#How to Draw a Jet for Kids Easy Step by Step

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.  

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.  

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.  

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.  

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.  

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in. 

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.  

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.  

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.  

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him. 

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”  

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.  

“Guess there were better things to look at.” 

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.  

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.  

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.” 

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.  

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?” 

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.  

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.” 

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.” 

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.  

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.  

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.  

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.  

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.  

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.  

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.  

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.” 

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing. 

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.  

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.  

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.  

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation. 

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.  

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.  

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.  

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice. 

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.” 

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.  

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?” 

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”  

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.  

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.  

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.” 

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.   

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.  

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.” 

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.  

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.  

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”  

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.  

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.  

I did everything I could. 

Some things are outside of my control.  

It wasn’t my fault. 

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.  

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.  

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.” 

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.  

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface. 

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.  

Rollins was right.  

I could have saved them. 

I could have prevented all of it. 

It was my fault. 

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise. 

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!” 

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.  

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.  

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.  

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.  

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.  

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.  

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?” 

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!” 

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.  

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.  

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”  

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest. 

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam. 

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.  

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.  

*** 

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.  

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked. 

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.  

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.  

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.  

“He was right, though.” 

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?” 

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.  

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.” 

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.  

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.” 

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded. 

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.  

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.  

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.  

*** 

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes. 

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.  

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.  

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.  

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.  

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.  

The kid. Get to the kid! 

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.  

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much— 

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.  

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.  

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.  

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.  

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.  

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.  

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered. 

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.  

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.  

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.  

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.  

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.  

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed. 

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love. 

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance. 

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him. 

“Bucky?” 

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.  

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?” 

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.  

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.  

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.” 

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.  

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—” 

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.  

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved. 

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.  

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.” 

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return. 

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.  

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.” 

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.  

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.  

[penn-dragon]

Tangled Adjacent AU

That reminded me I still have more parksborn snippets to post

Context: This is from what I lovingly call my Tangled Adjacent AU which is inspired by, you guessed it, Tangled. The basic premise is that after Harry’s mother died Norman became obsessively overprotective of Harry and keeps him locked away in Oscorp to the point that no one even knows Norman Osborn HAS a son, feeding him inflated stories that keep him scared of the world and ESPECIALLY the menace Spider-Man. Until one day Peter accidently stumbles across him and becomes determined to help draw this misinformed, sheltered kid out of his shell.

Peter pushed open the grate and pulled himself out of the vent, tumbling to the floor and knocking a stack of books over on his way down.

“Yowch,” he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing his aching head for a moment. “Not one of my more graceful landings, I’ll give me that.” 

He dropped his hand to wrap both arms around his sore ribs, lifting his head and coming face to face with… a teenage boy. A teenage boy who looked terrified and furious all at once. Peter’s eyes widened.

He was holding what appeared to be a microscope above his head, ready to strike. A nice one. Probably the first thing he’d grabbed when he heard Peter come in. Peter held one hand up in front of himself, keeping the other pressed firmly against his ribs.

“Woah there.”

“What are you doing here, Spider-Man?��� The boy hissed. 

“Oh man—” Peter started uselessly, a little taken aback by the hostility. “I—uh— Look I didn’t mean to barge in, but—short version—I just got done beating a baddie, saving the day, you know the drill— Swung a little too close to Oscorp and had a run in with the security drones. I just ducked in the first vent I saw and ended up here.” He paused, glancing around the room. “... Wherever here is.” The little room looked like it was part of an apartment, but wasn’t recognizable as one of the few residential floors Oscorp had for it’s CEO and the small number of employees who could afford the rent. 

“Please,” the boy snapped, lifting the microscope slightly higher above his head, “you expect me to believe you ended up here by accident?” 

Peter wondered if his arms were getting tired holding that.

“I mean, I guess you don’t have to believe it, but why else would I be here?” 

“To inject me with venom and suck out my insides?”

He said it so matter-of-factly, even with the sarcastic lilt to his voice the suggestion was so ridiculous coming from a boy glaring daggers at him and holding a microscope above his head that it surprised a laugh out of Peter. The boy startled at the sudden sound, jerking back slightly.

“Seriously? These rumors have gotten so out of hand. I know the press doesn't like me but—jeez— Not only am I physically incapable of doing that, I really wouldn’t want to.”

That seemed to take some of the steam out of the boy’s engine, his grip on the microscope loosened slightly. Not off guard, but thrown for a loop definitely.

“Who even told you I do that?”

“My… dad,” he answered haltingly, like he hadn’t actually meant to say it.

“Who’s your dad,” Peter muttered, more to himself than anything, “J. Jonah Jameson?”

“No…” the boy trailed off, clearly not intending to continue.

“Well,” Peter filled in the silence with a short shrug of his shoulders, “I promise I’m not here to suck out your guts. So you can put that down—”  Immediately the tension was back in the boy’s muscles, holding the microscope ready to swing, “—or not.” Peter let out a short sigh lifting his left hand again to wave it placatingly. “Look you can keep that if it makes you feel safer, but I’m really banged up here, so I’m gonna sit. Please don’t hit me in the head with that thing, it would hurt.” Peter slowly lowered himself to the ground, scooting back so he could lean against the wall and shuffle himself into a semi-comfortable position. “Plus that looks like a really nice microscope, it’d be a waste to crack it over my skull.” 

Being given the high-ground—or maybe concern about the microscope—seemed to deflate the boy once more. He lowered his arms slightly, then let the microscope sink all the way to his chest where he wrapped his arms around it in a more comfortable hold.

“... It’s my favorite microscope,” he said after a pause. 

“No kidding? I can see why, wish I had one that nice. Mine’s a piece of second-hand junk from Ebay.”

“You like science?”

“You bet! Made all my own gear.” Peter held out his hand, folding his wrist down to show off his webshooter. The boy flinched back at the sudden movement, pulling the microscope further against his chest and retreating backwards to the mouth of the door. “Sorry! Sorry,” Peter called, tucking his hands under his armpits. “No webs, got it.” 

The boy continued to hover cautiously by the door. Now that his initial fire had calmed down he looked small. Mostly in a metaphorical sense, he was probably a couple inches taller than Peter, but he was skinny, and his jet black hair stood out in sharp contrast with how pale his skin was. His eyes, however, were a soft, muted blue that watched him wearily. 

“Do you… live here?” He asked, eyes darting around the room. It was definitely a bedroom… or at least, something close to a bedroom. There was a double bed pushed up in the corner, nearly eclipsed with stacks of books, notebooks and loose papers. Opposite was a desk covered in slides and petri disks where the boy must have been working when he stumbled in. The rest of the room was disturbingly bare. No pictures, posters, or any kind of memorabilia that would imply someone lived here. Nothing he would expect from another teenager’s bedroom. The boy didn’t answer, just continued staring at him from the doorway. As the silence stretched on uncomfortably long, Peter realized he didn’t intend to answer.

“What’s your name?” He tried again, tilting his head to study the other boy.

He didn’t get a response right away. After another stretch of silence under that unwavering blue gaze, Peter assumed he wasn’t going to get one. But as he dipped his head to check on his battered ribs, a quiet voice rose in the silence.

“Harry.”

Peter looked back up.

“Harry?” The boy—Harry—didn’t speak again, but he did avert his eyes for the first time since Peter entered the room, almost like he was embarrassed hearing his own name said aloud. “Harry,” Peter said again, testing the name on his tongue. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Spider-Man, you can call me Spidey.”

Harry looked back at him, clearly struggling to think of a response. Peter decided to spare him from thinking of one.

“Look, it’s clear my being here is… not so welcome. So I’ll just bounce.” He slowly stood up, minding both his injuries, and Harry still cowering at the door while trying to look like he wasn’t cowering. “I just needed to catch my second wind, so I can get out of range of the security bots before they turn me into Swiss cheese.”

“You fought the security bots to get in here.” Harry’s voice chimed back in. Peter turned his head to look at him. He was a step further into the room and there was a different look on his face. A spark in his eye that wasn’t there before.

“Yep,” Peter answered, popping the ‘p’ playfully. He turned back fully, curious to see where this was going.

“How were they?”

Peter tilted his head.

“Well they didn’t kill me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry snarked, “But i mean aside from that. How was their reactivity? Could you spot their patterns easily or no?” Harry moved forward and set the microscope back on the desk, lifting his hand to his chin as his eyes sunk to the floor and Peter was actually startled by how suddenly his demeanor changed. “I’ve been fiddling with them recently, trying to improve their efficiency—”

“Wait,” Peter cut in, “you built the Oscorp security bots?” 

Harry’s head snapped up, and he flinched back, ducking his head like he just realized he said something he shouldn’t have. He crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly his guard was back, and all the personality spilling out of him a moment ago was slammed back behind a wall.

“No, I— I didn't build them… Robotics aren’t really my thing… I’ve just been tinkering with them recently, as a side project.”

Peter watched him for a moment, wondering what he’d said to cause such a sudden shift, and how he could get that excitement back.

“Well, while they were trying to kill me it seemed like they worked pretty well,” he said, and Harry’s eyes lifted back to him, intrigue shining through in the blue of his eyes. “Little tip though, you should add a section in the coding that keeps them from flanking with each other. It seems like a good idea to surround an intruder but it’s way too easy to just duck out of the line of fire and watch them shoot each other.”

Peter knew very well that he was making it that much more difficult for himself the next time he had a run in with Oscorp’s security, but in his mind it was worth it when he once again saw the caution drain out of Harry’s eyes as he ran through Peter’s advice in his head.

“Hm,” he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 39)

This part was typed mostly on mobile. Sorry for any typos.

She remembers the first time she had seen snow. The feeling...it was bizarre. If she were to be completely honest, she would best compare it to the sensation of her worst days--the days when her mind is slipping and everything feels off and nothing feels real. But instead of fear, she feels awe. Instead of dread, she feels an almost childlike sense of delight.

And perhaps, in some sense, she is a child again; she has something new to discover. Something curious and strange.

"Hajime,look." She points out the window. "It's everywhere." And perhaps it is a silly thing to ask but she inquires anyhow, "how do we walk through it?"

"Like you walk anywhere else?" He quirks a brow.

"But in the Water Tribes...I've heard that there is special equipment used to navigate the snow."

He laughs, "the snow isn't that deep here!" He opens the door and gestures for her to exit.

"It's cold." She complains. Even under her winter wools, she finds herself shivering. And here Atsu goes, dashing out into the winter with no coat at all.

"Git back in here!" Hajime calls. "I tol' you last year 'bout going outside without a coat!"

Atsu comes to a halt, the magic of the morning coming to an abrupt pause with him. " But dad!"

"You need to help Rikka get dressed, she never had to wear a winter clothes before."

This seems to allure the boy and with a wide and gleeful grin he darts back into the house. "Hurry up and put your coat and gloves on, Rikka! We have to build snow people and throw balls of snow at each other and…" he chucks a coat and a pair of gloves at her--Hajime's she assumes based upon the size of them.

Azula stuffs her fingers into the gloves. Only one layer doesn't seem sufficient but another layer or two seems to aggravatingly restrict her finger movements and if she is going to destroy Hajime and Atsu at this snowball war, she is going to need a full range of movement from her fingers.

She steps out into the snow, she hears it sift beneath her weight. So far everything is going accordingly, there is no ice to land her on the ground.she deduces that, in most places, the snow only reaches up to her ankles which is, though an inconvenience, manageable enough. But she can't imagine that running from enemy fire will be as easy. She supposes that if she needs a speedy getaway she can just melt some of the snow and listen to Atsu screech about her cheating. Perhaps she would feel more guilty over it if Atsu weren't a merciless little brute. He does not wait for her to assemble her protective mound of snow before bombarding her with an onslaught of tightly packed snow.

"Gotcha!" He whoops with each hit that she fails to evade. It would seem that while she was assessing her surroundings he hand been stockpiling an extensive artillery.

"Geez, Atsu, show mercy, this is her first snowball fight." Hajime chuckles from his spot on the porch.

It is a nice thought but Atsu, the feral beast, knows nothing of mercy. He tosses snowball after snowball. She manages to create only one but before she can throw it, Atsu fires another shot. And this one sails directly down the front of her shirt. She feels it slide from her chest to her belly leaving her with a full body shudder as itself away. She had dropped her snowball. Never in her life has she felt anything quite like it; uncomfortable and somewhat biting but I'm a way that wasn't exactly painful.

She tosses a pathetically pleading glance to Hajime who throws his head back in a howling laugh. "Alright, alright." He gets to his feet and steps out into the battlefield.

"Uh oh…" Atsu mumbles, he is now we'll aware that he should have built himself a snow fortress. Azula gives him a smug smile as she lifts a new snowball.

"Uh oh." He repeats as her very second snowball sails right into his face.

Maybe she should feel guilty over it but he isn't crying and he brushes it right off. And besides, she is certain that he was aiming for her face the whole time anyways, he simply didn't have the arm strength to land any hits higher than chest level.

And by the end of the hour she is almost embarrassed by how satisfied she feels to have beaten a child at a children's game. Any tickles of shame are washed away by Atsus delightful giggles. His enthusiastic, "wait until Caihong and Kim get here! We'll kick yer butts until you don't have butts no more!"

People have bestowed upon her many threats. But none have been quite like that.

That day she learns that Atsu is very much a little shit and that, likely, she will never truly shake her competitive nature.

.oOo.

She has been to plenty of awkward dinners but the silence of this one is so thick that it is dizzying. She can’t help but notice the way that Sokka twiddles his thumbs and looks in every direction but his father’s and Katara’s. It occurs to her that he is ashamed of her. Is embarrassed to be seen with her. She supposes that it is a good thing that the snow storm has picked up too strongly to go for a stroll through the village. She can only imagine what sort of looks she will get from everyone else. A firebender...the princess among people who the Fire Nation has displaced and nearly destroyed. She is everything that they detest and she supposes that Sokka has every right to be embarrassed by that. Embarrassed in the same way that she had been to parade him around the Fire Nation at first.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, dad?”

The man gives something between a hum and a sigh, “I’m trying to figure out what to say.” Hakoda looks at her. His face isn’t as steely with stubbornness as Katara’s.

Azula stares at her palms. She should take her mittens off. But any little motion will draw too much attention. Not that Katara's resentful gaze has left her since she got to the table. She wants to have a taste of her seaweed stew but she is already mildly nauseous with nervousness and the scent of the stew doesn't exactly kindle her appetite.

"Just talk to her for a bit, dad, you'll like her." Sokka promises.

The flutters in her tummy intensify that much more. She wishes that he wouldn't make promises that even he isn't certain of.

"She likes history and strategizing just like you do and…"

"And she used it to foil our invasion and get him sent to the Boiling Rock." Katara folds her arms across her chest.

Azula cringes to herself, truth be told, she had forgotten about that. Comparatively speaking, it seemed much less profound than some of her other misdeeds.

"Yeah well she's done a lot of changing since then." Sokka insists. “See, she even has the redemption haircut!”

“The what?” Azula finally speaks up.

“Yeah, Zuko said he cut his hair before joining us and now look at him, he’s happy--but in a grumpy old man sort of way, he’s a good friend, and he’s got long flowing tresses.”

Azula rolls her eyes. She isn’t sure if she wants to slug the man to death right in front of his father and sister or if she finds his recant amusing. She supposes that it would ruin her chances to make amends of she murdered Sokka now. “It wasn’t a redemption haircut I had matted hair and, maybe, lice.” Ji-Zhang had only mentioned it being matted. She supposes if she had lice that they would have shaved…

“Azula.” Sokka manages to cut through her comfort musings. Granted her musings weren’t at all pleasant but her inner monologue very much beats the external alternative.

She realizes that Hakoda has extended his hand. It is far less formal than a bow but she will take what she can get. He gives her hand a shake. “I’m Hakoda.”

“Sokka told me that, already. And he has already told you my name.”

Sokka flushes, “you’re supposed to introduce yourselves to each other.” And then he turns to his father, “she’s still working on the whole having a normal conversation thing. It runs in the family.”

“I can have a normal conversation just fine.” She folds her arms and holds her head high.

“Well it’s...interesting to formally meet you, Azula.”

“Dad!” Katara says sharply. “She’s not a part of this family. I don’t care how much Sokka likes her.”

“Come on Katara.”

“Don’t ‘come on Katara’ me! You’re the one trying to welcome her into the Water Tribe.”

“I get it, this is for the whole Jet thing isn’t it.”

This time Katara blushes.

“Who is Jet?” Azula furrows her brows.

“Yes, who is Jet?” Hakoda agrees.

“You don’t know about Jet?” Sokka asks at the same time as Katara says, “you weren’t supposed to tell him about Jet!”

“Jet’s just some jerk that flooded a whole village full of kids. To drive out some Fire Nation soldiers.”

“Gaipan?”

“Yeah.” Sokka nods. “You know about that.”

Azula returns the nod. “We lost a few soldiers there. There were noble men and women.” She pauses. “Stubborn too. They might have been alright if they fled with the rest of the village but…”

“Firebenders and their pride.” Hakoda clicks his tongue.

She wants to call the man on his generalization but frankly she hasn’t met a firebender yet who didn’t value pride. And maybe that is why it is so hard for her to apologize to Katara and Hakoda. Though she isn’t certain that she particularly needs to apologize to Hakoda--he had led an invasion to defeat her father. He had encroached on her land. It was her duty to see those plans foiled. Though pointing that out probably won’t serve her too well.

“Can you give her a chance, Katara? I gave Jet a chance.”

“No you didn’t. You were protesting and whining the whole time.”

“And I ended up being right.”

“So will I.” With those three words, she storms out into the snow.

“That went flawlessly.” Azula grumbles.

“Just give her some time, she’ll come around when she realizes that you’re actually kind of a really sweet person.”

“I will set everything you love on fire…”

“You just like to pretend that you aren’t.” And to Hakoda he mutters, “It’s part of the firebender pride thing. You can’t let anyone know that you’re nice.” He slings an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in closer.

Azula sighs, it is going to be a long, long vacation or whatever in the spirits’ name she could call this.

[yelenasdog]

romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me. 

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

♔♂♔

“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him. 

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

 Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone. 

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.” 

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words. 

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them. 

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

 He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face. 

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer​ LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 4

warnings: none? I don’t believe so?

summary: Y/N spends a bit more time with Lee, but Jet is tired of waiting. 

a/n: If you haven’t noticed already, I’ll probably be releasing chapters in batches of two each week, as that’s what's working with my schedule. Thanks for sticking around this long!

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

“Would you like some more tea, sir?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, please,” the man replied eagerly, holding up his teacup for Y/N to fill. Y/N carefully poured a fresh cup from the pot she was carrying. The man handed her another copper piece, and Y/N tucked it into her pocket before continuing her rounds.

“Why do you always earn more than me?” Lee complained when Y/N got back around to the counter where he was standing. She was busy putting yet another copper piece in the pocket of her apron from a woman that she had served.

“I smile at the customers, Lee,” Y/N joked. “They like it when you talk to them and check in on them.”

“They’re paying for tea.” Lee crossed his arms. “Not conversation.”

Y/N laughed freely at his frustration. “How do you talk to your customers?”

“Hello. What tea would you like?” Lee’s voice had almost no inflection as he spoke. Y/N giggled, and Lee glared at her. “I don’t need your help,” he grumbled, turning to walk away.

“No, no!” Y/N giggled, grabbing his arm to keep him from walking away. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop laughing. But you need to not sound so… unhappy.”

“I’m never happy,” Lee deadpanned, staring you down. “But fine.” Y/N suppressed another laugh as Lee left to go check on another table.

Y/N liked working with Lee and Mushi, and she was getting along well enough with Pao. She realized how much she liked having friends; not that it was an area she had much experience in. She considered Lee and Mushi to be friends, as well as Jet, despite the odd conversation they’d had the night before.

She was a bit worried about him. After another night of training, Jet had asked her if she had any ‘evidence’ about Lee and Mushi. She had said no, and Jet had thrown one of his swords across the room, sticking it into the wall. I’m sorry, Y/N. He had said, hanging his head. I want you to know that I trust you.

But for now, Y/N thought, she could just enjoy it. Laughing at Lee and talking about Pai Sho with Mushi. She had never met anyone else who truly loved the game. “We must play against each other sometime,” Mushi had laughed, taking a sip from his tea. “Lee is a terrible Pai Sho opponent.” There was no way Jet knew about her secret; she hadn’t firebended since that night in her room. Every time she had tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lee’s scar. A firebender gave that to him.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. The tea shop wasn’t very busy, with only a few customers coming and going. Pao had mentioned something about a party at the palace. Maybe that was drawing people toward the upper rings for the night?

“Y/N, why don’t you leave early?” Pao told her as she brought an empty teapot back to him.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, yes,” Pao waved her away. “Just grab the cups from that empty booth and hang up your apron. Mushi and Lee can handle themselves without you for one night.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Y/N joked. “But thank you, Pao.”

Y/N went back out into the teashop and began gathering the empty cups that were left on an open table, carefully stacking them and enjoying the light clinking of the porcelain.

“I’m tired of waiting!” The door to the teashop busted open, and Y/N was so startled that she barely managed to keep her stack of cups from falling. “These two men are firebenders!” Y/N felt her jaw drop as she saw Jet, the same paranoid, panicked look she had seen on his face the night before, pointing at where Mushi and Lee were standing together. Y/N’s heart pounded as Jet drew his hook swords. Run, Lee.

“I know they’re firebenders!” Jet yelled, staring at Mushi. “I saw the old man heating his tea!”

“He works in a teashop,” a random customer pointed out.

“He’s a firebender! I’m telling you!” Jet cried, not lowering his swords. Y/N felt her heart twist as she watched her friend, the manic in his eyes.

“Drop your swords boy, nice and easy,” the customer said, slowly standing, holding out a hand as if Jet were an animal. Jet ignored him, looking at Lee.

“You’ll have to defend yourself,” Jet challenged, stepping forward. “Then everyone will know.” He smirked. “Go ahead, show them what you can do.”

Y/N caught a flash of metal as a customer drew two swords.

“You want a show? I’ll give you a show!” Lee yelled, and then the shop descended into chaos.

Y/N watched in awe as Lee took the customer’s broadswords and kicked one of the tea shop’s tables in Jet’s direction. Jet sliced through it with his hook swords, and Lee managed to hop up and balance himself on another table as Jet hacked away its legs. Y/N could hardly recognize Jet’s strategy; he was swinging wildly, all restraint gone. Jet was trying to kill Lee, Y/N realized.

Y/N winces as their weapons clang together, somehow unable to move from her spot. Her legs felt heavy as she watched Lee barrel out the front door, with Jet following on his heels. When she finally got her legs to move, she felt a crunch underneath her feet. She looked down to see cracked porcelain surrounding her; she didn’t realize she had dropped the teacups.

Y/N stepped outside just in time to see Jet and Lee back to back, swinging at each other, but each blow is effectively blocked. Y/N watched as two Dai Li agents emerged from the shadows.

“Drop your weapons,” one ordered.

“Arrest them!” Jet yelled, seeing the agents. “They’re firebenders!” Jet was panting, obviously out of breath. Lee stood still and silent, seemingly unaffected. The light from the streetlamps lit his face, casting a dark shadow over the side with his scar.

“This poor boy is confused,” Mushi said, stepping forward. “We’re just simple refugees.”

“This young man destroyed my tea shop and attacked my employees!” Pao pointed at Jet accusingly.

“It’s true, sir. We saw the whole thing,” a customer confirmed. “This crazy kid attacked the finest teamaker in the city.”

Mushi blushed. “Oh, ho, that’s very sweet.” Y/N looked at Lee. He still hadn’t moved, his swords pointed at the dirt. The agents had heard enough.

“Come with us, son,” one said as they stepped toward Jet. Jet tried in vain to swing one of his swords towards the agent, but the earthbender simply caught the blade in one rock-covered hand. Jet’s hook swords fell into the dirt. The agents bound Jet’s hands in stone. It seemed that Jet had finally had the realization; he had lost. Y/N’s legs felt weak as she watched Jet get dragged away and into the Dai Li’s wagon.

“You don’t understand! They’re Fire Nation! You have to believe me!”

Y/N only met Jet’s eyes once, as he stood on his knees as the Dai Li agents shut the doors of the wagon.

He attacked them. Y/N’s mind ran in circles. He attacked them, and it’s my fault. It’s my fault.

She hadn’t managed to get much further than into the door of the teashop before she had to sit down; she hadn’t realized how faint she felt until the initial shock wore away.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N looked up to see Lee looking at her. “Yeah,” she rubbed at her forehead. “I’m fine, I need to clean up those cups…” Lee held out a hand to stop her as she tried to stand.

“You don’t look well. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re the one who was just attacked,” Y/N pointed out, leaning forward, resting her head on one hand.

“Um…” Lee shuffled awkwardly, pulling out a chair to sit across from her. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Lee,” Y/N confessed, finally looking into the boy’s eyes. They were a nice gold, she noticed. “It’s all my fault.”

“Jet’s the one who went crazy, Y/N. You had nothing to do with it.”

I’m the firebender, Y/N wanted to say. Jet was looking for me but found you instead. He said he trusted me, and I lied to him. I lied to you. He made a mistake; he made the wrong guess.

“I didn’t do anything to stop him,” Y/N said instead. Lee gave her a sympathetic look.

“You couldn’t have,” Lee reasoned. “He wasn’t going to stop until he was arrested. Or worse.”

“I’ve been training with him. I’ve learned how he fights. I could have done something, but instead I broke a bunch of teacups.” Y/N looked at the porcelain that was still laying broken on the floor.

“He wouldn’t have stopped, Y/N. You would’ve gotten hurt.” Y/N knew he was right. She knew Jet, and she knew how he felt about firebenders. She knew how he felt about justice.

“I was scared for you,” Y/N admitted. She didn’t know why she said it, but now she was looking at her hands, and Lee had gone quiet for a moment, and she felt like she shouldn’t have said it at all.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Lee reached out, taking one of her hands in his. She couldn’t ignore how warm they were, but Y/N immediately felt more grounded. They were both okay. She was safe.

“Go,” Lee told her, standing. “I’ll clean up the broken cups. Get some rest.”

This time, Y/N didn’t protest. “Thank you.” She still felt the guilt writhing in her stomach as she made her way up to her room.

Y/N couldn’t sleep. She laid in bed, thinking of the glint of Lee’s swords. She obviously didn’t know him very well, but he didn’t know her either. He would never find out. But she couldn’t get Jet’s face out of her head. He had believed that Lee and Mushi were firebenders, and he was paying for it. He trusted me. He had asked her for evidence, and she should’ve just given in then. But she hadn’t. He trusted the wrong person.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

---

taglist

@kaylove12 

[sophialikesthings]

Death Of Me Chapter 7

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

Song: Helium- Glass Animals (IYKYK 💙💚) "This is the stupidest drawing in the world. Who drew this?" I laughed looking at Kiara.

"Who do you think?" She looked over at  Pope.

"Kie, your plan better work because there is no way we can pawn these off with a symbol on it." JJ walked over tossing the gold in front of us.

"It's gonna work." She held up a blow torch.

I helped JJ set up the pot where we would melt off the wheat symbol.

Once the gold was melted down we all hopped in the van and headed towards the local pawn shop.

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr.Frankenstein." JJ hopped out of the van looking at the poorly melted glob of gold.

"Like you could have done any better?"

"I could have done much better, I took a welding class"

"When?"

"Guys chill, all that matters is that the wheat symbol is gone." I tried to mediate the situation

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one that has to pawn this piece of shit off." JJ held up the gold.

"How did I get this job anyway?"

"Because you're the best liar." Pope said as we headed inside.

===

"Afternoon ma'am" JJ took his cap off.

"Afternoon."

"I see you buy gold." He took off his backpack, the rest of us pretended to look around the store.

"That's what the sign says don't it?"

"Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I'm about to blow your mind." He pulled it out.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it kid."

"How 'bout them gold apples." he set it down in front of the store clerk.

"That ain't real." She chuckled

"That ain't real?" JJ repeated her.

"Feel how heavy it is."

She struggled to pick it up and grabbed her magnifier glass and looked closely as if she was examining every inch of it.

"Spray painted tungsten." She looked at him

She grabbed a hammer and hit a corner of it.

"If that wasn't real gold would you dent it that easily ma'am?" JJ questioned her judgement.

"Hold your horses." She put on her glasses

After bickering back and forth she put it on a scale.

"Seven pounds thats a lot of earrings." She didn't believe his lie.

JJ went on about how his mom had 'alzhimers', trying to gain sympathy from her.

She walked away to go get someone from the back.

"Alzhimers? Are you kidding me JJ?" I questioned his lying capabilities. "What? Got me out of many detentions so why not try it now?"

The owner came back out and started talking prices with JJ I kind of zoned out looking at 'Vintage Jewelry' with Sarah.

Before I knew it we were headed to the pawn stores warehouse to get the money.

"JJ, How in the world did you get away with an Alzheimer's lie?" I laughed.

"Listen man, we got the money didn't we?"

Suddenly we heard the sounds of police sirens telling us to pull over.

As we were trying to stash the gold someone pointed a gun at John B, Unfortunately I knew exactly who this was.

We all carefully did as instructed lying down on the ground while he went through the van.

John B got up and quickly ran to Barry's car grabbing the car keys and waiting till Barry got back in the car, strangling him getting back the gold he took. JJ ran over to help him get the gold back. While they were throwing punches I scooped up the gold from the passenger's seat and ran back to the van.

"I got it! Come on."

"Wait." JJ pulled down his mask.

"I know this piece of shit!" JJ couldn't believe it

"He's a base head."

"Probably knows my brother." Sarah panted.

"He does."

"He sells coke to my dad." JJ squared up.

"Mrs. Country Club!" Before Barry could finish speaking, JJ punched him.

"Let's go see where this son of a bitch lives?" JJ started walking.

"I'm gonna remember this shit!" Barry threatened.

=== "I should get back to my place, I'll see you later JJ." I hugged him tightly.

After I let go I walked back into my house to see the boys hanging out outside.

"Hey!" I greeted them

"There you are! I was wondering where you went?" Rafe hugged me kissing the top of my head.

"Rafe Cameron!" I heard Barry pull up out front.

"Fuck!" I ran inside to my room, opening the window so I could hear their conversation.

"What are you doing here man? Are you good?" Rafe asked, pulling him over to the side.

"No, I aint good man."

"Alright what happened."

"Why's your family think I'm just some bitch they can shit on?" Barry asked. "First your dad kneecaps me in my house, then I have to deal with your sister and your girlfriend breaking into my house and stealing my shit." He got upset.

