#Tangle like: I died fighting until the last moment and did all I could.

[mostlyinconvenient]

Shadow's storyline in the zombot arc, annotated for clarity:

I'm new to this franchise but this scene made me so emotional 😿

[knightdgblue]

Have a very sad idea that is about Sentinel redemption and Optimus and Black Arachnia redemption.

Optimus gets completely wiped by a memo surgeon and stripped of his Prime title. Sentinel…. Wants his friend back. Being forced to watch this hurts.

He’s just glad Black Arachnia only hates him now and doesn’t blame Optimus anymore. After all, the Optimus she knew is dead, it’s just Optimus now.

A silent, emotionless, faceless drone. He has his mask up at all times and no one knows if it ever comes down or is wielded to his face.

Of course how would he feed if it was?

Now while regret eats him as he tries to find a way to bring him back, he can’t stand looking at him anymore as he follows Ultra Magnus as his assistant.

Sentinel became the Magnus’ right hand to stay close by.

Black Arachnia has been trying to grab Optimus and do the same thing, free him- he might not be the same bot before but at least she could try helping him!

She doesn’t want anything to do with Sentinel until it’s plans to bring Optimus to the Deceptions with her.

One day, they get a call by an old war Medic about finding the Allspark. Ultra Magnus goes there himself along with him and Optimus.

On the deserted rock in the middle of nowhere, they greet the crew of seven. There were four repair bots and three guards, among them one bot they don’t recognize.

While they were about to go put the Allspark onto their ship, the Decepticons appeared. A battle began and they were split up.

Ultra Magnus sent Optimus to go with repair crew as the Allspark was still on their ship. The guards going with them. He tangled with Black Arachnia again for the first time since he first met her on a scout mission.

The Warp gate opened in an attempt to lose the Deceptions but something happened and there was an explosion. They lost the them and the Allspark.

Ultra Magnus retreated with Sentinel.

———-

With Optimus, functioning only to protect the Allspark as the Ship is attacked. Megatron and Starscream fight each other and for the Allspark.

While Optimus is putting up a fight, he can’t really do much as a drone like mech. His only mission is the Allspark as that was the last command he received from Ultra Magnus.

The Allspark then shined brightly, he was the only on with it at the time.

As Soon as Starscream was batted a way into space, Megatron focused on the Allspark. Optimus gets injured.

In a team effort, they all pushed Megatron out the door. He had grabbed one of the crews and was dragging them out with him if Optimus hadn’t kicked him in the face, releasing them. That was unusual for a drone mech.

He’s only supposed to protect the Allspark, not leave its side. Bleeding out, he drove the ship into the water with only a few moments for the medic to pull him into a pod before getting into one himself.

The way things happen will be different with eight members of the crew, but slowly the drone that Optimus was changes.

When Ratchet patched him up, he realized why he only listened when he pulled rank as the medic. He was disgusted and felt the need to help.

He would have stayed on the ship with the Allspark if he hadn’t seen the video of what was happening above water and saw Sari in trouble.

Rules state bots mustn’t interfere or interact with organics and natives of a planet.

Especially their Protoforms.

Protoforms should be protected.

The organic is a Protoform.

A protoform is in danger.

The right to live belong to all sentient beings.

—————

Now I envision Optimus slowly beginning to emote and act more than what is left of him.

He dies doing his objective of protecting the Allspark.

Sari is attached to him, she sees something the others had given up on. She can see the bot he was and who he could become.

The key brings him back from death and whatever the Allspark did along time ago to him activated.

He can talk now. Rarely, with small words, and with an air of curiosity. He does state what his orders are or repeat laws, but once in a while he will repeat a word his curious about or a short sentence.

It was only around Halloween that he has acted more than he ever has. This gives Sari and the others hope.

Then Black Arachnia shows up. Her true objective is Optimus, but a possible cure is a good bonus to have. One of Optimus’ self imposed missions is protecting the organic protoform, Sari, from harm.

No matter what she says does not register to Optimus, but the subtle fear of spiders gives her hope he’ll think about her and who she is to him.

Hmmmm I think this Optimus gets along with Wreck-Gar.

Uh I’m going to wrap up this post. I didn’t put everything, but this is the idea.

Sentinel’s guilt are him up Everytime he saw Optimus and tried talking to him. The longing for his friend to come back and he is haunted by Optimus disappearing for 50 years. Optimus is dead and Black Arachnia hates him, it’s all his fault and he is alone.

Sentinel only softens up when he was alone with Optimus, but Optimus isn’t here. He’s a horrible jerk to cover up every thing he feels. Selfishness to cope.

I don’t know what to call this AU

Maybe Under the Circuitry or Reboot or Full Reset or something like that?

No I don’t like any of those.

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 7: THE BATHTUB

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I can't believe we only have two more episodes left! Thank you all for your patience! Let me know what y'all think. I read everything and respond!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3252

Masterlist

PART I || PART II ||

HAWKINS POLICE STATION – CHERRY STREET

As soon as I open the front door, a gust of cold wind blows and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. The cool air feels nice on my skin despite the cold. I wish I wore a jacket instead of a plaid shirt. I look around trying to figure out where I should go. I can’t walk too far away from the station in case Chief Hopper comes back. I decide to go left up Cherry Street. The series of unfortunate events leading up to this moment all play out in my head and I rub my temples trying to ease the dull pulsating ache. 

Today, Jonathan, Nancy and I started to forge a plan to kill the monster and find Will and Barb. How will we find them in that place? How will we find the tree? It closed after Jonathan pulled me out of it. I can’t imagine how alone and scared Barb must be inside that place by herself. It’s been days since I last saw her and with the police thinking she left town; they won’t try finding her. The Hollands. I blink back tears, flaring my nostrils to keep them from falling. I hope they don’t think badly of Nancy and I for lying. I feel like we owe it to them to find Barb and bring her back. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, sniffing softly.

There are still so many loose ends to tie up like where can we lure the monster if not in the forest where it lives? How do we have the upper hand in killing the monster? Hawkins is a small town, there is nowhere to put this thing without drawing attention to ourselves especially now that we are on the radar of cops. I let out a noise of frustration, stomping on the ground. How are we going to execute the plan now? Nancy and I can’t leave Jonathan at the station. What if they put him in jail? 

If it weren’t for Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve, we would be able to properly plan.

This all happened because Jonathan was in Nancy’s room? There’s no doubt in my mind that they weren’t doing anything compromising. How could they after what happened? Nancy almost died last night. If it weren’t for Jonathan who knows what could have happened to her—to me. Also, Nancy liked Steve too much to do anything that could jeopardize her relationship with him. The voice in the back of my head questions: But what about Jonathan? 

As if you didn’t know from the start, Sinclair! It would explain why you’re always protecting the pervert.

I frown pushing strands of hair away from my face. It’s clear Steve and Jonathan do not like each other. I thought it was because of stupid boy ego and bravado. Both boys can be arrogant. It explains why they clash. But I feel unsettled by what Steve said in the alley. As if you didn’t know from the start. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t believe it to be true, would he? 

Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid. 

I don’t agree with what Flo said to Nancy and I about Jonathan’s reasons for fighting back in the alley, but with all that has happened this week, all that was said, especially in the forest about believing Nancy was “trying to be someone else” yet doing what every other suburban girl does, rebel until the phase passes and end up marrying “some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring life at the end of a cul-de-sac”. I didn’t realize it back then, but now that I think about it, Jonathan was talking about Steve. I stop walking and look around. It’s like everything clicked and that unsettling feeling became stronger, heavier. 

Does Jonathan like Nancy? 

My brain feels like a tangled web of confusion. How did I not notice it before? The signs are all there. It was all subtle and platonic in the moment, but the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. I laugh in disbelief shaking my head. 

