#Okay but the part when they have prison uniforms on concerned me

[bisexual-magneto]

Now, just as a belated heads-up, this is not a conversation about the prison system. Just saying. If you add a "but also the prison system is-" or "are you saying that the prison system is-" - not the point here. This is a conversation about lines of argumentation)

If you ever want a really succinct illustration of the way terfs frame their transmisogny as feminism: Consider all the time terfs spend on talking about trans women in women's prisons.

They bring it up a lot. 'How trans women violate a formerly (cis) female space.' That's how they present it. That's literally what you read on their protest signs - "Keep Men Out Of Women's Prisons!"

In fact, if you google this, you will find many variations of this sentence - but the keyword "keep" is universal.

Keep.

...

Keep. - - - not 'get'. Keep.

And that there shows you how this framing works.

Because men are already fucking there. Have been, always. They're the fucking guards. No word about that though.

Because's that's not what they're protesting against. In fact - does anyone genuinely believe that any serious bid advocating for abolishing male guards from women's prisons would get nearly the same attention and genuine support in terf circles as the campaign against trans women in women's prisons does? Well, there is an easy answer to this: Either the reason we don't see those takes is because terfs straight up don't care about the issue enough for those takes to exist or we don't see those takes because they're not being paid enough attention by their community to be widely distributed - let alone draw as much attention as 'trans women out of women's prisons is.

In the UK, in some prisons it's a 1:1 ratio of male to female guards (see Freedom of Information Act, Reference No 86754). So you're really gonna tell me that all that rallying against a tiny handful of trans women in women's prisons is sincere, genuine concern about keeping "men out of women's spaces" - when there is no word, no peep, no nothing about the fact that on the other side of these bars, the people in uniforms, the people writing reports about behaviour and dealing out punishments and controlling contact to the outside world - are straight-up cis men? Cis men in uniforms who chose a job that gave them state-backed control over socially marginalised women?

In my home country (Germany), there are over 50% male guards in women's prisons. In some places women's prisons are so empty, that there are several times more guards than prisoners in those facilities, which should tell you about the chances of connecting against the guards or the gender-related culture in there. There was a case in Chemnitz of a male guard impregnating a female prisoner a while ago that made the press - which is an indication of larger-scale sexual abuses going on. Pregnancy is pretty much the only outcome of sexual violence against a prisoner that a guard wouldn't be able to cover-up with the power dynamic as it is (and remember, guards, unlike prisoners, can easily smuggle contraceptives into prison) - so the fact that the public learnt about this or that it even made it past the room it happened in, probably constitutes merely a tiny tip of the iceberg.

But that's not on their protest signs.

That's not what they talk about in their posts. That's not where they direct their vitriol.

And it also illustrates how they echo established right-wing narratives. Of course the right doesn't care about about men being guards in women's prisons. Or about men having power over women. That's what they deem natural and ideal. To them, the prisoners are criminals and whatever suffering can be inflicted on them is appropriate, whether it is part of the intended sentence or not. They also don't care about trans women in women's prisons (because they don't care about cis women prisoners either - why would they care about who they're housed with?).

No, they want trans women in men's prisons for the same reason they're okay with cis male guards in women's prisons: Because to them, sexual violence is a natural punishment for misbehaving women - because men are the 'protectors' on top of the society, and by offending against that society, the umbrella of benevolent male protection is removed. For them, cis women violated that natural order by doing whatever got them into prison - so now they're fair game. Trans women were never women in there eyes to begin with - they're 'men' attempting to undermine their distinct separation and hierarchy of the sexes, as they perceive them, by having the gall to imply that a man could 'become' a woman - not to mention: By requesting transfers to women's prisons, trans women (in the right-wing narratives) are trying to escape the extra-judicial abuses that (see above) they consider the natural punishment for violating what they consider the natural order of the sexes (see some similarities here?). From a fascist perspective, bigotry is a means of controlling the behaviour of the members of society and purifying it of undesired elements - and both the abuses that a trans woman would suffer in a man's prison as well as the abuses a cis woman would experience at the hands of a cis male guard are perfectly acceptable to them.

Spaces separating women from the male public have always been held up as a privilege that women could earn/maintain through desirable behaviour such as submissiveness, chastity, prettiness, good manners etc - at the hefty price of giving themselves and every aspect of their lives into hands of a much small number of men, such as her husband or her father.

Meanwhile, undesirable behaviour is punished by refusing women that 'privilege' of male 'protection' - and tossing them out to deal with the male-dominated public while still being restrained in the rightless state of a woman - whether that meant being sent to a psychiatric institution at the mercy of uncaring doctors, going out to work in a factory with no education received beforehand, a workhouse, whether that meant prostitution in a society that has absolutely no sympathy for that profession, or whether that meant a divorced women being forced to find lodging for herself (remember, divorced women were also subject of discrimination for a long time and often this came paired with poverty.)

Now, mind you, this is rationalised through the narrative that women are not suffering a social disadvantage but that these differences are founded in biological reality. The idea is: "If you're no longer being good and obedient for the men who so kindly protect you, you defective, weak little creature - then go out on the street and deal with the real world! If you want to act like a man - see how ya like dealing with that, you dumb bitch!!" (yeah, there it is, ye olde: "I love you, I love you, I love you - - - - Well, I never liked you anyway and you're ugly!")

This is something you will commonly find echoed in anti-feminist narratives: The idea that instead of the benevolent husband she's serving as a dutiful housewife, a woman will now have to "serve" an employer, who is not actually interested in her as a person but just as a worker. The idea of a single-mother being punished for failing to keep the father by begging for child support and going to work. The idea that a woman going into a specific physical place/entering a specific line of work/dressing a certain way/going out in specific times of the day or night is herself at fault for falling victim to any attacks against her - because she should have known to state at home in the domestic state or be chaperoned by a man. While any man attacking her, abusing her, harassing her, a) couldn't help it because skirt short and b) is basically just enforcing a 'natural law'.

Or: Just take a long hard look at the famous little sentence "she's for the streets". There's that entire sentiment in four brief words.

For the right, the absolute authority of random prison guards over their prisoners is highly respectable in their hierarchical, fascist world view. And male guards are just a punishment that disobedient women deserve in that world view. Also, the narrative that we're living in a male-led, functioning-at-it's-best-only-through-absolute-authority society that is being attacked and undermined by liberal whackos is also and important right-wing talking point (because there always needs to be a threat!) - and the prison system works oh so wonderfully as a setting for that fight, doesn't it?

That's the right-wing side of things.

Now let's look back at the terf side of things.

Now, a (sincere) radical feminist perspective obviously shouldn't allow for male guards in women's prisons, simple as that. If terfs genuinely cared, that would be their battle cry in all prison context. That should be one of their first demands, if their logic was consistent.

But that's not how framing works. Much like the right has their framing of what is happening, so do terfs. And from that framing, we can deduce backwards what the intended goal is: What reason is there to gloss over the presence of male guards in prisons, if one is so genuinely concerned about male presence in women's prisons? What purpose is there to the 'keep men out' narrative, when very clearly, men have always been 'in'?

- - - trans women.

Yeah, anti-climactic, I know. But that's how you crack open the framing and see clearly what is behind 'Keep Men Out Of Women's Prisons' - that's who they have a problem with. If they started addressing the much bigger social issue of 'male prison guards in women's prisons' - a subject that they would get barely any support anywhere right of the centre from (unlike the support they get when they tackle the popular 'Trans Agenda!!!!) - they'd have to tackle big state institutions. They'd have to start a giant campaign. They'd have to get people interested in a subject that few people have any empathy towards - convicted felons. It would be unpopular. It would be a lot of work. And it would not be centred around talking about evil trans women. So they're not interested in that. But that's how it works: A protective layer of 'feminism' around what is really 'we hate trans women'

[princessamericachavez]

OKAY SO STRANGER THINGS S4 VOL.2 PREDICTIONS

going by the trailer material not used so far

spoilers under the cut

Okay so first of all, it looks like Nancy at the very least survives this current Vecna attack because she, Steve and Robin will be going full Rambo on the Upside Down. 

The how she survives is a mystery still, though my theories rest firmly on Steve and/or Eddie singing her back to the land of the living... they’ve stablished so much Steve and Nancy’s connection —not to mention many flashbacks to their time in s1 that we hadn’t seen in ages... I saw someone mention it might be with Africa by Toto and I think that’s very likely because we actually saw a flashback to Steve and Nancy studying with the flashcards she made. And the song was later playing in the background as they made out. Soooo my guess is the intention of those flashbacks was to bring that memory back to the forefront for us so we could connect the dots when that song comes up. 

Either way, Nancy makes it. 

Steve does too, btw, which I think we should remark on since I’ve seen so many people worrying over him and the monster bites. Not to say he’s entirely out of danger yet (knock on wood) but at the very least I’ll say that in these shots he does not look like someone dying from interdimensional rabies. 

Other than them going full rambo, we don’t know much about what they are doing here though all signs point out towards them going on a Vecna-hunting mission. Which... worries me, because they are three non-powered teenagers. 

Oh, we also see Nancy and Steve desperately trying to save Robin from getting strangled by Vecna’s vines here... (note the berret)

When I fest saw the rambo walk shot I was worried about Eddie but it looks like he’s otherwise preoccupied either rocking the shit out of the upside down and/or fighting monsters with Dustin

The true question here is what the hell is Dustin wearing and why. 

It looks like a camuflaje thing, I suppose, though he also looks like he’s lowkey cosplaying. He’s using a shield for sure. Though I must admit that what I’m most curious about is the dogtags. 

What’s up with that??

Him wearing them over the hoodie seems like a very deliberate choice in order to draw attention to them. 

Whatever is going on with those two, I’m guessing it goes well by his celebratory yell, and Eddie is still standing behind him so he probably makes it out of this fight at the very least. 

Eddie still has other issues of course, what with being accused of murder and all that, but my guess is that he might get a pass when the Upside Down actually bleads into Hawkins and becomes semi-common knowledge. What do I mean? Well, everyone was asking about Mike’s mom being in the character posters... looks like she’s about to be in on the whole thing. 

How or why I honestly have no idea. But this should be interesting. I’d love to see Joyce fill her in on what they’ve children have been up to for years...

And then there’s Max and Lucas who ngl I’m kinda worried about. We have: 

and this which I’m extremely concerned about 

so it looks like these two + Erica go back into the house for some reason...

Why, I have no idea tbh but if Dustin isn’t with them, maybe this is during the rambo bits. 

And then we have El, who will get out of her prison because we can see her standing in front of an explosion and with the shaved her but civilian clothes fighting someone

and then there’s Hopper who we see staring at some more trapped upside down monsters and later clearly out of the prison uniform and quite battered

and last but not least

the lack of California crew in the vol. 2 trialer is super suspicious to me... so my guess is they will play a bigger part and the Duffers were actively trying to avoid spoiling us. 

So yeah, those are my predictions so far. Would love to know what other people think!

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.5

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

Summary: someone please give Nicole a break for the love of Miranda. And there be smut y'all

---

Seeing Cassandra's softer side made something flutter within Nicole's chest. The brunette was a sadist through and through. Witness to that fact was the array of torture devices that littered the dungeons. Not to mention the prisoners she frequently killed, only to haul them on the autopsy tables in her study to be examined, chopped and sectioned by the both of them.

But there was an uncharacteristic sort of gentleness in the way their lips slid against each other, sharp teeth occasionally biting down on Nicole's lower lip but never enough to draw blood. In the way Cassandra would drag sharp nails against flushed skin, but not go beyond the pleasurable amount of pain. Even the glint in golden eyes when Nicole went over some old notes of hers on more tricky anatomy concepts. Having an exclusive look at this side of Cassandra felt beyond intimate and the thought almost made her miss when the brunette spoke from where she was leaning over a notebook.

"Okay let's just wrap this up, I have plans."

Nicole hummed, dropping the liver she was holding in a freezer bag. Most body parts were already bagged and ready to be picked up by Cynthia and her undercooks, they were just putting into practice some things the brunette was curious about. She dropped the now blood soaked leather gloves in the sink and went to sit by Cassandra, who was scribbling some final notes.

"In that case I'll go enjoy a cup of tea," she sighed. "Tea that I had to skip because someone was eager to start on this early."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by her usual smirk. "I meant plans with you."

Oh? That was new. The brunette laughed at Nicole's wide eyed expression and snapped her notebook shut. She took her sweet time putting it on the shelf with the others and checking the time, pretending not to notice the redhead's inquisitive expression. Then, she lifted Nicole’s chin with a thankfully not covered in blood finger.

"Don't get me wrong I love it here but," she grimaced, "it gets stuffy sometimes. Especially in summer."

Well, that much was true. The undergrounds of the castle were oddly warm, although not downright hot, compared to what one would expect from a castle. Pair that with the annoyingly humid atmosphere and having to wear a leather apron and gloves so as to not completely ruin your outfit and you got the perfect recipe for discomfort. She really ought to ask Cassandra about installing some kind of better ventilation down here.

"Meet me in the attic in about… an hour." She leaned down and their mouths were so close that Nicole could feel icy breath on her lips.

The attic? She's never been to the attic, it was not only off limits for most staff but also dangerous if rumors were to be believed. Not that she had the clarity of mind to voice any concerns when Cassandra finally leaned in to kiss her, complete with a nip on her lower lip that made Nicole’s breath hitch.

---

The fact that Nicole had no idea how to get to the attic could be a slight problem. She had asked Anita, but not only did she not know, she also seemed mortified by the idea. Another maid just gave her vague directions to look for a ladder on the top floor. As if that wasn't like trying to find the needle in a haystack. Or the needle in a giant castle.

She was just wandering around the top floor, praying not to stumble upon anyone who would be less than thrilled to see her there. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips when she heard familiar buzzing and steps coming towards her.

"Oh Cas-" she swallowed her words when she noticed red hair spilling from underneath a black hood.

"Nicole! What are you doing here hmm?" Her inquisitive hum was way too exaggerated the same way her fangs seemed too sharp when she grinned.

"I was just looking for Ca- lady Cassandra. She asked me to meet her in the attic."

Daniela's mouth fell open, almost forming an O shape. Then back to her characteristic giggle, almost as if laughing at a joke only she knew.

"What, you don't know how to get there?"

"...Not really," she sheepishly admitted.

And that was a mistake. Nicole would've preferred to wander the hallways until Cassandra eventually got bored enough of waiting and decided to come see where her glorified lab partner was. But her plan was ruined by Daniela wordlessly grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction she was going in. She even went the extra mile to partially turn into a swarm, which made Nicole's panic skyrocket. She didn't mind bugs. But having hundreds of them fly all around you, accompanied by manic giggling was a whole other thing.

Before she knew it though, Daniela let go of her arm, laughing a little at Nicole's stumbling. She gestured dramatically towards a ladder and said:

"There you go. Say hi to Cassie for me."

"Th- thank you my lady." And with a small bow of the head she grabbed the ladder and started ascending on shaky legs.

"And enjoy your date," she called out, once Nicole was at the top of the stairs.

Blushing, she decided to ignore the comment and start looking for the sister less likely to turn her into fly food.

The attic looked… old. It was obvious that people didn't come here often, although someone probably did clean it regularly as there were no cobwebs nor dirt on any surfaces, aside from some dust. It was full of neatly arranged boxes and crates, their contents as mysterious as the castle's inhabitants. Tentative steps took her across ancient floorboards, navigating old rooms.

"Rah!"

Nicole damn near jumped out of her skin, a string of curses spilling past her lips. "Jesus fucking christ Cassandra!"

The brunette only laughed, hands on her knees and pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"That's what you get for making me wait for so long."

"I didn't even know where the attic entrance was! Good thing one of your sisters came to my rescue." Nicole rolled her eyes at the last word.

Cassandra stopped laughing, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which one?"

"Uh- Danie-"

"Did she hurt you?" Cassandra grabbed her arms, golden eyes looking for any visible injuries.

Nicole just laughed softly, taken off guard by the display of concern. "No, no. Just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."

With an eye roll, Cassandra guided her further into the attic, through more dusty rooms, until they reached a short corridor, light spilling from its other end. The room they entered was relatively small, almost half of it occupied by stacked boxes as if it used to be a storage room like the rest of the attic and nobody bothered to completely clear it out. A few pieces of furniture were also present: a couch with a coffee table in front of it and paintings leaning against a wall to collect dust. This room however had a window, left slightly ajar, that allowed you to see the mountains stretching on the horizon, crowned by the beautiful orange hues of dusk.

Nicole moved to the glass to take in the view, mouth almost hanging open, when an ungodly screech from outside made her backpedal straight into Cassandra.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, eyes widening at the sight of flying creatures circling the towers.

"Mother's flying guard dogs."

"They sound the same way I'd imagine the souls of the damned do." Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the ghoulish creatures, almost as if keeping eye contact would dissuade them from attacking.

Cassandra just shrugged. "Wouldn't be too far off. Also here." She sat on the couch, gesturing towards a cup.

Nicole went to sit by her side, grabbing the mystery cup. She frowned slightly when the steam reached her nose, bringing with it a pleasant minty and honey aroma.

"Tea?"

"Since you were so disheartened about having to skip it earlier," Cassandra averted her eyes, seemingly finding the curtains very interesting.

After a long sip, she let out a content sigh. The warmth was more than welcomed, despite the weather. She set the cup back on the table and turned her attention on the brunette, now fidgeting with the corner of a pillow.

"Thank you," Nicole said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Cassandra smiled and turned around, locking their lips in a kiss that at first mimicked her gentleness, but soon turned hungry when dainty hands made their way to the brunette's nape, pulling her closer. She shifted them both, pushing Nicole down on the pillows littering the couch, until she was laying on top of her, legs on each side of her waist. Her focus was on leaving a trail of nips and kisses down Nicole's neck when the redhead jumped and barely stifled a yelp at another screech from outside.

"Ugh what the fuck is today, scare me out of my mind day?"

"How are you scared of these but countless dead bodies don't phase you?" Cassandra laughed, sound muffled by her position with her mouth against Nicole's neck.

"I used to work on corpses, not on ugly gargoyles that could chew my face off!" She gestured wildly at the window and the few creatures visible outside.

"You what?"

"You...didn't know?" Nicole couldn't help a giggle at Cassandra's confused expression.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought your mother told you already. Or your sisters," Nicole shrugged.

"They knew?!" And, after something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh I'm gonna kick both their asses."

Nicole couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, placing her hands on Cassandra's cheeks and, with a pout for dramatic effect, "Right now?"

As much as the sight was both funny and endearing, the warmth starting to pool at her core was making her beyond impatient.

The indignation in golden eyes was replaced by an all too familiar glint and black painted lips went back to their work on Nicole's neck. Sharp fangs pierced the skin there, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and a whine. After licking every last bit of it, Cassandra's lips moved to the collarbones and lower, hands slowly starting to undo the buttons of Nicole's pesky uniform that was in the way.

When both the button up and the skirt were discarded on the floor Nicole tangled her fingers through black hair and pulled Cassandra in for a kiss. Her free hand went to the back of the dress, pulling down the zipper and guiding it off of the brunette's shoulders. Once both of them were left only in undergarments, Nicole pulled back to look up at the brunette.

"If I knew I was supposed to dress up I would've asked the chambermaid if there's anything fancy in the uniform stash," she said, taking in the beautifully intricate lace of Cassandra's matching bra and underwear, complete with a giggle at her awful joking.

The brunette only raised an eyebrow. "Mhm I can take care of that. Not like you'll need these for long though." Her hands reached under Nicole's back to unclasp her bra and in mere moments that too was on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Then Cassandra bent down to crash their lips together, tongue slipping past Nicole's lips when a wandering hand elicited a gasp from her.

Cassandra was by no means a patient person. Quite the opposite actually. But teasingly dragging her nails across sensitive skin only to feel the girl under her squirm and whine when her hand just won't go where she needed it made waiting all the more sweet. Slender fingers started to toy with the edges of Nicole's underwear. After a groan against her lips and an impatient tug of hair, Cassandra finally gave in, slipping two fingers inside her. She felt Nicole arch into her, a broken moan escaping past her lips when she broke the kiss to let her head fall back into the cushions. Cassandra took that as an opportunity to kiss the length of her neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at a spot, enjoying every gasp and moan she drew out of the redhead.

With Cassandra's rough pace it didn't take long before Nicole was clenching her thighs around her hand. Cassandra kissed her, swallowing her moan as she came.

The small room in the attic, Cassandra's drawing room she would later find out, was the perfect secluded spot. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other. First evening of many.

[starlightsearches]

can we perhaps get a lil fic where the reader used to be a first order medic who crushed on Hux and used to treat Hux’s injuries when he was thrown around, but has now defected to the resistance. Hux survives TROS with injuries from, well, everything that happened, and is rescued by the resistance and taken to the reader (now the resistance medic) to be cared for. Cue them remembering eachother, and perhaps lots of touch starved hux who isn’t used to being looked after, and the two finally admit their feelings for eachother?? Sorry if this is so long and confusing, you can change or shorten any bits you don’t like or understand 😅💕

Hello friend! Thanks for the request. I’m sorry it took me a thousand years to write it; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hope you like it!!

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x Resistance Medic! Reader (GN)

Warnings: Language, an injury, angst and some medical care! (and non-canon compliance if anyone cares about that)

It’s the middle of the night cycle when Poe’s voice crackles through the speaker on your comm link, calling for you. Lurching from your doze, you search for it with both hands, brushing through the piles of records and empty caff cups before you spot the little cylinder.

“I’m here,” you hold the comm close to your mouth, using your other hand to gather up needed supplies, shoving them in your medkit haphazardly. Poe never commed you before a landing—not unless things were bad. You push the panic away, steeling yourself for the worst case scenario. It wouldn’t be the first time you had held a friend’s life in your hands, but it never got easier; you just got stronger. You could be stronger now. “What do you need?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad this time,” he clarifies, and you let out a shaky breath, offering your thanks to the universe, “we picked up a, uh, new recruit. He’s pretty banged up, having some trouble walking. I know you can get him feeling better; can you meet us at the landing pad?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you shove the comm in your pocket, brushing a hand over your hair. There’s a soft hint of disquiet resting on your shoulders, a crawling over your skin. Poe wasn’t usually this cryptic. Something big must have happened.

You decide to leave your medkit—since the mystery patient’s injuries don’t sound too serious — walking swiftly through the sleeping base. Your footsteps echo quietly against the stone walls until the sound is swallowed by the night melody of Ajan Kloss. The warm humidity kisses your cheeks when you step out into the open, a gentle breeze pushing it away before it can linger.

The landing pad is dormant, rows and rows of sleeping x-wings keeping you company as you watch for any sign of the Falcon, and soon enough you spot it, tracing its path through the night sky.

You spy Poe's boots at the mouth of the hatch as soon as it opens—Rey must have been piloting, which meant Finn would be in the cockpit with her. Strange. Poe doesn’t usually give up control of the pilot’s seat so easily. A shiver travels up your spine despite the warm night air.

"Hey, sweetheart, can you give us a hand?" he calls out to you, and you're about to tear into him for being so fucking cryptic, stomping up the loading dock. That's when you notice the shiny pair of boots near Poe's, blacker than the night around you.

You can't move anymore, frozen mid-step half-way up the ramp, heartbeat pounding like a warning siren as your eyes trace up the boots, the battered, black uniform and you don’t need to see his face to know that you're not dreaming this time. It’s him.

You keep your eyes on Poe—only on Poe—and your distress must show in your features because the look he gives you in return is full of concern.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

You glare at him. "What the hell is this?"

It has to be a joke. Poe is trying to be funny, calling him a recruit instead of a prisoner—but the general isn't handcuffed. He has an arm slung over Poe's shoulder, leaning heavily against the pilot. There’s a tear in his pant leg, white skin stained red with dripping blood, the wound sore and angry. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the purpling bruises along his cheeks. It’s sad how familiar he seems when he’s broken, more recognizable to you now than he ever was in any holovid.

“See, Hugs, I told you,” Poe clears his throat, voice light with humor but he watches you carefully, a warning in his eyes. You can see enough of the general to know he’s not looking at you, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, his jaw set.

You cross your arms over your chest, letting your expression settle into a scowl. “Told him what?”

“That you hadn’t forgotten him.”

Damn him. He had asked about you? Your heart softens in spite of yourself, and you turn automatically to Hux, the last shreds of your anger falling from your chest. He still won’t meet your eyes, shoulders slumped, his breathing a little labored and you’re sure it’s not just from the pain.

How many times had you been with him, just like this? Hidden together in forgotten corridors or tucked away in his quarters, the threat of his father looming over you while bandaging wounds and feeling for breaks and ignoring the way his chest heaved underneath your fingers. There was no word for that kind of despair, seeing someone you loved so quietly and so desperately wrecked so completely. It snakes under your skin again, finding it’s old favorite cracks left unhealed; if you’re not careful, it will swallow you whole.

There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this: fix what you can.

You shift your weight from foot to foot before heaving a sigh, “fine, let’s go.”

“Yes! You’re the best; I owe you one, sweetheart, really—” he’s already moving out of the general’s grip, waiting for you to take his place and you look at him in alarm, stepping back.

“Wait,” your adrenaline spikes, and you have to force yourself to take a breath, “you’re not coming with us?“

He shakes his head, “Rey, Finn and I have some, uh, unfinished business. We only stopped by to drop him off.”

Well shit—you take a few steadying breaths, hoping your anxiety doesn’t show too plainly on your face. You hadn’t thought you’d be alone with him so soon. You don’t want to think about why that makes a difference to you.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, force an unconvincing smile to save face. Poe wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important. He furrows his brow—not yet convinced.

“You’re gonna be alright?”

“Yeah . . . yeah. I’ll—we’ll—be fine.” Your smile tightens at the corners but still doesn’t reach your eyes, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before walking past you to the cock pit.

And now you’re left alone.

“Let’s go,” you slide into place under his arm where he’s propped himself up against the wall, gripping him tightly around his waist, fingers holding him steady at the ribs.

He flinches, pulling away slightly, and you loosen your grip.

“Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, eyes examining his reflection in his boots, and you place your hand with a little more care, hoping he can’t feel the way your heartbeat echoes through your body.

It’s been too long since you’ve last touched him; it still makes your heart race.

The trip back to the medbay is slow and arduous. It’s not just the gash in his leg that’s impairing his movement—his ankle is very clearly broken, based on the way he winces whenever it makes even the slightest contact with the ground.

He’s certainly not heavy, by any means, but supporting his weight gets more difficult with each step, and you’d rather not see him sustain any more injuries if your grip on him doesn’t hold.

��We can rest here for a moment.” You stop near a pile of rocks by the entrance to the base, lowering him down into a sitting position before finally taking the chance to catch your breath.

It's a dead night, a still one. Any breeze you'd felt earlier had faded long ago, and the air sits heavy on your skin and heavier in your lungs.