I saw Topper's face change, he looked up at me and I felt my heart drop.

"My little sister, Robbed you?" Rafe asked.

"Yeah, Sarah, Demi, and their surfer rat friends stole 25k from me! That is why I'm here."

"Demi wouldn't even pick up a dollar off of the streets." Rafe defended me.

"Sort this shit out or I will! And I wont be nice about it." He barked.

"What are you gonna do?" Topper asked.

"I don't know?  That's not my problem." Rafe chuckled.

"Hey, That's Demi we are talking about." He reminded Rafe.

=== I ran over to the Camerons where Sarah and John B were

"We gotta go, Like now! Barry came over to my house and told Rafe about everything, Rafes coming to get you." I explained out of breath.

We quickly left the lot as soon as we could. We made it about five minutes out when Rafe pulled us over.

"Let me handle it, Sarah, come out when you think it's necessary." I hopped out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I stomped over.

"There she is!" He took his helmet off.

"Hello? Are you high?" I asked

"Damn it Rafe, we could have run you over."

"I just heard about your little home invasion!" He scoffed.

"What are you talking about?" I acted clueless.

"What would your father, the sheriff, say if he knew you were robbing dealers?"

I heard Sarah step out of the van.

"And you! What would our dad say?" he pointed at her.

"I don't know. You could tell him if he didn't kick you out." she snapped back.

"Listen Demi, I try to take care of you."

"That's a lie" I laughed.

"Who's ungrateful, as always, listen, the guy that you robbed is a bad man, Demi."

"Yeah, I'm aware, Rafe!"

"Listen! He gave me this,okay?" He showed me his arm.

Suddenly Topper decided to show up.

"You take care of your shit, I'll take care of mine!"

"I"m taking care of my shit! Listen Demi, One day I'm gonna be running the show, for us because I love you!"

"A-and I don't like it when we fight." He pulled me in for a hug.

"We will talk about this later."

=== Later That Day === I decided to go and see what JJ was doing because I was bored, oddly I showed up at the house at the same time as Kiara and Pope.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Kiara asked, giving me a hug.

"Checking in on JJ, he had a rough day."

All of a sudden fairy lights come on.

"Where did that come from?" We went to the back of the house to find out.

As we got closer we saw a drunk JJ sitting in a brand new hot tub popping a cork off of a champagne bottle.

"What did you do? JJ." Pope asked.

"I got a jet going straight in my butt right now." He laughed.

"Y'all should get in here immediately. Especially you Demi, you look hot in a bathing suit."

"Salud!" He held up a plastic champagne glass that was in a flamingo drink floatie.

We just looked at eachother confused about the sudden change in JJ.

"JJ? How much did this cost?" I asked.

"Uh...With the generator, the petrol,and oh, hey, express delivery I'd say...pretty much all of it. Yeah." He chuckled as if this was a joke.

"All of it? You spent all of it. In one day?" I replied.

"Yeah, I burned a hole right through my pocket."

I stepped closer to JJ

"But, I mean ,like,come on, guys, like, look at this!" He showed it off.

"Finest in jet-based massage therapy, that's what they told me."

I just stared at him.

"Demi, what? Can't a man have a little luxury in his life? Come on, all this scrimpin' and scrapin'... I mean, like...guys, we-- you only live once, right? Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat's Ass. Come on." He gestured us over.

"In the what?" Kie finally spoke.

"The Cat's Ass. That's what I named her."

"Oh, hey, yo I almost forgot." He flipped a switch causing a disco ball to light up and spin

"Yeah, that's right, I know. Disco mode."

"Are you kidding me! You could have given it for restitution!" Pope yelled

"Or any charity!" Kiara chimed in.

"Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies." Pope threw out another suggestion.

I could see him break.

"Ok, you know what, I didn't do that! I got a hot tub!" He stood up. I saw the bruises on his body making me feel sick.

"For my friends." He cried.

"I got a hot tub for my friends, you know what screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family."

I slipped off my shoes and got in with him, wrapping him in my arms as he cried out.

"I can't do it! I can't take him anymore!"

"It's gonna be okay." I kissed his shoulder while his face was nuzzled in the crook of my neck.

Soon Kiara and Pope joined in on the hug.

"I love you JJ." I whispered in his ear.

"I love you too Demi."

[bltzgore]

TW: mention broken rib, blood, running, fear

Shoving past tree branches and through bushes that scraped him, he couldn’t feel them. His breathing was rapid and uneven. His body was screaming for oxygen but each deep breath invited fire into his side as it infuriated the doubtlessly broken rib. He didn’t know how long he could run. There wasn’t much longer, his head was pounding and he could feel the edge of his vision trying to pull away. One leg was worse off than the other, he wasn’t quite sure how he was running on it. As just as his brain started to wander to this particular miracle of adrenaline it ceased. 

He tripped or his leg gave, one way or the other he wound up face down in the dirt. He borderline blacked out as his ribcage was taxed. His lungs scrambled to get air back in his chest, and he slowly got his shaking arms under him as he attempted to get back to his feet. His sight blurred for just a second as his head took the opportunity to swim in the excess terror. But as his eyes focused again they reached a set of heavy black boots, one of them mended partially with well maintained metal of some sort.

He took no time to think, he threw himself backwards and started to scramble away. The further back he got the more complete of an image he got. Those boots were worn but feet attached to a set of legs covered by blue jeans slightly worn about the knee. From there it turned to a navy shirt brushed with something black in a few places. The arms that protruded from this torso were strong and marred up. One of the forams was tattooed with a realistically drawn dog snarling with a foaming mouth and crazy eyes. Atop all of that was a face with just as much tan and marring as the arms. In that head there were eyes the color of murk and hair that drained light away rustling like tree branches.

He would have taken this to be a human were it not for the mask. At first glance one might assume it was made of fabric and simply worn for some sort of catastrophic fashion statement but no, that was natural coloring. It was so near to jet black it nearly matched the hair. It was the sharp contrast that made the murky eyes and two little mud colored patches by her eyebrows stand out so much, so brown they glowed. 

He scrambled until his back reached a tree, even then he held up an arm in poor defense of his head. He scrunched one of his eyes shut and waited. For the fist, for the teeth, for the claws, something. But she just knelt down. There was no malice in those eyes, but the carry over fear wouldn’t let him calm just in case. 

“Easy, calm down.” She slowly reached out her hand, gently placing it on his forearm. She was patient, but also strong, and slowly she moved his arm down. She got a much clearer look at the bruises blooming on his face as the clouds made way for the moon. “You had a rough night, huh?” she observed quietly.  

He opened his mouth to answer when a voice rang out from the forest at his back. “Where'd you go, human!!?? You can’t hide!! We can smell ya!” The voice was rife with a feral gratieness to it. 

As soon as it hit his ears the terror came rushing back and he sprang up trying to run again. He made it five steps before he saw the futility of track. A seven-foot chain link fence topped with the customary razor wire stood before him. He almost collapsed against it, trying hard to keep from falling. But even as he reached the ground there was something that wouldn’t let him lie there and wait for his hunters to reach him. Still he tried to crawl. 

“Stop, stop, stop, hey!” she crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his nonexistent progress. “Calm down, just relax. You’re safe now.”

“They’re. Coming.” He managed. 

“I know,” she hushed him, “But it’s fine now. I’ll handle them.” Her tone turned heavy at the last part. 

Before he could answer she stood and turned away, the rustle of footsteps drawing her attention to the trees. He kept himself propped up on his hands as he tried to avoid taking deep breaths, blood dribbling from his nose and a cut on his forehead. He watched them appear from the cold shadows cast by the trees. Glinting eyes of almost yellow flashing before they emerged. There were four of them, she could smell them and hear their breathing. They hadn’t even tried to hide one of their number in the trees behind them. She mentally marked down their intelligence. The leader of their order seemed to be one with a sort of lanky but not quite twig-like build. There were two that seemed slightly stronger than he, and one who was shorter and was just lurking about the treeline without much effort at being stealthy. Rank and immature coyotes.

Their leader stepped forward with an almost shark-like smile. “Give us back our chew toy.” He ordered. 

A group of kids trying to run wild, but probably running back to mom and dad every time the forest got too dark or their phone ran out of charge. Unlike the purists, these punks’ definition of wild was eating roadkill, wearing loose, dirty clothes, and hanging out in the woods that were just at the edge of the town. She could smell his last meal clearly on his breath. She had to openly keep from wincing at the stench. “Humans aren’t chew toys, and you’re not wild animals. Go home.” She dismissed.  

She could see the fury collecting in their leader’s eyes. “Bitch, you think you can just order us around?” he seethed. “There’s four of us and only one of you! We’ll kill you and take him after!” His teeth flashed in the moonlight, far too long and spikey.  

She didn’t have the energy for this. “I’m going to give you one warning. If you don’t turn and run like an intelligent beast I am going to beat you until you can’t.” 

Self doubt seemed to flash through his eyes before he remembered that his friends were behind him. He couldn’t back out, he didn’t need to back out. He was fighting a girl! He’d crush her! With the burst of confidence he charged forward snarling and swinging.

She glided past his pathetic excuse for a punch. It was wild and untrained. She was sure even he didn’t know where he wanted it to go. Her counter was a strike unleashed like a coiled spring. Her fist collided with his face and she felt the transfer of force. She had to remind herself to hold back. If she went too far she could get into trouble. No broken bones, she reminded herself, and pulled back. She took half a step away and waited for the next attack, but it didn’t come. The coyote leader was holding a hand over his bloody nose. He was scared of her now, he was trying to find enough of a reason to run. Well, why deny him what he was so desperately searching for? 

She lunged and for the first time genuinely flashed her teeth and snarled. A hauntingly inhuman sound. Like a dog’s, but much stronger and much deeper. It shook their bones. Even the air was still for several seconds after, until the leader made the sensible call to run. His lackeys followed suit. 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight that she turned back. He was still leaned over, but a small puddle of blood had collected below his mouth. He looked up with pained but grateful eyes. She knelt back down next to him, “Told you I’d handle them.” 

[pairofmelaninkweens]

Zen’in’s Deadliest- Toji Fushiguro x Naraka OC

Warning: Consensual rough sex, Choking, Knife play, Blood Kink, Heavy Degradation, Violence, Use of weapons, Fighting.

Thank you @xshinigamikittenx for editing and @sweet-darling91 for Beta Reading and giving correct warnings!

By @aztecbrujeria 

Tokyo (10 years before Breaking a Curse):

Naraka stands against the dilapidated brick building, hidden in the shadows, waiting for her target to leave. The heavy air envelopes her surroundings, thick with salt and chill from the autumn night and harbor fog, a light mist from the earlier downpours still remains to make the background of the busy city a blurred haze. She's fully aware of the danger this  man is capable of, he carries the title of the deadliest jujutsu assassin, but she didn’t care. She has no one and nothing to live for or come home to at the end of the day. She lived her life as one of many third-party hitmen for the Yakuza. Regardless of who he was, this target was just another SOB that owed money and it was time to pay up. She rests her hand on her hip where the Magnum 357 revolver lies in wait in her thigh holster, the weight of the large Glock a comfort. She inhales and smiles inwardly, “The only true love I’ve ever had.” In the shadows she caught the light from the gambling den spill forth from the entrance before she lays eyes on him, causing her to hesitate about the possibility to do the hit tonight. 

Toji Fushiguro, Zenin’s deadliest, walked into the darkened alleyway and stretched his arms overhead. This man is the target?! She thought to herself in astonishment and a small amount of apprehension. She drinks him in, seeing nothing but a monster of a man in an oversized sweater and black loose pants. He runs his large digits through his straight, jet black hair as he begins to walk, his lackluster posture failing to hide his size. Looks can be deceiving. Naraka shook her head and decided to wait in order to observe him to make the right call.  The longer I wait, the better the job will go... but the longer I wait, the longer I’ll have to go without food. Just as she thought this, her stomach grumbled. She hugs her midsection, feeling her muscles contract in protest. “Shit, I need to go five-finger discount some fucking protein stat.” Shaking off her hunger, she straightened up and refocused. Based on her reports, Toji was not one to shy away from women. She could at least follow him and see where he was headed. If I’m lucky, he’ll stop by a food stall...so hungry...NO! FOCUS! Naraka steps out from the shadows and begins to follow the monster of a man walking towards the bustling lights of the city, away from the darkness of the underbelly of Tokyo. 

She can hear the cold click of her heeled boots against the pavement, sporadically splashing through puddles as she makes her way to the lights, taking care not to get too close. She weaves her way through the throngs of people, watching him part the path like Moses and the Red Sea with how large and intimidating he is against the chaotic collection of souls. Pulling her distressed denim jacket closer, she realizes that she looks like just another punk. Perfect, I already fit in, he’ll never notice. Besides, I’m five feet tall, he’ll never pinpoint someone like me. Naraka decides to be a bit braver, pushing her limit just a tad, as she closes the distance between them. She’s close enough to hear him on his cell as he takes a call. “Yeah...How much?... Fuck, yeah I can do it.” She hears the click of his phone closing and watches him angrily put it in his pocket. She smiles as she watches him, for a dead man he was very handsome. Taking a chance, she puts her pickpocket skills to good use as she craftily bumps into him. “Oh, sorry!” She was quick enough to take what little cash he had and used her sleight of hand to tuck the cash into the band of her fishnets. “I’m so sorry señor, lo siento, I didn’t…” He stood with bright emerald eyes and smirked at her. “You think you’re so sly, don’t you?” Shit, he knows, “Perdón?” He comes close enough to bend down and look Naraka directly in her honey brown eyes, noses almost touching, “You know for a pickpocket you’re pretty enough to fuck... However, just give me my money back, and I won’t kill you.” This pendejo! At least he doesn’t know...just like I thought...Naraka smiles big and reaches her arms behind her back, pulling out the cash. “Sorry, I was just hungry, I haven’t eaten in a couple days...to be honest, I didn’t think you’d notice.” Toji put his hand out for the yen she’d swiped. Eyeing his outstretched palm, she observed that he could easily grip her head like a basketball. “Sorry.” She handed him the money, and just as she was about to turn away and keep walking towards the next alley, Toji’s giant hand encompassed hers, forcing her to look back up at him, “You hungry? Let’s eat. Then, maybe later I’ll fill that pretty mouth of yours with me.” She looks up at him and his devilish smile with clear confusion. I know this man doesn’t think I’m gonna fuck him for buying me dinner?! Well, who the fuck am I kidding...that’ll be the easiest way to kill him, get some “D” and run...alright bet. 

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Right on cue, her stomach grumbled loud enough for him to hear, his dangerous smile showing more teeth, making the scar on the right side of his lips lift with them. “Perfect, my treat.” Naraka shrugs, turning to walk towards a food stall by the closest alley. Get him to an open place...don’t let your guard down. Her attire isn’t respectable enough for an eat-in event, wearing fishnets with Doc martens, a short distressed skirt and thigh harnesses (complete with a hidden Glock and daggers). Complimenting her cropped band T with her favorite destroyed denim jacket, covered in band patches and pins. Naraka inked her skin to hide the scars from the beatings she took in her earlier life and surviving on the streets, purposefully drawing attention to her legs and chest. Five feet tall and muscular, due to the fact that she trained every day and then some to be better than any man or woman in her profession. Naraka feels his eyes roving over her body from behind. Perfect...he’s hooked, this will be a quick and eventful fuck. She’s deep in thought about the best way to deliver the deepest cut at close range, letting him bleed out under her when she feels his hand squeeze her shoulder. “Hey, you almost missed it. Did you want food or what?” She looks up at him, snapping out of her murderous thoughts, “Yeah, sorry, I’ll take some teriyaki chicken and some steamed veggies with rice.” Toji looked at her with suspicion, “Yeah, we’ll take a double order of teriyaki chicken and veggies and extra rice.” Naraka furrows her brow and looks up at him, “I was fine with just what I said.” Toji smirked, “For someone who's starving you like to complain about eating free food.” His voice is steeped in sarcasm, causing Naraka to roll her eyes in response. “Besides,” he continues, dropping his eyes down to her ass, “you gotta fuel those deadly curves.” Naraka’s head snaps up, her fight or flight response kicking in, pupils dilating and cheeks flushed, “I-Are you saying I’m fat?” Calm down idiota!!! Don’t let him get to you. As far as you know he doesn’t know who you really are. Calming herself, she smiles wickedly back at him, making sure he watches as she turns this way and that so he could see every bend and curve of her body as she checks for rolls, simultaneously double-checking she had easy access to her hidden daggers and Glock. She checks her thigh harnesses and pulls at them trying to feign innocent self-consciousness.

She whips her thick black hair back over her shoulder, playing with the braids intermingled in her curls. “I didn’t think I was fat...although I’m fine with the extra cushion. You know what they say.” She shrugs and smiles like the temptress she knows she is, catching  him in her peripheral vision when she reaches for the food as he smirks with a flash of curiosity in his malachite eyes. Naraka shoveled the food into her mouth with the chopsticks. I’m not changing for this cabrón. It’s not like he’s gonna keep seeing me...he’s gonna be dead by the end of the night anyways. She hears him laugh at her, surprised at how sexy the sound is, reverberating into her, making her body begin to riot within. She chokes on her rice reaching for some water. “Is something funny cabrón?” Toji sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “No, it’s just nice to see a woman eat, that’s all.” Naraka squints her eyes at him, finishing off the meal. “Why do I feel like that’s a threat.” Her stomach finally quelled from her hunger, she finally  felt an energy boost after all that time standing and waiting for him earlier to leave the gambling den. “Well, thanks for the food. I better be going, you know, things to steal, people to bother, concerts to get to.” Naraka turns and begins to walk towards the closest alley to slip into the shadows and wait for him, but he’s so quick it doesn’t  register with her until it’s too late. His large hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her into his heavily muscled chest. Toji towers over her as he leans into Naraka’s ear, his hot breath teasing her raven tresses and tickling her flesh. The way he presses against her makes her acutely aware of every sinew of muscle that moves in tandem to keep her close.

Naraka’s instincts take over and she readies herself for a fight. Her senses hone in on the sounds, surroundings, and identifying quickest escape routes as Toji pulled her in closer. She feels the end of a blade pressing against her back. Slowly, she reaches up between her thighs to grip one of her daggers, ready to defend herself, even if all she could do was cut him and get away. “How about you come with me, away from prying eyes...then, we can really get to know each other-” Toji looked down to see Naraka’s hand between her thick thighs and smiles against her ear, “Are you already starting without me? Especially here, for all these people to see? You are a nasty slut.” He surprises her, licking the side of her ear and growling, sending a current of electricity straight to her core. What the fuck!? Get yourself together, he knows! Get out-NOW! He's as strong as Gojo Satoru! “I at least thought we’d end up back at your place before the fun. I didn’t think you were this bold.” Naraka stills. This pinche cabrón really  thinks I’m going to go with him quietly? “Oh,” she purrs, feigning a question as a grin settles across her lips, “ Do I look like a proper lady to you?I’m sure you’re smarter than you look...I’m not your average woman, el grande.” Toji chuckled against her ear, pressing the point of his blade further into her back. She could hear the predatory venom laced in his words, “Oh, Angel Face, I noticed immediately you weren’t average...you must be one powerful bitch if you have that Magnum 357 under your skirt.” Naraka’s eyes widen, dilating with the rush of adrenaline, shocking her system. Shit, get the fuck out! GET OUT NOW! Before Naraka could pull the dagger out, Toji crushes her body into his, hugging her tight, making them look like a couple embracing, “Don’t make a fucking scene, Princess. Like I said, let's go somewhere more...intimate.” She can only do what he wants her to do at this point. Cold-hearted? Absolutely, but not by any means a murderer of innocent people. “Alright, let’s go, show me this more intimate space you had in mind. I don’t like playing the helpless damsel...besides, I haven’t trained today, so you’ll be doing me a favor.” Naraka feels Toji begin to steer her in the direction of an alleyway that leads to abandoned warehouses beside the busy streets.

Once he’s satisfied with the distance between them and the crowd, he pushes her forward with staggering force. Naraka stumbles forward, “Hey, I would have walked you know...especially since my cover was blown.” Toji laughs, “Please, you would have run, you’re smart enough to recognize when you’re out of your depth.” She straightens up, rolling her neck on her shoulders, “You really think I’m that weak?” The sound of her neck popping sends anticipatory tremors down her spine as she turns to look at Toji, “Que dijo? I’m not your average woman.” She caresses her thick thighs up to the hem of her skirt, catching Toji’s attention, and slips her hands beneath the fabric to reach for her blades; she decides to save the revolver as a last resort. With whiplash speed and precision, she slings her daggers at Toji, distracting him for a split second before she sprints forward, barreling into his core with a high knee kick, making Toji stumble back and double over grunting before righting himself. She recenters herself a few feet away from him, her hands up in a defensive stance as she waits for him to come back at her. The sound of his low, mocking laughter ripples through her before the flash of his sweater is all she can see, his movements too quick to follow before the impact. He runs into her, picking her up to tackle her into a pile of old pallets, making them splinter beneath their weight. Toji lands one good blow to the side of her face before grabbing her throat. “You sneaky cunt you think that kick was going to what...hurt me? I thought you were going to come at me with all you’ve got.” Toji squeezes the fingers around her windpipe tighter, causing her vision to blur. “You’re nothing but another weak, good for nothing, whore.”His grip is tight, holding Naraka down as her mind begins to rage. This motherfucker is fucking DEAD! Fuck this shit! Through the pain searing in her throat, with deadly precision, Naraka wraps her muscular thighs around his neck and grabs his arm into a lock, pulling out from beneath him, trying to snap the bone, forcing him to release her throat. With a swift kick from her legs, she’s able to throw him off balance and roll out from beneath him, back into a defensive stance out of the debris of destroyed pallets. Catching her breath, Naraka looks at him with deadly brown eyes, “You, fucker, you think this is a fucking game of the weak? Save your laughter and weak ass insults for a bitch who fucking cares. Your problem is you don't want to admit I’m a threat because I’ve got a pussy.” Naraka smirks, glaring at him as his shoulders roll back, bringing him to his full height and smirking right back at her, “Lucky for you, I’m in the mood to teach a useless meat sack to kneel.”

She wipes the blood from her chin with the back of her hand, swiping her tongue across her lower lip and tasting the familiar metallic flavor in her mouth. “Though I’ll admit, no man has gone this hard on me in a while...usually, even in bed, I’m the one who runs shit.” Toji stood and began to brush off the debris from his sweater. “No weakling has been my punching bag...well, at least for a hot minute.” Naraka reaches beneath her skirt again, pulling out the last of her blades, wielding them at the ready. Toji’s eyes travel the length of her body, “You know...you're pretty fucking sexy...especially for a dead bitch.” Toji brushes the last of the debris off of his sweater, bringing his hands to rest at his side, “Tell me, are you ready to die for a job? For a crime syndicate that doesn’t give a shit whether you live or die?” Naraka smiles wide showing her pearly white gappy teeth, baring her gremlin like grin, she must look certifiably insane to Toji, “I have nothing nor anyone to live for...I like hearing the screams and cries for mercy when I get to cut down worthless fuckers like yourself.” Toji laughs loud enough for his baritone to echo off the surrounding empty buildings. “Finally, someone who’s worthy, I’ve been waiting a long time to butt heads with the likes of you. Maybe you’ll surprise me and give me something that makes me feel.”  Naraka wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, it feels like a current of excitement intertwining with thin threads of what seemed like, hope? Not a feeling she’s used to, but she pushes it aside, ready for him to come at her with everything he had, “Are you gonna talk the whole time or are you gonna shut the fuck up and come at me big boy.” Toji walks away from the debris and readies himself, his posture extending to stand, what seemed like, ten inches taller.

Naraka braces herself, making sure her revolver is ready as she watches Toji reach behind him and pull forth a large blade. Shit! The cursed tool I was warned about. She knows it has the potential to inflict some serious pain and she’s going to have to put forth all her efforts to come out of this alive. The smile that splays across both their faces is truly horrific and beautiful, yet chilling to normal passerby. The levels of their predatory and survival instincts in full swing were tangible in the atmosphere. With one more breath, it’s instant, Toji lunges and Naraka fends off each swing and slash from Toji’s weapon with nothing but her strength and small blades. When she catches his blade, stopping it with the top of her shoulder, she feels him pull, letting the edge of the cursed object open her skin, searing her nerve endings with instant pain. She jumps back and grabs her shoulder, grunting as she fights to push it to the back of her mind. “That blade packs a punch, big boy. You even cut my favorite jacket up.” Naraka stands and shakes her arm out before returning to her defensive stance, “So considerate of you to wait on me...oh wait, a-are you getting tired?” She chuckles and hears him growl, “Awe, is Big Boy grumpy?” She giggles like a schoolgirl when Toji lunges once again. She dodges and fights off each of his attacks, the clangs from their blades meeting, and their grunts and curses of exertion echoing throughout the warehouse yard. This time her daggers cut into his sweater and kiss the skin beneath his shirt. She watches as small droplets of blood blossom upon the fabric of his oversized sweater. “Now, look at what you’ve done. You’ve ruined one of my favorite sweaters.” Toji stabs his blade into the ground beside him and pulls the sweater off, discarding it to the ground below, glaring at the small slash across his abdomen that was hugged by a tight-fitting black T-shirt. Naraka saw every muscle, every valley, and dip of his broad chest. Her arousal spreads through her bloodstream like poison, each beat of her heart sending it pulsing through her blood stream. “Well, well, well, Big Boy has looks.” She smirks at him and licks her lips, stalking him like a ravenous lioness, hungry for her prey. “Sad, I was thinking about making you scream my name before I let you bleed out beneath me.” This time Naraka lunges at Toji, a perfect opportunity since he was disarmed. She catches his forearm and slices, watching his arm bleed as she smiles wider knowing that she surprised him. Toji fends off her attacks and eventually disarms her, leaving her with nothing but her fists. She lands a couple of blows to his torso and face. Toji doesn’t realize she’s drawing him further away from his blade and her hand-to-hand combat is top tier. Toji swings, catching her by the mouth as he chuckles, thinking for sure she was going to hit the ground, knocked out cold, when Naraka stumbles in front of him and spits the blood pooling in her mouth onto the ground below. She looks up with killer determination, glaring at Toji, “You take punches like a good cunt. I wonder what else you can take?” Naraka’s glare alone would have curdled a civilian’s stomach. Toji feels his cock twitch at the sight of her standing her ground after taking a full punch to the face.

His gaze follows her body as she straightens up, pulling her ruined denim jacket off. His eyes widen at the ripples of sinew that accentuate her curves moving in sync as she stretches her arms above her head and settles into her defensive stance. He finally understood, this woman can take a full-on barrage of punches and kicks because of the machine that was her body. He licks his lips, his erection beginning to strain against his pants. I want to break this woman. He watches as Naraka reaches down, tearing open the side of her skirt to reveal the hidden Magnum 357 on her thigh harness. Watching her rip the fabric to create space for her thick thighs only made him salivate like Pavlov’s dog. “Like what you see Big Boy?” Her fingers wrap around the base of her Revolver and she holds it up, opening the chamber and spinning it for effect. “You know I thought you’d be more vicious with me. I’m actually kind of let down that you weren’t rougher.” Naraka whips the chamber closed and pulls the hammer back on the gun. Toji, clearly turned on by the woman in front of him, grabs his blade and brings it in front of him, “I guess you really are choosing to be another dead bitch then.” Naraka smiles back at him, “Make me cry pendejo.”

Without another word Naraka shoots off a couple rounds, one of them grazing his arm, as he dodges with superhuman grace that made her head spin. He didn’t slow down in her direction, he’s already on her fast and heavy, crashing into her and knocking the wind out of her, causing the revolver to fumble out of her grasp and clatter on the ground. Her back hits the wall of the crumbling warehouse and she grunts at the pain. Toji holds her small body up by her throat and puts a thick muscular thigh between her center before bringing his cursed tool to trace the valley between her breasts up to her cheek. “You have such beautiful copper skin,” the feeling of the cool blade biting into her should’ve sparked something like panic, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. “It looks better when it’s bleeding,” he continued. She bites her lip trying to hold in her muffled screams but the pain is too great. Her eyes clench as the sound ripples from her throat, reverberating off the walls around them as Toji smirks. “There’s the sound I've been waiting for. Let’s hear it again, hmm?” He lifts the blade away from her chest, only to bring it back down onto her shoulder. It’s ironic how gently he delivers the seething pain with a slow slicing movement. Leading the tip of his blade towards her collarbone. She unleashes another guttural scream, squirming to fight for a way to get out of his monstrous vice grip. Her vision is becoming dark around the edges but she looks into his eyes and watches him come close, his hot breath across her lips while she grabs his wrist in an attempt to pull herself up. “You look so good in a helpless position...it makes me want to really break you like the worthless whore you are, Angel face.” Toji licks up the fresh blood on her wounded cheek before crashing his full lips onto hers. She moans at the taste of copper upon his tongue as he takes her mouth, letting his strong muscle fight and compete with hers. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!

Naraka feels her arousal engulf her as she relaxes, moaning into Toji’s mouth. Her core becomes slick and soaks through her panties as she moves her hands up to entangle in his straight black hair, pulling his head back. He hisses with the pain of her nails digging into his scalp as Naraka breaks the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and biting to draw blood. He growls as she relinquishes his mouth and Toji moves his blade to the top of her shirt, slowly letting the cool edge of the blade open another cut across her sternum making her scream turning into a pleasurable moan, “You taste so good on my lips, just like the bitch in heat I know you are, I want more.” He presses his body into her, dropping his head down to the open cut and licking around the wound, still pinning her against the wall with his strong chokehold and muscular thigh. “F-fuck, I want to fucking hear you cry my name-” Naraka hooks her legs around his center and pulls him in tighter, casuing his hips to dig into her aching cunt allowing her to feel how hard his dick has been this entire time. She rolls her hips just enough against his erection and he shudders as she moans from the friction she craved, “F-Fuck!” Toji hears her purring moan at the action of her rolling her hips into his cock and he’s unable to control himself. He takes the blade and cuts through her shirt and bra, her heavy breasts springing free, heaving with each laboured breath. He watches her skin flash with goosebumps from the cool air caressing her bare torso. 