This is such a mess.  

I shiver against the strong gust of wind whooshing in my ear and tuck my chin into my chest, continuing to walk. Neither Jonathan or Steve hid their dislike for each other. Part of me regrets standing up for Steve yesterday, especially after today. But the argument in the forest was about Jonathan taking those photos. It always comes down to that stupid lapse in judgement. Though I don’t agree with Steve breaking Jonathan’s camera, I understand why he did it. To protect Nancy’s honour and to protect himself. As I told Jonathan, Steve’s privacy was violated too. All of ours were. What Jonathan did was gross and Steve did what he thought was best. Steve had a right to be upset. 

He just takes it too far.

Breaking Jonathan’s camera, the marquee, the awful things he said to both Nancy and Jonathan. I know Steve is hurt. I saw it in his eyes. From his perspective the optics aren’t great. He did what he thought was right in the moment to protect Nancy, checked up on her to see if she was okay, only to find Nancy in her room with Jonathan, the boy he was trying to protect her from. I get it, but the rigmarole after. Unacceptable. 

Steve wanted that fight with Jonathan back in the alley and Jonathan was ready to give him that fight. A chill runs down my spine. The sound of skin hitting skin replays in my head. The power behind every punch still scares me. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s been a quiet, somewhat brooding person who often kept to himself. He doesn’t bother nor really talk to anyone. It was always him and his camera. It’s why the way he was fighting Steve concerned me. 

Even though our little brothers are best friends, this week has been the most I have ever spoken to Jonathan. We’ve exchanged a few words when I helped him with his photography project, but other than that, we rarely crossed paths. I am aware of his home life based on what Lucas would say during dinner about Will not being able to come over to hang out with the rest of the boys because he’s spending time with his dad. Based on his tone alone, it’s clear Will is uncomfortable around him. At the funeral, I remember observing the way he was acting. There was something sly about Mr. Byers because I haven’t seen or heard about him until Will’s funeral. It’s clear he isn’t present in both boys lives because Jonathan doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Even when Steve was saying horrible things about his dad, Jonathan didn’t flinch. 

“Excuse me, sorry,” I say, pushing past a couple standing in the middle of the street. 

He didn’t do anything until Steve started saying terrible things about Miss Byers and Will. I looked in his eyes, that flash of rage, but it was too late. Jonathan’s punches were direct and intentional…familiar almost. Where did he learn to fight? Did his dad teach him? Or was Jonathan used to having to protect himself all the time? Even though our unlikely alliance came out of something tragic, I like being around him. I care about him. I puff out my cheeks, running my fingers through my hair. There was so much I needed to talk to Jonathan about. 

HAWKINS CINEMA

My feet come to a stop in front of the building that started it all. I stare up at the large marquee feeling many different emotions all at once. Shock. Disgust. Anger. Disappointment. It’s been almost 45 minutes since I first saw the horrible display of affection and though there wasn’t a crowd circling Hawkins Cinema to see the spectacle, the bright red letters still commanded attention. 

NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

How did we get here? The question has been burning a hole in my brain all morning. I scowl at Tommy’s messy handwriting. That boy is the absolute worse. The unsettling image of Tommy watching me from afar makes me sick to my stomach. It’s one thing to pick on me, but to follow me around and loathe me for talking to someone who has been nothing but kind to me. I clench my hands into fists, grinding my teeth against each other. The perception people have of Eddie is starting to annoy me and I can’t help but feel protective of him. He’s not like anyone in town and I can relate to that. Being different. Eddie makes it look easy and I love that about him. I envy that about him as well. 

From the corner of my eye, I see a tall person and glance in their direction. Realizing who it is, I scoff shaking my head. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Sinclair?” 

I ignore Steve walking fast back down Cherry Street.

“Hey, wait!” Steve shouts. I keep my head down avoiding the confused stares of bystanders.

“Sinclair!”

I press my lips together feeling the bubbling anger in my stomach rise to my chest. Sinclair? Who does he think he is, calling me Sinclair. As if I’m a teammate on the basketball team. He knows my name. I look around ready to cross the street when I feel Steve run up beside me.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” He pants, holding his side. 

“No.” I say looking anywhere to avoid looking at him. When the coast is clear I jog across the street. 

“Please,” Steve huffs jogging beside me. “Just hear me out.” 

“No.” 

“Look, I just want to apologize.” 

I roll my eyes, snorting in disbelief. “Again? Save it. I don’t need an apology because I know you’re going to do something for it to not mean anything.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sinclair—”

I whip around so fast Steve flinches as my hair hits him across his chest. “Don’t call me that!” I snap, glaring angrily at him. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t say anything! Leave me alone!” 

Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. As suspected looking at Jonathan’s swollen knuckles, the entire left side of his face is battered and bruised. From the split on his left brow, the bridge of his nose and right side of his lip in addition to all the dry blood smeared and crusting around his face, Jonathan got him good. I would’ve been more horrified and compassionate if it weren’t for what he did to get beaten and how rude and impolite he is to me right now. 

I walk pass him continuing down Cherry Street. The nerve of him. I am not one of his loyal followers. I am not his friend, especially after what he did and said back in the alley. I perk up feeling another wave of anger build in me. Jonathan, Nancy and I had to be escorted to the police station while, Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve got off scot-free when they were the ones causing the problems in the first place. No one has been accounted for that disgusting sign, yet Jonathan is literally handcuffed for defending himself.

I am sick and tired of people being terrible and getting a slap on the wrist because of their popularity. I turn around, stomping back to Steve who hadn’t moved from his spot, staring wide eyed and confused at the building of Hawkins Post. 

“I don’t know what that was or who you think you are,” I continue. “But if the person I saw back there is the real you. I will make sure Nancy stays far, far away. That I promise you, Harrington.” I threaten. Steve opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off quick. “Do you know how traumatic this is for her?” 

“Traumatic?” Steve shouts, staring at me in disbelief. “She cheated on me!” 

“No, she didn’t!” I shout back, defending my best friend. Nancy wouldn’t do that. She likes him too much. “You only caught a glimpse of something and ran with it.” 

“You didn’t see what I saw, Sin—” Steve’s words die in his throat. I squint, daring him to call me by my last name again. Steve shifts to lean on one leg, putting one hand on his hip and takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge between his nose with his other. He winces slightly, dropping his hand to his other hip and glares down at me. “They were sitting on her bed and he had—he had his arm around her.” 

I blink waiting for more information. Steve stares back at me waiting for my response. I frown. “That’s it?” 

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in annoyance. 

“That’s why you’re upset?”

Steve groans out of frustration, combing his fingers through his hair. “I know what I saw and I know what Nancy did!” 

“Did you ever stop and think maybe Nancy was confiding in Jonathan because they both lost someone important to them? Is that too hard to believe?” Steve scoffs shaking his head. “If you really believed she cheated on you, instead of running to Tommy, Carol, and Nicole, knowing how they are, why didn’t you just call Nancy and talk to her!” 

“I saw what I saw.” Steve says. His voice is quiet and even, but the anger and hurt in his eyes remain. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“So, because there’s ‘nothing to talk about’,” I use air quotes, mocking him. “You decided to slut-shame Nancy in front of the entire town.” I yell, extending an arm out, pointing with disdain at the source of irritation. “You’re sick!” I hiss, pointing at him before turning away.

“That was all Tommy, not me!” Steve yells. “I didn’t write that about Nancy!” 

I turn around rushing toward him. “But you didn’t stop Tommy from doing it and that’s always been my issue with you!” I cry, lifting my hands up in the air. “You never stop it. You never do anything. You stand there and let it happen!” Steve jerks his head back, drawing his brows together. I drop my hands down to my sides. “Whether you like it or not, everything falls back on you because you’re King Steve. You have this—this persona to uphold and you cannot choose when it does and does not apply to you because it always does!” 

