#source: that one vine that probably came from something else

[unintentionaloracle]

MJF: I should've left you on that street corner where you were standing...

Adam Cole (Baybay): But ya didn't!

[alarrytale]

https://www.tumblr.com/alarrytale/762609138761072640/your-answer-was-so-interesting-it-made-me-think?source=share

yikes. you should try to get to know Louis.

he was always an oasis/green day guy, into indie brit rock.

not surprised a larrie is looking down at him, but still. the way you people think so little of him, as if his taste and choices dont matter unless they're exactly like harry.

I just need to understand. Do you think Louis have chosen this indie kind of music style to support his laddy image?

I very much think it’s actually the music style Louis likes and he’s finally confident and free enough to make the music he really wants? It’s not a secret to anyone that he wasn’t a big fan of the first 1D albums and he did what he could to get their music in another direction.

Yes the music style goes well with his laddy bro image, but I doubt that he chose the music style because of that.

Hello, anon (yes, these two asks are from the same anon)

First of all, "he was always a oasis/green day guy" is simply not true and i'm pretty tired of this attempt at rewriting history. If you go back and actually look at the evidence and what Louis has said himself you will see that.

Jay said that Louis was obsessed with S club 7 from a young age. On Louis' own bebo account he had a list of his favourite artists and bands. Do you remember which one's he mentioned? I do. He was in a band the Rogue which did covers of hit songs. Do you know which songs they performed? Songs like I got a feeling by the Black eyes peas. Louis is also into musicals, he played Danny in Grease and has mentioned that his favourite movie is Grease and his favourite song from Grease is Hopelessly devoted to you. He's got a tattoo of a Nickleback song, he and H went to the same the Script concert. His guilty pleasure music is Abba. He covered Look after you by the Fray and didn’t sing anything Oasis, britpop or indie at his xft auditions.

He has mentioned being a Green day fan, but there is zero evidence from 1991-2020 (ish) that Louis has ever been into britpop. I can buy that he was a casual fan (like 99% of the british population in the 90's.). But this "Oasis is my inspiration, i've always been a massive fan" thing? That's a narrative they've created recently, to match his change in image and sound. He's never had an Oasis poster in his bedroom, or worn an Oasis t-shirt. He's never been to an Oasis concert. He was 4 years old when Wonderwall came out. I honestly think he's more of a 00's music kid than 90's, because that's what all the evidence suggests.

I think that Louis and his team felt he needed to find himself as an artist and find his sound. Who is Louis Tomlinson the artist? The pop world is hard to compete in, and i think he gave up trying to make it in that genre (with that note he posted about redefining what success means to him). He also needs to appear straight and like a lad that's into women, and he's northern, so his label probably suggested that he'd lean into his northern, common lad, chavvy style roots and northern common lad music. They probably suggested he'd go back to the 90's glory days of northern, common lad music and replicate that. It's something he is able to do, it doesn’t feel foreign to him and like pretending, and i don't think he dislikes the music.

I think Louis music style is still very much pop, with elements of indie, punk rock and alt. Music. But it's still too pop to be classified as something else. Matt Vines can say that Louis is indie and has always been indie with his full chest. That won't ever make it true. You can’t rewrite history.

[cloudbattrolls]

Mouth Full of Gasoline

This is a side-epilogue to Choke.

Veraci Culale | Albion Countryside | Present Night

They’d been trying to start some fires for warmth and cooking when the scream came from the edge of the group.

Veraci ran as fast as he could, faster than any natural troll, but he still wasn’t quick enough to prevent them from getting an arm ripped off by - fuck, he couldn’t tell, a wolf? Some sort of buggered up hybrid? - before it got beaten back, snarling, by his vines and the villagers’ weapons.

It ran off, but he ordered them not to pursue it. He didn’t want more of them out of his sight, too far away to help if something happened.

People had already been picked off that way by mannequins, of all fucking things. Completely daft.

He was so tired. 

They all were. 

Fucking exhausted, could barely tell where they were going, knowing damn well they’d probably lose a dozen more people before they found somewhere safe.

If such a place would even take them in. There was one oliveblood in the whole group, and they were the highest caste troll there was. Everyone else was yellow or below. 

Right now he tried to focus on helping the poor mauled brownblood. They were young - shit, they could barely be seven, though almost everyone was small and skinny for their ages. He murmured to them gently as they whimpered and he cleaned them off, then did his best to create the most healing salves he knew out of his plants.

The salves were half-shite and he knew it. He wasn’t very good at using magic for that yet.

None of them were docterrorists; the best they had were the farmhands who knew first aid and some treatments, but a good portion of those were for beasts, not trolls.

Fuck Auresh and his stranglehold on education. They were going to die out here because no one knew bugger-all, and because no one had been allowed out except for him.

He finished with the brownblood - Merryl, he learned their name was, and gave them a pat on their good shoulder, telling them to let him know if they needed more bandages or the like. 

Those, at least, he could make fairly easily with his powers.

He gave a grateful nod to the two older trolls tending to them - he didn’t know the maroon woman, but the other rust, Jonnin, was very calm and level-headed. Merryl should be in good hands.

He tried to ignore the awed and fearful looks of the other villagers as he went to help some of the fire-starters.

He couldn’t exactly afford to hide his differences anymore. 

Was there a word for what he was? He didn’t have a bull’s notion, to tell the truth. He mostly didn’t care, because who gave a rat’s arse when there was far more pressing stuff to worry about.

But what Cris had said kept gnawing at him, much as he tried to swat their words out of his head.

He still felt like a troll. 

Mostly.

He heard the crack of a gun, and -

“Ow, FUCK!” He swore as a bullet grazed his shoulder, looking around wildly for the source, eyes lighting up green defensively as his ears pinned back.

Couldn’t be a Silverpool troll; Auresh had taken away guns sweeps before most of them had been hatched.

Another bullet landed directly in his chest and he screeched and warbled in pain, just like his lusus had before the poor old bird had died a sweep ago.

“STOP SHOOTING ME!” He bellowed. “Fucking hell! You’re going to hit someone else and then I’ll really kill you!”

For while he was hardly having a good time, he knew this wouldn’t take him down. 

His body was already pushing the bullets out, and the wounds leaked a mix of red blood and pale amber tree sap. 

Mercifully, the shooter stopped.

A voice with no clear source seemed to come out of thin air. One with an accent he’d only heard in trolls from far away; the speaker definitely wasn’t from Albion.

“Well, damn, beastie, seems you got reason left in you after all.”

They seemed amused, as if this was all so bloody hilarious to them.

“Fucking - of course I do!” He snarled, irritated and impatient and still hurting. “Now why the fuck did you shoot me? Is this your territory or something?”

“Y’ain’t no troll, that’s why. I seen ya in the daylight, creature, soaking up its rays and not gettin’ burned. I seen ya turn yourself to wood and plants and I seen how you don’t breathe. Now, I haven’t caught ya nibblin’ at your crowd here, so maybe y’ain’t a troll eater, but I still don’t trust ya.”

Veraci seethed, the vines from the buds on his horns writhing around his head.

“‘Course I’m not a fucking troll eater, you cow! This is my village! Our hives just got destroyed! We do not need any more fucking problems, thanks! So piss right off and I’ll forget this happened, how’s that sound?”

What he really wanted to do was find and kill them for being such a pain in his arse, but he couldn’t afford personal vendettas right now. Not with so many people to protect, no matter how shite of a job he might actually be doing at it.

He still had to try.

“Mmm…nah. I got more questions for ya.”

“Bully for you, I don’t feel like answering.” He retorted nastily. “Next time try quizzing me before sinking lead into my chest, you fuckin’ dolt.”

The voice chuckled, and for some odd reason, its sound varied, dipping up and down like -

A radio channel, Veraci realized. They were projecting their voice like they were on a radio show.

But he couldn’t see or hear hide nor hair of any tech. Not that he was an expert - thanks Auresh - but it still seemed odd.

“Sorry, lemme make m’self clear: answer me or I shoot ya again.”

“Fuck ooofff.” He groaned. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Ya do now, beastie.”

“My name’s Veraci, you rat bastard.”

“So why’d yer village get destroyed, huh?”

“Forest spirits.” He said bluntly. He did not have the patience or energy to lie at the moment. “If you don’t believe me, go to hell.”

“Nah, sounds likely enough.” The voice said thoughtfully. “So’s that what ya are? A spirit in a troll body?”

Veraci hesitated. “I mean. I was hatched a regular troll. I still feel like myself, not like I’ve been possessed or anything. But it’s none of your business.” He said roughly. 

“And don’t you dare fucking imply I destroyed my village. I tried to keep it alive, I - ”

“It’s true.” A Silverpool troll piped up timidly. “He brought us food and supplies when our lord ignored us. We’d have starved if it weren’t for him, had no new books or tools or anything.”

“He made bandages and ointments for us.” Said another troll.

“He told us stories.” A young wriggler interjected.

“Yes, he’s a little…weird…” another troll said hesitantly. “But we don’t have anyone else. We never have. So don’t kill him, or we’ll all die out here.”

“Hmmm.” Said the voice. “Either he’s got some damn strong mind control, or y’all really are loyal to this freak.”

“M…mind control?” Someone said, afraid.

“Yah. Wouldn’ be surprised if he could pull some shit like that with that pollen he can make. He killed some beast that got a sniff of it, made it all drowsy and peaceable before he speared it with his wooden limbs.”

Veraci wanted to strangle the speaker with his bare hands as fearful muttering swept through the Silverpool trolls. Just how long had they been watching him? And he hadn’t noticed them? Ugh. 

He really was exhausted.

“Oh for the love of - no, I’m not mind controlling the lot of you.” He said in exasperation, holding his hands up and out flat. 

“I’m not a psychic, you know what my psi is! Making sleeping powder is a hell of a lot simpler than actively controlling someone.”

“How would you know?” One troll demanded. “You’ve tried it, haven’t you?”

Veraci was so fucking done. 

He knew the speaker wanted him to explode, wanted him to lash out and make himself look bad. 

So he’d be buggered if he gave them what they wanted.

The maroon put a few fingers to his temples, steadying himself, then spoke again.

“Yeah, I tried it once - to see if I could control Auresh.” He said in a low, hard voice. “Didn’t work well, barely managed to cover it up before he noticed. Does anybody wanna give me shite for that, or can we move on?”

A silence stretched among the Silverpool trolls.

Veraci sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Look. I’m not asking you to think I have moonshine coming out my arse. I’m asking you to trust that I want to get you to safety. Can you all do that for me?”

Muttering swept through the crowd as they discussed it with one another.

The radio-like voice chuckled.

His fists clenched.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He said to the voice quietly. “Is killing me really that fucking important to you? Why?”

“S’what I do, Veraci. I kill monsters. How do I know ya can’t infect other trolls t’be like you? How do I know ya won’t get more powerful and turn into a bigger problem? Ya got magic, I can tell. An’ your psi is worryin’ enough.”

“Fuck you, you’d kill me just for being a mage or a psiionic?” He spat. “You’re insane. And for your information, no, I can’t do that, not that I’ve ever tried, because unlike you I’m not an asshole. You think this was what I wanted for myself or anyone else? You think this was what I hoped for?!”

He spread his arms again, burning with frustration.

“I was under a blueblood lord who didn’t care if any of us lived or died, you prick! I got the power to help myself and the others, so fucking sue me if I use it! Don’t you judge from your high hoofbeast until you get down here in the dirt and see what it’s like! We were chattel! I was the only one who could pass the forest safely! Anyone else who tried got killed!”

A long pause stretched through the entire group of trolls, and everyone went so quiet in the wake of Veraci’s yelling that they could hear the bugs and animals rustling in the brush.

The mage bared his teeth, sharper than most maroons’, eyes glowing so strongly green they radiated trails of misty light into the night.

“A’ight.” The voice finally said. “I believe ya.”

“Oh thanks.” He said sarcastically, slowly clapping his hands. “Thanks, I really needed that. I wanted your approval so bloody bad, you don’t even know.”

“I’m comin’ out now, an’ no one better try anythin’ or I’ll shoot.”

“No promises.” He growled, keeping a sharp eye out for the speaker as they stepped into the moonlight.

Who was…a brownblood. A perfectly ordinary brownblood, long-haired and a bit chubby, probably a girl? Hard to tell, though.

But that gun they were holding…it made him shiver. He wasn’t sure how well his bloodpusher worked any more, or if it still existed, but if he had one, he knew it was running cold.

“So what’s the occasion?” He said in a hard voice. “What are you going to do now? Better not be anything stupid.”

Truthfully, he still hurt like hell from the wounds even though they’d sealed themselves, and he’d be at a major disadvantage in a fight, but the shooter didn’t need to know that.

“Nah.” They said easily. “M’here to help.”

Veraci stared at them and then cracked the fuck up.

“Brilliant! Love to hear it. Uhhh, you can help by pissing off.” He said, overly solemn. “Thanks so much, good-fucking-bye.”

They raised their eyebrows.

“Y’need help, Veraci. Your trolls look bad. I got some supplies I can share, an’ I know a place that might take some of ya in, the younger folk at least.”

God, he wanted to throttle them with vines and call it a night. He wanted to spear them with thorns and leave their body for the crows.

“Fine.” He said, tone harsh. “Share what you’ve got with the youngest and weakest first. Everyone else, do not fucking interfere, this is not turning into a free-for-all. I know you’re all hungry and tired, but I am on my last drop of patience, so don’t test me.”

He realized, belatedly, that he felt something strange on his face and his hands. 

He looked down.

Thorns, small ones, pushing through the skin. 

He hadn’t meant for that to happen.

Fuck. Could the shooter be right? Would he transform further without even wanting to?

He silently watched them hand supplies out, arms crossed as his thoughts ran a million miles an hour. Luckily, no one seemed to be causing any problems.

He hardly realized when they came up to him and cleared their throat. He saw them looking at his thorns. He turned away, self-conscious.

“Hey. Would ya get cured, if ya could? Of what’s happenin’ to ya?”

“Dunno.” He muttered. “I definitely don’t want to go full plant, that’s not on the agenda. But if it meant losing all my magic and even my psi…fuck. I don’t know. That might be a death sentence itself.”

A maroon with no powers was basically as good as dead, after all.

“Hmmm.” Said the brownblood, scratching their chin with their free hand. “Name’s Sochet. I might be able to help ya. Not me personally, I ain’t no mage, but could still be possible. What say I travel with ya for a bit, help y’all out til we get everyone sorted, then we can tend to you?”

He squinted.

“I do not fucking trust that you suddenly want to help me, Sochet.”

They chuckled.

“Hones’ly, I don’t really wanna, but I can tell poppin’ ya would prob’ly piss off a lot o’ these folks an’ they might come for me. An’ I do wanna help them. S’why I became a hunter; protectin’ us what the higher folk don’t give two shits about.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. I don’t have any other options, so welcome to what remains of Silverpool, I guess.” 

They grinned. 

“Thanks, lovin’ the hospitality.”

He sighed deeply.

This was going to be a long night.

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Sunflower

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When Y/N joins the team, Bucky isn’t fond of her but as time goes on, she begin to form bond with the team and with him.

Warning: Swearing, torture, violence, death

Words: 20,971

A/N: All translations were made using Google, so sorry if they are wrong! This is also my first Marvel fic, and my first Bucky fic, so all feedback is welcome!

Master List   Tag List

 May

You’re nervous. Your palms sweat, even with the air conditioner pumping through the compound, and your heartbeat is elevated. You know that your presence is allowed but you don’t know whether they will accept you. After all, you were part of one of the most atrocious organisations that had ever existed.

Hydra was wicked, cruel, sadistic, merciless and they were your past.

 When approached and asked to be part of a drug trial, you had accepted. You were young, barely eighteen, and living on the streets of Krasnoyarsk. You had struggled to care for yourself, the orphanage having kicked you out a few months previous, and you had jumped at the chance of having a place to stay and food in your belly.

 It wasn’t until you were taken in, subjected rigorous testing, that you found out where you are. The company name they had originally given you was fabricated, and your insides turned to ice as you saw the Hydra symbol.

 You were, in a sense, tricked.

 You were trapped there, no way out and you knew you wouldn’t leave alive. You had, in a way, signed your own death warrant. You had been foolish, your mind to focused on food and a bed to properly ask about the company who wanted you. Saying that, they probably would have killed you if you had asked to many questions anyway.

 For three years, you were put through your paces. They taught you languages; English, German, Spanish, French, Romanian, Italian and others. You had to learn quick, and you were given daily tests. If you got a question wrong, a fist hit your stomach. If you completed the test with more than two wrong answers, you were sent to the Palach [Punisher]. His methods of…correcting…you varied. Beatings, cuttings, breakings, whippings…

 They also taught you how to fight. They didn’t go easy on you, in fact, it was the exact opposite. The trainer used his full force, you couldn’t tap out. You adapted, or you got hurt. He’d almost killed you once, just to show you how easy it was.

 It had taken you over two years, but you had developed your own style of fighting by studying his. While he was brutish, using his pure strength, you used your small structure. Your moves could be likened to those of a snake, you would slip around him, strike in the most unexpected of places and take him down that way. You fought like it was a dance, gracefully and beautifully.

 You also learned how to use a variety of weapons. You could shoot a range of guns now, could strip and clean them too. You were confident with knives, easily able to add them to a fight and harm your opponent. They’d even taught you how to use a bow and arrow, and a crossbow, though they weren’t a first choice of Hydra.

 In your three years, you learned more than you thought you were would. Did you want to learn all of this? No, of course not. You had no choice. With was either adept and learn or be killed. You didn’t want to die.

 Your final ‘test’, as they called it, was to take another person’s life. A young man, barely of age, with dark brown hair and green eyes. His eyes were rimmed red, tears trailing over his high cheekbones and dripping over the cloth stuffed in his mouth and off his chiselled jaw. You didn’t know his name, but his face would never leave you.

 You had hesitated a moment. You weren’t a killer, not by choice at least. You didn’t want to kill the young man, murder was not in your blood. However, you knew that it had been leading up to this moment. Why else would they be keeping you, training you?

 It was kill or be killed. So, you shot him.

 From there, the training was over. Then, the ‘drug trial’ began. For the first time in five years, you were given meals three times a day, for a week straight. They were building up your strength for what was to come. What were they going to do, that you would need to be so prepared for?

 You were reading a Mandarin language-learning book when they came in. You could converse in the language well enough, but it wasn’t your best. And you had to give your best. Four soldiers and three people in lab coats. The soldiers carried guns and had knives strapped to them, you knew they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you if you tried to fight and run. You had seen that happen to another ‘subject’.

 You had been taken to lab where they usually tested you. When you entered, the three scientists joined their other eight colleagues. Your normal tests had only been conducted by three scientists, one preparing the tests and equipment, one doing the actual testing, and the final one recording the results. Seeing so many scientists, you knew this was it, that this was ‘the big day’, so to speak.

 You were strapped down, thick leather tightened around your body to hold you to the metal table. Your left arm was outstretched, your inner elbow exposed.

 Everyday you had been kept at Hydra, you had been scared. But at that moment, on that cold metal table, your fear was heightened. You didn’t know why. They had taught you how to kill, how to lie, how to steal, hack, seduce even… but they left you with fear. They wanted you to fear them, it would ensure your loyalty.

 Electrodes were attached to your forehead, the metal discs roughly pressed against your temple. A heart rate monitor was clipped to your finger and a blood pressure cuff was put around your right arm.

 You could hear the machine showing your heartrate increased as a scientist moved towards your left arm. In his hand, he held a large syringe. A think, green liquid swirled in it. It was vile looking, it was something you would expect to see in a swamp. He took your arm in one hand, bracing himself before pushing the needle through the skin of your inner elbow.

 As soon as the green mixture had entered your body, you had been set alight. You’d cried, screamed, begged for them to make it stop. Since joining Hydra, you had went through pain but this was unlike anything you had ever felt. Your whole body was on fire, flames burning you up from the inside.

 It hadn’t taken long for your eyes to roll and for you to pass out in pain.

 You had woken up three days later. You didn’t know what they had injected you with but it didn’t taken long for you to discover the results of it. When you got angry after being tied down, the ground had shaken. The stone floor had cracked and began to crumble. When you were scared when the guards entered, vines had extended from the walls to enclose you. When your hand had sat on the wooden table, a flower sprouted, its thorns wickedly sharp.

 You had could create and control the earth and plant-life.

 It was a terrifying discovery. You had walked into Hydra as a weak orphan, yet now you were a trained killer. You had walked into that lab a human, and now… now you were something else. You couldn’t be called a mutant; you were born like this. You were created. You were an experiment. A test subject.

 For two more years, you were subjected to more testing and more training. Hydra pushed you to the limits of your ability, seeing what you were capable of and forcing you to improve. You gained more control over time, soon able to completely control the earth around you with little effort. You also had to ‘update’ your technique with your new abilities. You learned how to weave your gift into your fighting style, making you all the more dangerous.

 Though you were skilled, you knew that someone would still be able to take you down.

 You had heard about him. The Soldat. You had heard the scientists whisper his name, but it was the guards outside your room which provided the information.

 “Soldat escaped” the first guard murmured quietly.

“Do you think they’ll send her after him?” the second questioned, just as quiet. You knew he was referring to you.

“Probably” the first confirmed. “They’d send her to the chair first. Still, with his metal arm he would beat her. It will be a waste.”

 You didn’t know what the chair was, but you knew it was bad. Thankfully, you never got to meet it.

 Less then a year later, the base you were kept at was stormed by the Avengers. You had seized the moment. While the guards had rushed to fight them off, you had broken the door of your room. A thick, green vine had curled around the large handle and ripped it from its hinges.

 You had run from the metal room, which they had put you in after discovering your abilities, and you hadn’t looked back. You had lifted a hand in front of you, causing a stone wall to break and you had climbed through, running into the forest.

 You escaped and went on the run. You were sure that those who had kept you at the base had either been captured or killed by the Avengers. Being in prison, or in a grave, they wouldn’t be able to come after you.

 You hadn’t counted on the Avengers not coming after you, though. You hadn’t thought of it previously but of course Hydra had files on you. When they had seized control of the base, the Avengers gained access to those files. They found out about who you were, what you could do. You were dangerous.

 It had put on the run from both sides. Other sources of Hydra might still know of you and want you, but now, the Avengers wanted you too.

 While on the run, you had heard more about The Soldat. While they called him that often, his code name was The Winter Soldier. He was a man out of time, taken by Hydra, turned into a weapon and frozen. He was a victim of the organisation, just like you. They had turned him into a super-soldier and given him a metal arm, strong enough to crush people’s skulls. No doubt strong enough to destroy you. Even with your abilities, he was stronger and more experienced than you.

 You knew they were after him, just like how they were after you.

 Then, it happened. Khvatka. Der Schnappschuss. The Snap.

 One minute, you were fine. The next, your hand had tingled. As you looked down, it began to turn to dust. You had been shocked, but that soon turned to horror as your arm turned to dust and surely… so did the rest of you.

 It seemed like only a moment later, you were opening your eyes again. Everything around you looked different, there were buildings surrounding you which hadn’t been there before. You knew you were in the same place though, the earth beneath your feel felt the same.

 You hadn’t understood what happened at first but then you had stolen the newspaper and heard people talking. Then, you understood. Half of all life, sentient and non-sentient, had been erased from the universe. And you were part of that half. You had been erased.

 You didn’t think it would affect you much. You had nothing before The Snap, you had nothing after. You were wrong. In a few short months following The Snap, the Avengers caught up with you.

 The Scarlett Witch, Captain America, Iron Man and The Black Widow.

 “I’m not going back to some lab!” you had growled at them, before running.

 They had caught you. in fairness, you would have been able to escape, but since leaving Hydra, you had refused to inflict harm. Your actions towards the Avengers were all in defence, and they had noticed that you didn’t not make an offensive move on them. You could have hurt them, killed them even, but instead, you just blocked.

 You had been so focused in not hurting them, The Flacon had been able to sneak up behind you and with a sharp prick to your neck, knock you unconscious.

 You had been extremely lucky that you only fought defensively. After extensively looking over your file, noticing your singular kill in, arguably, self-defence, you had been invited to join the Avengers. You didn’t know how they had arranged it, after all, you had previous ties to Hydra. However, it was either join them or be held in a secure unit.

 It wasn’t a tough choice.

 That led you to this moment. Standing outside of the meeting room which held all of the team members. While you knew there was a core group, there were many other notable members which weren’t always included in the specific name.

 “You ready?” Steve Rogers, Captain America, asked.

You rolled your lips between your teeth for a moment in nervousness before you nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.

“Okay, lets do this” he pushes the door open, stepping into the room and holding the door for you to follow.

 Most of the team was on edge with you at first, watching you wearily. They knew who you were, where you had spent nearly six years of your life. You didn’t blame them for not trusting you straight away. Their trust was something you were going to have to earn. The only person to fully accept you straight away was the Scarlett Witch, Wanda Maximoff.

 She had previously been a test subject of Hydra which had given her gifts, including telepathy. You knew she had looked into your mind straight away and while it was invasive, you understood. By looking into you mind, she would know your thoughts, feelings and intentions. What she saw obviously convinced her you owed no ill will, which was true, and she readily welcomed you.

 The rest of the team politely nodded, said hello or gave you an awkward smile. Peter Parker, the youngest of the Avengers, seemed to do all three. Though he was obviously nervous of you, you had been with Hydra, he stilled tried to welcome you enthusiastically. It was sweet of him, you thought, offering the teenager a small smile.

 “Funny suit” you commented, head slightly tilted as your eyes looked over the spiderweb pattern.

He looks down at his suit before nodding at you. “Thanks. I’m Spider-Man.”

You hummed in amusement, he was a little too young to be considered a man, but it was cute.

 The rest of the team greeted you until you got to the final member.

 Standing close to the door, in a position allowing him to have complete view of the room and the entrance was someone you recognised description alone. He was tall, with long, dark hair which made his blue-grey eyes stand out. His mouth was set in a hard line as he watched you, arms folded across his chest. Though he had on a long-sleeved shirt and his hand was hidden by his right arm, you knew his left arm was metal.

 This was The Soldat, The Winter Soldier.

 You tried not to react. This was the man who could take you down, with absolute certainty. Hydra said he would be able to do it, you had to believe in that fact. Looking at him now, you could see why they came to that conclusion. He was much larger than you.

 “This is Bucky” Steve introduced.

“da [yes]” you can’t help but fall into Russian. There was something about him that made your mind fall back to Hydra, where they had only allowed you to converse in Russian. It was probably because that was where you knew him from. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared minutely. His head titled up and he looked down his nose at you. Tensing, you quickly spoke again. “Sorry.”

“Dobro pozhalovat’ v komandu [Welcome to the team]” his voice was gruff and low. As soon as the words were out, we passed you, careful not to touch you, and left the room.

 Steve apologised for his friend, watching him go without a single glance back. You waved off his apology, assuring him that Bucky wasn’t rude and that you had probably unintentionally made him uncomfortable by speaking Russian.

 Later in the evening, you ate dinner with the rest of the Avengers, but you didn’t see Bucky again.

  July

 You collapsed onto the couch, holding the cold-water bottle against your neck. You had peeled off your suit, which was similar to Natasha’s but was dark green in colour and taken a shower. Though the water had been cool, your body was still hot.

 “Move” Wanda ordered.

 You sat up slightly, allowing her to sit down before you rested you head in her lap. She moaned as she sunk into the cushions of the couch, and you knew her body ached just as yours did. She adjusted herself again, and then her hand moved to play with your hair.

 Since joining the Avengers two months ago, your relationships with the members had improved. You were closest to Wanda, who had quickly become a close friend and confidant. In your first few days at the compound, you had been quiet and just observed the team, not taking part in their talks and jokes. Wanda, however, made sure to speak quietly to you at every meal. She slowly brought you out of your shell and encouraged you to develop your relationships with the other members.

 Your relationships with the rest of the team was varied.

 As Wanda trusted you, Vision seemed to be open to you. He wasn’t your biggest fan, believe that with your abilities, you posed a strong threat. However, he was respectful. He would often join you and Wanda for film nights and would keep you both supplied with popcorn. He spoke to you politely, but never singled you out for conversation. It strangely hurt your feelings, considering how close you were to Wanda, but you accepted his attitude towards you.

 Upon seeing you use your gift, Peter Parker wanted to spend time with you whenever you were both at the compound. He was fascinated by the power of your abilities and the level of control you had. He asked multiple questions, eager to understand how you were able to do what you could. While it had made you uncomfortable at first, you soon began to appreciate his interest. He didn’t want to know these things because he wanted to use you, or because he was scared but because he admired you.

 And while you spoke about your abilities often, you also spoke about him. He was struggling with his language class and, being fluent in most languages, you had offered to help. He had also shyly asked you to forge Aunt May’s signature on his language test when he got a bad grade. You had done it, but you had told him he needed to speak to May about it.

 Aunt May was accepting of your relationship towards Peter. At first, she had been weary, which you couldn’t blame her for, but then her attitude changed in the few weeks between visits. You think it was Peter’s doing, that he had gone home and spoken about you. Perhaps told her that you helped with his schoolwork, that every weekend you’d give him a bunch of flowers for his girlfriend, MJ. Or maybe about the time you scolded him for his recklessness on a mission and sent him to his room at the compound without dessert.