He smiles wider, licking his lips in anticipation like the ravenous predator he was. “You nasty whore, your nipples are pierced...tell me, how does it feel if I-'' Toji takes the edge of his blade and catches one end of the piercing, making it reverberate when he flicks the bar. Naraka’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she moans, squeezing his waist tighter between her muscular thighs, “Y-yesss,” she hisses, before looking back to see Toji dip his head down to one of her exposed tits and stick his tongue out to swirl around the light brown flesh before flicking the piercing and latching on to suck and swirl while grinding his cock into her center harder. Toji finally let go of her throat and she takes the opportunity to grab his thick tresses again and pull his head back, “I’m gonna make you cry bitch.” She head butted Toji, hearing a crunch, and forced him to stumble back crying out at the pain. Once she catches herself and leans up against the wall for support, she catches her breath and slips the wrecked top and bra off. “You know that was my favorite lace bra...I guess we’re even, asshole.” Toji stands and wipes the blood from the broken nose, groaning. Naraka runs at him, jumping up, and wrapping her legs around his head. His face between her thighs, she uses  her force and weight to take him to the ground onto his back. Toji doesn’t miss a beat, latching his arms around her thighs while taking in her scent, “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.” He dives into her center and grinds his face into her drenched pussy. Naraka shudders at the feeling of his face grinding into her, rolling her hips into him making him growl against her, she feels him bring his hands to her center, “These are fucking useless.” He rips her fishnets and grabs her soaked panties to tear them off. Naraka clenches, gasping at the action of the fabric being torn away. She grabs a fistful of his hair again as he licks a wet strip from her opening to her clit. Toji moans as he tastes the slickness of her arousal that coats her thighs, “Look at you, you’re such a fucking mess,” Toji swirls his muscle around her clit, “Such a fucking cock tease, a worthless, fucking whore.” Toji tastes more of her, knowing full well the shit talking and degradation was making her come undone. Naraka looks down and holds his head down, her eyes blown out, “Shut the fuck up and get fucked Big Boy.” She doesn’t hesitate, suffocating him with her pussy, feeling his muscle work wonders against her engorged clit, “Yess, hnngggh, so fucking good.” He sucks and tastes with open mouth kisses on her thighs and digs his fingernails in as he keeps going back for more. She’s at the precipice of her orgasm when Toji pulls back and bites her thigh hard, drawing blood, making Naraka convulse and cry out cumming in his face, “Fuck you!!! OH FUCK, OH FUCK!!!” She squeezes his head between her strong thighs, letting him tongue fuck her entrance as she clamps down, making him moan into her, tasting the intoxicating mix of her orgasm and blood.

Toji feels her grip release from his hair as her legs begin to relax around his head. Reaching up, he clutches her throat and rolls her to her back, slamming her into the ground. Taking her lips, he hitches her leg up on his side, “I’m going to break you and watch you fucking come undone. You. Are. Nothing.” Toji watches as Naraka’s breath catches, her eyes rolling in the back of her head again, “But you know what...I think you’d look better from behind, face in the dirt.” He pulls her up by her throat, taking her lips again as he fists her hair and stands to make her get on all fours. Naraka moans at the feeling of her hair being pulled with so much force. Her knees being scraped open and bleeding into the dirt, as his fingernails dig into her scalp. Forced onto all fours she looks up at him and watches his eyes flash before he gets behind her and shoves her face into the dirt below. Naraka feels the debris from the dirt enter her open wound and screams in agony and pleasure as he grinds the side of her face deeper into the ground, “That’s right bitch, fucking scream for me.” Toji pulled his cock out, slick from his own arousal, and pumps a few times while he grinds Naraka’s face in more and more into the dirt below. He watches as her tight whole clenches, beckoning him, it makes him quiver as he guides his thick cock into her entrance.

She takes in the feeling of the pain and pleasure as he puts all his strength into grinding her face into the ground. She feels him tear her fishnets more as his rough, thick digits slide and explore her drenched slit before diving into her plush walls and feeling her clench at the roughness of the pads of his fingers pump in and out. Naraka hears him groan before she looks back from the ground to see the large and heavy cock that he was pumping with his free hand. She moaned at the sight of his shirt lifted, eyeing the veins on his adonis belt as he clenches while stroking. When she feels the fat head of his cock at her entrance, she moans and cries out when he thrusts into her, bottoming out inside of her. “F-Fuck, so fucking tight.” As Toji drags out, Naraka can feel the prominent vein beneath his dick hitting all her walls. She doesn’t have a chance to absorb all of the feeling before he thrusts back in, bruising her swollen lips. “I- hah- I didn’t think a yakuza slut would be this fucking t-tight...Oh fuck.” Naraka moans out and claws at the dirt, “Fuuck, Shut the fuck up, and fuck me harder; I thought you were fucking brutal not, ahhhhh, a soft little bitch.” Toji thrust in and out at a harder pace and grabs her hair, wrenching her up to force her to arch her back. He digs his nails into her hip as Naraka feels every blow, his girth and length bruising her cervix. “F-fuck! That’s it Big Boy, hnnnngh, Show me what you got! You won’t break me.”

“Hah-mmmm. Listen to you,” he growls, “You’re such a fucking brat! Shut the fuck up and take this cock.” Toji reaches around her chest and pulls her into his muscled chest, feeling her grab onto his forearm and dig her nails into his flesh as he continues the vicious thrusts of his cock, shoving his fingers into her mouth. Naraka tastes herself on his fingers and grunts with every touch to her cervix by Toji’s cock. Her saliva begins to pool in her mouth as she’s being gagged by his thick fingers and it begins to overflow, past her lips and down her throat. Her spine starts to coil and become taught from the earth shattering orgasm that’s at its tipping point, she begins to feel Toji’s cock twitch inside of her. “That’s it bitch, you sound better when your fucking mouth’s full of my fucking fingers, hah-, fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna fucking spray your insides with me and ruin this fucking pussy!” Harder and harder he thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against her, “Fucking touch yourself and make yourself cum on this cock, DO IT NOW.” Naraka, wanting her release, reaches down with one hand and begins to put pressure on her clit, circling around her aching bundle of nerves. “F-Faster, make yourself fucking come. You better fucking come right fucking now or I’ll fucking kill you.” She moans against his fingers and feels her walls begin to convulse and clench around his hard cock when she hears him throw his head back and with one more violent thrust into her turn her pink insides white with his thick seed. “FUUUCCKKK!” Toji spills himself inside of her and feels her walls clench down, milking him for every drop he’s worth. He begins to shudder and groan at the feeling of her taking his soul from him. Toji let her go and holds onto her hips as she falls forward, moaning with a primal cry, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

Naraka sees stars behind her eyelids as she closes them to catch her breath, with Toji’s cock still inside her still semi hard, she opens them again when she feels his grip relax. This is my chance to knock him out and run. Naraka takes the chance and pulls away slowly standing up. Toji watches as she turns toward him, brushing his hair, damp with sweat away from his eyes. His head hitting her shoulders she smiled wickedly, “You were the best fuck I’ve ever had Toji Fushiguro.” She was so short she just grabbed the back of his head and brought his lips towards her while he was on his knees, when she breaks the kiss she looks at him, “I guess I’ll let you live another day.” He never notices the brass knuckles attached to her fist when she puts all her force into knocking him unconscious. It’s the last thing he sees as his vision blackens and he’s out cold on the ground with his pants around his knees. Naraka chuckles and drops the brass knuckles beside him, “Goodnight Toji, consider your debt paid.” She straightens herself out, cleaning up as much as she can, and walks toward his cut and bloodied sweater, “I’ll just take this as a souvenir, I need a shirt anyways. Can’t walk around half naked.” Putting his sweater on, she leaves him behind in the dirt and smiles while tracing her bruised lips with her fingertips. Before getting too far she stops, backtracking toward his unconscious body. “You know, el grande, I don’t think you’ll need this either.” She reaches into his pants and takes the cash she attempted to swipe earlier. “Well, can’t make it too easy on you. Good luck getting home” She smirks, nudging his mound of a body with her boot as she stashes the cash in her thigh harness. She can’t help but laugh as she walks back towards the bustling sea of people out of the shadows feeling the ghost of his touch against her face. She lets a whisper of a thought graze across her mind, I hope he finds me again one day, knowing full well she’s ignited the spark to an overwhelming fire.

[slowly-writing]

I’ll Always Love You

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1369

Requested by: anonymous

Warning: Angst, Major Character Death

The first time Wanda notices something is off you’re making dinner after getting home from work.

She walks up behind you as you’re stirring the pasta and wraps her arms around your waist. She notices you’re a bit skinnier than you were but doesn’t think much of it. You insisted the two of you start eating healthier when you moved into the compound with her. Her job often involved a lot of junk food and take out, and you were convinced it would send her into an early grave. So you both must just be getting a bit healthier.

“Hey, darling. How was your day?” You ask and she smiles, all of her worries forgotten.

“Tony lit Bruce on fire with an explosion in the lab. We almost had a code green on our hands after that one. So you know, just a regular day at the office,”  Wanda says with a laugh.

“Please tell me nobody got hurt,” you say with a sigh and she places a kiss on your cheek.

“Nobody got hurt. I swear, they’re all okay,” she promises and you nod.

“Good. Dinner’s ready,” you give her a quick kiss before carrying the food over to the table.

“It looks delicious, my love. Thank you for cooking,” she says and you smile.

“Of course. You better eat up quick before all the other heathens come in and steal it,” you tease and she laughs.

“You’re right. I work with a team of animals.”

“Who are you calling animals? Oooo dinner,” Clint says, quickly proving Wanda’s point.

“There’s extra on the stove,” you offer, having known this would happen, and within minutes it turns into a full team dinner.

“Heard you got set on fire,” you say to Bruce who rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Bruce yells and you laugh, pushing your plate away a bit as you engage in conversation. Wanda frowns at your almost full plate that you’re obviously finished with. She doesn’t like that you aren’t eating, but she’s not about to scold you for it. You’re a big girl, you can figure out how to feed yourself.

xxxxxx

The next time Wanda notices something is off is a few weeks later she was off for the weekend and you both decided to spend a lazy Saturday in. The two of you were sleeping in and Wanda woke up around nine. She glanced down to where you rested with your head on her chest and smiled, content to sit there and run her fingers through your hair as you slept.

After reading the book that had been sitting on her nightstand for a while she began to get hungry and gently removed herself from you. She frowns when she notices it was almost eleven. You never sleep in this late, but she decides to let you rest and get herself some food.

Around one Wanda made her way back into the bedroom and gently shook your shoulder to wake you. She frowns at how warm you are

“My love, are you feeling okay?” She asks softly as you open your eyes “you’ve been sleeping for a while.”

“I’m good,” you said with a hum, “what time is it anyway?”

“It’s a bit after one,” she says and you furrow your brow.

“Huh, I guess I was tired. It’s been a long week,” you mumble, climbing out of bed.

xxxxx

The next week Wanda was gone on a mission. She had been gone for three days and you were waiting in the hanger as her jet landed. As soon as she stepped off the plane you ran over, jumping into her arms. She laughed and spun you around before pausing. She never had an issue lifting you, she could throw a car across a field with the flick of her wrist, but it’s never been this easy to pick you up.

“Love, have you lost weight?” She asks gently and you tilt your head to the side as she sets you down, her hand settling on your waist.

“I….I don’t….don’t think so. Why?” You ask, slightly out of breath. Her hand tightens around your hip a bit and she sighs.

“You’re all skin and bones. You feel lighter than you used to. And why are you out of breath?” She asks and you cross your arms.

“Not all of us can be superheroes who can run miles at a time without getting tired,” you grumble defensively and she cups your cheek.

“That’s not what I’m saying, my love. You’ve been off for a few weeks now and I’m worried about you,” she explains and you shrug slightly.

“I just haven’t been feeling great. I might be a little nauseous maybe, but I’m sure it’ll go away soon,” Wanda frowns are your dismissive tone.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No doctors, Wan. I hate them. I’m fine!” You argue.

“Please, love. I’m starting to get really worried,” Wanda begs, tears gathering in her eyes and that broke you. You brush your thumb across her cheek before nodding silently.

xxxxx

“Okay, I’m going to have to do a bone marrow test,” Dr Cho says and your eyes widen. She had asked you a few questions and done a routine exam, and then made this decision.

“No you don’t! Why the hell would you need to do that?” You yell and Wanda takes your hand, standing next to you and letting you lean into her side.

“Your symptoms could be a lot of things, and I need to figure out what it is. I know you’re scared, but I need to do the test,” she says and you look up at Wanda, fear evident in your eyes.

“You’ll be okay, my love. I’ll be right here the whole time,” she promises and you nod, moving to lay on your side.

“You’re going to feel a pinch, and I’m gonna need you to stay still,” Doctor Cho says, sending a look to Wanda who places one hand on your leg and the other on your shoulder. You feel a needle enter your side and you go to flinch away.

“Hey, look at me. Look right at me,” Wanda says, holding you still as tears start streaming down your face.

“It hurts,” your voice comes out somewhere between a groan and a scream, and Wanda’s heart breaks.

“I know, love. Just a few more seconds,” she promises, holding eye contact in hopes of distracting you.

“I’m all done. You two can go, I’ll call you with results when I have them,” Dr. Cho promises after a few minutes and you nod.

“You feeling okay? We can skip movie night so you can rest,” Wanda offers as she leads you towards the elevator to leave the med floor.

“No, I’m okay. I just wanna cuddle up with you and relax, I can do that at movie night. Plus we haven’t gotten a chance to hang out with the whole team in forever and I refuse to be the reason plans fall through again,” you tease and Wanda chuckles.

“Hey lovebirds!” Clint teases as the elevator doors open to the common room.

“I take it back, we’re skipping movie night.”

“No! We’ve missed you guys. I promise I’ll shut up!” Clint begs and you roll your eyes.

“We have missed you though, it’s been a while since we’ve all hung out. How is it that we all live in the same building yet we never see each other?” Nat says and you smile.

“You guys always leave me to go off and save the world. It’s selfish really,” you say, unable to hold back your laugh as Wanda throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side as she laughs as well.

“You’re right. We really should think about others more,” Tony says and the team all breaks out laughing.

You spend most of the night catching up rather than watching a movie. Steve nervously tells you all about a date he went on and Clint shows you all pictures of his kids. Bruce and Tony talk about the lab developments they’ve made. Nat is halfway through a story about her last mission when your phone rings.

“Who is it?” Wanda asks and you glance at the phone.

“I don’t know, it’s not a number I have saved. I’ll be right back,” you excuse yourself and walk a few steps away before answering.

“Hello? Who is this?” You say, the others kindly quiet down so you talk.

“It’s Dr. Cho, we got your lab results back. I have some bad news, I'm afraid. We….my team and I believe you have lymphoma,” the rest of her sentence is lost on you as your phone slips out of your hand. The sound of it clattering to the floor draws Wanda’s attention back towards you. She glances over and sees you frozen, jaw hanging down slightly and staring at your friends, but not seeing them at all.

“Love, what’s happening? What’s going on?” She asks but you don’t respond, you just keep staring. She’s quick to pick the phone up off the ground, terrified of who could be on the other line. “Who is this?”

“What’s going on? Is somebody threatening you?” Nat asks, everyone immediately going into mission mode.

“No…no that was Dr. Cho,” Wanda’s voice is barely audible as she quietly pockets your phone and steps in front of you and tries to hold your gaze. She places her hands on your shoulders and ducks a bit to meet your eyes.

“Why are you both so freaked out over a call from a doctor?” Steve asks nervously. A threat from hydra they could handle, but he fears they may be way out of their depth here.

“I have cancer,” you mumble, the statement almost sounds like a question and your eyes are still glazed over.

“You what?” Clint asks, disbelief clear in his voice.

“I have cancer,” you say again, eyes meeting Wanda as tears begin to fall. You start to shake and she quickly takes you into her arms before your legs can give out.

“Banner, call Dr Cho up here. We’re figuring this out right now!” Tony calls before stepping closer to you, “hey, guys it’s gonna be okay. We can figure this out. I’m sure we caught it early and everything will be fine.”

The first thing Dr Cho asks when she gets to the floor is if you’re okay discussing this in front of everyone. You let out a shaky yes as Wanda helps you sit down.

“We ran your bone marrow through some tests and as I said on the phone, I have some unfortunate news. You have lymphoma-”

“But you caught it early. So she’ll be okay, right?” Tony cuts her off and Dr Cho sighs.

“Unfortunately, no. It’s quite advanced. It’s rare that we catch it this late, there’s usually signs. Fatigue, weight loss, loss of appetite, and fevers to name a few,” she says and you can hear Wanda take a sharp breath.

“No,” she says under her breath and all eyes are on her, but she’s only looking at you. “You said you were okay. You said….you said you just weren’t hungry. I thought you had a long week at work. You said you were fine!”

The pain is so clear in her voice and you feel your heart crack, “I thought I was.”

“How far along is it?” Bruce asks and you see Dr Cho shift uncomfortably.

“It’s stage four,” she says.

“Out of how many stages?”  Steve asks quietly, scared of the answer.

“Out of four,” she tells him, and you can feel the tears falling down your cheeks.

Everyone in the room falls silent as they stare at each other. None of them know what to say, because what can you say to a girl who’s just been handed a death sentence?

xxxxx

“How are you feeling today?” Steve asks cheerfully as he sits next to you and Wanda on the couch. You’re curled into her side as she runs her hand through your hair.

“Bad,” you mumble, sinking further into Wanda’s embrace.

“She started chemotherapy this morning. It’s making her a bit nauseous,” Wanda explains, careful not to jostle you too much.

“A bit more than a bit,” you say grumpily, “I feel like someone poured acid into my stomach.”

“Technically there is already acid in your stomach,” Steve says, but your glare shuts him up, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Is there anything I can do, my love?” Wanda asks and you look up at her.

“Do the magic,” you beg hopefully and she chuckles.

“You make me sound like Elsa,” she teases before bringing her hand to your temple. You close your eyes and smile as images start playing through your head. She starts by showing you memories of the two of you. You see your first date and the day she asked you to move in. Then it shifts to things that haven’t happened. You see Wanda in front of you with a ring. Next the two of you are in fluffy white dresses. You smile at the thought and suddenly you see you and Wanda, a sleeping child in her arms. The image fades away and you blink the tears away, smiling up at her sadly.

“I’m sorry we’ll never get to have that,” you whisper and she frowns.

“Don’t say that. Everything is going to be okay. I can feel it,” she says, cradling your face in her hands and brushing your tears away. “You’re going to get better, and the second you do we’re going to start our future together.”

“Wanda,” you say, voice cracking already.

“Just don’t,” she cuts you off, “please don’t.”

You nod. You know what the future holds for you, but she’s not ready to face that, and you can respect that for now.

xxxxxx

“Hey babe, are you almost ready?” Wanda calls from the hallway. The whole team is going out to the movies. Steve said something about it being good for public opinion if they saw the avengers doing normal human things. You’re currently standing in the bathroom, looking down and the clumps of hair in your hand that fell out when you were brushing your hair.

“Uh yeah. One second!” you call back, grabbing a beanie off your dresser and pulling it on.

“It’s really not that cold,” Clint teases as you walk into the common room and you falter a bit, shrinking into Wanda’s side.

“I just like this hat, okay?” you say softly and he furrows his brow but takes the hint to leave it be.

“Yo, what’s with the hat? It’s like 80 degrees out,” Tony teases as he walks in with the remainder of the team.

“My hair’s falling out, okay!” you yell, staring at the floor as the room falls silent.

“Hey, I think the hat looks awesome,” Nat says after a few minutes and you smile, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“So do I. I think you’re beautiful no matter what. With or without hair,” Wanda says and you nod, eyes still cast towards the floor, but you take her hand.

“Thanks. Can we just go?” you look up at her and she nods.

“Of course. Let’s get going.”

xxxxx

“Hey Nat,” you say softly, and she glances up from her book with a smile.

“Hey you’re awake, how are you feeling?” She asks and you shrug. Last week you permanently moved into the med wing. The treatments weren’t working and you were getting worse by the day. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud.

“I’m fine. I need to ask you a favor,” you say and she sets her book aside.

“Of course. Anything you need,”she says, she has a smile on her face but you know it’ll drop off soon.

“I need you to take care of Wanda,” you say softly.

“I don’t-“ Natasha tries to stop you but you cut her off.

“No. Let me finish. We all know what’s coming. I’ll be lucky to make it to the end of the week, and I’ve never been that lucky,” you say with a slight chuckle, but there’s little humor in it. “When I’m gone she’s going to be a wreck and I love her too much to let this destroy her. She’s lost too much already, and I hate that I’m going to be another thing she’s lost, so please just promise me you’ll look after her.”

“I promise,” Natasha says, gently taking your hand. You both have tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you,” you whisper and she nods at you.

“We all love you both. We’re not going to let her slip away.”

“I love you guys too,” you say softly, “I wish we had more time.”

“We don’t know what we have left. So we’re going to cherish every moment until they’re gone. It’s the only thing we can do,” she says gently as Wanda walks back into your room.

“What’s with all the tears?” She asks as she sits on the edge of your bed, wiping the last tears from your face and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Just, saying goodbye I guess,” you say and you hear Wanda take a deep breath.

“Could you give us a minute?” she asks Natasha who nods, placing a kiss on the top of your head before she leaves. “Love, you don’t need to say goodbye, because you’re not going anywhere.”

“Wan, I love you and I love your optimism, but it’s time to step back into reality. Everyone’s done everything they can for me. This was stage four, it was doomed from the start. I wish it was different but it’s not. These are the cards we were dealt and they’re shit, but it’s what we have to play with. I don’t have the time I want, and I have to accept that,” you say, holding her hand tightly as her tears begin to fall.

“I’m not ready for you to leave yet,” she says softly and you pull her into your arms. “Why are you so ready to go?”

“I’m not,” your voice is barely above a whisper, “I’m not ready to go. I have things I still want to say and every night I fall asleep and I’m terrified that I won’t get to say them. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I’m going to go whether I say it or not.”

“I have something I need to give you,” she says softly, “I told myself I was gonna wait until you got better. I had this whole plan, but I think I should give it to you now.”

She pulls out of your arms and reaches into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls out a little velvet box. You feel your breath hitch as she opens it.

“I had this whole speech. I was going to tell you how I love you more than anything in the world. How I want to spend the rest of my life with you. How we already have the ‘in sickness and in health’ part worked out and we could handle anything else life throws at us. I wanted us to move out of the compound, get a little apartment, maybe a farm like Clint, and start a family. I guess maybe none of that matters now, but I still wanted you to see it,” she says with a smile on her face. You have tears streaming down your face and so many emotions whirling around in your head. This was supposed to be the happiest moment of your life, but it wasn’t. All you could think about was everything you were missing.

“I would’ve said yes. I would’ve loved it,” you whispered and she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple as you spoke. “Promise me you’ll move on.”

“Love, I can’t-“

“Yes you can. I’m not saying you need to go out and find someone else tomorrow. But don’t shut the world out. Let the team help you, let them love you. And I’ll be waiting, wherever I am,” you say and she smiles.

“I’ll do my best. I promise I’ll let them in. I also promise that I’ll never forget you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. I’ll always love you,” she says and you smile up at her.

“I’ll always love you too. I promise,” you whisper and she smiles back, helping you lay down and settling down next to you.

“Rest now, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you look up at her again and she can see the fear in your eyes. The fear that you’ve worked so hard to hide over the last few months.

“What if I don’t wake up?” You whisper and she gently brushes her hand across your forehead, as if moving the hair that’s no longer present.

“Then I’ll catch up with you soon,” she promises and you nod, closing your eyes. She stays awake, watching you drift off to sleep and taking comfort in the gentle rise and fall of your chest. She holds you close as you rest, wishing she could keep you safe as the tears stream down her face. You look so peaceful, a small smile on your sleeping face as she gently traces her fingers up and down your arm. She lets that peaceful look comfort her hours later as the machines around her start to blare. She watches you slip away and she doesn’t try to stop the tears that fall as she’s ushered out of the room, looking at you one last time and saying a quiet promise “I’ll always love you.”

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @freerebel @prizmix-and-friends @m19friend @worlds-in-words @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[oooooocheshirecuntoooooo]

In the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere ..... Oh the adventures we had with a hooker. All. Night. Long. 😂

It involves me, my husband, our 18 & 3 year old daughters, a cop and the hooker ... oh and a store clerk and her son. And for real. All night from like 12:30am to 7 am. And now I am home, but without the van and three of the kids didn’t make it home with us.

The following story is absolutely, 100% true. Although it’s not the kind of exciting you’re used to hearing from me, it’s still pretty bizarre. 😂

Just to give a little back story to help paint a clear picture .... So, we always go to my in laws for Christmas but we usually only stay maybe 3-6 days or so depending on how things fall together. This year we decided to stay through New Years because of some drama back at our home. My mother lives on our property and is mentally ill, and we’re pretty sure dementia is setting in. She’s never been an easy person to be around and we have always fought constantly but I have tried to take care of her anyway because she’s the only mom I’ve got, ya know? The last couple years though she’s gotten a lot more aggressive. In July she assaulted her doctor over the mask requirement and even had to go to court over it. Then in august she assaulted me, tried to choke me to death in my own home and in front of my kids. Of course I over powered her and forcefully pushed her out of my house, so yes she sustained bruises and such from that but that’s the extent of it. (She told all of Facebook in a public post that I beat her up every day and that kind of thing. She posts almost every day that she’s being abused, etc. Shes called the police at least 4times in three months. She tried to accuse me of elder abuse and even said I neglect and abuse my kids. Four times they have come out and investigated and not only said they see no signs of child or elder abuse, or anything to backup her claims. They talked to the kids and quickly agreed they were all fine too.

So fast forward to Christmas Eve. We were trying to load up the van to leave for our trip. We couldn’t hardly get it done because she was hounding us so much. When we were done I sent the kids to the car while hubby and I grabbed the last few bags. I blinked and she was charging toward the kids and yelling things at them like “you’re going to be a whore like your mom when you grow up. You wanna suck dick for a living?” And “I hope you die slowly and are alone and afraid for hours before you die.” The oldest child there that day was 12. And no, I’ve never worked in prostitution before. She began to charge toward me when I yelled at her to get away from the kids. Hubby told her to go back in her house and she wouldn’t. Kept coming toward us. So he pulled out his pistol, didn’t cock it or anything, and said again to go back in her house. So she called the police again .... 🙄

So we stayed longer trying to talk to the family lawyer and get a game plan. We’re following through with pressing assault charges so I can get a restraining order, and we’re filing for eviction. So we got all packed and ready to go and noticed liquid under the van. The power steering pump went out and the line busted all over everything. So that set us back another couple of days but we got the line and the pump replaced and tested everything and it looked good. It was late but we decided to set out anyway. We knew we’d get in late but the advantage to that was my crazy mother would be asleep and we could at least get in and unload the van in peace.

About 12:30 the battery light came on and we weren’t near ANYTHING. Somehow we made it another 20 miles or so until we got to a small town we’ve never stopped in before. We stopped at a gas station and barely got in the lot when it died. Hubby tinkered with some things and it looks like the alternator. Apparently some power steering fluid got in it when it busted but we couldn’t see that at the time, including the mechanic neighbor friend helping with it.

So we’re an hour and a half from home and totally stranded in the middle of the night with, thankfully, only two of our kids - the 18 & 3 year old. We make the calls for roadside assistance and I begin calling everyone I know that might can come help us. It’s freezing and none of us packed coats because it’s not usually this cold down here this early in winter. Hubby was wearing shorts even. So we take turns going in the store and sitting in the van with our things - there’s a large fully loaded cargo bag on the roof and a bike rack with two bikes on the back. Figured if we left it alone for a long time those things at least would disappear, essentially given the atmosphere of the place.

In all the moving around and the cashier asking questions and getting to know us and the situation we were in, this big eyed, buck toothed, scraggly little older, black lady who looked like she hasn’t bathed in years starts talking to hubby about what’s wrong with the van. He goes back to tinker with it often hoping he’s wrong about the alternator or that he missed a loose connection - anything that might help us get out of here l, if not home. I am watching cars like a hawk because you wouldn’t believe how many would pull in, loop the parking lot while staring at us and leave again. It started feeling like sharks circling and a feeding frenzy building up. So I’m on edge and I make sure the pistol is within reach at all times. So this little trashy lady keeps talking to him about the mechanics and trying to troubleshoot it. Lemme pain a more accurate picture: this spun out little crack whore was chasing the dragon, looking for it inside the oil reserve, the transmission fluid ..... she keeps pulling out the dipsticks, shaking them like a Polaroid picture and slinging fluids everywhere and then says “I think it’s your starter.”

No doubt she’s trying to hustle some cash and once even asked for some gas money when’s we see the car she rode in pull away and leave her there. She said it was her brother. After awhile, hubby has had enough. He’s usually pretty patient with people who are too fucked up to reach reality but this isn’t the time for all that. Not only is she a hindrance, she keeps snatching his tools and once even his phone out of his hands. I was in the car and I heard him yell “carry your ass already!” If he’s talking to even an annoying stranger like that, I know shit is hitting the fan. Me? I’m Irish. I would’ve done popped off at her which is why I was avoiding her completely. So I got out and joined him and started yelling at her to fuck off. She will take a few steps away and come back but she does finally go all the way back in the store, both of us cussing her the whole way. I blink and she back in his face again. She keeps saying random shit like “anything you can do I can do better” and “I helped you and you just turn me away. That’s not what the Bible says” and “God got me. I don’t need you. I pray for you”

I’m beyond pissed. I’m cold —- and I loath being cold — and I’m tired, it’s now like 2:30 or 3, I’m feeling vulnerable just by being broke down and especially with the toddler who can’t do anything to protect herself or understand what’s going on and who is extremely sensitive to any type of anger or tension (she cries hysterically when her siblings tickle fight or pillow fight and are laughing) and with all I’ve been dealing with with my mom lately I just have no give a shit left in me. So I jump out and say loudly “should I get the gun for you?” He said “it’s starting to look like it.” And I handed it to him and he put it in his pocket - more just wanting to communicate and it wanting to draw on her because that could invite charges for him potentially and we already have enough legal drama waiting at home. She slowly starts walking backward and keeps running her mouth. I forget what she said but she flipped my bitch switch again and I found myself screaming “Don’t make me cut a bitch!”