“I didn’t ask to be King Steve.” Steve says between clenched teeth.  

“You look fine when you’re reaping the benefits when it serves you.” I point out. “But when something like this happens, when your back is against the wall, now it’s I didn’t ask to be King Steve? Give me a break!” Steve avoids eye contact, clenching his teeth until I see the tick in his jaw. “It’s so frustrating to see you act the way you do when you're around Tommy and Carol or any one of your stupid jock friends because I know that’s not you and deep down,” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I know you know it too. I know you know better. You’re not like them, Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes lock with mines. The lines between his brows smoothen and I see that look again, the one I saw briefly in the alley. I stare up at him, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip and shake my head, looking up at the sky.

“Believe it or not, I think your better than them. You can be such a jerk—an asshole even, but you are better than them.” I speak softly, looking back at him. “Every time I start to think ‘maybe Steve Harrington isn’t that bad. Maybe he’s actually a good person’. You do something to make me take back my words and I feel foolish enough to believe you can be.” 

Steve draws his brows in sadly. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I am a good person.” He murmurs. 

“Are you?” I challenge, pointing at the marquee again. “Is that who you are? Is that who you want to be?” 

“I—” Steve trails off unsure of what to say. 

I drop my hand, crossing my arms above my chest to keep warm. I’m not wearing a proper jacket or any jacket; just a plaid shirt. 

“I know you’re embarrassed by the pictures.” I begin, swiping strands of hair out of my face as a gust of wind blows in our direction. “You were in them and your privacy was invaded just as much as Nancy’s. I promise you; I do not condone what Jonathan did and he knows that. It was disgusting and stupid. I’ve had that conversation with him. However, that is no excuse to say all those things about him and his family. I know you’re hurt because of Nancy, but, Jesus, Steve.” I look down at my shoes, kicking a pebble onto the road. 

“I didn’t mean it.” 

“You wanted that fight with Jonathan, admit it.” His silence is enough to confirm my sentiment. I shake my head. 

“You do realize he buried his brother yesterday, don’t you? His brother. My little brother’s best friend was buried yesterday and we still—” I stop, trying to catch my breath. I put my hand on my chest blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “We still can’t find Barb.” 

“Have you heard anything from the cops?” Steve asks. I don’t respond right away looking at the blood stains on his shirt. Flashes of the monster in the woods, eating that deer appear in my mind and I close my eyes trying to rid it from my memory.

“Diana.” My eyebrows twitch and I open my eyes. Steve is looking at me with such intensity my breathing becomes shallow. This is the first time Steve has said my name. The first time acknowledging me as a person, not just Nancy’s best friend. The way he says my name…the yearning in his voice. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Steve licks his bottom up shifting uncomfortably back and forth. “Please.” He begs. “I know something’s wrong. It’s—It’s why I went over to Nancy’s in the first place.” He sighs in defeat. “I just want to help.”

Part of me believes him. The part of me who believes Steve is a good person. I want to tell him what happened to Nancy and I last night in the forest, about Jonathan saving us from near-death. I want to tell him about the police finding Barbs car at a bus station. I want to tell him everything…but I look at the marquee again. I can’t get too close to Steve. Suddenly becoming hyper aware of how close Steve and I were to each other. I blink, taking a step back creating space between us. Steve moves to take a step toward me, but decides against it. I fix my posture, shaking my head. 

“You can’t.” I say coldly, walking backwards and away from him. “You seriously need to figure out how to express your emotions because I don’t know how you come back from this. I really don’t. If I were Nancy, I would never want to see or speak to you again.” 

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[madangel19]

I saw your murder ghoul starters and was wondering if “There’s no hiding from me. I can smell your blood.” With Cirrus and Copia

Hell yeah, Anon! Murder ghoulette Cirrus coming right up!

Warnings: Some blood and violence, but nothing too graphic

Words: 1391

The ministry catacombs seemed to go on forever the more Copia ran. He wanted to stop to see just how bad the bite in his arm was, but if he so much as stopped, then he was a dead man. Why did he come down here alone with the ghoulette knowing that the full moon would affect her in some way? He should have had another ghoul come along, but would that have put him in even more danger? It was very likely. 

Copia picked up the pace when he heard a bone-chilling scream behind him. Why did he have to be so clumsy and accidentally cut himself? He wouldn’t have been in this situation then. He just wanted to find a rat that Cirrus had found and then it all went downhill. The rat was probably long gone now. 

Copia noticed an open doorway up ahead. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but hopefully it would give him time to hide. He turned into the room and shut it behind him, locking it. It wouldn’t hold long, but anything was welcome at this point. There was a dimly lit candle that illuminated the open room. There wasn’t much to the room, but he noticed five more closed doors ahead of him. He picked the middle one and went through it. There was barely anything in the room besides a wardrobe and a bed. Copia got down on his knees and crawled under the bed, pulling the blanket down from the edge and covering himself as much as he could. 

He took a deep breath to calm himself as he gazed into the dark. Was his time finally up? Was this the clergy’s plan to take him out and replace him like they did with his brothers? The very thought made him sick to his stomach, but nothing came up just yet. He had to hide and hope for the best.

Moments passed and he could hear an angry growl from the connecting room before there was a sickening crunch that sounded like wood splintering. The ghoulette’s strength was something to be admired, but at the moment, it terrified him. She could easily tear him apart with ease. The growls were much louder now as heavy footsteps filled the air. The growls died down to low chitters as the door to the room Copia was hiding in opened. Copia covered his mouth, not daring to move.

“There’s no hiding from me, Copia. I can smell your blood,” Cirrus hissed, her voice soft but deadly. 

He didn’t want to die like this. This was a miserable way to die. Hiding like a little rat until the cat eventually found him and tore him to pieces. He could only hope that it didn’t last long. 

Moments passed and Copia noticed her feet standing right by the bed. The blanket was pulled away and he gasped as the ghoulette lifted the bed. He looked up and saw her red glowing eyes gazing down at him hungrily, illuminating her wicked sharp-toothed smile.

He was about to start begging for mercy before he noticed a familiar pair of purple glowing eyes on the ceiling watching the two of them. Cirrus tossed the bed to the side and as soon as it landed on the ground, the figure on the ceiling dropped down on Cirrus, pinning her down. Cirrus yelped in surprise, struggling to get free from Swiss who refused to move.

“Run, Papa! Get to the others!” Swiss ordered. 

“No! Give him to me! I need him!” Cirrus screamed, lashing out at Swiss before turning to reach out to Copia. Copia was at a loss for words before something within told him to get up. He jumped to his feet and ran past the tangled mess of limbs and tails. Cirrus swiped at his ankle, nearly tripping him. 

Copia glanced back at the two of them as they fought. Seeing them fight, even if it was playful, was always a scary sight, but seeing them actually fight to the possible death was even scarier. Hopefully, Swiss would subdue the enraged ghoulette enough to calm her down, but an enraged ghoulette was a powerful ghoulette.

Copia was back in the main hallway of the catacombs when he heard a pained howl from Swiss.

“Papa run!” Swiss cried out weakly.

Copia did as he was told and ran deeper into the catacombs. He would have gone the other way, but he didn’t want to lead her back to the church where she could hurt innocent siblings. 

He was nearly close to collapsing now, the pain in his shoulder becoming all the more intense. He had to stop, but where were the others? Swiss said they were coming to help. Was this a trick? No, it couldn’t be. Why would the multi ghoul put himself at risk if this was a trick?

“Papa!” A familiar voice exclaimed.