 While Aunt May was his mother figure, you had seemed to have taken on the role of overprotective older sister. A role which May seemed happy for you to have. She had spoken to you just last week about how grateful she was that you were helping Peter and keeping an eye on him while on missions.

 Tony Stark had taken somewhat of a liking towards you. He had provided you with your new suit and various weapons, all of which you were grateful for. Just like with the rest of the team, he did tend to tease you. He often called you Ivy after the famous ‘Poison Ivy’ from Batman. It was so common to hear that nickname, it was sometimes used instead of your codename.

 You didn’t have a codename when you were with Hydra, they just called you ‘The Subject’, but joining the Avengers had afforded you one. Hemlock. It was a stupid codename and you had immediately hated whoever had assigned it to you. You understood the choosing of it, it was a deadly plant, but still… it was stupid.

 Though Tony’s nickname was unoriginal, and it occasionally annoyed you, you much preferred it. Hemlock just seemed presumptuous. It was a deadly planet and having that as your codename, would make you appear to be deadly. You had the potential to be, yes, but you had only ever harm one person and that was out of a need for survival.

 Natasha Romanoff usually observed you quietly, as if waiting for you to flip and attack. However, she didn’t go out of her way to make you unwelcome. She included you in conversation and would normally speak in Russian, which was also her native language, but you think that was to annoy Tony. He hated to be excluded.

 She was sassy, her jokes hidden within her words. Though you hadn’t grown close with her yet, you could see yourself favouring her in the future. There was an appeal about her, she was mysterious, and it kept people interested, wanting to know more. You were no exception.

 You had only seen Clint Barton once or twice, but he was always nice. He also adopted Tony’s nickname, calling you that more often that your own name. He didn’t seem to care for you though, not in a mean way, but in a way which he doesn’t view you as a threat. Which was refreshing.

 It was from Tony that you learned Clint lived on a farm with his family, who had previously lost to The Snap. It was nice to know that while being a ‘hero’ didn’t mean you couldn’t have a normal, quiet life.

 James Rhodes was another member of the Avengers that you didn’t have much contact with. Though you saw him around the compound, it was only ever in passing. He was often with not alone, with Tony or a military colleague. When he was alone, he carried files in his hands which he read through, ignoring the environment around him.

 Sam Wilson welcomed you easily. While he kept you at arm’s length for the first few weeks, that soon gave way to flirtatious teasing. You knew he meant nothing by it, and you enjoyed the comments, no one had ever said such things to you. Though there was no attraction there, between either of you, you both enjoyed the flirtatious attention you afforded the other.

 He had taken to calling you Petal, or the shortened Pet, a cute nickname because you were as delicate as a flower and also because of your ability. You acted annoyed when he called you it but secretly, you adored it. It was cute, sweet, and it felt like it fit.

 Sam was also the one who you trained with often, though you tried to put him off it. You were trained to kill by Hydra, your skills on par with Natasha and Bucky – though he was much stronger than you. You could make Sam down in minutes, which a few members of the team enjoyed seeing, but you could beat him in seconds on the rare occasion you used your ability.

 Still, he insisted. “You need your practice, Pet, I’m not always going to be there to save you.”

 You beat him every time.

 Steve Rogers was the unofficial leader of the team. Unofficial, because he didn’t want anyone to think he was above them. However, he was the one who decided on and led missions. He was the one who kept the team in line, he was the one who kept an eye out for everyone.

 Since introducing you to the team, you hadn’t seen much of him; for various reasons. He worked often, going on missions more and when he wasn’t, he was busy preparing for the next mission. When he wasn’t doing that, he was working out with Bucky or just spending time with his best-friend.

 And therein was the reason you hardly saw the Captain.

 Bucky Barnes did not appear to be a fan of yours. Your presence seemed to make the man uncomfortable. When you entered the room, he would sit up straighter, would tense and watch you as you moved about. When you trained in the gym, his eyes would focus on you and you knew he was working out your style, to know how best to take you down. He only spoke to you when necessary and he was always short and to the point.

 He wasn’t outright rude, but his dislike of you was clear. The only time he had outright asked about something pertaining to you, it was when he was confused over Tony’s nickname for you. Tony had proceeded to introduce him to the Batman comics and with Poison Ivy’s character, you were sure you were put in a darker light.

 In his avoidance of you, Steve was also avoiding you by association.

 You didn’t see much of the other Avengers. Thor was often in Asgard but had graced the compound with his presence occasionally. He was always polite but often kept a close eye on you, especially when his brother, Loki, took a shine to you.

 Loki thought you were interesting for a mortal. He had never met a mortal who could control nature like you could, he called you ‘The Life Giver’ which you had strongly disagreed with. However, you found Loki fun to socialise with, he was interesting and mischievous, often liking to cause trouble which you couldn’t help but find amusing. He also had a love of knives which you shared an interest in and you had compared various weapons, discussing the pros and cons of each.

 Honestly, none of the Avengers approved of your blossoming friendship with the God of Mischief. Still, they let you be, though they kept close watch.

 You had only met Doctor Strange once but you found him fascinating. A sorcerer of great power, you were amazed by his abilities. Peter had told you how he had worked with Doctor Strange during the battle against Thanos, and that the magician could create portals. Thor had taken that moment to delight in telling you that Doctor Strange had made Loki fall through a portal for thirty minutes.

 Apart from that first meeting, you also hadn’t met any of the other members of the team again. King T’Challa and his sister, Princess Shuri had left almost immediately for their home. Scott Lang didn’t often visit the compound but whenever he did, you didn’t happen across him.

 “I can’t wait for winter” you huffed, dragging the bottle over your sweltering skin.

“Too hot for you, Pet?” Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch opposite you.

“Mm” you agreed. “I’m Russian, we like the cold. My sozdany dlya etogo [We’re made for it].”

“Kak pokazyvayet tvoye serdtse [As your heart shows]” Natasha jested, earning a chuckle from you.

 While the words at face value were funny, it was hiding a meaning behind them which you both chuckled at. Natasha was one of the best spies in the world, tied with Bucky. She was observant and smart, and it hadn’t taken her long to put two-and-two together.

 She knew you found The Winter Solider attractive. You couldn’t help it. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair and beautiful eyes. He was a stunning specimen of a man. He was clearly intelligent and undoubtedly observant, with a key attention to detail.

 Working with him on missions and seeing him the limited times around the compound had drawn your attention. There was something about him. He was all man. Your body hummed when he was near, and you were acutely aware of his presence.

 You didn’t bother to deny your attraction when Natasha had confronted you. There was no point. There was no lying to Natasha Romanoff. She didn’t judge you from you crush. She did, however, make veiled comments.

 “What does that mean?” Tony asked, looking between the two of you. “You know its very rude to speak in a language that others don’t speak.”

“Bucky can speak it, he counts as others” you shrugged, smirking at Tony. “Eto ne nasha vina, chto vash ‘geniy’ zakhodit tak daleko [It’s not our fault your ‘genius’ only goes so far].”

This earned a laugh from Natasha and Bucky, who was quietly leaning against a wall, Steve sitting in front of him. Tony’s eyes flickered between the three of you, “What? What did she say?”

“On vyuchit odin den’ [He’ll learn one day]” Natasha smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at the billionaire.

“What? Bucky,” he turned to the quiet assassin, arm extended and pointing at you and Natasha. “What are they saying? Are they talking about me? What did they say?”

 Bucky’s eyes went from Tony to you. His blue-grey eyes taking in your relaxed pose, leaning against Wanda as you held the cooling bottle against the base of your neck. You fought to keep your heartrate calm, his gaze sending tingles down your spine.

 “YA somnevayus’, chto on budet [I doubt he will]” he rumbled before throwing the tiniest smirk at Tony and turning to leave the room.

 It took a moment for you and Natasha to process his words but then you’re both laughing as Tony continues to question what you all were saying.

  August

 Your hands sat palm down, fingers spread as the glass tickled between them. Your hands ran against the grass and you sighed, smiling to yourself. You could feel the hum of the earth beneath your palms, the steady thrum of life which only you could feel.

 It was an intoxicating feeling. Since leaving Hydra, you had taken great pleasure with just being part of the life around you. With your abilities over nature, you could feel the power of the earth and you fed off it.

 In Hydra, they closely monitored your exposure to nature, not wanting to give you an opportunity to fight back and escape. You had never been able to explore the deep connection you had with the earth but since escape, it was something you indulged yourself in at every opportunity.

 The compound is surrounded by open fields which back off onto tidy forests. After obtaining permission from Tony, you had happily taken ownership over a small section of the property and turned it into your own, personal, sanctuary.

 You had started at the very beginning and created a small pond. It hadn’t been very hard to create the hole and line it with stone. You did take your time, lining the stones in a perfect formation with small ones framing the smaller ones. Tony had called in a water truck to fill it for you, which took an hour or two, but you hand enjoyed watching the pond fill.

 When it was full, dressed in a new bikini, you had climbed into the pond. The water wasn’t deep, going to just above your waist. Your fingers trailed over the surface of the water, leaving flowers floating. Beautiful lily pads with bright pink lotuses, purple water lilies and water hyacinth. Yellow water poppies floated behind you, lazily moving across the pond. You walked to the edge pond, your finger running over the sides and leaving broadleaf arrowhead behind.

 Flowers and weeds would soon bloom around the pond, and you hoped it would attract wildlife. It would be lovely to see frogs, dragonflies, and butterflies. You hoped that when your little spot of paradise was done, it would be teaming with life.

 You crouched on the grass on north-west side of the pond and touched your hand to the earth. You breathed out slowly, closing your eyes as you envisioned what you wanted. The ground beneath you hummed as your power soaked into the grass below you, spreading outwards. You could feel the ground welcome you and allow you to bend it to your will.

 You focus on the soil, creating the image in your mind of what you wanted. Long, strong roots buried deep in the ground, anchoring the large tree. From the ground, a large base would emerge with dark brown bark. It would stand tall, the thickness of the trunk showing strength and making it appear old. Branches would expend out, weighted down by long branchlets. You imagined them spanning wide, going so far as to dangle over the pond’s side.  

 You opened your eyes and stood up, smiling to yourself as you looked at the weeping willow in front of you. A hybrid of two different types of willow, it only had a life span of between forty to seventy-five years, but you knew you could make it live for a lot longer.

 The tree fit in perfectly with the pond, giving off an enchanted vibe. It looked like something out of a fairy-tale, as if magical creatures would be hiding within the weeping willows branchlets. You created a stone bench at the base of the trunk and framed it with blooming flowers of varying colour, adding to the magical appearance.

 You had made sure the rest of your area was full of natures favourites. There was plenty of nectar-rich flowers for bees and hummingbirds, with bright and bold colours to attract them. Marigolds, pansies and petunias sprouted, ready for the hungry tummies of rabbits you hoped to see in the future. You didn’t know whether the neighbouring trees housed deer but on the off chance, you made sure to grow hostas, daylilies and roses on the edge of the tree line.

 Not wanting to make such a harsh change, you had extended some flowers into the other fields, letting them slowly grow to have more and more as they went towards your plot. It was a beautiful sight, anyone would agree.

 Slowly, as the weeks went by, life began to bloom within your paradise. It started off small, a few butterflies and a stray dragonfly. Tiny frogs, that would hop away and hide if you got too close. Then you found the small warren and when you hid to spy on it, your heart warmed as the tiny rabbit’s nose which peaked out. It was incredible, to say the least.

 Since creating this little slice of heaven, Steve had visited with his sketchbook in hand. The image the sanctuary provided was beautiful and something he was eager to capture. He had given you one of his sketches, one that was coloured in with watercolours which blended together. You had hung it on your bedroom wall that day.

 Wanda had visited, smiling softly at the rose canina which scattered around the area. They were the flowers her brother used to pick for her, which were native to her homeland of Sokovia and the neighbouring country of Slovakia. Since then, you had made a small bush of the flowers outside her window and made sure it was always in bloom. She had said nothing but the smile she had was thanks enough.

 The most common guest to your sanctuary was the most surprising. Bucky. He would come to quietly sit on the stone bench, lost in his thoughts as he watched the breeze blow the branchlets of the weeping willow. He found peace in that spot, and he enjoyed the freeness of the area rather than the confines of the compound.

 One time, you had brushed through the branchlets of the tree to see him sitting motionless, watching a rabbit eat the marigolds on the floor beside him. You had frozen, worried about startling the little animal, but it ignored you, carrying on with its early afternoon snack.

 “You’re here almost as often as I am” you observed, carefully walking to the edge of the pond.

“Its nice” he grunted, looking around appreciatively. “The compound can be… crowded.”

“Yes” you agree. You look over your shoulder to see him tracing a rose with his finger, avoiding the prickly thorns. “What flowers do you like, Bucky?”

 Since that evening in July, Bucky had been more open towards you. Though he still kept his distance, he didn’t out-right avoid you. He no longer tensed when you entered the room, but his eyes remained on you, keeping a close watch. His observations of your fighting style had decreased and now he actually continued his work out, only throwing occasional glances at you.

 It was progress.

 “Sunflowers” he finally replied, having been sorting through his thoughts for the last few minutes.

 The next time he visited the sanctuary, sunflowers lined the entrance to the willow’s spot.

 Now, you sit with your palms on the grass with your fingers spread. You allowed yourself to just breathe in the fresh air and enough the hum of life beneath your palms. It was a wonderful feeling, making your heart fill with content as you allowed yourself to just feel.

 So entuned with the earth beneath you, you felt the approach of another instantly. You knew their footsteps would be considered light, soundless, but through the ground it felt heavy. There are five sets of footsteps approaching from in front of you, a direction that no one should be coming from. There about a mile out, far enough that your other senses wouldn’t have picked them up.

 There’s another set of footsteps behind you. These ones feel light even through the ground and you quickly recognise them. You don’t turn your head to him when he pushes through the branchlets and instead keep your eyes in front of you.

 “Na severe otsyuda yest’ proryv [There’s a perimeter breach, north of here]” his voice is low, and you know his eyes are scanning the area. He always speaks to you in Russian during missions when he doesn’t want locals or enemies to know what he’s saying. “Natal’ya i Toni idut szadi. Oni idut syuda [Natalia and Tony are coming in from behind them. They’re coming this way].”

“Pyat’ iz nikh. Meneye chem v odony mile [Five of them. Less than one mile out]” you inform him.

 You ignored Bucky as he quietly passed on your information to Natasha and Tony, and, instead, focused of the intruders approaching. They walked in formation, and you could feel the heaviness of the weight they carried. They weren’t hikers who had gotten lost, these were people looking for the compound and with the sneaking up, you could assume their intentions weren’t good.

 You take in a deep breath before pushing your ability outwards. In your minds eyes, plants begin to grow on the path before the intruders. Stinging nettles, hogweed, pain bush, and poison ivy. You line the forest floor which leads to your sanctuary with the plants. Though not plants that will kill, they are ones which will cause discomfort and, hopefully, impact the intruders.

 You ensure to line the way with overgrown roots, little pockets underneath where a person could catch their foot. It wouldn’t be enough to stop them, but it will slow them down.

 “YA mogu sdelat’ otverstiye, chtoby derzhat’ ikh. Oni dolzhny byt’ blizhe, khotya [I can make a hole to hold them. They need to be closer though],” you tell him, standing up and looking at him. “Mne nuzhno umet’ pravil’no yego razmer [I need to be able to size it correctly].”

 Bucky nods and reiterates to Natasha and Tony, telling them to follow the group but keep a distance. He pulls out a knife from his leg holster, flipping it in his hand and preparing. He trusted that you would be able to effectively take down the intruders, but he still liked to be prepared for anything. That was the solider, the assassin, in him.

 Soon enough, the intruders were close. You couldn’t see them through the trees but you could feel them through the earth. You knew Bucky could see them, he was a super solider with heightened senses.

 You quickly took note of where each member of the group was. One leading, dead centre. Two sets flank to the left and two to the right, in a triangle formation. The weight in their feet makes it easy to calculate their heights, the tallest being just over six foot.

 Their weight shifts slightly, they’re preparing themselves. Without waiting to see what they are readying themselves for, you open a pit below them. It was quick, instantaneous. The once solid ground simply opened up and swallowed them, leaving them in a pit eight feet deep.

 By the time they’re on their feet, the hole is surrounded. You and Bucky stand on one side, Natasha and Tony on the other. Bucky and Natasha have guns out, each pointed at the group while Tony brandishes his Iron Man blasters.

 Standing over them, you quickly allow vines to grow out of the sides of the hole. They grasp onto the intruders, wrapping around them and preventing them moving. They’ve unable to pick up their military-issued guns from the floor nor get the handguns or knives from their holsters.

 “I didn’t realise we were having a party” Tony sasses, his helmet retreating.

 You used the vines to lift each intruder out one at a time. Bucky and Natasha quickly relieved them of any weapons on their person and Natasha cuffed them with zip-ties that were in a compartment on her suit. If their grunts were anything to go by, she made sure the zip-ties were tight.

 When they were all above ground and cuffed, you quickly filled in the hole. You didn’t want any stray animals falling in it and getting hurt. With their weapons in a pile, you form a basket of branches around them to carry them.

 Tony leads the way through the sanctuary, mental hand on the shoulder of the leader of the group. Bucky follows behind with two more of the group, each of his hands griping one of their arms. Natasha escorts the final two and you are left to carry the numerous weapons.

 “Tony, watch the sunflowers!” you scold as he roughly shoulders past one.

“You can just make another one” he scoffs, pushing the leader forward when he tried to stall.

“No, Tony, they’re special!” you tell him, stopping beside the sunflower to make sure it was okay and undamaged. “This is our safe space; you can’t just walk around like a brute.”

“I’m not walking around like a brute” he defends, looking at you over his shoulder. “And it’s just a flower, Y/N.”

“’Just a flower’?!” your voice rises with outrage. “I’ll have you know-”

“Ostav’ eto, Y/N, on ne ponimayet [Leave it, Y/N, he doesn’t understand]” Bucky says.

 Though you were no longer ‘on a mission’, so to speak, he liked to speak in Russian to annoy Tony. After the instance last month and a few repeated scenarios, Tony had attempted to learn Russian but after a week, he soon gave up. Bucky, Natasha and you often spoke in the language to annoy the billionaire, with the former two taking great pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

 “No Bucky- [But Bucky-]” you protested, throwing a glare at the billionaire.

“YA znayu [I know]” he nods. “On yego povredil? [Did he damage it?]”

“Net [No]” you confirmed.

Bucky let out a grunt and nodded, throwing a look of displeasure at Tony.

 Though you hadn’t outright discussed it, Bucky knew that the sunflowers were specifically grown for him. They were a way of showing that Bucky was welcomed in the sanctuary, that it was a place that he could escape to, should he need to.

 It was something he was grateful for. While he wasn’t a man who was particularly enthused by nature, he could appreciate its calming and healing abilities. The willow tree bench often brought him comfort in times of stress, ever peaceful with disruptions only coming from the wind or small passing animals.

 Bucky had been truthful when he told you his favourite flower was a sunflower. He didn’t, however, tell you why. You didn’t pry, it wasn’t any of your business and you suspected it had something to do with life before the war. You knew he was truthful though, because you sometimes caught him gently stroking the petals of one of the flowers, a far-off look on his face.

 Once you had returned to the compound, you separated from the group. You took the weapons to Tony’s lab, knowing that he would want to examine them before they were put in the lock-up. You had only visited Tony’s lab twice. The first time was when he wanted to run tests on your abilities, which you had reluctantly agreed to. The second time was two weeks ago when you dropped off a vial which you had been sent on a solo mission to gain.

 Since Hydra, you weren’t a fan of labs or doctors’ offices. They made you extremely nervous and set you on edge. It made you feel like you were still in Hydra, that you were going to be strapped down and another serum would be pushed through your veins.

 It was a terrifying thought. You never wanted to return to that lab, to be tied down again. While you were grateful for your abilities, if you could go back, you would change so much. You would have stayed on the streets of Krasnoyarsk, would have taken your chances at survival there. Hydra had changed you, and you still weren’t sure whether there were truly any ways it had changed you for the better.

 Doctor Cho said it was completely normal, it was a form of PTSD, and as such, if you needed medical attention, she came to your room. While you still weren’t completely comfortable having a doctor around you, being in your own space made you more comfortable and allowed you to remain calm as you received medical treatment.

 With your drop off complete, you returned to the team’s living quarters.

 The kitchen was a beautiful mix of light grey and white, with marble countertops. Everything matched, from the white appliances to the grey cupboards. On the island was a vase of flowers, that you always kept in bloom, which offered the space the only pop of colour. The vibrant pinks, blues and yellows seemed to somehow brings the space together.

 The arched doorway led into the living room. Though Tony had paid for it all, you knew that Sam and Natasha were the ones who chose the furniture. The plush ‘L’ shape couch was a dark grey, with colourful pillows and a two thick throw blankets over the back. Two soft armchairs sat on the right, with the TV at the end completing the rectangle of furniture.

 There was once a fluffy rug under the coffee table, which sat in the middle of the put-together shape. However, Bucky wasn’t in the habit of removing his boots and had trailed dirt all over it. Wanda had gotten it clean, but it was a repeated offence until it was finally just thrown out.

 As you passed through the kitchen, you waved your hand over the vase, brightening the flowers. While they were still beautiful, it looked like they had been knocked slightly and bent out of shape. It wasn’t a surprise, while they respected your ability, the Avengers didn’t tend to take care towards your plants.

 Except Bucky.

 He was always mindful of your plants. While he often touched the plants in the sanctuary, never once had he left a single petal out of place. When the team was having ‘family’ meals, he would quickly pull the vase of flowers from the table before Sam could accidently knock them off while roughhousing with one of the other men. You’d heard him telling Natasha and Peter to be careful when they had nearly toppled the flowers over while throwing snacks to each other.

 It was only a small thing for him to do, but it still meant a lot to you. Bucky knew, perhaps better than anyone, what you could do with your abilities but still, he didn’t want to cause more damage than absolutely necessary to your plants.

 And while you weren’t close with the man, it would be a lie to say you didn’t have a soft spot for him. The way he respected your creations warmed your heart. He could barely be labelled as a friend. Still, it reaffirmed the crush that you had on him.

 You curled yourself into the corner of the couch, folding your legs under yourself. You grabbed the TV remote, knowing you had at least a few hours to waste until you would find out why the intruders were at the compound. You settled on Kitchen Nightmares, snuggling yourself further into the cushions.

 Natasha found you a few hours later, eyes slightly glazed over as you were lost in your thoughts. You didn’t blink as she turned of the TV, and you didn’t acknowledge her until she gently shook your shoulder.

 “Nat?” you blinked, looking around. “When did you get here, what’s going on?”

“Only a moment ago, you seemed pretty lost in your thoughts” she told you, taking a seat on the couch. “We got them talking, in the end. We know why they came here.” “And?” you asked, sitting up straighter and turning to face her.

She waited a moment, her eyes carefully taking in your expression. “They came for you and Barnes.”

“Hydra?” you sighed when she nodded in confirmation. “It’s been years and yet they still want us.”

“We thought we had got all of their agents… obviously we were wrong” she said, head tilting and eyebrow lifting slightly as she spoke.

“‘Cut off one head and two more shall take its place’” you quoted.

  October

 You had never celebrated Halloween before. You had been raised in an orphanage un by the Orthodox Church and Halloween was act of betrayal to God. After leaving the orphanage, you had been taken into Hydra, where you never celebrated anything. After escaping the clutches of Hydra, you had been on the run. There was no time to celebrate a Pagan holiday while running for your life.

 For the last week, Peter had not stopped talking about the upcoming holiday. You knew the young hero was excited, he practically bounced when it was mentioned. He got especially excited when Tony had announced he was throwing a Halloween party and that Peter could invite his friends.

 “What was Halloween like in Russia, Y/N?” Peter asked you.

“It’s not hugely popular, not enough to be a tradition, anyway. People do celebrate it though” you replied. “When Russia welcomed the West in the nineties, it became more well-known… it depends on where in Russia you are from. The Orthodox Church doesn’t approve of celebrating it at all, so if you’re from a religious area…” you shrugged, trailing off.

“Did you ever celebrate it?” he passed the carton of ice-cream over to you.

“No” you shook your head, accepting the scooper. “This will be my first time.”

“Oh, you’ll love it! It’s so much fun!” he assured.

 After you had agreed to attend Tony’s party in two weeks’ time, you had gone costume shopping with Natasha and Wanda. You hadn’t been planning on dressing up as anything really, you were happy to just put of your suit and go like that. However, neither of the girls were willing to let you do that.

 “So, what do you want to be?” Wanda asked, browsing the shelves at the local mall.

“I don’t know” you shrug, following after her. “What are you going to be?”

“Vis and I are doing couples-costumes this year” she blushes. “We’re going as Alice and The Mad Hatter.”

“I’m going as Pennywise; I have the hair for it” Natasha shrugs.

“What’s Pennywise?” you ask, looking between your two friends.

“You’ve never seen It?! You’ve seen Sleepless in Seattle, but you haven’t seen It?” Natasha huffed in disbelief.

“Tom Hanks is in Sleepless in Seattle… I like Tom Hanks” you defended weakly, giving an awkward smile and a small shrug.

“We’ll watch it later, it’s great” Wanda assured.

 You continued to search the store for a costume, but nothing caught your eye. As you were beginning to think that maybe you just wouldn’t find one, a gasp to your left caught your attention. You turned quickly, your arm raised and ready in case someone was being attacked.

 Instead, Wanda stood holding a costume, grinning and bouncing in her spot as she showed you. As soon at Natasha saw it, she was smirking at you too, firmly agreeing with her choice. As you hadn’t found anything you liked, though you had been in the store for two hours, you reluctantly agreed to their choice.

 Later that evening, you sat on the couch with the rest of the team as Wanda kneeled in front of the TV. She placed the DVD into the player and grabbed the remote, returning to her seat beside Vision. She had managed to gather the whole team into the front room to watch It, a horror film you had never seen before.

 Wanda had shown you DVD case earlier and you had to admit, you were already a little on edge. You were an Avenger, trained by Hydra, with abilities beyond normal. However, seeing a picture of the clown, Pennywise, made your stomach turn. Especially when there appeared to be children involved.

 “Oh, no…oh, no” you whisper quietly to yourself, watching the small paper boat drain.

 The child, Georgie, was wearing a yellow raincoat like the child on the front of the DVD case. It was reasonable to assume he would meet the clown. Now, you weren’t a particularly nervous person in normal circumstances, but you grew up surrounded by children and looking after younger children in the orphanage. The instinct to protect children was ingrained within you, so you know this film would put you on edge.

 You hardly notice as you start to tilt to the left, your hand lifting up to pull at their shirt. The pulling causes them to lean forward slightly, enough for you to tuck your head behind them with your eyes peaking over their shoulder. You quickly close your eyes, ducking your head to hide as Pennywise’s mouth opens and reveals its pointed teeth.

 You breathe in deeply through your nose and its then that you realise who you are hiding behind. His unique smell fills your senses, making your head go fuzzy for a moment. It was a wonderful mixture of mint and woods. It was the scent of the outdoors, dirt and wood and rain. There was another smell underneath, something you couldn’t identify that was just all him. It was intoxicating, making your eyes want to roll back.

 You slowly pull away from Bucky, moving back to sit properly. Your cheeks are ablaze, no doubt bright red with embarrassment. You had never touched Bucky before and the first time you had, you had hidden behind him because of a film.

 Though Bucky had allowed you to move him – he was more than strong enough to resist you – you knew he wasn’t comfortable with that contact. While he hadn’t been rigid, his body had been tensed against yours. You knew Bucky well enough to know that he didn’t have physical contact with many people. He hugged Steve every now and again, received and gave friendly pats of the back with Sam, and often physically trained with other agents. However, that was the extent of the physical contact.

 Guilt ate up at you. You liked Bucky, harboured a small crush on him, and making him uncomfortable was not something you had wanted to do. You hadn’t even realised that you were moving to hide behind him. Still, you thought, that wasn’t an excuse.

 “Sorry” you whispered, so low that only he would be able to hear you.

“‘s’fine” Bucky replied, eyes not leaving the screen.

 You sat stoically throughout the rest of the film, so lost in your embarrassment that you hardly jumped. You couldn’t believe you had done that, that you basically cuddled up to him.

 In honesty, you weren’t surprised you had leaned towards Bucky when you were scared. It had been a subconscious decision to seek comfort from him, rather than from Sam who was to your right. Something about Bucky just screamed ‘safe’.

 A soldier, Hydra trained assassin, and valuable member of the Avengers, Bucky was not a man to be trifled with. He was strong, brave, and powerful. In every sense of the words. However, while you knew of his brute strength, there was something about his quiet persona which also assured you. He was observant, thoughtful, smart and patient.

 Everything about him screamed ‘protective’. You knew it wasn’t just your mind telling you things either. Bucky had proved on multiple occasions that he had the teams back, including yours. He had thrown a Hydra agent away from Natasha when she had been caught up in a fight with two other and hadn’t seen him sneaking up behind her. He had covered Wanda when she was using her powers to contain a bomb. He had covered for Sam when a one-night-stand just didn’t’ get the hint.