She said “what did you say?” And I pulled out my pretty pink and Pearl, large and extremely sharp pocket knife and extended the blade, “I said if you don’t carry your ass I WILL cut a bitch!” She nodded that smug kind of nod and kept going, “aaaiiignt”

The car that brought her there and left came back. She got in it and it left, stopped about 20 feet from the parking lot and she appeared to be forcefully shoved out from the way she rolled in the grass. But she goes walking the other direction so we figured she was gone. Meanwhile though in that amount of time I already dialed 911. The operator connected me to the local station and I spoke to dispatch. I kid you not, less than 60 seconds later an officer was there. We later learned he parks in a dark spot across the street of this divided highway. He even saw some of the commotion but couldn’t tell from the angle that it was heated. He tells us all about her, how she’s the local “hooker” / crack whore, along with her sister and mother. When I said we could tell she was drunk or inebriated or something he said, “more like high as a kite in with a jet pack!” I have seen a lot of people high in my years but I’ve never seen anyone act like she was so I asked, “On what?” He just shrugged “likely a combination of things. She’s a non discernment, equal opportunity junkie.”

Would you believe she showed up again while he’s talking to us? She tried to act like they were friends “hey! I know you. You’re married to my kin ...” He kinda yells at her and smirks “you a damn lie and you know it. I’m not even married.” Tim and I both glanced at his hands, his wedding band plainly visible. I got back in the van because my teeth are chattering so bad I can’t speak anyway. He puts her in the back of his car and talks to my husband again. He tells him he’s use to her and is going to take her to a relatives house where she goes when she needs to sleep it off for a day or two. He leaves and about 20 minutes later he’s back. Apparently he almost ran out of gas and he wanted to check in on us again. The jokes flew about how awkward that would look if he ran out of gas and was on the side of the road with the town hooker and all. He was a really nice guy and stayed with us most of the rest of the night. He said he got off at 7 and if we still didn’t have any help to give him a call, giving us his cell number.

So, at the same time I’m trying to get something done about the tow truck that needs to come get the van and find someone to come get us. The first wrecker — BROKE DOWN ON THE WAY TO PICK US UP! I was starting to feel cursed! The second wasn’t informed this would be a “long haul” tow and he only does local. Third times the charm right? Apparently so this time. He was a nice guy as well and took extra steps to keep the bikes and things secure on the trip.

We even had talked to hubby’s parents when we very first broke down. They were asleep but I was able to text my kids that stayed behind to spend another day or two with them, and they were coming up anyway to do some work on the property up here and file the eviction. So the boy, who will be 11 tomorrow, and the 12yo girl woke them up and told them we broke down. Apparently the 8 year old had already gone to sleep. His parents got up and talked to us and they were like, we’ll work on it and let me know what you find out. What the insurance company will do. So when the tow truck showed up, at 4:30, we asked if one of them could come get us because all the insurance company said was “MAYBE a supervisor could make an allowance for a Lyft or something like that but it didn’t seem a highly probable option. I realize we were 3 hours from his parents but they got up and stayed up from the first time we called and father in law could’ve gotten us and most of our stuff in the van and gotten us home, and him back to his house, before lunch and then slept or done whatever work he felt was more important than our safety. I’m kinda ticked about that. So we get what things we can’t live without immediately and head into the store to wait for a solution to arise, or friends to wake up! I was the last one going in and I was shivering so bad I dropped the things in my hands. I bent down to pick them up when two large shoes stepped in to my view, directly in front of me.

I stand up and then continue looking up to find the eyes looking back at me - a huge ‘cornfed’ red neck man who almost is convincing at appearing to be tough as nails, but I see the gentle kindness in him immediately. However, when he named the itty bitty, no red light havin’ isolated little farm town we live in I was flabbergasted. I actually stuttered and just made noise instead of words when I tried to respond. He even chuckled and playfully’ mocked’ me but was even kind about it. It was more like he got a kick out of how taken off guard I was. He said “Do y’all need a ride to (hometown)?” in that extremely slow, drawn out way the redneck Southerns do. In a minute I nodded and said “How do you know that?” I continued walking in the store as I spoke and of course he followed and opened the door for me. Hubby had run back and flagged down the tow truck before it left, remembering the car seat was left in it and that would be essential to getting us home. He had already talked to the man but j didn’t know that. In fact, in all the in and out that night hubby and my older daughter had told the cashier bits and pieces of the situation and it hit a point where she realized help wasn’t coming very fast and didn’t want to see any more trouble fall on us like with the oh so classy hooker we had already met. So she called her son, knowing this was the kind of thing he was always looking to do. He kept telling us that he just really liked to drive and it was no big deal and that he had time to get us there and back home before work even. After debating over it for what felt like hours but was probably only 5 minutes hubby and I decided it was probably the smartest option. He usually has a pretty keen sense of a persons character pretty quickly and so does my 18 year old - although it still needs to be fine tuned a bit but that will come with time, maturity, and unfortunately, heartbreak. We felt like we had a read on the kind, older lady cashier too and she even said “It’s ok. He’s my son. He’s not gonna hurt you or anybody that doesn’t try to hurt him first.”, laughing the last few words out and the glances between them revealing some inside joke / event. So we went ahead and got in his little car - which was more like a jumbo Geo Tracker and I honestly wondered how he ever fit inside. It wasn’t the best looking thing, kinda shabby and needing a lot of TLC, but for us it may as well have been luxury. It was a diamond in the rough, symbolic of the man who offered to drive us an hour and a half to get us home, and then back, before he went to work that day. By the time we got him we knew his life story - 33 and already a survivor of the heart attack they call ‘the widow maker’. We instantly fell in and we’re good friends. By the time we got home - at 7am - we hated to see him go. Of course we had a little Christmas gift cash on us and gave him a little something for his trouble, especially since he wouldn’t come in and let me make him something for breakfast. As I hugged him bye I told him “I will forever call you ‘My Angel Michael’. He said, “Well thank you ma’am. It was my pleasure.” and with that, he drove away.

[jadekitty777]

The Thoughts We Carry

As promised, I had one entry near completion that I hoped be ready to post for @fairgameweek2021. I spent the last few days this week not getting enough sleep just to make the deadline (ssh I know it’s after midnight. Summaries are hard, okay?). I’m sorry I won’t have anything else ready in time, but I hope you all enjoy this one!

Day 4: Separation/Reunion

Dedicated to: @chiherah

Rating: K

Words: 6K

Summary: “I know everybody to some extent,” Qrow once told his nieces, and he hadn’t precisely been lying. At least, when it came to knowing other huntsmen in the four kingdoms, that is. Clover Ebi was just one of probably five-thousand examples. Yet, just as all shamrocks are clovers but not all clovers are shamrocks, all huntsmen are acquaintances but not all get to be friends.

That was why, upon arriving to Atlas, Qrow could tell there was more weighing on Clover’s mind than the Grimm addled streets of Mantle or Solitas’ fighter jet filled skies. More crushing, even, than the now-known threat of Salem on the horizon. A burden so great, it altered old routines and shadowed bright smiles.

And, as Qrow regarded the Aceops’ hasty roster change, he knew the solution to his friend’s plight was not one he’d need to seek, but one he’d need to bear.

Ao3 Link: The Thoughts We Carry

~

There were a few unanimous truths that came with being a huntsman:

The work was dangerous to the point most knew their future was beelining for a parking space in a graveyard.

Never falter in the heat of battle.

Keep bandages on hand because stemming an injury can extend a life from a few seconds to a few minutes.

Always know the best foods to forage in case civilization is too far or – worse yet – wiped out.

Pack light as work will require travel. It will require travel a lot.

Of all of them, the one Qrow was most familiar with was that last one. So much so, the towns he visited were just as much old friends to him as the people within them were. Vale and Patch were like playmates from primary school that were never forgotten no matter how much time had passed. Higanbaga was that party dude from university that always knew how to show him a good time. Atlas was that annoying classmate that he got stuck with one year on a group project and he was forced to put up with. And Mantle…

Mantle was that one struggling friend he knew could be doing better, if anyone would give it a break.

He felt that feeling in every swing of Harbinger, slicing through Grimm as he sidestepped potholes in the concrete and litter whirled up around his feet. Witnessed it when he peered through the city’s ever-present shadow to keep the kids in his line of sight, straining his ears to listen for the rest that shouts just blocks away nearly drowned out until they mysteriously stopped.

Despite knowing what it likely meant, he didn’t focus on it. He sheared through another Sabyr, and spun on his heels. Took in visual information in half a second: Weiss partially down an alleyway with Ren. Yang at his six. Blake a bit behind her. A Grimm leaping right for her.

His hand moved before his mind did, aiming Harbinger’s shotgun as Blake did the same with Gambol Shroud.

Another shot got it first.

A buzzing blast of green energy, not quite aura or dust, cleaved the beast in two. Similar shots rained from the sky, making quick work of the rest until the street was clear. The lampposts’ harsh red glows faded back to their calming yellow. From above, a drone expelling more green light rocketed up to the sky. As it hovered in the light of the moon and slowly floated down to ground level, its shape became more apparent and he could make out the features of a young girl with long, curling locks of ginger hair. Something about her was familiar.

It wasn’t until he heard Ruby’s choked gasp of “Penny?” that it clicked.

About a thousand questions rolled into his mind at once, but it was clear from the way his niece was suddenly bowled over by the enthusiastic android and the tears began to flow, that they’d have to wait.

After all, it wasn’t every day a cherished friend returned from the dead.

The other kids crowded around quickly, but Qrow couldn’t help but look to the one who lingered awkwardly on the sidelines, Oscar fidgeting with his cane the way Oz used to.

Something welled inside him that tasted a little like regret.

Not every day indeed.

~

It seemed ages before they started to make their way back to Pietro’s shop. Penny was deep in explanation on her miraculous revival, explaining how her memory chips had been recovered and her body repaired. In the back, Qrow let most of it float over his head. He wasn’t the only one.

“This is so… unexpected.”

He side-eyed Jaune, the blond’s face a mix of emotions that were hard to pin down. He couldn’t even begin to guess at what the other was trying to process. The joy of Penny’s return? The bitter unfairness it couldn’t happen for another that had been lost that day? The sorrow that Pyrrha now would never know that she hadn’t killed the android and could never make amends?

Whatever it was, it was definitely too much to handle on a regular day. Add two grueling battles, multiple aura breaks, and a long flight to Atlas on top of it all, it left little energy to deal with much else.

“But not unwelcome.” Qrow replied, catching his attention. “You don’t have to question the good things you get in life kid. You do that and you won’t stop to enjoy them.”

It was relieving it pulled out a small, but genuine, smile on the young man’s face. “That’s unusual advice coming from you.”

That’s because it wasn’t his.

Before he could think to respond, his sharp senses caught Ren tensing up. A sign he was detecting something.

His fingers were already halfway to his weapon when he heard it.

“Ah, and here I thought we had a problem. But it’s just Qrow again.”

His hand fell, a groan emitting from deep in his chest as he turned towards that painfully familiar voice. Sure enough, Clover and his poster squad of soldiers were heading their way. “Oh great, it’s you.”

“Salutations Captain Ebi!” Penny greeted with a salute.

"You know them Uncle Qrow?" Ruby asked. He could feel her curious stare burning through his cape.

"Yeah. They're Jimmy's attack dogs.” He scoffed at them. “Though considering we cleaned up this mess, they're more bark than bite."

Clover laughed, stopping just a few feet away. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?" He thumbed back the way they had come from. “Guessing you’re also the flyer of the unidentified Manta a mile west here, huh?”

“Uh, well,” He spluttered a bit, not sure how to explain that.

He didn’t have to, as the second-in-command spoke up for him, “I can’t believe you!” Harriet spat, quick in her temper as she was on her feet. “We almost deployed hostiles on that ship. You could have at least radioed in!”

“Well, see we woulda. ‘Cept our radio was on the fritz.” Yang stepped up beside him.

His other niece flanked his other side. “We didn’t mean to cause a stir, really.”

Qrow didn’t know whether to be proud of their synchronization, refined from years of getting out of groundings together, or concerned for their physical wellbeing as Elm’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh Qrow, don’t tell me these are your cute little nieces!” She was in his youngest niece’s space almost instantly, shaking her hand with such enthusiasm Ruby looked a little dizzy. “I’m Elm. Qrow’s told us so much!”

“He has?”

“Oh yes, once he gets going, he can never shut up about you two. It’s endearing.”

He did his best to ignore the teasing nudges Yang gave him or the flush working its way up his neck.

“Wait, hold up a second.” Another of the soldiers interjected. “You’re the Qrow Branwen? You don’t look anything like what I thought you would.”

As his eyes met with the other’s, Qrow realized with a start he didn’t know him. “And you are?” He spat a bit harder than he meant to.

He felt a little bad when it made the Faunus shrink back a bit, his wagging tail slowing. “I, erm-”

“Oh right, you haven’t met. This is our newest recruit, Marrow Amin. He’s a bit fresh, but has been an outstanding addition.” Clover spoke up, clapping a hand on his shoulder like a proud father. It was the slight twitch at the side of his mouth that gave away he was trying very hard not to drop his smile.

The kid definitely didn’t notice, his tail wagging at full speed once again.

Qrow decided to shelve it for now.

Thankfully, the quietest member was quick to draw all the attention his way as Vine cleared his throat and spoke over them, “As pleasing as this reunion is, I believe taking this discussion away from the middle of the street would be more comfortable.”

“Right.” Clover nodded, straightening up. “The General is expecting our report and, though unanticipated, I’m certain he’d be happy to accommodate your arrival.” He tipped his head towards Weiss. “We’ll contact your sister on the way in as well. Lieutenant Schnee will be relieved to know you made it back safely.”

Despite the propaganda recordings still running on loop overhead, Weiss couldn’t hide her happiness. “That would be wonderful.”

“Sooo, when you say accommodate, you mean beds? And food?” Nora piped up hopefully.

Elm grinned. “Mess hall is always open. All you can eat!”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Oh, I like you.”

In the corner of his eye, Qrow could see Ruby shifting uncertainly. He rested a hand on her back reassuringly. This wasn’t what they’d hoped for. They had wanted to gather more information before they approached James. But it’d be suspicious not to take it and the last thing they needed was for things to go south when they were so close to the finish line.

They would just have to hope they hadn’t lost James’ loyalty like they had Leo’s.

“We could certainly use it.” He finally said. “Lead the way boy scout.”

~

Though sleep came fast that night, Qrow didn’t rest easy. Despite the exhaustion weighing him down, his mind refused to quiet, whirling over and over again on an anxious loop. James’ flawed plans for Amity if they didn’t tell him the truth. Oz’s deceits. The relic still resting out in the open. Salem’s unknown course of action.

Normally, when his brain was this busy, he’d drown it in alcohol. Let everyone else figure it out as long as he could get some rest from it all. But that wasn’t an option anymore. He wouldn’t allow it to be.

That was how he found himself dragging himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and wandering down the already bustling halls. Anywhere else, he’d say it would be weird to be walking past so many people so early; but Atlas had the majority of its’ facility and students on a strict military schedule. Something about how it taught basic discipline and the sleep regimen was good for promoting better health and performance.

It was a crime against sleeping in is what it was.

Despite the fact his last visit had been well over a year ago, Qrow had no trouble navigating the uniform halls, finding his way to the Ace-Ops’ quarters in record time. He knocked twice, only having to wait a few seconds before the door was flung open. The cartoon flamingos on Harriet’s pajamas seemed to mock the rest of the academy already starting the day.

It’s tactical, Clover had told him once when he’d questioned the special treatment.

Privileged, Qrow had corrected snidely, ignoring the multitude of night crews given the same benefits.

Sometimes it was just fun to see if he could get a rise out of Mr. Perfect.

Speaking of, a quick sweep over Harriet’s hairline told him he was nowhere in the room. He did spot the others though, seated around the dining table. Elm had her hair wrapped up in a towel and a piece of toast in hand. Vine was sipping on tea and scrolling through news. Marrow was giving him that same starstruck look from yesterday, a spoonful of cereal only halfway on its journey to his mouth.

“Boy scout ain’t here?” Qrow asked.

Harriet quirked an eyebrow. “He’s in the garden.”

On a Tuesday? That was new.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Guess I’ll be on my way then. See ya.” He gave her a nod of farewell, heading down the hall.

“Hey, Branwen!” He paused, seeing Harriet leaning out the doorframe, her stare almost challenging. “If you start antagonizing him, I’ll kick your ass.”

That was… also new.

He smirked. “Like to see you try speedy.”

She only scoffed. From within, he heard Marrow pipe up, “Hare! You can’t say that to-” The rest of it was cut off by the door closing, but he had a feeling it ended with ‘The Qrow Branwen.’

He started down the hall again, the foreboding that had been weighing on him since last night quickening his pace.

It didn’t take him long to get to the garden. Natural to Atas’ standards, the room was as grand as could be. Twice as large as the training facility, the greenery filled every inch of space, broken only by specifically designed pathways students or staff could traverse. Some ran to small manmade ponds with wooden bridges built over them where koi fish would swim underneath while others led to displays of delicately trimmed hedges shaped to look like animals. As there was no plant life in Solitas’ ecosystem, everything in the room had been imported. Desert roses from Vacuo, sage bushes from Vale, black pines from Anima. There were even some sunflowers he’d brought years ago from Tai’s little patch at home, still valiantly clinging to life among the rosemary bushes.

Practically on autopilot, Qrow went down the right-most path which wound along to the far side of the garden, where the trees grew taller and the branches hung down like arms reaching out for a hand, close enough for him to reach up and touch. There was one in particular, a lone willow, which had become a popular hiding spot due to its’ thick, curtain-like tresses. So much so, that it had become better known as the Kissing Tree. Though it was too early for anyone to be there now, more than once, he and Clover had stumbled upon a pair of students trying to sneak in a private moment between classes.

To say nothing of the numerous times when the tree was empty and Clover would always wink at him and say, “Looks like there’s room for two.”

The first time, Qrow had been too shocked to respond. Every time after, he’d wave him off and say, “As if you could handle me.”

Clover would laugh and they would continue on, sometimes to the exit.

But more often than not, it was on their way in to the pen.

Compared to the rest of the room, the five-foot, stock panel metal fencing was a bit of an eyesore. Doubly so with the glowing blue devices placed on every post that would activate if anyone without clearance attempted to enter. Hence why it was kept in the back.

But for Clover, it was the best place in the entire garden. Qrow could already see him to one side of the cage, sitting on a bale of hay, gently grooming a lop-eared rabbit resting in his lap while another dozen of various breeds hopped about his feet. The soldier was humming a peppy tune, so lost in his own world he didn’t notice Qrow at the gate.

“Annabelle’s eating your laces.” He announced as he tapped his scroll on the gate’s scanner.

Clover jerked a bit, but not enough to disturb Dumpling, who only thumped his back leg for his attention to continue. He rested one hand on the lop’s back, shooing Annabelle away with the other, “Lil’ menace.” Before acknowledging Qrow with a nod and a “Good morning.”

“Was looking for you.” He replied, shutting the door behind him.

The second he had, Jynx honed in on him like a missile, torpedoing across the pen in seconds to race excited circles around his feet. Clover watched the antics with a teasing smile. “Somehow, I only half believe that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow carefully stepped around the dwarf rabbit and as he made his way over, plucked a daffodil from the treat container kept on a high-mounted shelf. He sat beside Clover on another hay bale, Jynx wasting no time as she leapt onto his legs and flopped onto her side. So content she was, she didn’t even bother to lift her head when he offered the flower, just munched it down when it got close enough to her mouth. He rolled his eyes, running a hand through her soft, black fur. “Still lazy as ever.”

“She can’t help it if she takes after her handler.” Clover pointed out as he returned to his brushing.

“Making fun of yourself over there, boy scout? ‘Cause I ain’t the parent here. I’m the uncle who spoils her rotten.”

Normally, they’d go at it for a while like this, trading verbal blows that were about as harmful as throwing a handful of feathers at one another would be.

Today, it was clear his friend wasn’t in the mood when he only hummed and said, “I suppose.”

In the quiet that followed, it gave him a chance to really look the other man over. Though he was prim and proper as ever, with clothes neatly pressed and boots shined enough to reflect the light, his face told the true story. Between the deeper lines under his eyes and slight graying at the base of his crew cut, Clover appeared as if he’d aged a decade overnight. Burdened by the weight of worlds’ most damning secrets.

Ones that he knew only got worse the deeper the hole was dug. Qrow felt so far under at this point, he wasn’t sure he’d find the sky again. And the worst part was, the only action he had left was to choose if he wanted to toss the next person the shovel.

Regardless of his convictions to be as candid and brusque as possible to his friends and family, the idea of burying Clover along with him was terrifying.

A quiet chattering drew his eyes back to Jynx. Her eyes were half-closed in blissful contentment, unaware and detached from the woes of her people. He rubbed a finger between her ears, the way he’d learned she liked all the way back when she was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Back when she was so tiny, they’d almost missed her when clearing out the illegal dust testing facility deep in Mantle’s suburbs five years ago.

The mission had been a spur of the moment thing. He’d been tracing one of Salem’s subordinates when the Captain approached him. He still recalled how Clover had buttered him up as he explained that with one of their teammates sick, he was in need of a fifth and he ‘just couldn’t think of anyone more suited than Qrow’.

He wouldn’t say it worked or anything but, well, it just so happened the person he was looking for was also said to be someone of ‘scientific talent’. He’d taken the job completely on the merit of it being a potential lead, but if Clover wanted to shower him with compliments in the meantime, who was he to complain?

Next thing he knew, he was knocking a needle-wielding chemist unconscious and lifting guinea pigs out of overcrowded cages.

It took nearly the entire day to clear the facility. Most of the animals were either unaccustomed to being handled or traumatized from it, and it was difficult to recage them without risk of further injury. It was eventually left to the animal experts that had to be called in. Yet, despite the mission being technically fulfilled, Clover had been stubborn to leave, trying to find ways for them to contribute and becoming agitated if anyone tried to derail him.

Even at the time, when Qrow hadn’t yet known the younger huntsman well, he’d understood the behavior was unusual for the other man. It was hard to say if he simply became driven to assist, his soft spot for animals painfully clear, or if it was some mild form of Hunter’s Shock, the stress and horror of the situation putting him into a repetitive state.

Whatever it was, it was clear they were stuck there until the job was done.

So, mostly trying to look busy while staying out of the way, Qrow had found himself lazily strolling through the basement’s already emptied cage ring when his eyes, sharpened by years of looking down the barrel of a shotgun, caught the almost undetectable movement of hay breathing. Sure enough, brushing it aside revealed one of the smallest rabbits he’d ever seen – though she certainly had the loudest cry when he picked her up.

Like a mother responding to a distressed child, the Captain came running. Though his expression was quick to melt when he spotted them, easing into a smile for the first time that afternoon.

Lucky Number 13, Clover had cooed to her while Qrow cradled the shaking thing against his chest. He’d carried her the entire way back to Atlas, afraid she’d get lost or injured among the other hundred animals they’d rescued. At some point, she’d bonded with him.

“More like imprinted!” Tortuga had joked whenever the subject was brought up.

Keeping the rabbits after the mission hadn’t been planned, but Clover had managed to pull enough strings on Jimmy’s iron heart that the General had come out of it thinking he’d thought up the idea all along. The pen was made in record time and the recovering warren was introduced to their new home. Within days, each rabbit had a name, a toy, a bed and enough treats to hibernate a grizzly bear. Mostly provided by the Captain himself, though some of the other facility and students had donated to the cause.

They were officially presented as a wildlife addition to the garden – they were unofficially and more truthfully known as Captain Ebi’s pets.

Though the rabbits didn’t need constant care and the gardeners attended to their daily needs, Clover still swung by frequently, fitting them into a daily routine he kept to like clockwork. Monday and Friday mornings were given over to training. Tuesdays and Thursdays to team-building with the Ops through sharing or even making breakfast together. Weekends and Wednesdays were reserved for garden visits.

The reason for the change was obvious, but Qrow wasn’t quite ready to ask.

“So. Jimmy told you.” He stated instead.

Clover nodded. “Yeah. He did.”

“And… how are you doing?”

He’d been twenty years younger, when he’d been in Clover’s position. Barely graduated, when he took that first walk through the vault, Ozpin spinning grand stories and waving magic to life before his very eyes. He remembered how terrified he had been. He was just some feral kid from the forests of Anima who could barely figure out how his own Scroll worked. In what possible way was he up to the task of saving the world?

After being in the fold as long as he had, he quickly learned even people more capable than himself all tended to feel the gravity of the job.

Even someone as confidant and unshakable as Clover was not immune, his sigh long and drawn out. “Honestly? It’s a little overwhelming. I actually thought, that uh,” He laughed embarrassedly, “James had lost his mind.”

Qrow blinked.

Maybe the world really was ending.

“I woulda paid money to see that.” He teased.

Clover pinched him. “Oh shut up.” The lack of brushing made Dumpling start to fuss again, but rather than continue to pamper him, Clover set the lop back on the grass, before he lent back, letting out another of those long sighs. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how when I was a kid, I used to think the only way Atlas could possibly stay in the sky like it does was from magic. Then I grew up and the academy taught me different. It’s… terrifying, realizing how easy it’s been to lie to a whole nation’s worth of people.”

“Guess that means you agree with Jimmy’s plan then.” Qrow surmised.

“You don’t?” He challenged back, frowning. “We have thousands of people roaming these halls, none of them knowing that a few floors down lies one of the most powerful objects in the world. Don’t they deserve to know that one day they might be in charge of protecting it?”

Shifting uncomfortably, he averted his gaze, mumbling, “I never really thought about it. I trusted Oz to make those kinds of calls. And now he’s-” He felt his chest tighten, guilt a healed-over bruise pulsing on his knuckles. “Gone. Again.”

“I can imagine how lost that makes you feel.”

“I mean, I guess.” He grumbled, if only to save face.

But deep down, he knew Clover was right. Qrow wasn’t like him, or Oz, or James, or Summer or even Ruby. He needed someone to guide him on the right path. He screwed up things enough merely by existing – he couldn’t make it worse by trying to also make critical decisions.

Maybe it was that thought that made him add, “Starting to think I wasn’t cut out for this whole gig. All I’ve done is drag my nieces and their little friends into this whole mess and nearly got ‘em all killed. Isn’t really comparable to ‘restoring world communications’.”

“Yeah, I suppose being on the front lines at Haven and ensuring a relic didn’t fall into Salem’s hands is a bit more impressive.” Before he could even try to argue, Clover placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “We’ve all had to make some tough calls lately, but I know those kids were in good hands when one of the best huntsmen in all of Remnant was at their side.”

He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. “You’re just saying that because you’re completely starstruck with me.”

“I am.” The admittance was said with absolutely no hesitation, the man’s smile growing. “Qrow, some of my very best missions have been the ones I’ve gotten to go on with you. I admire you. Not because of your skill, but because you’ve never let the job change you. You scoff at your own fame and you don’t take missions looking at lien signs first. You do it for the right reasons, every time. I think that’s amazing.”

The blush was definitely on his face now.

Worse yet, the doubts and worries that had weighed on his mind for days now seemed to lighten, just a little bit.

Gods be damned, how did he always do that?

With no idea how to respond, he mumbled out a soft, “Thanks” hoping it came out more sincere than awkward.

“Anytime.” Thankfully, Clover backed off a bit, focusing back on the rabbits at his feet, picking up Bolt. Having gotten his name from how skittish he was, the cottontail took time to calm enough so he could be brushed.

Long enough for Qrow to compose himself before he spoke again. “So, how have things been otherwise?”

“They’ve been…” His shoulders fell, “Rough.”

Any doubts Qrow might have had before about the Ace Ops’ unannounced replacement crumbled right alongside Clover’s normally strong posture.

He shut his eyes, taking in a deep, bracing breath. As he focused on his friend once more, it was with all the unexpecting kindness he could muster that he asked, “Do you want to talk about him?” For a split second, Clover looked just like the rabbit in his lap – ready to sprint as far away as he could from danger. So Qrow quickly added, “You don’t have to, if you’re not ready.”

Silence blanketed over them like a snowstorm, cold and desolate. The kind of weather that blew in fast and came down slow, pressing everything into such an unnoticed hush most didn’t notice their homes being covered until they looked up and saw they were six feet under. That’s where Clover seemed to be now, stuck inside and standing at the front door, uncertain if he was prepared to create the unavoidable mess it would take to dig his way outside.

Only this time, Qrow had given him the shovel. He just had to use it.

Leaving the soldier to sort out his emotions, Qrow idly pet Jynx, fingers scoring through her sleek black fur.

And he waited.

His gaze drifted to the ring of Cypress trees that bordered outside of the pen.

And he waited some more.

When Clover finally did speak, it seemed a struggle, the words fighting their way out. “Can you imagine how it was for us that day, when we watched our own Knights turn on Vale’s citizens? It was like a nightmare. We didn’t know what had happened. No one did. Without James to explain – to speak for himself – the council started shutting down units left and right. The AKs, the paladins, even our Manta Flyers. We had to rip out billions of lien in automated equipment just so we could fly down to Mantle.”

As if he were a Flyer himself, Bolt suddenly leapt out of his lap, landing back on the grass below. He quickly crowded himself between Orion and Sirias, trusting the giant Altexs to protect him.

Clover just let him go, dropping the brush beside himself as he shook his head. “By the time we got there, the city was overrun. Normally, we’d have enough firepower to deal with it. But James had brought most of the troops with him. Even when they came back, none of them were allowed to deploy to the field until they got questioned. It was a mess. Students and soldiers were kept in lockdown. James was incarcerated. It was months before we learned anything. And every day the public was kept in the dark, every day people feared the other kingdoms would come for us, was another day Grimm surged to our borders.”

It was a familiar story. Beacon’s fall shook the world in a brutal way, leaving no Kingdom untouched. Borders closing. Grimm everywhere. The peace between nations suddenly balancing on a delicate string, just waiting for something to break it.

Yet of everything that had come after that one, awful night, it was the personal losses that struck the hardest.

“I kept telling my own team to just… hold on another day. That things would get better soon. But then-” Clover choked for a second, having to swallow hard. “We got a report of a nest of Centinels in the basement of an apartment complex downtown. We were still cleaning up some stragglers nearby, so I sent Harriet and Tortuga ahead. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before Harriet started radioing in. ‘The building came down!’ she kept screaming. I’d never heard her so panicked.”

Qrow sucked in a sharp breath and for a second, he was right there with the other huntsman. Except, for him, it was with a scroll in his ear and Oz’s grief-filled voice shattering his soul as the headmaster told him one of his closest friends wasn’t coming home.

The flash of memory faded as quick as it had come, but the heaviness in his heart stayed as Clover pressed on.