The general doesn't seem to mind, taking long deep breaths. If it weren't for his furrowed brow, you might believe he was asleep.

“How did you know I’d be here,” you whisper, and when he looks at you, there's hurt in his eyes.

“The Order always keeps track of their defectors—especially when they run away to join the Resistance.” His tone is bitter and biting, and it hurts you more than you like.

“I didn’t run away to join the Resistance," you respond, trying to tamp down a sneer, angry at yourself. For letting him get to you so easily, for caring so much about what he thinks.

For missing him every day since the last.

Still, it was true, what you said. When you left, you only wanted to get away from the Order—it didn’t matter where.

The Resistance was the only place you were welcomed.

You had wanted it to feel like home, and parts of it did—eating late dinners with Poe in his quarters, watching over your patients, celebrating with the rest of them after every success, the same belief that they had for the cause beginning to burn in your chest.

But something was missing, in every one of those moments. And now that he's here, you wonder if the space you'd left empty for him is too large to be filled.

"Did you—" he shifts, groans, and your veins flood with anticipation, hanging on to some foolish idea of what he might say next, "did you ever . . . think of me?"

He looks at you with half-lidded eyes, surprisingly earnest; the pain must have gone to his head.

"We should get you to the medbay," you move again, no longer comfortable with staying still, "I'll go find you something to lean on while you walk, I'll be right back—"

His fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, pulling you back with surprising determination.

"I thought of you," he says, and you're looking in his eyes, so dark they're almost black in the low light, "every cycle since the last, and every cycle before that."

Your breathing grows shallow as he fits his hand against your waist, without pulling you closer or pushing you away.

"If you want me to leave, after . . . when it's all over, I'll do it. But I—"

He jumps when you press your lips to his, shaking like he's scared, but he leans into you as best he can.

"Neither of us are leaving again," you demand, and you think you might feel the ghost of a smile against your jaw, feel the slight grip of his fingers at your waist, "not if I can help it."

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[hansoulo]

you’re just a bottomless pit

part one of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - explicit language, allusions to violence, discussions of mild harassment, mentions of being royalty, kissing, choking, light non-descriptive smut, slight elements of dubcon, boba’s a big dick gotta be what you have amirite

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this is empire strikes back boba when he was just fucking around and finding out so i took a lot of liberties with canon don’t @ me. i offer u this picture as a helpful visual aid. merry christmas xx

༓ series masterlist ༓ 

Darth Vader was to be a house guest, and you promptly dunked your head underneath your bathwater.

The perfumed pool burbled for a few seconds while you groaned, listless and in the throes of dramatics, but your attendant only clucked in sympathy. Mila was long accustomed to your disdain for the Imperials who had come to occupy more and more of the palace. So, it seemed, was everyone except the Imperials.

After a long moment you emerged from below the water, droplets of it clinging to your face and trailing into your mouth. “Another Lord?” you asked incredulously, groaning even louder when the servant nodded.

You swam the two short strokes it took to go from one end of the small pool to the other, then floated bare on your back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Is he the one with all the strange…” motioning towards your mouth, you made a vague gesture. “Apparatus?”

“I believe so, your Highness.”

Humming noncommittally, you let your gaze trail off for a moment and stood rightside up again before returning to the bath’s edge. Its intricate tiles were cluttered with bottles, little glass tinctures and oils and soaps that all wrapped themselves around the room in a heady, heavy incense. You inhaled deeply and sighed. Lord Vader with the strange apparatus.

You couldn’t remember a time before your father, the sovereign ruler of Quas Killam, was a puppet for the permanently stationed General and a yes-man for Emperor Palpatine. Then again, you supposed it wasn’t really his fault his planet just happened to be Mid-Rim and full of exactly what the Empire needed. Being a yes-man was probably the only thing keeping his planet intact during the civil war that was supposedly raging right now.

But it was hard to feel sympathy for a man who dressed you up like a paper doll and never let your mother talk.

A soapy sponge was brought up against your back, smelling of lavender. Closing your eyes, you let Mila’s motherly hands scrub at your shoulders and arms until the skin tingled in a pleasant burn.

You picked at the tile grouts with a polished fingernail, head swimming with rows and rows of grey uniforms and white shelled armor. “Wonder why they’re here this time,” you said, speaking softly to no one in particular.

“Princess, if I may...” the older woman began.

“You may.”

“I believe they’re building another weapons factory to supply the Empire, in the north fields. Lord Vader was invited to oversee its induction.”

You kicked your legs lazily in the water, half-asleep and lulled into slowness by the refresher’s warm steam. “And I suppose he’s bringing along an entourage?” you asked, already knowing the answer. They always did, those Imperial sorts. It was just a question of how many and for how long they decided to stay, having taken any real power from your family royalty years ago after they’d discovered the trinium mines your planet was known for.

Your title had rotted of its relevance, made even lesser by the fact that you were the youngest daughter of seven. Your infant brother was being groomed for ventriloquism and you, you were being groomed for obsoletion.

Mila’s hands, roughened by years of laundry and lye soap, rubbed warm oils into your skin. “There was talk of a bounty hunter, your Highness.”

Your eyes shot open.

A bounty hunter?

 ⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You saw him a few weeks later, in the flurry of transport arrivals and mindless, droning ceremony. It was only a flash of his helmet, but it was enough to keep your imagination spinning for days.

Whispers from entreating servants and talk from stormtroopers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut had informed you of his reputation, his station, and his name. Boba Fett.

A particularly loose-lipped security droid regaled you with rumors of his being hired by Lord Vader, hunting a man named Han out in the Outer Rim. Quas Killam was on their way, apparently, good for information and heavy on the underworld dealings you’d always been shielded from. Truthfully, you didn’t much care. You knew no one got close to the Empire without blood on their hands. Whether they be kings or bounty hunters.

When you actually talked to the man, having been caught trying to eavesdrop on the chamber meeting he happened to be exiting the moment you leaned your ear against the door, any delusions of decorum were shattered the moment he opened his mouth. “Out of the way.”

You bristled, gathering up your skirts in a huff as you stepped away. Rude.

He was taller than you thought he’d be. Taller and broader than he looked before back on the cargo bay, a mere smudge in your peripheral vision. Now that he was alone save for you in the cavernous hallway, his words echoed on the marble tile. So much for espionage.

“My father’s in that meeting,” you replied shortly, putting on airs and doing your best to look like your mother, regal and cold.

Boba only stood there, thumbing the notches of his blaster until he caught the thin sparkle of the diadem crowning your head. A scoff, dismissive. “Then out of the way, princess.”

It wasn’t the title that bothered you. After all, it’s not like he was wrong. It was the way he said it. It was… it was patronizing! Condescending. Absolute inappropriate to a person of your station.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, more than a little attractive.

You shifted your weight onto one hip, scowling. “Don’t call me that.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, static-y and made even rougher by his helmet. “What? Princess.”

Stars, you heard that word a million times a day for a million different reasons. His saying it shouldn’t have felt so warm in your mouth.

Before you could volley back a reply, something equally biting and smarmy, the double doors he stood in front of began to groan open again.

“Better scram, little one.” Boba jerked his head towards the sound of your father’s advancing footsteps. “Daddy’s coming.”

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You often dreamed about what it’d be like to leave. Your title. Your station. All the bloody bores that came along with it.

But you had never even been outside the palace grounds. Probably never would, unless your father found someone willing to marry a low-ranking princess and hoisted you over their shoulder, a piece for a game you were never taught and never allowed to play. You’d already resigned yourself to that fact and half-way convinced yourself you were okay with it. But prisons were still prisons. Even if they were made of silk.

On the eve of Lord Vader's departure, everyone in the palace was preoccupied. Your father was most likely schmoozing some Imperial officer. Your mother, in bed with yet another headache. Your governess spent the day preening over your younger brother and your handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. You had a sneaking suspicion she was with one of the guards in a dark hallway.

So you slipped out behind a servant’s entrance and looked for a place to breathe.

Hardly anyone knew about this part of the palace gardens. It was sequestered behind so many winding footpaths and barely-oiled gates that the security droids never bothered patrolling past the main entrance, making it simple to duck underneath the overgrown hedges. The air was quiet; heavy-scented with all the flowers that had been planted and forgotten, left to grow wild across the footpaths and be crushed underneath your feet.

You used to come here quite often, when you were younger and it was easier to slip away. There were long spaces in your memory made of cotton, with hazy sun-soaked afternoons and the fountain that somehow still spouted out streams of cold water from the hands of a statue, some relic of an ancient ruler who had long since died. It was only a small courtyard, made smaller by the thick surrounding hedges and large chunks of cobblestone, but it felt like a whole galaxy to you.

A few minutes passed, then an hour. Two hours. A long, slow, summer stretch of day that just confirmed the fact of your irrelevance. It was filled in only by the mindless reading of your holopad and a few short naps. But better out here alone than stuck back inside, surrounded by those insufferable stormtroopers.

Maybe you spoke too soon, because a few seconds later you were toe-to-toe with Boba Fett, your back pressed to the garden wall. Stars, you didn’t even hear him walk in.

You’d think by now you would have learned to be more careful. Listening and being listened in on.

The helmet tilted up and then down, examining your sour expression. Rolling your eyes, you slumped against the ivy-covered brick, still smarting from your encounter with him a few days prior. “Why are you here?” A haughty, affected wave of your hand. “Were you sent here to fetch me?”

The man straightened out, stepping back from you with a broadening of his already broad shoulders.  Chips in his armor reflected tiny bits of sunlight, little silver speckles on green armor that looked even greener surrounded by wild flora. He hunted people for a living, so the fact that you were made quick work of didn’t really bother you. Still, it was a bit disappointing. Having to go back to the palace was the last thing you wanted.

“The king was concerned for your safety.”

Oh for Maker’s sake. “You mean he was concerned for his reputation.”

“I was told to find you-”

“-and bring me back so I could sit in a parlor and be supervised like a child.”

“Princess,” he sighed.

There was that word again.

A heavy swallow bobbed the lump in your throat, your chest flushed and littering the space between your bodies in a low buzz. You narrowed your eyes, not trusting your own head for something more articulate, and spit the question out. “What?”

He motioned towards the footpath, one hand resting on his belt. “Let’s go.”

You only crossed your arms with a raise of an eyebrow, mind floating an acknowledgement that you were very much acting like a child who needed to be supervised.

“I don’t make a habit of tracking down spoiled royalty.”

No one had ever called you spoiled before.

It was sort of refreshing.

The man cut an imposing figure, you’d give him that. With the helmet and blaster and… armor and such. You weren’t even entirely sure you remembered to put on real shoes before coming out here, still slippered and in stocking feet. What a pair you must’ve made. Incongruous.

You cocked your head and leant against the wall with the fabric of your dress swishing out around your ankles. Caught by warm, humid winds, its layers separated themselves into thin sails before falling down together again. Rhetorical questions were blooming alongside flowers. “Are spoiled royalty below your paygrade, then?”

A tip of his helmet said yes, yes they are.

You supposed as such, with the sort of reputation he had. Skilled bounty hunter. Feared mercenary. Expensive and coveted.

A lap dog.

Maybe there was more in common between you than you thought.

Another breeze whistled past, but the man in front of you was silent. “Well,” you finally spoke, brushing away the imaginary dirt on your dress. “I don’t make a habit of following around strange men, so we’re in a bit of a bind.”

There was an edge in his voice when you moved to walk away, a gloved grip snaking up and resting a deadweight on the back of your neck. You pushed up against him. Lothcat and mouse. You were both, but he was too. “I’m not telling you again, Princess.”

If he called you that again you were sure something would happen. What that something was you had no idea, but the epithet, mocking as it was, felt too good soaking in your sternum for it not to be a catalyst.

A breathy smirk left your lips when your hips canted downward and the gauzed fabric of your dress caught on his cuisse plate. “If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, reaching to flatten your palms across his chest, “I’d say you almost enjoyed chasing me.”

The hand on your nape tightened and his leather fingerprints dug unspoken threats into your skin that simmered, burning up and down your spine. You faked a pout. “Shame you already caught me, isn’t it?”

The grip surrounding you loosened just slightly, letting your back slide down the garden wall whose ivy-covered stone dragged at your bodice back. A small voice chirped up in the back of your head, chiding you for dirtying the delicate fabric before you willed it away, done with listening.

Boba almost growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My, my,” you clucked, shaking your head. Your fingers trailed towards the edges of his helmet and traced stripes where his brow bone would be. They were gold. For vengeance. “Aren’t we feeling insolent today?”

The man underneath the beskar scoffed, the palm that was at the back of your neck now wrapping itself around your outstretched wrist and pulling your hand away. You let out a quiet whine of protest, both at the loss of contact and just to see what it might do to him to hear it. When he stiffened, leaning away with every muscle seeming to tense and release and tense again, you were unreasonably pleased. There was still red blood underneath all that red paint.

Boba’s voice was clipped when he finally replied; the vowels came through strained and raspy. “I could say the same for you.”

Yes, he probably could, couldn’t he?

Then again, maybe your two wrongs could cancel out into being right and not at all compromising.

It’s not like you really did anything erroneous. Well, besides the running away part. But that was par for the course for you. All that was new was… him. And his hands. And his being alone with you. Which could possibly be construed as something wrong and compromising but how wrong could it be, really, if neither of you did anything?

Of course, this all hinged on neither of you doing anything. Compromising.

“Take the helmet off and I’ll go with you,” you offered, knowing how juvenile you sounded. You just wanted to see if he’d hear you. If he’d listen.

He did.

Boot spurs clinked as he stalked towards you, closer than he was before. It was invasive; almost chest to chest with no room for breathing as you were pushed up against the wall again, and you were met with the revelation that whatever you were toying with was probably a really, really bad idea.

Static filled your ears from the husk of his vocoder. “You know I can take you back whether you want to or not.” The roof of your mouth went dry and you remembered how Boba’s palm spanned the entire back of your neck, cradled delicately by leather fingers. He could crush your throat in one hand. Squeeze until you went limp. You wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I don’t need your permission.”

Your thumbs reached up to the lock mechanisms on either side of his head anyway. “I know.”

Fire felt good when you were close enough to be warmed by it. Whether or not you’d be burned was left to be seen.

The helmet lifted with a soft click.

Truth be told, you’re surprised he let you do it.

You dangled the helm almost carelessly by your hip, curling your fingers around the lip of it whilst your other hand stayed hovering near his face. He looked a bit older than you imagined, mid-thirties maybe, scarred and stern-looking. Handsome.

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead but all you wanted—stupid, stubborn, and yearning for a plaything—was to feel the black curls cropped close to his ears. Which probably counted as compromising.

Without the modulator Boba’s voice was deeper, the rumbling kind of richness that was used to giving orders and used to having them followed. It bore down on you as a concrete weight. “I’m not a kind man, princess.”

He forgot that you were used to giving orders too.

The coarse material of his collar chafed your palm as you held it, gripping a lifeline, and tilted your mouth up to his ear. The softness of your voice disguised your intention. It sounded innocent when you whispered it. Gentle, even. “I never said I wanted you to be.”

His lips bruised you and tasted like salt.

It was all tongue, teeth, barely cloaked violence, pressed until your throat felt raw and your heartbeat dropped below the ground to join whatever was left of your dignity. When your knees buckled, a gloved hand settled large between your shoulder blades.

You didn’t think your first kiss would be like this.

Hypothetically it would have been clinical, fumbling and awkward in your own inexperience. Out in front of a crowd somewhere after you met the eyes of a stranger at the altar. Or maybe in secret, like it was now, with a tryst of boyhood and a peck on the cheek.

Boba Fett was a stranger, but he wasn’t a boy. And this wasn’t a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t realize he had lifted you up by your hips until you were placed back down again, his having crossed the few steps from the wall to the nearby fountain with arms firmly wrapped around your middle and not so much as a strain of his hips. His strength should have scared you. It did scare you, a little, but the same hands that had gripped the blaster still at his side were deceptively gentle around your waist. You let yourself be brought down by his bended knees.

“Easy there,” Boba said, still crouching on the ground beside you as you slowly lay back on the lip of the waterwork, white noise burbling from the quiet fixtures. The flat, curved slab surrounding the shallow pool was wide enough that you needn’t worry about balancing, speckled gray stone warmed from weather and soon by skin. There was one moment where Boba allowed you to catch your breath and then it was gone, knocked out of your lungs in another assiduous touch.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, sardonic even as he cooed gently into your open mouth. Your back arched in an unwitting presentation and blood pounded a drumbeat in your ears. All you could see was Boba; his face and his shoulders and his arms braced beside your head, leaning over your horizontal form. Like you were prey. Maybe you were. “What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything. Would stand there, mouth agape and his eyes doing that strange bulging thing it always did when you did anything besides sew embroidery squares. Fainting wasn’t out of the question. It would be ridiculously fun to watch.

You huffed, chasing Boba’s mouth with your own when he shifted above you. The midday sun hung high, edging the bounty hunter’s tanned face in white. You could see your own eyes in the reflection of his pupils, could smell his warm skin. His canines scraped your collarbones. Everything was fast, blurry, and burning.

Stars above.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago you’d never been kissed on the mouth and now you were letting a killer-for-hire grope you like you were a back-alley harlot.

It wouldn’t end well. You’d curse after he left and hate yourself for letting him stay, because his staying would be brief and shallow and cruel, but right now, lying on the edge of a fountain with sunshine on your neck and a low voice in your ear, staying was the only thing you wanted him to do.

What an egregious lapse in judgement.

What a beautiful, electrifying lapse in judgement.

“You’re so—” a slurred pitchiness invaded your vocal chords, coating everything in bitter syrup. Your jaw was starting to numb from unforgiving lips. “—so rude,” you choked out, mind struggling to find footing amid its own dizziness. You felt like an overheating droid, full of bad code and faulty wiring that made your words and your actions discordant because even as you insulted the man, your hands were curling around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Always so rude, so… so mean to me. Makes me want—” you panted, voice breaking off into a whine when a calloused palm slid across the back of your thigh, “...want…”

His accent curled the consonants into a dance. “Want what, Princess?”

Expectant in their heaviness but teasing a smile in their lined corners, Boba’s eyes were the color of charred umber. Squirming in his arms, you nosed your face into the junction of his collarbones. “Want you,” you finally mumbled, admitting it in one long, pathetic exhale.

His promise had sharp teeth.

“You can have me.”

[storiesofsvu]

The Washington Saga Part 4

Elizabeth Keane x fem!reader Warnings: language, politics, smut references maybe?, Homeland canon issues (kinda but also spun around to fit this storyline instead). A/N: i wont lie, there were only supposed to be like, 4 parts to Washington, but there will likely be 6-7 instead..oops? Also yes, I’m taking major liberties with Homeland canon, mixing some shit up, but using bits and pieces that I want to.

Over the next few weeks or so you and Casey got easily settled within the White House, perusing though mountain after mountain of paperwork and background checks. A lot of it honestly was grunt work, digging through her opponents pasts, digging up any links between people, cleaning out social media accounts while making sure that Beth’s background was clean. Not that you had much to worry about there.

Currently, you were digging through her current administration. You knew that the assassination attempt had been a least partially an inside job, and were reading through the transcripts of what they’d managed to find out and take to court. Letting out a huff of a sigh you sat back in your chair, tossing the first part of the file onto the coffee table that was in front of Casey. A picture tucked into the file caught her attention, she recognized it as a general’s uniform and her brow furrowed.

“Who’s this?”

“General McClendon.” You replied, rubbing at your eyes, “he was the one on the ground organizing the attempt. He was brought in out of nowhere to head the security team but it was all a hoax for him to get Beth out of the hotel so the bomb could go off. He was in the security room that day, calling the shots, everyone who was killed that day was a charge on his head.”

“I take it he’s in jail then?”

“He had a heart attack while in custody.” You muttered, your eyes back on the court transcripts, “the investigations still ongoing though, to the public it’s closed but they know there was more than just his involvement, we just need to figure out who else on the inside was helping him.”

“Hmm.” Casey picked up the file, shifting the picture out of the way, that was when her eyes caught it. The General’s first name was Jamie…she started to wonder if impeachment had been plan B after assassination failed as plan A. She was about to open her mouth to ask you about Senator Paley when Rob burst into the doorway.

“Please tell me you’re caught up on the McClendon transcripts.”

“I’m about halfway done, why?” Your head tilted up toward the door, your brow furrowing at the look of concern across his face.

“They’ve determined his death as a homicide.”

“The guy’s been dead over a year and they’re just now ruling it?”

“They have a witness.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, “what does this have to do with us.”

“The witness has testimony that that President Keane was the one to have McClendon killed.”

“What?!” Both your and Casey’s voices rung through the room. Casey felt her heart pick up in her chest, this couldn’t be coincidental, and of course they would do it in the middle of campaign, a double whammy to take down Beth.

“They seriously think that she what? Plucked an assassin out of some foreign country and placed him in that jail? That’s ridiculous! The witness is obviously lying.” You urged.

“We know that.” Rob answered, “but what’s that’s not what the world will believe.”

“I get the bastards wanting to ruin her chance at staying in office, but this would ruin her. She’d spend her life in prison.”

“I know.” He sighed, “we’ve got a no phones meeting at eleven, and…all things considered, she wants to see you now.”

“Legal or personal reasons?” You asked, standing from your desk.

“Probably both.”

“Am…I needed?” Casey asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

“No. Sorry.” Rob grimaced, “it’s a need to know basis, y/n will tell you what she can later.”

“It’s fine.” She smiled softly, “I know how it works.”

“Uh..just..keep familiarizing yourself I guess?” You shrugged, “fuck, you’re a big girl, you’ll figure it out.”

Casey laughed, waving you out of the room as you tugged your blazer back on and followed Rob over to the Oval. She slumped back into the couch, tugging her lip into her mouth for a moment wondering exactly what she should do. It was pretty clear there was a connection between McClendon and Paley, and she was willing to bet Paley was the one who was behind framing Keane, she just needed proof. Her mind drifted back to New York, thinking of tactics they would’ve used to gain classified information. A case of hers suddenly popped into her mind, remembering when Liz’s office had been bugged to find out where a key witness was being held, the case was one of those that she’d never be able to forget, but this time…a small grin slid across her cheeks as she started to think things through in a new light.

*

“Just how bad does this look?” Beth asked, letting out a sigh as she pulled off her glasses.

“From a legal standpoint?” You raised a brow, “pretty fucking bad.”

“Oh you know I didn’t do this.”

“You don’t even kill spiders…of course I know that you didn’t do this, but it looks like you had a hand in it. Not to mention you did threaten the death penalty in open court…and that’s on the record.” She scoffed and shot you a glare, “you asked!”

“What do we know about this witness?” She turned to Rob instead.

“Not much. Her name’s Simone Martin, Saul’s trying to dig up more of her story as we speak.”

“Am I allowed to send that name to Casey? I mean she’s currently doing nothing but digging.” You raised a brow, glancing between the two of them who both nodded and you fired off a text.

‘Witness is Simone Martin, add her to your list. I’m leaving my phone in the Oval for the meeting, it’s scheduled eleven to twelve, but it’ll probably run over. Call Reiko if you need anything’

*

Carrie glanced up from her computer at the sound of a knock on her door, her brow furrowed for a moment before she realized who it was, Casey’s slightly darker hair throwing her off.

“Casey, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stepping into the office when Carrie motioned, swinging the door shut behind her, “I uh…need your help with something.”

“Okay?”

“Y/n mentioned that you were one who wasn’t afraid of breaking a few rules…” she winced, “as long as you got the end goal. Was she correct?”

“Depending on the situation, I guess so.” Carrie sat forward in her chair, “everyone’s on high alert right now…do you know something?”

“I uh…got pretty turned around trying to find the Oval when I first got here and ended up outside Senator Paley’s office. He was on the phone with someone named Simone, and their relationship seemed…sexual in nature? But he said something about how she was the key to impeachment, all she had to do was read the script he gave her or something? And that he and Jamie had already gotten things in motion.”

“Did you tell anyone this?”

“No. I had no idea who any of these people were, or what the hell was going on. Then today I find out that the main operator in the assassination was Jamie McClendon…I’m starting to think that Paley was in on it. How much do you know about him?”

“Aside from being a republican, sexist, pig? Not much. What’re you thinking?”

“Any chance you have a bug I could borrow?”

“You wanna find out the link between the three of them?”

“Yeah. Like, who this Simone person is, and where she came from.”

Carrie let out a sigh, “I like where you’re going, but I don’t think we can just leave a bug in his office, it’d get traced back too easily…and he’d probably find it. If he’s doing constant black dealing, he’s probably checking it pretty often.”

“What about his phone? If we could bug that, or clone it, we could try and find any exchanges between him and McClendon, and Simone. Would he be in on that no phones meeting?”

“What no phones meeting?” Carrie perked up,

“Apparently there’s a witness who’s coming to testify that Keane put a hit out on McClendon when he was”— she stalled, her phone buzzing, “sorry.” She pulled it out, her eyes widening at your text, “oh fuck.”

“What?”

“Simone is the witness….”

“Fuck.” She swore, shutting her laptop, “we need him under surveillance…but I know he’ll find the bug.”

“What if it’s not a bug.” Casey glanced up suddenly as her brain remembered one of her first cases,

“What’re you talking about?”

“Hear me out, cause I know this sounds crazy, but I worked a case where drug runners were using pets to do deals out in public. But they had surveillance on them too just in case something went down, and to have something to hold over their customers later on. How does Paley feel about dogs?”

“He’s got like three I think, god, the only time I’ve seen him smile was when he was petting Nic.” Carrie laughed, “you…wanna plant the bug on Nic?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to plant the bug in his office, just plant some fucking dog treats to get Nic in there on a regular basis, he has full access to the entire White House and it’s not weird for him to be wandering around alone.”

“And Paley won’t think twice about having confidential conversations in front of a dog.”

“Exactly.”

Carried hummed for a minute, thinking the idea over, not missing the way Casey was wringing her hands. The paralegal was suddenly riddled with anxiety over the entire thing, hoping she hadn’t said the wrong things to the wrong person. She took a breath, reminding herself that Carrie was there the night of the assassination, that her life had almost been taken too. You trusted her, Beth trusted her, now she was only hoping that she wasn’t about to lose another job for breaking the rules.

“You know…this may be some crazy New York crime hatched plan…but I like the way your brain works.”

“Oh thank god.” Casey breathed out with a small laugh.

“C’mon.” Carrie pulled open a drawer of her desk, digging through it until she found what she wanted, “give me your phone, I’m gonna synch up the receiving app.” Casey did as she asked, watching Carrie scan a QR code that prompted an app to download onto her phone. “What time’s this meeting?”

“Eleven to twelve but y/n thinks it’ll probably run over.”