 He watched out for all of the team, without expecting them to return the favour. Of course, the team looked out for him in return, he just didn’t just assume they would. They worked together well, treating each other like the family they were.

 The film ended and the room was plunged into darkness for a moment before F.R.I.D.A.Y switched on the lights. On the right of you, Sam was sprawled against the couch with his head tilted back and soft snores falling from his nose. Looking around, you noticed Tony was also fast asleep and Peter was yawning.

 “So, what did you think, Y/N?” Natasha asked, shifting in her chair to face you.

“I didn’t like the clown” you admitted, blushing as you bit your lip and shrugged.

“Really, you’re scared of clowns?” Peter questioned. “Why?”

“That film… erm, the…the…I don’t know it in English. Pokhititel’ detey [Child snatcher]” you replied.

“Child snatcher” Bucky and Natasha translated simultaneously, before Natasha continued, “’Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’.”

“Mm” you confirmed with a nod. “We were told he was a clown who took children… It scared us all. The nuns would always threaten us, tell us that he’ll come to get us.”

“But he doesn’t look like a clown” Peter protested, confused.

“No” you agreed, nodding. “But when you’re young and that comparison is made, it sticks.”

 When Halloween came, you were locked up in your room to get ready with Wanda and Natasha. The women had both been excited for that the party, and you had secluded yourselves to get ready four hours early.

 Wanda looked beautiful in her short blue dress, with a white apron and a pair of white tights. The front sections of her hair were pulled back from her face, held back by an invisible hair tie and a blue headband. Her hair was lightly curled, bouncing down her back beautifully. Her black heels sat by the bedroom door, ready for her to slip on when you all left for the party.

 Natasha, true to her word, was dressed as Pennywise. The female, sexier version, anyway. She wore a short, ruffled dirty white dress with red pompoms down the middle. White knee-high socks covered her legs with a pair of blood red pumps on her feet. Her red hair was in two pigtails, the ends waved. Her face was painted white, with two vertical lines cutting through her eyes, over her cheeks and connecting to her red lips.

 As uncomfortable as clowns made you, you couldn’t deny that Natasha looked great as the killer clown.

 You stood in front of the full-length mirror, pulling at the hair that fell over your shoulders. While you could admit that you looked good, you still didn’t know whether you were up for wearing it. You were showing more skin than usual, much more, and something inside you said that was wrong.

 “You look great” Natasha assured you. “You just need to add the vines.”

 Your eyes ran over your body again. You wore a tight green corset body bodysuit which pushed your breasts up and together. Wanda had help you put on the authentic looking pink-red wig which fell in long waves over your chest and down your back. The two women had insisted that you skip the green tights and just wore the green heels with your legs near bare.

 While you looked good, your outfit wasn’t yet a costume. Not a proper one, at least. You walked over to your windowsill, hovering your hand over the small pot of dirt that sat there. Slowly, two stems of vines poked out from the soil. You reached in, plucking them out and bending over to hold them against your ankles.

 A few moments later, long vines were wrapped around your ankles and extended up your ships and curled around the bottom of your thigh, just above the knee cap. Small pink, white and yellow flowers bloomed sparingly along the vines, adding pops of colour around green leaves.

 Picking one of the leaves and holding it to your chest, you closed your eyes and envisioned yourself. You imagined the more leaves sprouting from the one you held, imagined them growing and wrapping around your corset. The corset would be covered, left to look like it was created by leaves and not fabric.

 Plucking a flower from the vines on your leg, you held it to your hair and let it wrap around the stand, holding the hair back from your face. There, you thought as you looked in the mirror again, you looked much more like the character Tony nicknamed you after.

 “I feel like that’s cheating” Natasha joked, her head tilted, and lips pursed. Her eyes trailed over you, taking in the whole ensemble. “That lipstick does look good on you though; you should wear it more often. Now come on, we’re gonna be late and Wanda needs to meet Vision.”

 Natasha was right and you did enter the party late. Agents, scientists, doctors, social elites and at least one member of the press filled the open space. Tony had elected to throw the party at the compound, on one of the lower floors which had a huge open space.

 While the room was bright, shadows were thrown from the decorations. Fake spiders sat in cotton webs, hanging over banisters and on the edge of the bar. A cauldron bubbled, dry ice emitting white smoke over its rim. Knee-height plastic fencing lined a little path to a small booth where a photography waited to take pictures of guests.

 “Is that a coffin?” you asked, looking to the far side of the room.

“Any Halloween decoration that you can imagine is in this room” Pepper nodded, looking around. “You know what Tony’s like: ‘Go big or go home’.”

“Hence his attitude” Natasha whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Nat” you elbowed her, biting your tongue to hold back your laughter.

“Ivy!” the shouting of your nickname draws your attention to the eccentric millionaire who had just caught sight of you. “And you’re actually her!”

 Tony was thrilled by your outfit, and, in a rare display of affection from him, gave you a tight hug. Of course, he was immensely proud to say that he gave you the idea for the outfit. You smiled and shook your head, not bothering to argue with him.

 His hands traced the leaves curing around your hips, obvious amazement in his face. “How did you get them to do this? It’s amazing, they’re literally wrapped around you. Bruce, Bruce! Have you seen this, look!”

 You had been introduced to the quiet Bruce Banner earlier on that day. Natasha had convinced him to visit the compound and Tony had bribed him to stay with access to his own lab. While rather timid, he was more than comfortable to speak to you about science. While your brain wasn’t that of a scientist, your abilities were a scientific mystery.

 Something about the kind man made you comfortable to answer his questions. He wasn’t invasive like other curious people. Rather than wondering how you got your gifts, he was more curious about what you could do with them and how. Not because he wanted to use you, but because he wasn’t you to have a better understanding of them.

 What shocked you more was why he had this reasoning. You had heard about The Hulk, though you didn’t know much about him. While on the run, you had heard of the green giant with a strength beyond current measure. Finding out that Dr Banner was The Hulk was astounding.

 Rather than wanting to state his own curiosity, he wanted you to understand yourself. When he first became The Hulk, while he knew it happened because of his experimentation with gamma radiation, he didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t until years later and a lot of further research, that he got his answers and he was finally at peace with himself.

 Bruce wanted you to have that peace too.

 “Huh,” Bruce said, poking at the leaves. “I don’t think this is natural behaviour at all, but we’ll have to run some tests.” He picked at a leaf slightly, turning to Tony, “Do you think we could get a few different varieties of bushes and flowers to-”

“Okay, stop, leave the girl alone” Pepper shooed them both away. “This is a party, your party Tony, you can play scientist tomorrow. Now go.”

Smoothing down his lab coat, because of course he came as a scientist, Bruce smiled before taking his leave. “See you later.”

“I can’t believe you just came in a suit” you shook your head at Tony.

“I’m James Bond” he defended, pulling a ‘are you for real?’ face.

“Yes, well, James Bond needs to speak with Mr Mikaelson about fund raising gala next month” Pepper said, hooking her arm through Tony’s and pulling him away.

 The rest of the party goes well, with you receiving many compliments on your outfit. Just like Tony and Bruce, they all seemed amazed at the authenticity of the plants which wrapped around your body.

 A member of the press seemed to be infatuated with your costume, though it was in appreciation of the plants but rather of your body. His eyes had travelled your body, focusing on your thighs, and he fought to keep his mouth from dropping open.

 You had made an attempt to avoid the man and his camera. Your evening was made exceptionally better when you heard his yell from across the room. He had put his camera on the table while he went to grab a drink and when he returned, his camera was broken. You had caught a glimpse of it, and it appeared to have been crushed. You couldn’t say you felt any sympathy for the man.

 It was towards the end of the evening that you ran into the trio you jokingly referred to as ‘The Three Musketeers’. The three of them stood near the bar, each with drinks in their hand as they cast watchful glances around the room.

 Sam had obviously gone for the humorous look. Dressed in a cheap Captain America costume, with the obvious cushioned muscles, he was clearly poking fun at his friend. In his hand was a plastic version of the real shield, part of it bent which was probably from Steve trying to grab it off him earlier in the evening.

 He was the first to see you walking over to them, reaching out and pulling you closer. He gave you a gentle squeeze in greeting before letting you go and waving for the bartender.

 “Y/N” Steve nodded in greeting.

“Hey, Cap” you smiled. “Love the outfit.”

 Steve was dressed as Indiana Jones, having watched the film a few month ago and becoming a huge fan of Harrison Ford. The brown leather jacket was tight across his back and he had the whip wrapped up and attached to his hip. The famous hat sat on the bar beside him, resting next to a glass of what appeared to be whiskey.

 You had to admit, Steve pulled off the character rather well.

 Bucky made up the last member of the little team. His outfit was rather unsurprising. Rather than a traditional outfit, he wore his mission suit. A tight black leather top with matching black trousers, combat boots on his feet. He looked like he did on any other day.

 When you tilted your head to the side and went to open your mouth to comment, he quickly held up his right hand. You quickly grinned when you spotted the mask, your eyes lighting up in amusement.

 “Oh, Bucky, we match!” you grin. “Now we just need to find our Robin, Harley Quinn and The Joker.”

“Hm” he rolls his eyes, letting the Batman mask fall to his side.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try and poison you tonight” you teased with a wink.

Sam snorts into his drink, turning away to hide his smile.

“What made you go with… this?” Bucky asks and your insides burn as his eyes travel over you.

“Wanda suggested it after I couldn’t find anything I liked” you shrugged. “It’s amused Tony and he made me take a few pictures with him. The nickname is definitely staying now.”

 It was true, Tony had found you after slipping past Pepper and had pulled you along to the photobooth. He’d taken great pleasure in telling the photographer that he had nicknamed you ‘Ivy’ and had, essentially, given you the idea for the costume.

 “I still think ‘Petal’ is better” Sam argued.

“I’m sure you do” you acknowledged with a nod. “You never call me by my name anymore.” “What is your name?” he joked; his face mock serious. When you made a playful threatening move towards him, he quickly wagged his finger at you. “Careful Pet, you can’t take me all by yourself.”

“I know for a fact that Bucky has a least one knife-” you begin.

“Three” Bucky interrupts to confirm.

“Three knives” you correct with a small nod in thanks. “hidden on him and would sooner back me up than you.”

“Three knives?! Bucky!” Steve chides, giving his best-friend a disapproving look before turning to you. “How did you know he had them on him?”

“The same way that he knows I’ve got a knife hidden in my corset” you shrug. “It’s what we were taught.”

 There’s no response to that as Steve and Sam are reminded of your time within Hydra. Though you weren’t often comfortable talking about the scientific experience of Hydra, you were not ashamed to admit you had been trained by the organisation itself. You had been tricked, and later forced, into it and it was in the past. You couldn’t hold it over yourself anymore or you’d never be able to move on.

 You had accepted your past and, now, it was time to more forward with your life.

 “And one in your left shoe” Bucky nodded at the heel.

“All right, pipe down” you rolled your eyes.

 Since the night the team had watched It, your interactions with Bucky had steadily increased. Though you could hardly be called best friends, the former assassin now spoke to you. The conversations were neither long nor often but still, everyone made your insides warm from his attention.

 The friendly conversation and teasing callouts were something you wasn’t expecting to develop but you couldn’t deny that you your enjoyed them. From the small remarks he made, you knew that behind his quiet brooding, there was a man with a sparkling personality.

Hydra had just buried it deep within him.

 Every day with the team seemed to slowly chip away at the walls he had been forced to build. His morning runs with Steve and Sam, his time spent with Steve regaining his memories of the forties. His playful fights with Sam, verbal and sometimes physical in the gym. Natasha goading him into a fight to see who the best assassin was while Wanda quietly encouraged him to join in with team activities.

 However, it was Tony who helped in the biggest way. It had taken time, but he had accepted that it was The Winter Solider who had taken his parents. He no longer blamed Bucky, which greatly eased the man’s guilt. He still felt horrible for what he did under Hydra’s influence, but he was slowly learning to forgive himself.

 “You two are unbelievable” Steve shook his head with a small smile.

“Thank you” you grin, playfully bumping your arm into Bucky’s.

“We’re here all weekend” he finished, flashing Steve his own smile.

“Where’d you learn that?” you asked, eyebrow raised at the super solider.

He pursed his lips, shrugging. “The Tonight Show.”

“Don’t tell Tony” Sam advises, glancing around for the billionaire. “It would only set him off and he won’t stop talking about how he’s been on there.”

 You spent another ten minutes with the boys before you left them to find Natasha. The rest of the evening passed fairly quickly, and it wasn’t long until you found yourself tucked up in bed. Your head aching from the wig and your mind overworked from socialisation, you soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 You woke up the next morning from a message from Natasha with a link which you soon clicked on. It led you to an article, posted very early that morning, of Tony’s party. Your eyes barely skimmed the article but near the end, you understand why she had sent it to you.

 There, clear for you to see, is a picture of you and Bucky. Your slightly leant against him, with you head barely titled towards him. Your both looking at something off to the side, both of you grinning happily. It takes you a moment to place it but then you realise, its from that moment with Steve.

 You both look happy, carefree. It’s the first time you’ve seen Bucky fully smile, his eyes seeming to sparkle as he looked at his best friend. Though you know he wasn’t entirely comfortable in a room full of strangers, he looks content to be within that group, your group.

 You smile and save the picture, dropping your phone on the bed and getting up for a shower.

  November

 “I can’t drink that; my aunt will kill me!” Peter hissed, pushing the flute away and quickly looking around to ensure no one was watching you both.

“Its fine, Pete, it’s just one glass” you assured him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I’m pretty sure the drinking age is twenty-one, Peter” Bucky said, stepping up beside you, arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised.

“I wasn’t going to drink it, Sergeant Barnes, honest” Peter denied, stepping back and waving his hands to show they were empty.

You rolled your eyes, nudging Bucky. “Leave the kid alone. He’s almost eighteen, and I know you drank way before you came of age.” You turned back to Peter. “I promise, Pete, your aunt won’t kill you for one glass. If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but don’t reject it just because your scared of getting in trouble.”

 You knew Peter wouldn’t get in trouble for drinking the one small flute of champagne. Before offering it to him, you had asked Aunt May if he would be allowed to try it. If he tried it in your company, where you could keep an eye on him, he wouldn’t sneak off to try it later and get himself in trouble.

 Tony’s charity gala was going incredibly well. Celebrities, socialites, the press and even a few ‘ordinary’ people. You could even spot two Gods walking around. The gala was being held in a large hall in the middle of Manhattan. Round tables with matt gold table clothes lined a hard wood dance floor in front of a large stage. Crystal chandeliers cast light around the room, with help from a single candle on each table.

 “Are you sure I won’t get in trouble?” Peter asked, eyes wide as he blinked up at you.

“I promise” you assured him.

He took the glass from your hand and starred at it unsurely. He took a deep breath as if to prepare himself before bringing the glass to his lips, taking a sip. His nose scrunched up, head shaking as he pushed it back into your hands. “Ugh, no, that’s nasty.”

You and Bucky laughed at his reaction, and you dropped the near full glass on the empty table behind you. “It’s champagne. People rave about it but it’s not really that good.”

“If it doesn’t taste good, then why do people drink it?” he asks innocently.

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “They don’t drink it for the taste, kid.”

“Some people do” you correct him. “Some people like it, like Tony, Pepper and Natasha.”

 You were solidly in the ‘I don’t like champagne’ team. Tony had insisted on opening a bottle after your first mission, to celebrate you joining the team, and that had been the first time you had tried the bubbly drink. Your nose had scrunched up at the taste and it led to teasing for hours about your lack of taste in alcohol.

 “I think I’ll just stick with this” Peter said, tilting his glass of Sprite towards you. Something catches his eye over your shoulder and he grins. “MJ’s here!”

“Go get her, tiger” you tease, nudging him in her direction.

“I’ll see you later” he blushes, hurrying in the direction of his girlfriend.

 Your heart warms as you watch them greet each other. Their hands link, squeezing gently, neither of them ones for public displays of affection. They were truly adorable, probably the cutest couple you had come across. MJ was a sweet girl, a dry sense of humour and a sassy personality. She complimented Peter’s soft nature perfectly.

 You were glad she had accepted Peter’s invitation, though you knew she wasn’t a fan of large fancy parties. Everyone was told that they needed a date for the gala, and Peter had worried that MJ wouldn’t accompany him, and Tony would be disappointed that he was failed to acquire a date. You had reassured him, of course, but that worry was still there.

 “I adore them” you sigh happily, watching as they huddle at a corner table to hide and talk, rather than socialise.

“Trust me, everyone knows” Bucky nods. When you turn to his with a raised eyebrow, he continues, “You provide the kid with a bouquet every time you see him, just so he can give them to MJ.”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink. “She likes the white and blue hydrangeas.”

It was quiet for a moment before Bucky spoke again, “You know the last time she came to the compound, he took her to the sanctuary?” “I’m not surprised, everyone visits at some point” you grin for a moment before turning a little more serious. “I found Richard from HR there the other week. He was picking at some of the daisies… which mysteriously suddenly grew sharp thorns. He’s been permanently banned, and I asked Pepper to send a compound-wide email with instructions of not to touch our flowers.”

 From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky give a small smile at your use of the word ‘our’. You quickly lifted your glass for another sip of your drink, attempting to hide the blush colouring your cheeks.

 You had been truthful in your words. In your mind, the flowers belonged to both of you. While people visited the sanctuary at their leisure, it had an ‘owner’, so to speak. However, you couldn’t help but feel like the sanctuary belonged to you and Bucky.

 Even though winter had come, you could still find Bucky in the sanctuary at various times throughout the day. He’d be wrapped up in his leather jacket, with a scarf and a pair of gloves on. Sometimes he’d have a thermos between his knees, a book in one hand and a cup of still-steaming coffee in another.

 With the amount of time you both spent in the sanctuary, you had gotten comfortable in each other’s company. You would share the bench and read together. Bucky would bring an extra thermos for you and you would pastila, cherry pirozhki, and plyushka. You sit with your coffees and snacks and enjoy the silence and comfort of the sanctuary.

 Slowly, you began to talk more and more. While before the conversations had been short, they slowly grew longer and more personal. His trust in you grew. You had been with the team for six months, and it had taken time, but he grew to trust you. you had his back during missions, you supported him silently through training with small nods in his direction, you helped his healing by growing sunflowers for him.

 It was during one of your evenings on the bench that he told you about his favouritism of sunflowers. Most of the plants in New York, at the time, were rather drab. Weeds grew from the sidewalk, some a spikey green and sometimes a sickly dandelion. He’d seen bouquets in stories, once someone had even brought one for his sister, but the variety was selected and with the fumes of nineteen-forties New York, they were often on the verge of weltering.

 However, when he had left the city of New York and went for his training with the army, he had seen them for the first time. Stuck in a bus of sweaty men, Bucky had gazed out the window and saw sunflowers for the first time. He’d tried sunflower seeds before, though they weren’t a huge staple in his area. However, he had never seen the flower itself.

 Bucky’s memory of the forties wasn’t the clearest, but this was a memory which he could envision easily. Dozens upon dozens of sunflowers lined the field. They stood tall, the large heads of the flowers pointed to the sun and soaking up its goodness. Unlike flowers in the city, these flowers were vibrant in colour. Bucky was sure he had never seen a flower so beautifully yellow.

 Through the horror of preparing for war, the flowers still stood bright and strong. It installed a sense of hope within him. If those sunflowers could be so full of life during war-time, there had to be hope out there. So, when Bucky shipped off for war, that was one of the things he would hope for. He’d think about returning to his mom, his sisters, Steve, and he would return to see those sunflowers again.

 It wasn’t just Bucky who had opened up. You told him about your childhood in the orphanage, of the children you used to help care for because the Nuns were always too busy. Though they could be kind, they weren’t exactly nurturing individuals. In a way, you couldn’t blame them. They had joined the church to serve God, and while some did choose to attend to the orphanage, a lot of them were assigned there by those of higher authority.

 You told him of little Nina. A beautiful little girl who was half your age. Just as her name said, she was a dreamer. She dreamt of leaving the orphanage, of going to far away lands such as England or France. She loved the sound of France, with the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre museum. While you did your chores and looked after the toddlers of the orphanage, she would tell you of her dreams to travel and explore. She’d been adopted two years before you left the orphanage, by a family in Austria.

 You had also found the courage to tell him about your time in the labs of Hydra. He was the first person you had openly spoke to about it, and he was patient and listened to you. it felt like it had taken you hours to tell him everything, the fear and hatred of the labs making you take breaks to gather your strength. He stayed quiet, a solid rock of support by your side as you finally told someone about what Hydra put you through.

 After opening up about your time with them, he told you about his. Hearing that someone else had been subjected to similar treatment… it brought you a sense of comfort because finally, someone may understand.

 Your interactions with Bucky weren’t limited to the sanctuary either. You sat together during movie nights and bowls of popcorn. He would spar with you in training, telling you to not use your abilities.

 “You never know, you could find yourself without them” he had said.

 You would leave out a plate of freshly made plyushka for him, with a small sunflower as an identifier of who the treats were for.

 When it came to the gala, it seemed natural for you to attend with Bucky. Just like Peter had been required to have a date, so had the members of the Avengers. Steve and Natasha, Wanda and Vision, Tony and Pepper, Sam and his current girlfriend Marianne. Bucky was your friend, someone you enjoyed spending time with.

 Going to the gala together saved you both. Wanda had wanted you to go with Richard from HR, the one who violated your sanctuary, and Sam tried to set Bucky up with Sophie from the third floor. Neither you nor Bucky were interested in the suggested individuals, so going together seemed like a pretty smart idea.

 However, you had not been prepared to see him in his suit. You knew Bucky was attractive, you had checked him out multiple times and had been teased by Natasha about your crush on him. Seeing him in a form-fitting suit, with his hair pulled back in a half-bun… it made your knees weak. You already knew that dark colours suited him, so of course he looked great in the black suit, but you’d also discovered that the pink champagne colour of his tie suited him nicely.

 Bucky’s tie perfectly matched the colour of your dress. Your dress was a beautiful pink champagne colour which complimented your skin beautifully. Spaghetti straps laid delicately over your shoulders, leading to golden vines and leaves which covered your breasts. There was a small gap of fabric between your breasts and waist, leaving smooth skin visible beneath the vines and leaves. The vines extended to the beginning of the floor-length champagne pink tulle skirt, which hugged your waist but then flowed freely to the floor.  

It had taken a long time to find the perfect dress. You had spent the day shopping with Wanda, Natasha and Pepper to find the perfect dress but all the ones you came across just weren’t…. you.

 You had tried on a tight maroon red dress, with a plunging neckline and a slit up the left leg. Natasha had been quick to praise you in it, her eyes wide and her lips stretched in a grin. The next dress you tried on was a strapless forest green, with slight ruffles on the skirt. Wanda had loved it, saying it ‘fits you perfectly’ but you didn’t think it was the one. Pepper had favoured a lilac dress with small flowers which climbed from the hem of the skirt. It was a wonderful dress, probably your favourite out of the three, but still… it didn’t feel right.

 You’d found your dress at the back of the store, hidden behind the colourful gowns that people usually went for. While still elegant, it was slightly more subtle than the other dresses in the store. As soon as you saw it, you knew you had to try it on. It was while you were putting it on that you came across the realisation.

 There was some form of floral design on every one of your outfits.

 The black jeans you had worn that day had small sunflowers stitched into the waist band and along the ankles. Most of your tops had pastel flowers pained on them, or bronze leaves. You had even specially ordered a pair of Converses with sunflowers, orange roses and orange and red bicolour germini.

 You don’t know how you didn’t realise your fashion choice sooner.

 When you had tried the dress on, you had known it was perfect straightway. Even without your hair and make-up done, you felt, as they say, like a million dollars. As soon as you had stepped out of the changing room, the girls had praising you and telling you ‘its like it was made for you’.

 When you had met Bucky at the compound, ready for the drive to the gala venue, he’d quickly complimented you. You noticed how his eyes trailed over your appearance appreciatively, with his mouth slightly dropped open for a moment before he quickly caught himself. Offering you his arm, he had given you and small smile and told you looked beautiful.

 You had thought for sure that you were going to die from the heat filling your cheeks. Your throat had seemed to close up and her heartbeat erratically in your chest from his compliment. You had been hyper aware of his presence by your side, his usual calm and quiet self except when he whispered quietly in your ear about a stuck-up attendee.

 “Mrs Archard thinks Pepper’s choice of band is appalling” Bucky whispers, pointing discreetly to the seventy-year-old woman who stood beside her husband, sipping on her gin and tonic.

“She thinks this is bad?” you head tilted in the band’s direction with a roll of your eyes. “This is classic music, no doubt from her generation.”

“Shh!” he quickly hushed you, turning you both when Mrs Archard looked in your direction. “Oh, hey, look.” He pointed over to the bar, your eyes widening when your eyes land on the person he’s pointing out. “Its that the guy who played Sally? In the plane film?”

“Sully!” you correct him, going on you tip toes to get a better view. “And the film was based on a real event, Bucky, you know that. It’s Tom Hanks, the Tom Hanks, and he’s here!”

“Let’s go meet him” Bucky shrugs, beginning to pull you in the direction of your idol.

You quickly pull on his arms, bringing him to a stop. “No! No way! I can’t meet him, that’s crazy.”

“Y/N, doll, he’s just a man” he said, and you can see the corner of his lips tilt up in amusement.

“No, Bucky, he’s not!” you insist. “He’s Tom Hanks! I can’t meet him, no way.”

When Bucky tried to tug you over to the bar again, you quickly duck away from him and dart to the other side of the room. Since coming to America, and joining the Avengers, your exposure to film and TV had increased. From the countless movie nights with the team, you had discovered your love for Tom Hanks.

 The actor was incredible, and he made you feel content while you were watching him. You had watched all over his work, multiple times, and you respected him immensely. He was your favourite actor, and an idol you looked up to.

 You were, however, much to shy to go and introduce yourself. You were a member of the Avengers, a highly skilled, Hydra changed agent but meeting your favourite actor? You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t know why the thought of meeting him shook you to the core, maybe because, in your mind, he was so pure and so good, far away from the dangers of your life, that you didn’t want to taint that by introduction yourself.

 Bucky, however, clearly didn’t think you should miss out on the opportunity to meet your idol. When you heard him say your name ten minutes later, you turned to find him standing there with the man himself.

 “Tom, this is-” Bucky began to introduce you with a small smirk.

“Y/N, yes” Mr Hanks interrupted with a nod. “I’m a huge fan, I’ve seen you in action on the news. Absolutely incredible.”

“Oh, erm, wow, erm, that, I-I, wow” you stammered, completely star struck.

“Y/N’s a huge fan of your work, Tom” Bucky informed him.

“Oh, so we have a mutual appreciation of each other” he chucked, gently patting your arm.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Hanks” you finally found your words, your cheeks heating up.

“I could say the same” he assured you with a smile. “Bucky was just talking about you and I just had to get him to introduce us. As I said, I saw the work you’ve done on the news. Your saving of those children in Cambodia… Its honestly inspiring.”

 Your heart was in your throat for the next ten minutes while you spoke with your idol, who actually said that you were his. To know someone you looked up to regarded you with so much respect, it made you appreciate the man even more.

 When a gala photographer asked to take your picture with Bucky and Tom, who had insisted you call him that, you couldn’t stop smiling. And the next day, when Bucky gave you a copy of the framed photograph, it was if the smile would never leave your face.

  December

 Your birthday passed in a blur of happiness and excitement. The day seemed so long, and yet so short. You’d entered the kitchen to a wonderful breakfast, where you, of course, sat between to of your friends and avoided the corners, as per tradition.

 Natasha gently took hold of your ear, tugging it and saying the traditional; “Rasti - ne bud’ laphoy [Grow up – don’t be noodles.]”

 The presents were wonderful. Natasha had brought you a new pair of black heels with, of course, a floral pattern. Wanda and Vision got you a beautiful jumpsuit to match which you couldn’t wait to try on. Steve and Sam had teamed up to buy you a beautiful charm bracelet with a beautiful Avenger’s charm and a charm of St. Basil’s Cathedral. Tony and Pepper got you a complete copy of the collection edition of all of Tom Hank’s work. Bucky had brought you a beautiful silver sunflower charm for your bracelet and, later, gave you a small collection of sharp throwing knives.

 You loved all your gifts, but the throwing knives made you tingle. You had spoken to Bucky weeks ago about them, telling him that you had seen a beautiful collection in a store over the other side of town. And from your limited description of them, he had found them and got them you.

 You couldn’t stop yourself when he gave them to you and had automatically thrown your arms around his shoulders. He had frozen at your abrupt action, seeming shocked. As you moved to pull away, his arms came around your waist. His metal arm was a heavy weight against your back but also incredibly light and gentle as he didn’t want to harm you.

 His manly scent of mint, the outdoors and just pure Bucky filled your nose and made your eyes clench shut. He smelled amazing, it was like your nose was clear for the first time and your first breathe was full of him. It awoke your senses and made you tingle as he took over your mind.

 You could have sworn there was a light pink tint to his cheeks when you pulled away, but you couldn’t be sure.

 It was an incredibly thoughtful gift and you had been quick to cover the blades in toxins which would render a person unconscious. Throughout your training, you had always favoured small blades which include the small throwing knives. They seemed to work best with your abilities.