“She told us that some Centinel acid had melted through a supporting wall. Tortuga had been slowing the damage while Harriet tried to get all the occupants out in time. Any other day, they could have done it. If we weren’t all running on empty, I know they could have. Instead, they were only halfway through when suddenly, it all just came down. Harriet was outside when it happened.” Clover lent forward, hay crunching under his grasp as he clutched onto it. “The whole time I was running to their position, I kept telling her everything would be fine. I’d use my luck and we’d pull him out and he’d probably laugh at us for worrying so much. Never knowing it didn’t matter how much luck I had.” He chuckled. It was a hollow, broken noise. “He was already gone. The pathologists said he’d died instantly.”

Then that chuckle turned into a sob.

Knowing better than most that there were no words that made this part easier, Qrow did the only thing he could as he slid a hand along the other’s back and tugged him close.

~

It was a quarter to nine by the time they were getting ready to leave. Clover gave one last cursory check to the food and water while Qrow mentally counted the warren for a fourth time – they didn’t need another incident like when Snowblossom escaped and terrorized the lavender field. He’d finished his count by the time Clover was ushering him through the gate.

He’d finished it again when it locked behind them.

As they started around the first bend of the path, he almost couldn’t fight the urge to go back just to be safe.

Luckily, Clover was a great distraction. “So now that you’re in Atlas, what do you and your entourage plan to do?”

“Uh.” Was that a trick question? “Help with Jimmy’s pet project, obviously.”

“Besides that. It’s not like we’re going to work you all 24/7.”

Qrow wouldn’t mind if they did. At least, for him. Free time seemed… dangerous, when he’d used to fill it with taking shots at the nearest bar. Really, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t really do much else. When he was bored, he went to a bar. When he had a day off, he went to a bar. When he was looking to have fun, he went to a bar. When he didn’t want to see people, then he skipped the bar, got a six pack, and drank himself to oblivion.

Shit.

He was going to have to find a hobby, wasn’t he?

In the end, he shrugged, replying glumly, “Guess we’ll have to figure it out.”

“What about training?” Clover held up a hand in a gesture of peace as Qrow frowned at him. “Not you. The kids. There’s going to be a lot ahead for all of us and the sooner we get used to working together, the better. And, well, considering their age I’m sure some of them are still rough around the edges too.”

He snorted, but didn’t argue that fact. Really, all of them were incredibly skilled, but that didn’t mean perfection. Ren was still flaking in the stamina department. Weiss had to work on her spatial awareness. Jaune needed, well, everything. After years of being a combat teacher, it wasn’t hard to pick out the kids’ flaws. To say nothing of Oscar who, without Oz as a crutch, probably would be better off if they just shipped him into a witness protection program.

It was time that worked against them all. Ideally, it’d be best enrolling them back into school, were they could finish off their graduate programs and gain the wisdoms of various professors who could help them hone their talents. But, seeing as that wasn’t in the cards, he supposed getting some pointers from some of the best Atlas had to offer was a decent replacement.

“I’m sure they’d like that.” Qrow could already imagine how Ruby would bounce off the walls at the idea of getting trained by real huntsmen. As if he were chopped liver, or something.

(He could also already picture her waving his complaints away. “Uncles don’t count. You’re obligated to do nice things for me.”)

“Great! We can work out a schedule once you’re all a bit more settled.” Clover was practically glowing, as if he couldn’t wait to start penning things in on his calendar. Dork.

Yet, he’d take this much happier, lively Clover over the despairing, grieving one he’d just consoled any day of the year.

In fact, the air was so much lighter than it had been, as they rounded another bend and the willow tree came into sight, he was already preparing himself for the other man to drop his usual line, retort already on the tip of his tongue.

Yet, as they came level with it, Clover did something even more daring as he reached across the space between them and caught Qrow’s hand in his.

He stared down at this grand declaration, then up at Clover himself, meeting questing, hopeful eyes.

Heart racing, he curled his fingers over Clover’s, and despite the other’s rounded knuckles or his own lanky fingers, despite mismatched calluses and hairline scars, despite the rings or the gloves, they seemed a perfect fit.

Perhaps, Qrow wouldn’t be so bored in Atlas after all.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Good At The Job

For lawrancel and peter-ohara 

The moment Hotch hears the monitor flatline, the noise echoing through the silent room, he decides to make his way out of the hospital room. The two parents need some time to grieve privately and Hotch is not a monster, he won’t rip Jimmy away from his dead son, not until he has to. 

Pushing open the door as quietly as he possibly can, Hotch lets himself out of the room. He draws in a deep breath as he presses his body against the nearest empty space on the wall. His palms are flat against the cold wall, the sensation anchoring him to reality. He tilts his head up as he attempts to will away the tears. 

From the corner of his, he sees a familiar mop of brown hair come into view and soon he feels a hand rest on his upper arm, the warmth seeping through his dress shirt and spreading across his skin. 

“Hotch,” Reid says softly, “You okay?”

Using the arm free of Reid’s grasp, Hotch wipes away the remaining tears on his face using the end of his sleeve. 

“I’m fine.” Hotch answers back quickly, his voice coming out all watery, “Let’s just— let’s go back to the station.”

He is well aware that he’s not doing an excellent job of convincing Reid but he hopes that, for once in his life, Reid will simply drop the matter, that he won’t keep probing. 

It’s quite clear that today will not be the exception as Hotch’s hopes are crushed when he feels Reid’s digits curling into his bicep. As the younger man shuffles closer to lean into Hotch’s side, he uses his free hand to twine their fingers together. 

“The team can wrap up the case without us.” he murmurs as he tries to make fleeting eye contact with Hotch, “You want to talk about it?”

Without hesitation, Hotch shakes his head vehemently. 

No, he does not want to talk about it. He’d rather be back at the police station going through mind-numbing procedures that would help him forget the look of pure anguish on Ryan’s parents’ faces when he uttered his final goodbye. 

“Aaron…” Reid admonishes gently, “Please?”

For a minute, he stays silent and Reid resigns himself to having lost this battle with Hotch. He can feel him making microscopic movements to inch away and that makes a surge of panic rush through Hotch for an inexplicable reason. 

Moving his hand to grasp at Reid’s waist, Hotch leans his mouth down to his ear. He wants to be quiet because he knows that right beside them, inside the hospital room, is a pair of parents wondering how to keep going on after they’ve lost their son. 

“I saw a kid die,” he starts off, his breath most likely tickling the shell of Reid’s ear from the way the man was squirming in his hold, “And I don’t know, my mind must have gotten away from me, because I kept imagining if it was Jack. Then, I started imagining if Jack had gotten sick and I had to say goodbye, if he had gotten into an accident and I had to bury him, if he had been killed by Foyet—”

He cuts himself off as he heaves in a ragged breath. He knows that by now his fingers must be leaving bruises in Reid’s skin from the way he’s tightened his grip. 

“I felt bad for him.” Hotch admits quietly to Reid, “For the unsub, for Jimmy. I know he’s a killer but I understand him. If Jack got sick or if he died, I would snap too and that makes me afraid. That the person I identify with, is the bad guy.

“I mean, what does that make me?”

“Good at the job.” Reid whispers back.

It’s a callback to something he said years ago to him, back when Reid had been younger and Hotch had smiled more. It loosens up the knot in his chest, if only enough to let him take a free breath. 

“Thanks Reid.” he says, and he’s not sure what he’s thanking him for, but it feels right to say the words. 

A second or two passes when Hotch realizes they are still wrapped up around one another. Despondently, he thinks it’s time he pulls away from Reid’s body. They’ve been intertwined in a way that is inappropriate for boss and subordinate, for friends, even. 

As he goes to take a step back, Reid places a hand on top of Hotch’s own that was resting on his waist, effectively keeping him close. 

“By the way,” Reid says into his ear, “I don’t think you’ll ever turn into an unsub.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of our unsubs,” Reid begins as he moves to look Hotch in the eye, “Their triggers are when their loved ones die a traumatic death. But, Hotch, you? Your wife was murdered by a man that had made your life living hell, and instead of choosing violence, against yourself or others, you chose to go back to work and put people like Foyet away. You chose to be the good way when it could have been so easy to fall off the deep end, you chose to be good even though it wasn't easy.

"And you showed your son that you can move past tragedy without forgetting about it.”

All Hotch can do is stare at Reid and take in all of the awe and pride swirling around in his eyes. 

“I was rambling, wasn’t I?” he pipes up when Hotch cannot produce a response for him in time.

“I like it.” Hotch mumbles as he brings his thumb up to trace the corner of Reid’s mouth. 

“When it doesn’t interfere with the job?” he teases, even though a blush appears across his own face. 

“Yeah.” 

The next day, after the team has filed into the jet and they are well on their way back home to Quantico, Rossi decides to stride over to where Hotch was sitting, his paperwork scattered around him on the table in front of him. 

“So,” Rossi says, elongating the vowel as he leans his arm on the top of the empty seat in front of Hotch, “Is the doomsday bike ride happening?”

“Yes, it is. Tomorrow morning, 9:00.” he informs, “But, uh, I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure Haley wouldn't want you to avoid moving on.”

Though it’s been two years, her name still cracks against his heart like a whip whenever he hears it. He wonders when the blow will lessen its impact. 

“I'm not avoiding moving on.” he murmurs as he scribbles something down, “I'm just not sure.”

It’s the truth. He just isn’t sure if it’s worth the hassle.

Beth is nice and sweet and she is someone Hotch could fall in love with.  But, she’s so innocent and Hotch doesn’t want to do to her what he did to Haley. He doesn’t want Beth to bear the burden of a job she did not sign up for. It’s not fair to her, just like it wasn’t fair to Haley. 

He sees no point in attempting a relationship that is doomed to end catastrophically. 

“Not sure about what? Going on a bike ride?” Rossi asks, slightly exasperated, “Aaron, I know you think it's too soon, but you're no good to anyone when you're miserable.”

“I'm not miserable.”

Hotch has a good life. He has a wonderful son and a kind sister. He has a team that has his back no matter what. What more could he ask for? What more could he ask for without feeling guilty? Without feeling selfish?

“Ehh…” Rossi says with a little hand gesture, “Maybe slightly uptight.”

A small chuckle escapes Hotch.

“All right,” he concedes as he sets his pen down, “I'll give you slightly uptight.”

After a moment, the grin on Rossi’s face dials down, replaced by the sight of a small, sad smile. 

“If there's one thing I learned from Carolyn's death, it's that life is short.” he says, “And you deserve to be happy.”

“I know.” Hotch murmurs, half lying and half telling the truth.

Leaning closer, Rossi gives him a pat on the shoulder before he straightens up and makes his way back to his own seat, where Prentiss and Morgan are waiting for him so they can begin their game of poker.

As he picks up his pen once more, Hotch is about to get back to his paperwork when the pen is snatched up from behind him. In its place is a warm mug of coffee, instead. Looking up, he finds Reid beaming down at him as he holds Hotch’s favourite pen hostage in one hand, and his own mug of coffee in the other. 

“Did you poison it with your sugar?” Hotch jokes as he brings his nose down to the rim of the mug. 

“Haha,” Reid says sarcastically as he takes his seat in front of Hotch, “That’s coming from Mr. I-take-my-coffee-as-dark-as-my-soul.”

“Well, if coffee is supposed to represent its drinker, I think yours is fitting as well.” Hotch says, surprising himself with his words. 

“Because I’m so pale?”

“Because you’re sweet.” Hotch corrects. 

He isn’t quite sure why he said the words but whatever the reason is good enough for him as he watches the flush spread across Reid’s face like it did last night. Soon after, Reid ducks his head down as he distracts himself by taking a sip of his overly sugary coffee. 

Maybe, Hotch had gotten it all wrong. Maybe, he should’ve been searching for a partner in his own circles. Someone who understood him and understood everything he had been through. Someone who he didn’t have to go through the painful pleasantries of first dates with because they already knew him. Someone who would not be scared away by the job because they worked the job too. 

Someone like Reid, he thinks to himself. 

Sighing, Hotch pushes aside the thought. Reid would never want to be with a man like him. Not when he had so many other options available to him. Sure, he’s a little late on social cues but he makes up for it with kindness, passion, intellect, with his whole personality. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

In the pocket of his trousers, he feels his cell phone vibrate with a new text message notification. Whipping it out, he spots Beth’s contact name on the screen. 

“Jess?” Reid asks.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s Beth.” at Reid’s questioning look, Hotch explains, “She’s the woman I met in the park while I was training. She’s asking if I would like to join her for some dinner later in the day after we finish our bike ride tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Reid says deflated, “That’s nice.”

As he grows dismayed, a seed of hope sprouts up inside of Hotch. He wonders if… 

“Unfortunately for her, I am busy.” he announces as he sets his cell phone face down on the table.

“With what?” Reid asks, curiously.

“Taking you out to dinner.” and Hotch isn’t sure where this streak of bravery came from but he is grateful for it, “That is if you’ll say yes.”

The grin that Reid greets him with reaches the corners of his eyes and leaves Hotch feeling breathless.

“That depends.” he says as he raises his mug up to his mouth before lightly blowing over the top.

“On?”

“If you mean it in the way I think you do.” he explains. 

“Spencer,” Hotch murmurs lowly to make sure the rest of the team cannot eavesdrop, “I would like to take you out on a date.”

“Okay.” he mumbles into the rim of his mug.

“Okay?” Hotch asks, wanting to double check, a smile already stretching across his face.

“Yep.” Reid nods shyly. 

Without another word, Hotch settles back into his chair to get some work done. He’d rather not have to do it tomorrow, seeing as he’s going to be very busy. 

As he slides sheets of papers around, he spots Reid getting up from his seat, only to slot up beside him on the empty chair next to him. Reid brings his hand down to Hotch’s, and he can feel a pen nudging his palm. After taking hold of it, Hotch tries to get back to work only to find his right hand clasped together with Reid’s left, settling on top of his thigh. 

It’s a good thing Hotch is left handed. 

[chaerrie-on-top]

The Stars Aligned For Us

Chapter 4

Dahyun and Chaeyoung walk side by side in a comfortable silence, their sneaker clad feet creative a rhythm against the sidewalk. Chaeyoung glances at her phone every now and then, secretly hoping her boyfriend (well, ex-boyfriend) would call her or text. Whenever she would glance at it, she couldn't think about it long before her eyes would tear up. So, she'd distract herself and count the cracks in the sidewalk or look at the cars passing by. Chaeyoung had stared at her phone for too long, and thought about too much when her lips began to quiver.

She clears her throat, "I saw you eating with a girl today," Chaeyoung casually says. "You've never talked about her before. New friend?" "Ah," Dahyun hangs her head, letting her long brown hair fall in her face and hide her blushing cheeks. "That's my new friend, Sana. She joined our class today; she moved here from Japan."

"Japan? That's so cool! So she's fluent in Korean?" "Yeah, she has an accent but other than that you would never know she's Japanese! Her aunt lives here, so she lives with her and I assume that's why she's so good at Korean."

"Ohh," Chaeyoung smiles. "You seem awfully happy."

Dahyun chortles and picks up her pace, running up to the restaurant they had finally approached. She opens the door, looks back to Chaeyoung with a smile. "Really?"

Chaeyoung nods and walks through the doorway. "Mhm. I've never seen you so smiley." Dahyun follows in after her. Dahyun stands to the side while Chaeyoung goes up to the register to let them know the girl's had called in the order.

"Your meal will be ready in just a minute, thank you," the employee tells her. Chaeyoung thanks him before turning and stepping off to the side where Dahyun waits. "Dahyun?" a voice speaks from behind them. The two girls whip around at the same time to find a pretty girl with shimmering brown eyes and long wavy hair looking back at them. "Oh, hey Sana," Dahyun greets, her eyes training on the girl. Chaeyoung glances over at her roommate, watching as Dahyun seems entranced as she looks up at the slightly taller girl. the girl, Sana, looks back at Dahyun with flushed cheeks. Chaeyoung awkwardly clears her throat, causing both girls to seemingly snap out of it and look over to her.

"Ah, hi, I'm Sana," Sana introduces herself, bowing politely. "Dahyun, who is this?"

Sana trains her eyes onto Chaeyoung, looking her up and down. Chaeyoung can see some sort of shift in emotion on Sana's face; jealousy? Annoyance? Chaeyoung wasn't sure, but Sana definitely didn't look at Chaeyoung the same way she did Dahyun.

"This is my roommate, Chaeyoung," Dahyun introduces the two. "Chaeyoung, this is Sana-"

"We were just talking about you," Chaeyoung bows. "Dahyun was telling me about you guys meeting!" Sana smiles back at her and she opens her mouth to speak, but the cashier calls Dahyun and Chaeyoung.

"That's our food; I'll go grab it. It was nice meeting you Sana," Chaeyoung says before parting ways with the girls and going up to the register.

"Guess I better get going. I'll text you later," Dahyun tells her.

Sana waves cutely. "Okay, bye Dahyun."

***

The next morning Dahyun awakes to a text on her phone.

Sana: hii :) it's Sana

Dahyun smiles to herself, opening up the texting app and hurriedly texting Sana back: hii :) what's up?

Sana: can I call you? I just have a quick question :)

Dahyun: go ahead :)

Dahyun sits up in her bed, staring at her phone as she awaits Sana's call. About a minute pops by before Dahyun's phone begins to ring, which she answers almost immediately. "Hello?'

"Hey."

"Hey." Dahyun pauses. "So... The question?"

Sana giggles over the phone, "Do you happen to have class between three to four this afternoon?"

"Nope."

"Great!" Sana cries. "Dahyun, you have to go with me."

"Go with you where?"

"Wouldn't you rather it be a surprise?" Sana giggles, sounding almost mischievous. Dahyun sat there for a second, trying to imagine what plan Sana had up her sleeve.

Dahyun must have been silent for a moment too long because Sana gives in, "Fine, I'll explain a bit more. I need you to come to this meeting with me."

"A meeting? Sounds kinda boring-"

"It wont be, I promise! Please just meet me at the science building, okay?"

Dahyun sighs. "Fine, but you owe me big time after this."

Sana giggles. "Whatever. I'll see you later! Bye Dahyunie!"

***

Sana sits at the bench outside of the science building, nervously checking the time on her phone as she waits for Dahyun. She was a bit early, so she pulled up a game on her phone to pass the time. Only a minute into her game, Animal Restaurant, a shadow casted over her. Sana looked up expectedly, thinking Dahyun had arrived.

Except, she was met by a boy she had never seen before. "Hi," he said. "I'm Jaemin, you are?."

"Hi, Sana,"

"Hi, Sana. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are." He tells her. Sana blushes under the sudden compliment. I'm uninterested in men, is what she wants to say.

"Thank you," is what she says instead.

"Mind giving me your number? I'd love to go out for dinner sometime."

Sana internally cringes, her eyes quickly scanning the scene around them as she looks for an escape from the awkward encounter. "Ah, that's kind of you but I have a boyfriend," she lies. Suddenly she sees Dahyun coming from a distance. "Dahyun, over here!"

The boy smiles sheepishly, "It's okay, I'll see you around."

"Bye," Sana smiles and waves at him, breathing out a sigh of relief once he leaves.

"Who was that?" Dahyun asks once she's made her way over to Sana.

Sana shakes her head and stands up, gently grabs ahold of Dahyun's arm before leading her away. "Doesn't matter. We have a meeting to attend."

***

"Sana, you're insane!" Dahyun cries, digging her heels into the ground as she comes to a stop. Sana tugs her arm, scoffing with frustrating when Dahyun refuses to move. The building the meeting was being held at was literally only feet away and now Dahyun wouldn't go in.

"Please," Sana pouts, giving Dahyun puppy dog eyes.

"So you're telling me I'm supposed to walk in there and pretend I'm Japanese?" Dahyun asks. Sana nods. "You're crazy!"

"Aw c'mon, it'll be fun!"

Dahyun groans. "And what if I get caught?"

"Attendance isn't being taken or anything! There's a really short informational part, but most of it is just to give foreign students a chance to meet each other."

Dahyun shakes her head. "Sana..."

"Please come with me, Dahyun," Sana whines. "I'm shy." Dahyun laughs out loud; they both know that isn't true.

"Please! We can both meet new people! It'll be really fun, please!"

Dahyun melts under her intense gaze, her eyes diverting to the ground as she contemplates her decision. "Fine. I'll go with you."

***

The informational part of the meeting lasted for only about fifteen minutes before the students were invited to come enjoy some light refreshments and get to know each other. Dahyun gulped as her and Sana stood up, the two girls setting on their way to go meet the other students. Her palms felt sweaty, which she wiped against her jeans as Sana looped their arms and led her with the rest of the group. The two girls found their way to the refreshment table, where they both grabbed cups of water and surveyed the room.

Sana looked around, hoping to find someone that looked approachable. Standing at another refreshment table not too far away were two girls who casually chatted as they sipped their drinks. Sana whispers to Dahyun, "Let's go talk to them."

"Wait, Sana-" but its too late, Sana has already wandered off and poor Dahyun follows behind like a lost puppy.

"Hi," Sana bows her head politely and gives the girls a warm smile.

"Hi," one of them says. Dahyun notices her pretty face and long, straight brown hair. This girl is tall; a lot taller than her but only a bit taller than Sana. The girl beside her has short jet black hair with bangs covering her forehead. She has big brown eyes that look back at Sana and Dahyun warmly.

"I'm Sana and this is my friend Da-" Sana cuts herself off, giggling nervously. "I mean, um, Hana."

"Cool, Hana is my sister's name!" the one with short black hair excitedly tells them. "I'm Momo, this is Tzuyu." she gestures to the taller girl who is looking at Dahyun strangely. "Are you both Japanese?"

Sana nods, "What about you guys?"

"Momo is, but I'm Taiwanese," Tzuyu says, still looking Dahyun up and down. "You're so familiar to me for some reason. I think I've seen you before..."

"Ah, maybe you've seen me around campus," Dahyun tells her. Tzuyu nods in agreement, her curious gaze melting into a kind one.

"Maybe," Tzuyu responds with a small smile. The girls fall into a brief silence which is broken by Sana's sweet voice.

"Da-" Sana bites her lips, cutting herself off once she catches her mistake. "I mean, Hana and I are going out for ramen once this is over, would you guys like to join us?" Dahyun casts her gaze to the floor as she tries to conceal her giggles. Tzuyu's eyebrows draw together as she looks at the girls with curiosity, but Momo doesn't seem to notice the slip as she announces that Tzuyu and her will join.

***

The girls walk together to the ramen shop that's only a few minutes away and grab a table inside while they wait for their food. Dahyun excuses herself to the bathroom and Tzuyu offers to grab everyone's food once its ready, leaving the two Japanese girls alone at the table.

"Ah, can we switch to Japanese while the others are gone? Talking in Korean hurts my brain," Momo whines to Sana cutely, playing with her straw as she bats her big, round eyes at the long-haired girl sitting across from her.

Sana laughs and starts talking in Japanese now, "Sure, but your Korean is really good!"

"Are you kidding me? Yours is way better," Momo scoffs. "How are you so good at it?" "My aunt lives her, so I've spoken Korean for pretty much my whole life."

"Wow, you're so lucky. You make switching between languages look easy," Momo sighs dreamily. Sana smiles when she sees Dahyun walking up to the table and she scoots to the side so Dahyun can sit in the booth with her.

"Hi Hana, we were just talking about how Sana has completely mastered two languages," Momo greets the youngest girl at the table, still talking in Japanese, whose face goes white as she's spoken to in a foreign language.

Sana gushes from the compliment, momentarily believing her own lie as she completely forgets that Dahyun can't speak Japanese.

"Um..." Dahyun gulps, glances at Sana for help. "Hai..."

"You're super good at Korean too. How did you learn?" Momo is simply just curious as she asks, hoping to gather some study tips from the girl she thinks is Japanese as well.

"Um... Hai!" Dahyun says confidently. Sana can't help but to burst into a fit of laughter, which makes Dahyun's face go red as she ducks her head in a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

Momo stares at her strangely, just as Tzuyu joins the table with everyone's bowl of ramen. "Did I miss something?" Tzuyu asks upon seeing a hysterical Sana and a flustered Dahyun.

"Sana," Dahyun says, glaring at her friend. "Maybe you should fill Momo and Tzuyu in."

"Yeah, your Japanese is pretty terrible," Momo mutters, making Dahyun choke up.

"Well..." Sana starts. "It's because she's not actually Korean." "What?" Momo cries, nearly drops her chopsticks as she gapes at the girls across the table. Tzuyu rolls her eyes.

"Momo, you couldn't tell?" Tzuyu chides.

"We're so sorry we didn't tell you," Sana says between giggles. "I snuck Dahyun into the meeting."

Tzuyu chortles in disbelief, "No way." Momo still stares at the girls in shock while Tzuyu starts to laugh.

"I can't believe I never noticed," Momo huffs, grabs a pile of noodles with her chopstick.

The girls laugh for a few minutes more at the sheer stupidity of Sana and Dahyun's little scheme. They laughed so much that other customers in the shop had glanced over, looking at them strangely as they laughed to the point of leaning on each other for support. Sana laid her head on Dahyun's shoulder as she laughed, her eyes casted upwards as she watches Dahyun's pretty face glow with happiness.

[lov3nerdstuff]

May I Please Request A Fluff Where Loki Just Loves When Reader Plays With His Hair?

Thank you so much for the request 💗✨ I have added a little bit more plot to this prompt and I sincerely hope you enjoy the outcome of this 💚

*Loki x reader*

Imagine: When Loki gets sick while he is locked up in a cell in the Avengers compound, you are the only one he allows to take care of him.

Genre: fluffffff

Words: 3.5k

"Alright, Steve and Natasha, you guys and Clint and the cyborg here, you take the jet and go in from above. Bruce, you supervise the whole thing from the camp and you're our backup if we need a little green in the picture." Tony said as he stood in the middle of the room with the whole team assembled around him. The Avengers were preparing for one of their newest missions and after thorough discussion, Tony had seen it to be his task to organize the whole thing. 

"C'mon man, you know my name!" Bucky protested upon being given a stupid pet name by Tony once again. However Tony ignored him and continued in his explanation. "Thor, you lead everyone else on the ground. Circle them first, then attack. Understood?" He continued on and people all around him started to get going, taking their designated places. 

"Y/n, you're staying here, no discussion. Everyone who's flying in, come with me." With that he finished, turning on his heel and starting for the door. 

"What about me?" You protested, grabbing his arm before he could leave. "Why do I need to stay here?!"

With an exaggerated sigh Tony turned around, rolling his eyes. "What part of 'no discussion' didn't you understand? You're on duty to watch over Reindeer Games. Stay by his side, with every step he takes."

"Seriously?! Why is it always me who's supposed to watch him?" You groaned.

"Because you're the only one he doesn't want to murder in gruesome ways. And you like him."

"I don't…" You protested weakly, causing Tony to fake-laugh hysterically as he left.

"See you in two days!" He called back to you and a moment later the base went completely silent. Oh, you hated the Avengers sometimes… they could be so nice and welcoming, but also very (unintentionally?) oppressive at times. They had rescued you and you owed them your life, but… living here in the compound, going on missions and saving the world… it wasn't what you enjoyed, nor what you wanted for yourself. 

With an annoyed sigh you sauntered towards the elevator and went down to the lowest level. Of course Tony knew about you and Loki… darn guy had cameras everywhere.

The faint ding of the elevator let you know that you arrived and with another sigh you made your way towards Loki's cell. 

"Hey Loki, looks like we…" You stopped mid-sentence when you saw the illusion surrounding the cell. A few weeks ago Loki had taught you how to spot his illusions and you had felt like that was a huge step in your friendship. You knew you weren't supposed to befriend him, but over the months he had been locked up here you had grown rather fond of the trickster. And as it seemed, he had quite the inclination to you as well, so by now you had developed a solid friendship on the outside and a serious crush on him on the inside. If one could even still call it a crush...

"Loki?" You called, stepping to the edge of the cell to peak inside. "They're all gone, it's okay…"

A moment later the illusion wavered and finally disappeared completely, revealing a very pale Loki sitting on his poor excuse of a bed.

"Hey Y/n…" He greeted you with a weak smile. "Good to see you."

"No, not good at all! You look like a ghost with a fever!" You said with concern. It's been a few days since you'd last been able to visit him down here, but when you'd last seen him he had seemed completely fine.

"I'm not feeling good." He sighed. "Haven't for two days…"

"And no one bothered to check on you?!" You asked incredulously, already preparing a rant for Tony in your head. 

"No one knew…" He replied rather calmly. "They don't see what you see."

"You mean the illusions?" You asked while unlocking the door to the cell. The others didn't like it when you got into the cell, but they weren't here right now and you didn't care about most of them even half as much as you did for Loki. 

"Yeah, those and other things." He chuckled, which lead him to coughing roughly.

"Loki, you're sick! You should've told someone!" You protested as you walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. Screw getting sick… he needed your help!

"I don't trust those people. They probably would've taken the chance to end me once and for all." He grumbled. 

"But you could've asked them to send me to you… or don't you trust me either?" You asked, sounding a lot more hurt than intended.

"I trust you Y/n, you know that…" He breathed tiredly, taking your hand in his. He's only done that once before and it made your heart race like crazy. 

"You should've told me. Getting sick is nothing to be ashamed of." You said gently, drawing circles on his hand with your thumb, which made him hum quietly. 

"I'm a god. I don't get sick." He protested with a pout, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"You don't, until you did. Now please let me take care of you, okay?" 

He nodded a little. "But don't tell the kids up there…"

"They're all gone. We're the only ones in the building." You assured him.

"Wish that would've happened at a different time…" He mumbled. 

"So you could've used me to escape?" You smirked, shoving him a little to the side.

"So I could've escaped WITH you." He said with a smirk of his own. "You know that I wouldn't leave you behind, don't you?"

You nodded, hiding your furious blush by standing up. "Alright. How do we turn the cameras off?" 

He looked up at you with a frown until you continued.

"No, we're not running. Even though I really want to, sometimes. But not today. And I'm not leaving you in this stupid cell when you're sick!"

He smiled at you so adoringly that you couldn't help but smile in return. 

"So…" You said after a moment to break the tension that had fallen between you. "The cameras?"

"Don't know…" He sighed.

"YOU don't know? For once in how long?" You chuckled.

"The fact that I'm sick doesn't stop me from tackling you down right now and right here." He glared at you.

"That sounds like fun." You wiggled your eyebrows, making Loki cough-laugh.

"You wouldn't hurt me if your life depended on it." You grinned, and the feeling of utter pride spread in your chest. 

"I hate you." He groaned.

"You don't!" You laughed, pulling him up to his feet.

"True, unfortunately…" He sighed and let you drag him to the edge of the cell. 

"Can you manipulate the cameras so they stop recording?" You asked while unlocking the cell door.

"Usually I could. Right now… I can't." He said in annoyance, probably at himself.