“Okay.” Carrie checked her watch, “we’ve got about five until they’ll all be in there. If it’s a no phone it’s a no interruptions except for life or death situations, we should have more than enough time.” She stood from her desk, “shit.”

“What?” Casey stalled.

“We need Nic…and treats.”

“Carrie…” Casey laughed, surprising herself even with her casualness, “we left him in the residence this morning.”

“You have access to Elizabeth’s suite?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, “all things considered….y/n’s not really using the suite she’s supposed to be in so I moved into it to be closer. I…have trouble sleeping, and Nic helps with that so I’m in the adjoining one.”

“I hear you on the not sleeping.” Carrie grumbled, “these new meds are kicking my ass.”

“Tell me about it.” Casey muttered, “my eating habits are absolute garbage now. If it wasn’t for Beth insisting on breakfast I wouldn’t eat til well into the afternoon.” She paused slightly at the look on the other woman’s face, “what?”

“Nothing,” Carrie laughed, “just…not a lot of people are allowed to call her Beth…makes me know how trustworthy you are.”

“Thank you?” Casey’s head tilted.

“It’s a good thing.” The blonde reassured her as they made their way from her office, determined to try and track down what exactly was happening.

*

Beth was absolutely exhausted, mentally and physically. Part of her wished there was a way for her to get back to the residence without having to walk tonight. She honestly wasn’t that surprised that they were coming for her, coming for her presidency, that she was on the axe block….yet again, but she had to wonder why they didn’t just try earlier, or where this bullshit was coming from. It was clear whatever ‘witness’ they had, had been paid off, or convinced into it. Aside from threatening the death penalty, she had done nothing with McClendon aside from wanting him arrested. Which…considering his command almost killed both her and Carrie, and managed to murder nine other people, wasn’t a stretch.

Finally she reached the residence, thankful to be away from prying eyes for once, kicking off her shoes and tossing her blazer onto a hook as she rolled up her sleeves and undid a few of the buttons on her blouse. She paused suddenly, looking into the living room, Nic was splayed out on the floor, his eyes shifted up to her as she looked at him and she nearly chuckled, moving towards him.

That was when Casey felt the shadow move over her face, blocking the light, she scrunched her face before she opened her eyes, looking up at Beth.

“You have a rough day?” The President asked with a small grin on her face.

“It was fine.” Casey huffed, her hand moving to give Nic a scratch behind the ear, he in turn licked at her cheek.

“You do remember that Nic’s a therapy dog, right?” She mused from above Casey with a small smile, “he’s being your weighted blanket right now to help you calm down….what happened?”

“I can’t talk about it.” Casey murmured.

“You can’t talk about it or you don’t want to talk about it?” Beth moved toward the kitchen, pulling down the bottle of scotch she had been dreaming of since lunch, pouring out two glasses before she moved back to Casey.

“I may or may not have broken a few rules today.” Casey admitted, still not moving from the floor, Nic tucked into her chin, nuzzling into her softly. “And I may or may not know a bunch of information that is relevant to the shit going on with the investigation on you. But it was prompted by something that’s totally not admissible and the rest of it is….not something that would hold up in a courtroom. And I….I feel like an idiot for even thinking it was a good idea. Fuck.” She suddenly swore loudly, feeling the guilt shoot through her, tears nearly welling in her eyes, “I should fucking know better. I ruined a perfectly good case in New York, I know what this recklessness can cause. I should’ve played by the rules…I just..wanted to protect your presidency, you deserve to win again. And this bullshit with McClendon is garbage.”

“Casey…” Beth began softly, extending the extra glass to her, “how about we start with you getting off the floor, have a drink. Did you eat dinner?”

“Yeah.” She murmured, “there was some stir-fry in the fridge.” She let out a sigh, nudging softly at the golden, shielding her face slightly as he licked at it repeatedly before darting off to his food bowl as she pushed up to standing.

“You do drink scotch?” Beth raised a brow and Casey let out a laugh.

“Of course.” Casey took the glass from her as the two settled on the couch, Beth turning the t.v on for some background noise, flipping through a few channels before she settled.

“I hope you don’t mind the South Park. It was my son’s favourite.”

“Not at all.” She took a sip of her drink, “honestly, it’s one of my favourite wind down shows.” She paused for a moment, “..where’s y/n?”

“She had a couple of extra meetings. Said she was going to the gym after.”

“You really love her…” Casey trailed off, not sure of where she wanted to go with the conversation, or if Beth would give her any insight into whatever relationship they had.

“I do.” She replied, glancing to the younger woman, “and, before you start to worry….I know everything about the penthouse. I know her and Liz had something special, I never asked y/n to remain faithful, I encouraged her to live her life. I could never ask someone to wait eight years for me. As much as I love her…that’s far too long. If and when this is done…I would love for her to still be available and I can only pray she would still care about me enough to give me the time of day.”

“She does.” Casey mused over a sip of scotch.

“Hmm?”

“She really, really does. I see the way you two interact, the two of you? I mean..I’ve known y/n since college, she loves you more than anything else in the world. I don’t want to overstep but…you two are basically soul mates. The way I’ve heard her talk about you? The fact that we’re even here now? Working for you when she needed a break and I needed an out?” She let out a weary sigh, her gaze settling in the distance as Nic suddenly came to rest his head in her lap. “All I want is for someone to look at me the way you look at her when you think nobody’s watching.”

“Oh Casey..” Beth’s voice softened, squeezing at the younger woman’s hand, “there’s someone out there for you, believe me. I know it might not feel like it right now, but you’ve been going through an incredibly rough patch. Believe me…when it feels like the world is turning its back on you, there’s a light waiting around the corner. I would know.”

“Oh fuck..” Casey swore, burying her face in her hand, “I’m sorry. Here I am complaining about meaningless shit while your entire livelihood is on the line.”

“We all fight our own battles.” She chuckled softly before taking a hefty sip of scotch. “I’ll warn you now though, don’t get any more involved in politics than you currently are.”

“Definitely not planning to. How’re things looking? If…I’m allowed to ask.”

“I have faith in my legal team.” Beth replied with a wink, “y/n has a knack for being able to track down dirt on people that would shock the public, and it always comes with the proper evidence. And Dunbar? She may not always play by the rules but she’s fucking ruthless. It’s part of how she made solicitor general so quickly. I’m sure you’ll end up meeting her tomorrow.”

“You trust her?”

“Enough that she’s even my decoy. We’ve worked alongside each other for years, and I know I’m the last back she’ll stab the knife into. She wants my seat when my term is up, not that she’s let anyone else in on that tidbit.”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure the right people have your back.”

“I am.” Beth smiled softly. Nic shifted, moving the few steps over to her as he pawed at her leg, letting out a low whine, “oh are you deciding to be needy now?” She asked with a chuckle.

“I can take him. I know you must’ve had a long day.”

“It’s fine.” She waved her off, “to be honest I need a fucking cigarette right now.” She pushed off the couch, depositing her glass in the sink, “don’t…mention that to y/n though.”

“I won’t.” Casey laughed.

“Help yourself to more scotch, remember you’re more than encouraged to make yourself at home.”

“Yes M’am.”

Beth chuckled, shaking her head at Casey playfully as she collected everything she needed, coaxing Nic out the door with her. After the day she’d had she really did need to clear her head, and the cool evening air would at least help with that. As calm and collected as she’d been with Casey, she truly was beyond furious, and extremely worried.

She had begun to wonder if she simply stepped down, withdrew from the race if that would be enough, and this so called witness would disappear and everything related to this case would just vanish into thin air. Though…if these were the same people who had wanted her dead two years ago, they probably wanted her more than just out of office. Taking a shaky pull of her smoke she started to kick herself for hiring you for the position of her attorney, she’d just been trying to offer you an out, get some more time together privately before her next term. Instead she’d pulled you into an incredibly stressful situation where there was no doubt you were about to be so buried in work you’d barely be taking care of yourself. She knew you’d do whatever you could to get her out of it, and wouldn’t rest until you found the solution. She made a mental note to keep as much of an eye on you as she could over the next few months, the last thing she wanted was to accidentally take you down with her. You still had a career waiting back in New York, she refused to have you fall on your sword for her, no matter how much you loved her.

________ @screenee @1000spices @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @laurenhope13 @imlike-so-gaydude @svulife-rl @gay-ass-bitch @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @lazarettta @bumblebear30 @paulson-hargitay @molllss @snowsgay19 @solemnnova @svushots @nocreditinthestraightworld @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @thatgaygiraffesquirrelgirl @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @Weexinling @addictedtodinosaurs @rosiewritesagain @imaginaryoperagloves @wandasbrat @lustvolle-liebe @Dun-duns @disn3y7 @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @swimmingstudentchaos891 @anne-gillettes-wh0r3 @season4scullyhair @whimsicallymad @alexusonfire @mmmmokdok

[reveniemus]

8 or 21 or 31 for the hug prompts. love your new look 😉💖

thank you!! i am obsessed with this photoshoot 😭😭 also i hope you enjoy some angst i guess?? bc i write that now???

geraskier in angst major, no. 1

pairing: gen with lite!geraskier rating: teen warnings: implied torture, mild descriptions of injuries jaskier is not having a good time

on ao3

Never say never, his mother had always said, and yet, Jaskier had foolishly done just that. He thought he was never going to feel anything worse than the heartache of what happened on the mountain, and yet, this moment was a very strong contender. It was such an obvious thing too, and Jaskier knew if Geralt had been there, he would’ve tutted at him for being so oblivious to the fact that the men giving him the eye were not, in fact, looking for a one night tumble.

Then again, if Geralt had been there, Jaskier wouldn’t have been flouncing about in a crowded tavern in plain view of some Nilfgaardian soldiers out of uniform. He would’ve been curled up in a bedroll on the forest floor, eating rabbit or deer and scribbling in his notebook while Geralt sharpened his swords.

“Bard’s tougher than he looks, huh?” he hears one of the guards say after he’s taken yet another beating. “That’s the third one today and he’s still conscious, somehow.”

“Barely. I bet if he got another one today, he’d tell us everything,” his companion says, and Jaskier’s body involuntarily winces at the thought of another beating so soon to his last one.

“Think the captain will let us? It’s not like we’re getting anywhere with the other prisoners,” the first one says, and he must lean against the bars because the scraping sound of metal against metal rings in Jaskier’s ears.

“Most likely. We haven’t tried branding yet,” the second voice answers, the gleeful tone to his voice making Jaskier’s stomach curl. Thankfully, it sounds like they’re finally, finally walking away and Jaskier lets himself relax when the sounds of their conversation dissipate.

He takes a deep breath and even that small, miniscule amount of movement makes his body ache. Jaskier tries to remember the things Geralt used to say about managing pain. The first step was to take inventory of his body to figure out what was wrong. It’s hard to do on his side, so Jaskier shifts, his face scrunching up as he lays on his back. It isn’t comfortable and the movement makes his bones feel like they’re on fire. How is it possible to feel this much pain and survive?

Okay, he can do this. He can take inventory of his body, just like Geralt used to.

Deep breath.

Something aches on his calf, near his ankle. Twisting it shoots pain up his leg, and Jasker bites down on his bottom lip to stop from making a noise. He can’t let the soldiers know he’s conscious enough to make noise.

Deep breath.

There’s a cut on his right upper thigh. He doesn’t know when he acquired it. This last beating? The one before? It’s not actively bleeding anymore, which is good. He thinks it means they didn’t hit anything major.

Deep breath.

A stabbing pain shoots up his left arm. Fuck. He hopes it’s not a break, because the implications of it makes his heart ache. Then again, he doesn’t know when he’ll see his lute again, so maybe it doesn’t really matter.

Deep breath.

His abdomen feels heavy. Is this what internal bleeding feels like? He should’ve asked Geralt how to know if you’re bleeding internally. Jaskier thinks he’d be colder if he were bleeding internally, or number.

Deep breath.

Jaskier’s head is pounding — not enough to distract from the rest of his pain, but just enough that his thoughts are verging on disjointed. Geralt would yell at him for not being able to focus.

Deep breath.

That definitely means there’s a head injury though. Jaskier remembers when Geralt had fought two fiends and they’d knocked him around. He had insisted that Jaskier not let him sleep, that it would make a head injury worse. Jaskier isn’t sure what worse means when the main part of your body that keeps things running is already hurt, but he thinks it means he shouldn’t sleep.

Deep breath.

If he’s asleep, though, he won’t feel the pain of his injuries. Jaskier closes his eyes, knowing Geralt would hit him for genuinely contemplating falling asleep while he’s got a definitive head injury.

Deep — Jaskier is jolted out of his breathing routine by a loud clanging noise, followed by thumps and screams and the sound of running. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, grimacing with the motion, to peer past the bars of his cell.

He should move back, maybe hide in the shadows and hope that whoever is attacking the prison will leave him alone. If he can have time to heal, he can get out of here and find … who? Geralt made it very clear he didn’t want Jaskier around, and it wasn’t like Jaskier could go around and find his old acquaintances. Anyone who was associated with him could be in danger because of his association with the White Wolf.

Maybe he could turn this prison into his home after whoever is out there finishes off the Nilfgaardians. Jaskier lays back down, closing his eyes and taking deep, slow breaths as the noises of fighting seem to get closer. If he lies here, maybe they’ll think this cell is empty of viable prisoners and they’ll keep going.

“Fuck,” he hears a voice grunt before the door to his cell opens. The voice seems familiar, but Jaskier can feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness and his already-vaguely-disjointed thoughts connect even less and less. “Please don’t be dead,” the voice says, and Jaskier vaguely feels a warm body next to him. The immediacy of the movement makes him flinch, and he hears another curse from the voice.

Familiarity blooms inside him, and he winces. His mind is playing tricks on him, it seems, maybe the Nilfgaardians decided an illusion would be more useful than a branding. Jaskier tries to curl into himself, but the pain that courses through him makes him scream.

“Jaskier, please, don’t move,” the voice whispers, gruff and gentle, and Jaskier whimpers as a hand brushes back his hair.

“Please, I don’t know anything, I swear,” he pleads, fighting back tears.

“It’s okay, Jask, you’re safe,” the voice murmurs, and Jaskier whines. The illusion feels so real it makes his heart ache, reminds him of the moments he clung to when Geralt’s fingers would barely brush over his skin when they were making camp, or when Jaskier made a stupid decision that got him hurt.

Suddenly, Jaskier is being tugged up, and he’s shocked into looking up. His eyes widen when he sees a shock of long white hair and amber eyes, a soft whisper escaping his lips.

“Yes, it’s me. We have to keep moving,” Geralt says, and Jaskier feels arms on his waist as he somehow gets on his feet. “Can you stand?” he asks, his eyes glittering with concern in a way that makes Jaskier’s head spin.

“You’re here,” he whispers, leaning back a little as Geralt’s hand moves from his waist. It’s not far, he can feel the heat of it against the ragged remains of his chemise, and Jaskier feels more light headed than he has in weeks.

“Careful,” the witcher murmurs, catching Jaskier’s arm as he sways on the spot. “I’ve got you, Julek.” His arm wraps around Jaskier’s waist and he brings him closer.

Jaskier inhales Geralt’s scent, a mix of leather and horse that’s difficult to duplicate, much less recreate in an illusion, and ignoring the sharp ache in his lungs at the movement. He’s probably got a broken rib, he realizes, as he involuntarily leans into Geralt more. “You’re here,” he repeats, his eyes fluttering.

“I am, but don’t fall asleep on me yet. You’ve got a nasty head wound,” Geralt says, his voice gruff and stern and the familiar tendrils of it makes Jaskier’s heart warm.

“Y’know, even if this was a dream, it’s a nice dream. I hoped this would be my last,” Jaskier whispers, like it’s a secret, as he leans into Geralt, wrapping an arm around the witcher’s waist. He has no balance, so he feels the sway of his body as he tries to recalibrate his center of gravity.

“It’s not a dream, and it sure as hell won’t be your last one.” Geralt’s response is angry, almost aggressive, and Jaskier thinks maybe he’s far too out of it to be affected by that. “Yen’s outside with a portal waiting for me to get you out of here,” he continues, tightening his grip around Jaskier’s waist and moving out of the cell.

Jaskier makes a soft noise, burying his face in Geralt’s neck as the witcher half-carries him out of the keep. “You came for me,” he mumbles, voice slurring as darkness starts to take a hold of his consciousness.

“I always will,” Geralt whispers. Or maybe it’s just a part of Jaskier’s dream. “You’re not dreaming, Jaskier, and I need you to stay awake.”

Did he say that aloud? Oh. Did that mean he was definitely dreaming or definitely not? Jaskier is about to say something else, he thinks, but putting words together has become very difficult. What a useless wordsmith he is, isn’t he? Not able to put words together! What a sorry excuse of a bard.

“What’s he babbling about?” a sultry feminine voice asks, and Jaskier’s body jerks, the pain shooting from his possibly-twisted ankle as he tries to run off. “Bard, what are you doing? Has he been doing this the whole time?”

“Hm,” Geralt grunts, shifting to hoist Jaskier towards the shimmering portal that’s just outside of his fuzzy eyeline.

“Why didn’t you Axii him like one of your horses?” Yennefer asks, her voice coming closer as Jaskier’s arm lifts and loops over someone’s neck. A lilac and gooseberries someone.

Geralt lets out a grunt that, if he were in the right state of mind, Jaskier would be able to translate, but for now, he knows there’s an underlying layer of softness to it that he wants to hold close to his heart.

“Oh, you stupid witcher,” Yennefer mumbles before Jaskier feels chaos surrounding him. It’s the last thing he consciously notes for himself before his vision goes black and his mind goes empty.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Guarding Your Heart (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: THE ENDING WAS PURRRRRFECT i'm gonna miss tfatws sm. I don't know if on the raft they allow inmates to be visited but let's imagine it: you visiting zemo for the first time since he was sent there, a little angst cuz you can't have skin-to-skin contact anymore but you two talk about some things and how life is going, if everything is okay 🥺🥺🥺 (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Inmate: Helmut Zemo. Accommodation: The Raft. Visitors: Generally prohibited. Exceptions: Maintaining a friendly relationship with an Avenger.

Words: 3,547

Warnings: angst, jail (is that a warning?), fluff, feels, my emotions, I didn’t use any pronouns!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Countless attempts from your side had been ignored. You were an average citizen. No superpower, no higher-up. Ordinary. It appeared that the Raft did not think highly of such people. Not when they proposed to visit an inmate. And definitely not when said inmate was the same Baron who broke out of a high security jail in Germany. But he was yours. His imprisonment in Europe had not been as restricted. For his sake, you had moved to the other end of the world. Simply so you could spend a bit of time together every day. Your old life had been completely abandoned. And for almost ten years, Germany had been your home. Until Sam & Bucky entered your lives once again. Though you started off on the wrong foot, this time around, you were more than grateful for their presence. Without them, especially without the former Winter Soldier, Helmut would still rot away in that tiny prison cell. Your time together had been adventurous. Often hazardous. Life threatening. In the end, you made it out alive. Coming back stronger than ever before.

It could have been a fairy tale. A long awaited fulfillment of a seemingly impossible dream. Were it not for the Wakandans crushing your reverie at the worst place imaginable. The Sokovian memorial. Where you held one of his clothed hands in both of yours. Shedding tears, remembering his old life. His wife. His son. You would never replace them. At the same time, you did not even intend to. His past was part of him & made him to the man you loved endlessly. Bucky did not receive your blame. Were you mad at him for handing Helmut over to the Wakandans? Absolutely. Then again, the super soldier was the reason why he was out of jail in the first place. It was a fine line between resentment & gratitude.

Luckily, throughout the various missions you had been a part of, you gained Sam’s trust. He took a liking in you & when he saw you struggling, he was eager to help. Obviously, the Raft yielded when the Captain America himself transmitted an inquiry. Only a few hours passed & you were on your way to Helmut’s current accommodation. A small jet that had been arranged just for you. In this instant, you did not feel average anymore. For a second, you experienced what it would feel like to live this kind of lifestyle. The one of a Baron. Why you were still unfamiliar with that even though your boyfriend was rich? Truthfully, you did not touch his money at all. It was his & when he did not have access to it while imprisoned, you did not dare using it either. Loyalty. Of course Zemo suggested utilization for you but you declined politely. After reasoning enough, he swore he fell even harder for you. The staunchness of you was remarkable.

It was bizarre. Entering the Raft with multiple workers circling you. You were told that these were the security measures that had to be met if someone wanted to visit an inmate. To you, it sounded like a poor excuse but you would not speak that thought out loud. Prisoners needed social contact. Physical contact could not be provided, that much you understood. But one would go insane without having the opportunity to see another human being that was not a guard working here.

Your body was a mess. Heart hammering at your chest with such a force, you believed it would burst any second. Irregular breaths left your lips. Trembling hands fiddled with each other in order to prevent others from noticing. Weak knees that threatened to no longer stabilize your body weight with each step you took forward. To bystanders, you probably appeared as a put-together person. On the inside, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. How would you react? How would he react? Would you have privacy? An audience? Observers? Innumerable questions flooded your mind. Seemingly, having only one purpose. To drown you. To drown every bit of you. But you would not succumb that easily. You were so close to where you wanted to be. The fight could not end now. Disappointment would cloud you. More importantly, it would cloud him.

Four guards. It took four guards to guide you through the facility. To your surprise, the insides radiated a calm, almost content atmosphere. The walk lasted an eternity. At least, that was what it felt like. Your Helmut occupied a cell at the very end of the building. No explanation had been given to you as to why they decided to accommodate him there. Maybe, with Sam’s assistance, you could change his quarters & move it further up to the entrance. That way, if you visited again, you would not have to waltz through every narrow hallway. Listening to the whimpers of some inmates. The screams. The bashing. The…pain. There was only one person here who you were familiar with. Helmut. The others? You had no idea what crimes they implemented to end up at a place as dark as this.

“He’s at the end of that corridor.” one of the guards motioned for the others to leave you alone. His hand gestured to a tall white door that had a small built-in window. Your sight was obstructed by the frosted glass of it.

“Will you join me?” you questioned, wanting to prepare for it if he had to accompany you.

“Generally, yes.” he breathed out, putting his hands in the pockets of his uniform. Then, he sighed quietly & eyed you once more. “But since it was requested you speak to him alone, I’ll leave you be.”

“Whose request was that?” your eyebrows furrowed. The Raft was not an institution for exceptions. At first, the mere thought of getting to see Helmut again was an impossibility.

“Captain America’s.” he stated monotonously. The way his face scrunched up made it obvious that he was less than pleased about this decision. As soon as you were out of here, you had to call Sam & thank him for making this feasible.

“Oh.” it was all you could muster at the moment. There was an overwhelming feeling you had to handle. And it was not exactly one of your specialties.

“The door is unlocked. Walk down the hallway & the cell will come into view. If something happens, there’s an emergency button that should be operated whe-“ you stopped him during his speech.

“Thanks for your concern but I’ll be just fine.” a genuine smile formed on your face. The guard nodded at you, still slightly uncertain, & turned around without another word. Letting the uncomfortable silence envelop you. Your legs were frozen in place, preventing you from running to him. Maybe it was the thought of having to say goodbye again. As wonderful as it was that you were allowed to visit him, the concept of abandoning him broke your heart. The difference between the jail in Germany & this one was that you could not linger close by. The trip lasted for a while. Daily visitations were out of the question.

Slow but steady steps moved you over to the door. A hand raised to the doorknob. The coldness of it grounded you the slightest bit. You had to take a few deep breaths, just like he had instructed you multiple times before, in order to reduce the fast, almost unhealthy pace of your beating heart. Your hand twisted the doorknob to one side & when you heard the lock click, you pushed the door open with your entire body weight. Otherwise, you would have been too weak to do so. Bright lights had you squint your eyes. A hand was used as a shield to block most of the luminosity. When your eyes adjusted to the different setting, you straightened your back & brushed non-existent dust from your clothes. This motion gave you something to do with your hands. It was a much needed distraction. You held your head high, looking straight forward to the very end of the corridor. At the sides, the walls were painted bright white. Almost too bright for your liking. It resembled a hospital & you had never enjoyed them. The consistency of it was broken with the glass wall you were staring at. The one which was straight ahead. His cell, you figured. But there was no silhouette you could make out. Considering the size, you should have noticed him already. But he was not there. So you no longer moved in slow motion but jogged over to the pane.

Fast footsteps echoed in Helmut’s ears. Time was fluid in a jail like that. But it had not been long since a guard brought him breakfast. Whoever visited him now, it seemed to be urgent on the basis of the fast pace they approached. He scooted closer to the frigid wall behind his bed. Something he did to mess with the employees here. At least it gave him something to do. Besides reading tons of books & listening to the radio that had been prepared for him. That was luxurious enough for an inmate. All of a sudden, it was silent. Too quiet for his liking. The next thing he heard was music to his ears.

“Helmut?” your broken voice whispered & filled the room. Was he turning hallucinational? Nobody would blame him in a place like this. But not even his imagination could recall your softness so perfectly. He stood up, carefully, & widened his eyes at the sight of you. There you were, on the other side of the transparent wall. Separating the outside world from the box he found himself in.

“(Y/N)? You’re here.” no time was wasted. Helmut dragged his body as close to yours as his cell allowed him to. One of his hands touched the smooth surface & you mimicked his actions. There were tears threatening to escape but you tried everything to keep them locked inside. “Don’t cry.” the volume of his voice had lowered. Nobody could listen to you in here but it almost felt illicit to talk at a normal volume.

“I’m sorry.” you chuckled shortly, your free hand coming to your face to wipe at your cheeks. How he wanted to be the one to touch your tender skin. To have you lean into his palm.

“What are you sorry for?” the proximity was given yet unattainable. Your gaze averted, staring at the pavement floor.

“I don’t know…For everything?” you shrugged your shoulders, laughing at how incomprehensible you sounded. Helmut shook his head. That was how he knew you. Always being the one to carry everyone’s burden on your own. Though you did not need to.

“Stop that.” it was an order but not a forceful one. One that eased the tension immediately.

“Okay.” you mouthed.

The floor was everything but comfortable but you made do. Sitting cross legged opposite of Helmut was dreamlike. In your dreams, you had skin-to-skin contact but that delight had been denied. Simply having him next to you was enough for now. Helmut had his elbows on his knees, watching your every move. Reminiscing every small detail he could get a glimpse of. But there was nothing new he came across. He remembered you like the back of his hand. Sometimes even more precisely than you did yourself. And yet, his observation resembled the first time when his warm, chocolate brown eyes fell onto your frame. Usually, you handled his stares well but something inside of you told you to inquire.

“What?” you asked with a playful, teasing tone. His eyes locked onto yours. You giggled at his confused state.

“Is there a problem?” Helmut turned insecure for a second. And people who knew him were aware that he was barely ever uncertain.

“No, not at all.” you shook your head to emphasize your words. “Just…you’re staring.” you called him out. It made him laugh, his head falling back briefly.