Copia stopped in his tracks and noticed Cumulus opening a door up ahead, Sunshine and Aurora were behind her, looking absolutely terrified. She motioned for him to come forward as the rest of the pack came pouring out from different side doors to form a protective wall between him and the blood-thirsty ghoulette who had just run out into the catacombs behind him. Cirrus stopped in her tracks when she noticed was happening. 

“Give him to me. It’s a full moon and I want him,” Cirrus growled, her teeth bared angrily. 

“We’re not gonna do that, Cirrus,” Aether grumbled.

“Papa, let’s go,” Sunshine pleaded, rushing over to his side and tugging at his bloodied sleeve. There was a hungry look in her eyes when she saw the blood pouring from his wound, but she shook her head with a soft chirp. 

“Don’t…Don’t hurt her. It…This is…all a misunderstanding, miei cari amici,” Copia said.

Swiss came trudging down the hallway, looking disgruntled and bloody, but as soon as he saw what was happening, he sprung into action.

“Cirrus, we’ll get you something better to eat. You know we never hurt Papa,” the multi ghoul grumbled, circling the ghoulette. Rain, Dewdrop, and Mountain joined him while Phantom and Aether stayed back, creating a wall.

“Let’s go now, Papa,” Aurora said, tugging at his other sleeve. Cumulus kept a hand on the door, her tear-filled gaze never leaving Cirrus. 

“No, I want Papa,” Cirrus hissed, lunging forward. Rain, Swiss, Dewdrop, and Mountain immediately piled on top of her as she let out a feral scream that made Copia’s blood run cold. The ghoulettes immediately dragged him into the doorway, closing it shut. 

“I’m so sorry, Papa. I should have come with you two,” Cumulus wept as they ran together in the dark.

“Don’t cry, mia cara. Hopefully some… some sense will be knocked into Cirrus and she will be back to her normal self,” Copia replied, hissing in pain as the wound in his shoulder irritated him even more. Hopefully he was right.

It wasn’t long before they came across one of the many exits of the catacombs that led to the ghoul den. The ghoulettes got him to the biggest couch in the ghoul den and sat him down.

“Do you think you can make it to the medical wing, Papa?” Aurora asked, looking like she was on the verge of tears. 

“I just need to rest. Give me a…a moment,” Copia replied, touching his chest and feeling his still rapidly beating heart. He took a few deep breaths and groaned as he laid back. The trio of ghoulettes knelt by his side, nuzzling him and cooing over him. He never realized just how tired he was until now. A nap wouldn’t hurt at a time like this.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Cumulus bring out some bandages while Aether appeared by his side. He could feel the calming quintessence radiating from the ghoul as he slowly drifted off into sleep. Sunshine was resting her head on his chest, her warmth and her purrs easing his pain even more.

“Cirrus is still down in the catacombs. She’s better after we restrained her for a bit, but she needs some time alone. She says she feels awful about hurting you and Swiss, Papa,” the quintessence ghoul explained to him.

Copia smiled, knowing that she was okay. Everyone was going to be okay.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

(Masterpost)

The ground shook under them as the trees parted and closed. The path was becoming trickier to traverse, at any moment they felt like they could be swallowed whole by the forest. They could feel the hungry eyes of creatures beyond the shadows. Tangled arms and claws shot out at the three hunters. Obanai lunged at the one closer to him as Uzui followed suit. Shinazugawa kept running after the ever moving figure.

He could see the figure getting closer and closer. He raised his blade to strike and slashed with all his strength.

The blade lodged itself into a large tree trunk. Shinazugawa, in a fit of confusion, pulled back and scanned around the area. The rumbling subsided and all was still in the forest. He knew it was close, the trail of snow he followed had dispersed all around him. Even if the monster wasn’t near, its lair was.

“Monster!” He yelled! “No use in hiding! Pay for what you’ve done!”

The wind howled, drowning out the sounds of his fellow huntsmen battles until all was calm. Dead calm.

A shadow loomed from behind him, “Leave. Now.”

He turned around and there was nothing there. Shinazugawa drew his sword in front of him, “Show yourself coward!”

Quiet.

“You can’t hide forever! Demons like you should just lay back and die.”

Still nothing.

“You kill innocents! You killed (L/N)’s kid!”

With great speed, Shinazugawa’s body was hoisted high into the air. The creature snarled at him, “Leave this mountain or do not blame me for your death.”

Shinazugawa readied himself and sliced through the creature's bony arm. It howled in pain, grasping onto the arm that already started to rejuvenate itself.

“Any last words?” Shinazugawa grinned

“I warned you.” The creature growled.

The mountain shook once more as the trees swarmed around them. Shinazugawa moved through them all, meeting the creature in the middle. In turn it used the trees as its defense to land slash after slash on the hunter. In fear of the battle, lesser creatures moved towards the base of the mountain to a quickly growing overwhelmed Uzui and Obanai. Wave after wave the monsters came down upon them. They both knew staying in place would overpower them so they began using the terrain to their advantage. Even the quickest of demons could catch them in the treetops. As the two advanced, Giyuu was quickly finding himself in danger. Hunters usually died by the creatures before reaching him, and the ones that did were too exhausted to fight properly. This man was far above the hunters that came before. He was far more dangerous. His skill, his speed, his perseverance exceed what Giyuu expected of the hunters. With the other two fast approaching, he knew he had to retreat. At least to collect his own sword, just to stand a chance. Giyuu summoned rows of trees to cover him in his escape, a barrier between them. The hunter's voice taunted him as he hurried. Shinazugawa remained undeterred. He moved through the trees pushing past three trunks and scrapping branches. Unrelenting in his stride to kill the Beast.

From up the mountain’s path was a loud galloping. Cutting through the snow and trees with a figure on horseback. It confidently rode up the mountain and like a servant, the mountain obeyed and cleared a path for it. Uzui and Obanai hung on to the parting trees. They followed the path being laid out for them. The gallop came to a sudden halt when the horse tumbled forward. The figure flew off in front of it, plummeting into the snow. The horse was dragged away into the deep shadows.

Obanai jumped down from the tree to examined the body, “Who would be crazy enough to ride up here?”

He turned the figure over, it was a person wearing a white fox mask. They groaned, coming to their senses. The person backed away in fear of two people standing over them.

“You're the person from the village, the one holding the mask.” Uzui stated.

Like a flash went off in their mind they reached up to touch the mask. They gasped, “Giyuu!”

Abruptly they scrambled to run up the mountain followed by the two hunters. Uzui grabbed hold of you and you thrashed against him. “You can’t be here! This mountain is dangerous!”

Still you pulled away from him. “Hey! This monster already killed someone from your village!”

In your thrashing, the mask slipped off. Your eyes pierced into theirs. Filled with determination you yelled, “He didn’t kill me!”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Giyuu’s body could barely keep himself upright. The more the Hunter sliced at him, the longer it took his limbs to grow back. His leg was severed from the knee down. One of his hands was hardly reforming. He didn’t even put effort towards the chunk of his antler missing. He managed to fall into the mansion and hurriedly close the door. Just yesterday he was happy, in your arms and now, he might die before seeing you again. The image of you leaving him would be all that’s left.

He hurriedly limped through the halls to get to his own room. The mansion door slammed open as he did. Shinazugawa looked around the grand entrance. The dark halls echoed an ominous tone as he stalked through. He followed the smell of blood. The demon will reform soon and the trail will be gone. With each step he could feel the presence of the Beast looming around him. Like he was being baited towards it. As he passed the sitting room he saw a bright flame from the doorway. If the demon wanted to lure him, that’s fine but, Shinazugawa wouldn’t give him anywhere to run to.

Giyuu burst through the door of his room and closed it behind him. Carefully he peeked back the wallpaper to the sword. The sword that sealed his fate on the mountain.