"Could you teach me to do it?" You wondered.

"Actually…" He frowned for a moment, then his eyes light up ever so slightly. "Remember that thing I taught you last week?"

"Being invisible to someone's eye?" 

"Yeah, it should also work with cameras. I never tried that, but there's a first time for everything." He shrugged.

"Alright…" You said and concentrated on the task, just like he had taught you. Your little attempts to learn more about magic had started a few months ago and honestly, it had been out of boredom on both your and Loki's side, even before you became friends. You'd been commanded to watch him and he'd been trying to find a way to amuse himself. So while you'd been sitting outside his cell, he had kept teasing you about how easy magic was and how everyone but him was incapable to do it. After a few hours you'd been fed up with his teasing and therefore simply imitated what he'd been doing to demonstrate his skills. To both your great surprise, you actually could do it on the first attempt. From that moment on, your relationship had changed and so had your opinion about each other.

"There, done." You smiled, content with your work. Then you pushed the door open and led Loki towards the elevators.

"You're such a quick study…" He chuckled deeply as you rode up to the main floor. "There are so many things I'm going to show you."

His voice made your skin crawl with excitement and your thoughts run wild, but you stopped yourself. "Right now you're not going to do anything but getting some rest."

"I could've done that in my cell…" He sighed. "Why did we have to go up here?"

"Because that thing you call a bed is no place to get proper rest. It even hurts to just sit on it for a few minutes!" You protested. "And I want to keep you around me without having to sit on the floor in your cell."

"Oh, so you're doing this for selfish reasons." He smirked. "I like that."

You smiled, but otherwise ignored the comment and led Loki towards your room. Yeah, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do when you wanted to keep things between you on a friendship level for now. But to you, it was the most comfortable place in the compound and the only one you were sure Loki would enjoy as well.

You kicked your door open and walked into the room, sitting Loki down on your bed.

"So this is where you live?" He asked as he looked around. Even when sick, Loki was still incredibly attentive towards his surroundings and you admired that.

"Yeah. I mean I've been living here for the last two years, but you know… not really by choice." You sighed, picking up some random items from the floor and returning them to their place.

"I know… I wouldn't call my own cell 'home' either. Only that yours is better decorated." 

The comment made you laugh and you watched Loki sitting on the edge of your bed for a while. 

"You should lay down, you know… sleep a little. I promise you'll feel better afterwards." You smiled at him. "I'll even make you some soup if you're being nice."

"And if I'm not?" He grinned while still following your suggestion and laying down on top of the covers.

"I'll return you to your cell." You winked, still smiling at him. "And you look really uncomfortable, you know that? Battle armor isn't quite the right thing to sleep in."

With a groan he changed his clothes into a plain shirt and sweatpants. "Happy now?"

"I will be when you get under the covers and sleep."

"I don't want to."

"Please, Loki…" You sighed. "I know relentless teasing is an essential part of our relationship, but I'm seriously worried about you and I need you to get better before the others return."

"Why?" He asked, his voice finally turning hoarse from all the talking.

"Because they will actually end you if they find you outside of that cell and put me in it instead. And it's gonna be boring as heck without you and I don't want to be bored, so please, for once in your life just do what I tell you." You said with a certain sense of urgency that told Loki you were actually very serious about this. 

"Okay." He said quietly, slipping under the covers and curling up into a ball. 

To say you were surprised was an understatement. Sure, you've been friends for a while now, but he liked to keep the upper hand at all times. You could live with that and had gotten rather used to him arguing about basically anything you asked him to do only to finally compromise on something that worked for both of you. But having him at your mercy, vulnerable and ACTUALLY LISTENING to what you said… that was new.

"Try resting a little, I'll get you some soup and hot tea." You said quietly while replacing your battle gear with a simple sweatshirt. 

"Thank you." Was all he said, keeping his eyes closed and hugging the covers tightly to his slender body.

As you walked to the kitchen, you couldn't help but wonder if he would still be there when you returned. It wasn't like you doubted his friendship or his sincerity in being sick, but you knew that he valued his freedom over absolutely anything else. And while you were desperately in love with the man in your bed, you doubted that he would know what romantic love even felt like. But that was fine, being upset about it would've been like being upset that one couldn't touch the stars. Some things simply are the way they are and you can't expect them to be different just because you wanted them to be. However when you returned to your room a good while later, you found Loki as you had left him, only that he'd turned around and had his back towards you now.

"I'm not sleeping." He sighed quietly once you entered the room. "Couldn't…"

"Sorry to hear that." You replied in the same tone. "I made you soup… I don't know if you'll like it, but I would very much appreciate it if you would try it, at least."

Without a single complaint he sat up and took the large bowl from you, leaving you to set the teapot and two mugs you had somehow managed to carry at once down on the nightstand.

Then you kicked off your shoes and sat down on the other side of the large bed, with your back against the headboard.

"This is probably the best food I've had in over a year." He commented at random, slowly emptying the bowl. 

You smiled widely, enjoying the tingles his compliment gave you. "Glad to hear that. It's nothing special, just soup really…"

"Well, if anything, I was given some bread occasionally… until you started bringing me snacks." He smiled a little, placing the now empty bowl on the nightstand.

"I should've brought you proper food…" You sighed, cursing yourself for your cowardice.

"You did everything you could. I'm sure people would've noticed you bringing down more than what you did." He replied calmly and a while of silence followed with the two of you just sitting next to each other, Loki under the covers and you on top of them.

"Uh, do you want to sleep?" You finally asked.

"I wish I could…" He grumbled, leaning his head against the headboard and closing his eyes.

"I can leave if you want." You suggested.

"No, I wish for you to stay." He hummed. "Your presence has a calming effect."

You chuckled. "A calming effect? Me?" 

"I feel safer when you're around." He breathed, coughing, and your eyes widened upon hearing that. One could say a lot about Loki, but not that he was being open about his feelings. Ever.

"Okay…" You replied, both touched and surprised. "If you can't sleep… do you maybe want to watch a movie?"

"Haven't ever done that. So why not…?" 

Quietly you got up, selected a film you thought he would enjoy and placed your laptop on top of the table at the end of the bed. Then you got back on it and under the covers.

"Thank you. For the soup and the tea." He said quietly and got comfortable next to you. Even if technically you didn't touch, you could still feel the heat of his body all the way on your skin.

For a few hours you simply sat next to each other, watching movie after movie in silence and drinking tea together. It had already gotten dark outside and your room was only illuminated by the screen of your laptop. 

"I feel beyond tired." Loki sighed after hours of silence. 

"Do you want to sleep?" You asked in return.

"Can't." He replied shortly, like he had done before.

"Why not?" You frowned, curious why he kept saying that. You knew that he did in fact sleep from time to time, even if only seldomly.

"Can't tell you."

"You can't or you don't want to?" You turned your head to him, leaning it again the headboard. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But please tell me if there's anything I can do to help… to make it better?"

He sighed, turned to look away, sighed again and looked back at you. "Do you remember that one time when you won the bet about the witch and the robot man?"

"You mean Wanda and Vision? Sure, I said they were totally in love and you said they weren't. I definitely won that one." You grinned, relishing the memory.

"Yeah, but do you remember your… prize, for winning?" He sounded both eager for you to remember and wishful that you wouldn't.

"Oh, I definitely do!" You smiled. "I got to braid your hair."

"And I said I hated it."

"Yeah, you did." You laughed at the memory of angry Loki with an Elsa braid. 

"That was a lie."

"Oh." You said in surprise. Usually you could see through his lies, but that one you must've missed.

"Do it again."

"Braiding your hair?"

"Not…" He halted, closing his eyes and looking very much torn and you realized that asking for something like this must indeed be very hard for him. 

"I know." You smiled gently at him and sat down accordingly. "Come here…" 

With one last doubtful glance, he laid down with his head in your lap, wrapping himself around you as closely as he could. Gently you placed your hand on his head, collecting a few loose strands of hair from his face. With a small smile you let yourself play with his hair, brushing it with your hands and letting small strands run through your fingers like tiny black rivers.

The moment held such an intimacy it made your eyes flutter shut in pure delight and comfort. How could anyone think that this fragile being in your lap was a monster… you made a silent promise to end anyone who dared to think like that.

"My mother used to do this when I was having nightmares as a child." His deep voice broke the silence after a few blissful minutes.

You felt your eyes water, but you smiled nonetheless. He never talked about his family. "I'm sure she is an amazing woman."

"She was incredible…" His voice was but a mere whisper. "Just like you are."

In that very moment your heart burst with love and adoration and you couldn't say anything for a moment, lost in the overwhelming feelings. So he continued.

"I cannot sleep because of the nightmares. Horrible, haunting dreams that would simply break me. Normally I can keep them away for a while, with magic, but now… I cannot." He said quietly. "I'm scared, Y/n… Scared of waking up to the those dreams becoming my reality."

You willed away the huge lump in your throat and the shaking of your hands. "Loki…"

"Please Y/n… don't." He replied quietly, still holding onto you tightly. "Don't pity me. I don't deserve it."

"No… You deserve better." You said determinedly and scooted yourself lower to lay next to him, allowing Loki to hug you even closer while you wrapped your arms around him.

"I'm here. And I will be here when you wake up." You said as you placed your head on top of his, continuing to play with his hair. "I'm not much, but I'm all yours."

Loki sighed softly and for a while everything was silent. Comfortably silent, and you felt tempted to fall asleep yourself, but then his hold on you tightened even more.

"Y/n…" His voice was already heavy with sleep, but you were so close that you could hear his every breath. "I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat and you could feel him smile against you. So you smiled as well. "I love you too."

And for the first time in forever, Loki slept deeply and soundly, and without a single nightmare.

_______________

Bonus:

When the team returned from their mission, they found the compound deserted and with no camera footage of the last two days.

"What the actual hell has been going on?!" Tony shouted as he walked through the hallways.

"Tony… you should come to the living room." Natasha called from the distance.

Once he got there, she handed him a piece of paper. It was neatly written by hand and with a frown, he started to read.

Dear Avengers.

To make it short: Loki and I are gone, as you probably noticed. The possibility that you will find us is kind of non-existent, but we would very much appreciate to see you trying. However, you will find very little reason to bother yourselves with us. Loki promises that he won't attack earth again, or any other planet, and I promise that I'll make sure that he keeps said promise. Tony told me to watch over him and stay with him, every step of the way. And I'm dead set on doing just that.

With kind regards,

Y/n

______________________________

Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333

If you want to be added to my general tag list comment down below or send an ask 💗✨

[beckzorz]

caduto dalle nuvole (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 5012 Summary: A detour on a mission leads to destruction, and a discovery. Warnings: Canon-typical violence and gore. A/N: Happy Secret Seba, Paige @sebastiansloserclub​​!!!! It was a pleasure to write for you! Thank you to @jobean12-blog​​ for beta reading <3 The title, “caduto dalle nuvole,” is an Italian idiom that means literally “fallen from the clouds” and figuratively “taken aback.” Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy xoxo

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

You close the mission briefing and tuck the file under your arm as you stand, just barely controlling the tic in your jaw. “None, Captain.”

“Good.” His relief is palpable. “The jet leaves in ninety minutes. Good luck, agent.”

—

“I’ll be back,” Antonio says, and then he slams the barn door shut.

You gape. A key scrapes against a lock. Your heart stops for a horrible moment, and then you bolt forward.

“Hey!”

You slam into the door, body and door shaking from the impact. A chain rattles on the other side, and a car engine starts to purr.

“Hey!” you scream.

The car drives off, grinding against the gravel drive. You bang your fists against the door, rage clouding your vision, filling your veins.

Behind you, your partner lets out a breath and a thump. You turn, blinking away the red in your vision, and stare.

Bucky Barnes is sitting on a pile of hay, hands clasped between his spread thighs and his expression sardonic.

“Well,” he says. “That went well.”

You whirl back to the door, teeth clenched. You can’t manage a reply, not when it was his idea to hitchhike instead of taking the bus. Your own mother had hitchhiked across Europe in the seventies, but it’s not the seventies anymore. It’s decades later, and now… now you’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped!

“We’re literally locked in a barn,” you snap. “And you just want to sit there?!”

Bucky sighs. “Look, this guy clearly has something up his sleeve. I did some research in the back seat while you were being sociable. SHIELD’s made a note of this guy before. Our mission isn’t so urgent that we can’t delay a day to figure out what his deal is.”

You lean your shoulder against the door and gape at him. “What, you think Steve will just say, ‘Sure, Buck, that’s totally fine! It’s not like I specifically tasked you to find these dangerous terrorists or anything?’”

“Uh, that’s what he said, yeah.” Bucky shifts on the haypile and holds up his phone. “I texted him to check.”

“Typical,” you mutter. You turn back to the door, the start of a headache pricking at your temples. You crouch down and peer through the crack of the barn door, looking for the chain.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks. His voice seems small in the open barn.

You don’t answer. What’s the point? Surely it’s obvious. Why else would you be studying the way out except to break out? To enjoy the view?

Besides, it’s not like he ever tells you anything. If you hadn’t asked, would he have even mentioned he’d spoken with Steve?

He’s never told you anything he hasn’t needed to.

You stare at the chain through the gap in the door. It’s afternoon outside—if you rattle the door, you can see the sun glinting off the shifting links. Something to look at while you consider why your frustration is tinged with dejection.

When you’d first joined—when you were recruited, you’d had so much hope in Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier, stolen and used and come back to himself? It was your own story, if decades out of sync. Sam Wilson, bless him, even encouraged you to strike up a friendship with him. Sam, the only one who knew your whole story. Steve probably does by now too, but still. Sam was the first to know. He was the one who got out you. Got you free.

Of course, all the attempts you made to befriend Bucky fell flat. He was—and still is—polite, but unfathomably distant. Anyway, why would he bother opening up to you? He has Sam, Steve… Even Natasha, the only other person you might have felt comfortable talking to. He doesn’t like talking about his past, Steve once said. Try Natasha. But if you talked to her, she’d tell him everything.

And you don’t want to be talked about.

Not like that. Not by them.

You force yourself to your feet and step back. The hinges on the door are bolted in place—no easy removal there. Maybe a tool kit…?

The barn is dim, hazy. The sunlight streaming in from the small windows slants down in clouded beams, turning the hay-littered dirt floor into a mosaic of light and dark. And Bucky is all in shadow on his yellow throne. He’s barely moved since you last looked his way. Just sitting, and watching you.

“Did you see a toolbox anywhere?” you ask.

Bucky turns his head left, then right. “Nope.” He props his elbow on his knee and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. “Whatcha thinking?”

You prowl the perimeter, looking in every built-in shelf and drawer. “Unbolt the door hinges. Neither of us’d fit through the windows, and—wait a second.” You whirl to face him, quivering with relief. “Forget that. You can just force the door open!”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asks. He holds up his left hand—it looks like a regular hand for the mission, but under the smokescreen is that same vibranium, that same strength. “Do you really wanna advertise that the Winter Soldier is in Italy? Right now? While we’re on an undercover mission?”

“Um, regular people break through doors all the time, Barnes.” You dash over and try to pull him to his feet.

He doesn’t budge.

“Seriously?!” You drop his heavy arm, muscles tight and hands quivering. “Are you just going to sit there? And do nothing?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I am. And as mission lead, that’s the call I’ve made. So sit down and chill, firecracker.”

Your fists curl into balls and you stalk away.

Firecracker.

A nickname, one you’ve despised since the first time Natasha sang it out over the comms on a mission last month. Firecracker, of all things! Like you’re no more than a party trick. An object. Not even an animal. Not even something powerful. Firecrackers are all about a lot of noise, not power. And you…

You slow as you reach the door. The wood is rough as you slide your palms across it and press your forehead across the gap. Outside, it’s still bright. Still afternoon. Inside, it feels like a nightmare.

You haven’t been locked in anywhere on a mission since… since…

For a long time.

You don’t like it. You close your eyes, breathe in—the air in the barn is stale, but if you squish your nose enough, you can get a hint of freshness from outside. The door scrapes your cheeks as you settle yourself.

It’s okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be—

A hand on your shoulder: you spin, catch their wrist, and stop short when you realize it’s only Bucky.

“You okay?” he asks. Is that pity in his voice?

“Of course I’m fine!”

His skin is hot to the touch; he and Steve have always run warm, but it’s a strange feeling to be touching him like this. It’s not part of training, not part of a fight…

You drop his hand and sidle out from between him and the door. Your hands are still trembling. You straighten them out until your bones ache, fingers flexed and muscles straining. Even your jaw is trembling.

“You’re not,” Bucky says flatly. “What do you need?”

A hollow laugh escapes you. You lean against a pillow and slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. “To not be in here! What the hell do you think? That I’m thrilled to be locked in somewhere I’m more liable to disintegrate than not?”

“What do you…”

Bucky trails off. You don’t bother looking up at him. God knows what he thinks of you.

But it’s one thing to be in hiding. It’s another thing to be locked up. God, how can he bear it? After everything, how can he—how can you—how could you ever—

“Hey.”

Your head jerks up, your eyes wide. Bucky is kneeling a few feet away, his hands clasped between his knees. They both look like human hands; a smokescreen disguises his left. It’s a good disguise, but it looks wrong on him all the same. He—it’s not him, it’s not…

“Look at me, firecracker,” Bucky murmurs. Your eyes snap to his; your eyebrows draw low.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. “I’m not some toy.”

He blinks. “It’s a nickname. A term of endearment, not ridicule. Hell, Sam calls me Tin Man. Does that make me brainless?”

“Sam’s your friend!”

Bucky’s mouth drops open and his blue eyes round as saucers. “Wha—”

He stops mid-word. He cocks his head to the side. You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand, silencing whatever you’d been about to say.

His sudden silence, the way he’s listening—is someone coming?

You give Bucky a look, and he nods. You both let out a breath and stand silently. Whatever you’d been talking about, it has to wait. Right now, you’re done arguing.

Right now, you’re a team.

Tires screech outside; you look to Bucky for confirmation. He holds up three fingers.

Three vehicles.

How many people in them?

And why, why are they here? Did they recognize Bucky? He’s not immediately recognizable out of uniform, at least to the untrained eye—but are these trained eyes? Was Bucky’s face the only reason you got picked up on the side of the road? This kind of mishap has happened before…

Car doors open, footsteps crunch in gravel, and you flex your fingers and reach for that spot of warmth hidden in your chest. It reaches out, settles around your bones, through your veins until your fingernails glow. Bucky glances down, his lips quirk up, and then his eyes settle on yours. His pupils are wide with adrenaline, and he’s looking at you so intently your breath catches in your throat. Your fingertips are white-hot now, casting an eerie light from below.

He looks all the more terrible and wonderful for it.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

Your focus rams back into place. It’s just your mission lead, just Bucky. And there’s bigger fish to fry right now than the dark sky in his eyes.

“Ready.”

Bucky tilts his head towards the fused hinges on one side of the door. You press your hands against the top one, and the rusty metal begins to glow. Red drops of molten iron slide down catch on the wood, which begins to smoke. Licks of fire sprout from the jamb, and you hop back, shaking out the sparks from your fingertips.

Bucky maneuvers ahead of you and kicks the door open, wood splintering at the bottom, his left arm up. Twin shouts of surprise, two quick gunshots, and the door shudders from the impact.

“Get the other one!” Bucky snaps, pulling the bust-open door back into place as shouting begins in earnest.

You dash to the other door. Bullets pepper the door, but the wood is thick enough to contain them—for now. Something niggles at the back of your mind, but you push it away. Of course something’s wrong. But now’s the time to act, not think.

The second hinge disintegrates faster; the longer you go, the hotter you get. This is the longest you’ve ever lasted like this on a mission—usually you have guns, tools, equipment… Today you have only yourself.

Sparks fly, settling on your pants, little spots starting to burn away. The glow in your fingertips spreads down to your second knuckle, third knuckle…

Bucky pushes the two doors forward together, driving them forward like a shield wall against the god-knows-how-many people approaching. You stick close, scooping up a handful of gravel and shaping it in your palms. Gunshots ring out, striking the padlocked chain, the doors, the dirt at your feet.

“Get that damn thing on!” someone shouts.

A colossal hum groans into life, flooding your ears as you lose all sense of feeling. Bucky cries out, digs in his heels as he left arm shoots forward, but you’re a million miles away as the doors fall away from you and clatter to the ground. Dust clouds in the air as you realize that the molten rocks in your hands have dripped through your fingers, burning your shoes away. You step back, hands shaking, suddenly cold as the warmth in your chest fizzles out.

Then you run.

Gravel bites into your bare feet and makes way for tough grass. But there’s rocks here too, hidden ones, and within seconds you stumble, a sharp rock tearing a gash in the pad of your foot. Still you run, eyes burning more than your hands had been, ice settling fresh in your veins as footsteps pound behind you, harsh breathing that isn’t yours whistling in your ears.

A grunt, and someone’s hand brushes your arm. You gasp, air slicing against your screaming lungs, and pump your legs harder, harder—

“Augh!”

A hand catches your elbow, yanking your shoulder, yanking your whole body to the side as you keep going, heartbeat frantic, brain screaming, eyes barely seeing except to realize that this is the first you’ve seen again, and it’s just like you remembered, oh god, oh god; you pull your arm against the tight grip, but there’s no breaking free, the grip is too strong. You manage to get a few steps farther, dragging your assailant with you, but he digs in his heels.

Like Bucky dug in his heels.

Your eyes swivel in your head back to the barn, back to where Bucky is still fighting against some machine aimed at him, making waves in the air as it pulls at his left arm. Even from a distance, you can see he’s confused despite his bared teeth and furor. He glances your way, and the fresh strangeness in his expression takes you off-guard.

The other one who’d been chasing you grabs you, catching your other hand.

“Gotcha,” he grunts, breathless and gleeful.

You can’t take your eyes from Bucky. He’s looking at you more now. The tears pricking at your eyes make it impossible to read what he’s thinking, but you know.

The first one knees you in the gut; you fall to your knees, eyes watering afresh and nausea tickling the back of your mouth.

You know what Bucky is thinking. You’re just a firecracker. You’re useless. You’re a party trick—

You surge back to your feet, hand curling into a fist as you drive your knuckles into the first one’s neck. They choke, eyes blown wide and hand instinctively dropping from your elbow to clutch their throat. You swing your other arm, ready to drive it into their gut, but the second one catches your wrist, twisting your arm up behind you. You scream in pain—your pulled shoulder is useless now—and make to get out of their hold, but you’re caught, and someone else has come along now, and they kick you facedown into the grass. Still you persist, wriggling and kicking and trying to force yourself to your feet, to your knees, onto your back—to anything other than in the grass, blades prickling against your cheeks and mouth and nose.

God knows how, but you manage to twist over and drive your foot into someone’s crotch. They squeal and hobble back, and you grit your teeth through the pain and push yourself up before someone drives a foot into your stomach again, slamming you back onto the ground.

“Stay down!”

It’s the second man, the one who’d pulled your shoulder. He steps heavy on your chest until your bones creak, and you scream from the pressure, the pain.

“Stop, you idiot!”

You freeze. Your scream dies in your throat. The man lifts his foot away, and even through your tears you can see his scowl.

That voice—

No. No.

No.

You curl your fingers into the grass. It’s alive in your hands. Something alive, that thinks no ill of you, that wants nothing from you, something green and alive and you are not going to let them take you again.

With a cry, you push yourself up and launch yourself at the man who’d held you down. Your punch to his jaw sends him reeling. There’s nothing left of the warmth from in the barn in your chest, but you reach for it anyway, desperate, as you dash towards the man whose voice you never want to hear again.

He’s holding a gun, pointed loosely at you, his suit clean as ever and his hair as short. His eyebrows are raised, as if he’s surprised, but you don’t care, you don’t care, all you want is to break is neck and never let him speak another word as long as he—

Crack.

White-hot pain lances through your hip as he shoots, but you keep going until you’re on top of him and he’s in the dirt and your hands are around his neck and you’re squeezing and then your hands are on empty air as that idiot pulls you off.

You stumble a few feet away. There’s no warmth for you to pull at, but sparks shoot intermittently from your fingers as you snarl, blood pulsing at your hip. The idiot has a cattle prod in his hands, and he’s thrusting it at you, the buzz sending shocks through you long before it touches you.

The boss, on his knees, lurches forward towards the two of you, his eyes comically wide.

“Don’t—”

The cattle prod hits you.

White.

All you can see is white.

White fire burns in your veins, under your skin, burning searing screaming—

—

White fire flares out from where you’re caught between a bunch of the goons. Something explodes. For a moment, the whole area is flooded with white, turning the world into static. Bucky’s heart stutters—he can’t see you, where are you, what have they done to you?

A wave of heat hits him with such intensity that he shouts, his arms automatically flinging up as protection. The world goes white; something clatters nearby.

Arms? Arms?

Yes, both arms. What happened to the electromagnet? Was it the heat?

Whatever it was, he’s free. He lurches towards where the electromagnet had been, teeth gritted against the pain of the heat in the air. He can hear frightened breathing, swearing—fuck fuck fuck fuck fu—and he pounces, landing awkwardly on someone’s shoulder, but not so awkwardly that he doesn’t knock them unconscious before they can land a single blow. He stumbles off of them, ears cocked for any other noises, any other sounds, but all he hears are footsteps running haphazardly away.

They’ll get found, eventually. Right now, he can’t leave. Not without knowing what’s happened to you.

Bucky’s vision clears slowly. It’s still uncomfortably hot—sweat beads on his forehead, on his neck—but there’s a slow breeze. There’s a column of smoke to his right, where you’d run off to, and he slowly moves in that direction as he blinks away the whiteness from his eyes.

Every step forward, the heat intensifies. There’s no more grass, just dirt, with black smoke spiraling up from the bare ground. Sweat drips down the hollow of his back, catches in his eyebrows—he shakes his head, teeth bared, and forces himself forward.

What the hell happened?

Had they come for him, or you? Why would they have come for you? Whatever he thinks of you personally, your powers have never seemed that extraordinary to him. Your work at the barn, turning wrought-iron hinges into molten metal in seconds—that’s the most impressive thing he’s seen out of you to date.

Whatever had happened, the white fire and the horrible heat and the whole world gone white—that can’t have been you. But you can’t be burned, can you? Whatever it was, it can’t have hurt you.

Could it have?

He breaks into a run, squinting. A shadow on the ground catches his eye.

Bucky freezes in his tracks.

A corpse, burnt nearly to the bone. Red-hot metal pools under its pelvis—a belt buckle? A gun? No, that’s the gun there, with the extra charring on the ground. Is that what had exploded earlier? Must be.

Bucky’s mind fast-tracks past the corpse. If this is what had happened to someone else…

He steps over a charred, skeletal foot, his heart in his throat as he squints against the hot smoky air.

If that’s what happened to someone else, how could you have survived?

Bucky’s eyes water more than ever as he walks faster. “No no no,” he mutters. “That’s not…”

Another charred corpse, this one truly burnt to the bone, tendons just barely holding it together. Tears track down Bucky’s cheeks as his eyes run from the long foot up the leg, over the hipbones—

A bare foot is caught in the ribcage. A skull cradled against a bare hip, scraps of charring fabric caught in the sockets. One hand, full and alive and covered in soot, flung across your belly.

Bucky falls to his knees and crawls forward until a tear falls onto your sooty skin. Your face is turned away from him. His hands quiver as he reaches for you—for the first time, he realizes the smokescreen has died—and touches your shoulder, the back of your hand. You’re still, too still, and your skin is cold to the touch. He can hear your heartbeat, but it’s faint as a whisper and slower than molasses. There’s no sound of breathing.

“Breathe, dammit,” he mouths.

He nudges you, presses down on the hand over your belly, trying to force some movement in your lungs.

Nothing.

He takes your face in his hands; they’re shaking more than ever. He turns your head towards him, crying outright now.

“Please,” he breathes. He shifts his knees until he can bend his face inches from yours. If he has to get you to breathe by giving you breath himself, by god he’ll do it, he’ll do it a hundred times, a million, because you can’t be dead here on the ground, you can’t be, he won’t let you.

Bucky sucks in a breath, the smoky air stinging his lungs, but before he can pinch your nose shut, you shift, groan, and turn your head just enough so he can see your lips parting and a tear tracking down your cheek.

Relief washes over him like a tidal wave. For a moment, all he can do is close his eyes and press his forehead to yours. Your skin is still cold, but you’re not dead. You’re not dead. You’re alive. You’re alive, and you’re going to be okay. He’ll make damn sure of it.

One last shaky breath, and Bucky sits up on his heels. He shucks off his coat, tucks it around you, and hoists you into his arms. The skull rolls to the ground. He has to work the ribcage away from your foot with his own hand, but then he’s taking you away, back to the burning barn, away from… He glances back. It looks like a bomb has gone off. It looks…

It looks…

It looks like something he’s seen before.

Bucky’s steps slow as he stares down at the top of your head.

He’s seen this before.

The white blast. The scorched earth. The charred corpses.

He’s seen it in South Africa, in China, in Ukraine, in Venezuela. Terrorism attacks, with tenuous links aside from the identical carnage.

Monthly attacks that ended… the same month you joined the team.

It’s only habit that keeps him walking now. Force of habit, and how cold your skin is, and something past thought that has his throat clogged with horror. But he can’t drop you, no matter what conclusions his brain is coming to now.

The air is clearer here. The barn is on fire now, whether from your handiwork earlier or… or just now, he couldn’t say. But the breeze is blowing the smoke away. One of the three cars is missing—some of them must have fled, but someone will find them. Someone.

There’s an SUV with open doors. Bucky settles you in the passenger seat, careful to tuck his jacket around you properly as your head lolls. When you come to, there will be enough to explain.

There has to be an explanation.

There has to be.

Bucky pulls out his phone. Sam’s on speed-dial.

Sam’s voice, when he answers, is answer enough.

—

It’s cold.

The air is warm, but you’re cold, so cold. Like your heart is ice. You squeeze your closed eyes shut further and reach for that spot of warmth in your chest.

It’s not there.

You whimper, try again.

Nothing.

You’ve wrung yourself dry.

How—

Your faces twitches as you try to remember. All you remember is white, the static of whiteness.

Whiteness…

Your eyes pop open as you suck in a harsh, smoky breath, every muscle taut and shaking as you stare at the burning barn through—through a windshield? You’re in a car? Your heart pounds out of your chest. Did they put you in a car to take you away?

The door to your right is open; you lurch out of your seat and land on your bare knees in the gravel, one hand clutching the open door for support. You stagger to your feet. There’s no warmth in your chest and no strength in your bones, but you force yourself away, away, away—

A hand touches you, and you scream, flailing blindly until your wrist is caught.