 Throughout December, you noticed a subtle change in Bucky. Though he tried to seem casual about it, it was obviously to you. You were completely in-tune with everything he did, and when it involved you, you were even more hyper aware.

 Bucky touched you more.

 On movie nights, he would always make sure to sit next to you. Slowly, throughout the film, he’d relax more and more and then, by about half-way through, his arm would be pressed against yours. Sometimes his knee would bump against yours too. When passing by you, he would press his hand gently against the small of your back, his fingers trailing the skin. Rather than asking you to move when he wanted to get to a cupboard above you in the kitchen, his chest nearly pressed flush against your back as he leant to retrieve what he wanted.

 Once, he had even offered you his arm when you were both making your way to the sanctuary together.

 If it was anyone else who did these things, you would think nothing of it. However, it’s Bucky. Bucky had never been touchy-feely with you. Before, he would touch you only when necessary but that had obviously changed. It wasn’t a change which translated to the rest of the team either. He still avoided physical contact with them when he could, bar Steve.

 You didn’t want to let yourself read too much into the implications of his actions. You didn’t want to wonder if he was doing it because he was perhaps interested in you, because that would lead you down a dangerous path. If you allowed yourself to believe that he did, and then it turns out you’re wrong… No, you would just ignore it.

 Your first Christmas with the Avengers didn’t go to plan.

 You noticed the new presence in your room straight away. As soon as the doorknob had turned, you were roused from your sleep and your hand had stealth moved to the knife under your pillow. When the hand touched your shoulder, you quickly rolled over, bring the knife up and towards the persons throat.

 Your wrist was caught in a strong grip and was twisted to the side. It wasn’t enough to make you drop the knife, but it stopped it from hitting the persons throat. You sighed at the person standing in front of you, releasing the tension in your arm as a sign of you posing no more of a threat.

 “If you wanted to get into bed with me, you just had to ask” you teased, pushing yourself to a sitting position.

“Maybe I’ll join you later” Natasha replied. “Get up and suited. There’s been an explosion in Kecskemét.”

“Hungary. What happened?” you asked, getting out of bed and moving to grab your suit from the wardrobe.

“We’re being briefed on the jet” she left the room, most likely to wake the others up.

 You changed quickly, pulling on the tight, dark green body suit. You strapped your gun holster to your left thigh, securing the weapon and then attaching additional ammo to your utility belt. You tightly strapped your throwing knives to your right thigh where you’d be able to grab them quickly. A combat knife was strapped against your right ankle, and you put the comms device in your right ear before leaving for the jet.

 On the twenty-fourth of December, at nine-twenty-eight in the morning, local time, an explosion went off in the town centre of Kecskemét. Fifteen people were killed in the explosion with a further two-hundred and seven injured.

 From there, it was reported that three different groups were making their way throughout the city armed with heavy weaponry. They were executing people indiscriminately. Men, women, children… babies.

 The Avenger’s had been called as soon as the explosion had occurred, with the team on the jet and departing the compound with thirty minutes. The Hungarian army had been deployed to the city, but it was soon clear that they were not equipped to the weaponry that was being used against them.

 On a large screen on the quinjet, Tony played a video from the streets of Kecskemét. While the camera was shaky, the image was clear to make out. Bodies littered the floor; buildings were crumbled, and dust settled over the streets. A group of men stood at the end of the road, one pointing off to the side as he spoke, gesturing around himself.

 Tony froze the footage, zooming in on the weapon in the terrorist’s hands. It was large and bulky, made with thick metal and emitting a glowing blue-purple light. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes narrowing as you took in the sight. You had never seen such a weapon before. Being part of Hydra, you recognised nearly every weapon known to man, and knew how to wield most of them. However, you couldn’t recognise this one.

 “That’s modified Chitauri weaponry” Natasha observed. “How did they get that, I thought we got it all?”

“well, obviously we didn’t” Tony rolled his eyes, shutting off the record.

“I’ve never heard of Chitauri weaponry before” you said, looking between the two of them. “And something with this much power… Hydra would have trained us with it. Where is it from?”

“A few years ago, twenty-twelve, Loki tried to invade Earth” Steve began to explain. You nodded in understanding, remembering the team mentioning it happening but you had never known the names of the aliens which stood with the God of Mischief. “A section of New York was destroyed due to the Chitauri army which aided Loki. We thought we had collected it all but then there was underground trading of the weapons in Queens. Peter stopped that. Obviously, the trading of the weapons expanded world-wide.”

“That was Loki-Loki by the way” Tony injected, raising an eyebrow at you. Out of the whole team, he was the one who objected against your… ‘friendship’ the most with the man. “You know, your little bestie.”

“I never said he was a good man” you defended. “However, he treats me well and I shall treat him with the same respect.”

“Yeah, really?” he asked, both eyebrows raised now, and his arms crossed over his chest. “And when tries to make a move on Earth again?”

“Firstly, we don’t know if he would do that” you argued. “He may be a bad person, but he’s not stupid. Secondly, I would gladly help to stop him. He may be a friend but that doesn’t get him special treatment.”

 The quinjet cut the ten-hour journey to just over four hours, and it wasn’t long until you were landing just outside of Kecskemét. You were quickly split into three teams consisting of Wanda, Natasha and Clint, then Vision, Sam and Tony, and finally you with Steve and Bucky. After a round of ‘Good luck’ nods, everyone left to their assigned area.

 “Y/N, I want you watching out for any civilians. You see any, you get them out. Watch the buildings, make sure none of them come down on us” Steve ordered as your group headed for your designated zone. “Bucky and I’ll take down the assailants.”

“Ah, so you’ve got the easy job” you joke, pushing a stray strand of hair back. “It okay, I get, you’re getting old.”

“Pft,” Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m still in my prime, its that punk that’s on his way out. Dinosaur.”

“You’re still older than me” Steve argued.

“Don’t worry boys, I’ll visit you both in your care homes when we get back” you assured them.

 It didn’t take you long to reach the infiltrated area. Burning cars lined the streets, shops broken into with glass littering the street. A handful of people lay on the sidewalk, all on their tummy and went you bent to check for a pulse, there was nothing.

 You were about to turn a corner when you quickly reached out, grabbing the two super soldiers by their arms and pulling them back. You could feel it through the ground. The vibrations hummed into the floor, travelling to you. You could feel the movement of people walking on the ground, sending you clear information of what was around the corner.

 “Seven assailants. Two, far west. Three, east. One, front north. Two, south west” You reported, reading the vibrations of their footsteps. “Nine civilians in the building three ahead of them, east side.”

“Circle round the side, go in from the back” Steve told you.

“Got it” you nodded, turning to go back the way you came.

 As you pass him, Bucky grasps hold of your hand. He holds your hand for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting yours. There worry in stormy eyes, but he quickly hides it as he gives you a nod, gently squeezing your hand before letting you go. You give him a small before continuing on with your task.

 You run up the road directly besides the one with the assailants. It takes you less than a minute to reach the house which sits behind the building containing the civilians. Bringing your knee up and to your chest, you aim your kick to land directly besides the lock. Within two kicks, the door is down and you’re rushing inside.

 You run to the top of the building, on the far-left side. The room you enter into is small, which boxes piled three-high. The boxes are full, nearly bringing with metal pots, ornaments and clothes. Taking care to move the items to restrict damage to them was not an option, you had to get the civilian out quickly.

 The wooden floor of the room split in half, bowing downwards, and allowing the boxes to fall into the room below. The floor fixed itself within moments, the crack sealing over and leaving no trace of having been there. The wall separating you from the other building began to break. Bricks crumbled outwards, plaster falling with a swoosh of dust as a hole began to form.

 People who had previously been cowering against the wall quickly move away, frightened gasps leaving them as they watched the wall crumble. The terrified voices of a woman filled your ears and you hurried to assure them in their native language.

 “Ne fuss, itt vagyok, hogy seítsek. Az utcán vannak olyan férfiak, akik ártani akarnak neked [Don’t run, I’m here to help. There are men on the streets below who wish to harm you]” You speak, holding your hands up to show you meant no harm. “Kérem. Ki tudok hozni innen. Gyere velem. [Please. I can get you out of here. Come with me.]”

“Hemlock” one of the children say, recognising you. He tugged on his mother’s sleeve, pointing at you again and repeating your code name, the name civilians knew you by.

“Avenger” the woman realises, recognising you after her sons prompting. She turns to hurriedly inform the rest of the party, telling them you were part of the ‘superhero’ group and had come to save them.

 It was still strange to hear someone refer to you as a hero. You had never considered yourself to be heroic, actually, you had often thought yourself to be the opposite. You were a product of experimentation by a terrorist group, who made you into a weapon. You had the power to crumble things to the ground, you could wipe out a city with a single thought.

 Of course, you wouldn’t do that, but you still had the ability to do it.

 In the months that you had been part of the Avengers, you had saved over a dozen lives. Still, you didn’t believe that saving someone made you heroic. Well, that was a hypocritical statement. You considered Steve a hero, Bucky a hero, Natasha, Peter and Wanda too. Tony, Sam, Clint and Vision, they were all heroes. For some reason, that just didn’t translate over to you.

 You waved the civilians through the wall before quickly repairing it. You instruct them to remain quiet before quickly leading them to the street below. Before opening the front door, you pause and take note of the roads between you and safety. The streets between the house and the safety of the Hungarian law enforcement were clear.

 “Kövesse a virágokat, ők a rendõrséghez vezetnek [Follow the flowers, they’ll lead you to the police]” you instruct them.

 You opened the front door and led them out. On the floor, in a straight line, was a of flowers going down the street and around the corner. You had created the path of flowers to guide them to safety, knowing that you couldn’t go with them. You had to go and watch your teams back.

 “Köszönöm [Thank you]” one of the women said, squeezing your hand.

“Megy [Go]” you encouraged, nodding after the others.

 She gave your hand a final squeeze before hurrying after the other.

 You ran to the end of the street, quickly making your way to the road where you knew Steve and Bucky were squaring off against the assailants. Rounding the corner, you see three of them on the ground, with the others attacking the super soldiers.

 An assailant aimed their weapon at Steve, shooting it in rapid succession as he held up his shield to defend himself. You lifted your arm up, pointing at him as you concentrated on the assailant’s feet. Vines quickly wrapped around his right leg and he was pulled off balance. The sudden change in stance loosened his grip on his weapon and stopped him from firing, allowing Steve a moment of reprieve where he could throw his arm out, knocking the man unconscious.

 Your attention turned to Bucky, who was fighting two assailants at once. He grabbed the thrown fist of one in his metal hand, twisting a throwing a kick into the chest of the other man. His flesh hand fisted, knocking the first man backwards.

 It was at that moment you realised something was wrong. There were four assailants on the floor, with Bucky fighting two and Steve moving to remove the seemingly unconscious men’s weapons; knowing that Bucky had his situation under control. That made a total of six, there was one missing.

 Strong vibrations pushed through the floor behind you and you quickly turned to see the final assailant heading for you. He brought his hand, holding a silver combat knife, down towards your chest. You right arm crossed over your body before moving up and to the right, pushing the knife to the side. Your hand flipped over, grabbing his wrist as you crouched and slid under his arm, you leg darting out to swipe at his ankle. As his leg went from under him, you twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him to the ground using his own momentum from falling. You grabbed his dropped knife and stepped off him, allowing the vines to climb over him and hold him down.

 When you stand up, you notice Bucky watching you. His eyes are intense, watching as you push the hair out of your eyes and step away from the man, flipping the knife over in your hand. Walking over to where he stands with Steve, you give him a small smile before focusing on the Capitan.

 “All seven down, civilians are with law enforcement now” you confirm.

“We’ll have to take these weapons back to the states” Steve examines one of the weapons in his hands with distaste.

“We’ll need to take a few members back too” Bucky says. “Need to speak to the others, find out who the top guys are.”

“Mm” Steve agrees before reaching to activate his comms. “I’ll get us a van to transfer these guys.”

 It took a further day to ensure all the terrorists were captured, the team wanting to be certain that all members had been flushed out of hiding and another attack wouldn’t happen after you all left. The younger members of the group squealed quickly, and it was only a matter of hours before you found out who the leaders were and they were flown back to America for questioning, with the rest being taken into custody by Hungarian law enforcement.

 The team stayed in Kecskemét for a further three days to help with aid towards the injured city. While the team’s actions varied, you focused on repairing the damaged structures of the city. Any cracks, holes, or chips were repaired with buildings foundations made stronger. You ensured that every building was to high standards you held, meaning that no one would be getting hurt any time soon.

 By the time you all arrived home, no one felt like celebrating Christmas. You were all tried from the long four days in Europe and just wanted to collapse into bed. Presents were exchanged, but there were no celebrations, just a lazy family dinner of take-out food.

 January

 You had a new nickname to add to your extensive list, Doll. You hadn’t noticed it at first but after the first few times, you realised that was the only nickname that Bucky used for you. He only ever referred to you by your name, or by ‘Doll’, never ‘Ivy’, ‘Petal’, ‘Pet’ or anything else.

 He only used the nickname in private, when no one else was around. Or he would lean beside you and whisper it in your ear.

 “Hey, Doll” he greets when you push through the branchlets of the willow tree.

“Hi, Buck” you return, moving to sit beside him. You accept the cup of coffee, curing your hands around the plastic cup from the thermos. You sipped at the steaming drink, letting it warm you up from the inside. “Thank you. Mm, you added caramel.”

He gave you a small smile and a nod, turning back towards the pond in front of you. “You liked it last time.”

“Oh Buck” you grin, nudging him playfully. “You’re going sweet on me.”

“Don’t know why, you’re a pain in my ass” he teases but you notice his cheeks are tinted pink.

“A pain in your ass?” you laugh, shaking your head. “I grew sunflowers for you, made sure there were plenty of plants for your little bunny friends. I have your back all the time, not just on missions. Remember when Sam and Tony were ganging up on you because of Sophie? I got them to back off. What about when you realised, you’d never tried fajitas? Who cooked them for you? Me. Who saves you plyushka? Me. Oh, and what about-”

“Okay, okay!” he interrupts with a small laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m the pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, you are” you agreed. “You’re lucky that I like you Bucky, or you’d be in trouble.”

 February

 “I’m don’t know about this” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears as you walk towards the kitchen, low and unsure.

“Do you or do you not like her?” Sam asks and it quiet for a moment before he continues. “That tell the woman! We all know she’s sweet on you.”

“She’s pro’lly just being nice” Bucky disagrees.

“Buck… she’s not like that with other people” Steve’s voice joins the mix.

 Your heart stops for a second, who were they on about? Bucky had a crush on someone, who? By the sounds of it, it was someone who was nice to him. Then again, who wasn’t nice to Bucky. He was like a little puppy which the team secretly adored.

 You knew it wasn’t Wanda, she was happily with Vision.

 It could be Natasha. She had always had a close friendship with Bucky, sharing experiences which were eerily similar, and he had even shot her once, which she was completely okay with. It was a strange friendship, you admit, but it was clear that they favoured one another. They had silent conversations with just a shared look and seemed to be completely in sync when on missions.

 It could be Sophie, from the third floor. She was sweet on Bucky; you knew that for sure. She had brought him coffee, invited him to see a movie and made him baked good. You had thought, however, that Bucky wasn’t interested in the girl. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he did like her.

 A part of your mind whispered that it could be you, but you quickly dismissed it. Bucky had never shown any interest towards you that wasn’t platonic.

 “So, what, I just ask her out?” Bucky asks.

“Ooh, who are you asking out, Bucky?” you force a smile onto your face as you walk into the kitchen.

“Well-” Sam begins, his normal shit-eating grin on his face.

“No one” Bucky is quick to interrupt, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“Oh, come on! Sam and Steve know, why can’t I?” you pouted, reaching for a glass.

“You’re different. You’re not one of the guys or anything, you’re… you” he shrugged.

 Your shoulders deflated at the comment and you realised it was true. You were just Y/N, you weren’t one of ‘them’. You had thought that you and Bucky had gotten closer but obviously that assumption had been wrong. You weren’t close enough for him to talk to you about stuff like that, his words had made it obvious that he didn’t want to talk to you about it just because you were a girl. He didn’t want to talk to you about it because you were Y/N.

 “Oh” you nodded quietly. You filled your glass with water and walked back to the door. “I get it, sorry for asking.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that” he rushes to say.

You held up your hand to stop him, giving a smile which probably looked more like a grimace. “Its fine, Barnes, don’t worry. I get it. I’m sorry for asking.”

 You left the room quickly, retreating back to your room and crawling under your duvet. You’d never called him by his surname before. You usually referred to him as Bucky, or Buck, and, when you were feeling particularly playful, sometimes ‘sir’. If your tone didn’t show that he had hurt your feelings, your use of his surname would definitely make him aware.

 It felt like hours later when there was a knock on your bedroom door. With a groan, you pull yourself out of bed and open the door. On the other side, Bucky is standing with his hands in his pockets, slightly hunched and looking as if he was trying to appear smaller. He rolled him lips into his mouth, his voice quiet as he asked if he could come in.

 Closing the door behind him, you returned back to your bed, pulling one of your pillows into your lap as he stood in the middle of your room. He looked around himself, taking note of the loveseat, which was covered with a fluffy blanket, your laptop balanced on the arm. Your wardrobe door was slightly agar and had a scarf hanging over it.

 “I’m sorry for what I said” he apologies again, avoiding looking at you.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been nosey” you shrug.

“No, you don’t understand” he sighs, his metal hand brushing the hair back from his face. “I didn’t want to tell you because… because…”

“Because I’m me, I get it” you assure. “I’m the person you sit and look at flowers with, I’m not the person you talk to about your crushes.”

“No, you’re not” he agrees.

 You nod your head, biting your lip as your eyes stings. Your chest aches, as if a hole had been carved through it. The thing that hurt you wasn’t that Bucky liked someone else, it was that he didn’t consider you a close enough friend to want to tell you.

 You had considered him one of your closest friends. You told him your secrets, told him of your desires to go back to Russia one day and see your home city. Of wanting to visit places you hadn’t gotten a chance to because of you were hiding before. You had told him that you were scared that one day, Hydra would find you again; something you hadn’t even told Wanda or Nat. He knew of your secret love to goad Tony into an argument by speaking in a language he didn’t understand. And he knew so much more than that.

 And yet he didn’t want to tell you this. You knew it was ridiculous to be hurt by something like this, it was small and trivial, but you couldn’t help your feelings. Your feelings were valid though. The person you trusted, didn’t trust you in return. It was, sad to say, a fact which you would have to accept.

 “You’re the person I have a crush on” Bucky finishes, his voice small as he finally looks at you.

 His expression is one of obvious worry. His blue eyes are wide and doe-like, watching you with nerves as you try to come to terms with his confession. He’s rolling his lips into his mouth, waiting for your reaction which he no doubt expected to be negative.

 “You… what?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Me? I’m the person who you have a crush on? Why would it be me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be you, doll?” he snorts, giving a small shake of his head. “You’re amazing. You grew my favourite flowers for me, without hardly knowing me. You save my seat on the sofa during every movie night because you know that I like being on the end. You make sure there are toffees in the snack draw for me, and you hide the Starbursts from Tony and Clint for me… You took me to Starbucks and Walmart for the first time, and you helped me hide from the woman in Target. You trimmed my hair when I got too nervous about the hairdresser and you sit with me when I need my arm looked at. You watch out for me on missions and when we get back, you always bake me something to cheer me up…”

 He moves to crouch before you, taking your hand in his. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, likes its about to break through your rib cage. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Bucky Barnes had a crush on you. Your heart was souring, your mind floating through the clouds.

 “You’re sweet on me, doll, but I’m just as sweet on you” he tells you. “It’s okay, though, if you don’t feel the same. I don’t expect you too. I know that its pro’lly just you being nice. You’re always nice, nice to everyone… but… I just want you to know, it’s you that I like, and I’ve liked you for a long time.”

 One of your hands left his, moving to cover your mouth as you laughed in disbelief. The tears in your eyes changed from those of hurt to those of pure joy. Bucky liked you, he wanted you. You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t allowed yourself to believe that this moment could ever happen, it was never a real possibility in your mind. And yet here he was, professing his feelings for you.

 “I do” you assure him, pulling your hand away from your face so that he could see your smile. “I do like you!”

“Really?” his eyes light up, a grin quickly spreading over his face.

“Of course,” you nod, cupping his face. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, Bucky, how could I not? You make me feel things that I never thought were possible. Being around you, I feel happy, I feel free. I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

 By the time you’ve finished speaking, his hands are gently cupping your face, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks. You could see the slightly tears in his eyes, and his smile is wide and happy. It’s as if he’s just heard everything he has ever wanted to hear, as if you had said the magic words.

 His eyes flicker from your own, down to your lip and then back to your eyes. You give a small nod, barely moving your head but he catches the movement and he leans him.

 When his lips touch yours, your breath leaves your body in a pleasured sigh. While his lips are soft, their a little chapped from where he has bit them due to his nerves. They were gentle against yours, the pressure light as he didn’t want to push you too far.

 You were on top of the world, your heart beating erratically as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers tracing his stubble. You had never thought that kissing Bucky would be like this. It was like a set of fireworks were going off in your chest, and you were more than happy with it.

 “Does this mean I’m your girl?” you ask him, smiling when you’ve pulled back from the kiss.

“My best girl” he confirms, pulling your lips back to his.

 And you went happily.

Permanent Tag: @sskhair​

[thetaoofzoe]

FIC: The Mercy In You 1/1

Pairing: Demon Priest! Henry Cavill x YOU

Summary: You liked Sunday Sermons in the courtyard of the church the most. 

Rating: Explicit, some religious/satanic imagery, oral sex (male receiving), rapacious absolution and yes, it’s the smutty smut you expect ;)

Notes: I don’t remember who said it, but this came out of the conversation regarding Sherlock!Henry’s high white collar :)

Bonus points if you know the song from which I took the title.

(sherlock pic from andyicons)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

It was an extremely pleasant mid-Autumn morning and you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your shoulders as you sat on the soft, neatly cut grass in the small courtyard between the church’s main building and the second smaller building which had been repurposed for administrative offices.

A thick luscious green hedge enclosed one side of the courtyard, and on the other side stood a tall iron lattice fence woven with thick ropy green vines from which sprouted sweet smelling red and purple flowers. 

As you sat there, basking in the sun, you watched as two men, dressed all in black, ferried a small table and two matching chairs from the administrative building and into the courtyard where they set them up near to the tall hedge. Another man brought out a white dish, a vase of flowers and a silver goblet which he arranged carefully on the table. 

One of the men looked your way and you gave him a friendly wave. He nodded and you went back to checking your audio equipment. 

It was just another daily sermon session that the church liked to provide for parishioners who could not, or did not want to attend in person, but still wanted to receive the good word. You and your crew had been working with the church for months now, helping them to set up and livestream the daily sermons, and then edit and post the videos to the church’s website for future viewing.

You attended most of the filming sessions and found that each presenter brought a different flavour to their sermons, which you liked. And, while you weren’t particularly religious you found yourself liking the Sunday Sermons the best, for was a nice positive way to start the week. 

‘Well,’ said the cameraman, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘We’re just waiting for the priest. We’ve got about a half hour before we start the stream.’

With a soft groan born of stiff cramped muscles from sitting cross-legged too long, you pressed up from the ground and stretched.

‘I’ll go and have a look around for him. I also want some water, so… two birds, one stone.’

The cameraman shrugged and you turned away, scowling, rebuffed that you didn’t even get a chuckle from your off-handed joke.

You walked across the grass to one of the open doors that you knew led to the corridor that ran directly passed the ladies loo and into the kitchen. Stepping  into the cool dim interior, something odd grabbed your attention. 

You paused and listened carefully, but there was only muted silence. You closed your eyes and a sudden wave of strange arousal washed over you. You sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the response of your body to that unseen force.

Then as quickly as the fervour had seized you, it was gone. You opened your eyes and casting about an apprehensive glance, you let out a shaky breath. You were alone in the corridor. Or at least as alone as you could tell. You made moves to continue to the kitchen when your bladder reminded you that there was another pressing matter at hand.

You eyed the heavy wood loo door and said aloud, ‘Ok, three birds.’

There were no towels, so you were still shaking your hands dry when you left the toilets,  and walked down the hall to where the offices were located. If the priest giving the sermon was anywhere, it was probably in there.

As you approached the offices, you could hear a soft chanting. The sound of it seemed to be coming from everywhere and you stopped, feeling a little disorientated. There was that rush of arousal again and you could feel the wetness beginning to seep into the crotch of your knickers.

The chanting waned a bit and keeping your focus on the door marked ‘Office’ you forced yourself to keep moving. You then realised that the chanting was coming from behind the office door. Male voices rose and fell rhythmically and you wondered if they were getting ready for the morning. Although you were loathe to disturb the men, you lifted your hand to knock on the door as you had to fetch the priest who would be giving the sermon in less than half an hour.

You knocked, and the chanting ceased. Putting on your pre-emptively chagrined face, you waited nervously for the door to swing open and possibly reveal a frazzled looking priest. However, you were still facing a closed door after a few minutes drifted by.

You knocked again.

Silence.

You felt uneasy and slipped your hand down the smoothly worn wood to rest on the door knob. You didn’t want to just barge in, so you waited and lifted your hand to knock again.

‘Are you looking for someone?’

The quiet voice behind you made you jump. You spun round, and pressed back against the office door.

‘Oh!’ you cried, pressing a hand to your breast and cringing at how dramatic you sounded. ‘You gave me a such a fright! I didn’t hear you.’

You recognised the tall man standing behind you and he looked perfectly pleasant with his bright blue eyes, brown curls and stiff high white collar. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said slowly, but looked anything but. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

You let out a relieved, breathy laugh and mentally groped for his surname.

‘It’s Father ahh…’

‘It’s just Henry, please. There’s no need for formalities.’

You tasted his name on your tongue, licking it into the roof of your mouth, savouring it as you formed the syllables of his name and dumbly repeated it back to him, much to his visual delight.

It was an effort to break his gaze and you silently congratulated yourself when you managed to do it.

‘I’m ah…’ you jerked a thumb over your shoulder at the door behind you. ‘I’m looking for the priest who is doing the morning sermon. I... hahaha... I got distracted by the chanting.’

His eyes slid over to the door and then back to you and you felt thoroughly probed by his intense gaze. Your nipples tightened reflexively and you were embarrassed by the sweet lasciviousness that rose unbidden in your thoughts.

‘I don’t think anyone’s in there,’ he said, sounding incredulous about your claim of hearing chanting.

You opened your mouth to defend your own lucidity, but the words dried up when he reached for you. A pulse of excitement echoed in your core and you tensed, ready for the heat of his hand on you.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he merely nudged you aside and closing his hand round the wood doorknob, he turned it. You barely had time to step away before he swung the door open, revealing a small cluttered room with one dusty window and four wood desks crammed close together in the centre. Trying to keep a respectable distance between the two of you and failing miserably, you curved around the door frame and sheepishly peeked in.

The room was empty and the free standing water dispenser gurgled mockingly from its place in the corner.

With his hand still on the knob, and his body trapping you in the corner between the door and the wall, Henry looked at you.

He was so close.

‘Maybe that’s what you heard?’ he asked, indicating the dispenser with a jerk of his chin.

‘I heard voices,’ you mumbled, looking back at him. 

Noticing the thin strands of grey mingling with the curls at his temple, you caught yourself before you leaned in and sniffed him like a bitch in heat.

There was that wave of dark arousal again, deep and thrumming and more intense this time and you could only imagine that the source of that tantalising sensation, was Henry.

He pulled the door closed again and it slapped unceremoniously against your bottom, startling a gasp out of you.

‘Anything else?’ he asked, sounding pleased with himself.

There was something that he wanted, something that he expected from you and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that whatever this thing was, you wanted to give it to him. 

‘Forgive me, Father,’ you gasped, words escaping your wicked mouth before you even attempted to squash them.

His eyebrows rose with interest, silently asking about what you let hang unsaid in the air, and his plush lips lengthened into a knowing smile. There was an eagerness to his manner now, excitement and expectation in his fathomless blue eyes.

Was there a need to respond?

Obviously not, for Henry turned round without another word and beckoning you with two fingers, he led you from the administrative building to the main church and to the row of confessional booths lining the back wall.

When he pulled open the door to one of the booths, you belatedly thought that if this was the Father who was giving the sermon, this might make him late.

You had to say something.

‘I– I ah…’ you started and he paused mid-step into the booth, but didn’t look at you.

And in between slow, deep breaths, you heard him say, ‘Come, child.’

Or at least, you thought he spoke.

The whisper of his deep voice swirled around like smoke, coming from everywhere, coming from you and you weren’t sure which of you had spoken. You felt dizzy and unfettered and Henry was the only anchor that your mind could hold on to.

He then stepped fully into the booth and was sitting on the bench seat when you too stepped inside and closed the half-latticed door behind you. There was a low padded stool between his feet and instinctively you dropped to your knees before him. On the wall above his head hung the upside down cross outlined in thin red neon tubing and he was vaguely illuminated in the crimson tinged darkness.

You were sure that he was saying something and this close to him, you could feel his voice rumbling through you more than you could hear, or make out the words. You put your hands together in prayer in front of your face, then pressed your lips to the backs of your upraised thumbs.