“Is it forbidden to stare?” one of his eyebrows perked up. “I believe most people are flattered by the attention.” though he played the serious act quite well, you could tell that he was joking.

“You’re awful.” you laughed at his antics.

“I am aware.” he saw you opening your mouth to disagree with him but Helmut was faster. “(Y/N)?”

“What is it?” you rested your intertwined hands in your lap. But he had noticed the trembles. He had noticed you struggling. And he realized that it was because of the position you were currently in.

“How is it like? Outside, I mean.” he skillfully changed the topic before the atmosphere between you two could shift in a negative way.

“You have a radio.” your finger pointed to the one sitting on a small table inside the cell right next to a stack of read-through books. “I’m sure you have an idea of what it’s like.”

“But I would love to hear it from you.” there was an encouraging smile on his lips that you could not resist, no matter what.

“Well, Karli’s dead. Sharon took care of her.” you began & watched him nodding approvingly. “Bucky finished his amends & it really looks like he’s doing much better. He’s taking baby steps but he’s doing well.” you could not suppress the small smile when you spoke about the super soldier. Helmut was not jealous. Bucky & you had become fast friends over time.

“Could you deliver a message from me?” he continued after a hum from you. “Tell James that I am happy for him. And thank him from me.” that warmed your heart. All of the previous disputes aside, they had started tolerating each other. You would not go as far as calling them friends but what was not could still be.

“I will.” you promised with certainty. “Right, um…Sam is Captain America. This job is made for him. I truly believe, with him, we’ll achieve great things.” you quieted down, not exactly knowing how to continue.

“So you established Sam’s & James’ success. But what about you?” he read you too easily. No other person saw through you like he did. That affirmed the close bond you two shared even further.

“What about me?” a phony dumfounded expression was plastered on your face.

“How have you been doing?” it was a question with so much emotion & care hidden beneath, it brought tears to the corners of your eyes instantly. Your attempts to blink them away were gratuitous. They started rolling down over your cheeks. So fast, in fact, you could not even wipe them away with your sleeves in time. Helmut’s heart broke at this sight of you. It was clear as day that you experienced a rough patch. The cause of it was him being imprisoned, that much he knew. “Talk to me.” he whispered & cursed the guards for not granting his partner access inside his cell. But they thought he would plan another escape. At the same time, they were unaware that he would not take the risk to jeopardize your safety with a second try.

“It’s…” you took a deep breath to steady your voice & avoid the wavering & cracking. “It’s been hard.” you admitted quietly. “Without you.” you finished. Your eyes flickered up to his face. His look brought you the tiniest bit of contentment. The way his body language could comfort you in such a way was prodigious.

“Love.” the nickname gained your entire attention. It was like all of your worries melted away by the simple sound of it rolling from his lips. The tears did not stop but they were mixed with happiness now. Gratitude that you shared this moment with him. You were here. Helmut was here. Similar to how it used to be. Yet, entirely different. “Please look at me when I tell you this.” & you obeyed without a second thought. “You are my world. If I could change this situation, trust me that I would instantly. I understand your struggles. And I abominate that I cannot dispose of your demons. Or make them part of my own. Your pain causes me aching ten times worse. It is painful seeing you like this. My love, you must promise me one thing.” it was hard for him to get through this speech without his voice fading at the emotions he was experiencing. But he had to stay strong for you. It would only cause you more distress if you noticed him showing how affected he truly was.

“Anything, Helmut.” your reply followed straight after. If he asked you for something, you would do your very best to make him proud of you.

“Promise me to take care of yourself. I would hate to watch you disappear because of me.” the sincerity assured you how important it was to him.

“Helmut, I don’t think I coul-“ he shushed you when he spotted what you were intending to do.

“Promise me, my love.” he repeated & you closed your eyes briefly, releasing another wave of tears.

“I promise.” your eyelids slowly opened & you could detect the relief in his at your words.

“How did you persuade them into visiting an inmate?” the atmosphere had shifted to a relaxing feel once again. And his attempt to start another conversation was welcomed.

“I didn’t do anything. Though I’ve tried multiple times…Sam came to my aid.” you chuckled at the memory & the excitement you emitted after his call. The news had been the best in a very long time.

“Ah, of course, if Captain America requests a visitation…” Helmut started.

“The chiefs are on board in an instant.” you finished his sentence & the both of you laughed at the tomfoolery.

“Means that Sam is the reason for your stay.” you confirmed his thought process quietly. “Please express my gratitude for him as well.”

“Will do.” you wanted to maintain the dialogue with him but a loud noise from behind you caught you by surprise. The same guard who had instructed your appropriate behavior inside these hallways was back. There was a look on his face you could not quite identify but it left you uneasy.

“Time’s over.” the statement felt like someone stabbed you with a knife. Not once, not twice. Multiple times to cause as much damage as possible. Helmut then stood up from the floor, gesturing for you to do the same. The moment you were on your feet again, your knees were close to giving out. Digging deep inside, you mustered all the strength you had left & fixed your posture. You did that to avoid radiating a fragile appearance. “Bid your goodbyes, I’ll wait by the door.” the guard took his place in the doorway, waiting for you to approach him. Your body faced Helmut’s & you rested both of your hands on the glass in front of you. He mimicked you & if it were not for the transparent border, you would have touched.

“I’ll miss you.” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against the boundary.

“I will miss you more.” he followed right after. “But you are always here with me.” one hand rested above his heart. Goodbyes were difficult. Especially with the ulterior motive of not returning the following day. It would most likely take a while until you would face him again. Secretly, so nobody could discern what you were doing, you pulled a small paper out of your pocket & pushed it through one of the many, tiny holes in the glass wall. It dropped to the floor on the other side. Helmut sent you a questioning glance which you retuned with a soft, gentle smile. Coughing behind you brought you back to reality. You had to leave. As much as it hurt, you turned your back to Helmut & distanced yourself from his cell. Arriving at the exit, you looked over shoulder one last time. One last time, your eyes locked. One last time, you let your tender features speak. One last time. While you walked away from him, he picked the small paper up from the ground. Unfolding it with much care, his eyes got stuck on three little words that were neatly curved in your handwriting. So when your eyes met, he returned that favor without anyone realizing it. His lips moved & you saw him mouthing that same phrase back. Your smile grew wider, as did his. And then you were gone. Of course, you would come back. And with Sam’s help, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He stared at the door where you just walked through. His gaze then turned to the paper in his hands. Never would he let go of it again. He would treat it like it was made out of gold. To him, it was. And it was worth so much more. The feeling it triggered inside of him could not be purchased. It could only be provided by a special someone. That special someone was you. Reading through the note one more time, he sat down on the uncomfortable mattress. The displeasure was ignored for now. For a minute, he bathed in the loving emotions you brought to him.

“I love you. -xo(Y/N)”

Published (05/09/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e, @simply-skeletons, @weareironmanbitches, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @takacsgram, @ya-boi-is-dead, @deamus-liv, @therenlover (thanks for your support <3)

[marvelyhp]

Still you | chapter II

Chapter II: The comeback

Synopsis: Y/n decides to help the Avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

Pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

Word count: 5,997

warnings: cussing, some fluff

note: I know I took so long but I had writer's block. then, I got covid and I felt too awful to write. But I'm okay now so this is what I could come up with. Not my greatest stuff. the tag list is open :)

Side note: I would really appreciate hearing from you and your thoughts!

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We managed to lower two floors without raising suspicion or making too much noise. At least, James and I were pretty silent, whispering if needed. But of course, Stark always had to open his damn mouth. He had been talking all the way —pretty loudly too— and he just did it again.

“Where’s the grandpa with the bad luck of having you as a tenant?” The man didn’t know the meaning of whispering. Or maybe he did. He just wanted to make my life more complex than it was. I looked frantically behind me, praying he had not seen me sneaking out. At the sight of no one, a breath of relief exploded out of me. But it didn’t last long, irritation quickly dampening my already poor mood.

“Shut the hell up!” I hissed. My patience with the insufferable man wearing thin.

“Oh, relax. If he sees us, we’ll knock him out and blame you.” He mocked, a chuckle erupting throughout the hall and following the stairlike a draft of wind. My blood started to boil inside my veins and I felt the heat spread from head to toes. I was afraid to be reaching my tipping point already because this was nothing. Two years out of practice left me hypersensitive to his shit. I wondered how long I would be able to stand the insufferable mortal and regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

“He is a good man, Stark. We will not knock him out.” I whispered as I pressed myself against the wall. Twisting my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I sneaked a glance at the stairs and the visible space from the top. “Watch your step here. His room is right underneath the stairs. We don’t want to wake him up.

I walked forward, pressing my foot in the first step, praying the creak of the old wood would keep quiet today as it did some nights. At least that’s what I hoped but it wasn’t what happened. A groan broke the silence in the room and I knew that if he was awake, he definitely heard it. I waited a couple of seconds, alert to any noise. When nothing came, I advanced four more steps. I focused on the one shadow dancing in the wall and relief swept through me. He wasn’t awake.

I turned, thinking the guys were still up. However, I let out a gasp when Bucky’s face came into view, mere inches away from mine. Thanks to the startle, the foot I had dangerously close to the edge slipped.

My heart stopped as I thought about the fall and the inevitable bone-crushing pain that would come after it. The stairs were pretty high and even though they were wood, it was quite sharp. Splinters roamed everywhere. I waited for the pain and the strenuous sound. It was phenomenal, the first time I saw the team in two years and I would meet them in a body bag with a broken neck.

However, it never came.

When I opened my eyes, blue electric eyes stared back at me. Our faces were inches away from each other. A hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him to hold me from falling. I was hyper-aware of our breaths clashing against each other, making the most sinful of sounds. Our lips were separated by a small space, too close for my brain to catch up quickly. I noticed how his lips roamed my face, stopping at my lips slightly parted by the surprise. His eyes held a fervent fire and my breath quickened once I felt the inevitable rush of warmth roaring my body.

Coughing slightly, I took a step backward, stepping out of his grasp. I forgot all about the landlord as I scolded myself. The man looked at me and there I was getting flushed like a raging hormonal teenager. I looked at everything but Bucky’s face, why I knew still had his eyes on me except now his jaw was firmly set. I wanted to ask him what was going on inside his head but a hovering shadow at the top of the stairs captured my attention.

“What are you still doing up there?'' The man looked utterly confused standing at the top of the stairs surrounded by darkness. I wondered if it had to do with what he just witnessed.

“You care about that grandpa, don’t you?” His expression was one of disbelief. His body wasn’t moving as if in shock or trying to process the information he thought was correct. And it was, but he didn’t have to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, unaffected.

“Of course you do. You care about the landlord.”

I whirled around as fast as I could with the incident earlier present in my head as a gruff voice filled the room. A short, stubby old man stood at the foot of the stair dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts. The ends of his hair stood up as if held by a string and maneuvered by a child. His narrowed black eyes stared back at us. His lips pressed in a thin line.

“Of course, she does, kid. Why shouldn't she?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. I followed the movement of the milk dancing in the glass on his right hand. I felt proud of the English I had taught him and how-- as much as I didn't want this to happen-- useful it would be. I looked back at Stark to find him gaping like a fish. Little croaks came from his throat but no coherent words came from him. It was the first time I had seen Stark speechless. “I’m an incredible landlord if I say so myself.”

He was.

I cursed inwardly. There were things I didn't want everyone to know. To a certain extent, I wasn’t ready for the team, for Stark, to find out that I wasn’t the monster he expected me to be. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me differently. Andrei had the power to change our whole dynamic.

It wasn’t that Andrei and I shared anything about life. Or at least I didn’t. Andrei liked to talk, to share his life with me, and try to make me talk. He said I was too reserved. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

It had been a warm evening. I could see the sun filtering through the windows. Shining onto the top of the show top and illuminating the cottage-like bakery. The dough in my hands stuck to my skin, lumps of a uniformed cream mass suffocating the fingers. The powdered white dust sat beside me and I felt irritated. I hadn’t thought about pouring it on the mixture before I touched it. ‘I was out of my element here’ I thought as I reached for the flour.

Andrei’s baker had abruptly called five minutes before work notifying him he couldn’t work his shift. His grandmother had fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip, hence his lack of concern for Andrei. He was the only living relative she had so it fell upon him to look after her. One missed shift would turn into dozens. The bakery was small and hidden in a remote part of Romania. The clientèle was not much besides those living in the small town from years ago, or even since they were born.

Everyone in town knew each other. When I arrived I had my doubts about staying in this place because of that same reason. I would be the talk for weeks and I couldn’t risk so many people questioning my presence. Except, I was lucky.

One evening, I sat in a small and dark corner of a bar near the outskirts of the town where it was most probable to see an outsider. Two men sat a couple of feet away from me, talking fairly loudly. Out of boredom and desire to know the people I might have been seeing every day, I heard and studied their moments. Taking notes about their behaviors and storing them far into the file I had on humanity. Their voices were cheery as they ate pastries that I was sure to not be from the small bar.

“This is so good! I can’t believe I haven't tasted a pastry this good since I left,” he moaned loudly in reaction to the puff on his hand. The crumbly dessert spilling powdered sugar all over his dark gray pants. “Andrei hasn’t lost his touch.”

“Who is this Andrei you talk so highly of?” The older male asked the seemingly young partner. The man wore an expensive suit, not one that could be found here and from what I gathered from their conversation, he had not grown up here. But his friend did. What he said next grabbed my attention the most.

“His bakery is pretty hidden in the town. Someone that didn’t know the road would not find him. He used to be a criminal, on the run and all that. But since he got out of prison he became a baker. the man sure has a gift. I don’t even know why he went to jail, because the man is a sweetheart. I think he was just dealt a bad hand.” The man kept munching on his pastry as he talked. The vowels all merging to create a soundless blob. I swore he said more but that was all I could understand and by the face of his friend, he understood less.

“It’s such a small town. Why was it never known?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that he was born here but left, something to do with his family. He came back years later, on the run from some people. People we assumed to be the police. Of course, the police followed his trail and eventually found him here. Two years later. He hid pretty well if, you asked me. He treats people with respect but he never talks about himself. He has always been reserved when it comes to his life, only telling small details that lead to nothing. You know, not enough to form a life picture…”

Before he finished talking, I was out of my seat, walking towards the pair. I plastered an innocent look on my face, one I had studied and perfected many times since coming to earth. I relaxed my posture, knowing I had been tense and tucked since I entered this town. I still can’t believe I was social before. Nobody would believe that if I told them now.

“Hey, those pastries look marvelous!” I said in a cheery voice when I reached the pair. Both of their heads whipped towards my direction, curiosity written in their faces. I could hear the questions in their head about me and where I came from and what I looked for in town. Typical gossiping mortals. I wanted to cut the tie between our heads, feeling bad about corrupting the men’s thoughts. But I couldn’t, not until I had what I wanted. “Do you know where could I find them?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, sweet thing?” Sweet thing, that’s funny. If he had been into the American news he would not say that.

“Calypso. Do you know where the place is? Can you explain it to me?” I said, trying to hide the hurry in my voice. His thoughts were front seat in my mind, not wanting to miss a thing.

“So eager.” He chuckled. Instead of the route, I was expecting, he thought about my naked form and countless sexual images began replaying. I resisted the urge to impale his backside, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. I played his game. I battered my eyelashes and looked at him from hooded eyes. I bit my lip gently and walked closer. Sneaking a glance at his friend, I noticed he was no longer looking at us. He seemed uncomfortable and had turned to his coffee and pastries. I wish I had a coffee to turn to.

“Maybe you could take me there. If you remember the way, of course.” He smirked and grabbed the jacket slung over the wooden chair he sat on. His friend looked at us, startled as if he wasn’t expecting my response. However, the joy of his friend would be short-lived. Images of the way to the small bakery filled my head and I smirked. Before he could take my hand to guide me to his car I asked for the restroom.

As soon as I came in, my eyes searched for some window I could use to leave unnoticed. And I found it in the corner of the bathroom beside one of the huge black and white mirrors. I locked the door and hurried to open the window, sliding through the door. The darkness of the night didn’t face me but my alert was high. Everybody could hide in the dark. My heart rocked against my chest as I saw the same guy from early waiting beside his car. I hurried along the alleyway, pulling my hood up and hiding my hair, disappearing into the dark.

“Calypso, boy for you.” I was brought from my memories by the rough voice of Andrei. Whoever didn’t spend much time with him would think he was mad all the time thanks to his voice and forever furrowed white bushy eyebrows. I matched the furrowing of his eyebrows when he mentioned a boy. I had been careful enough to not get attached or get anyone attached to myself so the mention of another human being besides Andrei spooked me.

Suddenly, the thought of agents looking for me or the usual threats I had filled me with panic. I heard the thunderous beat of my heart. The tremble of my hands disrupted the beautiful form of the pastry in my hands. quickly cleaning and taking away the apron full of white dust, I walked to the front of the door.

A dark-haired man in his early twenties stood next to the door with a blue box in his hands. A white shimmering ribbon adorned the delicate box, wrapping silkily around it to form a well-done bow. The chiseled bone structure of his profile caught my breath as he looked to the small, underpopulated plaza in the corner of the rondure. The curvature of his roman nose and the thin shape of his lips sticking in his profile.

I saw him regularly at the small bakery. His usual was a Papanaşia with a black strong coffee. He left three dollars on the tip jar three times a week and I noticed if he was overly happy, he would leave a fiver regardless of the day or how many days he had tipped. I had seen him mad twice in the store. Seemingly, he was one of those guys that harbored every trouble inside in a chaotic turmoil. I knew because I had invaded his mind one of those times. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, knowing he was always the type of guy that carried the sun on his shoulder. Every time he caught my attention, I tried to remind myself that he could’ve been an agent sent by Hydra to kill me or worse, kidnap me.

“Hello. What can I help you with?” I said, confidence laced in my voice. The confidence I did not expect to have. His head whipped towards me. A smile broke on his face at the sight of me. I saw the fidgeting of the box in his hands and the sudden bobbing of his knee. He didn’t appear to be harboring any secrets, or at least not deadly ones.

“Hey. I know this will probably look very weird to you but I’ve been watch- I mean not watching but I just- I,” His stammering caused a giggle to leave my lips involuntarily. My hand immediately flew to my lips, hiding the smile corrupting my face. He lowered his face but not before giving me one of those smiles that could light up a world. God, I felt sappy. He looked at me once again. “I don’t know how to do this. I definitely didn’t think it through.” He chuckled. One of his hands came up to brush his face while shaking it, side to side. I could tell he was nervous, maybe more that I initially had been.

Seeing him stammer was the cutest thing I had seen since the little green and purple flowers that grew back home and surrounded our palace. So, I decided to help him a bit. “You could start with your name,” I said, trying to not smile too much. Agent, agent, agent…

“God, you probably should’ve done that first. Nice one.” He said, more to himself than for me to hear it. “I’m Razvan. It's lovely to finally meet you.” I shook his hand. It was rough yet soft with elongated fingers caressing my own small and thin one.

“Calypso.”

“What I meant to say, you know, before I shot myself in the foot was that you caught my eye since I first saw you. Now, I swear I'm not stalking you because it could be easy to think after the horrible introduction I just did. But, yeah, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”

I did think about it. I swear I did. I thought about how he could be linked to Hydra and if you searched on the deepest paranoid corner, the Avengers. I thought he could’ve been just a random murderer whose floor I had shaken. My voice of reason said no. and with the saddest feeling settling my stomach, I told him what I thought. Or tried to.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t. You seem like the loveliest person b-but I…” For some reason, I couldn’t just say no. “Can I think about this?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth while I tried to get the words ‘go away and ‘don’t speak to me’ out of my mouth. His smile faded a bit, but even then he tried to keep his positivity and bright personality on. I could feel the waves of disappointment once I started speaking but hope soon came flooding back.

“Sure. I'm a complete stranger coming here every day just to see you. I can see how that’s alarming. take your time.” He shook his head as if realizing what he had just said. He chuckled and I tried to give him a small smile. Before I could turn away and leave, I felt him touch my elbow. I jumped back.

His brows furrowed quickly. “Forgive me. This is for you. And please accept it.” I thought about refusing but this would only prolong this meeting, pushing me to accept a company I wasn't ready for. I took the small box, my hand already trying to open the shimmering blue box. “No, please. Open it later, more calmly and everything and you can tell me whenever you’re ready if you like it.” I gave him a smile, which he returned brightly before diving back inside the back of the store.

Once inside, I undid the delicate ribbon, watching it dissolve like seafoam by the lovely blue water. The glistening gold chain with a tiny, colorful Koi fish rested in the center of the box. My heart swelled and I felt a way I hadn’t felt since Bucky. He remembered what I had told him that first, and the only time we had talked before today.

The voice of Andrei brought me out of my stupor with a jump. A hand traveled to grasp my heart while the other held the box tightly.

“Razvan is nice guy.” His voice was gruff and deep like it had been since I had met him. He walked behind me and grabbed a pack of flour to dump beside me. I looked towards the other and realized I was running out of it.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. Comes every day for two years. Great boy.”

When I didn’t say anything, he stopped cutting open the pack of flour and turned to look at me. “You too reserved. Not want to end like Andrei alone. Give guy chance.” That was all he said before he left. A tall wrinkly woman with short red hair calling out for him.

The last thing I thought that day after he left drove me to the same road he had set me on. I didn’t want to end alone or die alone for that matter. But what was I to do if everyone thought I was a selfish monster who just wanted to kill and bring chaos? The only person who didn’t feel that particular way was the same man I was leaving without saying goodbye.

Stark seemed to have gathered his words together because he suddenly began spewing some shit on Andrei. shit, he didn’t like it.

“The girl is no selfish girl. Only a fool like yourself would think so. Only a blind man would propose such a thing.” His brows were furrowed but Otherwise, he was calmly standing at the bottom of the stairs sipping his milk. He seemed like he would continue but I made sure to stop him

“Andrei, no.”

“I see. She holds you hostage and controls you, doesn’t she?” Stark countered, a smirk settling in his features. I pinched my nose, sighing loudly.

“You have to leave with this buffoon?” I walked down to his side, muttering an annoyed yes. “I’m sadder for you than him.” A chuckle escaped him as he hugged my shoulders with one arm. I tried to push him away but found no will to do so. I would miss Andrei. He felt like the father I never had. Worry settled in my stomach knowing I had been here and I would no longer be if anything happened to him. I hugged him back, despite my better judgment and the four pairs of eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t forget about me, violet. Nor dear Razvan.’ He told me after letting me go. I nodded before calling back to my two companions. Stark came down, slowly walked to the front door. Bucky at his heels. They both turned. Bucky’s face had some sort of emotion I couldn't decipher. I thought I could, but I doubt he would feel happy about finding someone genuine to spend my days with.

Stark, on the other hand, looked at Andrei as if he had grown an extra head.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be dying at her touch or something? Are you sure she didn’t threaten you to act this way?” The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely confused. The skepticism in his voice hurt my feelings but the mere fact it was stark made me forget quickly. He was an insensitive prick with a personal vendetta.

“Take this fool away before I turn him into a human pastry,” Andrei commented. I walked towards them, chuckling. “Ai grijă, violet aprins.” Take care, fiery violet. The elder said before we shut the door behind us. my heart swelled at his words. I knew I would long for those quiet evenings where it would rain and we would sit down in the living room with a book, quietly enjoying our presence. We laughed and made new and invented pastries in the kitchen for days, always looking for new and innovative flavors. I would miss the man that had treated me like his daughter.

“Take care, Pop.” I whispered to myself. Not thinking a long-haired blue-eyed soldier would hear.

And just like that, we disappeared quietly into the night and I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

James let me know they came in the Quinjet, that enormous thing I had refused to sit on two years ago. the walk was not far from where we were and we found it in a while.

The Quinjet was hidden behind one of the buildings next to the bakery. the gigantic thing sleeping while we arrived to climb up. clint stood outside, his arms crossed. that man always looked like he was in a power pose.

“Romania? What is it with chased people and Romania?” Confusion and genuine interest were written all over his face.

Barton had always been a friend before I knew the truth. Nat told me she had told him in a drunken stupor. he tried to talk to her about telling me but she didn’t listen. I didn’t hold it against him because I knew he wasn’t actively participating but he didn’t do anything either.

I shrugged. “It’s a good hiding place. too many criminals organizations for you to matter. nobody cares who the hell you are as long as you keep quiet.”

“Good shadow place.” Bucky added as he tried to help me get in the Quinjet. I ignored his hand, focusing on Clint’s face.

“Exactly.” My response was clipped. if he was fishing for a normal conversation he was in for a treat.

After a while, we took off. My legs became restless as I sat in front of Stark and Bucky while Clint piloted the flying thing. boredom pushed me to get up from my seat and walk towards the front of the Quinjet. that, and Straks glare along with the awkwardness of Bucky’s movements.

Clint’s focused face came into view as I sat beside him. silence engulfed the both of us before he broke the silence with some words I didn’t expect.

“We missed you.” it was a quiet remark but full of shocking force. I just sat there, wide-eyed looking towards the already clearing sky. I looked towards him and forced myself to respond. a scoff came out of me, causing Clint to look rapidly towards me.

“You have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. Nat was pretty shaken up when you left. we looked for you everywhere and decided you didn’t want to be found. that you needed some time. it took you longer than we thought.”

“You didn’t find me because you didn’t look. You don’t have to lie to me, Barton.” I said, masking the hurt I felt with anger. why keep lying to me? I knew they didn’t care sop they didn’t need to act as they did.

“What? we did loo-” He never finished his sentence since Stark’s voice boomed around the small space. he came to let us know where would land soon as if we didn’t know already. Clint was the pilot, it was impossible for us to not know. suspicion arose in my chest but I soon forgot it when I saw the massive compound below us.

✹✹✹ I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t fluttering and my hands trembled slightly. I subtly rubbed my hands in my jeans, hoping to get some moisture away. But, there was something else bothering me. It had been there for a little while. The emptiness in my chest divided in two, as though… I don’t even know. The doors slid with a swift sound and my heart rate hit new floors.

I tried to avoid showing any emotion I felt. Seeing them surrounding the long table, all in their daily clothing made it hard to remember. I couldn’t show the happiness of seeing them all right after two years. Nor could I show the excitement deep in my bones seeing Wanda’s face. I couldn’t forget the damage (situation) those high-held beings made to my heart.

I looked at them with a mask of indifference firmly placed.

Wanda was the first to step forwards, as I knew she would. I didn’t expect her to but a part of me screamed how she had been the only real friend through the year I spent in this cage. I resisted the urge to hug her, touch her, and receive the reassurance I so deeply wanted.

“I thought- we thought you were dead.” The revelation shocked me. It felt as though they couldn’t believe I was alive. But I was. The question was… why did they think so?

“Nop. Still kicking.” I replied.

“Unfortunately.” I heard Stark mutter under his breath. I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to kick him. I could make him feel a true kick in his brain. And his ass, too.