“Hey hey hey, careful,” a soft voice says. Another hand settles on your waist, the hand on your wrist shifts until it’s holding yours, and it’s then that your eyes refocus on—

Bucky.

His eyes are wide, fixed on your face. You blink. His face is sooty, but there are clear tracks running down his cheeks. Was he—was he crying?

“You okay?” he asks.

His voice is still soft, still gentle. His eyes are still fixed on your face.

Whiteness…

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. You put your free hand on Bucky’s arm, head swimming. The gravel bites into your feet, and you wince.

Your shoes must have burned away. Your shoes, and—

A strangled breath escapes your throat as you realize. Your shoes burned away, your shoes and your clothes. You’re wearing Bucky’s jacket, but it falls only just past your hips.

God, what did he see? You stare at him again, only more confused than before. What happened?

Whiteness.

You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide.

You remember it all now, as starkly as if it was happening all over again. The run, the struggle, the gunshot, the cattle prod.

The whiteness.

“Did I—did—what—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispers. He gently wraps an arm around you and tucks you against his chest. “You’re okay. Sam is coming.”

Your hands wind into Bucky’s shirt, tugging it tight. You stare down at your bare feet as tears roll down your cheeks. Your left foot stings; are you bleeding? You shift your foot; yes, there’s blood on the gravel where you’d been standing. Your hip is less painful than you’d’ve expected, and you flex a muscle there experimentally. Something pulls at your skin—had Bucky patched you up? He must have.

Bucky.

What does he know?

“What…” You swallow. “What happened?”

“They set you off,” Bucky says.

You let out a slow breath. So he knows. You disentangle yourself from his hold and limp to the car; Bucky helps you along, and back up into the passenger seat. “Oh.” You turn away and look at the bottom of your foot, wincing. Yes, still bleeding.

“‘Oh?’” Bucky repeats incredulously.

You turn back to him, eyebrows raised. Bucky’s hands are wide open at his sides, as though he’s struggling to keep them from curling into fists.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” His voice is low, tinged with frustration. “Why didn’t I know?”

“Only Sam knows. Knew,” you correct. “He’s the one—”

“Who got you out,” Bucky finishes. He leans against the car, boxing you in. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I have told you?” you ask, voice flat.

Bucky stares, mouth open, argument flashing in his eyes. You lean your head back and close your eyes. You’re still groggy and cold and tired, and there’s no way out with Bucky standing so close. All you can do is answer him.

“Forget why, when?” you continue weakly. “We’ve never been particularly friendly.”

“I can’t help being shy, can I?” Bucky snaps.

“Yes you can.” Your chin drops a little; your eyes are still closed. “I did my best, to try and make friends with you. I thought… it’d be good for me. Have someone who knows what I went through.”

“I didn’t know,” he says. He’s not snapping now. He’s quiet, almost plaintive. “I wish I had. I wish Sam had told me. I wish…” He trails off, sighs.

You peek open an eye. Bucky leans on his arm against the open car door jamb, eyes closed, face downcast. He looks… he looks like he’s more weighted down than you are.

A little warmth flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real or just a hope.

You reach out and put a hand on his face. His skin is warm to the touch, as it always is. Bucky’s eyes pop open and he looks at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide and blue.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair not to tell you. Not… not when we were supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“I’ve got your back no matter what,” Bucky declares, and the warmth in your chest coils and warms you straight down to your fingertips.

There aren’t words for what you’re feeling. All you can do is crane your neck and press a kiss to his sooty cheek and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek again.

Bucky shudders in your hold, and it’s all you can do not to cry as he wraps an arm gently around you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “And I’m not letting go.”

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #26

Chapter 26: Misery

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 2 MOMENTS BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Mettaton zooms through the air, the speed makes it hard to try to look for anything I can lock-on as a potential landmark. The worst part, I can't tell if Flowey is able to follow or can reach this far safely. Who am I kidding? Flowey has the best odds of making it around here without a scratch. Unlike my dumbass.

"THIS WILL DO."

He lands faster than expected. The shock shacks my insides uncomfortably. I gag trying to keep my stomach from flying out.

"SORRY, DARLING. I'LL ATTEMPT TO BE GENTLER IN THE FUTURE."

He puts me down, my legs buckle like a baby calf's but I manage to stand.

"N-No worries. Just...Just give me a moment."

He chuckles and gets ready to blast off again.

"SO CUTE. NOW LISTEN UP...HOTLAND IS LEVELED OUT IN THREE PARTS. WE WERE ON LEVEL ONE. THIS IS LEVEL TWO. FROM THIS ROOM, MAKE A RIGHT AND CONTINUE ONWARD. YOU'LL NEED TO REACH THE ELEVATOR TO PROCEED. THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?"

I wave at him.

"Go right. Got it. *heavy sigh* Um...Are there more vents?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Metta?"

"TOODLES!"

He blasts off and I roar our swears. Oh well. No point fussing on that. If I'm lucky Flowey will have heard my shouting and come to help me. But this room...The path leading out is glass. The land isn't connected. Flowey would have to dive deeper to find a joining point, most likely it would be too deep and the heat harmful. I need to leave and not look down. I take a step but fumble, grabbing a random signpost to stop the fall.

"Damn it...Is this what jet-lag is?"

The sign's writing makes me curious.

[Art Club: Meet here! Next meeting: October 10th, 8PM]

Huh? Wait...What is the date and time? Argh! I have no sense for time anymore. Toriel has an out-of-date calendar that she refuses to change which doesn't help and the cellphone had the closest thing to a clock yet there's no telling if it was on time.

"Ahhhh!!! I'm late!!! I'm late!!! I'm so sorry!!!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a doughy butterscotch colored monster in a black fedora and vest comes rushing towards this spot with papers fluttering away from him. He's in such a damn hurry that he trips and ends up crashing, skidding to a stop inches from my feet.

"*grumble* Son of a..."

He picks himself up and quickly grabs what papers he can. He looks odd. I'm getting weird neck-bread vibes off him. It's probably the fedora. Maybe if he took it off and let his brown hair free...What the fuck, am I thinking like a girl? Ewww! Stupid girl thoughts! That's my once per month. No more.

"So stupid! Why am I so clumsy? I hate being such a klutz!"

Poor guy.

"Need some help?"

He flinches. Did...Did he just realize I was here?

"W-Who are you? This is my spot! Get out!"

"Whoa! Chill. No need to be so harsh, kangaroo-boy."

His eyes widen.

"Kangaroo..."

Ah...shit. I know that look by now. My blue soul comes out.

"I'M A BUTTERDRAGON!!"

[WRONG ENEMY !? begins to play in the background.]

...Fuck my life. Wait...What the fuck is a butterdragon?

[You're blocked in angrily!]

"I come here to find something to draw. And what do I find? Some ignorant bitch that wouldn't know a masterpiece if it smacked her in the face!"

Is he referring to himself?

"It's time someone taught you a lesson! Consider it a gift. Let me look in my vest!"

He spins around and swings at me with his tail. It's coated in light blue magic. Fine. I don't move. It turns orange. I jump over it. It turns blue for two more swipes before turns around.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

"Oh! Whoops! That had to hurt! So sorry, I must have..."

He freezes seeing nothing happened to me.

"You...You're fine?"

I shrug. No point opening my mouth. He talks enough for the both of us.

[The enemy looks nervous.]

"Ummm, I...I couldn't find anything I want to give away. *softer* Not that I wanted to give you anything. *normal* Wait, wait! *laugh* I've got my notebook! I can draw you a picture in it! I'm quite the artist, you know. I'll draw you a GREAT picture!!!"

"It's not your turn."

He flinches.

"Oh...Right."

I look at my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

What even is that button? Eh...I don't need it. Not with this guy.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[SOMETHING]

What's with all the weird shit? Just be simple damn it.

[CHECK selected.]

[SO SORRY (REAL NAME, SAMAEL "SAM" D. BUTTERDRAGON) – HP: 1100  ATK: 9 DEF: -6 – This creature is definitely in the wrong time and space!]

Time and space...How the hell does he have negative defense?! That's a thing?!

"My turn!"

My thoughts are broken. He turns around to draw in his notebook, attacking once more with his tail. Blue swish. Orange swish. Blue swish. Blue swish. Orange swish. Orange swish.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Again he doesn't understand how I got away with no damage. Dude, I can't help that you're attack is obviously telegraphed.

[The enemy looks anxious.]

"S...sorry...The drawing didn't come out very well. Wait! I know the problem! I just have to find a better piece of paper for it!"

"I'm not sure that's how drawing works. But you do you."

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

"I don't want your pity."

Was worth a shot considering the way this fight's going.

"I'll settle on a draw-ing if that's better."

I emphasize the pun with a teasing wink. He gets a little frazzled.

"Uh...Don't do that again. Like...ever."

Screw it. I want to have some fun.

"Why? Are you gonna pun-ish me?"

His right eye twitches.

"Stop it."

"I have an ink-ling this is getting to you. But trust me...You paint seen nothing yet."

Getting frustrated he yanks at his hair before turning around and chucking crumpled balls of paper at me from over his shoulders. Finally, something I need to dodge that will take effort. Each toss has three balls and he does this ten times. The dude's wasting perfectly fine paper. Shameful.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm starting to think he's getting bothered by his inability to hurt me.

[The enemy looks perturbed.]

Called it.

"N-None of my papers are good enough to use..."

[SPARE selected.]

"It's not the tools. They don't create. They are but aids. It's the artist. Their skill and heart. That is key. Anyone can draw. It's as easy as breathing. But if you stress out and push too hard, if you forget to enjoy yourself...Then even what you'd call your masterpiece will never be good enough."

He looks at me funny.

"My advice, Mr. Butterdragon...Don't try to make something as others expect it to be made. Create something as you want it to be. Only then will you be happy with it. I would know. I'm a dabbler at doodling and there's something so...interesting...in being able to take a pencil and transfer an image that you only saw in your head to paper. Though I can never seem to get hands just right."

I look at my hands.

"Weird flesh sticks. Why are you so hard to draw?!"

He thinks for a moment. But then...

"THAT'S IT!!! I know what I can do!! I'll use my magic pencil! It has to be under some of these papers somewhere!!!!"

I take it he's still bent on attacking to prove he can draw. He goes back to tossing paper and by this point, I found a spot to just stand in where nothing falls near, so I wait till he's done.

"Here! I got it! My magic pencil is amazing! Everything I draw with it looks..."

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

This fight is so boring. I mean, I'm grateful to not have my ass kicked or beaten within moments of death's door, but...Is he really trying? Froggits try harder than this.

"Why aren't you hurt?!"

I cover my mouth in a yawn.

"Dude, can you let me spare you already? I need to get to level three before Mettaton has a fit."

[SPARE selected.]

He didn't like hearing this.

[The enemy taps his fingers together like jackhammers.]

"I'll show you. I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!! I AM A REAL ARTIST!!"

With pencil in hand, he scribbles into the air and much to my understanding of reality he adds two horned demons doodles to fight on his side.

[DOODLEBOG – HP: 100 ATK: 8 DEF: 999 – Art lets your wildest fantasies come to life!]

"Like I was saying...Anything I draw with this pencil becomes COMPLETELY REAL! But in your case, a little too real!"

I can't help the odd smirk that crawls across my lips.

"Finally..."

I stretch and pop some joints.

"I was starting to fall asleep. Show me what you've been holding back. Let the creativity flow!"

Both Doodlebogs launch eight doodle orbs in circle formations at me. The good news, there's room to move and enough spacing to do some fun maneuvering. The bad news...It's still freaking easy! They shoot this move twice before their turn ends. And still...

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm disappointed. And so is he.

"What...How...?!"

[The enemy is confused.]

I shake my head. Seems that's all he's got. Though, to his credit, those drawings need to go. But how do I do that? Hmmm...Maybe...

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[DRAW]

[SOMETHING]

What's this? Oh...Oh hell yeah.

[DRAW selected.]

"W-Wait...You can't..."

I grab my soul, not sure what else I'm to use, and trace out a large cat that glows like my soul.

"Sketch-kitty, pounce the Doodlebog on the left!"

The cat does as commanded, pouncing at the Doodlebog and they tussle off the side to the heat death below. He panics.

"How dare you use art against me! Don't just stand there, kill her!"

The remaining Doodlebog fires the same attack as before but done three times in rapid secession. I harder move yes, but one that still leaves spots open wiggle on through.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[The enemy is desperate.]

"H-Hey now...There's no need to do anything crazy. I-I shouldn't have attacked you. That was dumb. W-We good?"

Huh...I don't know if he's being truthful. I try to use MERCY but the button doesn't push in. Something is locking it. I wonder if it's because of the doodle? Is it affecting the battle conditions? To be safe, I'll return things to how they were.

[DRAW selected.]

"You're cheating! You have to be! No one can be this good!"

I roll my eyes while tracing out a massive snake.

"Sketch-snake, put the squeeze to the Doodlebog."

It strikes with the speed of a viper and coils the doodle like a constrictor. The doodle fights back, clawing at the sketch. The sketch knows what its mission is. It throws itself and the doodle over the edge, so now it's only the two of us. He is at a loss what to do.

[The enemy uses a hypnotizing 3D-tush-wiggle attack. Smells... furry.]

I think he's freaked out and out of options. His strongest move, an insane trump card, and I not only countered it but bested it.

[The enemy is apologizing to its visions of the Reaper.]

...What?

"I've messed up. I've really messed up. Oh no. I'm so dead! No...No. I won't let you kill me."

"Dude, I'm clearly not trying to kill you."

"I won't let art die!"

"And you're not listening."

"I'll use this regular pencil! I'll use 100% of best! There is no way you'd kill the maker of such a fine piece!"

He turns around and scribbles furiously. His tail swipes quickly and paper balls fly like crazy. This creates difficulty because trying to dodge the balls is made harder when trying to either stand still for light-blue attacks or move for the orange ones. Orange tail, orange tail, blue tail, blue tail, orange tail, and blue tail. This is how he should've been going at me from the start. It's a good attack.

[HP ███████████████████████████ 27/40]

"Are you ready!? I just finished! Here's your picture!"

He's so proud of it that he doesn't even notice that he finally did damage to me. The picture is a heart.

"What do you think!? It's a representation of your deepest essence... It's great, right!?"

I don't say a word. What did he mean by that? How is a heart my deepest essence? Is it a picture of my soul and souls are the essence of life? How the fuck did he being about so much thought with a heart?! My silence has him become uncomfortable.

"... (They think my art is terrible.) Well! I'll leave you with that thought! Goodbye! See you later! Sayonara! Nice knowing ya! Hasta la vista. ... I should leave."

He attempts to leave but he freezes when I quickly grab his tail.

"Um..."

"That image...You poured your heart into and it shows. It made me think. Art does that. It makes you think and feel. You did that to me. ...10 out of 10."

His eyes widen.

"R-Really?"

I nod and let his tail go...only to get a sappy hug from the butterball.

"Thank you!"

I made his day. He was trying to kill me and is now hugging me over a compliment. I think this is over.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 318 gold.]

Holy shit! I'm rich!

The battle music fades out as he lets me go. My soul returns to me.

"Did you...Did you really like it?"

I nod.

"You gave it your all. That makes it special. Keep that spirit and don't be afraid to try other styles. You'll be amazed at what you can do if you try."

"Like your animals?"

"Animals have always been easy for me. It's people that are my weak-link. Um...Can I see that pencil for a sec?"

He hands me his notebook and normal pencil, to which I make two different drawings. One, a traditional European dragon spouting flame. This is my specialty, I can make these almost with my eyes closed. But the second one is my try at an anime version of myself. I use the eraser a lot on the face, hands, and chest. It never looks right to me once I'm okay with another part of the body. Yet I know I can't spend ages on this so I hand it over when I believe it looks okay.

"See what I mean now?"

"What are you talking about? These are great."

"Exactly..."

He's confused.

"Even when it's good, I still think I suck. But it's that negativity that spurs me to try harder. One day, I shall get those parts down and be happy with it without erasing whole bits out of frustration or doubt in ability. So...yeah...Keep those. Let them help you. Inspire you to be better in spite of others and yourself. Refuse to give up. And never surrender."

He gives me a funny look and I rub the back of my head with a nervous laugh.

"Heh...I have no idea where I was going with that. I tend to ramble when trying to be positive."

A small smile comes to him as he takes a few steps past me.

"I think I get what you're saying. If it's all the same to you...I think I want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit. Might see what ideas come."

I smirk.

"Take care, buddy. May the Muses inspire you to greatness."

I leave the butterdragon to his thoughts and not look down at the glass path that must be crossed. Yet it's doing so that alarms my brain. The land is not solid rock. The land is being supported by thick metal pipes and trussed beams that don't look like they're meant to be used here. I'm conflicted, I feel safe and unease at the same time. It also doesn't help I don't have Flowey with me. I need him. I don't like proceeding without my bro. So...

"Flowey! Bro, I'm up over here! Hurry up!"

Not expecting a response, least of all right away, I aim to head out slowly in hopes that he'll catch up to me before I really need him. But the path actually branches like a 4-way intersection and I get confused. Left is probably back to level one but what's the forward path? I shrug and check it out. Not like I have a killer robot to appease because I'm on TV. Thankfully, it's an empty spot of land. Scratch that. An empty spot of land with some trash on it.

[There's an apron lying on the ground.]

Really? That scrap's an apron?

I inspect the ragged thing and find it's in better shape than it looks.

[Will you take it or leave it?]

This option leads me to believe it's a human item. Probably pairs with this frying pan. Yes, I want it.

[You got the Splattered Apron.]

...Do I wanna equip it? Ugh...I tie the apron around my waist but backwards so it covers my ass.

[You equipped the Splattered Apron.]

[You gain 11 Defense.]

[Are the splotches from food, an enemy, or the former wearer? You don't want to know. Heals 1 HP every other turn.]

Wait...Did it say...?!

[HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 38]

Holy shit! Score!

"So...Does that only work in fights?"

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Huh. Guess not. Yet it said every other turn so who knows what that counts as.

I leave to continue all while paying half-attention to my HP. 1 point healing is better than nothing, though it's gonna be a while before I'm healed completely.

It's warm on this level. Still hot but not as bad as level one. Digital cords pulsate with energy from deep down to high above me. And in the distance...a massive mechanical structure. It sits in the lava like a slumbering leviathan. Imposing, mysterious, and giving off the vibes of "STAY THE FUCK AWAY". I better not have to go there.

After a short stroll, I come upon an obstacle or, as monsters put it, a puzzle. There are two conveyor belts, one going forward and the other back towards me. The forward one has three of those thick metal pipes near it and each pipe has a switch. At the end, there's what looks to be a Tesla Coil set up to prevent safe passing. Putting the bits together is easy. I step on the belt and keep walking, flipping the switches as I go. The third flip turns the current off and I can progress.

I regret this.

Literally forty feet away I'm met by those fucking vents. However...beside the vents is a large conveyor belt made of three merged ones. That's moving at the same speed as the one I was just on. Idea time. I dash jump across the belts. Leaping just in case someone somewhere decides to mess with the speed. Lucky me, no dick moves were made and I avoided doing my scarier backup plan of climbing on the support trusses. At least the path is clear now, which is good.

The heat begins to climb as I approach pumping stacks of hot gas. It makes the air thick and hard to breathe. The sooner I get past these things the better. Part of me questions why I don't hoof it on a crawl and then I have to remind that part that the land is inclining upward so it's bloody pointless. My throat is drying out, my lungs burn, and my eyes sting even with the tears trying to soothe the pain. Even the sounds of gears grinding in the background is starting to irritate my senses. But all this just makes me strive forward more to get back to some form of normalcy. Augh...What's my HP at now?

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Keep moving, slowpoke."

My blurry eyes spy a white speck among all the orange-brown.

"Bro?"

Something wraps around my wrist and pulls me slowly, leading me like a child helps an elder cross the road. Soon the air is clear and wiping my eyes lets me see Flowey. A very welcoming sight indeed.

"Bro!"

"Good to see you too."

"How did you get up here? The land is broken."

"Not all of it. I pretty much climbed up one high point, crossed over to another, and repeat till I got here. Did you forget how nimble I can be?"

I smack my forehead making him snicker.

"Sometimes it scares me to think how you've managed to not die."

He gets a chuckle out of me.

"Same."

We move on...only to be blocked by two heavily armored guards. One is a rabbit or hare and the other is more of a dragon than butterball was. Adorning fierce, brutal, and intimidating black armor bearing the blood-red Deltarune insignia. On their helms, shoulders, and wrists are jagged threatening spikes. But the real danger that has my attention are the very large swords.

"Are you shitting me?"

"They...aren't supposed to be here."

I look at Flowey funny and he flinches.

"I mean...They don't usually..."

"*mumble* Timeline bullshit. *normal* Fuck it...Yo! Can you two move? We need to reach level three...please?"

I'm sure that saved it from all my attitude.

"Human..."

Nothing good has ever happened to me when someone says "human".

"You're late."

Oh. Well, that's different.

"For...?"

They point their swords at me.

"Your funeral."

"Really? Was that the best you could come up with?"

The rabbit shrugs.

"I thought it was pretty tough."

The dragon punches his arm.

"I told you it was weak."

"It's not like we had a lot of time to come up with something better."

"Right. All the direction Mettaton gave us was 'stall her' while he does stupid crap."

"Let's just get this over with before the Captain finds out."

They rush towards me...then stop. But not a normal stop. They're frozen in place. I look at Flowey, he's stuck in mid-sink into the ground. The hell is going on? It's as if...as if time stopped?

"Sans? Sans, is this you? Where are you?"

White noise, like static on a TV. It pierces my ears as if it were stabbing my very brain. Covering my ears does nothing to stop it. I drop to my knees.

"Sa҉ns͏..̕."

A voice barely solidifies in the sounds assaulting my hearing.

"H͞è's n̢ot he̡r͠e,͟ l͡i̡ttl͡e ͜on̴ę.̨ He ͞can'͏t ̸in̵tęr͜f̛ere҉ w̧i̧th o͝úr̨ f́u͟ņ."

I muster the strength to turn my head and am confronted by a grayed-out monster with a blacked-out face holding a smaller face in its hand. The face looks at me with a small creepy smile. My eyes widen. The face spoke. And it speaks in rhyme. What the fuck?!

"What the hell are you?"

"M̛e? I̕'҉m͠ ͡a ̨f̡o͢l͜l͘ow̵er ̡of̶ ͘the g͠rea͝t Royal͏ ͟Sc͞ien͘t͝i͝st͟,̢ D͜ơc̢tor̕ ̵W̛.D. ̵Gast̀e͞r̀.͘ On̵e day͞,̨ h́e ͝va͝n͞i͡sh̀e͜d͘ w̷itḩou̕t̡ a҉ t́r̶ąc̛e.͝ T̛hey͞ ͠s̡a̢y҉ ̷he ҉s̡hat̕te̶r̷ed ͝ac̛ross̡ ti҉m͠e̴ an͘d̢ ҉s̨pac͘e. Ha H̷a͞.͝..̡ho͠w ̧c̸án I͞ s͠ay̢ s̸o͏ wit͟ho̴u͘t ͘f̶e͟a̸r͘?͝ ̸I'm h̸o͜l͘ding͞ a ̴p̵ie͘ce҉ ͜of̡ h͡im ̶r̶iģht͢ ͢her͞e."

This...This shit right here triggers something primal in me...I get genuinely freaked out. Fleeing like a puppy that just met the big noisy vacuum for the first time. And yeah, this was an overreaction. I've dealt with some insane shit at this point, you'd think I'd be hardened like a soulless speck of dirt. But no. That made me too unsettled and any tough wall I had crumbled. I zoom past the few other frozen in time monsters along the way till I reach the elevator. I spam hit the button, praying it will ignore the fact time is dead and let me in something that I can pretend is safer than out here.

*BING*

A sound other than static? There is a god!

The doors shift open and a grayed-out bird monster with terrible posture along with a grayed-out small humanoid monster stop me in my tracks.

There is no god!

"D͏r.̡ G̴as͝t̶e͠ŕ..͝.͡H̛i͞s brìllia͢n͝cé w͡a҉s̸ ͞irr̷e̶p͞l͞ac͢eabl̨e̶.̷"

"҉W͢hat͏ a̡n ̢áct to ̴foll̕o҉w͟! T́h͘e̷y ̨s͠ay̨ ͏h̶ę c͢r̨eat̛e̴ḑ t͜h͜e͜ ͞C̕O͜R̷E̶."

"Hoẁe͘v͢e̕r, h͜i͏s ͞life҉..͝.̸was ͠c͡u͡t s͘hort."

They say ominously together.

"O͡ne̕ ͟d́a͢y̕,͝ h̵i͟ś ҉ex̵pęri͜m̨e̵ntś w̧ent̡ ̸wr̢on͜g̢, ͡an̡ḑ..̀."

"He̴ fe̸l̢l̡ ̕i͞n̴t͜o ̀hi̵s͡ cr̷eat̀i͢ón̢."

"Węll,̴ ͝w̡e҉ needn̨'͡t͠ gos̕s̕i҉p.̧ A̷f͢t͠e͟r al̵l͏,̷ ҉i̸t'ş ̧rude to ̀tal͡k̨ ab͏o̢u͠t̛ s҉o̵me̢o͘n҉è w̛h͢o̕'s l̷i̕s͢te̡n͢ing.̸"

They grab me and pull me in before my body chooses to run.

"*snarls* Let go you creeps!"

"D̵o̵n't ̕st͠r̴ưg̷gle̵,̧ l͡i͞t̕t̛l҉e o͟n͡e.́"

"̸Yo̷u ͝d͞o͠n͏'t̴ w͡an̸t ̴harm to co͢me̛ to̷ ̡t̀h̢e̵ flo͜wer͞.̡"

Oh fuck...I left Flowey with the creepy face-hand thing. I cease my fighting.

"G҉o͡od͞ ̷ģir̡l."

The doors shut with a quickness.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

They watch as the human and flower are confronted by the two Royal Guards. And of course, they do as they've been trained. Attack the human. But something weird happens. The guards begin to attack and the screen of the TV glitches into static before the picture returns. Only now the guards have stopped their action and the flower, which was retreating from danger, pops back out in confusion along with everyone else. The human is gone. It happened within the blink of an eye. One second she was there and the next she's not. And now the screen cuts to a "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" image. What is going on?

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne and Alphys are equally as perplexed as everyone else that's tuned in.

"Alphys, where did the human go?"

Undyne irritatedly asks through her teeth. On her end, Alphys is switching through camera feeds like crazy.

"I'm looking! I'm looking!"

The screen swaps from camera to camera and multiple different angles. But there's nothing. Sure, there are monsters. Some just going about their lives. Some slacking around. Even an embarrassing shot of a Pyrope shoving a sandwich into the top of a Vulkin. But no sign of the human on level two.

"Where are you, damn it?!"

"Stop!"

Undyne's shout makes Alphys jump.

"Go back five clicks."

And so she does. The feed is an odd far shot from the gas stacks. It can just barely view the guards let alone the flower who suddenly ducks away. The guards seem even more confused.

"What are we looking for?"

Undyne points at the screen and Alphys sighs.

"If I can't see it on my end, you pointing from a distance does nothing for me!"

Undyne growls.

"Look up, genius!"

Alphys leers at the fish-woman before leering at the view she has on her monitor. Due to the far away placement of the camera, it can see up to the platform of level three. And there, dangling over the side, is a pale white arm that stands out over the red platform and gold LED lights scheme.

"The hell...?"

She switches to the level three cameras.

"Ha! I knew I saw something."

With the better view, they now see the human face-down just a few feet from the elevator.

"How the hell did she get up there?"

Alphys gets out her phone and sends a quick text. When there's no reply she presses a button and a moment later is sent a reply. A few messages are sent as Mettaton zooms on screen.

"What? Why's the tin can there now?"

Undyne is out of the loop as usual.

"Who else do you know can zip over there as fast?"

Mettaton pulls the human to the center of the path, away from a stupid falling to death, and checks over her seemingly lifeless body. Her eyes are open and empty as if someone replaced her peepers with billiards cue balls that glow. Marks on her arms look like bruising but weren't there before nor gained in her earlier fight. Then...Alphys gets a text.

"Hmmm..."

"What's up?"

"Vital signs are still going but her breathing has stopped."

She texts back to Mettaton.

"So...She's dead?"

"No. Not yet at least. According to Mettaton, her HP is full and not depleting. However, if she doesn't start breathing, her HP should drain and she will die."

"Then wha...?"

"Look at the TV, dear."

Undyne looks back at the screen to see Mettaton performing chest compressions in patterns.

"With her heart still pumping it means all other functions are still working. It's likely something happened in whatever event that caused her to get up there to give her trauma. The trauma probably made her brain fail to send the right signals to her lungs and thus, she's in respiratory arrest. So I've instructed Mettaton to force her body to restart her breathing manually with basic CPR."

They watch the robot press into her chest for a good couple of minutes before the human suddenly bolts up violently. Mettaton restrains the hysterical woman as the life returns to her eyes, sight restored settles her down some but she appears terribly shaken.

"Ask him if he can get her to tell him what happened."

"Already sent and awaiting reply."

Mettaton appears to speak with her but she either says very little or nothing at all. She merely holds her self in an attempt to cease her trembling and looks out at what bit of the CORE is still visible from that point.

"Huh...He says she isn't telling. At most, she said it's nothing and it just happens sometimes."

"Super vague and avoiding the subject? That kind of shit ain't normal."

Alphys agrees but it's not like they have the human in custody to interrogate for answers. She sends the text.

"The hell?"

Mettaton offers some concern and encouragement before blasting off, leaving the human alone.

"Why's he leaving her?!"

"He did what was needed. Now the show can continue as planned."

Undyne glares.

"That's twice now. You could've let her die."

"I still need more data. Something odd happened and I need to figure it out."

Undyne huffs softly.

"Fine. You know...You can only string someone along for so long before that string breaks, Alphys."

The lizard-woman chuckles.

"Worried about the human? That's cute."

"I wasn't talking about the human."

Undyne guzzles her remaining ramen and Alphys isn't sure how to respond.

"For your sake, the human better be worth all this effort."

She lifts her bowl.

"More."

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3 BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Static. Everything is static. Static is all I see and hear. I can't feel anything. Am I dead? Is this what death is? If it is...It's incredibly boring. At least Hell would have a wicked soundtrack to drone out to while being tortured. Suddenly, I feel something. And it hurts. Like something is bouncing on my chest and pauses a bit before doing it again for longer.