Henry murmured soft encouraging praise when you reached forward and pushed aside the front panels of his black cassock. The material was softer than you expected and smiling a little, you stroked your palms up his surprisingly muscular thighs to where his trousers were fastened with a simple button and zip fly.

Henry trailed delicate fingers along your hair line and you could smell the scent of sugary vanilla and warm heather. You closed your eyes, inhaling the pleasant scent of his skin, and let your hands work blindly to guide his rock hard cock from his trousers. He was thick and heavy in your hands, nearly monstrous and your mouth watered at the sight of him. 

You looked up at the sound of a soft exhalation of breath and what you saw made your own breath catch. He seemed to glow, the caramel highlights in his chocolate brown hair catching the blood red light, that same light causing the wetness between his slightly open lips to glisten. Sharp, jagged upper fangs curved down against his lower lip and the evidence of his true nature pulsed molten heat through you. This is what he was, this beast, you thought ecstatic to be privy to this sinful delight.

It was nothing at all to slide his glorious cock into your eager mouth and even further when he pressed your head down.

The scent of him surrounded you and the taste of him was incredible. Flattening your tongue, you drew back and trailed saliva wet strokes up and down the underside of his rigid flesh and Henry groaned deeply, voluptuously in response. Greedily, you engulfed him again, suckling him desperately, unashamed by the muffled, hungry noises you made.

You dug your fingers into his thigh to gain some purchase as you encircled the base of his cock with the other. When you squeezed, he swore beneath his breath, pushing you on to do it again. You swirled your tongue round the swollen, leaking head, licking him, sucking him until his hips snapped up to force his slick cock down your throat.

He gripped the back of your neck, and growled, ‘Accept your absolution.’

You held your breath and went still, relishing the fiery pulse of cum filling your mouth. Your face went hot and with salty tears stinging your eyes, you accepted it rapaciously.

Mouth brimming with thick creamy fluid, you gazed up at him once more, and in the dim crimson light, he gave you a contented grin that again exposed his ivory coloured fangs.

 He then fisted your hair and dragged you up from your knees before forcing you to straddle him.

Leaning in you let his sticky cum dribble into his open, waiting mouth as he guided you down into a sloppy possessive kiss.

Your walkie talkie crackled and you could hear the staticky voice of the cameraman.

‘Have you located Father Henry?’ he asked, sounding annoyed. ‘He’s going to make us late!’

Henry continued to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth, heedless of the call for the Sunday Sermon. His grip on your arse held you tight to him and it was a struggle to pull away.

‘They… they’re looking for you,’ you gasped, stating  the obvious.

‘And?’ he asked.

‘And, you ahh… promised?’

What else could you say to a demon priest who was scheduled to perform the Sunday morning sermon?

Henry righted himself, huffed a disappointed sigh and standing, dumped you off of his lap. You tried to take a step back, but stumbled over the low stool. He caught you up by the waist and tutted softly.

‘I shan’t dare damage you as I wish to have you for later.’

In his dark embrace, you found yourself swooning. He lifted you effortlessly with one hand and opening the booth door, he deposited you carefully on your feet out in the main hall’s interior. You stared helplessly up at him, your devotion to him burning like a live wire inside you. You felt that you could weep at the sight of him. 

He looked perfectly composed and just as pleasant as he did when you encountered him earlier in the day. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to silence your disappointed moan when he turned and strode to the courtyard where the filming crew waited.

Instead of following him, you went to sit in one of the back pews and looked up at the monstrous upside down cross that hung behind the pulpit -  a knowing specter that had been a witness to your rapturous gratification.

Your walkie crackled again.

‘Get out here! Who else is going to work the audio?’

With a sigh, you heaved yourself up from the pew and trudged out to the courtyard. You knew you wouldn’t survive the next hour.

-End. Please like reblog and follow, all that good stuff. Comment if you were moved :)

[d4rkwr1t3s]

Ticking Time

Ships: Prinxiety, maybe platonic/mentioned romantic Dukexiety, mentioned other ships

Trigger Warnings: Apathy!Roman, a few innuendos, talk of gore, suicidal thoughts, depressive states, talk of bodily fluids (by Remus)

Roman had enough with everything. His ideas weren’t cutting it. Everything he knew had been tilted on its axis over and over. He was silenced quite often and made fun of. He had to apologize to everyone but no one had to apologize to him. He sighed and placed his head in his arms. 

Everyone had just assumed he had hit a creative block and he had to some extent. Nothing felt interesting or good enough anymore. The once vibrant red of his sash was now a muted grey. Usually, he would be upset by that but now he just felt nothing, numb. He looked over at the door to the imagination. It wasn’t just his but it was better than his slowly greying room. There it would be bright. Didn’t Logan say something about sunlight helping with depression? He couldn’t remember and he could feel himself caring less and less about it. He stood from his desk and stepped into the imagination. 

Usually even just stepping inside made him feel better. Usually his horse Merida was there to greet him. There was nothing vibrant or lifelike in his realm. The forest was alive as usual with Remus’ creatures. Each creature curses and spits at seeing him. Right, they’d get out eventually. Why didn’t he care though? The people weren’t real. There wasn’t even anyone there to protect anyway. The streets were barren and there were no bright colors in what he created. There were no decorations for some sort of festival. The town’s buildings were crumbling and slowly wasting away to become nothing but rubble. Even the castle seemed in ruins but not from a war, from time. 

Roman stepped inside and the doors shut behind him firmly. He sighed at it and looked up at the tapestry behind the throne. It seemed faded and the picture was no longer decipherable. He sits at the throne and lounges a moment. He listens to the creaking, breaking, dripping. His head hits the back of the throne but no sound escapes him. He looks to the side with a heavy breath. He feels like he’s drowning but there was nothing there. He didn’t feel panicked though. He felt strangely calm. Did it just feel like a suffocating hug? Roman couldn’t tell. He moved his hand in a circle to conjure something but nothing appeared. He looked up once more before he felt the gentle dripping of water. He put a hand to his face and wiped some tears away. Why was he crying? He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t feeling anything really. The tears didn’t even make it to the ground, blowing away as ash after it left his face.

He just sat on his throne and looked out across the empty throne room. It wasn’t comforting but it wasn’t haunting him either. It was a weird place to be. He looked up at the timer on the castle wall. It started and was just going up, ah, that’s what it was for. He hoped he could get out of this alone but he highly doubted it. He glances again at the clock. How long would it take for the others to notice? A day? A few days? A week? He highly doubted it but he didn’t hope for any less.

~~~~~~~~~~

A week had passed and no one had heard from Roman at all. While this wasn’t too much of a surprise considering his romps in the imagination, it was odd that no one was told, and that there was no influence by Roman. Every idea Thomas seemed to have came from Remus. Patton and Virgil had been working overtime to keep Thomas from actually streaking through his neighborhood, or hitting his friends with the fake morning star, or even doing dangerous stunts. Some were a bit more concerned than others but it was taking a toll on everyone. There were no new videos since all ideas came from a less than spectacular source. 

Virgil sighed heavily with his headphones blasting his playlist. Where the hell was Roman? He grunted at a sudden pressure on his stomach and peeled his eyes open to see who it was. He groaned when meeting a certain side’s eyes. “Remus,” he groaned out, “get off.” “No thanks! I know you feel it too!” “Feel what you insufferable prick?” “Oooh, nice one but sadly I’m not talking about a boner this time.” “Gross. Get off.” “No. You know something’s wrong too.” “I always feel like something’s wrong. Now get off!” Virgil moved to throw him off which barely even budged Remus an inch.

“Just look!” Remus pulled out a clock in a circling green and grey pattern.

Virgil looked at it with confusion, “uh-huh? What about it? It’s a clock? It’s the wrong time but nothing seems off about it.” “That’s the thing! Ever since the split it’s been red and green and broken. Now it’s green and grey and working. Something’s off with Robro and you’re the only one in this stuffy pile of horse shit that gives a shit. Some-” “Stopping you right there,” Virgil cut him off with a look of disgust before he shook his head, “even if there was something wrong Roman’s door is locked.” “Oh? Little bat tried to sneak in?” Remus teased, “gonna grab something to-” “Oh shut up. No,” Virgil's face still heat up at the implications, “what about your side?” “Haven’t been,” Remus shrugged, “besides it’s crawling with nightmares.” “I know that much but can we get over?” “Probably. Especially if something happened to the prince himself.”

“Okay. So can we go?” He questioned while he motioned for Remus to get off. “Yeah. We can go. If you’re ready to face some of your worst nightmares,” Remus teased him again with a grin. “Oh fuck off,” Virgil shoved him off this time and got up, “let’s go before this gets any worse.” “Ugh fine. You’re no fun anymore,” Remus pouted again but got back up and shook himself down before he grabbed Virgil and threw him over his shoulder. “Remus!” Virgil yelped and struggled in his grip. “Off we go to the piss-yellow road!” Remus cackled as Virgil groaned.

~~~~~~~~~

“Will you put me down now?” Virgil asked from his place on Remus’ shoulder. They had been walking for a little while and his stomach had started to get sore.

“Mhhhh nope!” Remus replied cheerfully while he shifted Virgil’s position.

“Why not? Your shoulder is not comfortable and I can’t fight like this.” “That’s the point! We don’t need to fight right now. As long as you’re attached to me you’re fine. I’ll put ya down when we get to Roman’s side.” “Which is how much longer?” “Not too long.”

“Very reassuring,” Virgil spat out sarcastically before sighing and just got comfortable. Remus hummed a sea shanty under his breath as he walked.

A little while later Remus stepped into the meadow right near the border with a whisper of, “wow.” “What? I can’t see.” “Look down.” “What?” “Look down.” Virgil sighs but looks down at the grey dying grass, “holy shit.” “I know,” Remus shifted to let Virgil down, “that’s not a good sign. We gotta hurry and look out for falling crumbling rubble and of course my little nightmares,” Remus grinned.

“Of course. It can never be that easy,” Virgil huffed and stepped to bolt into the kingdom. Remus not too far behind him with his morning star at attention.

~~~~~~~~~

“Next time,” Virgil panted, “just tell your nightmares to fuck off.” “But this was so much more fun!” Remus chirped with his morning star on his shoulder.

“Ugh,” He doubled over for a moment before standing straight up again and walks into the castle with another groan, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Remus cackled at the thorns, “sleeping beauty? Where’s the dragon?” Just as Remus uttered those words the ground started to rumble. Virgil glared at him, “you just had to open your fat mouth!” “Well I open it for-” “Don’t you dare finish that statement,” he snarled and dashed towards the left where there were fewer thorns for him to cut through, “you can deal with whatever that is!”

“Fair enough!” Remus cackled and turned to go outside where there was a thundering roar.

Virgil huffed and cut his way to Roman’s room in the castle where he was not. He sighed, “okay einstein, where would he be?” 

He started checking all of the rooms he passed with no luck in finding Roman. He walked back to the throne room, or thorn room now. Virgil looked over where the thorns were the thickest, around the throne. It was quiet inside aside from the ticking of a clock. A clock? He looked around for it and found it at the top of the tower of thorns before it flattened to create a ceiling. Could he be up there? Virgil looked for any sign he was up there but finds nothing. He sighed heavily before a glint to the side caught his eye. On the throne was a figure of stone but the glint of a sword at the statue’s side lured him closer. He hissed in pain when a throne vine grabbed his wrist. Virgil cut the vine and continued trudging forward to the statue. The thorn vines continued to slice at him even as he cut them down. He was panting once more when he got to the thorn column. Virgil raised his weapon to carefully slice through the column. He reached his hand through the incision he made and barely brushed his fingers against the statue’s. He couldn’t see the statue’s face but he could see the sleeve, “Roman…” The statue didn’t move, of course. Virgil cursed under his breath and forced his body through the column even if it caused the thorns to drag across his body. He made a small noise of surprise when he fell into Roman’s lap. He took a breath before pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Roman’s mouth. Virgil laughed softly when it didn’t work, “of course. This isn’t a fairytale. I can’t just magically make it better for you. I wish you had talked to me or even someone else. I want to help. You helped me so much and I should’ve checked on you. I went through hell to get here Roman. Please come back to us…” He sighed and moved to get up from where he was, “I’m sorry we didn’t protect you, Roman.” Virgil shook his head as he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to leave and tell Remus he failed. He jumped as a weight was pressed to his back and arms wrapped around his waist. “V?” Came the weak and rough question. “Roman!” Virgil turned to hug him tightly even if it caused him to wince, “you’re okay. I got you.” “I’m tired,” he mumbled into Virgil’s chest. “Alright princey. Let’s get you home, okay?” “Mhm,” Roman’s breathing was slow and even which made Virgil chuckle before picking him up. “Rest now princey. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures but Roman was already asleep. The ticking had stopped as Virgil walked out of the castle and back to Roman’s room.

[heyitsani]

WIP Wednesday

Okay, at the request of @mlim8 I whipped up a piece of the Beauty and the Beast AU piece for JD week.  Everything else I have done for this story gives away major plot pieces, so I wrote this yesterday just because she wanted something for this story.  

This scene is my version of the all too familiar exchange his life for yours scene. The story will be told entirely from Dick’s POV and loosely follows the Disney movie storyline.  There are just modifications to fit the Batman world versus the fantasy of the movie.

Completely unedited and subject to minor changes, but it’ll mostly stay the same.  Feel free to dm me if you want to scream about this or any of my other pieces that are coming.  I love making new friends!

Also thanks to Mel for letting me continue to bounce my ideas off her!  You’re the best!

Pulling up to the same place where Bruce had parked the batmobile, Dick frowned when he noticed the car was no longer there. They were far enough away from the majority of the city that thieves wouldn’t have gotten to it, but that didn’t account for whatever magic that had been used to protect this area. So he carefully set his motorcycle into stealth mode and left it tucked between two smaller buildings in the area. If he was lucky, it would be there to get him and Bruce back to the cave once he found the other man.

“I’m approaching now, Agent A,” he reported to Alfred through the comms, sticking to the shadows as he approached. He kept one eye on the grounds and the other on any possible movement around him. “I didn’t notice it last time, but you can actually see the current.” He moved to stand about a foot away from the now just slightly visible wall of magic. He looked up, trying to see how far it went, but after about ten feet, the angle didn’t provide a good look.

It almost reminded him of heat waves that came off the pavement during the worst of Gotham’s summers.

Reaching out a hand, Dick carefully touched the wall and jerked a hand back when it felt like he had been zapped by one of his escrimas. “It feels like electricity,” he said into the comm but the reply he got back was crackled and broken. And that meant he was probably on his own. “I’m not sure if you can hear me anymore, but I’m going in. Call for the League and the Robins. Find a magic user and get them here if you can. I’ll bring him back, Alf.” And with a deep breath, he stepped forward and into the wall of magic.

And when he came out on the other side, he bent forward with his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. “That is not a good time,” he groaned to himself as he tried to pull himself together. With a few more deep breaths, Dick straightened and gasped in surprise at the sight of what was on the other side of the wall.

The image projected on the city side of the wall was what he remembered the area to look like. Three large, abandoned warehouses and their various grounds surrounding them. Gray and boring, weathered from the lack of upkeep and use. But what was before him seemed almost gothic in comparison. In fact, it looked like some of the older buildings of the city. Gargoyles and all. The plain concrete walls had been replaced with stone, vines that had not been there two years ago had begun to creep up them giving them an even more aged look.

The grounds themselves were green and reminded him far more of the Manor than what he would have expected a warehouse to look like. They also looked immaculately kept. It was almost as if whoever had done the spell had taken a gothic castle and placed it on the edge of Gotham while making every one in the city believe the warehouses remained.

It made Dick feel like he had a rock in his stomach. This was a very powerful spell.

Scouting the area as best he could, Dick carefully made his way forward with his escrimas in hand and ready for a fight. He didn’t know what he was bound to encounter, but he wasn’t going to chance not being prepared. Not when it might be Bruce’s life on the line.

When the grounds revealed little information, Dick snuck his way inside through one of the windows in the front and quietly made his way through the main foyer. The more he saw of the building, the heavier the pit in his stomach got.

The sound of fierce whispering hit his senses as he came to the base of a set of stairs.

Nightwing, it is Nightwing.

He frowned, looking around to try and find the source.

Nightwing can do it.

He wanted to ask what exactly the whisperers thought he could do, but instead he remained silent and looked up the stairs. There was a faint light further up and like a moth, Dick made his way toward it. The whispers got quieter and quieter the further up he went. Until they had vanished all together and he was standing at the top of the stairs, looking at something that he was struggling to understand. It looked like cells but it wasn’t making sense in his head.

Of course, if this really was some sort of medieval structure, it would make sense for their to be a tower with cells for keeping prisoners. But what that even what this was.

The sound of movement from one of the ones on the right caught his attention and with barely a thought, he rushed forward to peer inside. “Batman!” He cried, latching his escrimas on his back before gripping the bars of the cell door. “Are you okay?!” He questioned as he looked the older man over.

“Nightwing,” the name came out as a groan and Dick frowned. Bruce looked roughed up, but he didn’t look like he was in that bad of condition. “You have to leave. Get out of here now. Before it takes you like it took them all.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to just leave you here,” he shook his head before searching his utility belt for his lock pick so he could get the cell open and get Bruce out of there. He had just about gotten the lock open when a loud crash sounded behind him and he was flying toward the cells on the other side of the small hallway.

“What are you doing here?!” The question was practically growled, and Dick tried to focus on the source but all he could see was a shadow and a pair of glowing green eyes. “You don’t belong here. Leave!”

Shaking his head, Dick looked over at Bruce before looking back to the shadow. “I’m not leaving without Batman.”

“Yes, you are,” the shadow growled. “He’s my prisoner. He’s cursed to remain.”

Dick carefully stood to his feet and grabbed his escrimas, moving into a fighting stance. “I’m not leaving without him. So either you give him to me or I take him.”

“Nightwing, no!”

But Dick ignored Bruce’s call and carefully moved so he was standing in front of his mentor’s cell. He didn’t know who or what it was he was facing, but he had fought enough in his years to be adaptable. “Dick, please just go. Get out while you can.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“One of you is leaving before I really lose my temper.”

That gave Dick pause. “One of us?” The shadow seemed to tilt it’s head and Dick considered the idea building in his mind. He could get Bruce out of there. He could get Bruce home to Alfred. And Bruce would figure out a way to get him out of there. He could do that. Dick would never be able to figure out how to combat magic like this. He wasn’t sure even their magic users in the League would be able to. But Batman always found a way. “Take me instead.”

“What?”

“No!”

“You heard me. Take me instead. Release Batman and I’ll take his place.”

“You…” the shadow paused, sounding almost awed. “You would do that for him?”

“Yes.”

“Dick don’t do this, please.”

Turning his head just slightly to lock eyes with Bruce, Dick pursed his lips. “I have to. You’ll figure it out. You’re already there. I trust you.” The man frowned but understanding filled his eyes and he gave Dick a firm nod. Turning back to the shadow, Dick latched his escrimas again and raised his chin. “I’ll stay as long as I have to if you promise to let him go safely on the other side of the magical wall.”

There was silence before the shadow moved like liquid, shoving Dick out of the way and getting Bruce out of the cell. In a blink of an eye, the pair were gone and Dick was left alone wondering what he was supposed to do now.

[goldencuffs]

the tape

tw: a sex tape is filmed and released without consent.

Damen didn’t expect to wake up on Wednesday morning to the headline: Famous Football Player Caught in Tantalising SEX SCANDAL, Scroll for Video — but, well. He sort of knew it was a possibility.

 Julius had been a sweet little thing at Ernesta, the club Damen and his teammates frequented after a game or a training session or anything, really. Damen had caught sight of Julius’ blonde hair under the strobe lights, and had made his way over, tipsy and light, and just horny enough that he could last a full conversation with minimal wandering hands.

 Julius had been a ‘huge fan’ and pretty enough that Damen neglected his one rule: which was to never hook up with fans. They’d made it to Damen’s penthouse within half an hour, and Julius must have set up his phone to record them when Damen went to the bathroom after the first round.

It had honestly been the most average sex of Damen’s life — which was the only reason why he had been upset that Julius had leaked the tape at all. Damen hadn’t even tried very hard to make Julius cum, and he’d still been mostly hard throughout it all, his own release unsatisfactory.

 When he tried to explain this to Laurent later that day, during lunch at their favourite brunch place, Laurent’s face twitched. He looked furious, and then upset, and then both those expressions slowly absolved, until his expression was a flat, distant thing that unsettled Damen.

 In fact, it unsettled Damen so much, he began talking, without quite meaning to, “I just wish he’d told me he was going to film a whole tape, you know? That way I could have busted better moves. Or, made suggestions with the lighting or something. Look here — my entire body is blurry, so it’s like, what’s the point? What the fuck are we supposed to be looking at?”

 From his phone, Julius’ breathless voice panted, “Yes, harder, oh you’re so good for me.”

 It wasn’t loud enough to be heard by the other patrons in the cafe, but Laurent put his knife and fork down and hissed, “Will. You. Put. That. Away.”

 Damen did, swallowing. For the first time since he had read the article, seen the tape, and responded to the dozen or so text messages from friends about the tape, he felt embarrassment.

 Laurent wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes slid away, to the busy road outside, his mouth turned.

 Damen turned back to his food. Neither of them said anything else for the rest of their meal.

 *

 Damen genuinely didn’t mind the release of the tape. Julius had wanted his fifteen minutes of fame; Damen had wanted a lay — it was a win-win situation.

 No one else cared too much about it either; his teammates made sly jokes about it in the locker room, Makedon slapped him on the back with a shake of his head, and even Kastor let it slide.

 But there was one thing that did bother Damen — and it was that the love of his life, the man of his dreams, his soulmate, Laurent, was ignoring him.

Laurent had been downright hostile any time someone mentioned it; he’d eviscerated Nikandros verbally during dinner when Nikandros had made a joke about it, and he refused to look Damen in the eye.

 That was the worst part, thought Damen. Laurent was now skittish around him, like the thought of being around Damen too much nauseated him.

 He’d always known Laurent was reserved when it came to sex. He made jokes about it, talked about it as much as a healthy, twenty-seven-year-old man did, but it was never on a personal scale. When it came to Laurent’s own sex life, he was always tight lipped, even though sometimes Damen wanted to know, purely on a masochistic level. It honestly killed Damen when Laurent came in last summer to review his legal contract, briefcase in hand, and a bright red hickey on the white spot beneath his ear. It was the first time Damen had thought he might kill someone — rather violently, too.

 So, that was one of the reasons Damen used to justify Laurent’s behaviour. He was probably embarrassed about seeing… so much of his best friend. Damen wouldn’t have minded seeing Laurent naked, but that was only because he had been in love with Laurent for the last four years now.

 The second reason was that Laurent was so disgusted by Damen he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

 Damen didn’t like thinking about the second reason — so he didn’t.

 *

 A week after the tape, Damen invited Laurent over to dinner, at his family home. Theomedes was obsessed with Laurent, which Damen understood wholeheartedly; he was constantly wondering why more people didn’t fall in love with Laurent three seconds into meeting him.

 At first, it had seemed like Laurent might refuse. He was doing that a lot lately: skipping plans, cancelling so last-minute Damen couldn’t cajole him to reconsider, or in most cases, just flat out saying no.

 It seemed like today, the latter would be the possibility, so Damen said, panicked, “Please. I’ll make your favourite dessert.”

 Laurent perked a little at that. “Really?”

 “Yes!” Damen said, perhaps a little too aggressively, but it had Laurent nodding, a quick, stilted movement.

 Damen ruined the first three batches of chocolate mousse, but the fourth was decent, and the fifth was a bit better than that, so he went with it.

 Laurent arrived at seven sharp, straight from work. He had his favourite suit on, the charcoal wool suit that made everyone realise that Laurent was about ninety percent leg, and he was wearing the bright, spotty tie Theomedes had gifted Laurent about three Christmases ago.

He was so beautiful, Damen’s chest hurt. “Hi,” he said breathlessly, unexpectedly shy.

 Laurent’s gaze was unimpressed. His mouth did something strange; it compressed in on itself, until it sat in a straight line, and his eyes hovered over Damen’s shoulder.

 “You have something on your face,” he said.

 Damen tried a smile. “Well, get it off for me then, sweetheart.”

 He leant forward, very desperate suddenly for Laurent's touch, which in the past, Laurent had been very generous about.

 Laurent shoved the wine bottle he was holding into Damen’s stomach. Damen stepped back with a surprised oof, fumbling to catch it, and Laurent made his way past him, into the kitchen to talk to Theomedes.

 Damen stared after him, at a complete loss.

 He sulked in the bathroom for a while, and only came out when he was sure he could no longer avoid his father’s calls anymore.

 Laurent wasn’t looking at him when Damen returned, but he didn’t shuffle away as Damen took his usual seat beside him.

 Dinner was so pleasant, Damen almost forgot about how strange Laurent had been acting. Even Laurent had loosened, and he gave his first proper smile to Damen in a whole week when he tasted the mousse. It was a small smile, but Damen was going to remember it for the rest of his life, since they were so rare now, apparently.

 Of course, just as Laurent had completely relaxed, Theomedes said, “Do you think we’d have a case if Damen were to sue the tabloids and the man in the tape?”

 Laurent stiffened so much it was like he’d been propped up by invisible string. His shoulders tensed and pulled back, and his back was so straight Damen was sure he could run a smooth line down it.

 Haltingly, Laurent said, “I — don’t. I’m not quite sure.”

 “Why not?” Theomedes said.

 Damen said, “Dad. I’m not going to sue. He was just a dumb kid.”

 Laurent seemed to stiffen further at that.

 Theomedes frowned. “But surely ���”

 “I’ll ask someone at the firm for you, sir,” Laurent said, in a polite, contrite tone that wasn’t like him at all. “I only deal with sports law so I — I’d have to ask.”

 That settled Theomedes. Damen relaxed a little too, until Laurent pushed away his dessert, despite having more than half of it left.

 It was such a depressing thing to see, Damen couldn’t finish the rest of his either.

 *

 With how jumpy Laurent was, Damen expected him to leave straight after their plates were cleared, but Laurent lingered, drinking his wine, and talking to Theomedes about the Lions chances of winning this season.

 Damen barely listened. He was upset, and his stomach had been rolling tumultuously for the last hour.

 He excused himself to his bedroom and sat on his small, single bed for a few moments, feeling sorry for himself.

 When that didn’t make him feel better, Damen went to his desk and pulled out a well-read book. Book was perhaps an overstatement; it was a small collection of poetry Laurent had written for him a year after they met. He had handed it to Damen after his birthday party, when everyone had left, and they could have some privacy.

 “You don’t have to read it,” Laurent had said, bashful, when Damen had paused in stunned silence. That was when Damen knew — and over the years that feeling had only solidified.

 The binding hadn’t been the best, so Damen had rebound it himself. Along the way he’d marked a lot of the poems too. The love poems were a source of both serenity and torture, since Damen daydreamed that Laurent had written about making love in moonlit sheets about him, but.

 He was surprised when there was a hesitant knock on his door. Laurent peeked his head through, and then he was stepping inside, wine glass topped up and his tie loosened.

 Damen’s heart lurched.

 “What are you doing?” Laurent asked, and the wine must have made him forget that he was mad at Damen, because he sounded curious, joyful.

 Damen gestured to the curling cover of Laurent’s book. Laurent flushed heavily, the colour vining his cheeks and neck and ears.

 “You kept that?”

 “Of course I did,” Damen said, affronted.

 “They’re terrible,” Laurent said, shaking his head, still red. “I don’t think I’ve even read enough poetry to justify writing so many.”

 “They’re wonderful. See.” Damen flicked through the pages and showed Laurent all his markings, scribbling along the columns of Laurent’s poetry.

 Laurent watched with hungry eyes. But he said, “Oh, Damen,” with so much sadness, Damen went, instinctively, to touch his shoulder.

 “Hey,” he said, unsure.

 Laurent stepped away from his grip, but he sat on the edge of the bed, facing Damen.

 “What is it?” Damen asked, because Laurent’s face was pale, haunted.

 “Nothing,” Laurent said, attempting a small smile.

 Damen tried to return it but couldn’t.

 They sat in awkward silence for a while — which was foreign, between them. Damen talked enough for four people at a time, and Laurent, though he said otherwise, liked that.

 Eventually, Damen said, “You’re coming to Nikandros’ party on Saturday, yeah?”

 “Oh,” Laurent said, surprised. He blinked. “This Saturday?”

 “Yeah,” Damen said, his stomach knotting when he realised Laurent was most probably going to say no.

 It was worse than that. “Ah, shit, I’d completely forgotten…” Laurent trailed off. “I didn’t realise when I — I have plans.”

 “What plans?” Damen frowned, because Laurent had approximately three friends, including him, and they were all going to Nikandros’.

 Laurent flushed again, a finger tracing the rim of his glass. “Armand from work — do you remember? I mentioned him a few times at — anyway. He. He asked me on a date and I said yes.”

 “Oh,” Damen said, so flatly he didn’t think he had even made it sound like a word.

 “Yes,” Laurent said, flushing even more, not looking at Damen’s eyes. “We’re going to Charls. You’ve been there, haven’t you? Is it any good?”

 “Hmm,” said Damen.

 “Oh,” said Laurent, awkwardly. “That’s good.”

 He left ten minutes after that. Damen smashed a penholder.

 *

 The days leading up to Nikandros’ party were the worst of Damen’s life. It wasn’t as though Laurent hadn’t dated anyone for the last few years, but the fact that he was going on a date with Armand, rich, successful, handsome Armand, who cracked dry jokes and said things like, My supervisor would kill me if I said this but did you know… He was just so boring. Laurent could do way better.

 Nikandros’ party was, thankfully, a wonderful distraction. It was as raucous as ever, and the cacophony of noises prevented Damen from thinking too much. Damen drank, he danced, and he thought of flirting with Naos’ sister, but decided against it.

 He was on the alfresco, smoking, trying to ignore the couple in the corner who were three seconds away from having sex, when Laurent opened the sliding doors.

 Damen was so surprised, he almost dropped his cigarette. Then he tried not to get his hopes up. He was either so drunk he was hallucinating, even though it had never happened before, or Laurent had ditched Charls to bring himself and Armand here.

 Laurent was drunk, or at least getting there. When he saw Damen, he smiled wide, his teeth showing.

 Damen swallowed, eyes following Laurent as he made his way over. Laurent surprised him even more; he sat close to Damen, until their thighs touched and rested his head on Damen’s shoulder.

 “Hey,” said Damen, his heart racing, confused and hopeful all at once.

 Laurent propped his chin on Damen’s shoulder. “Hello,” he said softly.

 Damen’s mouth was dry. Laurent plucked Damen’s cigarette from his fingers and placed it in his own mouth.

 Damen asked, “Armand?”

 Laurent exhaled. “He was a dick. And not in the nice, sexy way.”

 “There’s a nice, sexy way?” Damen said, amused and relieved.

 “There can be,” Laurent said, handing the cigarette back to Damen.

 They shared Damen’s cigarette for a while, fingers brushing up against each other. Laurent was still on his shoulder, and this was so achingly familiar, Damen had been afraid he’d lost it forever.

 A few moments later, Damen asked, “Was he a jerk to you, Laurent?”

 “Not really,” Laurent said.

 “Good,” said Damen.

 Laurent propped his chin on Damen’s shoulder again. “What would you do if I said yes?”

 Damen said, too seriously, “I’d kill him.”

 Laurent’s breath caught. His eyes searched Damen’s face, and Damen tried valiantly to keep his expression as neutral as he could.

 Laurent pulled back. His eyes flickered to the ground, then to Damen, and then away. “I should probably go. I have a huge headache.”

 “Okay,” said Damen.

 Laurent squeezed his hand quickly, then dropped it. He made to leave the alfresco, his movements unhurried, a little disjointed.

 At the doors, he paused. Damen saw him hesitate, and then Laurent turned around and asked, “Are you free tomorrow?”

 “Yeah,” said Damen, even though he had promised Kastor they’d have lunch together.

 Laurent nodded. “Good. Come over for dinner. I’ll make lasagna.”

 “Sure,” said Damen, now smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

 Laurent smiled too. “See you,” he said, before he stepped through the doors, into the crowd.

 Damen watched him go, his heart settled and his smile only widening.

[abarbaricyalp]

A classic, there was only one bed!

I'm just now realizing there was no ship name here. My brain just auto-filled SamBucky

I also realized, setting up the document, that I combined the 'only one bed' trope with the 'omg they were roommates' vine in my brain

(Always taking prompts)

Read on AO3

The Grief of Down

“Mr. Wils-- Captain Wil-- Mr. … Captain America,” a frazzled concierge greeted before Sam’s eyes had even adjusted to the light in the hotel lobby.

“Mr. Captain,” Bucky scoffed under his breath at Sam’s side. “That’s a new one.”

Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s ribs.

“There’s been a mistake, Captain,” the concierge said. “We didn’t realize Mr… Sergeant Barnes would be attending with you. We don’t have any more rooms.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said with an easy smile, trying to calm the man down. “He can stay in my room.” He held out his hand and the concierge shook it slowly.

“No, I’m afraid, we didn’t put you in a full suite. It’s just a one-bed room.”

And Sam and Bucky both waited probably too long to respond. Sam was never sure how to approach a subject like that with total strangers. Of all the jarring things he expected from the unfortunate fame of being Captain America, people believing they knew everything about him, when they really didn’t, wasn’t one of those things he could get used to.

“Well, weapons of mass destruction don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Bucky said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Key?”

“Oh my God?” Sam breathed disbelievingly and elbowed his ribs again. “Can you behave?”

The concierge looked like he was about to pass out. “Of course. I’m just so sorry we couldn’t make accommodations. All of the suites were booked by other participants of the conference months ago. I tried to find the best room I could,” he explained absently, too quickly for Sam to try to keep up with. He looked around the foyer as the other man scrambled behind the desk to check him in. Bucky leaned his shoulder against Sam’s back and Sam tracked his eyeline to a table of pastries set out before shrugging him off.

“We literally ate, like, two hours ago,” he said.

“We stopped at a McDonalds and they didn’t even have Sprite. I need a sugar hit.”

“I think that’s biologically impossible for you.”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m a super soldier I can’t want things for myself?” Bucky asked, more facetious than Sam thought could fit into a single voice.

“You’re the worst.”

“Mr. America-- I mean. Mr. Wilson, here’s your keycard and an extra for Mr. Barnes.” The man’s face was so red, Sam started to feel bad for him. “There should be an itinerary of events in your room. If you need anything, call down and let us know. We’re working with the conference organizers and can reach out to them for you as well.”

Bucky reached out for the keys and tapped them on the desk twice before heading to the elevators without waiting to see if Sam was coming or not. Sam shot an apologetic look at the concierge and then followed after Bucky.

“You’re a real asshole, y’know,” he said as the doors opened and they stepped inside the elevator.

“I’m a tired asshole and I’ve been thinking about this bed since you woke me up this morning,” Bucky answered. He dropped his bag by his feet and shook out his arm like the metal could get cramps.

“I don’t know what you’re tired for. I drove most of the way.”

“I’m tired from worrying about you driving.”

Sam snorted. “I’m a much better driver than you.”

“You had to take a break halfway here,” Bucky said. And Sam knew it was bait, but he couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that came from his chest.

“Oh, I had to take a break halfway here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I distinctly remember crossing into Texas, getting through all those pine trees and then you stopping the car on the side of the road.”

Sam backed Bucky into the corner of the elevator. “Is that how you remember it, Barnes?” he asked.

“Why don’t you tell me your version of events, Wilson?” Bucky purred, looking exactly like a cat in the cream as he let Sam crowd him against the wall.

“I remember you begging me to pull over and practically flipping into the backseat. I remember you bein’ half naked before I even got back there. I remember you trying to knock out the window when you wanted us flipped over so you could blow me.”

“I don’t recall any of that,” Bucky said saccharinely, hands going to Sam’s hips to pull him closer. “Remind me again what, exactly, we did.”

Sam rolled his eyes, let his lips graze Bucky’s cheekbone and then stepped back in time for the elevator to ding on their floor. “Maybe later, Barnes,” he teased and grabbed Bucky’s bag before walking out the door. He shot an easy grin at a woman in the hallway, gave a kid a high five, apologized to both for Bucky sulking up behind him.

“Sometimes I hate how good you are at this,” Bucky grumbled behind him as Sam took the keycard from him. He rested his cheek on the back of Sam’s shoulder while Sam fought with the door. It took three tries before it finally swung open, which was enough time for Bucky to have closed his eyes and already started daydreaming. He was not pleased when Sam stepped away, but it was quickly remedied by the sight of the bathroom. He stepped inside, looking at the sleek, granite countertops, the deep sink, the wide showerhead over a huge bathtub.

“I think we could both fit in this tub together, Sammy,” he called.

The thought sent a thrill through Sam’s traitorous body. As much as he wanted to focus on being Captain America and the speech he had to give, more than any of that, he wanted to curl up in the big bed in the middle of the room and let Bucky get back to what they’d been doing four hours ago. He wanted to relax in a giant bathtub while Bucky drew nonsense patterns in the soap on his back. He wanted to check into a hotel and not have to explain that it was no issue that he and Bucky would share a room or even a bed.

Although, one time, it had ended with them pushing two queen sized beds together and then checking out very, very late.

“I can’t imagine what the suites in this place look like if this is just a one-bed room,” Bucky said, appearing in the bedroom portion of the room.

“Probably just means they have a kitchen and couch,” Sam said. He held out his arm and Bucky grinned, took his hand and let Sam pull him close.

“You got any nerves you need me to work out of you?” Bucky asked, dragging his hands down Sam’s back until he got to his waistband and could start to pull his shirt free.

“A speech is a speech,” Sam said. “More worried about babysitting you in public,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the nuisance,” Bucky agreed and finished pulling Sam’s shirt off before making quick work of his own. “But I’m a hot one, so…”

Sam laughed and pushed Bucky back onto a bed that had more than enough room to share. “I think you were trying to recreate our escapades from the road,” he said, climbing over Bucky’s hips until he could press his body along Bucky’s, mouth finding Bucky’s neck, his collarbones, his shoulder.

Just for now, he could be a man in a nice hotel room with his partner and nothing else.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, loud enough from the bed that Sam heard him over the shower and sink running. He leaned out the bathroom door, one hand curled around the towel at his waist, the other holding a toothbrush in his mouth.

“Whmm?” he asked.

Bucky, still delightfully, distractedly, naked and tangled in the sheets, held up his tablet. “We’re the front page of every celebrity gossip tabloid this morning.”

Sam’s stomach turned over but then Bucky shifted and exposed more of his thigh and the worries flew out of Sam’s mind. He turned and spit toothpaste into the sink. “What for?”

“Captain America and sidekick Bucky Barnes were seen checking into a conference hotel late yesterday afternoon. Sources at the hotel say that while they split a room, there was only one bed,” Bucky read.

“Oh my God,” Sam replied blandly. “There was only one bed.”

Bucky snorted and then continued. “Speculation has run amuck in recent months about the relationship between Wilson and Barnes, especially when they’re between saving the world and chose to lay low along the Gulf Coast. Together.”

“It’s not our fault that no one can put two and two together. You think AJ and Cass are ever not talking about their uncles?” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, but no one’s taking the word of a ten year old as gospel. Or asking him in the first place.”

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. He finished rinsing out his mouth and came back to the bed, curling around Bucky’s side and kissing his jaw. “Come on. We can think about saying something later. Right now, why don’t you come get in the shower with me?” he suggested, running his hand down Bucky’s chest and kissing his shoulder.

“Or,” Bucky said and smoothed his hand over the bedspread. “You could stay here with me. Make the most use outta something that’s causing us a whole lotta grief,” he countered. And wasn’t that a tempting idea. “Come on, it’s not like we’re payin’ for the water. The shower’ll be there when we’re done.”

Bucky pulled Sam down into that big bed and Sam couldn’t be happier to be sharing it right then.

[votederpycausemufins]

This one’s short but it exists at the very least. Just had a busy few days and I’m exhausted but also wanted to write. So now we have this

scattered au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and pinging @helleborusangel as always because I can :3

“Alright! That’s going to complete contraption number one! Whack a Melon!” Zedaph said after writing the name on a sign. The sheep hybrid had set up a bit of a base in a clearing of the jungle he had spawned in. When he couldn’t contact anyone, his immediate thought was he could probably rig something up with redstone to send messages.

With that idea in mind, Zed dug down to get the redstone he needed. He also got some diamonds followed by obsidian so he could get into the nether for quartz. As he was finishing that up, he ran out of melons in his inventory, so he had to farm more. With that, he started thinking about a way to make a farm, and so when he finally got some quartz, instead of working on something for communication, he just made the melon contraption.

“Now… what was I doing again?” Zedaph asked himself, taking some of the melons that came out from the contraption courtesy of the parrot he had led in there. “Ah right! Communications! Oh but I’m all out of quartz! Guess I’ll have to go back to the nether.”

He started to go back to his nether portal, but then noticed his pickaxe’s durability was low. He could use his diamond one, but with everything going on, he had left it in a chest down where he was mining. So Zed trotted back down to his mining area and started looking through the chests. But no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find it.

Reluctantly, he just made himself another iron pickaxe, making his way back up the surface and into the nether. He would get more diamonds later. He’d have plenty of time once his contraption was done.