“Y/n!” A high-pitched voice came from the corner next to me. The smiley face of Pepper Potts came rushing towards me, engulfing me in a hug. My nerve endings shot and I prayed my instinctive responses wouldn’t go through. Fortunately for me, they didn’t. Before I could even think to hold her back—which I wouldn’t have done anyway— she stepped back. Smile intact and a gleam in her eyes capable of illuminating the whole room.

“Jesus. You’ve changed so much!” Her hands settled on my shoulder, holding softly and slightly shaking my shocked frame. “I missed you.” Her vice took a sweet edge and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes scrutinized me with the look of a mother who had just seen her child after a hard year abroad. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably out of her grasp. I wasn’t used to this.

“Honey, leave the feral alien alone.” Tony’s voice reached my ears. “We have important matters to discuss.”

“God, Tony. Give us a break. We haven’t seen the kid in two years.” Natasha’s ______ filled the room as I saw her taking steps towards me. I noticed there were no relaxed steps but tense and wary. Her eyes held a sort of apology mixed with caution.

I just stared. Deep inside I didn’t know how to react to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who betrayed me gets closer. Her body language told me she was sorry but still cautious of my reaction but I didn’t know if I should forgive her. Her right hand stretched towards my frame. I shifted uncomfortably in place, moving slightly away from her.

I saw her eyes roam my body, noticing the discomfort. She came to a halt three feet away from me. Her lips were pursed as she let her head drop for a second. She recovered quickly, extending her same hand towards me, this time to shake my hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

I took her hand in mine, shaking firmly. I nodded my head towards her. My lips pursed. The movement of Wanda’s body caught my eye. She stepped closer to me, her hands nervously trembling beside her big, red jumper.

“Can I hug you?” Hearing those words coming out of her froze the ongoing flow of blood through my veins. I was shocked, to say the least. I bet I looked like a gaping fish as an incomprehensible string of detached words escaped my lips. Everyone else seemed as surprised as I was. For completely different reasons I would bet. As Stark had said, they thought I was a free being.

She waited patiently, probably aware of the shock and ongoing battle I had inside me. She was the only one aware of my thoughts about showing anything besides contempt. And she knew why. But I sent it all to hell and for once, I did what I wanted to do. I nodded.

Her smile was worth enough as she moved quickly towards me, as though worried I would change my opinion. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck, my lack of height apparent as my 5’1 ass reached her shoulders. I resisted the urge to cry as I wrapped my arms around her back, relishing in a familiar face that didn’t hate my only existence.

“I missed you.” It was a whisper, only for me to hear. A small smile escaped my lips as hope blossomed in my chest. Hope that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Hope that maybe someday I could have a family.

“I did too, Red.” I murmured back. Careful to not raise my voice as I didn’t want anyone to know anything. I felt oddly vulnerable to be hugging someone let alone hugging someone in front of seven people. I noticed Vision staring and I gave him a subtle nod, a small smile creeping upon my lips. He nodded back with that usual blank expression not in compass with the feelings he harbored. After some time, I let her go before Stark had another remark to make.

I noticed Steve leaning against a far-away table, maybe ten feet away from where I was. His head lowered, eyes on the ground. His arms surrounded his build, hugging himself with a heavy frown on his face. He didn’t want to look towards me and I thought I knew why. He was ashamed of what he did. He was guilty anyway you looked at it. He was guided by Bucky to do everything. He followed the man despite knowing it was wrong. Not because your friend tells you to throw yourself out the window means you’ll do it. He knew full well what was wrong and right. He knew Barnes' proposal was as low as a man could get.

If he didn’t apologize and acknowledge what he did, he was dead to me. I mean, he had tried to apologize that day, but I was devastated and no words came through my anger.

There were a few handshakes and subtle nods here and there before I noticed a presence missing. I looked around for the usual big man with an overinflated sense of heroism but didn’t find him. He was big enough for anyone to spot him. I felt a pang in my chest and a tingle at the back of my head and I knew something was wrong. The air shifted and my hands started trembling slightly.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, my voice slightly shaky. I tried to compose myself, knowing he had to be alright or I would’ve felt something.

“We don’t know. We couldn’t get a hold of him.” Natasha replied. I noticed the subtle worry etched in her face lines.

Suddenly, I understood that emptiness inside me. That swirling emotion unlatched to an earthy body. One of the connectors inside of me, besides bucky’s, was empty. It didn’t have any energy to connect to.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t realize I began hyperventilating while the word repeated itself over and over in my head. My chest rose and fell quickly while the air got caught in my throat. My hand shot out to grasp anything in reach I could hold myself up with.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?” Wanda was the first to step forward and grab my elbow. Her soft touch didn't completely register in my sensory sense. The only thing in my mind was the heavy colorless fog swirling around in my insides.

The worst part was, I didn’t know which of my brothers it belonged to. I thought about them and how long it had been since I had seen them. Since I had been with them.

“Can you all excuse me?” I pulled myself together and without waiting for a response, I hurried across the room. I thought about the me that they just saw but somewhere deep down, I didn’t care.

I hurried, passing Steve's body. This time, he looked intently at me. I didn’t expect him to stand up and grab my shoulders. By this point, my vision was blurry and I tried hard to reconnect with the missing life essence.

“Y/n, I-”

“Can we do this later, Rogers?” I spat, cutting him off before getting my elbow out of his grasp. I left, shuddering and feeling a wave of anger rising in my chest.

What a good way to make a comeback.

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[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 35

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: fluff

A/N: i wanted to wait until tomorrow to post this but i have no self control. as promised, here’s some fluff. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

     - We’re getting married. - she smiled at him, one of those sunny smiles that always made him feel like he was way too lucky to be marrying someone like her. Bucky leaned his forehead against hers, his hand caressing her the side of her waist as that sunny smile morphed into playful one. - You do have to leave this bedroom to get married though. 

     - But the bedroom is an important part of our marriage, princess.

     - No. You shouldn’t be even seeing me on our wedding day. It’s bad luck, besides Steve, Sam and Sharon are outside. - she played with the hair in the back of his neck. 

The super soldier playfully rolled his eyes at her answer. He hadn’t even had time to buy her an engagement ring or even tell anyone other than her parents and Steve, yet he guessed Sam and Sharon now knew it too, and yet the two of them were going to get married. Her family wasn’t here and it definitely wasn’t what he thought it’d be when he was younger. He’d pictured a much more traditional wedding, maybe somehow in the middle of war and he’d marry in his uniform with his family and hers surrounding them in a small little church yet, she was right. There weren’t a lot of things that were normal about them but she loved him and he loved her. That was the basis of marriage after all. 

His finger traced her jaw, feeling her features under the calloused texture of his fingers, the same features he hadn’t seen in two weeks and had barely seen yesterday. He examined everything, almost if he wasn’t going to see her again, yet that was mostly his mind screaming at him about the restraining order they could order. His eyes, however landed on almost fresh bruises at her lower neck. 

    - Princess, what this? - his fingers slightly lingered over her bruises. 

    - Oh ... - her gaze moved down before it moved up. - Stunt gone wrong while filming, it’s nothing major really.

    - Seems like something major, princess. It’s looks pretty bad. Did no one do anything?

   - It looks just like your bruise does. - she kissed his cheekbone. - Let’s go before Steve, Sam and Sharon resort to hearing behind the door.

He sighed, knowing she wouldn’t really say anything more about it so he dropped it, for now. The two of them left the bedroom and walked into the living area where Steve, Sam and Sharon were still sat in. 

   - So ... - Bucky started. - How do we do this? 

   - A wedding? - Sharon questioned. - We get an officiant, a marriage license, and make sure no one but us know about it. 

   - Oh Chuck has to know about it. He’s my only friend here and I’d like him to be present. 

   - Okay but we can’t do it here. - Steve added. - It’s most likely under surveillance and if they even dream you two are getting married, Bucky’s going right back to prison.

   - What do you suggest? - Y/N cocked her head to the side.

   - Me and Buck will get rings, Sam will get the marriage certificate and the officiant and Sharon will stay here with you. We’ll all meet at the HQ in an hour. 

   - You’ll be okay? - Bucky mumbled over to Y/N who nodded. - I’ll see you in an hour, okay?

   - I’ll be the one in white. Or at least something white. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head before leaving with Steve and Sam leaving her with Sharon. Of course like most girls she had pictured the eve of her wedding, even the hours before, what it would be like, who would be by her side, where it’d be. She had to admit it was very different from what she had envisioned but it was okay. Better have an odd wedding with the right person than the best wedding with the wrong one and she knew Bucky was the one. She felt it whenever he looked at her or whenever he’d fall asleep on her shoulder after telling her he wouldn’t. Her parents were right and so were the movies, when you know you know. 

She knew. 

    - I have to message Chuck. Maybe he can pass by my apartment and grab me something white. - she took her phone from her pocket to text Chuck.

    - Something new, something blue, something old, something borrowed. Luckily for you, I have your something new. 

Y/N furrowed her brows at Sharon as the blonde spy made her way inside her shared bedroom with Bucky. Y/N watching with confusion as she opened the small closet which was still a mess with packed boxes from both Bucky and Y/N which both of them kept putting off unpacking. Sharon moved some boxes and small trinkets off her way and pulled out a white big short rectangular box before putting it on top of the still yet to be made bed. 

The actress approached the edge of the bed as Sharon pulled the lid off and removed some packing paper from the top of whatever was laying inside. She quickly recognised what was inside of it, somehow through her prosecco influenced mind that night she could still remember what her favourite dress looked like. Her eyes looked up to Sharon’s before looking again at the dress, taking it from the box and holding it in front off her. 

     - When did you get this? No ... scratch that, when did you hide it in my flat?

     - Same night we got it. I’m prone to shop lifting when drunk. Besides there’s more than 5 thousand dresses in that shop, she won’t know. - Sharon shrugged, a proud smile on her lips. - You’re not gonna get married in a used white dress. You’re already not gonna have a big ceremony so you should at least have a wedding dress.

     - What if I get arrested? It’s illegal. 

     - It’s the least illegal thing I’ve done, besides, she won’t know and we can return it in the end if it makes you feel better.

     - It’s so pretty. - Y/N held the dress against her chest, almost hugging the fabric. - You’ll be my maid of honour right? I don’t have a lot of female friends here yet. 

     - Sure. Now, we have an hour to do preparation and hen’s night all together.

     - It’ll be okay, right? With Bucky ... they won’t hurt him because of me, right?

     - Don’t concern yourself with that now. It’s your day, no matter how little it is. Whatever comes after that, me, Steve, Sam will be there for you two. You’re family. 

     - I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. - Y/N dragged whatever tears were trying to spill out of her eyes with her knuckles. - I don’t want to be the reason he’s not free and he keeps telling me it’s fine but ... I love him so much and it broke my heart to see him handcuffed because of me when he’s been always there. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon patted the side of the bed next to her, waiting for Y/N to sit by her side. - No relationship is easy. I mean maybe most relationships don’t have the downsides yours has but you have something that only a small part of them have.

     - A huge age gap?

     - Hey, I have that too. - Sharon laughed before rolling her eyes. - Unconditional love. Trust me, it’s not easy for someone who is not in my “line of work” to understand what happened to Bucky and he isn’t one to open up easily. And you just love him and he just loves you. That’s all it matters at the end, that you love each other hard enough you will hold each other’s hands through the worse of storms. Not everyone has a hand to hold in their darkest moments and when you do, and when you know, those monsters become folklore. 

   - Wow, Sharon. If super heroing does not pan out for you, you should become a poet. - Y/N leaned her head against Sharon’s shoulder. - Well, if they don’t handcuff my fiance during the wedding, I don’t think it can get any worse. 

   - Good. Now hop onto the shower and only come up when you smell like a baked good. Exfoliate everything. 

   - Wait, what about something blue? I have something old ... and something new and ... somehow borrowed. What about something blue? 

   - You have Bucky. 

   - I have to be in something blue. 

   - Well, Bucky will be in you later tonight, I’m sure. Just get in the shower, Y/N. The clock is ticking. 

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror, old army suit on and somehow still fitting even with the metal arm. To be honest, Bucky was more surprised that a more than 70 year old suit hadn’t been made into a ball of threads and dust yet there it was looking exactly as it did when he first got it. He straightened his back and the lapels of his jacket, looking up only to return to a slouched position as the light hit the metal of his arm. James Buchanan Barnes was not the same man he was 70 years ago yet he was doing the thing which was expected of him back in his day. Now ... now she just had to show up and he hoped she did. All he wanted right now was to see her walk whatever path she was gonna walk, as long as she met him at the end. 

He straightened the lapels of his jacket once again, trying to appear as confident as he used to be back then. His rushing mindset was interrupted by a knock on his door.

   - Steve, not again. I’m still here and I’m fine. - he barked at the door.  

   - It’s not Steve. - his sister opened the door. 

   - Becca? - he abandoned the mirror to go to his sister. - What are you doing here? Is everything all right?

   - I would’ve preferred you telling me you were engaged and getting married today rather than one of your bride’s friends, I think his name is Chuck. - she crossed her arms, that childhood smile that she still remained making her way across her lips. - You think I’d let my big brother marry without me to see it? It took a long time but here we are. 

   - Yeah, getting married in the Avengers’ HQ. How romantic. 

   - Mum would be so happy. - she started to straighten up his tie. - She always said she wanted you to marry a nice girl and seems like you found one. Although, I was expecting you’d propose to her with mum’s ring. I guess you could give it to her for her birthday or something.

   - She doesn’t even have a ring. - he sat down on his old bed. - I feel like she might not even show up.

   - I’m sure that if she didn’t run away when she saw your baby photos, she won’t run away now. 

   - Bucky, five minutes. - Steve poked his head into his old bedroom. - Let’s make a move before the bride is there before you are.

Steve and Sam had decided it would be best to hold the wedding in the inner private garden where no one but the Avengers or people with an access pass could come into. No media, no police, nothing. Bucky did remember that garden, the one with the cherry blossom tree which was somehow always on bloom. Genetically engineered, Bruce had told him, whatever that meant. All he knew was that it was pretty, it was pretty enough for her to get married in with the flowers standing over where whom he guessed was the officiant and the petals which would fall with the wind, laying on the ground.

  - Dude, you’re not taking the photos. 

  - Sam, I am the best man, it is my duty.

  - You can barely use a phone. - Sam retorted. - Remember the last photos from yours and Sharon’s vacation?

  - C’mon Sam, we all loved to see Steve’s thumb in all of them. 

  - Fine, I guess I’ll just stay here and do nothing. - Steve stood by Bucky’s right next to Sam and his sister.

Time went slowly even when Sam told him Sharon was already in the building. Despite that, his mind still told him she wasn’t going to come. No one in their right state of mind would marry a super soldier, much less him. Definitely not him, he did not deserve this. He did not deserve this. Yet, she stood there at the end of the makeshift aisle with Sharon and Chuck by her side. 

He’d definitely heard many stories from many men and women about how they felt when they first say their loved ones on their wedding date but he never thought about how it would felt. It felt as if he could only see her, everything was blurred and blacked out and all he could see was her approaching him with a wedding gown and veil holding a few white flowers tied together with a white string. He definitely did not deserve her yet there she was. She was there and she took his hand standing by his side, looking more radiant, more beautiful, more ... god words failed, yet all he could say was he felt like he was floating. He was sure in that moment he had to be standing next to an angel. 

Y/N handed her flowers to Sharon before turning with Bucky to stare at the officiant. 

    - Welcome, friends, family and loved ones. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people in marriage. You have come here to share in this commitment they are making to one another and allow James and Y/N to start their married life surrounded by those who care and love them. Marriage is perhaps one of life’s great adventures, one where you chose someone who will see it through with you to the end and support you during your darkest and brightest times. A wedding ceremony is not what makes a marriage but merely a celebration of the choice you have made to support and love each other. This is merely the start of the life you two will carve together. Will you James take this woman to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honour, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?

   - Absolutely. - he turned to look at her, holding her hands in his, 

   - Will you Y/N take this man to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honour, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?

   - Absolutely. - she giggled a bit. 

   - I have been told the bride and groom have chosen to say their vows in private so we will skip to the rings. Rings are nothing of importance and have no importance unless you give them value. Your wedding rings are a reminder and will be a reminder of the choice you made here today, a choice which is never ending. That’s why the ring is a circle, it’s never ending. - Steve handed Bucky one of the rings they had picked up in a rush from the jewellery shop downtown and Y/N the other one. - James, please place the ring on Y/N’s left hand and repeat after me. As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed.

   - As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed. - he slide the ring on her finger, thanking heaven he’d gotten the right size. 

   - Y/N, please place the ring on James’ left hand and repeat after me. As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed.

   - As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed. - she slide the ring onto his finger. 

   - And now by the power vested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor and delight to declare you married. You may now kiss the bride. 

Y/N gave him a little smile, nose scrunching as it did whenever she smiled out of shyness before he pulled her in for a kiss. It wasn’t long, it was a short and sweet. He knew the two of them had little time and would have to be back in the flat the sooner as possible but it was still a kiss. Their first kiss as a married couple. The two broke the kiss as the clapping became just too loud to ignore and she merely leaned her head against his shoulder, holding his hand in hers as the people around them clapped. 

   - Good, back on the road. - Steve said taking the lead to exit the garden to which everyone followed, with Bucky and Y/N behind them.

   - You look beautiful. - he mumbled to her, kissing her cheek as Sharon and Steve lead them to the back of the HQ where a white van was parked. - Where did Sharon get a van?

   - She stole the van. 

   - I didn’t steal it, Y/N. I borrowed it. I will park it back where it was. - she said as she entered the drivers seat, Steve opening the back for Y/N and Bucky to get in so no one would see them. 

The two of them just sat in the back of the van in silence. Her head leaned against his shoulder during the whole trip as he merely basked in the fact that he was married. Not only married, but married to her, to the woman whose head was now leaning against his shoulder. She’d chosen him, she’d come. 

Sharon parked behind his apartment, bringing the van to a stop as Steve hopped off to open the door to the apartment complex and Sharon opened the back of the van. Bucky was the first one off, reaching out for Y/N’s hand to help her out. 

   - Have fun. - Sharon winked at Y/N. - And I am keeping your bouquet. Maybe someone will take a hint.

   - Congratulations, Buck. Y/N, you look beautiful, congratulations on dealing with him for a very long time. - Steve added. - I don’t know how long, but expect a few more hundred years.

   - I am okay with that. - she smiled at Steve. - Thank you for helping out.

   - We will see you in court.

   - See you in court. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head as the two of them walked inside the apartment, hand firmly clutching hers as the two of them walked up the stairs with her in a rather voluminous dress. She just looked so beautiful to him, he was love drunk on merely her voice but looking at her just made it all even more intense. Catching her little side looks, a small giggles she’d let out whenever he’d kiss her cheek or lips mid climbing the stairs up to the floor where his flat was. It was a tiring day and right them both of them just wanted to be with each other and celebrate witch each other.

As they stood in front of his flat’s entry door, Bucky picked her up bridal style as if they were in some cheesy sitcom, yet it was tradition. 

   - Bucky, what are you doing? - she giggled at him, her hand holding her veil against her head so it wouldn’t fall down.

   - I have to carry my bride over the threshold, that’s just how it works. - Bucky opened the door to his flat and entered the place the two of them already called home with his wife in his arms. He helped her back on her feet before closing the door. Finally, it was just the two of them. - You look so beautiful, princess. 

   - You’re making me flush, Buck. - she turned her head to her own shoulder, her shyness looking absolutely endearing to him. Yet, everything she did was endearing to him. 

   - It always looks really sweet, princess. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head and walked up to the old vinyl player he’d gotten as a gift from Steve a few years ago which laid on top of a mahogany dresser leaning against the wall of the biggest window on the living room. He fished through a basket of old records, placing one on the vinyl player before walking up to his wife who had a curious look in her sparkling eyes.

   - What are you doing, Bucky?

   - I’m not doing anything. - he took her hand in his, softly and carefully pulling her towards him. - I want to dance with my wife.

She leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heart softly beating against his ribcage. Everything was so peaceful and despite all that was lying in front off them, they were just focused on each other and the music which softly played in the background. Nothing really mattered in that moment, it was just the two of them, his head buried in her neck and her head against his chest, softly lulling to side, one hand on her small back while the other one held her hand. Fingers intertwined, new shiny copper coloured thin bands on their fourth finger of their left hands. 

Wise man say only fools rush in but I can’t help falling in love with you. Shall I stay would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you ...

    -  Bucky ... - she rose her head slightly up, not to disturb him. He moved his head to stare at her, bright blue eyes filled with calm seas. - I love you.

    - I know, princess. - he smiled, softly and slowly twirling her, before bringing her back to being flushed against his chest.

    - No, I don’t just love James Buchanan Barnes. I love all of you. - her free hand rested upon his chest, right over his heart. - I love what you’ve been, what you are and what you’ll be. I love you during your best times and during your worse times. I know you think you’re crazy and damaged but I don’t think you are. If I had gone through half you what’ve gone through, I wouldn’t be a good person after but you ... you decided to help other people, you’re kind, you’re warm. You have a golden heart, James Barnes, and I will always love it. No matter what happens. 

Bucky was taken aback by those words, almost as if he wasn’t expecting to hear them. Everything came back into flashbacks, a kaleidoscope of memories from seeing Steve in the train as he fell down, killing the Starks, almost killing Steve, the Zemo events and then it was just her. Seeing her for the first time in the preppy skirt and shirt, the little charming smile she had given him when she had interviewed him, hearing her sing for the first time, kissing her for the first time to seeing her walk down the aisle up to him just a few hours ago and he knew. Bucky knew he’d do it all over again, he’d go through all the pain, through all of what HYDRA did, through all of it as long as she’d be there at the end in her little cupcake shaped white wedding gown and shy smile. He’d do it over again. 

He’d do it over again for her. For her touch, for her embrace, for her smile and laughter. 

So take my hand, take my whole life too for I can’t help falling in love with you. Oh, I can’t help falling in love with you.

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[gnocchighoul]

Operation Hot Potato

Summary: 

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

(You bring home a kitten and try to hide her from Lucifer. Unfortunately for you, nothing gets past the House of Lamentation’s resident pet-hater.)

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Portal

You found a kitten.

Well—kind of. It’s debatable.

You think it’s a kitten. She certainly looks like one—fluffy little thing with snow-white fur, blue eyes, a poofy little triangular head, and the most perfectly pink toe beans you’ve ever had the pleasure of squishing. 

The reason why you’re so hesitant to call her a kitten? 

She breathes fire. Hiccups fireballs. Sneezes flaming hot streams of… well, flames.

You learned that firsthand ten minutes ago, when you nearly got your eyebrows singed off by a particularly dangerous sneeze. All you wanted to do was give her a smooch on her wittle pink nose, you weren’t expecting to get blasted in the face with an orangey-red inferno.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter if she’s a little strange. You’ve sworn your everlasting love to your newfound daughter—your secret daughter that the demon brothers can absolutely not know about under any circumstances whatsoever, because you just know that Lucifer will make you put her back in the wild where you found her.

Your fire-sneezing, bouncing baby girl wouldn’t last another day out in the harsh wilderness (aka the dumpster that you retrieved her from). In the forty-seven minutes that you’ve had her, she’s grown accustomed to belly scratches, sleeping in your bed, and gnawing on only the finest tortilla chips in the Devildom. 

Her name is Tater Tot.

She sticks out like a sore white thumb among your colorful assortment of pillows. Not that she cares. She’s living it up in the lap of luxury. Tater Tot stretches—turns around with every paw in the air, proudly showing off her rotund little baby belly, and mrrps at you.

Its the cutest thing you've ever fucking seen. You just wanna SQUEEZE her. Ugh, who would've guessed that a little trash fire baby would steal your heart so quickly?

And it’s not like you broke the rules and brought home a pet on purpose. Tater Tot had chosen you. By choosing to rummage around in that specific dumpster that you just so happened to walk past on your way home from RAD, Tater Tot had effectively decided that you were to be her new caretaker. 

It’s fate. Kismet. You’ve wanted a pet for so long—dog, cat, dragon, gremlin, doesn’t matter. You’ve spent hours upon hours bitching and moaning to anyone that’ll listen about how badly you’ve wanted a pet to smother with your love. Nobody has been able to escape your woe. Everyone—the brothers, the angels, Solomon, and even your good buddy Diavolo (somehow, Barbatos has managed to evade you) have all been forced to listen to your lamenting about the pet-shaped hole in your heart. 

But finally—finally—your prayers have been answered.

With a fire breathing kitten. 

Oh yeah. Kismet.

You’re fairly certain that Tater Tot has never lived in a house. She had been perfectly content to snuggle up in your school uniform like some kind of tiny, pouch dwelling, heat seeking creature, until you had snuck into your bedroom and closed the door behind you. 

The second you set her on the floor, it was like a switch flipped. Tater Tot had shown off her unnatural strength by flinging her little puffball body around the room like a possessed tumbleweed, spastically crashing around the room and knocking over furniture and keepsakes alike.

You had finally cornered her under your bed and sat peacefully nearby, humming quietly to calm her. It didn’t take long for you to coax her out with snacks—she liked the chips, but passionately disliked the gummy worms—and within twenty minutes you had Tater Tot lounging with you on the bed, rubbing her soft little cheeks into your palm for rubs and scritches. 

You need to come up with a plan to hide your beloved child ASAP. It’s only a matter of time until either Lucifer hauls you off to his room or one of the brothers decides to camp out in yours for the night, and if word gets back to Lucifer that you’re harboring a fugitive animal… Well, favoritism or not, it won’t end pretty.

Though perhaps there is one person who can help you with this little secret.

Satan. The cat-loving fourth brother. 

Man oh man, he’s going to be thrilled with sweet little Tater Tot. You have to be careful though—you reckon that there is a 96% chance that he’ll try to steal her away from you. Trying to juggle custody battles and harboring your secret daughter from Lucifer all at the same time sounds like such a pain.

But… That would still be better than having to put Tater Tot back on the streets.

With the threat of big-meanie-Lucifer looming over you like a particularly gothic and pet-hating phantom, you come to a final decision. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and accept the soul crushing truth of the situation.

Satan is your only hope. 

But how are you going to sneak your daughter all the way over to his room?

You look around your own room for something, anything that can hide your beloved dumpster pet and—ohohoho.

 ~

“Darling?” 

You freeze midstep.

Busted.

“What’s up, Lucifer?” You try so hard to keep your voice calm and normal. So hard. 

Judging by the way Lucifer looks at you, you’ve failed. And you were so close. Satan’s bedroom is literally right there! Only a few yards away! If only you’d just had ten more seconds to yourself in the dark hallway... Alas, the warden your beloved Lucifer aka the resident pet hater stands between you and the dusty salvation that is Satan’s library of a bedroom.