“Sabito, help me again,” he whispered like a prayer. Before he could react, the door flew open. In came a bundle of firewood that singed his arms. He blocked the incoming blade with his own. “Last chance. Leave this mountain with your life and never return.”

“You say that to the others you killed?” He grinned.

In a frenzy the two lunged at each other. Swords clashing as they move around the enclosed space. Smoke started to billow up into the room. It was almost terrifying how this man Giyuu knew was human, still fought on like a demon himself. With scary accuracy his blows with land even when the smoke became darker. For once in a long time Giyuu was certain that he might die. Truthfully Shinazugawa knew the odds of him winning became lower if he stayed in this room. He needed the sun. With the dark clouds obscuring his vision, Shinazugawa pounced on Giyuu, taking him through the window. A puff of white snow covered the air on their descent. Shinazugawa’s held his sword inches away from Giyuu’s neck. Giyuu’s own sword bared against it. He slashed down causing both the swords to slice against his leg. Shinazugawa sliced at would have been a human's Achilles. Giyuu howled in pain. He raised his sword but Shinazugawa was quicker and cut off his hand. As he reached to grab it, Shinazugawa stabbed through his other hand, pinning it to his chest.

“You should just lie back and die.” He sneered. “It’s all your good for now.”

Is it over…?

(Y/N)…who will protect them when they come back?

With what little was left Giyuu grabbed the blade with his narrowly reformed hands. He lifted the blade out of his chest, slightly pushing Shinazugawa back. Shinazugawa wasn’t fazed by this. He candidly picked up and stabbed his sword into Giyuu’s thigh. Giyuu hissed as he glared up at him.

Shinazugawa smirked raising Giyuu’s sword, “At least you were a good fight.”

“NO!” a scream cut through the forest. Faster than he had realized a person came running up the mountain. They collapsed in front of Giyuu, shielding him with their body. “Don’t hurt him!”

From behind them came Uzui and Obanai running. “Shinazugawa! It’s the villager! The missing one!”

Shinazugawa looked at you again. He knew you from the wagon. Looking closer he saw the resemblance of the old couple. “You’re dead...”

“Obviously I’m not!” You snapped. You warily turned your back to him. Giyuu laid back in the snow, breathing heavily. You cooed softly, taking his hand in yours, “Giyuu.”

“You came back?” He smiled.

“I was always coming back.”

His breathing started to slow, “I’m glad. It wasn’t the same with you here.”

“Giyuu, I was gone for one day.”

“That’s one day too long. I wanted to see you before I go.” Giyuu gazed longingly up at the sky above. Through the leaves he could see the brightness of the sky. The morning was here and here you were too. Like the stars aligned to give him one last cruel twist of fate.

“Don’t talk like that, you’ll be okay.” You reassured him. You noticed the ends of his hair lit a spark in the snow. The reality dawned on you. You attempted to lift Giyuu. “Come on! It’s morning we have to get inside!”

The mansion was still engulfed in flames. You turned to the three hunters, “Please! We need to get to the village!”

“Hey, we can’t-”

“You were sent up here to help me so help me!” You yelled.

“(Y/N).” Giyuu spoke. “It’s okay.”

“No, I can’t let you die. Not after you saved me.” Tears spilled over from your eyes as Giyuu pulled you down closer to him.

“You saved me.” He smiled.

Your voice broke, “Giyuu please. Don’t leave me.” The sun started to peak over the horizon. His long hair burned as the wind pushed the shade back.

“(Y/N),” He held your face in his hands. “If we had more time, would you have loved me?”

“What..?”

“I love you. I didn’t think I could ever love anyone. Or want them to love me back. I’ve never wanted for anything until I found you.”

Giyuu pulled you into his embrace, feeling the flames licking up his back.

The tears didn’t stop. You pushed yourself further into his embrace. “Please, don’t leave me Giyuu.”

Even with the flames eating away at him, Giyuu felt the most peaceful. He gently let go of you. The burning spread all over. Still, he smiled, “Thank you for letting me live again.”

He stepped back, becoming engulfed in the flames. Shinazugawa tried to hold you back from being burned but you had lunged towards Giyuu. All that was left in your grasp was the burned pieces of his haori. You broke into painful, anguished sobs. Grasping at the fabric, not wanting to let go of what remained. You cried harder than you had in your whole life.

“Please! Please! I love him! I loved him the whole time!”

You knew it was futile. There was nothing left. And still you cried and begged for someone, anyone to turn back time. To give you the sense you had now. You would have never left the mountain. You would have stayed with him.

Uzui stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’ll freeze up here, let’s take you home.”

He looked remorseful. They were only doing what they thought was right, you couldn’t find it in your heart to hate them. Gathering yourself, you stood slowly. As you began the walk away the crackling fire stopped. The snow moved past you and the wind blew harder. Giyuu’s haori escaped your grasp and flew into the air.

“Watch out!” Shinazugawa’s pushed you and Uzui out of the way of a collapsing wall.

“What’s happening?!” Obanai yelled.

The wind and snow formed a spire in the air. It was as if all the forest was being drawn into it. The rubble of the mansion, the garden gate, all of it into an unrelenting spiral in front of them. Out from the ground sprouted blue petals that took shape into the form of a person. First legs, then a torso, then the arms. The figure molded and changed adding more features and then it stopped all at once. The figure fell onto the ground, covered by the haori. What remained of the spire and wreckage turned to snow that floated down around it.

You felt a tug in your heart towards it. You carefully walked over to the figure. A mass of long black hair covered its body and it began to stir. The figure sat up in shock from the ground. All its nerves and senses suddenly become aware. The chill in the air, the grass on its legs, the warm sun overhead.

It spoke in a horse voice, “The sun…I’m in the sun?”

He lifted his arms to block his eyes and was surprised to see his hands with no claws. His skin didn’t cling to his bones. He looked down at his legs, no longer hooved and covered in fur. Real legs! Human legs. Is this a dream? Was he dead?! How could the curse be broken? How is he human again?!

The raging thought we’re all silenced by a soft voice calling out. He turned to You there, just as beautiful as when you left. “(Y/N)!” He reached out to you. You took his hand, kneeling the snow next to him. This felt too good to be true. It couldn’t be him. But those eyes were Giyuu’s eyes. That was his voice. The hands that held your face were his. The warm smile that melted your heart was Giyuu.

Loud sobs left you as you hugged him. You thought if you let go, he’d disappear again. Giyuu smiled in your embrace and held you closer to him.

“I thought I lost you!” You cried.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t scare me ever again!”

“I won’t love, I promise.”

“Giyuu…”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s really funny trying to come up with an ending to a story that is literally a take as old as time. Also I truly didn’t mean to subdue Uzui so much lol.