~~~~~

Tango stared at the two pickaxes he held, one in each hand. He knows he only crafted one. He’s absolutely sure of that. He had gathered enough diamonds to make it and some armor, but he hadn’t bothered to make a second pickaxe. So where did he get it?

Tango put both of them in a chest in his small base. The entire thing was made out of stone even though he was surrounded by trees. Or at least, he had been. He had noticed it a bit after the sun suddenly appeared in the sky when he was finishing up for the night before resting. In his shock and joy at something working right, he had suddenly set some nearby wood on fire.

Thinking back, Tango couldn’t think of it happening much before, though he had spawned near a lava lake in the jungle, so his flames and fire from the lava could have gotten mixed up. Still, it was definitely worse now, but he at least had a good way to cook food whenever a stray animal came by.

He was also trying to gather two sheep or cows for breeding as he was growing wheat for bread in replacement of meat. It wasn’t the best source of food, but it was like the whole jungle had been emptied of its melons. A few oak trees were here and there for him to get apples from, but that wasn’t guaranteed.

Tango had also tried going outside the jungle for better resources, but after getting hurt, he wasn’t healing and couldn’t get far with the jungle itself letting a good number of mobs spawn. So now his only chance was to hope a zombie dropped a carrot or potato, or somehow find at least one melon seed.

~~~~~

Zedaph came back through his portal, munching on more melons. They weren’t the best food, but at least he had plenty. Since he wasn’t sure what to do for food, he had just taken any melon he saw, filling his inventory with the fruit. Maybe he could go looking for something else, like chickens or sheep or something to get for food.

Pulling his tools away, Zed started exploring more of the surrounding jungle. For the most part, there were just leaves, wood and vines, but sometimes he could spot a parrot. “Hello? Any chickens out there? I’ve got some seeds and I’ve already got a parrot. Hmm, he doesn’t have a name yet though. Maybe he’s an Andy. Oh yeah! I’ve also got wheat for any cows or sheep. I’ve just-”

Zed reached into his pockets to switch the seeds out for wheat, only to find he had just a single piece left. It was pretty odd, because he knew he had at least six when he started looking. Or was it less than that? Anyway, it was at the very least more than two when he set off. Six or three, because he had thought about making bread, right?

As Zed thought more, he didn’t really notice the fact that he was eating the last piece of wheat he had, not until it was fully gone and his hand was left empty. “What? Why, I think I’ve got a wheat stealer around here! Something really likes wheat, but it’s probably some sort of animal, so maybe I just need to find it and lead it back to my base. Yeah, that should help!”

~~~~~

Tango’s back in his mines when he finds a cave he hasn’t explored yet. Normally, he would just be cautious and explore, or even block it up with everything that was going on. But instead, it was all lit up. For a moment, he’s trying to think if he had just forgotten about the place, but then he also thought about his mysterious second pickaxe. This isn’t just his mine, at least, not anymore. Someone else was close enough that they claimed this place as well.

Immediately Tango was rushing back up to his base. Signs usually weren’t flammable enough for him to worry about, so crafting those could be helpful, and he definitely had wood to spare. He crafted up a few signs and then memorized his base’s coordinates before going back down. He wrote down that he had been there and the exact coordinates of his base.

Tango had no clue when the other hermit would return to mining, or if they were even working in that area anymore. As a precaution, he put more signs up with the same messages, but he still couldn’t help but worry they wouldn’t see the signs. Though right now, that was really his only hope if he didn’t want to be stuck in the jungle for who knows how long.

.

.

Etho was worried he wasn’t respawning anymore when all he saw was darkness. He didn’t know what was up or down or left or right. For all he knew, there was nothing. And then a comm smacked into his face.

It wasn’t his comm, he could still feel it in his pocket. He turned it on long enough to see it belonged to Bdubs. But the owner was nowhere in sight. Etho started to look around for him, but all around was just inky darkness. And then it was pain.

He had reached the part of the void that you couldn’t live in, that tore you apart. No matter how strong you were, the void could kill you, and it was killing Etho.

If it weren’t for the lack of messages of Bdubs dying, Etho would think he were stuck here. But why was his comm here if he wasn’t? As his vision was going dark, Etho had the answer. The void could kill anything, but apparently it wasn’t killing Bdubs. Who knew how far down he was at this point.

On his last hearts, Etho threw the comm down as fast as he could, hoping just maybe that extra speed would help it get to its owner. It was probably already at terminal velocity, but maybe it would work.

And then Etho died again, the void stealing the last of his health: and when he next woke up, he was in a desert, all alone. It was still early in the day at that point, but already the light sand was reflecting the heat back at him. He couldn’t even see any dead bushes for sticks, just cactus. Also lots of sand, the biome large enough that there was only desert around him as far as he could see.

Pulling out his comm, Etho was still grateful for the coordinates they gave. He was pretty far from spawn, but the desert, while hot, was mostly smooth terrain. He could go straight towards spawn with little trouble and hopefully get out of the desert before long. So, with little else to do, he startled walking.

Eventually Etho finally saw some sort of life other than cactus. Well, previous life, as it was some dead bushes which he broke for sticks. Still, it was better than nothing. But that begged the question of why there weren’t any to begin with. That likely would only happen if someone broke them.

Then Etho realized something. He died and suddenly appeared at Ren’s side. Killed and he was in the void finding Bdub’s comm. torn apart by the void, and now he was in a desert someone obviously had been. He wasn’t showing up in completely random places, he was showing up near the other hermits.

Etho stopped walking and immediately started digging at the sand with his hands. He was upset that the sticks were going to be lost when someone else probably needed them, but right now dying was actually more important. He used the sand to build up high below his feet, getting into the air, and then he jumped down, the amount of damage killing him.

As he had been falling, he made mental notes. Ren at a ravine, Bdubs in the void, someone in the desert, and now-

Etho opened his eyes and was met with Impulse’s face. He tried to breath in from shock from nearly being nose to nose with him, but instead of air, his lungs were filled with water. Etho knew he was already running out of time, so he quickly grabbed Impulse’s shoulders and shook him.

Impulse seemed to wake up a little, opening his eyes. It made Etho panic for a second as his normally brown eyes were red, and the ninja was reminded of Ren, but he wasn’t attacked. Instead, Impulse touched him, as if to make sure he was real.

As Etho’s lungs burned more, Impulse died first to drowning, which normally he wouldn’t like, but that meant neither of them were cursed. He started punching at a block, putting all his strength into it. Impulse hesitated for a moment, then joined Etho in his task.

Etho kept punching at the block until he finally died, but he did what he needed to. The cracks were large enough and Impulse still had enough time that even after Etho had died, Impulse was able to finish breaking the block. It didn’t open up to an exit, but Impulse stared at the sliver of air at the top of the space. Etho wasn’t back, but that didn’t matter. As Impulse died again, he started at the next block. That missing block might still be filled with water, but it was also hope.

[lunapwrites]

A Rarity

Someone in the HPFC discord got me thinking about Remus gardening while wearing baby Teddy and talking to him like a little adult (because he so would) and I had to write some domestic in-universe fluff. I wouldn't call this spoilers, exactly, but it's a HC I play with sometimes that has no bearing on where my plot is actually heading lol. Scene below the cut.

"I reckon we're in for a tidy yield this time; what do you think, Ted?"

The baby cooed brightly from his sling, his hair turning as blue as the sky above their heads. Fine days like this were a rarity in the Valleys, and Remus was determined to make the most of it. He tied his hair back, dropping to his knees in the soft soil of the garden with his son tucked snugly into his chest.

"See this? First tomato of the season. Une tomate. Your mam will be thrilled," Remus said dryly, showing the offending fruit to the baby. The little boy's hair had turned a matching shade of red. "Oh! Well done." He pressed a kiss to the baby's hair, smiling widely. "Your mam actually hates tomatoes, she does. But that's alright because I need them for things she does like. Like... I dunno, pizza, or bolognese or something. Couple of curries." He snorted. "Actually, there's a lot of things she likes that use them. Bit silly. But maybe you'll like them. I hope you'll at least try them when you're older. Should try everything at least once."

Remus hummed as he checked the remaining fruits on the vine; the rest were still green.

"Needs some more time, this one. See?" He tilted his body slightly so Teddy could see the unripe tomatoes, blinking up at them with newly green eyes. His eyes. The baby wrinkled his nose, his hair turning the same bright green as the tomato his gaze was fixed on.

"You're getting quite good at this, aren't you now then?" He resisted the urge to tap his son's nose; his hands were already covered in dirt. "Next thing you know you'll be morphing your face into Harry's and mocking him at the table."

They worked like that for some time, Remus keeping up a steady stream of easy chatter, informing his son of all the best ways to grow a variety of vegetables and herbs and showing off each in turn as he harvested. Naming them in three languages. Teddy, for his part, watched with slightly unfocused but still-curious eyes, his hair colour shifting with each new treasure his father showed him.

"We've got some nice leeks coming in now then. That's called cennin in Welsh, but the French call it poireau. Bit stuffy, if you ask me." He pulled one of the onions out of the ground, gently shaking the excess soil off the roots. Teddy giggled, shaking his fists, his hair turning a dark brown. "You like that, eh?"

Remus looked down at the basket of vegetables and herbs, taking inventory and making a mental note to check with Molly if she needed any asparagus. The bloody plant had been producing more than any sane man knew what to do with, and he was running out of ideas.

"Might be I could make that risotto again. Seemed like it was a hit — oh! Careful there," he admonished softly, pulling Teddy's tiny hands away from the fennel greens he'd been attempting to stuff into his mouth. Thus foiled, the baby shoved a tiny fist into his mouth instead. Remus sighed.

"I should probably be discouraging this, but as you're already fond of chewing on your own toes I'm going to let you have this one."

The air was split suddenly by the sound of clanging metal, flapping wings, and vicious swearing; Remus looked up just in time to see Sirius running out of the garage like his hair was on fire, pursued by a large and angry goose.

"Looks like someone got on the wrong side of Moriarty again," Remus whispered conspiratorially to his son. Teddy stared, wide-eyed, his hair a shock of yellow so bright it almost hurt to look at him.

Almost.

Remus hauled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his jeans and making sure Teddy hadn't grabbed anything else untoward (he had not).

"Suppose we ought to go rescue him. Your mam will have something to say if she comes home and I've let Pads get eaten by the goose again. Do you remember what we call Moriarty in Welsh?" Teddy made a sort of grunty noise; Remus nodded seriously. "Good effort. He's called gwydd. Or oie, in French."

A long string of expletives echoed out over the yard as Moriarty continued his furious pursuit.

"Don't call him that, though," Remus warned. "Your mam and Pads will have to hide for laughing, and I'll be stuck having to pretend to be cross with you."

Between the five of them — Harry and Ginny included — it was almost a guarantee that Teddy's first word would be something particularly foul. Remus sighed, making his way towards the house, whistling sharply.

As expected, Moriarty came waddling over, acting as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Remus pulled a bit of lettuce out of the basket, offering it to the little menace who plucked it cheerfully from his fingers and toddled off, clearly satisfied.

"Don't tell Pads I'm encouraging him," he stage-whispered, and Teddy cooed up at him cheerfully. Moriarty was the only one of their animals that wasn't enamoured with Sirius, having decided that Remus was His Person almost out of spite. It gave Sirius something to do, though, spending hours figuring out how to ward a goose out of his workshop through trial and error. The error, in particular, granted Remus and Dora both endless hours of entertainment.

He stopped at the door, looking out over the garden, the garage where old Baglan's tractor was being repaired. The field where the sheep were grazing. Inside, Sirius was at the kitchen sink, muttering darkly as he washed the motor oil from his hands with the soap that Dora had brought home last week, the one that smelled of oranges and seemed to be working a treat. Dora was due home in an hour, likely full of stories about the newest batch of recruits she was "training." Remus would have called it hazing, but she insisted it was a part of the education that Mad-Eye had given her, and she was intent on keeping his legacy alive. Harry would be working late, bouncing between working at the shop with the twins and trying to find a premises for his own venture — which he still wouldn't divulge any details of to anyone, insisting that the surprise would be worth it. Remus suspected that it was music-related, given Harry's sudden interest in where he'd sourced his record collection.

They'd all worried that after all those years of chaos — of war — they would struggle to settle down. But as always, life surprised them. Things were peaceful, yes, but certainly never boring.

Life was good.

[sanders-sides-fic]

Since I don’t care

Prompt: “Six words. That’s all you get. Six words to explain to me why you’re here, what you want, why I should spare you. Because not many that find their way to me get to leave.” ( - source: TikTok; @mcrebecky )

Ships: Dukexiety (background), Roceit

Warnings: past betrayal, life threatening sickness 

“I do not like this.”

The forest around them was dark, but in the little clearance they sat in you could make out a few stars at least. It didn’t do much to soothe them, especially since this forest was by no accounts a normal one. No one dared to go in here, and if they wouldn’t go this deep. It was dangerous, nearly suicidal. But then again, what other choice did they have, really?

“Hello? Did you even hear what I said?”

That didn’t help much, though. No matter if they had to be here, the place still seemed to ooze magic, reminding their little party of just how dangerous this was. Then again, who could ever forget this? After all, these were the woods every parent warned their child of before it could even talk. These were the woods that belonged to them. These were the woods that housed the castle people barely dared to even hint about - which they, stupidly and desperately, were trying to find.

“Roman! I am warning you, don’t just ignore me! You were the one to drag me along in the first place.”

A small fire was lit between the three of them. It should have been four. Or, rather, they shouldn’t have been here at all. But as he stared into the flickering heat of red flames, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Because the very possibility to have a fire burning between them as one of them slept, in the middle of the night, when they didn’t know who or what might see them because of it, wasn’t something he would even be able to fathom if they weren’t in this situation.

“If you don’t stop ignoring me, I will curse you to speak backwards right now.”

With a sigh, Roman rose his eyes to meet Logan’s. The sorcerer looked annoyed, but Roman knew him well enough to spot the hint of nervousness behind those crystal clear eyes. “Look”, he said calmly, “I will stop ignoring you, if you will stop spitting nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Roman, look around you! We are in mortal danger here, about to bring ourselves in even greater danger. And he even said not to come here and search for them. He told us not to, no matter what.” And Logan had a point. He always had. But Roman couldn’t admit that, could he? Giving up now would be the greatest betrayal he could ever commit against the snarky assassin wasting away at home. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

So he put on his best smile, for what else was his talent for acting good for, and answered: “Oh, don’t worry so much. You almost sound like him! It’ll work out in the end. I’m sure.”

Logan only rose an eyebrow. It was obvious that the sorcerer didn’t believe the fighter. So, after a few more futile moments, Roman dropped the smile. “I know, alright?”, he admitted softly, “But what else should we do? We can’t just abandon him. He’d do the same for us.”

For a few moments, everything was silent. Then Logan spoke up again, all his prior emotion gone from his voice and barely above a whisper: “We don’t even have a plan.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t need one. Or rather, no matter what plan you have, it’ll fail anyways.”

Both of them turned to the strange voice, suddenly tense as they realized they weren’t alone anymore. In front of them there was a demon, obsidian skin shining ominously in the fire’s light. His eyes were hidden behind a vail, but his white lips were pulled up into a smirk, as he leisurely drank from a silver cup. Roman glanced at his companion. Who was this leather-wearing man? And was that dragon leather? If so, they were probably screwed. It was forbidden to wear this for demons that didn’t belong to the highest ranks, after all. But all Logan gave in answer was a soft head shake. So even Logan couldn’t tell who this was? Well, damn.

Roman looked back at the man cautiously. He couldn’t afford to look at him any other way. “And who may you be?”, he asked, keeping the shaking out of his voice for the most part.

The man smiled again. “Oh, me? I’m just the messenger, babes. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Oh, yes, alright. Not foreboding and ominous at all. Roman pressed his lips together tightly. This couldn’t be good. But he couldn’t just fight the man either. If he could resist Logan’s skill there was no way all of them could take him combined, not without their assassin. They needed their assassin. And that was the very reason they were here at all, wasn’t it? They couldn’t allow themselves to be taken away without finding any of them.

So he eyed the demon once again. “I think we’ll have to decline the offer. We don’t really have time to-”

“That won’t do. My lord isn’t giving you a choice in the matter, and you shouldn’t complain about it either. Since you so rudely invaded our territory without invitation.”, the man interrupted them, smile gone now. Then it returned, but a lot darker then before. Roman shivered just seeing it. “But I can see why you wouldn’t want to go with a stranger. Very well then, let me introduce myself after all: I am Remy Nightview, vice-commander of his majesty’s army, here under order of the Demon Lord himself and currently the one who has taken your cute little druid over there hostage.”

…

What?

Roman glanced over to Patton. But he looked fine? What was the demon - Remy, was it? - talking about?! His gaze shifted to Logan, who had a serious look on his face. Oh, Roman didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit.

“You cursed him.”, Logan stated, making the demon grin and Roman’s heart drop. Okay, that he liked even less.

“I did. Nothing too bad, though. He’s just sleeping, you know? A very peaceful sleep, and if you don’t come with me it’ll be a very long sleep too. Longer than a human’s body can take, I would guess.”