You shuffle your feet a bit nervously. Readjust your grip on the cardboard box. A bit warily, Lucifer eyes it.

“What’s in the box?”

You panic. “What box?” 

Fuck.

Lucifer cracks a smile, though it doesn’t meet his gaze. He gestures to the cardboard box that you are currently holding near to your chest like some sort of ugly, cubic liferaft. 

“Oh!” You laugh. It’s too high pitched. Suspicious. “This box? It’s just some books for Satan, it’s nothing—”

The box sneezes.

Your mouth snaps shut and you thank all the fucking stars in heaven that this sneeze didn’t flambé you.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow accusingly. Tone icy and sharp, he says, “Books? Is that so?” 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

You wilt a bit under the intensity of his gaze. “They’re… cursed books? Yeah, so cursed and dangerous and only Satan knows how to nullify the evilness of these books so I’m gonna just slip past you—”

Lucifer takes a step to the left, planting himself firmly in your path and effectively thwarting your desperate grand escape. A single blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains and slices through the shadows, Lucifer now caught in the spotlight and—oh that fucker did that on purpose. Ugh, what a drama queen.

Red eyes practically glowing in the dark, he nods menacingly at the box. “Go on then. Open it.” 

“I dunno, I really shouldn’t because of the curses and—”

Clearly not in the mood to entertain your scheming-slash-rambling, Lucifer takes matters into his own hands. Before you can twist away, one of his hands darts out to knock the lid off of the box and—

Books. It’s filled with books.

He frowns. Lifts one up and—nope, there’s just more books underneath. “...What?” 

“Happy? Now if you don’t mind I really should get—”

“Let me help you with that.”

Your reflexes aren't fast enough. Before you can leap back or Sparta kick him away, Lucifer plucks the box right out of your arms… and reveals a squirming lump beneath your sweater, right inbetween your breasts. The box hits the floor. Lucifer stares at your newly acquired mass with a very particular sort of horror that you’ve never seen before. 

You panic. Again.

“...I grew a new boob. I think the Devildom air is toxic or something, but it’s okay! The more the merrier, right? We can still—gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY TIDDIES—”

Lucifer presses one hand to your lower back, trapping you, and yanks down your zipper, revealing the purrito that is wrapped kind-of-securely to your chest with a scarf. He recoils backwards, looking equal parts horrified and peeved off.

Time for Plan B.

93% sure that you can still recover from this situation that is rapidly soaring downhill, you stuff your hands into your pockets and then throw them outwards, flinging fistfuls of rainbow confetti into the air. “Surpriiiise! You’re a daddy! Say hello to our daughter.”

“No.”

“Her name is Tater Tot. Personally, I think she takes after you.”

The Tater in question shimmies out of her silky prison and tumbles nose first into your palms. You hold her right up to Lucifer’s face, grinning like a goddamn sociopath when he takes an alarmed step backwards. Little puffball paws desperately try to swipe at his nose. Lucifer looks downright offended by the assault of pink toe beans.

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the noodle-limp kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

“As fun as that sounds, we have a perfectly good one right here!” 

“That thing is not a baby. Where did you find it?” 

There’s a concerned little scrunch in his brow that you wanna smooth over with your thumb, but when you try to close the distance between you two, he moves further out of reach. Frowning, you hug Tater Tot to your chest. She snuggles her face into the crook of your neck and purrs like the smallest biodiesel engine in all of the realms.

“I found her in a dumpster!” you say, perhaps a bit too proudly. 

Lucifer’s eyes widen. “In the city?”

“Why is that so shocking? Does the Devildom not have stray cats?” 

“That’s not a cat.” 

“Well yeah I kinda figured, what with the whole fire breathing thing and all, but—”

“It’s a chimera.” 

You stare at Lucifer. Try to gauge how serious he’s being. Tater Tot nibbles on your thumb with little needle-like teeth. 

Surely he’s joking. 

“...Like the lion-goat-lizard thing? That chimera?” 

Lucifer nods. 

Like you’re in some twisted version of the Lion King, you hold Tater Tot up in the beam of moonlight that Mr. Doom and Gloom had previously been occupying. Examine her totally normal kitten-features. The distinct lack of goat hooves. Miss Tater licks her nose. A Chimera? Her?

Surely he’s fucking with you.

But… it would explain the whole fire-breathing thing. Kind of. You’re not fully convinced he’s lying, but the truth doesn’t make much more sense.

But if she is a chimera… that’s so badass.

If Lucifer thinks for one second that Tater Tot being a nightmarish Hell creature is going to scare you into giving her up, then he is sorely mistaken. (You did choose to date him, after all. You're an expert at loving on Hellish beings.) At the end of the day, whether Tater is a chimera or a cat or whatever the hell else, you’ve already bonded with each other. She’s your baby and you are not going to let him get rid of her. 

If he gets Cerberus, then you get your funky little Tater Tot, dammit.

Lucifer watches this journey of emotions play out on your face. His eyes narrow. He says your name slowly, strained—a thinly veiled warning in his voice.

The grin that overtakes your face can only be described as evil. 

“We’re keeping her.”

“Absolutely not.” 

 ~

“You can’t be serious.” 

From the depths of your blanket fort, your hand emerges to flip Lucifer off. He scowls. 

“This blanket fort is only for Tater Tot and me.”

“Then perhaps you should relocate to your bed.” Lucifer growls.

You snuggle further into the black sheets cocooning you. With impressive speed, you had raced back to Lucifer’s room and stripped every piece of fabric from his bed in record time. From there, it was simply a matter of combining the dark sheets with a bunch of pillows and voila. You had created your very own anti-Lucifer fortress, right in the middle of his bed. 

Tater Tot army-crawls across your thigh and worms her way into the sheets, vanishing like a ninja.

"What?" You peek at Lucifer through a small opening in the fabric. “But then you would just ignore me and Tater Tot.” 

“Yes, exactly. I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

“No! We’re not on the same page at all,” you scowl. “I’m not moving until you bond with her.” 

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

“Maybe I will!”

You can’t see him right now, but you know in the depths of your heart that Lucifer is rolling his eyes at you. 

Which, y’know. Fair. You are being a little bit ridiculous. But what choice do you have? The confetti didn't work and Lucifer needs to form an everlasting bond with Tater Tot. He needs to experience how lovely and precious and wonderful your little baby is, so that he won’t make you put her back in the dumpster where you found her.

You have one last tactic. It is by far the absolute worst. 

Talking to him. Like some kind of functioning, responsible adult, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do in a healthy relationship. Blegh. 

While you agonize over stooping to this final resort, Lucifer climbs into the bed without a word and settles himself in like he owns the place. Which he does. But that’s beside the point. 

One of your arms emerges from the blanket shield to poke at his pajama clad thigh. He doesn’t react. So naturally, you poke him again. And again. And again, until finally he sighs, “What?”

You squirm your way out of the stuffy blankets, gulping down air once you're free—sweet baby Jesus, fresh air has never felt so good—and Tater Tot flies out after you, rocketing across the mattress at the speed of light and tumbling around like a little white pom pom. While she does her own thing, you worm your way into Lucifer’s side so that you’re halfway on top of his chest. He huffs and lays there like a board, refusing to hug you, so you grab his arm and wrap it around your shoulders yourself.

Here goes nothing. 

“Why are you so against having a pet?” you ask, dancing the pads of your fingers over his chest.

Lucifer cracks one eye open. “The first and last time I allowed pets in the house, Satan brought home 48 cats. In one hour.” 

...You really should have seen that one coming.

“Oh. Well, I mean… Is that reallyyy a bad thing—ow! You jerk, I was just kidding.” You pout. “You didn’t have to pinch my butt that hard.” 

Lucifer snickers and pats your butt consolingly. “Mmm, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Briefly, you consider headbutting him right in the chin. But alas, that wouldn’t solve anything, so you settle for pressing a kiss to his collarbone, then reach a hand up to play with his hair, just how he likes. It’s not very ~vengeful~ buuut it’s bound to put him in a better mood. 

You trace cutesy little heart shapes on his right pec. “You know what I want?”

Lucifer closes his eyes—lets his head fall back onto the mattress. “We’re not keeping her.” 

You snuggle into his chest with a happy little hum. “Yes we are.”

“...Just for the night. Tomorrow you're putting her back where you found her."

 ~

You wake up in agony. 

It feels like you’ve had a lung ripped out and replaced with serrated knives. Or shark teeth. Each breath drags oh so painfully at your—just kidding. 

You wake up well rested and tangled in the bedsheets, your head hanging off the side of the mattress. You’re a little hazy-brained and your skull feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but that’s probably because of all the blood rushing to your head. When you roll over and haul yourself back up onto the bed, a noise escapes you that is definitely not fit for polite company.

The murky depths of slumber threaten to take you again, so you pat around the bed with your hand, looking for your favorite demon-slash-body pillow. You pat. And keep patting. Where the hell is Lucifer?

You crack one bleary eye open, trying to find Lucifer and—

Where the hell is Tater Tot?

Your heart jolts in your chest as you realize a few things all at once.

One: Lucifer is missing. 

Two: Tater Tot is missing.

Three: You slept through breakfast, but that’s less important. 

You’re off like a shot, wrestling yourself out of the sheets and flinging them to the floor, then stumbling across the room to get to the door before your brain can even fully wake up. It’s fine, you don’t need 100% brainpower, you just need to find your baby. 

You’ve barely taken four steps into the hallway when you slam nose first into Mammon. He catches you, saving your face from becoming acquainted with the floor, and you grab him by the leathery lapels of his jacket. 

“Where’s Lucifer?!” you hiss.

Mammon desperately tries to squirm out of your feral grip. You shake him like a polaroid picture.

“Geez, knock it off would ya?! He’s in his office, what the hell is up with you? Wh—HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKIN’ TO YA!”

Whatever the Weenie has to say to you is less important than finding your child, so as soon as you acquire Lucifer’s location, you haul ass to Lucifer’s study.

 ~

In a raging fury that could rival Satan’s existence, you fling open the door, ready to tear Lucifer a new one for not even letting you say goodbye to your beloved kitten and—

And your heart melts into a warm, gooey puddle. 

Lucifer is sitting at his desk. Tater Tot is draped across his shoulders.

Lucifer glares at you, but there's no real bite in his gaze. “Keep it down, Phobos is sleeping.”

You blink stupidly, your brain racing at a thousand miles an hour to catch up with whatever the hell you’re currently feeling that has you all mushy and moon-eyed. “Phobos? What the hell? That’s not her name at all.” 

“My love, we are not naming our daughter after potatoes. Her name is now Phobos. She and I came to a mutual agreement that it is far more fitting of a name for a creature of her pedigree.”

...You’re so torn. On one hand, you want to argue that Tater Tot is a lovely name for your dumpster kitten-chimera-thing, but on the other hand… he called her ‘our daughter’. As in your guys’s daughter. This can only mean one thing, and you clutch at your heart when you realize what’s happening.

They bonded.

It damn well might bring a tear to your eyes.

You make your way over to Lucifer, shove aside the papers on his desk, and perch your happy ass right on the hardwood.

With a bone deep sigh, Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Why do you always do that? My lap is available, you know.”

Tater Tot wakes up and lifts her heavy little sleep-addled head to meep at you.

You grin—hook your ankles around the armrests of his chair and pull him closer. “So… does this mean we’re keeping Tater Tot?” 

“... Yes, we’re keeping Phobos. But that’s it, no more pets.”

“Okay, wait. Hear me out. What about a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucifer plucks another white hair from his RAD uniform and holds it up to the moonlight, scowling at the offensive thing. Why in all the realms did you have to find a white cat? The damned thing has only lived with you lot for two days and yet somehow its hair has already gotten over every article of black clothing in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating.

His gaze wanders across the courtyard to where you’re sitting pretty on Beel’s shoulders, clawing at his face with your fingertips and screaming in terror at how high up you are. He grins. 

He can put up with the shedding fur, so long as he gets to see how your eyes shine like the stars when you see Phobos.

Still though. Why couldn’t you find a black kitten? 

“Lucifer! There you are!” 

Lucifer flicks the cat hair—lets the breeze catch it and float it away. Before he can even get a proper greeting in, Diavolo is pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“You’re here a bit later than usual. How’s life with the new kitten treating you?” Diavolo asks.

Lucifer steps out of the hug and eyes Diavolo warily. “Just fine, thank yo—wait. How do you know about the cat?”

Diavolo blinks innocently. “Surely you told me about her, didn’t you?” 

No, he definitely did not—oh no. 

Lucifer stares, slack jawed and horrified, because in that moment, he realizes something that he refuses to accept.

No.

No. It can’t be.

Diavolo would never do that to him. He would ne—oh fuck, he absolutely did.

Diavolo planted the cat. He knew that you would find her in that dumpster and take her home.

Lucifer has never known a betrayal quite like this. Diavolo says something about heading off to his office, but he doesn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Diavolo.” 

The demon prince in question pauses in his escape to look back at Lucifer. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“Why did you have to pick a white cat?”

And oh, Diavolo laughs. A full belly laugh that quite honestly kills Lucifer. Just a little bit.

[taixju]

Safe Haven [2]

CONTENT WARNING: fluff, eventual smut, slow build, oc’s, ceo levi, office au, assault/harassment, unedited, 

NOTES: Part 2 of this train wreck of a series!! Levi is ending up as such a softie in this story, maybe it’s just me indulging in my own fantasies of sweetheart Levi 😫 As always, if you got this far, thanks so much for reading!

Erwin Smith. Chief of Police. He was a force to be reckoned with, you could tell that much even though you had just met him. You learned that he was a long-time acquaintance and confidant of the Ackerman family. You note that he isn’t in uniform opting for a long black coat, a plain white dress shirt and ironed black slacks.

“Miss Reader, shall we have a seat?” Erwin Smith gestures towards the couch.

You head over and Levi follows.

“Mr. Ackerman has informed me of the gravity of your situation,” he begins slowly, “If it is alright with you, I’d like to get a full account of the events that took place this morning.” He pulls out a paper pad and clicks the pen from his breast pocket.

Levi places a comforting hand on your back.

“Take your time,” he reassures you, “he’s here to help.”

You give him a small smile to show appreciation for his kind patience. Taking a deep breath, you retell your story.

After filling pages of his notepad with your statement, Erwin places it into his pocket.

“Thank you for your time Miss Reader,” Ewrin gives you a sympathetic smile, “I apologize if you had to recount unpleasant memories.”

“You can apologize by throwing that bastard in prison,” Levi replies sharply.

Erwin doesn’t smile this time and nods in agreement. Before he leaves, he speaks with Levi in hushed whispers.

You block out their voices and get lost in thought. Grace would be wondering where you were. Thinking of your best friend, you grab your phone from your purse and open up your messages with her.

‘Hi’ you text.

She replies right away.

‘Hey! Where have you been? Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah...Z tried to force himself on me this morning but Mr. Ackerman got the police involved.’

‘Mr. Ackerman?’

Of course that’s the first thing she picks up on. You internally roll your eyes.

‘Wait are you okay though?? What did that fucker do? Where are you now?’ she messages quickly after.

‘Apparently our CEO is acquainted with the Chief of Police. It’s being more than taken care of.’

You leave out the fact that you’re currently in your boss’ private office.

‘Thank God. I’ll give you a ride home today. I’d love to give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind.’

You purse your lips after reading her text and debate whether or not to tell her the truth.

‘Actually, Mr. Ackerman is adamant on taking me home. I’m upstairs. In his office.’

You bite your nail knowing this won’t end well. Grace’s speech bubble pops up and then disappears. It pops up again but disappears again. It follows this pattern for a few more times, until nothing. Huh.

“How are you feeling?” Levi’s deep voice disrupts your thoughts and you peel your eyes away from your phone. You notice Ewrin has left and it’s just the two of you again.

“I’m…” out of habit you want to say ‘okay’ but decide otherwise,“...could be better.”

His eyes soften at your honesty. Before he can speak, you hear a commotion outside. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“I don’t give a fuck what Mr. Ackerman said!” she yells from behind the door, “my friend is in there and you are not going to stop me.”

“Miss please,” a male voice from outside begs, “I am not authorized to let you in.”

“Hey! Where do you think you’re putting your hands buddy?!”

Levi eyes the door suspiciously but you chuckle. Leave it up to Grace to stir the pot. You stand from the couch and walk over to let your friend in. When you open the door, you are surprised by what you see. Your friend, her hair disheveled and her arms restrained in handcuffs.

“Reader!” She exclaims and puffs a strand of her hair out of her face. She immediately asks if you are okay. Always concerned for those around her, never herself. One of the reasons you absolutely adored the gal.

“What’s going on?” You turn to the man restraining her, “Let her go!”

The man looks at Levi, as if to ask for permission.

“You heard the lady,” Levi states bluntly.

Immediately, the man lets her go and unlocks the handcuffs. Once she’s free, she rubs her wrists where the metal once dug in.

“Son of a bitch,” she mutters but then quickly turns to you and hugs you.

“Are you okay?” She whispers. You smile and return her embrace.

“Now I am.”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard,” she pulls away.

“Get in line,” Levi says behind you.

“Mr. Ackerman!” She squeaks, “Thanks for taking care of my girl…really kind of you.” She rambles on, not failing to mention that she does in fact care what he thinks.

He throws her a steely look but says nothing.

“Who’s this?” You ask, not recognizing the man who had your best friend in restraints. He’s dressed similarly to Erwin.

“Officer Marco Bott,” the freckled man rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “Really sorry about that miss, I had orders that nobody was to enter the premises.”

“I asked Erwin for 24 hour surveillance,” Levi clarifies, “there’s no way in hell that bastard is going to get anywhere near you.”

Your eyes widen. 24 hour surveillance? That was pretty extensive

“At least someone here has their head screwed on right!” Your friend exclaims beside you, “your neighbor is a complete psycho!”

Levi says nothing but you see the approval of your friend written on his face. You were grateful for all of the support but a part of you reprimanded yourself for allowing it to get this far. It's not like you haven’t tried to report Zeke before. You always got the same response. ‘Sorry ma’am, there’s nothing we can do unless you have a witness or we catch him in the act.’ Innocent till proven guilty. You took plenty of precautions; Leaving the house earlier, ordering self-defense products, and even considered installing a camera. Somehow Zeke was always one step ahead of you. It had you feeling suspicious.

“Thanks to Mr. Ackerman, I’ll be just a few doors down,” Marco reassures.

You whip your head to look at Levi in disbelief.

“You bought an apartment?” You ask him dully.

“He moves in tomorrow.”

Grace, who is next to you, shares your disbelief.

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

“I requested 24 hour surveillance for a reason,” he rolls his eyes, “How do you expect Bott to do his job spending night after night in his shitty cop car?”

You, already accustomed to his extreme spending habits, sigh. The last few hours have been a whirlwind of events. You were tired and didn’t want to argue. You knew that nobody was going to change his mind. Not even you.

~~

The day went by slowly. After almost being arrested, Grace made sure you were okay and returned to work. You recall the conversation you two had before she left.

“So he’s taking you home?” she points towards your boss.

You nod. She grins and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

You roll her eyes and quickly dismiss what she was implying at. There was no way you’d involve yourself with Levi. There were already rumors circulating that there was an ensuing romance between the two of you. You were the first to quickly turn down those accusations. It was important to you to maintain a certain level of professionalism and besides, you wanted people to know that it was hard work that got you to where you were and not because of what was between your legs.

“He is,” you purse your lips, “but I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no.“

“But it’s Levi Ackerman,” she playfully exasperates, “you have to admit that he’s damn fine.”

When excited, Grace is not quiet. You make eye contact with Levi who’s sitting at his desk. His lips slightly turn upward before quickly regaining his neutral composure. He looks back down to his laptop screen but little does she know, he’s listening.

“He’s…tolerable,” you smile slyly and take a sip of your now cold tea. You wait, gauging his reaction.

You hear him scoff but he doesn’t say a word.

“You know,” she lowers her voice, “he can be a real asshole.”

You grin and nod in agreement. Tell me something I don’t know, you thought to yourself.

“But he dropped everything for you today.”

“Anyone would,” you brush it off. You take another stop of your tea to quench your dry mouth.

Grace rolls her eyes, clearly over your attempts to evade the conversation about Levi.

“Whatever you say, although I think you’re totally underestimating his interest in you,” she quips, “anyways I gotta head back down - I’ll give you a call once I’m finished.”

“That would be nice,” you give her a grateful smile.

“Awesome,” she gives you another hug, “I’ll see you later.”

As she walks out, she directs her attention to Levi.

“You may be our boss,” she calls out behind her, “but don’t even think of doing anything fishy mister, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Don't lump me in the same category as that piece of shit,” Levi scoffs. He returns his attention back to his laptop and for the rest of the afternoon, a comforting silence envelopes the both of you. You felt safe.

~~

On the way home, Levi stares out the window. Mr. Arlert, his personal driver, steers through traffic silently. Your stomach was in knots. You know that it was likely that Zeke was just waiting to pounce when you got home and an altercation was the last thing you wanted.

“Are you hungry,” Levi asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I didn’t eat anything today,” you admit, “I don’t have an appetite though.”

He frowns.

“Arlert,” he calls out, “I want to make a stop at the usual marketplace.”

“Yes sir.”

“Really, I’m fine,” you assure him.

“You need to eat,” he insists. Suddenly your stomach growls. You blush.

“See,” he smirks.

Mr. Arlert pulls into an empty parking space and opens the door for both you and Levi to exit. The sun was slowly setting and the street lamps were flickering on. You follow him to an upscale restaurant. Upon entering, the host greets Levi by name.

“Mr. Ackerman!” a chubby man exclaims, “So glad to have you back, the usual seating I presume?”

“Plus one,” Levi nods towards me.

The man leads us to a secluded table at the back of the restaurant. Private, you note - just how Levi liked it. You take a seat across from him and take a look at the menu.

“Order anything you want,” Levi says nonchalantly.

“I can pay,” you begin to say.

He raises a brow questioning your opposition. Both you and he know that he makes enough money to buy the entire building. When you drop it, he nods his head contently.

You bite your cheek and look back at the menu. You settle for a club sandwich and a side order of tomato basil soup. After the waitress comes by to take your order, you take a sip of your ice water and crunch on a piece of ice. Classical music plays softly throughout the establishment. The restaurant is fairly empty, with the exception of a few other diners. They look like high end folk. The candle in the middle of the table flickers, illuminating his sharp features.

“I’m sorry for today,” you’re the first to break the silence, “especially for getting you mixed up in my business.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he rests his chin in his palm, “I should apologize for not noticing it sooner.”

His gaze does not falter from yours.

“There’s no way for you to have known,” you shrug, “besides, Zeke moved in only recently.”

He makes a disgusted face at the mention of his name.

“I made it clear to Erwin that he makes sure his ass is locked up or I’d do the job myself.”

You blink rapidly, surprised at his hostility. But you agree.

“As much as I’d love to see you strangle him to death, it’s my job as your PA to keep you out of trouble,” you offer a bit of humor.

“He’s a dead man,” Levi scoffs, “he thinks he can touch you so casually? He can piss off.”

“Jealous, are we?” You tease.

You hear your boss scoff at your joke.

“I don’t like sharing,” he smirks before taking a sip of his cabernet.

Your eyes widen but before you can retort, the waitress arrives with your food. An awkward silence falls between the both of you after she leaves. Levi, unaffected by his own words, picks up his utensils and cuts into his steak.

“Eat.”

You hesitantly pick up your sandwich and take a bite out of the corner. The bread feels dry and your mind is too preoccupied to comprehend it’s taste.

“How is it?” he asks, elegantly taking another bite.

“It’s good,” you manage to answer. Jesus, what the heck did he mean? Sharing? It’s not like you belonged to him in the first place. Crazy old man.

You stare at his plate, unable to meet his gaze. You take another bite of your sandwich and chew slowly. You watch him slice a piece of steak and to your surprise, offers it to you. Now, you’re even more confused. He was feeding you? When you don’t take the bite, he grumbles.

“You were staring so intently at my plate,” he says dryly.

“I was just thinking to myself,” you shake your head, “this sandwich is great.”

Despite your explanation, he doesn’t move his hand. The piece of steaks stares right back at you.

Slowly, you open your mouth and wrap your lips around his fork. His eyes grow stormy, never leaving your lips. Your insides clench at the intimacy of the moment. The mantra you so desperately tried to recite back at the office, was long gone - out the door. The piece of meat is salty so you give it a slight suck before pulling back. After you swallow, you lick your lips for good measure. You knew what you were doing. He started it and you were going to win.

“Delicious,” you smile innocently, ignoring the dark look on his face, “want a bite of mine?”

~~

You meet Mr. Arlet at the original parking space. You find him sitting in the front, sipping coffee from a disposable cup. Upon your arrival, he opens the door for the both of you to enter. Levi let’s you slide in first and follows after you.

You mentally curse at yourself for your behavior in the restaurant. You were sure that Levi had no immoral intentions so what the hell were you thinking? Sucking on his meat like that - no pun intended. Your conscious laughs at your own joke. Were you so dick deprived that you were willing to risk it all for your boss? Maybe, a little voice whispers in the back of your head.

In no time, the car pulls up to your apartment, pulling you out of your thoughts. You tentatively peer out of the tinted window, looking for any signs of your blonde neighbor. You don’t see him. Levi doesn’t wait for your cue and exits the car. When you don’t come out of the car, he walks to your side of the door and opens it for you.

The events at the restaurant seem to have no effect on him and you internally let out a sigh of relief. He holds a hand out to help you out and you take it. When you step out you don’t let go.

You feel his arm stiffen but he says nothing and allows the intimate action. Together, you walk briskly to your apartment. You grip his hand tightly, praying that you won’t run into Zeke. With only a few steps away from your front door, you hear him call your name. Shivers immediately rush down your spine. Levi lets go of your hand and respectfully places his hand on your shoulder. He brings you slightly into the crook of his arm, shielding you from Zeke’s vision. You hear him call your name again, a bit louder this time.

“Don’t look back,” Levi says in a hushed tone, “open the door as soon as we reach your apartment.”

You nod, knowing that your face gives away your panicked thoughts. Zeke calls after you a third time and this time he starts following you. When you reach your front door, Levi blocks you so that Zeke has no way of reaching you.

He calls your name once more, out of breath.

“You’re finally home,” he grins. Hearing his voice this closely, makes you fumble with your keys.

“And who might this be?” Zeke’s eyes flash to Levi.

You just know Levi is burning holes into your neighbor with his eyes.

“What’s it to you?” Levi seethes.

“She’s my favorite gal,” Zeke chuckles, reaching to pat you on the shoulder.

Levi grabs his wrist before he can touch you. “This favorite gal, just so happens to be my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you left her alone from now on.”

Unbeknownst to you, Zeke face darkens upon hearing the news.