[animalechochamber]

Did another wc design challenge! This time the white cats with blue eyes except I swapped out two cats and added Whitetail bc I love her <3

I feel like rambling on the cats so that’s under the cut for those who want to read my little design ideas and au lol (warning very long esp on mobile. My bad)

For the easier one at the top right is Icewing, current cat in ASC and also a former dark forest trainee who watched her son Beetlewhisker be killed by Brokenstar. Her design is one I’ve had in my brain for awhile and it is based off Swan Lake, with the idea of a white and black swan. Her fluffy belly is meant to sorta read as a tutu and her patches as feathers. I gave her purple eyes too bc it’s a mix of red and blue, which often are the colors for evil vs good. I have so many thoughts on her. Where’s my Icewing novella. Plz authors give us a Icewing’s Nest book (Nest bc her motherhood and in the idea of how swans get over their chicks, only for her own to die in a place she encouraged him to go. It’s also a unique name for a novella)

Now onto the bottom left. With my beloved Snowstorm (Snowfur) and her daughter, Froststorm (Whitestorm/Frostfur). Yes I know Snow didn’t live to see her kit this big but also canon Frosty isn’t transfem so just let it be alright? Transfem Whitestorm is something I thought of in a now scrapped rewrite that I cannot unravel from my brain. And I wanted to draw her momma bc she’s been a favorite of mine forever. Snowstorm has a few blue spots bc I wanted to blue from her father to show in atleast one of the sisters (since I made Blue albino) and I can imagine how she feels about her name. It fits. It’s suiting for her personality and ambitious nature. But it’s her father’s prefix, the one who never even visited them as kits, neglected her momma, left them for a cat just barely older then her- yet in her own self conscious way she can’t help but see himself in her, that same ugly storm of anger brewing in her belly that lead him to his death. In my warrior cats universe Snowstorm doesn’t die and is a spicy elder in TPB who, after his daughter talks to her, becomes a advisor to the young Fireheart. She would be pretty snippy and very much xenophobic to him at the start and probably until Tigerclaw is exiled before she starts realizing how his heart is in the clan, where he came from doesn’t matter, and what he brings to the clans culture. She was the mate of Thistleclaw for the stars sake! And despite how they’re relationship was passionate and aggressive and doomed from the start, the cat he created in that bloodthirsty monster is clear. His ways of thinking were tangled in Tigerclaw’s mind like they were in hers. How had she let him do so much damage? So she turns around. Starts growing. Tears the thorns from her pelt at last.

(Tw for a few transphobic ideas that Froststorm had placed in her by Thistleclaw)

And Froststorm- she was originally Milkkit (after the milk thistle, her dad insisted on her having a name that related to him) but after her mom is out in a coma for her first 9 moons of life she is almost entirely groomed to be her father’s son. But it didn’t feel right. She felt wrong every time he told her what to be. Not only because she had no say at all against her father but because being that warrior meant being… a tom. She wouldn’t come out till after her father died, around half a year after her being named. After her mom finally woke up by some Starclan miracle. She was weak but the cat his father had told her she was wasn’t who woke up. She was a blizzard in a cats body- powerful, swift, covering, but cool and once calmed down soft as a fresh layer of snow. The moment she opened her eyes and saw her how much her small kitten had grown she wouldn’t let go. Thistleclaw was oddly angry when she awoke. He felt the control he and over his kit slip away as she came in a plucked what he’d placed in her pelt. The two would fight. And they could never agree. It was upsetting, especially when Thistle would come to her and tell her how her mother was a stupid, selfish molly who couldn’t hold her tongue. Things he once loved about her were now faults all because they didn’t align with his view. But it also showed her that she could stand up against him. She finally went outside her direct circle and talked to a cat her dad fell out with, her aunt Rosetail. She wasn’t ever allowed to speak to her when her dad was around. He told her she was a confused tom, that she went around with soft bellies, and that she spit on starclan’s place for her. But she was nice, and kind, and so sweet it made her stomach twist. Milkpaw asked her what her father had meant by her being a “molly minded tom”- and she learned something that would change her life forever. Rosetail was originally a tom but found she was a molly at heart. Through herbs and training she was able to change what she was, transitioning. That word made her heart twist so suddenly it made her vision swim, like the stars themselves told her this was it. Her aunt wasn’t going against them, she was just righting what she was meant to be. To her aunt who she had only now gotten to talk to, she came out, and crying there wrapped in Rosetail’s hug felt like the best she had ever felt.

The day of her ceremony to be made a warrior she asked her other aunt Bluestar if maybe she could be renamed… not coming out officially to the whole clan but starting the steps to eventually. Then there at the event she was named Froststorm. Bluestar told everyone it was Starclan’s decree for her to be Frost instead and then added -storm after both her sister, being Frost’s mom, but also for the force she and become. She wasn’t a destructive one but one that would bring great rain, wash away the sick and bring in the spring, and fuel the future. Her father though would blow up, partly publicly and then far worse in private. His sudden loss of control would end with him attacking a peaceful Riverclan patrol that was just coming to discuss an agreement between the warring clans, leading in him being drowned by the enemy warrior. At last with him gone Froststorm comes out as trans. Some are happy for her, others less supportive, some a little hostile. But that didn’t matter at all to her because her family loved her as her.

Anyways transfem Whitestorm is my favorite thing ever I love her so so much <3 she would be partners with Lionheart, and with a dame, they have Cinder, Bracken, Bright, and Thorn. Though I think in this au they’d be Cinder, Bracken, Bright, and Dandelion (cuz no way in the dark forest would she name one of her kits anything CLOSE to Thistle. Nope. Also Dandelionclaw is so long it’s funny I think it’s cute). The Sorrel, Soot, Silt (Rain) litter would instead be kits of Speckletail and some sire (she wouldn’t go outside the clans. Just can’t decided and they wouldn’t be a part of the kits lives).

[hottpinkpenguin]

Omggg I just saw your requests, is it still open?

If so, could I request an angsty one-shot with P (problematic love/pleading) with "there's no happy ending for us is it?" for Loki?

Anyways no pressure and have good day 😊☺

A/N: sorry for the long delay love, my account got hacked and I took a brief hiatus. Here it is!! Enjoy, and have some tissues ready

Loki X GN!Reader

Word Count: 1339 Warnings: **heartbreak ahead**

You pulled your jacket tightly across your shoulders, the chill of the open window that had been refreshing moments before now too causing goosepimples to prickle up your neck. 

He watched you, his gaze pleading and broken. You couldn’t look at him. Your throat threatened to close in on itself, a painful lump forming in your chest as tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

“We knew this couldn’t last, Loki,” you managed to choke out. 

It was true that the two of you had gone into this with your eyes wide open. Your triste had been ill-fated from the start, and it had only gotten more complicated the longer the two of you had pretended that there was a future together. The TVA was hot on your heels in a way they’d never been before, so close you could practically feel the tickle of their breath on the back of your neck. 

He reached across the bed, grasping your hand in his. You hadn’t noticed you’d been shaking until now. He gripped your hand so tightly his knuckles turned white and your fingers pulsed with your heartbeat.

“I always thought… hoped… that we’d find a way. Somehow.” 

You stifled a sob in the sleeve of your jacket, only able to nod. You knew. You’d clung to that same hope. 

“I know.” It was all you could bring yourself to say.

His hand released yours, coming up to your chin. Gently, he pushed your head upwards, forcing your eyes to become level with his. Instincts told you to look away, but once you met his gaze you fell into him the way you always did. Laid bare, open and vulnerable, you let yourself cry as he looked at you, looked into you. It was easy, effortless. And so damn unfair that the TVA wouldn’t allow you this. The single shred of peace you’d found in all those desolate, empty timelines. Rage at the sheer injustice of it all boiled in your gut, hot enough to blister the sky above you. 

Just as you felt yourself about to burst in a flame of anger, Loki’s lips connected with yours. Heat and pressure, the two of you melted into one another. His hands snaked up the sides of your neck, your jaw, your face, tangling in your hair. It was a desperate kiss, a last gasp for air. You drank it in, greedily, not wanting to find the bottom of that kiss, not wanting to break it. It grew and grew until it was hard to tell where one of you started and the other stopped.

Then, the crescendo peaking, it began to soften. Deepen. Slow. His hands unclenched from your hair, retracing their path over your cheeks and down your neck like rain down a windowpane. As you retreated back into your bodies, you let your lips break apart for a moment here, a moment there. Cool air found its way in between you. The heat turned back to the icy cold dread that had been there before.

Loki leaned his forehead against yours, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“We could fight…” Loki’s offer died on his lips, but hung in the air like smoke. 