How did this keep getting worse?!

“I see. So if we go with you without resisting, you will wake him up? That is the requirement, correct?”

The demon chuckled lightly. “Indeed. You are smart, for a human. Yes, I will wake him up if you come quietly, but only after you return here. And I won’t guarantee for whatever happens to any of you afterwards. That’s entirely up to his majesty - and therefor up to you, I guess.”

Logan looked at Roman, and Roman could read two things out of that look in this eyes: First of all, he was reminded by Logan that he’d told him so. Secondly, he was begging Roman to say yes. He was telling him that they didn’t have a choice, not if they didn’t want to loose another one of their friends and watch him waste away.

So Roman nodded to him, before turning back to Remy. “Alright”, he said, “we’ll cooperate.”

The demon’s teeth glinted in the warm light of the fire as he smirked. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that, babe. This’ll be so much more interesting, after all.” But Roman didn’t have any time to think about what the demon meant, because with just the snap of his fingers later, the two of them stumbled in front of a door. Forced teleportation? Oh, great. Really, that was just wonderful! Now they had no way to return on their own, not even Logan’s magic. Without knowing where exactly they were, not even the genius of the magic academy would be able to invoke a relocation spell, much less teleportation. So they were stuck.

Roman looked around their new location. They were in front of a door in the middle of a hallway. A fancy hallway. With a background like Roman’s he had seen his fair share of fancy hallways, but none of them even came close to this one. It made even him feel small, dirty and insignificant. Logan seemed entrapped with the door more than the rest of their surroundings, Roman noticed. When he raised an eyebrow in question, mirroring the magician’s habit, he received a small sigh. “I think we’re supposed to knock. He’s… The demon king is probably on the other side of this door. ‘Remy’ did say that it was him who sent for us, right?”

Oh. Okay, yeah. That made sense. Roman nodded slowly. “So will you…?”

“No. I can’t. It’s a magic door, if I touch it my magic will be sealed for quite some time. We wouldn’t be able to make it back in time, even if we were to succeed. And… I’m sorry to even ask this, but Roman, would you maybe do it?”

Roman gulped. He hated the feeling of his magic being sealed. But Logan was right, and this was neither the time nor place to be picky about such things. So Roman raised a hand, took a deep breath and knocked. The moment he did, he almost chocked on thin air. He’d known it’d seal the magic rooted deep within his soul, but he hadn’t known that it would feel so imposing and tight. Normally it would feel like a too tight cage in his chest. But this? This felt like snakes, coiling around the core of magic within his soul and making it sleep with poisonous fangs.

Was this what a demon’s magic felt like when it was forcibly and maliciously invoked on you? Roman shuddered.

“You may enter, esteemed trespassers” The voice that answered was smooth and melodic, and it made Roman think of honey dripping from a fae’s flower when the magic creature tried to lure a name from your lips. Trust it and it’s a trap and I want it did the different parts of him whisper. His magic felt numb, so he wasn’t sure if there was a charm on the voice, like a succubus’s voice, or if it was just a genetic thing, like a nymph’s voice.

Logan and Roman exchanged a glance, before Roman pushed the black door open and they entered. It was dark in the room, but it was undeniably a throne room. A golden carped went from the door to a throne of black diamonds and yellow citrin. Lagre windows showcased a cliff to their side, with nothing but an endless sea of trees underneath it. Pillars of black marble were adorned by snakes made of gold like vines curling around the Corinth columns in the home he’d abandoned. Ambers as big as a fist and smooth like raindrops - most of which had even trapped insects, seashells or the like within them - glittered in the dim light against obsidian of the fireplace. The only hint of color Roman could catch that wasn’t black or some form of gold or yellow were the gems that littered the ceiling akin to stars. He knew them to be alexandrite, amethyst and emerald. All of them were green or purple - and Roman swallowed, knowing why those colors were allowed to stay here.

The figure waiting on them stood in front of the throne elegantly, hands covered with yellow satin gloves, a suit of black silk with golden buttons and a heavy cape draped over one of his shoulders. How many years would it take for such precise and beautiful embroidery to be done in the human realm, even if they would have only wanted to reach the same amount of elegance as this cape’s hemline?

The man himself sported an enticing smile on his lips. One half of his face looked human, a brown eye fixed on the duo with cold superiority. The other half resembled a dragon from the Eastern continents, a snake-like dragon with scales glinting somewhere between gold and green. The golden snake eye was just as cold as the human one, but it spoke of terror rather than the different status.

To sum it up: The man was gorgeous, elegant and overall breathtaking.

With fluent motions, the man turned to them, coming closer by just a few steps. “Congratulations on catching my attention, humans. You’ve made it thus far.” It was the same voice as earlier, but with the face to match its effect on Roman increased tenfold. “Now, then, as a reward I shall give you… Six words. Yes, that seems fair. Six words. That’s all you get. Six words to explain to me why you’re here, what you want, why I should spare you. Because not many that find their way to me get to leave.” He chuckled, raising six of his long fingers. “Although that are six more words than most mortals would ever even be able to dream of getting, naturally.”

That startled Roman out of his trance. Right. Not the time to be entranced by this man. He paled as they registered. Could they explain it in that few words? Was that possible? “What?! But-”

Two fingers were lowered. “Four words.” The man whispered loudly. Damnit! That wasn’t fair, though, was it? He hadn’t even used them for that.

“That-” Roman started anew, just to fall silent when another finger was lowered.

“Three…”

Roman gritted his teeth. Fine. Fine! He would comprise the complex issue that had made them risk everything in just three words. Why not? Here was hoping the demon lord - for who else could this possibly be? - would understand and approve. At least enough to hear them out until the end… “Virgil is sick.”

All the fingers were gone now, and so was his smile. His face had become cold enough to match his eyes. It sent shivers down Roman’s spine. “How interesting-” The demon lord turned around and walked back to his throne, sitting down in a graceful manner. “-that you would think I care about such things. Say, did he not tell you how he betrayed me? Why should I be concerned with a traitor’s fate?”

No. No! That couldn’t be his answer. It couldn’t! This was Virgil’s last chance. “Please! He’s dyeing. He used up all his magic and can’t fight the sickness off at all. It’s the blue fever, there’s no cure any human could provide! You’re his only family, only your magic can save him! Please, you’re his only chance.”

“That…” The demon lord’s smirk returned, though there was a pain in his eyes that Roman would have missed had he not known the same feeling as well as he did. “… was a lot more than the six words I granted you.”

It was Logan who stepped up this time. “I understand you cannot care as demon lord, but your highness, can’t you care as a father either?”

“As a father? As a father I know that Virgil didn’t want you to come here. As a father I know he’d loathe my engagement more than the current situation. As a father, I know that Virgil wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let a sickness that curses and corrupts a demon’s soul fester long enough for you to come here if he was willing to pay the consequences of involving me. As a father, I know that this was his choice and that he was the one to break the ties with me.” The demon turned towards one of the windows, where the sun started to rise just enough to color the sky red. “Go now. Remy will set your friend free as soon as you’re out of this castle. I have neither responsibility nor intention to help you, so be glad you will leave at all.”

He didn’t know what made him do it. Maybe it was the pain hidden in that magnificent voice. Maybe it was the slight trembling of his hands. Maybe it was just the sheer desperation at the thought of loosing his friend forever. But the next thing Roman knew was that he cried out: “And what if I make a deal with you?”

“Roman?!” Oh. And the alarmed Logan would probably curse his stupid ass for saying that as well.

Multicolored eyes meet Roman’s once more, effectively shutting up all those thoughts. “A deal? You? With me? Are you offering your soul in exchange for his health, Roman?” Roman flinched at the way the demon lord hissed his name. It was like an insult almost. So he knew that he’d been Remus’ brother. Well, he had expected that. They were identical twins, after all.

He took a deep breath. “I’m offering all that I am capable of giving. Whatever you want, as long as it’s in my power to give.” Virgil would hate him for that, wouldn’t he? Well, he’d do it anyways.

“Roman, you can’t honestly-” Logan was shut up with a glare from the demon lord. Roman, on the other hand, gave him a sad smile. There was no way he’d back down. Not when this could possibly safe their assassin.

The demon hummed in thought. “A few years ago, there were intruders in my realm too. A bunch of soldiers from the West. I killed them all, every last knight. But a child caught my attention. Just like you now, he was invited here to state his business. A royal, it turned out, who was chased away by his own family due to reasons out of his control. He begged me to keep him safe until he could defend himself. The bargain was much like yours as well. And I took pity on him, so I accepted. I took him in, provided him with whatever he needed, taught him how to fight myself, about magic and magical creatures, about the darker sides of history humans would never dare to speak out loud about. I taught him strategy, showed him how to take revenge. I took that human and I let him into my home, and I treated him as one of my own.

“Then, he found out about his brother. The first prince, having abdicated and run away to search for him, back turned against the kingdom that forsake the other twin, was searching for him after all these years. The human child had turned from an adolescent to almost an adult by the time. So I allowed him to go, and I helped him prepare for departure. But a few days before he was set to go, both he and my son disappeared without a trace. We searched everywhere for them. One week. That was how long it took to find out that he had betrayed me, that both of them had eloped and ran away together. My son and the human I had taken in, two people whom I trusted and whose relationship I had been nothing but supportive about until then.

“And I waited. I let them be, even though I could have captured them by all rights. But I didn’t. I waited for them to come home, to visit, to reach out, give me an explanation, tell me how and what they were doing. But even though they knew that I could not reach out first, all I ever got was rumors from intruders or gossip from my subordinates. Even still, I made sure no demon would ever lay a hand on any of you for as long as my son was with you. For years I kept waiting and protecting them in hopes that they may change their minds and sent even a single word. And then he fell ill. Came to death’s door. Yet he would rather die than see me again?” The demon lord smiled at them in a way that put all the times Roman had shivered in fear to shame. “I must say, imagining their faces as they realize that the precious prince that started all the times they turned their back on me has become nothing more than an empty, mindless shell they have to protect from getting possessed, that is dependent on them in everything… Now, that is quite the thought.” The smirk became even more terrifying and sinister. “But that wouldn’t do at all. That wouldn’t be anything special, neither for your insolence nor their daring betrayal. It’s such a common thing, just another deal with the devil. No, instead, I want something else. I want this.” And he pointed at Roman himself.

“Me?” Roman asked, surprised and a little unsure. What did that even mean?

But the demon nodded. “Indeed. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, last family for last family. You will become mine, former prince Roman, you will stay by my side for the rest of your days, and you will never set foot out of this castle ever again.”

“You want me to… become your slave?” Roman clarified. That sounded honestly terrifying, but those were surprisingly good conditions. Looks like he would stay himself and not be tortured. Though it was too early to say that he wouldn’t pay literal hell in his friends’ stead through another form of personal hell.

But the demon lord laughed. “No, dear, not at all. I want you to become mine. Your brother took what was left of my family and built his own with it. So I shall do the same.”

What? What did that even mean? Roman was so confused right now, his head was spinning. Built a family? He couldn’t possibly mean… But that was the only explanation. And judging from Logan’s shocked face…

“I accept those conditions. So we have a deal?” Oh. His voice came out stronger than expected.

“No… Roman, no, that… Don’t do that.”

The demon smirked, ignoring Logan and raising a hand. Once more he could feel the magic slither into his soul. This time, though, it did something else. He couldn’t quite describe it, but the snake of magic didn’t coil around him or sink its teeth into him. Instead, it nestled comfortably into his soul and turned into… something else?

He could feel the familiar weight of a crown appear on his head. But this crown grew from metal vines that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get off himself. “Gold and rubies for my lovely husband, huh?” The demon chuckled. With another wave of the hand, the ambers turned to rubies and the black diamonds turned into red ones. Even half of the snakes were replaced by golden vines, just like the ones he’d imagined when they had first entered the room.

“Well then, sorcerer… Bring Virgil here. Remus as well, I want him to see for himself. We must make haste if we want to save him. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to replenish his magic energy? This is the magic forest of the demons, after all. It shouldn’t be impossible.” The demon lord tossed Logan a black purse. “The diamond inside contains my magic. The three of you will be able to travel back here through a portal. Your other friend will be in Remy’s care until then, so he’ll be able to return with you.”

Logan caught the bundle but didn’t move. He was so pale… Roman was about to reassure him, but the demon lord was faster. “Do not worry for Roman, human. You are aware of demonkind and know my son and brother-in-law, no? So you should know that we demons are not only possessive of our lovers-” His gaze shifted to Roman once more. “-but also love to spoil them. I assure you, he’ll be living more than content. One does not need political power or dangerous experiences to be happy.”

Logan still hesitated, glancing at Roman. But when Roman gave him a nod, he sighed and bowed. “I’ll hold you to your word then, you highness.”

The demon lord smiled. “Yes. You can come visit to check the truth of that statement any time, friends included. And, please, those close to me don’t call me by my title. To you and all my husband’s friends… I am Janus.”

Taglist: @gattonero17 @alias290

[scattered-shadows]

You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: So, I am kind of late. Like hours late. But! To make up for it, I bring you a more wholesome chapter of TOD (Because Twilight Zone does have very wholesome episodes, just not often haha) to take away from the emotional anguish presented by the previous chapters. Happy (Belated) Birthday Seonghwa!!

XVI. Last Two Standing (Seonghwa)

High noon. 

An empty desolate town, a shell of what was once a bustling city. The abandoned buildings were either halfway torn down or had vines and weeds creeping into the concrete. The same could be said for its streets that had bricks and debris scattered all over. It was a city that remained abandoned for what seemed like years.

There was a reason for the abandonment. It was once plagued by a devastating war that reached all corners of the world, but this place was lucky in the sense that people had already fled before it was brought to ruins. Almost everyone. 

A young woman stepped out from the piles of debris in the corner, her uniform that was once a visible navy blue had gotten shabby, patches of dust at the hem of her skirt and minor rips and tears on everywhere else. Her face was weathered, showing signs of having actively fought in the front lines, her AR-15 rifle slung over her shoulder. She had arrived after having hidden out at a fort that ultimately went low on supplies. She was a commanding officer of her unit, and arguably the only one left standing in the deserted remnants of a metropolis. 

She walked down the empty street, looking around at the displays of abandoned shops and residential areas. There was hardly a working car in sight, as some had either been looted for engines or simply crushed from blocks of cement that came from blown up establishments. It was deafeningly quiet, and she knew better than to let her guard down. The war might have been over, but she knew it was impossible that she would be the only one left. She knew very well she would not be alone. 

The more she walked down the street, the more she started to feel her body ask for nourishment. She had lived off hunting and roasting animals on fire before she arrived, and maybe now, she could get a taste of what properly prepared food was like. Whatever it tasted like, that is. She could hardly remember what comfort meant, what home-cooked food tasted. War was all she knew. 

She skidded to a halt when she came across an abandoned diner. Taking her rifle off her sling and poised to shoot, she made a quick scan of the area for any sound. She still had a good three rounds of ammunition left. Once she was sure there was no soul inside, she stepped in, immediately making a beeline to the kitchens to see if there was the source of nourishment she was hoping for. 

The presence of tinned food made her sigh in relief and she immediately took down a can of tomatoes, a can of peaches, and canned chicken. She felt like she was going to feast like a queen with this much food in front of her. She looked closely at the canned chicken, checking for its expiration date, nodding to herself when the date was a little far from today. 

She was set to open the can when she heard footsteps padding towards the room she was in. It was a man, also in uniform that looked just as tattered as hers. He had jet-black hair that had already fallen over his eyes from how long it seemed to have gotten. But it didn’t distract from the fact that he was handsome. But while he wasalso wearing a uniform and had his own rifle slung over his shoulder, she knew it was a different uniform. The uniform of the enemy. The uniform of the North. 

Putting the can down, she charged at him, the two of them getting into a tussle on the floor until he got the upper hand, his strength overtaking hers as he knocked her out unconscious. He got back on his feet, noticing the cans that she had set out on the table, especially the canned chicken she was supposed to eat. He opened the tin, devouring its contents as he glanced over at the woman’s unconscious figure every now and then. 

Having had his fill of the chicken, he stepped out, looking at the city before him. He hadn’t stepped in this part of the country before and thus everything looked so foreign to him, even as he could understand everything albeit in a slightly different way. He was also a commander of his unit, and from what he was seeing, he was also the last surviving member of his unit. Before he could take another step, the newspaper at his feet caught his eye, particularly the headline. 

EVACUATE! City Left Abandoned After Invasion

He picked up the newspaper, staring at the headline. There was no one left. It was just him, and the woman he knocked out in the kitchen. He dropped the paper and went back inside seeing the woman still unconscious. He took an empty can and filled it with water from the tap, splashing some of it on her face. 

She began to stir, eyes opening until she saw him standing several feet away from her. She got up, aiming her rifle at him. If it didn’t work, she had her knife. 

“There’s no reason to fight anymore,” He spoke. “We’re the last ones left. There’s no more war, no more armies, no more weapons of mass destruction apart from what we’re carrying. The only difference now is our clothes. Nothing more than that.” 

She stared at him, not quite believing what he said. 

“You can have the rest of that food,” He gestured to the cans on the table. She saw that the canned chicken was significantly finished. “If you understand me, you will put down that rifle of yours, as I already have mine.” 

She didn’t let up, and he could only sigh, figuring that they were best left to their own respective devices. As soon as he left the room, she put her rifle down to eat but not while glancing at the door every now and then in case he returned. She kept thinking about what he said. 

As soon as she finished, she quickly washed her hands and left, looking around for a sign of the man. She stopped when she saw him inside the barbershop and she stepped inside, watching him shave with the razors that were left behind. He stopped when he saw her and tossed the bar of soap towards her, and she caught it in time. “Wash your face,” He mumbled. 

She was still watching him as she approached the sink, seeing how she also needed cleaning up, she washed her face quickly, scrubbing away the dust and smoke. It was only then that she realized how the war seemed to have changed the way she looked, how the dark shadows under her eyes had become more prominent. She wiped her face with the towel he handed her while he watched her with a kind of curiosity he hadn’t had in a while. It was probably a long while since he last stood in the same place as a woman without them running away or cowering in fear simply because he was amongst those who were fighting. 

The two of them stepped out of the shop, once again taking in their dilapidated and abandoned surroundings. It made them think about what the place must have been before the war. Busy, noisy, but more importantly, full of life. As of that moment, they were the only lives. The silence between them was becoming less and less deafening, and he figured it was because she was slowly warming up to what he said earlier. They were no longer in a war, they were no longer fighting, much less see the need to keep fighting. 

They stopped in front of the abandoned movie theater, some of the letters on the marquee having fallen off, the rest of the letters hinting at what movie was being shown before the evacuation. 

A Fine Romance: A Story of Love in War 

How timely, he thought, catching her gaze the moment he glanced at her. Even with the slight changes, their language remained the same. As they approached the entrance, they saw a pile of skeletons, the remains of the soldiers that fought either with them or against them. As if on command, the two of them suddenly aimed their rifles at each other.

The two of them were prepared to shoot, but the man put his rifle down, reminding himself that there was no longer the need to do it. If they were bent on destroying each other, they probably would’ve done it from the beginning. She would’ve been dead in that diner. He walked away, slinging his rifle again over his shoulder. She quickly followed him, observing his every move. Even after cleaning up, she noticed how handsome he was. 

She stopped in front of a dress shop, seeing a white dress on display that had long sleeves and embellishments on the hems and sleeves. It was probably a dress that would’ve been perfect for a dance, or maybe a wedding, she thought. “Beautiful,” She muttered. 

He glanced at her and then back at the white outfit. Without another word, he broke through the glass, taking the dress off from the mannequin, and handed it to her. “Wear it,” He said. “It’s yours now.” 

She slowly took the dress from him, unable to hide the astonishment on her face at the feel of the fabric. Even when it was a little dirty in some places, it was still as soft and as beautiful. She went up into what looked like an office to change, hoping that it would fit her. It had been a while since she last wore something nice. 

As she was about to take off the jacket, she saw the posters plastered on the walls, reading what was on each one. It was all messages of the war, messages empowering those who read them to enlist, to fight, to shoot the enemy. She rushed out, rifle back in her hands as she aimed it at him again, but this time, she pulled the trigger. Once, twice, only to miss. 

He stared at her incredulously. How could she still think he was dangerous? Even after giving her the dress she had her eye on? Even after having told her that there was no need to fight, that he only sought peace. He sighed, walking away before she could shoot him any more. 

She watched him walk off, seeing him drop his rifle to the ground before leaving. They were better off apart. She looked back at the dress on the table and took it with her as she left the office, thinking to go back to the barber shop that had a slightly more comfortable chair. It was already getting dark and she needed someplace to camp in for the night, at least for the night. 

~ 

Morning had come, and the man stepped out of the room he stayed in, the room that was on the second floor of what was an old clothing store. It was there that he found clothes that suited him this time, finally rid of the military garb he had been wearing for as long as he could remember. He changed into the tuxedo he saw on the mannequin, slightly fitted in some places but he made it fit. As he stepped out, climbing down the staircase to look at the view of the run-down metropolis, he saw two cans of peaches on the railing. 

He scanned the empty street, immediately catching the gaze of a familiar pair of eyes from behind the truck. It was her. He had given up trying to convince her that there was nothing left anymore. “Take your war elsewhere, there’s no war here, there’s no enemy for you to fight here,” He called out. 

Before he could turn back, he saw her emerge from behind the truck, and his expression softened when he saw that she was wearing the dress. He took the cans and climbed further down to meet her in the middle of the street. He handed her one can. “Beautiful,” He said. A small smile appeared on her lips. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, her voice soft.

“I’m Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa,” He replied. 

“Ara, Kim Ara,” She said. 

“Beautiful,” It was his turn to smile.

[succulentsunrise]

Where the Fire Lilies Grow

Content: Light description of burn wounds and blood

We get to the title of the fic! I've had this chapter on my mind for forever 😁🥰

Tag list: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare, @lyranova, @ckjwnnbc

< Previous | Next >

Chapter 11: The Cavern of Fire Lilies

"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell." Joan Crawford

There was a certain solace in the fact that Icree had appeared. She listened intently as Tani explained the circumstances of her own disappearance and the situation with Mereoleona. Icree’s deep green eyes looked sharp and focused, and she crouched over the Vermillion noble, tense and wary. The inspection was quicker than Tani had expected.

“Death traps,” Icree muttered quietly. “I don’t think it is natural.”

Tani felt a little shiver move through her back. She knew the wounds were serious, but it sounded like her friend believed them to be lethally so. If Mereoleona wasn’t as good a mage as she was, she might have --

“I don’t know why they were triggered yet,” Tani said hastily, cutting her thoughts short.

The image of the burnt body flashed across her mind - the hazy eyes closing for the last time - and a heaviness settled in her heart.

“Fire,” Icree said simply. “Fire would be logical.”

That green, sharp gaze turned to her. Tani’s heart beat painfully in her chest, and she avoided looking Icree in the eyes. She needed to focus, but unspoken emotions intruded on her. She pushed them aside, yet couldn’t help but wonder - why did those words fill her with such sadness?

“You think the plants reacted to her magic?”

“Yes. A heat source like this--and there was that rumble. Plants would find a way to...” Icree sighed, seemingly looking for words.

“To protect themselves from fire?”

“Yes. Someone came here before us.”

Tani frowned for a moment, trying to understand Icree’s point. Someone came here before?

“Mereoleona might have been the fire mage we were looking for,” she suggested.

Icree nodded, rising up.

“As I said, I want to examine the plants for the possibility of creating an antitoxin,” Tani continued. “I don’t think it is wise to go right now - my mana’s quite depleted - but perhaps after a rest.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Icree agreed once more, looking around them.

They were still in the corridor, which was only lit dimly by Tani’s lantern. To their left was the entrance to the tower, and in front of them the intersection. Tani could only assume Icree was trying to figure out the safest place to camp out.

“Where is Luka?” Tani asked gingerly, already guessing the answer.

Predictably, Icree shook her head a little.

“Luka was worried about you, you know,” she said with a scolding tone. “We can’t find you, and - Luka was gone.”

Even if Tani registered a small error in Icree’s sentence structure, she put it down as a mistake. It was likely that Icree had simply changed the sentence midway.

“He disappeared from you as well?” she asked, trying to make sense of the story.

“Yes.”

“And you have no clue how?”

“No.”

“How did you find me?”

A small smile appeared on Icree’s lips. There was no small amount of gentle satisfaction in it, as she pulled light blue strips of cloth from her pocket. Tani, instead, felt conflicted: while she was glad her plan had worked, there was now no point to it - Icree had removed any chance of Luka finding them! Similarly, it would be harder to find their way in the maze afterwards.

“I wish you had left them on the thickets,” Tani said with a strained voice, trying to mitigate her frustration.

She was tired by the amount of magic she had used already, the difficulties they had faced, and now this small setback. Icree’s smile was apologetic.

“I didn’t think,” she simply said.

“It’s--it’s alright. Luka can probably sense us,” Tani quickly waved it off, though Icree’s attitude didn’t help her annoyance with it.

“There’s not really anywhere else they could’ve gone.”

Tani nodded tiredly. She felt rather petty as her thoughts once more picked up an insignificant mistake in Icree’s sentence - they instead of he - and resolved to rest for now. She told as much to her friend, and settled to lie down near Mereoleona. It was better to sleep her irritation away. She was certain Icree could sense it too. As soon as Tani closed her eyelids, she felt a new wave of tiredness hit her. She had walked for a good while in the corridor, and then used a lot of magic. A rest felt like a good idea, especially since Icree could now watch over both her and Mereoleona. Slowly, she found a good position for herself, and felt dreams take over. The dim light of her lamp slowly vanished as she stopped providing it with magic. Darkness took over.

It was in darkness that Tani found herself roused from her light sleep. She looked around with tired eyes, not sure where she was or what time it was. Slowly, sensations and memories began reaching her brain again: she was in the dungeon, on the mossy ground. She shot up, her heart starting to pump faster again in fear. Why was it dark? Where was everyone? With a quick movement, Tani lit up the dim light to her lantern, watching her surroundings be illuminated. Mereoleona was still hunched next to her, eyes closed and her breathing neutral. By the other wall of the corridor, opposite to Tani and Mereoleona, sat Icree. Her red hair had a few leaves stuck to it, her eyes wide in alarm. Her arm flung towards Tani, as if as a reflex - and then fell down, as she took a deep breath. Icree rose her fingers over her lips, making a shushing motion, and glancing towards the corridor. Tani followed her gaze, pricking up her ears. The small shuffle on her side came from Mereoleona, who seemed to have woken up as well. It didn’t seem like she was able to move properly yet, but there was recognition in her blue eyes. She seemed to be much less groggy than before.

“Someone was here,” Icree said quietly, her gaze locked to the left.

Tani put her hand on the hilt of her sword. She didn’t want to unsheathe it just yet, but it always made her feel safer to have it by her. She dimmed further the light from her lantern.

“In the tower?” Tani whispered.

Icree simply nodded, her gaze staying on Mereoleona, sharp and attentive.

“Maybe it’s Luka?” Tani suggested.

It would be weird for him to not have noticed them, but perhaps he was injured. He could potentially go into the plants, and if they would also paralyze him - if they reacted to something else than fire - that would be disastrous. As it was right now, healing the paralysis was way too experimental.

“Perhaps,” Icree agreed slowly. “You go.”

Tani looked at her in surprise. It was an unusual command. Even though Luka usually did the reconnaissance, if he wasn’t available, Icree took it upon herself to do so. Her abilities were better suited to scouting than Tani’s.

“The plants,” Icree said almost impatiently.

Tani looked at her with a frown. Plants? Perhaps she thought Tani had a better chance dealing with the plants or hiding through them. It was hard to say. Her behaviour was still strange - Icree was tense, but her gaze stayed on the barely moving figure of Mereoleona. If Tani didn’t know any better, she’d say that Icree was more wary of the paralyzed woman than the mysterious someone. It made her uneasy.

“If I go alone, we might be separated again,” she reasoned quietly.

“It would be logical to make--to make plants,” Icree said, her voice faltering again.

“To make plants?” Tani repeated, her brows still furrowed. “We could make a rope from plants. Or do you mean antitoxin?”

Icree nodded when she mentioned the rope. Tani still felt a bit uneasy, but she created a long and durable vine of ivy.

“You’ll have to hold this side taut. If it goes slack, I’ll run back.”

Icree took one end of the ivy and held it tight, once more only nodding. Her gaze flickered towards the tower, as if she had heard something again. Tani stopped and listened as well. She couldn’t hear anything. Still, it was clear Icree wanted her to go. Part of her wanted to stay, to figure out what was going on. Part of her wished to find Luka, so she could know what had happened. Reluctantly, Tani picked up her lantern and dimmed it further. It barely illuminated her surroundings now.

“Where is your lantern?” she asked from Icree, glancing around.

“It’s here,” her friend answered, reaching behind herself and starting a small light.

It was a dim light, like Tani’s, most likely to keep them hidden. Tani nodded, and began to creep towards the tower. It was funny how the mind didn’t pay attention to some things. She hadn’t realized until now that she hadn’t seen Icree’s bag or lantern with her, but clearly they were there. She had just seen the lantern, after all.