You are just as shocked by his answer but that doesn’t stop you from getting the door open. As soon as you hear the click, you swing it open and drag Levi inside behind you. 

Before Zeke has time to protest, you shut the door in his face and lock it. Your heart is beating a hundred miles per hour. Just seeing his face, hearing his voice was enough to trigger you.

You turn to look at Levi and you can see him fuming. You shed your coat and make your way to the kitchen. You needed a drink.

Your apartment was messy. A few dishes left in the sink and your clothes draped over furniture. As he followed you into your apartment, you knew he was taking note of your untidiness. You grab a clean glass from your dish rack and pop open a half empty bottle of cheap red wine.

“Want a glass?” you ask him.

He frowns and you take that as a no.

“Suit yourself,” you pour wine into your favorite glass, till it’s filled to the brim. Uncharacteristically, you chug the entire thing. Levi watches you in amusement.

“So,” you wipe the corners of your mouth, “boyfriend, huh?”

He scoffs.

“You should’ve seen his face, wiped the smug look right off that fucker’s face.”

You laugh.

“Thank you,” you relax, “really.”

You sigh and place your glass on the counter. It’s been one hell of a day and you were longing for a hot shower.

“It’s getting late, you should probably go,” you smile sheepishly.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone with that guy practically boning your front door,” he pulls out his phone and dials a number.

You hear the faint ringing and comb your fingers through your hair. While you wait for his phone call to end, you pour yourself a second glass and throw it down the hatch.

“Arlet, I won’t be needing a ride home - call it a night,” he hums a few yes’s before hanging up.

“Just invite yourself why don’t cha’,'' you start to slur. His forwardness doesn’t scare you. You know he’d never attempt anything...as long as you consented of course.

He chuckles as your sloppy speech.

“Looks like it’s past your bedtime.”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” feeling the effects of the alcohol, you unashamedly start to unbutton your blouse.

Levi’s eyes widen but he turns away.

“Get to the bathroom first, for god's sake.”

If he showed any interest before, he surely wasn’t showing it now. You frown, displeased with his response.

“What’s wrong?” You challenge; the liquid courage speaking for you,”don’t like what you see?”

The look from the restaurant returns but it quickly disappears as it came.

“You’re drunk,” came his dry reply.

“You’re no fun,” you pout but head over to the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you go.

Levi sighs, allowing you all the privacy that you need.

~~

The shower sobers you up a little bit but that doesn’t stop you from drinking.

“Have you always lived like this?” Levi holds up a black thong.

“Hey!” you snatch it out of his hands.

Embarrassed, you stuff it into your hamper.

“You have great taste,” he teases.

“Leave my apartment out of this,” you huff, “I didn’t ask you to stay.”

When you don’t make any move to clean up the mess around you, Levi sits on the edge of your couch with disdain clearly written on his face. You take a sip of your wine and ignore his irritated disposition. He was the one who insisted on spending the night and there was no way you were going to let him ruin your downtime. You turn on the television and flip aimlessly through channels eventually settling for the local news station.

“Local police are on the lookout for this man,” the news woman's voice echoes throughout your small apartment, “wanted for assault and is suspected to be connected to the disappearance of Krista Lenz.”

A sketch flashes up on the screen and you almost drop your glass.

“What the fuck?” you ask aloud to no one in particular. Levi looks at you in confusion.

You point towards your TV. The person on the screen is no other than the man who lives a few units down from your apartment. Zeke.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 8, Previously On

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: As they seek out Vision a Westview that doesn’t seem to want them to find him, more memories from [Y/N]’s past begin to appear. They almost seem drawn out of the dark depths of their mind by some unseen force but it’s hard to tell whether it’s friend or foe. Who is forcing [Y/N]’s memories to the forefront of their mind--Wanda or someone else?--and is it tied to the suddenly hostile Westview blocking them from finding Vision? Who is trying to keep them distracted?

Word count: 6,584

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and declining mental health. Mostly angst, tbh.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend @austynparksandpizza @sophster1881 @haileyybird​ @maceidelic​ @alexpress @angelvinella

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

You were too busy trying to calm the anxious gnawing in your stomach to notice Westview subtly changing around you. It wasn’t until a vine wrapped tightly around your ankle and made you almost trip and fall face-first into a fire hydrant that you looked around with a frown.

    The vine itself—thick, spiky, and definitely not native to the suburbs of New Jersey—had sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, which spread and opened further as other vines crept after it. After tearing the one holding you off and stepping out of its reach, you noticed the fences of houses reaching far past their yards to create maze-like paths that covered the sidewalks and street ahead of you. The houses that these fences belonged to were also warped in a way that made them look like you were viewing them through funhouse mirrors, stretching far into the sky and bending overhead in your direction like they meant to block you from leaving in that direction—or meant to block you from being seen by anyone flying overhead.

    Your eyebrows arched so far up on your forehead that you weren’t sure that they were still there. “What the fuck is going on?”

    You weren’t as concerned about the magic happening itself—if some random civilian walked by, they’d barely react at all and the maze and houses weren’t causing any actual damage, just being incredibly annoying—as you were by the fact that you couldn’t tell who was doing it. Your first thought was Wanda, naturally, but it made no sense that she’d be trying to keep you from finding Vision when she was the one who’d originally sent you to go get him; not to mention that she’s never created such a bizarre display of magic, at least intentionally. You considered yourself next, as you’ve known yourself to cause random transmutations when you get too antsy, but this wasn’t the type of power that you controlled and when you tried to reach out to interact with the energy, you received opposition instead of energy bending to your will. It was somewhat difficult to pick out because it seemed to hide away under the blanket of Wanda’s magic that reached across everything in Westview, but the aura of the twisted architecture surrounding you was dark and hostile.

    You first attempted to humor whatever magic was at play and made your way through the maze but as you did so, the fences shifted around you to extend their white picket prison. You stopped and sighed. “The end is nigh… and I am not going to spend it dealing with this shit.”

    A little voice in the back of your head told you that you could probably set fire to the whole magic mirror setup and be done with it but you ultimately decided against it; Wanda would probably find out and definitely wouldn’t be happy when she did. Instead, you placed your hands on the fence and as you did so, posts morphed into gates that you could easily pass through. You continued through the maze via this method and were surprised to feel the opposing magic back away from you after your pushback.

    “Oh, thank god,” you grumbled under your breath as you made it through the last of the maze. 

Unfortunately, you celebrated too early as the cement underneath your feet suddenly began to melt back into its liquid form. It would have been fairly easy to use your powers to reharden the cement but exhausting yourself fighting with the opposing force until the sidewalks of Westview shifted into grassy fields on its outskirts seemed like a bad idea in the long run, especially with the twins’ disappearance, Wanda dealing with Agnes’s strange behavior, Monica’s return, and the warning churn of your stomach telling you to stay alert. So, you settled for trudging along through wet cement until the magic decided to back off again.

Not so much trying to cause damage as it’s trying to mildly inconvenience me, is it? you thought.

Just as before, once the magic trying to keep you distracted was rivaled by your own, it receded and you were soon walking on the regular, hard sidewalk once more. You cleaned your pants and shoes up by turning the wet cement still clinging to them into something much more manageable—water—and continued on your way. Sorting through the mix of concern, nips of mild hunger, and the energy-seeking compass in the center of your now twisting in every which direction, you managed to eventually focus back into the feeling of Vision somewhere in the distance. It got stronger as you walked, so you began to pick up the pace.

Then your unseen opponent returned, stronger and now in the mental realm instead of the physical. At first, you thought the kickback was just Westview’s borders—the Hex, Monica had called it—trying to right the wrongs of someone within it having memories of the outside world, something you’d experienced before. However, you felt the menace rippling underneath the surface of the haze and when you tried to fight back this time, you were met with an angry strength. The fog making your head feel heavy seemed to spread through your bloodstream and take home in your bones, weighing your body down until you stood still and lame in the middle of a random neighborhood. You were a prisoner in your own body; you couldn’t move even if you wanted to, but you didn’t even know if you did because your brain was so full of dark storm clouds that you couldn’t think straight. You knew that you stared slack-jawed into space but it felt more like you were sitting in a dark room inside your skull and watching the outside world from a TV screen. As you watched on, the fog that took over your mind and body took your eyesight too.

===

===

===

The first few memories were fleeting. 

You were a few years old and holding your mother’s hand. It was much less boney and knotted than you remembered your mother’s hand being, as was the rest of her. She was younger and stronger, standing next to you in a worn nurse uniform and overcoat and staring ahead with a scowl, concealing whatever emotions she was feeling otherwise. You were in a bedroom that was only vaguely familiar to you and the two of you watched an old man that was barely more than a skeleton slept under a heap of fraying blankets. As you stared on through the wide eyes of your child self, your grandfather heaved a final breath before falling into a deep, eternal slumber.

A couple of years older, you were in the old but cozy, sunny yellow kitchen that your mom love to cook in. You sat at the dining room table, kicking your legs and picking at the splitting wood as your mother and a stranger argued in the other room. You had never heard your mother raise her voice to such an extent before but at the time, you were much more concerned about what kind of sandwich you were going to help her make for lunch. You never saw the stranger aside from a flash of [H/C] as he left and he was never seen or heard of again.

You were still in the kitchen but its appearance had changed ever so slightly. Yours did too, as you were a teenager now, and now your mother sat across from you at the table. Though she was still healthy now, her overall haggard appearance would be one that she carried on for years to come. She was telling you about her doctor’s appointment but you were only somewhat listening as you were stressed about high school drama and final assignments to be turned in before summer break. You heard words like “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s” but the meanings were lost on you in that moment.

Then you were in a nursing home. You could feel the harsh lighting, hear the TV from the lounge behind you. The smell of cleaning supplies burned your nostrils but the smell of your mother’s stale perfume soothed it. Unfortunately, nothing could soothe the ache that made your heart feel like it was going to shrivel up and die when you came to tell her that you changed your major in college so you would be better equipped to help her, only for her unable to recall having a child at all.

You were pinned against a wall in a Sokovian HYDRA base, although you didn’t know the organization that you were studying with was HYDRA at the time. Shivers of equal parts fear and exhilaration made your entire body quiver and the clipboard you’d been holding clattered to the ground. While a large group of Sokovian war protestors had to hunch together to fit in the cramped and cold holding room, Wanda seemed to take up the majority of the space just from her spot of holding you into place. Her hair was a mess and her face and clothes were dirty but her eyes were full of more life than you’d experienced during your entire time working in the base. She was angry and determined and powerful and gorgeous, and she told you that if you ever ran into her again that she’d kill you—and you were surprised with how okay you were about the idea, as long as you got to see her again. When she let you go and you apologized, she told you what she and the others were doing here; this was the catalyst that sent you investigating into HYDRA and finding out about their much more sinister nature, as well as the pain you’d helped cause.

Finally, the slide show of memories slowed and instead of being confined to your brain, you were back in your own body—or so you thought until you looked around and found yourself staring at a younger copy of yourself. Instead of Westview, you were in a HYDRA testing room, and instead of simply re-experiencing, you were quite literally watching a memory unfold around you as if you were an unwanted audience member standing around the active set of a TV show. Or a ghost, you decided, as the younger you walked through you as if you were nothing but air.

Your younger self was dressed in an all-black work uniform and lab attire, with an identification card clipped to your chest that granted you high-level clearance. You’d worked immensely hard playing HYDRA’s game to get to where you were now, which was standing in the control room with two other agents and preparing to analyze the test about to unfold on the other side of a large glass window. In the test chamber, a door slowly slid open and Wanda, unkempt and spacey, entered.

You wanted to break her out. Judging by the way your younger self tensed up—not enough to be noticed by your superiors; you’d mastered your mother’s emotional lockdown of a scowl at this point—your feelings weren’t far off from the initial experience. 

Wanda made her way farther into the room, closer to a scepter with a glowing blue stone that was being held on a pedestal. As she did so, the younger you readied their clipboard and pen to take notes and one of the two agents spoke, “For our notes, Miss Maximoff, can you please state your name and confirm your status?”

The younger copy of your current partner did as she was told. “Wanda Maximoff. Volunteer.”

“Begin experimentation,” the other agent—a doctor and one of your immediate superiors—stated.

“Doctor,” the first man said, “with respect, not one subject has survived direct contac—”

He was broken off as the doctor flicked on the intercom to speak to Wanda again. “Touch the sample.”

Wanda made her way forward but before she could do much, the stone suspended in the scepter—the mind stone, you knew now—detached itself and floated towards her. As it got closer, its glow grew brighter and bright blue magic wafted over Wanda as she stared before reaching out to touch it. While you remembered this situation thus far, what happened next was completely new to you. The mind stone shattered before Wanda’s eyes, revealing yellow golden yellow magic that poured from the remains. There was an explosion of light and within it was a flash of a shadow. From where you were standing, you couldn’t quite make out the shape.

Then the light died and Wanda collapsed, and the rest of the memory ran as you remembered. The scientist and doctor ran out to check that Wanda was still alive, while your younger self recollected themselves enough to take pictures of notes and research reports from the control desk with an old school digital camera that they’d managed to sneak in.

“Well,” a familiar, incredibly out-of-place voice sounded from behind you, “that’s a surprise. I had no idea you and [Y/N] went so far back.”

You spun around to see Agnes and a modern Wanda standing just behind you. Agnes watched your echo with mild curiosity as they carefully rifled through the control desk and gathered as much information as they could to examine at a later time. The dark energy that radiated off the woman was the same that you’d sensed earlier, hiding just underneath Wanda’s own. Being this close to the unhidden source now, the magic felt sharp and acidic and tasted like bile on the back of your tongue. The anxiety that had been gnawing at your stomach increased tenfold as your guts twisted around themselves. It had been Agnes all along.

Past you finished their investigation as they were called in to take Wanda to solitary by one of the other HYDRA agents. When they rushed out of the control room, they passed through Wanda and Agnes, confirming that the women were in a similar state of being to you.

Surprisingly, Agnes was completely unaware of current you’s presence. She walked casually over to the desk and attempted to make sense of younger you’s rummaging before making a face and shrugging.

Wanda, on the other hand, was staring directly at you. To anyone else, it could be said that she was simply looking through you who the commotion happening in the test chamber, but when you met her gaze, the slightest of jaw clenches told you otherwise. While it was Agnes—Not Agnes, a ghost of a whisper in sounded in your head—whose magic had been toying with you, it seemed that it was Wanda’s doing, at least to some extent, that brought you to watch this scene with them. 

“You know,” the ravenette said, “I really did like them for a while. They were fun to string along for entertainment, and they were a hoot at events and to run errands with. Such an awkward little thing. I could see their crush from a mile away whenever you three were around each other. I just thought they’d be the out-of-place, pining neighbor whose love was unrequited, a comedic plot device of sorts. I didn’t think you would actually return their feelings, let alone both you and your husband, you naughty dogs. I should have known sooner that something was up.”

You and me both, sister, you thought with a soundless snort.

“Oh well,” Agnes—question mark?—said with another shrug, “our friendship was fun while it lasted. Let me know if you ever get bored with them. We did often flirt a bit, [Y/N] and I.”

“What do they have to do with any of this?” Wanda asked, throwing a mild glower in the other woman’s direction.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Agnes responded with a sickly sweet smile, then walked past Wanda and out of the testing room. “Come along, dear! We’ve got much more digging to do.”

Wanda glanced at you one last time before following. After a moment, you trailed after them.

===

===

===

Past Wanda was sitting and watching sitcoms via the one amenity she had the dungeon-like room she was held in when your past self walked in.

“Wanda,” past you gasped and moved to rush to her side before freezing and throwing a glance towards a security camera in one corner of the room. The faintest blue-black light danced appeared to dance around your echo’s fingers as the lens of the camera warped and changed into a round silver disc, then the light disappeared and you watched yourself hurry to younger Wanda’s side. 

She didn’t acknowledge you until you placed a gentle hand on her back. She jumped a bit and turned her glassy-eyed, hollow-cheeked face towards you; in the same instant, the TV turned off. 

Past Wanda offered past you a wobbly smile that you returned. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a candy wrapped in colored foil that looked neon in comparison to the dull coloring of the rest of the environment.

“Hey, look, Wanda,” you tried, offering the candy to her, “I brought you something. Remember these? You told me once that they’re your favorite.”

Wanda stared blankly at your gift. After a moment, she took it and began picking at the foil.

Past you gave past Wanda another strained smile. Your furrowed brows caused deep lines to be etched into your forehead, showing no lack of concern, but you tried to stay positive. Gingerly running your hand up and down Wanda’s back, you carefully looked over as she freed the chocolate-covered candy from its wrapper. “You look good. You’re doing much better than you were when we brought you back.”

Wanda’s eyes lazily traced the pattern of the room’s stone walls as she brought her treat to her lips and carefully nibbled at it. When she found it free of tampering, she relaxed a bit and popped it into her mouth.

You watched as your past self rested their chin on her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to get you out of here, Wanda. I promise that I’m going to save you. I just… wish you’d let me help you more.”

Well, young me, you thought, you certainly broke that promise, then went off and murdered a bunch of people. Nice job.

Wanda’s past self finally fully acknowledged yours; she rested her head on top of yours and her thin fingers brushed brushed over the knuckles of one of your hands. She shook her head and mumbled, “I have to do this. For my people.”

Your echo sighed. The two of you sat like that together for a few moments longer before you separated yourself from her and headed out of the room. As you walked out of the room, the silver that blocked the security camera transformed back into a lens. Wanda looked back to the TV and blinked, and the television turned back on.

“Huh,” Agnes piped up to Wanda again, “they were just as piney here as they are in Westview then. Weird. I thought they had a reputation as a crazy psycho killer outside? Hoo boy, did you see any of the work that they did after Sokovia? I looked into it when I figured out that they weren’t just another ordinary townee. The Alchemist? Wished I’d managed to keep them on my side; I’d love to sit down and talk about all the ways they tore up those agents.”

You grimaced. You never regretted going on a HYDRA manhunt but it wasn’t exactly one of your most redeeming qualities.

Wanda frowned. “Trying to cope with all they had done while working with HYDRA was too much and they had to do it alone. I told [Y/N] I would return but then I never did. They thought it was their only solution.”

You were surprised to hear her empathize with you, let alone know about your revenge spree at all. You hadn’t realized how much it felt like a secret that you had been keeping from her until a weight was lifted off your shoulders when she talked about it.

“Still,” Agnes said nonchalantly, “turning an alive former HYDRA agent into a very much not alive scarecrow and leaving posting him up in his own field? Genius and I love the creativity. And the way they turned the guy who shot them into a bloody bag of bones? Delicious.

“But anyway,” she went on, the glee in her voice shifting to something more pensive, “little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more.”

With a wave of her hand, a dark wood door appeared in the room’s far wall. Wanda’s eyes widened slightly with recognition and she immediately walked forward and through it. Agnes trailed cheerfully after her.

You made a move to follow them but you didn’t make it before Agnes shut the door behind her. You jiggled the doorknob but the door wouldn’t budge, and then it melted back into the wall and vanished altogether. While you were relieved to be away from Agnes’s acrid magic, panic rose in the back of your throat at the idea of Wanda being alone with Agnes and you being trapped in a bizarre memory realm with no idea of how to get out. You ran your hands along the wall in hopes of finding the door’s outline once more, to no avail. You spun around to search for another route—

—and you were suddenly standing on a street in Westview. 

This wasn’t Westview as you currently knew it but Westview before Wanda had turned it into her special little safe haven. Instead of watching this memory like a movie, you were now involuntarily reliving it as a prisoner of your head again as your body and mouth move on its own accord.

You were paused mid-walk across the street and staring at a breathtakingly gleeful Vision for the very first time. He was standing out in the open without a human disguise of any kind, wearing a very attractive form-fitting turtleneck and looking over an empty plot of land. He must have felt you staring because he turned his warm, earth-shaking gaze towards you.

“Hello there!” he hollered with a friendly wave and a smile that made you wonder if one look from a stranger could make you weep over how attractive they were. He stepped from the dirt plot to the sidewalk, then made his way to the curb. He held a slightly crumpled piece of paper in one hand and you could see a red heart in its center out of the corner of your eye.

For whatever reason—maybe because of the fact that there was a very inhuman-looking man, who was causing your body to have all sorts of reactions, walking towards you—you felt compelled to walk over and meet him. 

“Excuse me,” Vision said as you got closer and pointed to the lot behind him, “I’m looking to buy this spot here. Do you live around here?”

Temporarily, while I try to look for a cure for my dumb-bitch memory disease, you thought. Instead of saying this aloud, though, you said something much more stupid. “Are you aware that you’re red?”

Vision blinked. He looked at his hands if he was in fact just now realizing this, then looked back at you with wide eyes. One hand moved to touch the golden gem embedded in his forehead, which you now connected to the mind stone on the previous memory that you had experienced—Wanda’s memory. 

“Oh, goodness,” Vision said, “yes I am. I’m sorry, I hope my appearance doesn’t make you uncomfortable. If it does, I could make a more appealing one—”

You felt yourself break into a grin and one of your hands waved itself dismissively at him. “Not sure there’s a way to make yourself any more appealing than you already are. It’s just unusual is all.”

Vision chewed on one side of his bottom lip before smiling sheepishly at you. If only you’d been able to tell when this interaction had actually happened that he was “blushing” in the only way his synzethoid body allowed over you complimenting him; you would have had a field day with making him flustered.

Then his eyes drifted slightly above your eyeline and the hand touching his forehead gem fluttered slightly to the right—his left. Without thinking of how it might come off, he said, “You’re unusual-looking yourself.”

Luckily, you weren’t too easily offended. You briefly touched the gunshot scar on your forehead with one hand, the exit wound scar on your neck with the other, before dropping them both and shrugging. “Got shot in the head once. Operation gone wrong.”

“A soldier?” 

Unfortunately, the version of you in this memory was already struggling to recall memories. Instead of telling the pretty stranger that, though, you said, “Something like that.”

Vision nodded and awkwardly fiddled with the paper in his hands. His gaze flitted around before settling on you again, “Well, I think you’re appealing too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm but you hid your embarrassment with a snicker. “Thanks.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s good then, isn’t it? That we both like each other’s looks just fine. Not… that I want you to find my visuals appealing. Not— not that that’s a bad thing to be doing so either! It’s just that—” he paused to collect himself. “I have a partner. A girlfriend of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“It hasn’t really been discussed,” he clarified, “but we are deep in the throughs of our relationship.”

“Congrats? Also yeah.”

Vision blinked. “I’m sorry?”

You pointed over your shoulder. “I live around here. In a hotel more often than a home but I’m considering getting a rental a couple houses over.”

Because if I don’t find who I’m looking for—a doctor? Scientist maybe?—I’ll be stuck here until I remember where I came from.

    You were brought out of your grumbling thoughts by the childish excitement that erupted from Vision’s shining smile and spread throughout his body until he was practically vibrating. He quickly scrambled the rest of the way over and flashed the paper he held at you, then almost immediately folded it up before you could actually see anything other than a flash of red on white. He told you how wonderful it was to be meeting someone from the neighborhood and before you open your mouth to say anything in response, a billion questions seemed to pour one after the other from his mouth. You caught a few—did you know why the plot he was looking at was open, if there was a nefarious reason behind it lacking any home already? Was the neighboorhood safe, did you like it there?—but you soon found yourself distracted by the way the gear-like patterns in his blue irises swirled faster as Vision became increasingly giddy.

    Then one word came flying out of his rambling mouth and you felt like you had been hit in the gut with a sack of bricks. You actually had to stop yourself from choking on a gasping breath and steel yourself in preparation in case he said her name again. Luckily, Vision seemed too deep in his his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you blanching from the kickback of yours.

    Wanda? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t like there weren’t any other Wandas in the world. Then again, you’d never met another Wanda since your Wanda and there was something about her name coming from his mouth that assured you that his Wanda was yours too.

    Is that why you had come to Westview? Was Wanda the one you were looking for?

    You placed a hand on Vision’s shoulder, both as a way of grounding yourself and grabbing the man’s attention. It worked and Vision’s bumbling died off as he looked at you with wide eyes.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said, and lifted his free hand to scratch at the side of his neck, “I got quite carried away there, didn’t I?”

    This past version of you wanted so desperately ask about the Wanda he spoke of, to confirm that she was the Wanda that you’d known in what seemed to be a past life at this point. You wanted to know if she was safe, happy, and if he was taking care of her in the way that she so needed after everything she had been through. When you looked at Vision, though, and the plot plans in his hand and the place of his and her future home, you bit your tongue. Something told you that it wasn’t your time to ask nor was it your right to do so. It had been so long since you’d tried to help the Sokovian woman escape a dingy HYDRA base and failed, and wherever she was now, she was probably better off without you intruding.

    You put on a mask of a friendly smile to hide the way your heart was being picked to pieces by a thousand imaginary needles and gave Vision’s shoulder an equally friendly pat. “No worries. I do have to stop you, though, have an appointment to get to. I’m really not the person to ask about future home life—like I said, usually a hotel—but if I have anything to tell you, it’s that this is a good place to settle.”

    Vision beamed. “Really?”

    You dropped your arm and stepped away from the robotic stranger to take your leave. “This place is easy to turn into a home. You’ll love it here.”

    Vision heaved a sigh a relief and he waved to you and you gave a parting nod and began walking. “Thank you! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, neighbor! Hope to see you again soon!”

    Something deep in your heart told you that you wouldn’t be seeing the British gentleman again, or maybe you were finally coming to terms with the fact that your brain would drop yoru memory of him before the day was over. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, trying to commit every detail of Vision to memory the best that you could, before heading back across the street.

    “Looking forward to it!”

===

===

===

    One minute you were walking and the next you couldn’t feel any part of your body that was below your waistline. The scene had shifted again and you now found yourself staring spacily off ahead. You were outside and you felt the familiar presence of a large facility behind you but you couldn’t place what the building was for or why you were there. In fact, try as you might, you couldn’t place much meaning to anything. Your brain was blank aside from several questions that you had no answers to.

    Why were you in a wheelchair? What had happened to your legs? Why were you outside? Why were there old people and people in scrub uniforms milling around you and talking to you in passing as if you had any idea who they were? Where was your mom? You had classes to attend and needed a ride.

    You took a sighing breath and felt a tanginess of citrus on your tongue that sent shockwaves throughout your body—or what left of it that you could feel. Your eyes shot open wide and you swung your head around, looking for the source of the taste of candied citrus, the feeling of thin fingers carefully brushing across your knuckles. There was a memory there, clawing just under the surface of thought-killing fungus that seemed to have taken over your head over… however long it had been now. You just had to remember—

    Before you could could remember, you saw her appear before your very eyes. She was walking down the street past you with only a green yard and strip of sidewalk separating the two of you. She wore a dark outfit and her hair cascaded behind her in the breeze, fluttering like flames. You couldn’t see her face well because of the distance you could feel the deep, powerful sadness radiating off her in waves; it was almost strong enough to force you into tears. Still, she walked with purpose and she held a piece of paper in her hand that she glanced at every other second. She happened to turn her head to toss a stray chunk of her back over her shoulder and for a brief moment you thought that her dark eyes met yours.