Temptation. You knew you could fight the TVA. With him. You knew the two of you would win too. The combination of your powers made you two the perfect weapon against the TVA. It would be over in minutes, and you’d be able to just live. No more running, no more sneaking around, no more loving with one eye cast over your shoulder. 

But you also knew what the outcome would be. With the TVA dismantled, the multiverse would descend into chaos. Timelines that never should have been would flourish, pushing out the timelines of stability, peace, and prosperity. Worlds - universes - would converge on one another like dying stars. The sheer magnitude of multiplying times would expand and expand until it bulged at the very seams of existence. And then, the cosmic bubble that housed everything that wasn’t black nothingness would pop. And life would simply cease. You’d seen it. You’d accidentally found that timeline - the one in which you and Loki fought to stay together, fought to end the TVA. You’d lived it out to the end already, a thousand times. You had tried this story a thousand times. 

A thousand other you’s had justified your choice to fight with Loki, to fight for Loki. You deserved love. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe it would be worth it.

But failed experiment after failed experiment proved you wrong. Yes, you deserved love, you just couldn’t have this love. Things would be different this time, but time is the same every time, and you can’t change time. And nothing - not even the man who made you whole - was worth the pain and destruction you’d seen. 

“We’d win, too. But we can’t. You may not know we can’t, but I do. Loki, nothing’s worth what happens. Not even this.” You reached out, resting your palm against his cheek. It was damp with tears. The light of defiance that had sparked in his eyes died as he accepted your denial. 

“There’s no happy ending for us, is there?” 

His question was barely an audible whisper, but it plucked a chord at the very center of your being. Never before, in all other timelines, had Loki asked you this. Unlike you, Loki didn’t have the ability to remember the thousands of attempts the two of you had made. In the moment just before nothingness, he always used his considerable powers to send you back. His strength and your ability to hop across timelines as if you were playing a game of galactic hopscotch made it possible, but he could never go with you. Instead, he sent you back at the moment of the end of everything. And it was always with the hope that you would convince the two of you to choose differently. And you’d failed him, time and time again. He didn’t know that, not unless you told him. Normally you didn’t tell him. Couldn’t bear to see the weight of such knowledge settle on him like so many bricks.

But you had told him, this go round. You knew from experience that doing so brought you closer to the desired outcome than anything else. If you didn’t tell him the outcome, he’d fight and rage and plead with you until you gave in. Every. Single. Time. 

This was different though. The note of understanding in his voice rang deeper than usual. You saw barely-there glimmers of memory in his eyes. Memories from the other times. Memories he shouldn’t have been able to have, and memories he probably couldn’t put into words they were so fleeting and illusory. But somehow, he knew.

“No,” you whispered back, running your thumb across his cheek. “There is no happy ending for us. This is the only ending we get.”

As if on cue, you felt the room around you crackle with electricity as an effervescent white-gold portal split the air beside the bed you were sitting on. Loki froze, but his eyes were fixed on you. You looked at him, the last few instants together beginning to tick down. You memorized his face. The curve of his cupid’s bow, the faint scar on his left cheek, the flecks of brown in his green irises, the curl of hair at his temple. You’d seen all these things so much that they felt embedded in your very DNA. 

Two TVA agents materialized out of the portal holding the glowing batons they called “time sticks” in front of their bodies. They expected you to run - both of you - and they moved quickly.

You felt the smallest burn on your right forearm as one of the timesticks connected with your jacket. As the burning sensation spread throughout your veins like wildfire, you and Loki looked into one another.

Your half-smiles were mirror images of each other as you disappeared into nothingness.

[deadlysequence]

Birthday gift for my dear @wickedbrony

I felt it slowly slipping from my hands Like grains of sand, I could not hold it… Perhaps my dreams weren’t meant to be fulfilled ‘Cause everything I wished for was gone in a moment…

In order to complete the task Of killing them, until the last Is why I was born It’s what I live for The worth of my existence = the worth of your existence? But now is not the time for second guessing!

I’m bound to you by chains we can’t escape Crying for the truth in a hopeless maze The despair we feel is spinning round and round Drowning in ideals that I can’t renounce Pathetic, so helpless just when did my resolve become so useless Oh how ridiculous! What's wrong or right? Who do I protect? Why do I fight when there’s nothing left? But if I dance in the ashes of this fallen justice that has burned to dust… You might as well lay me to rest Along with my regrets

A flowerless world colored in monochrome Where strength alone will keep you breathing I find no pleasure in our lives nor deaths Except the vibrant crimson that paints my weapon

In order to complete the task Of killing them, until the last Is why I was made It’s what I’m craving! Forget my dismal memories And empty days before me Don’t touch me with your dirty hypocrisy!!

My worthless dreams are all so far away Can’t find the meaning in these hellish days The despair we feel is spinning round and round Tangled in ideals that I can’t renounce Forget it - but I kept it and let it consume me every bit by bit It’s all so ludicrous!! Destroy them all, just destroy them all! Yet my heart still doesn’t feel full at all Though if I’m stained with the ashes of this tainted justice that has turned to rust You might as well just play the part And let me take the fall

If everything up to this day Has led us to this single fate Where you and I Must choose who dies now The words that may have meant more The warmth I always longed for Are luxuries that don’t belong in our world

My worthless dreams are all so far away Can’t find the meaning in these hellish days The despair we feel is spinning round and round Drowning in ideals that I can’t renounce Pathetic, so helpless just when did my resolve become so useless It’s all so meaningless… What's wrong or right? Who do I protect? Why do I fight when there’s nothing left? But still I cling to the ashes of This fallen justice that has burned to dust It’s all there is to my existence…

I’m bound to you by chains we can’t escape Now my blade is loose in a blinded rage My thoughts, like thunder, running in a loop And I’m struck by wonder — “what if I could choose?" To break you? Embrace you? No way to forgive but is that all there is? I cannot answer it! So who is it that you want to save? And who is it that you’ll cast away? With trembling hands I grab the crimson stained answer as I vow to end it all today The tainted clouds of our regrets Will lead us to the end

Aah, and so the story ends…

(SirHamnet - Re:Birthed English version)

[wiretchings]

memory log #84

thursday, february 13th, 2025 -- 3:08 p.m.

i worked my first shift yesterday since everything that’s happened. i didn’t really sit and think about it ahead of time, i just woke up tuesday morning and felt ready to go back. i texted sherry, “what time do you need me there tonight?” and she responded, “oh? 8 p.m. is good, i’ll be there too ^^”

it went fine, things don’t have the same vibrancy they used to right now. i think that’s on account of the trauma i’ve experienced, or whatever. i said that to elli this morning and he told me that i should think about seeing a therapist. in that moment, it felt like my mind was splintering into a dozen pieces and i almost got out of bed and walked out the door. i don’t want to fight, because i’m scared that’s going to make him leave somehow. when i said this, elliot held my face in his hands and sighed. his eyes did that thing they do when they get big and glossy, glazed over with love and sadness. 

it’s difficult to talk about these things without making him feel like he has to apologize for it. because i know he blames himself for everything, and i don’t want him to. i could have walked away at any point in time, it was my own obsession and choices that lead us here. and although i’m struggling to find peace with the static in my head and the way my hands look when i stare at my lap, i feel a wave of calm when i look over at elliot, wiping down the coffee table. ironically, i wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“i’ll think about it,” i reassured him, and his eyes soften a bit. “only because i don’t want this to result in me doing something stupid,” even though doing something stupid feels like it’s just on the horizon. it’s at my eye-line, staring me down every morning at the corner of my vision and i try my best to ignore it. 

when i came home last night, elliot was in the shower. i entered the bathroom to brush my teeth, only for him to start humming. “what are you doing?” it came out muffled from the toothpaste taking residence in my mouth. 