Please...Leave me alone...Let me be...I don't want to go back...Don't make me go back...Please...

"*gasps and coughs*"

My lungs burn in this reawakening but my sight is still static. Purgatory. Pain before Heaven. The sins must be suffered away. This must be what's happening. Hands. I feel hands and panic, stress levels at critical. I take a swing at where I think they are.

"D̕͡oņ͟'̕͝t ̨̀͝to͝͏uch̷́͝ ͘me͘͜!̴̵͝"

There's hesitation before more force is used and I'm pinned to what I assume is a floor. I thrash harshly.

"L̸̀e͢a̡͜v̴͟͢e ͘m̵e͞ ͝al҉̀o̷̴n̴̨e̶̢!̡͞ ̡͡Ḑ͞o͝n̶͝'̨̕t ̢͏̡I ͜s̸̛u͜͜f̵͝f̷͠͝er̛ ̧e͏͜n̢o̵u҉͢͢g̶͡͡ḩ?!͏"

"CALM...I...LYNSIE."

A voice? A normal voice?

"DON'T...ME...RELAX."

The struggling I was doing ends. And as I settle down the static that had blinded me subsides. My location is unknown. But I know the one holding me down.

"M-Metta?"

Seeing I'm normal, Mettaton helps me get back on my feet yet I'm unsettled by...things.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, DARLING? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Flashes of memory flicker in my head. Those...things...Followers of Gaster...The things they did...

I hold myself and fight the tears trying to come to my eyes. I don't say a thing.

"LYNSIE...HOW DID YOU GET UP HERE? WHY DID I FIND YOU NOT BREATHING?"

I rub my eyes.

"I need my phone. *shaky inhale* I gotta talk to my mom."

"YOU KNOW I DON'T HAVE IT. AND IF I DID, I'M STILL UNSURE YOU WOULDN'T CALL OUT TO YOUR FRIENDS."

He's not wrong. I wasn't going to call Toriel. I was going to give Sans nightmares with the shit done to me.

"NOW COME ON. YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG."

"...N-Nothing's wrong. This...This just happens sometimes."

He's not buying it. I'm doing a piss poor attempt to play off that I'm fine.

"DARLING, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE AND ABOUT TO CRY. JUST TALK TO ME. WHAT HAPPENED? YOU VANISHED FROM SIGHT AND ENDED UP HERE AT THE START OF LEVEL THREE COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS."

I don't say a word.

"DID SOMEONE USE MAGIC ON YOU? IS YOUR SOUL OKAY?"

I flinch at the mentioning of my soul and refuse any further interaction.

"LYNSIE...?"

I refuse to look at him. He sighs.

"IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, DUE TO TIME CRUNCHING, THE THIRD ACT WAS CANCELED. BETWEEN YOUR STALLING FROM HEIGHTS, ALL THESE RANDOM FIGHT ENCOUNTERS, AND EVENTS OF THE FIRST AND SECOND ACT...CHANGES IN THE PROGRAM HAVE BEEN MADE. HEH...ORIGINALLY, THE THIRD ACT WAS GOING TO HAVE YOU DEFUSE A SERIES OF BOMBS PLACED AROUND THE AREA WITHIN A TIME LIMIT. YET EVEN I THOUGHT THAT WAS UNFAIR. THAT AND THE SCRIPT FOR IT WAS JUST AWFUL. NO WAY AM I DISGRACING MYSELF WITH SUCH A POORLY DIRECTED SHOW."

I guess that is some good news. It's probably why he had those guards posted there to stall me.

"BUT...I DO HAVE SOME BAD NEWS."

This gets me to look at him.

"FROM HERE, IN THE NEXT ROOM YOU WILL FIND A SEEMINGLY CHARMING SPIDER NAMED MUFFET. SHE'S A CUNT."

Well, that escalated quickly.

"SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE SPIDERS IN THE UNDERGROUND AND RUNS A SUPPOSED BAKERY. IT'S A FRONT. SHE'S AN EXTORSHINISH. SHE'LL SAY AND DO ANYTHING IF IT MEANS SHE'LL GET GOLD. CLAIMS THE MONEY IS NEEDED TO SAVE THE SPIDERS IN THE RUINS OR SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT."

"It sounds like you don't like her very much."

"NO, NOT REALLY. I COULD CARE LESS WHAT SHE DOES. THE THING THAT PISSES ME OFF IS THAT SHE PREYS ON MY WORKERS, KILLS THE ONES THAT CAN'T PAY HER OUTRAGEOUS FEES, AND, WORST OF ALL, SHE REFUSED TO DEAL WITH ME!"

I tilt my head.

"I HAVE TRIED TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO GET HER TO SELL FOOD UNDER MY BRAND. BUT SHE SAYS MY NAME WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE HER LOSE GOLD. SERIOUSLY? THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH. I PRACTICALLY OWN HOTLAND AND SHE HAS THE NERVE TO UTTER SUCH SHIT!"

His screen flashes for a moment before he calms down.

"YET DESPITE THAT...KNOWING YOU AND HOW YOU HANDLE DIFFICULT MONSTERS, I'M CONFIDENT YOU CAN GET BY HER WITH LITTLE ISSUE."

"...You have that much faith in me?"

He spins on his wheel.

"WOULD YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IF I SAY I DO?"

My dower expression answers him for me.

"WELL, IT WAS WORTH A TRY."

His wheel retracts to fly.

"WE WILL MEET AGAIN FOR THE FOURTH ACT...PROVIDED YOU SURVIVE THE SPIDERS. YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF SPIDERS, ARE YOU?"

"I was when I was a kid. I got over it."

"GOOD. YOU SHOULD BE FINE THEN."

He comes over and, to my surprise, gives me a small embrace.

"I BELIEVE IN YOU, LYNSIE."

My throat tightens, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. He takes off and I wait for when he's out of sight to breakdown.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" screen cuts away. The human has been located. She appears to be on a different level and is a wreck. Down on her hands and knees, sobbing intangible pleas. Something has happened and it wasn't good.

Toriel gasps softly.

"tori? what's wrong?"

She covers her mouth and points. Sans sees it now. Papyrus even spies it before Grillby. The hands. The harsh imprints darkening the snow colored skin.

"Those marks...They would sometimes appear in her sleep. Why are they there now?"

Grillby shoots a look at Sans and he decides to get his buddy off his back.

"she had those marks while with us too. but if you look closely, these marks are different. there's no hole in the palm. plus...there are two sets."

"HMMM...AN AMBUSH PERHAPS? BUT WHAT KIND OF MAGIC CAN ALLOW FOR SUCH A SNEAK ATTACK AND THEN VANISH ELSEWHERE?"

Grillby continues to leer at Sans.

"what?"

"Sounds like teleporting to me. Anyone you know can do that?"

Sans glares.

"no. only i can teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"yeah. i'm sure. knock it off."

Papyrus cocks his brow. This might require his attention if things escalate.

"I'll knock it off when you come clean."

"i ain't hiding shit."

"Bullshit. You've been holding back so much that even your brother doesn't know just how much you do. If you don't know, then you don't know, but if one thing we've figured about you tonight...It's that you hide what you know all the damn time. So you've got to give us something better if you want us to believe you."

Sans balls his fist.

"us? or you? don't start connecting dots to points that don't exist because you want answers that no one can give to make yourself feel better."

"Then tell me who it was that hurt her before. Maybe they know who did it this time."

That line. That line got heads to turn.

"Sans? You know who has been harming my child?"

It's times like these Sans wished he was able to RESET.

"no, i don't."

"That's not what you told me."

"i only said what i did to get you off my back. ya were all upset about the marks and..."

"Of course I was upset about the marks! What guy wouldn't?!"

Papyrus snarkily lifts a finger, admitting his lack of concern but not wanting to get involved in this.

"maybe instead of pointing fingers, you should question why she didn't tell ya about'em herself. because if she doesn't even tell her mom about shit like this, what makes ya think she tells me?"

Grillby had to pause at that.

"Is it that one of them hurt you?"

"What?"

"You're ignoring them, but that doesn't make them invisible to anyone else. Did they do this? Papyrus I can believe, but I have doubts on Sans. But if they did this to you..."

"They didn't. This is a whole different issue."

"Don't defend your abuser."

"I'm not defending shit. It's my problem, I can deal with it. Don't make this a big deal."

"It is a big deal!"

"*wince* You're hurting me."

"..."

"Like I said...That's a different issue that I will deal with. Not you. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes."

Maybe Sans had a point. Knowing how others would react keeps one from talking about such things, especially when it's not a reaction that is easily dealt with. Toriel and Grillby have proven to overreact when it comes to the human. She probably thought it best to keep such pain to herself to avoid added damage. But still...Something didn't sit right with Grillby. Sans knew something. What it was he knew not.

"IF YOU'RE DONE WITH YOUR POINTLESS BICKERING, THE HUMAN IS ON THE MOVE NOW."

Attention once more fell back to the television.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3]

My body aches. The crying did little to ease me. Sure I vented, that's always good. But I don't feel any better for doing so. My arms stings. My soul throbs in agony. My every nerve demands relief that will never seem to come. I look at the bruises. I can still feel their hold. I don't know how long it happened for or how long after till I was found, yet I can still feel their filthy hands. It's too much. Make it stop!

I take my gloves off and dig my nails across the full stretch of my arms. I don't care about bleeding. I just want to stop feeling their hands. The strange energy begins to crackle around me as it did once before.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

It...It finally went away. That's good. Now if only the memory could be removed. Can't claw my brain unfortunately. Oh well. Perhaps I'll find something to bash my head against. Won't that be fun?

I take my leave. Flesh under my now gloved nails and blood trickling down my arms, making a trail behind me.

A few short steps have me in a more inhabited spot. The monsters here give me strange looks. Maybe it's because of the self-mutilation. Or maybe it was spine chilling wailing. Or both. Or random other shit. Either way, I keep to myself and press onward.

"Oh, yoohoo, human~..."

Ah, fuck my life with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole!

"You look like you can use some healing items. Come, I don't bite...well...maybe ONE little nibble~."

...Why do I attract the kinky weirdos?!

This is the spider-lady Mettaton was talking about. She has periwinkle or lavender skin, five eyes, six arms, and two legs. She wears red rompers with yellow buttons in the front, a red ribbon across her chest, as well as large wild twin pigtails in her black hair tied by red bows. She is also holding two teacups with her top pair of hands and two teapots with her middle pair, her bottom pair of hands hide under her little table.

"Welcome to our parlor, dearie~. Interested in some spider pastries? All proceeds go to real spiders~. Check out the webs to make a purchase~."

I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Ms. Spider..."

"No need for formalities, dearie~. Call me Muffet."

"Muffet...I'm gonna be nice yet blunt. So I apologize in advance if I tick you off at any point because that's not my intent. *shaky inhale* I have been battered, beaten, abducted, blasted, and brought near death more than usual today. And normally, I'd roll with it and let you do this 'thing' it is you're gonna do...But not now."

She opens her mouth to speak and I slam my hands on the tabletop.

"I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me. So, please...Not now."

I can feel that energy get stronger. The odd display bugs her yet she continues.

"My, how dreadful. That's a terrible tale you tell, human. And such a silly one to explain your disappearing act."

My eye twitches. Does she...Does she think I made that up?

"That Mettaton is certainly putting more effort into his effects for this show. It's about time too. That metal moron can't act to save his batteries."

I want to hit her.

"Anyway...Can I interest you in some of my 100% all-natural treats? Food made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders!"

...Wait a second?

"Of spiders? So...You're killing your own kind...for pastries?"

She simply smiles innocently.

"...Are they at least dead or dying ones?"

Her giggle is not reassuring.

"Go on, dearie~. Have a nice donut and wash it down with some cider. You'll heal faster than ever before. And all for the low low price of 9999G...each."

My nerves are shot. Were they always called donuts and not doughnuts? What the fuck?!

"Lady, that is the biggest crock of shit I have ever had the misfortune to step in."

All of her eyes glare at me.

"Beg your pardon?"

"This same 'bake sale' is being done by the spiders in the Ruins. Do you wanna know what the prices are there? Donuts are 7G and Ciders are 18G. Where the hell do you get off charging that much for food that works on cannibalism?"

I point at her in judgment.

"You're sick, lady! This is fucked up."

She hisses at me.

"Seems humans are awfully stingy with money. Don't know a good deal when it's in their face."

I look at her cockeyed.

"Stingy with money? Bitch, did you not hear the words coming out of my mouth?!"

She laughs in my face.

"Ahuhuhuhu...You think your taste is too refined for our pastries, don't you, deary?"

"...Sure. Whatever. You're not listening anyway."

"Ahuhuhu...I disagree with that notion. I think your taste...Is exactly what this next batch needs!"

She stares at me creepily and licks her lips.

"Oh hell nah!"

I flip the table on her and run. She's not happy.

"Get back here!"

"Fuck you!"

I look back to see if she's following and crash into a guy.

"Hey, watch where you're going."

"Sorry. I was just..."

My blood runs cold seeing the monster I've bumped. This guy...This guy is a dead ringer for the creepy gray dude with the face in his hand. The only difference being he's in color.

"*scoff* Weirdo."

He walks to where Muffet is but I can't move. My heart begins pounding. Flashes of memory play before my eyes. I can't breathe fast enough. Gaster, for all the shit he does, isn't as bad as the Followers.

MAKE IT STOP! M̴A͝KÉ IT͜ S͢T͡O͜P!!͘ MA̡̛͜K̶͢E͝ ̢I̡͝T̡҉̧ ́͠S̷͡T͝OP̵!!̛͏! M̢̡A̸̧̛͞͝K̢̨҉É̶̡̢͏ ͜͝͡I̸̧̨̕T̴ ̶̕͞S͜͢T̵͡Ǫ͝҉҉҉P̨̛͞!̶!̕͘͟!̷̨͟͝͡!̕͟

[WARNING]

[SOUL destabilization detected]

[HEARTBREAK immanent]

W͏ai̕t̸.̀.̢.̸Wha̧t doe̴s̛ t̨ha͝t ̨meàn̶?͡

[HEARTBREAK is the condition in which the SOUL will damage itself due to instability or loss of HOPE]

[There are three levels of the HEARTBREAK condition]

[Level ONE: the SOUL forms a crack, it starts small which can be healed easily]

[Level TWO: the crack on the SOUL spreads, damage taken is increased and needs intensive care to be repaired]

[Level THREE: the SOUL shatters and death accrues]

...Serious?

[Current status: PENDING HEARTBREAK]

[PENDING HEARTBREAK: the SOUL weakens and its color dulls]

[Most MONSTERS in the UNDERGROUND have this state due to a loss of HOPE which is the main trait in MONSTER SOULS]

So...I can die from my soul hurting itself because of my inability to cope with the shit that happened?

[Correct]

...Fuck. Well...I should make a last will. Because I'm gonna die.

*STATIC* DARLING? ARE YOU OKAY? YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING.

Mettaton's voice in my ear causes the shackles of trauma to release me...for now.

I slap myself. Gotta focus. Do this and get to go home. Concentrate. Don't fuck up! The energy around me slowly dissipates.

"Human!"

Looking back I see Muffet coming at me.

"Someone's stealing from the register!"

Her concern for money outweighs her need to kill me and I use this to escape. Much to my annoyance, this part of the path ends with more of those damn vents and they of course split off into three ways, one being a big as hell closed door.

"...I fucking hate Hotland."

I sigh. Taking in the vent platforms and noting that the gap between them is the smallest size ever. No need to run, jump, or use them. I merely walk onto the next platform and can do so for all of them. I choose to take the right side first. Why not? Not like it makes a difference. It leads me to a conveyor belt that has three blue lasers. I ride it to the end without harm. I guess Metta's budget for puzzles is running low if this is what I have to deal with. This leads me to a familiar room with, what a surprise, the same shooting puzzle from the last time I had to unlock a big fucking door.

"Now this is just lazy."

I look for the instructions.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

Well...Maybe that's something.

This puzzle has the blocks in a four by five state. Eleven blocks are solid and four can be moved around. The four moving blocks move all at once like they're connected. The open spaces are pretty fair if I have to give it some credit. I move to the right, up, right, down twice, right twice, down, left, down, and finally end it by firing through the clear path.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"Don't tell me it's the same on the other side."

I head out and take the other conveyor belt back to the vents, passing a random cactus in the process. I swear if this shit keeps up I'm going to lose my mind. No! No...I need to calm down and relax. I don't need the stress. My soul is in rough shape as is. Now it's at risk of damage without my conscious input. I wish I had my music. That would really help. Maybe a little Green Day or Linkin Park. Oh! My Chemical Romance!

*BONK*

It would seem I didn't pay attention and walked into the puzzle room, kicking the machine by accident.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

"God dingle damn it bull honkery."

I hate copy & paste design. The board is larger, five by five. Ten solid blocks and six movable ones, everything else is empty space. Right, up, right, down twice, right, right/up, up/right, up twice, right, up, and fire.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"...I'm so sick of this crap it ain't even funny."

I shove my hands in my pockets and leave...only to see two diamond-headed monsters just hanging out, one light-purple and the other a super light-green. Did I really walk by them?

"I've been thinking about getting a sick skateboard."

"Really? That's cool I guess. ...So...What's your fave Mettaton Moment(TM)?"

"My fave Mettaton Moment(TM)? Right when everything looks the baddest, he poses dramatically. Like when he's on a cooking show and the eggs don't turn out right. But! Then he says...Even if you suck at cooking, you can always buy an MTT-brand Glamburger! Then he eats one! Everyone loves it!"

"...How does he eat it without a mouth?"

"Uhhh...well...Watch the show!"

"Well, my fave Mettaton Moment(TM) is when he beats up the heel-turning villains! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a quiz show. Oh! And I like when he tries on all kinds of different fashionable outfits! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a newscast."

I wonder if I can get a chuckle out of these two.

"Sounds like you two really know your stuff about Mettaton."

They turn to look at me, they look like teenagers based on their clothes.

"Totally."

"No one's a bigger fan than us."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! He's currently broadcasting live. And with a Human! We can finally get to the surface!"

"On the surface, we'll be able to watch all kinds of TV...But, I bet none of those shows are as good as Mettaton's!"

"You don't say. Then...Could you describe this human? I don't want to miss seeing it."

The green one goes for his phone.

"Let me see if it's back on and we'll show you. Some crazy stuff happened and the feed cut off a bit ago."

I smile and wait for it. I can't read their faces, but it's very clear when the green one goes to his buddy and shows him the screen. Looks are shot at me. I merely give a friendly wave.

"Dude..."

"We're on TV!"

At least someone's happy about it.

"Wait...Then that means..."

"You're the human?"

I shrug.

"What...What happened to you?"

"You're like all messed up and junk."

I shrug again.

"You know...Messed up crud. Being human ain't all that and or fun. But don't worry about it. Just enjoy the show. Metta's doing his best to make it epic as hell."

I walk past them.

"Oh! Before I go...Don't copy any of the stuff aired at home. You'd probably get in trouble if you blast people for getting trivia wrong or use chainsaws while cooking."

I give a thumbs-up as I go. Vaguely hoping to look badass. With the door open it shouldn't be long till all this nonsense is over and I can go home. I wonder though...Can Flowey get up here? The floor is artificial, so I don't know if he can traverse it. I hope he's okay. Poor fella's probably losing his mind wondering where I went. Then again, he's a clever cookie and knows his way around the Underground better than anyone.

[The smell of cobwebs fills the air...]

Huh?

*sniff*

"What smells like freshly baked tarantulas?"

...Oh shit.

The room past the door is littered with webbing and spiders are dangling from the ceiling.

"...Fuck my life."

Smelling a trap I attempt to get through this room as fast as I can. But the webbing on the floor accumulates on my shoes and eventually, I'm unable to take a step. Struggling only made things worse.

"Ahuhuhuhu..."

Damn it! Damn it all to hell!!

"Did you hear what they just said? They said a human in tacky clothes will come through."

"Well, fuck you too."

"I heard that they hate spiders."

"What?!"

"I heard that they love to stomp on them."

"That is a bald-faced lie!"

"I heard that they like to tear their legs off."

"Slander! The levels of bullshit in here are off the charts!"

"I heard..."

Muffet comes down like a Charlotte's Web reject onto a large web. Smaller spiders dangle beside her and block the path ahead as well as behind me.

"...that they're incredibly stingy with their money. Ahuhuhuhu."

My fucks are all gone.

"You're mom was a hoe and ate your dad."

Her face blanks before burning with rage.

"You're fucking dead meat!"

[SPIDER DANCE begins to play in the background.]

My dull yellow soul comes out.

[Muffet traps you!]

"Oh, like this is fair. I can't move and you bring out a freaking gang. I mean, what are the damn rule anymore?!"

"Oh don't look so blue, my deary~."

She spins silk to entangle my soul then bites the end of a strand, her magic venom flows down the strand and coats the heart. Forcibly changing the trait and color.

"...I think purple is a better look on you! Ahuhuhu~."

This feels so wrong.

"Why is everyone messing with my soul today?!"

Her spider underlings draw webbing in strings in horizontal lines. These lines are also infused with the purple magic and attract my soul.

[You're trapped in a strange purple web!]

"Here's the deal, dearie~...A spider will appear to the right between each turn, holding a sign that presents the density and type of attack that will come after your turn. Now while you can't move, your pretty little soul can, and you'll have to move it along or switch between the three strings to avoid attacks. There will only be three strings. No more, no less. How's that for fair~?"

I mull it over.

"...Not bad actually. Who goes first?"

"You. I want to see what you can do."

She's a smart one, I'll give her that. Let's see my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That button is giving me weird vibes the more I see it.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[STRUGGLE]

[PAY 10G]

Pay? Fuck that! I earned this gold. Mine!

[CHECK selected.]

[MUFFET – HP: 1250 ATK: 38.8 DEF: 18.8 – If she invites you to her parlor, excuse yourself.]

And she's better in the stat department than the butterdragon.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. The hell does that mean?

"Why so pale? You should be proud~."

"With the amount of blood I've lost today it would make me look like a corpse. But be proud of what?"

"Why...Proud that you're going to make a delicious cake~! Ahuhuhu~!"

Spiders begin crawling across the threads. It's like a weird form of Frogger minus hopping to safety. It's a simple move and I come out of it fine.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Sweet, my HP is full. I love this nasty apron!

[All the spiders clap along to the music.]

It is a catchy tune, no lie. But I need to get out of this. It's not like all of me is unable to move.

[ACT selected.]

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet covers her mouth and giggles at you.]

...Bitch.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. Okay, I know what that means now.

"Look at you. Trying to break free. It's so cute~."

"Would it help if I asked nicely? Please let me go?"

"Let you go? Don't be silly~. Your SOUL is going to make every spider very happy~~!"

Spiders cross the lines and it oddly seems like there was less this time. Making it easier.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet does a synchronized dance with the other spiders.]

"You know...Someone warned us about you...Offered us a LOT of money for your SOUL."

This gets my attention.

"What?"

"Oh yes~. They had such a sweet smile~ and...Ahuhuhu~. It's strange, but I swore I saw them in the shadows...Changing shape...?"

The hell? Wait...She can't mean one of the Followers...Can she? Stop it! Don't think about them! Don't!

"Oh well. It's not like it matters anyway. Your move, dearie~."

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet laughs and claps her hands.]

"Still trying, huh? Still thing. Don't you know spider silk is five times stronger than steel?"

I can not get a break today.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of two spiders. What?

Double the spiders come on the strings at the same time. It's somehow a new move yet works too similar to the normal attack to be tricky. I dodge it fairly well.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet pours herself a cup of spiders.]

...I didn't need to see that. No one needs to see a large spider drink smaller spiders like they were tea.

"*sip* With the money from you SOUL, the spider clans can finally be reunited~."

I tilt my head.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? Spiders have been trapped in the RUINS for generations!"

Obvious thing is obvious.

"Can't they, you know, squeeze out through the door?"

"*scoff* Even if they go under the door, Snowdin's fatal cold is impassable alone."

It is pretty cold there. Then they'd have to travel through two zones to get here. Damn, that sucks.

"But with the money from your SOUL, we'll be able to rent them a heated limo~. And with all of the leftovers...? We could have a nice vacation~! Or even build a spider baseball field~!"

What little sympathy I was gaining dies at that.

"Now you're just spending to show off."

"But enough of that...It's time for dinner, isn't it? Ahuhuhu~."

*Growls*

I look around and see nothing. I don't like this.

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Nothing happened.]

"Don't struggle too much. You'll make yourself all sweaty. No one wants a sweaty donut."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider and a donut?

The spiders come crawling faster than before even if their numbers aren't as much, then they are followed by random donuts being thrown by the spiders blocking the pathways. This almost had me. Came close, but no cigar.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm proud of my dodging skills. I've come a long way.

[Muffet tidies up the web around you.]

If you don't like crumbs, don't throw food. It's very simple.

*Growls*

There's that sound again. I really don't like it. Muffet does though.

"You look concerned."

"Are you saying you don't hear the growling?"

She giggles.

"Oh, how rude of me! I almost forgot to introduce you to my pet~."

I'm puzzled. What kind of pet does a spider have?

"Oh, my pet~...Looks like it's time for dessert~."

I can hear rapid heavy skittering. Not good! Not good!

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet is so amused by your antics that she gives you a discount!]

"Tell you what...If you survive my pet, I just might consider sparing you."

"R-Really? That might actually be the f...Holy fucking shit!!"

*Roar*

An abomination appears. A hideous cupcake spider thing emerges from the webs.

"What the fuck is that thing?!"

"This is my pet. Have fun, you two~."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a cupcake. I don't like this at all!

So many spiders speed by in an unchanging pattern of fear and with good reason. The freaky food beast climbs down and begins eating the strings, pulling my soul towards its hungry maw. This causes spiders that were already on their way to fall prey to this creature as I desperately do my best to not get hit or be dragged to what I assume is instant death. But I'm too panicked to be perfect in my dodging.

[HP ████ 4/40]

Six...I took six hits. I'm gonna die.

[Your soul can't take much more of this.]

No? Really?! Like I couldn't fucking tell!

"You're still alive? Ahuhuhu~...That's impressive~."

She calls her pet to her side.

"Got way too worked up...*gag* I think...*gag* I think I'm gonna puke. *hic*"

"...Please don't. Do you know how hard vomit is to clean out of webbing?"

I take a moment to settle down.

"*sigh* Don't lie...Spiders eat their webbing when it gets messed up."

She cringes.

"Yeah...I don't know everything about spiders. But I do know random gross stuff like that."

I shake off the impending dizziness.

"So...Are you going to spare me?"

She thinks for a moment.

"I will..."

Maybe there is a god?

"For the small fee of 500G~."

Nope. God's dead.

"Are you kidding me?! I'm fucking broke! "

I ain't telling her I have money.

"Then I guess we're going to be spending more quality time together, dearie~ I do hope you're feeling comfortable trapped in that web. Ahuhuhuhu~! Because I don't mind keeping you here for as long as it takes~!"

Damn it. I don't have time for this crap. Wait a second...Time? Heh...This gives me an idea.

"Say, Muffet...Who's watching your bake sale stand while you're here?"

She folds her upper arms.

"A loyal family member. Why do you ask?"

I chuckle softly.

"Oh, no reason. Just checking."

Her eyes cock.

"Checking?"

"Well, we've been here a long time. At least, you have because you got here before me. And we're far from your stand too. It would be a real shame if someone took your 'donations' while this fight was happening."

She sneers.

"Dearie, you're not going to fool me again with that trick. No one would dare steal from me."

I smirk.

"That's the thing...It's not YOU they'd stealing from now is it? It's some other weaker spider."

Her expression gains some worry.

"Even if that spider is loyal, can you honestly say it can defend the money if, let's say, a group stormed the table?"

Concern crosses her face and her pet nudges her as it picks up the vibes.

"Then...Then I'll kill you quickly and return before some fool even tries!"

I shake my head at her.

"Yeah, that would be a thing you could do. But...You can't."

"Wha...What do you mean I can't? You have four HP left! One more hit and your SOUL is mine!"

I put my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels.

"True. So very true. Yet...It's not your turn."

Her eyes widen, finally picking up on my little plan.

"Here's the thing...I've been in enough fights to understand how they work. It all functions on a turn-based system. It's a very fair means of doing combat. No one can attack at random, only when it's their turn. Heh...But the kicker is, and I think you know where I'm going with this...There's no time limit on turns. So if I want to...as long as I don't do anything...my turn will never end. And we'll be stuck here, locked like this...forever!"

Now it's her turn to feel panic.

"You're bluffing."

I grin.

"How much are you willing to bet on that? Because I wager your clan won't take losing all their hard-earned gold due to your negligence very well. They may think a new leader is needed if that happens."

I yawn and stretch to get cozy, showing I'm more than willing to stay put. She twitches with nervousness.

"So tell us, Muffet...What's it gonna be?"

Based on my understanding of Muffet, she's a greedy, stingy, intimidating, malicious, and somehow hypocritical monster, although having a courteous and sweet way of speaking. She won't stay. The odds don't favor her.

Her pet looks at her, the spiders turn to her, the pressure is almost visible as it smothers her. She balls her six fists and stomps her foot in a fit.

"Fine! I'll SPARE you!"

"For free?"

She grinds her teeth.

"Yes, for free! Just quit stalling and confirm it!"

[Muffet is sparing you and refuses your money.]

I can be super evil when I have the chance.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 0 gold.]

The webbing around my soul dissolves. As does the stuff around my feet. My soul turns a dull orange and returns to my body.

"There, you're free. Now get lost!"

"I'm glad we could have such a fun time together, dear."

She snarls and hops onto her pet.

"Next time, you won't get away so easily."

"And maybe next time you'll be paying me for my amazing entertainment skills."

I think channeled Mettaton for a moment. She bites back some harsh unladylike remarks and rides off. I look at the spiders that block my way out.

"Move...please."

They're hesitant but do so.

"Thank you."

I take a few steps but stop near them, pulling out a small handful of gold.

"I don't know if what she said was true, but...here."

I put the gold on the ground and take my leave, pulling a bottle of cider from my inventory to heal.

"Consider it an addition to the amount I've already paid in the Ruins."

The spiders are confused but I hear them take the gold. I can be evil, yes. But it's not true to my nature. I drink the whole bottle as I enter a new, hopefully lacking in spiders, area.

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Not bad. I'll fully heal up soon. This new area appears to have the same material as the Ruins. I'm getting homesick. I miss Toriel. I miss Flowey. I miss my bed. I want to go home.

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.