    You screamed her name and attempted to chase after her. However, in that moment, you forgot that you were paralyzed from the waist down and stuck in a wheelchair, so when you lurched forward to stand, you were quickly greeted by hard earth knocking the wind out of you. You hissed in pain but the impact didn’t stop you, nor did your lack of working legs. You shoved the wheelchair away in a fit of irritation, then began crawling your way across the public yard, following a trail of a very specific shade of red as you dragged your body along.

    You didn’t make it very far before you felt strong hands grasp your shoulders. You flailed around, prepared to fight whoever was trying to disrupt your mission, only for you stop struggling altogether when a flash of reddish hair appeared in the corner of your vision. You looked up at and stared at the only face that held solidity in your mind with eyes the size of dinner plates as she knelt next to you and helped you into a decent sitting position. Once you were settled, her hands moved from your arms to cradling your face and when you could see the heartbreak in her eyes this time, you actually did feel a few tears wet your cheeks.

    Your eyes fluttered shut as her gentle hands caressed your face, brushed away the tears that were now flowing like a waterfall. Your own hands found their way to her waist and you held on for dear life. With a wobbly voice that was barely above a whisper, you gasped her name again, “Wanda…”

    You felt the warm touch of her forehead pressing against yours, her nose ungracefully bumping against your cheek as she held you. “[Y/N]?”

    Hearing your name on her tongue sent you into a fit of sobbing laughter, though you weren’t sure why. Goosebumps erupted across your skin and you felt the stuttering of a billion bird’s wings in your stomach, pounding against your ribcage. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet you could remember a single word, so you merely fell into a bumbling chant of “My Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda…” Your eyes stayed squeezed shut for fear that if you opened them, she would no longer be there. 

    Wanda’s lips brushed against your eyelids and then your cheeks, not quite leaving kisses but a warm, tingly feeling nonetheless. A smile was there, you could feel the curve of it as her mouth traveled from your temple to your hairline, but it was one of the same sadness that you’d seen in her eyes. She mumbled against your scarred forehead, “Oh, [Y/N], what happened to you…?”

    You finally opened your eyes—luckily, she didn’t vanish into thin air once you did—and finally met her gaze again. You moved your hands to cover hers that still held your face and pressed them harder against your cheeks, as if you could imprint her fingerprints into your skin.

    After a moment of just silently basking in her presence, you sighed softly and replied, “I don’t know.”

    Pain further etched itself into the lines of Wanda’s face; you quickly reached out to smooth them out with your fingertips.

    “You don’t remember anything?”

    “Not much,” you replied. Then you smiled. “I know you. All I know for sure is you.”

    Wanda looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears herself but she swallowed her sobs instead. She adjusted her position and sat back slightly, scrubbed her hands over her eyes and looked around at your surroundings. She glanced at the paper she’d once been holding but now sat in the grass next to her before her gaze settled back on you. Sadness shifted into determination as she took your face her hands once more.

    “I’m going to get you out of here, [Y/N],” she said, “I promise I’m going to save you.”

    You went to nod but the sound of something flying overhead caught your attention, then a flash of yellow light over Wanda’s shoulder.

    A powerful jerk in your stomach seemed to control your entire body, forcing your head and body upward. Then you were standing on the sidewalk on the outskirts of a neighborhood with a maze of twisted houses and picket fences behind you. You were no longer trapped inside your own head, watching or reliving memories, but standing mid-step in the Westview that was bubbled by a Hex of modern Wanda’s own creation.

    Vision was flying through the air nearby and approaching fast.

    Your powers seemed to move one step ahead of your mind; before you finished the thought, one of the fun mirror houses was turned into a staircase that led to nowhere in the sky. As you turned and began racing up them, you waved your arms in Vision’s direction and hollered, “Hey! Toaster oven!”

    Vision was clearly on a mission home but you managed to catch his attention before he flew too far past you. He rounded back around and met you at the top of your stairs. He quickly surveyed your immediate surroundings, taking in the bizarre scenery before casting a concerned look your way. “What in the world is going on here?”

    “Uh, well,” you paused and took a glance around yourself, then rambled off, “I just spent a nondescript amount of time trapped in a mental live-action remake of my past and I’m pretty sure Agnes is not Agnes but some unpleasant, magic-y person who kidnapped our kids and now is trying to get… something, I’m not sure what, from Wanda. Also, I think she might have a crush on me and I’m pretty sure she caused the carnival set-up next to us.”

    Vision blinked. “Well, that’s… a lot.”

    You hummed your agreement and nodded. Then you held out your arms to him. “Shall we?”

    Vision eyed you from your place on a freshly mutated staircase then snorted softly as he gathered you into his arms, bridal style. “Surely there must be a way for you to travel with those powers of yours.”

    “There is,” you affirmed, “but this is probably faster and I should probably keep my strength to save our kids and your wife. Oh, by the way.”

    Vision gave you a questioning him as he prepared for flight. You wrapped your hands around his neck and brought your lips to his in an quick kiss. When you pulled away, you met his curious gaze and said, “I’m so happy to have met you.”

    Vision’s expression grew warmer and returned your kiss with a softer one of his own. He briefly nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling away.

    “I’m glad to have met you too,” he said softly. Then he shifted his gaze to look past you, towards home, and he said, “Now, let’s go get our family.”

[fyeahmeninroyalnavy]

A Letter to the Forester Estate and the Writers of Horatio Hornblower, the TV Series

This is my letter from Horatio Hornblower and the fans of Archie Kennedy to the CS Forester Estate and also the Hornblower writers who killed off Archie Kennedy and then discarded him as if he meant nothing, particularly to Horatio. You may see their relationship as platonic or not. This is nothing against Lieutenant Bush who is a lovely man and a compelling character.

So, you think I’m such a heartless bastard that I could just move on without my best friend who gave up his good name for me to spare my “now purposeless” life? A life without my sun to my moon?

He’s probably still warm as he’s taken to a pauper’s grave or worse and I’m given a fucking promotion and a ship! I just lost my dearest friend, my brother in arms, my companion to whom I could

communicate without words, and he to me. The man I silently vowed to protect from that evil bastard Simpson. The man whose face I tenderly caressed as he writhed in fits, or nightmares, who I carried through the rain, begged to live, to drink. Whose bedside I sat vigil at, watching over him, feeding him, helping him to grow stronger. Because I said it myself. “I can’t do this without you. I won’t make it.”

Never mind that my men gave me hell, most of them anyway. We weren’t going anywhere without Archie and he would not be left behind. I would not, could not fail him again.

When I had to hit my friend in the head as he fitted, agony was clearly written on my face. And my heart broke as I saw the jolly boat drifting away taking a piece of my soul along with it.

And of course there’s more. Perhaps you didn’t notice how Archie and I called one another by our Christian names. And that he inspired courage, light, and greatness in me that I never knew I had. I was just a scared, awkward, seasick little boy that first day, thrust into the bowels of a Hell I never knew existed. And there was that bright faced animated ray of sunshine cheering me on. “Jump! You’ll be allright.” Then grinning at my no doubt green hue, “Welcome to Purgatory!”

How he still had such cheer and optimism after all he had been through on that hell ship is difficult to understand. After all, he was just a boy as well, only months older than me. And he had been on that ship far longer. Only later, after getting to know just what sort of person my dear Archie was would I understand.

Because there is, “was” no one else like him on this earth. I would have been entirely unmanned and crushed to bits had I endured what he had. I will never have that sort of courage, resilience and optimism, and I’ll never love anyone again now that he’s gone.

It is all I can do merely to get through a single hour, let alone a day. My soul is in agony without him and I look forward to my own death.

End of Part One.

Part Two

Did the writers not notice how very close Archie was to me? Because the viewers damned sure did! Any chance we had to gently touch or comfort one another, we took advantage of. When I returned from the hole in El Ferrol, Archie couldn’t get to me quickly enough. He was so loving, and concerned, and even stroked my chest. If the viewers took it as we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves, then they would be right.

And my loyal Archie went back to the prison hell he had been in, not even fully recovered to show his faith in me, his respect, and his love.

Then there was the disaster that was Muzillac. I believe that’s when I realized there was no going back.

I was so proud of my new Lieutenant’s uniform. I actually began to feel worthy of my promotion. And Archie was obviously just as pleased. I saw that look in his warm blue eyes. The look of love and something more. He’d had a drink you see and as he began admiring my new uniform I realized he was flirting with me. And I flirted back!

Neither of us knew what was coming as we escorted Moncoutant and his men to Quiberon. But as always we would have one another’s back. And if one of us should falter, the other would be there for support.

As it came to pass, it was my dear still wounded Archie who held me up, indeed saved my life at the end. My brother in arms serving as acting Lieutenant in his Majesty’s Royal Navy, not truly recovered from El Ferrol or from the terrible abuse from that scab Simpson, would rise to the occasion for me. Indeed risked his very life without hesitation to save mine.

He was still bantering with me in the beginning as he always did, loving nothing more than to tease and annoy me. Knowing I wasn’t fond of horses, let alone using them as transportation, I saw the sparkle in his eye, the smirk of his lips as I struggled to mount the beast. Secretly I enjoyed the teasing and we both knew it. Anything to get that sunshine smile from him was always worth it to me.

Is it not evident to anyone with eyes and two brain cells how well the two of us understand and care for one another?

Then came the turning point. When Archie became what he was always meant to be. A hero.

After all Archie had been through so recently with being in prison and the events preceding it, he struggled with anxiety about the situation we found ourselves in. I tried to make light of things to reassure him but I don’t believe he was buying it. Still he remained with our men, doing the best he could while I was off playing the gallant hero. I‘m not sure what I was doing or why. Yes I had a crush on Mariette. Yes, I wanted information from her about our enemy. Maybe I was trying to find a ray of sunshine in a black cloud of misery; a failed mission of pain, grief, and loss of life. If not for Archie I would be among the losses.

Acting Lieutenant Archie Kennedy. The man was a true hero. He was there for his men and led them in spite of his fear and panic.

Then he came through for me in a big way. He saved my life.

Archie agonized about lighting the fuse to blow up the bridge in Muzillac. His voice had a slight break when speaking to Matthews about whether I was still alive or not. He kept delaying and hesitating, hoping I would show. Eventually Matthews offered to take on that burden, lighting the fuse himself.

When I suddenly appeared with Mariette over the hill, Archie sprung into action immediately. Holding fire of our marines and asking for protection of us both as Mariette was suddenly shot. As I fell to pieces and the fuse came closer to blowing up not just the bridge but me along with it, Archie bravely broke into a run, arriving to pull my weeping form away from Mariette and certain death. He put his arms about me, gently saying there was nothing more to be done for her, and pulling me away as we ran for our very lives, barely escaping. He provided comfort with an arm around me, empathetic looks and touches. As we made it back to the Indefatigable and I was called to brief Captain Pellew, my dearest friend looked at me and lovingly touched my arm. It will all be okay Horatio he said without words. End of Part Two

Part Three to follow

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟐𝟐

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟑𝟖𝟏

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟐𝟐:

You stirred in your sleep, cracking your eyes open and seeing the window curtains drawn back with the light peeking through. As you tried to sit up, you felt a weight on your stomach and looked down, seeing Yuki’s head resting on your body with a peaceful look. You smiled at the sight and brushed back his hair, feeling his soft locks untangle underneath your fingers as he breathed quietly. He looked very cute when he was sleeping. 

You didn’t remember much from yesterday, but you did remember holding onto something in your sleep. As you stared down at Yuki you wondered if he stayed here all night, you thought that his family would have wanted him to go home once he dropped off your homework. He was still wearing his school uniform, you could feel yourself feeling guilty for making him stay here with you without spare clothes to wear. It must have been uncomfortable sleeping in his uniform. 

You turned over your phone, seeing the clock being early in the morning. You reached out to touch your forehead, your temperature has gone down by a lot but you still felt slightly woozy. It wasn’t too bad though, you should be able to attend classes as long as you kept a certain distance from everyone. 

You pressed your lips together in a frown, Yuki must have done a lot for you to help bring your temperature down. As you continued to brush his hair you noticed that his fingers would flinch now and then, almost as if he was unconsciously responding to your touches in his sleeping form. 

“. . . Did you really have to do all of these things for me. . .” You whispered, thinking that this might be the one chance to say something that he may not be able to hear, “. . . You didn’t have to stay with me.”

There was comfort in knowing that he wasn’t directly listening to you, “. . . Even though we don’t know anything about each other. . . Is it fine for me to think that I could help you? Is that selfish of me?” Your whispers continued as you brushed his hair slowly. 

“Am I really the right person for this? Is it wrong to think that. . . I feel like I’m wanted here?” You peered over to stare at the two erasers that Aikyo had given to you with your first meeting, the clean utensils leaning against each other, “. . . Am I. . . Protecting you? Or am I just making everything worse?” 

“. . . I’m jealous. I’m. . . Really jealous,” you admitted, biting on the bottom of your lip as your eyes began to tear up, “. . . Everyone looks so happy without me. . .”

You toyed with the grey strands of his hair, his calm breathing being the only thing you heard aside from your own voice, “. . . If I wasn’t wanted. . . Why would I be now?” You felt your tears drip from your face and down to the soft sheets of your comforter, “. . . If I wasn’t born this way. . . Would everything be better?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tiny weights of your tears continuing to flow down your cheeks as you held back your sobs. Small hiccups escaped from the cracks of your lips, your chest feeling heavy and your heart aching, “. . . I don’t know what to do. . .” 

“Do you really feel that way?”

The feeling of someone’s cold fingers brushing your tears away came to you, you unconsciously leaned into their touch as you snapped your eyes open to see Yuki staring at you with a concerned expression. 

“W-Were you listening?” You held onto his wrist, keeping him there as you tried to hold back your cries. 

“Do you really think that we wouldn’t want you?” He asked, pushing away the tears from your face as your (e/c) eyes widened, “that’s not true (L/n)-san.” 

“. . . How would you know that?” You tried to turn away from his eyes but his hand kept you still. 

“You’ve always been welcomed, I’m sorry that you didn’t feel that way, but I’m being honest with you,” you sniffled as he continued, “it’s okay to be confused. You’re trying something new and it takes practice doesn’t it?” 

“I’ve been thinking. . .” Yuki started, leaning closer to you as you felt pinned down by his gaze, “. . . You are looking for something too.” 

“What do you mean. . .?” You softly asked. 

“I learned that. . . It’s hard to love yourself when all you see is the worst parts. . . So you need someone else to love you for you to see your own worth,” you watched as he smiled at you, his shining prince-like figure radiating with positivity, “I think you’re looking for that person too.” 

“Y-You’re not making any sense,” you sniffled, feeling his hand trail up to your head as he brushed your tangled strands.

“(L/n)-san, you don’t need to feel burdened.” He replied, your tears coming to a stop as you stared into his grey-blue orbs. 

“I-I’m not burdened.” You said, pushing his hand away from you but he only smiled. 

“You shouldn’t deny it.” His finger ‘booped’ the tip of your nose, “you look cuter when you’re not crying.” 

“W-Wha. . . I’m not!” 

“You are.” 

Your face began to glow a bright shade as you pulled your blanket over your head, causing Yuki to yelp as you surrounded yourself in a dark nest. You held onto the edges of the blanket tightly for dear life as you heard him chuckle. 

“G-Go to school already! You’re late aren’t you?” You felt Yuki’s hands pull at the sheets, trying to free you from your comfortable prison, “l-let go! Sohma-san let go!” You whined. 

“I could always skip out and say I got sick because of you.” He teased, pulling the sheets off of your head to expose your blushing face. 

“You’re throwing me under the bus?!”

“Yup.”

“B-But your attendance! You have committee work don’t you?!” 

“I could worry about that later.” He sneakily rolled you up into a blanket burrito, completely encaging you in the warm blankets as you struggled to break free.

“S-Sohma-san!” 

You paused as you watched him laugh at your form, the sound of his voice being so joyous made your heart feel warm. Even though the two of you had never bickered like this before, or even have in the first place, it didn’t hurt at all. Is this what it was like to have a friendly argument? You thought. 

It felt. . . Weird. 

“S-Sorry, it’s just-“ He continued to laugh, “y-you look like. . . Birds when they. . . Get weighted!” 

You silently thought for a while as to what he meant but quickly realized that he was referring to you like a burrito bird. It's when you wrap up the bird in a towel or blanket for them to get weighed when they visit the vet. 

In other words. . . He was teasing you!

“I-I’m not! Take that back!” You cried out, trying to escape from the wrappings but Yuki placed his weight onto the folds of the blanket. 

“Nope.” 

“Y-You’re. . . Insufferable.” You tried to turn your head away from Yuki to look more intimidating but he was finding it hard to take you seriously when you’re bundled up in your sheets. He gave you an innocent smile as if to tease you about the predicament you were trapped in. 

“Why are you so strong?” You mumbled, feeling your strands of hair falling in front of your face, but you were unable to push it back. 

“I practiced martial arts as a kid.” He replied. 

“. . . I see. . . Your cousin said that as well. . .” You saw his smile slowly crack to a saddened frown as he stared at you. 

“. . . Do you not like it?” You asked, wiggling your arms out until you finally broke free of your restraints. You watched him cross his arms over on your sheets as he laid his head down, his gloomy expression still present on his face as his bangs shrouded the heavy emotions from his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t say like. . . I didn’t find any enjoyment in it.” 

He winced at the painful memory, ones that had resurfaced into the conversation. Although he has learned enough to beat Kyo with ease, Yuki never found himself passionate about the sport as much as he was. He never really had any sparring partners unlike Kyo, who had Hatsuhara fight with him while he watched from the sidelines. He still remembers the way Akito wrapped his hands around his head, the darkness enveloping him as the sound of her voice echoed in his mind. It sent shivers down his spine every time he is reminded by the sound of her laughter. 

You reached out to pull back his bangs, finally seeing his full saddened expression that he tried to hide from you. He didn’t know why, but having you be able to touch him like this made him feel lighter. There was something about the warmth of your hand against his cold skin that made him feel comforted. 

“It must have been hard,” You spoke up, feeling Yuki caress the palm of your hand with his fingers, “. . . I never really practiced martial arts but. . . It looks like it makes you sad.” 

“Is that so. . .” He pressed his lips together, “(L/n)-san, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure?” You felt him intertwine his fingers with you, shocking you internally. 

“Do you think that I will leave you?” 

You drew circles with the tip of your thumb on his hand, “. . . I don’t know. You might.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because. . .” Was it right for you to say the truth? You peered down at his eyes to see them filled to the brim with sincerity and kindness, his grey-blue orbs giving you his entire attention while he grasped onto your hand. You weighed down your options, trying to figure out what was the right words to say and the ones you should avoid. 

“. . . You wouldn’t like me anymore,” You mumbled, “I’m. . . Nothing like you think I am.” 

“That isn’t true (L/n)-san,” he started, “from the way I see things, I think the truest form of yourself is right in front of me.” 

“Y-You’re just saying things that don’t make sense.” You retorted, biting the bottom of your lips, “you don’t know that.” 

“I believe in it though,” he smiled, “you rarely cry in front of others, but it seems like I’m the only one who saw you like this, right?” He squeezed your hand softly, “you’re showing me a side that no one else sees.”

“You’re crying.” You pulled yourself away from him in shock, trying to cover your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized, sniffling underneath your hand as you turned away from him.

“Don’t apologize, what’s wrong?”

“I. . .” You choked on a sob, trying to keep quiet in the theater while the movie drowned out the noises of your tears. You didn’t know if you could trust Akito fully, but there was something about the look he gave you which made you feel wanted.

"Does that mean I'm special to you?" He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, the feeling of his warm breath just mere inches above your lips. Was he teasing you again with this? 

". . . You were already someone special." You whispered, pulling away and covering your face with your hands. At the same time, he leaned back and gave you another smile. 

"That makes me happy to hear." 

". . . You should still go to class." You suggested, dropping your hands and clutching onto the edges of your blanket, "I kept you here enough, you should go."

Your heart began to ache at the memory of Akito. You couldn't help but feel guilty about Yuki, out of all times that your memories could have resurfaced, it had to be today. 

"Eager for me to leave?" He teased. 

You grabbed onto your pillow and lightly smacked him with the soft material, "t-that's not that I'm implying! Go to school!"

"I told you that I'll be skipping today, just say that you got me sick. . ." He caught your pillow before you could hit him a second time. 

"Y-You can't!"

"Why not?"

"B-Because you stayed here long enough, don't you think Shigure-san will get mad?" The two of you blankly stared at each other until Yuki fumbled over to the table to pick up his phone. 

There were several calls from Shigure that he ignored while he fell asleep, and other messages from Tohru asking when he would be coming home. There was one message from Kyo but it was garbled nonsense that he must have been forced to type up to bring Yuki back home. You yawned while he sighed as he turned to you, "is it fine if I take a call with Shigure-san?"

"Sure, I'm going to wash my face and shower." You decided to take a shower, if you spent too long in the bath it would be awkward for Yuki who is waiting for you to finish.

You yawned and slipped out of bed, making your way to the bathroom with slight difficulty. Once you had left the comfort of your bed, your head became lightheaded and your eyes began to see some static, however, you found this normal in your human body due to your blood pressure. Yuki waited for the door to close before opening a call with Shigure, his phone rang for a few seconds until he heard him on the other side of the line. 

"Yuki-kun! Where were you last night? Tohru-kun told us that you were at (Y/n)-kun's house, did you stay over there? Did you sleep with her? You naughty boy!" 

"If you don't shut up I will hurt you," Yuki groaned, "I'm fine, did I cause that much worry for everyone in the house?"

"Nope, no one missed you!"

"Shigure. . ." He turned to the door of the bathroom, still seeing that you were inside. He heard the water of your shower turn on and he brought his phone closer to his ear as he leaned his back against your bed. 

"Just kidding! Tohru was getting worried that you might stay over at her house without a clean pair of clothes, but it was already too late for her to start walking over to (Y/n)-kuns house! Speaking of (Y/n)-kun, is she recovering from her sickness?" Shigure corrected, his laugh erupting from his lips. 

"She's fine, I think her temperature gone down," Yuki responded, "she might be feeling a bit woozy though, she was wobbling to the bathroom."

Shigure hummed, "the school called, are the two of you going?" 

"Er. . . Not today." 

"So you're skipping for a girl?" 

"Tease me again and I will end this call," Yuki mumbled, "be serious here Shigure. And no, (L/n)-san actually got me sick so I will be staying over for a bit longer." His lips curved into a small smirk, this was unplanned for you but this was a great way for him to actually get to talk to you more without the restraints of the public. 

Shigure laughed, "my bad. . . I was just thinking that you have been coming over to her house a lot, I was wondering if the two of you were something else?" 

The door to the bathroom opened up, your hair still soaking wet as you came out with a towel around your head to dry your (h/c) strands. Small droplets of water dribbled down your chin as you continued to brush your hair with the fluffy material. You were wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, due to your exhaustion your body was still slightly wet so your clothes stuck to your skin. You walked over to the kitchen, leaving the towel on your neck as you went for a drink of water for your dry throat. Yuki awkwardly gawked at you for a few seconds before hanging up on Shigure without answering him back. 

"What did Shigure-san say?" You leaned up against the counter with a bottle of water to your lips.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, "he kept joking with me. The school called for both of us but you got me sick." 

"Did you actually say that?!" You almost spat out your drink.

"Yeah," he brushed back his long strands of hair. 

". . . I see," you replied, staring down at your water bottle and watching the small ripples form in the clear liquid. 

Something about the way he talked about martial arts earlier made you feel as if there was something underneath the surface of his family. It seems as if nearly everyone practiced it at a young age, was it a requirement or simply a sport that was forced upon them? Kyo seemed to enjoy it greatly, but Yuki looks as if he is disgusted by it. 

. . . You would be too. 

“God. . . Please accept this gift and finally release this spirit.” You dug your nails into your hand before getting to your feet, you reeled your hand back and punched her in the face, her screams echoing in the room as you heard her skull hit the wall. She released an anguished cry while you picked up the bowl of fruit, smashing the ceramic by throwing it onto the floor. The shards covering the wooden surface and cutting parts of your skin.

You hate this feeling.

You grit your teeth and clenched your fist tightly, your eyes glaring down at her in anger. You picked up the broken bowl, the longest shard being held in your hand as you kneeled next to her. The altar of God watching over you, looming over your childish figure as you raised the shard above your head.

You hate this desire.

Yuki heard the sound of plastic crackling and the explosion of water, watching as your fist tightened around the body of the bottle as droplets of liquid fell from your cheeks. Your nails pierced the bottle before lifelessly dropping it onto the ground, the crumpling of the plastic hitting the wooden ground as water continued to drop from your face.

"(L/n)-san. . ." Yuki quickly got off of the floor and took your towel, wiping away the water that drenched you, "what's going on?" 

You gasped before flinching at Yuki's gentle touches, you instinctively slapped his hand away, the towel falling onto the ground with a small splat as you stared at him silently. 

"W-What are you doing?" You asked. 

He tilted his head towards you in confusion, "you. . . spilled water over yourself." 

"I. . . Sorry." You apologized, crouching down to pick up the water bottle and towel from the ground, feeling Yuki's stare linger on your figure as you straightened yourself.

You were stupid.

This was a mistake on your own part, getting lost in your thoughts and forgetting about your own surroundings. Yuki is going to question everything and you wouldn’t be able to have an answer for them all. You dumped the bottle into the recycling trash bag, pausing for a few seconds before awkwardly going back to sit on your bed, your body still wet from the water bottle and shower. 

"Is. . . Is there something bothering you?" Yuki sat down next to you, the weight of the bed shifting to accompany the two of you. 

You fiddled with the edges of your fingers, ". . . I was just wondering. . . Why do you hate martial arts?" You lied.

“I don’t hate it,” Yuki pressed his lips together in a frown as he tightened his fist around your blanket, “it doesn’t bring back good memories, that's all.” 

“I see.” 

“Is that what was bothering you?” 

Of course, he wouldn’t have positive memories of martial arts. It was just another thing the two of you shared in common. Although you felt your reasoning was slightly selfish and self-destructive, it was for the sake of everyone else that you care deeply about. 

You would rather die than hurt anyone the same way you did in the past. 

You stared at him before giving him a small smile. There certainly was something you could continue trying to do though.

“No, I'm fine,” You spoke up, “but. . . Sohma-san. . .” 

You reached out to touch his hand, bringing it close to your lips as you held them there, “I think that you’re really amazing.” 

You wanted to free him from his own burdens, even if it meant pushing your own self away from his worries.