Tani approached the tower carefully, holding the ivy vine in one hand and her lantern in the other. She could not see any light inside of the structure or in the cavern beyond. Still, she could not take any chances. She stayed still for a moment, listening for footsteps or movement. When she could hear none, Tani carefully brought her lantern closer, illuminating the walls of the tower. The trickiest part was the stairs. She would not be able to see if someone stood there until she would have entered inside the tower itself. Cold sweat rose to her forehead as suspense settled to the bottom of her stomach. Slowly, she rose her gaze to the stairs snaking on the right side of the building. Tani could see nothing there but darkness. Even the shape of the stairs was indecipherable to her, so dim was her light. She wished she had a third hand to pull out her sword. Tani extinguished her lantern slowly. She listened for any movement. She held in her breath and stood still, almost like she had been paralyzed herself. Hearing nothing for a while, Tani took a step forward. A small rock moved under her boot, grinding against the earth. Immediately, she stopped, tense and ready for trouble. Silence followed again. She stayed completely still for a moment, before taking a few more steps, each not as quiet as she would have wished. If she had remembered that the path was so rocky, she would have softened the soles of her boots with something - moss, perhaps. With a quiet, quick inhale, Tani entered the tower, immediately turning to the right, towards the stairs. She could still see barely anything. Her eyes were not well adjusted to the almost unnatural darkness of the dungeon. Her breathing was too loud. Her movements were too loud. If there was someone here, they’d know. Tani quickly lit up her lantern once more, ready for action. Her heart jumped to her throat and then - then she saw the empty structure. There was no figure standing on the stairs, or even further up. Nervously, she kept glancing through the small room she was in, seeing no one. Her eyes settled onto the hole, which she knew to lead to the cavern where she had found Mereoleona. It was the only direction anyone could have gone. Tani took a careful step towards it, steeling herself. At least this time she couldn’t see any smoke or fumes inside. She kept the lantern on this time, slowly walking up to the opening and lighting up the inside. From where Tani was standing, she could see the sand-coloured walls with the white, lantern-like flowers, and the blackened ground. There was no one inside. What she hadn’t noticed before was that the cavern clearly continued forward. There was a small, cramped passage that led somewhere else.

Tani was less eager about stepping into the cavern. The flowers didn’t seem to be reacting so far to her presence. Their almost papery blooms were closed, like the flowers outside of the dungeon. Indeed - they seemed to be the same flowers altogether. Tani adjusted the ivy vine in her hand, and then put that hand with its sleeve over her mouth and nose. She stepped one leg through the hole, quickly looking at every corner of the cavern. Though its walls were uneven, there didn’t seem to be hidden alcoves in it. Tani tried to take a quiet, deep breath and calm her nerves. She needed to be ready, but not rash. The tension was making her nervous. She continued towards the passage she had seen, keeping her eye on the flowers on the cavern walls. So far, they remained passive. The ivy vine stayed tight, as Tani kept magically increasing its length as she walked. The passage in front of her was narrow, but not too narrow for her to squeeze past. The problem was the plants: flowers and moss had also overtaken the walls here, and she’d have to touch them to move past. She hesitated for a brief moment. She could turn back and they could come here together later - or she could continue to pursue, and possibly find that water source she had sensed as well. Tani touched the wall gently, letting her magic persuade the plants to move. They did so without resistance, their roots extending and moving with her magic. She whispered to them a small thank you before squeezing safely through the passage.

Before Tani opened a much wider cavern. Her lantern alone wasn’t enough to fully illuminate it. The rough walls were similarly covered in moss, as far as she could see, but there were no flowers there. As she began to walk into the cavern, she could hear her steps echo - and then suddenly stop. Even the ground had moss growing on it, creating a soft surface that muffled the echo. There was a small glint in the darkness. Tani’s gaze immediately was drawn to it, her wonder at the cavern turning back to wariness. She raised her lantern to see better. The glint turned out to be water: a small pond created by underground rivers. Tani immediately headed its way, kneeling down next to it. She increased the light of her lantern to properly light up the area around her. She still couldn’t see or hear anyone, so she set up to examine the water itself. It looked surprisingly clear. Still, she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be contaminated. Much of the vegetation outside had been poisonous, but the plants were surviving. It might be alright to drink it if it was just a day. A doubt nagged her. Could they really risk further poisonings? No - she would know how to treat that kind of poisoning. She had done it before. They only needed to find Luka anymore, and then they could retreat. This water would have to do. As Tani rose to investigate the cavern more, she realized that the ivy vine in her hand had gone slack. There was no longer a pull from it. For a second, Tani was frozen still, her fear of losing her patient and friend paralyzing her. Then she began sprinting towards the passage, stumbling and pushing herself through its narrow mouth, and almost flying across the smaller cavern and the tower. It was such a short distance, but every step felt like it took too long. She leaped towards the corridor, no longer dark, but engulfed in flames. The loud crackling of fire matched the hunger with which it spread among the thickets. On the ground lay a figure with bright blue eyes, staring right into her. There was such raw rage in them that it stopped Tani in her tracks, sending her stumbling. She managed to keep her balance only barely, dropping the lantern to the ground. Mereoleona’s whole body was enveloped in flames, and Tani had no idea if they were protecting or hurting her. She could see no sign of Icree anywhere. She opened her mouth to shout - to ask - but before she could do anything, a clawed paw of fire swiped at her. It grabbed onto her right arm tightly, and then yanked. Tani’s balance gave in - she hadn’t expected it and the burning pain caught her off-guard. She was dragged along the ground for a few moments, before finding herself close to Mereoleona. Another fiery paw rose.

“It’s me, it’s me,” Tani shouted desperately, trying to raise her arms to protect herself.

The anger in Mereoleona’s eyes didn’t quell at all. The paw struck Tani straight in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Her body doubled over - she took a rasping breath, trying to breathe again - and then quickly straightened her back. Her heart was pumping fast, her muscles tense and quivering. Breathing hurt. Breathing was hard. For a moment, she couldn’t react at all. All she recognized was the pain she was in - and the confusion. Then her arm was yanked again and she was thrown at the opposite side of the corridor, into the thorny thicket. She screamed in pain as she felt the thorns pierce her skin and break off. She barely managed to soften her fall with her arms. Her still healing shoulder let out a cracking sound. Tani gasped for breath once more, water rising to her eyes. She glanced at Mereoleona. Though the woman’s body barely moved, the fiery paws rising above her were clear in their intent: they were going to continue attacking. Seeing them get ready, Tani moved quickly. Her grimoire flew open as strong roots began embracing Mereoleona’s burning body, forcibly sealing her inside of it. She could see the bark set on fire in an instant, but it gave her time to get up and draw a few deep breaths. Her instincts were fighting with each other: part of her wanted to flee, to lick her wounds somewhere - the other knew she had to somehow incapacitate Mereoleona without causing more damage. Still, she didn’t have enough time to think. Choking was too dangerous. Knocking Mereoleona unconscious was far too short-lived and risky. She had to somehow cause her opponent to be too disorientated to control her magic - but how?

The bark of the ginkgo tree peeled off in charred chunks, as Mereoleona’s body emerged from it as well. The fiery paws had to soften her fall onto the ground, giving Tani more time to prepare. Enough time to raise her mana skin. If only Icree was still here - where had she gone, anyway? - Tani could’ve simply supported her in this fight. It was just the two of them now: a small knight and a tired monster. If only she could stop Mereoleona’s mana somehow. Her opponent was weakened already, Tani could easily see that. There was blood near Mereoleona. Blood? Whose blood?

“Stop!” Tani pleaded desperately, dodging another fiery fist. “I’m not your enemy!”

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say. A faster fist managed to punch Tani in the shoulder, almost making her lose her balance. Instead, she used it to move further away from Mereoleona, cringing in pain. She was on the verge of simply crying. Clumsily, she took a few more steps backwards, retreating behind a turn. She continued moving, fortunately, for the thicket behind her soon erupted in flames. Tani began running, her fleeing instinct taking over. Her feet led her to the only path she knew: the tower. It’s dark structure welcomed her as she ran inside and hid in a corner. It was only there that she realized she had dropped her lantern. She was burnt, bleeding and terrified - and alone. Tani could still hear the crackling of fire in the corridor and an almost inhuman scream. Her face twisted in sorrow. She couldn’t stop herself from crying. The only thing she could do was try to muffle the sobs. She made a decision: if she would hear Mereoleona come closer, she would run to the cavern, to the passage, and beyond. Tani wiped away some of the tears burning her eyes and brushed away some of the snot, and began checking her own body. Parts of her right arm and stomach had burnt rather badly, and she was bleeding slightly from somewhere. She tried to remove any thorns that had stuck to her, but she couldn’t be sure none were left in her back. After making sure that it was mostly alright, Tani summoned her gingko roots to wrap around herself and heal her. She stayed still, sniffling and trying to calm down. Her thoughts were erratic, jumping between the pain, the frustration and the feeling of being betrayed. Why did Mereoleona attack her? Why hurt her? None of it made sense. Why was everyone gone again? The thoughts only added to the tears, and Tani hugged herself within the ginkgo roots. She stayed there for several minutes, listening to the crackling of fire die down. She expected Mereoleona to appear at any moment, but no one came. Slowly, silence fell to the maze again. Tani couldn’t be sure if Mereoleona hadn’t disappeared like Icree. She knew she would have to check. The only way to get answers was to hope that she wouldn’t be attacked again. She didn’t want to. She was already hurt enough - tired enough. She began crying again, finding it hard to stop. She laid down, burying her face in her hands and staying there. The violent sobs that rocked her body caused her pain. There was no good way to lie down, no good way to cry. Everything hurt.

Eventually Tani rose to her feet. Her whole body felt heavy. She wanted to close her puffy eyes and slip away from this nightmare. Instead, she carefully moved to the entrance of the tower, peeking out slightly. She could see no fire anymore, nor hear anything. Nervousness began rising her heart rate again, but she knew she needed to check on Mereoleona. No one else would. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t be attacked again. Maybe. Tani’s eyes had somewhat gotten used to the darkness - enough to notice a crumpled figure on the ground near the tower. Mereoleona seemed to have crawled forward at some point and collapsed there. Tani stared at the figure, frozen still. She had no clue if Mereoleona was awake or not, or whether it was a trap to lure her closer. Slowly, she began to approach the unmoving figure. Every step was more uncertain, but it didn’t seem to stir Mereoleona. She reached the slumped figure rather easily. Tani stood there, next to her, uncertain what was the next step. Her head felt so numb and heavy. If she left Mereoleona here, something would probably happen to the woman. No - she needed to take her with. To the pond. There would be water. There’d be enough space to run away from Mereoleona, if she decided to still attack. Swallowing down her tears and the need to cry more, Tani gently tested touching the figure before her. As there was still no reaction, she picked up Mereoleona, supporting the woman on both of her shoulders. Her left one protested heavily, forcing Tani to shift some of the weight more on her right side. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d only have to get to the pond. Shakily, Tani began to walk towards the cavern. It was still harder to see inside of it, but she found the entrance easily enough. Finding the passage was harder. She had to put Mereoleona down to the ground for a while and feel through the cracks of the cavern walls. Eventually her fingers found the opening - or the only place that she could fathom to be it. From the corner of her eye, Tani suddenly saw light. She whipped around to see a slight aura of fire around Mereoleona - those blue eyes trying to see in the dark, barely open and unable to see - or perhaps attacking again?

For a moment, time stopped for Tani.

White sepals of the flowers began opening. She took a step towards Mereoleona, sprinting to protect. She could see those blue eyes widen as realization dawned upon them. Another step, another flower opening. Tani grabbed Mereoleona and pulled her upwards, towards herself. Fire crackled in the air, meeting with the green fumes. The roots of the ginkgo tree began growing, twisting, wrapping -

An explosion rang loud and clear.

Tani and Mereoleona were thrown back by it, barely protected by Tani’s spell and their mana skins. Tani coughed, then put her hand on her mouth. The fumes. She had inhaled them as well. She extended her arm - the skin on it like paper, peeling off - towards the passage. She created another root to wrap around herself and Mereoleona, to pull them out. To Tani’s surprise, instead of being dragged on the floor, they almost glided. Mereoleona was helping with her flames to carry them. The narrowness of the passage still caused them some trouble, creating more nicks and scratches on them both. They emerged to the larger cavern coughing and wheezing, trying to breathe the fresh air. Tani continued dragging them further away, to the bed of moss near the pond. It was only there that the pain of the explosion caught up with her. She was already burnt from before, but even the thick bark had not been enough to withstand the violent burst of fire. The fumes seemed to interact with fire magic in a volatile way. Next to her, Mereoleona laid burnt and pale, her gaze surprisingly sharp. She was looking at Tani, her gaze confused, apologetic - hurt. Tani reached for the other woman, her whole body aching and vision dimming. She fought to stay awake, enough to heal the already burnt person in front of her. A hand weakly clasped hers.

“I’ll heal you now,” Tani coughed out. “I don’t have much mana left, but..”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She continued to look at Mereoleona’s eyes and concentrated on her spell. She could feel her grimoire fly out and then - something else happened. Mereoleona began a spell as well. Her grimoire flipped open to an empty page. Around them both, mana erupted in a gentle glow, a playful dance of orange and green. Where they touched, flowers began to grow on the dark green moss: orange, lily-like flowers with green stems. A momentous healing power surged through Tani, much more powerful than her own. Her gaze met Mereoleona’s again, who looked as surprised as her.

All around them, flowers bloomed. Both of their grimoires finished writing on blank pages.

[Combo Spell: The Bloom of Fire Lilies]

[owlheartt]

Lost

I stare over the expanse. There is nothing behind me to go back to, and the only path is forward. I turn around anyways. It is blacker and blanker than the foggy ocean ahead of me. It looks like something is draining it away, like something is building it’s own black hole. A black hole... I heard they could swallow anything, and nothing could come back out. That you would be sucked in, and time would slow, and then you’d be gone. Where would that leave me? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad in the black hole. If it is sucking everything up, then maybe I’d find what I had left behind. That might be worse. Do I really want to return? Even if I do, I have no proof that the world I’d lived in would still be there. The space behind me isn’t even a black hole. It is just an expanse.

I turn forward again. Uncertainty claims me, I had always been cautious of the unknown. It’s why I had never left before. But now I have to. Or do I? Am I really willing to enter the pitch black behind me? I make my choice, but I don’t commit. I just can’t. I take a wobbly step forward, and the dreadfully damp mist climbs up my leg like a creeping vine, grabbing me and trying to drag me in. It’s just water, and can’t really do anything. My fear is causing me to hallucinate. I take another step forward, this close to being against my own will. Despite how much my mind rebels against it, I feel beckoned by the fog. It’s almost welcoming.

One last look behind me, and in I walk. 

It’s just fog. Fog and fog and fog. It feels invasive and crowding and all too empty all at the same time. I lose track of where I came from, where I was originally going. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know. I should’ve stayed behind. I should’ve let myself be swallowed by the darkness. I should’ve I should’ve I should’ve. Would it have helped? Would it be any better? Or would I be just as lost. Just as scared. Just as empty? Questions swirl. What if’s repeat themselves. My mind is tumultuous and boiling and unceasingly terrified and the fog just. Keeps. Coming. 

I stop. I collapse. I cry. What more can I do? I don’t even know where I am.

I guess an hour has passed by the time I get up. My face is wet with the fog and tears, and my eyes are puffy. I feel so defeated, but I need to keep going. If I lay here forever, there’s no chance things will get better. But it would be easier, so much easier, to stay here. To never get up. In the distance, I hear a flute. A mysterious flute. It plays a taunting song, one that beckons me forward. One that won’t stop, one that’s quiet but steady and strong. I hum along with it.

Then I get up and follow it.

The fog clings to me, my clothes are soaked. Then I break through. Beyond the fog -and surrounded by it- lies a forest. A jungle? Does it matter? What’s the difference? The flute is louder stronger, but I can’t find a source in the dew covered foliage. But there’s people. Other people. They look just as lost as me. I can see that others have been crying too. Some look blank. Some look cautious. Everyone’s alone. No one’s speaking. I can hear running water and insects and hidden birds and out of the subtle background noise there’s the flute. As clear and strong as ever. Someone’s humming along. Maybe two people. I stopped humming a bit ago, but maybe I should join back in. It still sounds just as pleasant. 

So I do, and I let the warm mystery of the song embrace me.

I wander around the area, up some rocks that could’ve been a staircase, across an almost cleared path, and find a ledge that overlooks everyone. It has a railroad. A rusty old railroad that looks like it fits, squirreled away and spiraling into the brush. Into the mist that’s still holding on. Plants circle it, like it’s a secret that they’re meant to keep. Something’s meant to happen. 

So I wait.

Everyone else does too. The very air itself seems to be holding it’s breath, and we all wait. Some keep humming. I do. The more people join in, the louder the flute itself gets. But it’s perfect. The best sound. An owl joins in, singing it’s song along with the rest of us. The insects create a background symphony. Some people sway back and forth, as if they want to dance along. Even with all the noise, the place still seems quiet. Not eerily, even though it probably should be, but soothingly. Like it’s trying to keep the song a lullaby. I see a few children in the crowd. They’re dancing and humming along. Some are getting sleepy. Eyes begin to turn to me, and soon I realize I’m the only one on the ledge. I’m the only one by the tracks. If it didn’t feel so forbidden to speak, I might’ve asked them what I was supposed to do. Because it does feel like I need to do something. I have some sort of responsibility, standing by the tracks. 

I open my mouth. I sing louder.

It’s like a beckoning, and out of the bizarre lullaby quiet comes a train whistle. No one looks quite sure what they’re doing, but everyone begins to climb the rock stairs. Everyone comes to join me. I quiet back down to a hum. My mysterious duty is done. A train comes down the rusty tracks. Despite the foliage on the train that otherwise would’ve proclaimed it unsafe, it just looked like it was a part of this magic land. A stranger steps forward. They walk cautiously towards the train’s door. As they near it, the door slides open, and they walk aboard. Everyone follows. I do too.

Once everyone’s on, the train whisks us all away. To a place I know I’ll love more than everything before. To somewhere better. To somewhere magical. 

And I know, above all else, that I’ll never go back again.

[queenofbaws]

DAI: In the Gardens

Characters: F!Hawke/Varric Tethras Rating: G Words: 2,303 Summary: Varric and Hawke slip away to the gardens of the Winter Palace once the Inquisitor saves the day and delivers a bracing speech to the Empress's guests. They're just part of the Inquisition's retinue, after all, so it's not like they have to stand around and shmooze with the fine people of Orlais. They plan to enjoy this newfound brand of peace and quiet to its very fullest...with each other, obviously. Author’s note: The second of three pieces I wrote for Hightown Funk! If you’d prefer to read on AO3, the link is in the source! ---

Seeing Hawke like that was strange.

It wasn’t because of the dress, even though he was sure the onlookers behind the gasps and fluttered fans that night probably would’ve thought as much. It made sense, of course—to the Empress’s guests, even to the Inquisition, she was a Champion, a valiant (if not unbelievably foolhardy) hero who belonged in only the finest and spikiest armor Kirkwall had to offer. To them, she was a character cut cleanly from the pages of a storybook, meant to be scuffed and bruised and spattered in a fine spray of blood, so he had to imagine that watching her glide across the marble floors of Halamshiral with her gloves fashionably high and her neckline scandalously low, her shoulders bare but every other curve hugged by rich velveteen and samite…well, that must’ve been something of a surprise for them.

To him, though, Hawke was Hawke. And Hawke, he knew, was nothing short of a chameleon. She’d gotten her start in Kirkwall as a smuggler, after all, and if there was anything a smuggler was expected to excel at (any smuggler worth their salt, at least), it was blending in. Over the years he’d seen her in all manner of outfits and getups, ranging from the mundane to the ridiculous, and somehow…almost as though by magic…there hadn’t been a single one she hadn’t seemed perfectly comfortable in. So it wasn’t the dress. If anything, that was a comfort, what with its deep reds and blacks and golden accents marking her as a Marcher even this far away from home.

No, no…the strangeness came from something else entirely.

“So,” Varric said breezily as he sat himself down on the bench nestled inside the garden’s alcove, tilting his head upward and narrowing his eyes as though exceptionally intrigued by the flowering vines woven through the terraces above them. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you all night. With all the excitement I guess it got away from me for a while there, but now that we have a moment to ourselves, I really must know…how’s it feel to spend your evening wearing a mask like an Orles—”

A gloved finger threatened to poke him directly between his eyes, its silverite tip glittering menacingly in the moonlight. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

He managed to stop himself from laughing outright, but there was no restraining his grin. “What? It’s an innocent question, Hawke.”

“If you value our friendship—”

“Hmm…”

“—or your face—”

“Eh.”

“—don’t even consider finishing that sentence.” With a huff clearly meant more for comedic effect than anything else, Hawke joined him on the bench, smoothing her skirt down behind her before sitting. “Here I was, thinking the Inquisitor was surrounding herself with only the wisest and most sagacious of advisors, and yet here you are, spouting off at the mouth to one of Thedas’s most infamous miscreants. Hardly seems wise or sagacious, if you ask me…” She’d plucked the mask from her face the moment they’d stepped out of the Winter Palace, and as they sat she took to idly spinning it by one of its eyeholes. “I can’t believe you’d think to ask me something so…so…offensive.”

Ah, there was no stopping his laughter that time. “You can take the mage out of Ferelden,” he sighed, stretching his arms out as best he could given the stiffness of his uniform, “But you can’t take the Ferelden out of the mage, now, can you?”

“Certainly not!” She pressed her free hand (the one not spinning her distressingly expensive mask like a juggler’s plate) to her chest in a pantomime of deep affront before she too gave into her laughter. “You know,” she sighed, readjusting herself on the bench such that she could relax more fully, setting her head against one of his tasseled shoulders, “I had truly hoped tonight wouldn’t turn into a reprise of Château Haine…but here we are all the same, our bits crammed into uncomfortable clothing and our mouths ruined by the taste of despair-ham.” Clucking her tongue, Hawke gave her head a shake, “I think we’re becoming predictable. Could that be? Perhaps it’s a sign of us getting on in years…we’re just doomed to repeat our glory days forever and ever until the Maker sees fit to call us home.”

“And how, pray tell, was tonight a reprise of Château Haine?” He craned his head as best he could to try and meet her gaze, “Were you fighting wyverns in the five minutes we were separated back there? I was wondering what all that racket was…”

She seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Dancing with Seeker Pentaghast was a bit like fighting a wyvern, honestly.” At that, Varric snorted aloud and Hawke couldn’t help but beam. “All the…lunging and the snapping when my hands got too close…”

“No one forced you to dance with her—I’m still not entirely sure she wanted you to dance with her!”

“Oh, come off it,” Hawke said with a dismissive wave, “Of course she did! She’s been all starry-eyed and bushy-tailed since I joined up, and—”

“That’s…okay, that’s not how I’d describe it, but if it’s what you want to believe, then hey, who am I to stop you.” Even through his laughter, he couldn’t say she was wrong; Cassandra certainly hadn’t turned down Hawke’s offer, that much was true, though how quickly she’d come to regret that decision was anyone’s guess. By the time the song had ended, the Seeker had been a flustered mess, the court had been titillated, and (most importantly of all) the Inquisitor had been granted enough of a distraction to disappear without notice. 

It had been, in a word, delightful.

And how had it all ended? Well, the day had been saved once more, though not by them…and for the first time in as long as either of them could remember, it was someone else left to pick the pieces up and apologize for the furniture that had been destroyed while they were free to enjoy the rest of the soirée however they pleased. The change was refreshing, to say the very least.

Hawke shifted a bit in her seat, using the opportunity to tuck herself closer against Varric’s side. When his arm found its way around her shoulders, the tips of his fingers brushing absently at the ridge of her collarbone, her smile took on a decidedly self-satisfied curve. “It was Château Haine all over again, though…maybe you weren’t paying attention.” It was her turn to crane her head back to meet his eyes. “Orlesians being Orlesian…playing their ridiculous Game and laughing when we don’t know the rules, the servants whispering about the subterfuge and sabotage going on behind the scenes juuust loud enough to be overheard…only this time, you’re the one wearing a uniform ugly enough to border on being morally reprehensible!”

“Ha ha ha. What biting wit the Champion has. You be careful how loud you say shit like that, Hawke—Ruffles might look all prim and proper, but I have the sneaking suspicion she’d consider those fighting words, and you know how much Antivans enjoy dueling.”

Their chuckling gave way to a contented, tired silence after a beat, nothing but the chirping of nighttime insects and the muted sound of music from the ballroom floating on the air. There was something to be said for that kind of quiet, that sense of exhausted peace. He hadn’t much cared for the opulence of the Winter Palace, but sitting there in the stillness of the night, Varric thought he could appreciate the gardens. The scent of flowers did wonders to mask the stench of the blood that had been spilled there tonight if nothing else, and as someone who’d lived his entire life in Kirkwall, he knew the importance of a good death-covering smell.

“I missed this.” Hawke sighed it more than she said it, and something in her voice made him turn again. She looked up at him when he did, her eyes jewel-bright behind the mask that she’d apparently slipped back on at some point during his woolgathering.

“Missed what?” Varric joked, “The chaos? The shouting?”

“Oh yes. You know me, I’m never comfortable unless someone is furiously shouting my name and waving a cudgel in my general direction.” Hawke nudged him with a smile and then angled herself so she could creep her fingers along the length of his uniform’s sash. “Mostly, though, I meant…” she paused walking her hand up and down his sash just long enough to gesture between the two of them. “This. You. Us…pfft, you know what I mean,” she laughed, and a moment later a bird answered from a nearby tree. “You’re the one who has a way with words, I only know how to make people explode with magic, so—”

He leaned in and kissed her before she could say anything else. Her lips were soft against his as she smiled into the kiss, familiar and welcoming and everything he’d been missing since that horrible morning she’d left Kirkwall before the sun had fully risen. The hand that had been tracing the bare skin of her shoulder moved upwards to gingerly tip her chin up…and then flicked her mask off once more, sending it clattering to the garden floor with a sound rendered perfectly unimportant by the soft laugh Hawke breathed out.

When the kiss ended (much too soon, in his humble opinion), they didn’t exactly break apart; he set his forehead against hers as his hand moved to cradle the back of her head, and there they simply remained for a moment, basking in the petal-sweet air of the Empress’s garden as countless lovers had no doubt basked before them.

“I missed it too.” Varric spoke as though worried he might interrupt the crickets chirping around them, his voice low enough to almost be mistaken for a breath. “This. You. Us,” he smiled, reaching with his other hand to bring hers to his mouth, punctuating each word with a brief kiss to her knuckles. “More than you know, Hawke.”

She hummed a little sound that somehow managed express both doubt and delight before leaning up to kiss him again. “‘More than you know,’ he says,” she joked after, speaking so her lips brushed his, “Talking like he’s the one who had to be dragged away from her…”

“Maybe he wasn’t dragged, but he’s sure had to put up with a lot of new and exciting idiots and a lot of new and exciting world-ending disasters without her,” he chuckled, “So maybe—just maybe—we cut him a little slack with his word choice, huh?”

Hawke heaved a sigh so dramatic that it was almost comical. “Only because you’re handsome,” she teased, tipping her head up to press her lips to the bridge of his nose before resuming her earlier slouch on the bench. “I—” Whatever she’d meant to say next was lost as the music from the palace suddenly swelled, still muffled and cottony with distance, but more than loud enough for them to hear it. “Oho! It seems the evening’s festivities have taken yet another turn!” She sat up straighter, beaming that wide, beautiful smile of hers as she made a grand show of holding her hand out to him. “Master Tethras,” she said in her best-worst Orlesian accent (the one that always managed to sound very much like Hubert), “Might I have zis dance?”

He took one look at her offered hand, the silverite tips of her gloves again glittering the light of the moon, then flicked his eyes up to hers. His answer was a simple, flat, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh thank the Maker!” Hawke said, her words coming out in a rush of a relieved sigh. She dropped her hand back down, using the leverage to lift her legs up onto the bench. “I was hoping you’d say that…honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d taken me up on it, my feet are killing me…” Without a shred of decorum, she draped her legs over his, crossing one ankle over the other so she could better gesture at the uneven soles of her boots. “Did you see one of my heels snapped off earlier? I’ve been forced to waddle ever since! Waddle, Varric. I shudder to think of how sore I’ll be tomorrow.”

“Well, how about this,” he laughed, his hands resting themselves on her legs, “As soon as this farce is over and we’re all safe and sound in whatever room they see fit to throw us in…” Slowly, playfully, he walked his fingers along her leg as she’d done with his sash before. “I’ll…help you out of your dress…”

“Ooh, how chivalrous!”

“…you can put something more comfortable on…”

“You know, now that you’re saying that, Varric, I’m not entirely sure I packed anything other than this dress. Hmm. A quandary.”

“…and then, since I’m so grateful you came along to help like this, I will gladly massage away any of your aches, Hawke.”

Her smirk was sharp as a sickle as she threw her head back and laughed, and again, Varric found himself thinking that seeing Hawke like that was strange. It wasn’t the dress, nor was it the mask on the ground, but it was strange nonetheless, and it was wonderful. Because somehow, in some way, seeing her like that made him realize that though they were very, very far from Kirkwall there in the garden of the Winter Palace, it was the closest to home he had felt in quite some time.