“just... humming a tune..” he hesitated, then continued mimicking the unknown melody. 

“you weren’t doing that when i first came in,” i spat into the sink a few times, until the water ran clean. 

“can’t a man be struck by inspiration due to his muse finally coming home?” he said in an exaggerated tone. it was silent for a moment before he suddenly broke it. “can i ask you something, dean?”

“sure, shoot.” i cleaned my toothbrush and returned it to its’ spot, next to elliot’s neon pink atrocity he calls a toothbrush. 

“so the wings...” i felt them twitch at the acknowledgement of their existence, “they work? i mean, obviously they had to have worked for you to save me that night... but did you know that was going to happen.”

i leaned against the sink, staring through the steam that had fogged up the bathroom. “honestly, i didn’t really think. i know that somewhere in the back of my mind i had remembered that my wings saved me once before when i was in danger, but that was more of an afterthought.”

elliot paused, “...so we both could have died.”

i shrugged, never having really thought about it since that day. “it was a chance i was willing to take, i guess.” 

“you’re so nonchalant about it... how very badass of you,” he chuckled, the sound of the water coming to a stop. 

“more like reckless, i put both of our lives in danger going on that walk.” the steam was beginning to clear and i tensed, realizing that elliot was possibly going to exit the shower any moment now. not that i haven’t seen him naked before, but it hasn’t happened since the first time we slept together, back in november. hazy memories of our limbs tangled together and the sweetness of sweat flicked through my mind, but nothing concrete. we were both drunk, after all. 

he stuck his head out of the shower suddenly, arm reaching out towards me. i took a step back, feeling a blush creeping across my face. elliot smiled, then motioned behind me, “could you hand me that towel?” 

i nodded silently and gave it to him, focusing only on his face when our eyes met again. “you know, when i was falling to my presumed death, all i could think about was that i was happy i joined you on that walk. i don’t think i could have lived with myself if i had to find you, i wouldn’t be able to stop myself from thinking about what could have gone differently if i were there.” he looked down, his usual wide grin replaced with a shy smile. “and regardless of the outcome, i was comforted by the fact that we were able to share that view together.” 

i didn’t know what to say, tears didn’t even have the chance to swell in my eyes, they were already rolling down my face. i was gripping the sink with my left hand and trying to wipe at my eyes with my right. elliot quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the shower, cupping my cheek and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “oh, baby... i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

still unable to get a word out, i shook my head and rested my forehead on his bare shoulder. his wet hair was dripping onto my shirt, causing it to stick to my back. i began to sob, completely unable to control my body at this point. he took me in his arms and held me tightly, and i didn’t care how uncomfortable the wetness of his body felt pressed against mine. 

after i was done crying, i helped him dry his hair and applied the ointment his doctor prescribed him onto his left eye. as i was taping a fresh piece of gauze over the wound, he began stroking my hair. “sweet thing,” he whispered. 

we didn’t talk much after that, we were both tapped out emotionally and went straight to bed. i drifted from consciousness with my forehead pressed against his chest, swept away by the rhythm of his heartbeat. in the morning, i woke him by peppering kisses along his temple, down to his collarbone. when elliot’s eyes fluttered open, he looked at me with a confused look on his face, cheeks flushed. “good morning...?” 

“morning,” i leaned in to kiss him deeply and he reciprocated, pulling away gently with an arch in his eyebrow. 

“i thought you didn’t want... this..” he waited for a response.

“well, i’m not very interested in receiving... but i can be generous sometimes,” i grinned, hiding my face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. “how do you feel?” i murmured into his deep red curls. 

elliot grabbed my face, his eyes bright with excitement. “of course,” he kissed me briefly, “let’s make this a morning to remember!”

i shoved him and laughed, before lacing our fingers together and nodding against his forehead. i leaned in for another kiss, then another, then another. 

[fireflydreamswithadragonflypulse]

the story of us--part 3.

you take the breath out of my lungs, can't even fight it. and all of the words out of my mouth without even trying, and i'm speechless. sometimes when i look at her, i lose all words. i can be mid-sentence and still, i'd lose my train of thought and just stare back at her...she draws me in and i can't resist. in this world where nothing else is true, here i am, still tangled up in you. it doesn't matter what else is happening, she is my first thought in the morning, the last at night, and every thought in between. now i'm defenseless, i'm falling in endless love. i feel like i've been falling for her for years. no matter if we were together or not, the universe was preparing me for her love, her everything. and even now, i find myself falling in endless love with her, every minute of every single day. i could make you happy, make your dreams come true. nothing that i wouldn't do, go to the ends of the earth for you, to make you feel my love. there is nothing i wouldn't do to make her happy. she deserves so much happiness and love and all of the good things, and i'll do whatever it takes to ensure that she gets it all, until the end of our days. pretty good at being wrong for my whole life, but with you, i know there's one thing i got right. it doesn't matter what's in my past, what's in her past. all that matters is her. us. we. our life. our love. that's the one thing that i've done right in this life. on days when it feels like the whole world might cave in, stand side by side and you'll make it. she's the best thing that you'll ever have, she'll love you if you love her like that. i can't imagine anyone else standing beside me on the bad days. she's proven she's it. the universe chose her and delivered, and i wholeheartedly believe that she is the best thing that i'll ever have. my one. my only. my everything. my all. i'm drunk on your voice, high on the moment. i'd fall for you twice, if that's what you wanted. i'd give you my life from now till forever, i'm falling in love with you over and over again. her voice gets me every time. i could listen to her talk 24/7, 365 and never tire of it, like my favorite melody in my ears. and i would most definitely, and do, fall for her daily...daily there's a reason i've got this smile on my face and it's her, as i free fall into forever with her. 'cause a fire never starts without a spark, and baby, you're my spark. 'cause i saw love, love, love in your eyes. you stole my heart and i don't mind. she ignited this spark within me that i never had a clue was even there. things i want for my life that i never wanted before, never imagined. all because when i looked into her eyes for the first time, i saw a movie of the way my life was supposed to be, the love i deserve, the love i fucking want more than anything, now that i have her. take my hand, take my whole life too. for i can't help falling in love with you. i couldn't stop falling for her if i tried. but i don't want to do that. i don't want to feel anything but this, but her, for the rest of my days. i have died every day waiting for you. darling, don't be afraid, i have loved you for a thousand years, i'll love you for a thousand more. i swear, i know i've said this a thousand times, but i do feel like i've loved her, known her, for a thousand years. we've loved each other before and we'll continue loving each other in each universe. a love like this doesn't die after one lifetime. i'm forever yours, faithfully. i'll never understand how she was single, how she wanted me. but she did. she does. and i'm forever entangled in her soul, in her heart. i'm right there at the tip of her tongue, just waiting to hear my name roll off of it. that's my favorite sound. lonely rivers sigh, "wait for me, wait for me." i'll be coming home, wait for me. home. with her. i can't wait to be there, in my home. my comfort, my love, my happiness. my everything.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a piece of cake

© @jamesbrnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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[morganas-pendragons]

Caress | The Master Chief

This is loosely based on a plot I have already created for an OC, but I thought I’d write it in fic form for a reader. This reader for Game!John has an entire backstory.. but they are a Spartan 3 and Carter’s sibling, the sole survivor of the glassing of Reach! If you’re curious to know more, drop an ask! 

summary: the master chief wakes up after six months of being MIA and finds out what happened in his absence. you deal with the aftermath. 

tag: @embarrassedauthornerd​ and @lialacleaf​

spoilers for halo infinite if you haven’t played it! 

*** 

The Beginning - Halo 5 

  “You should tell them, Chief. I would. God knows how much time we have left with her and her Guardians trying to provoke a galactic apocalypse.” 

John turned away from Fred and toward the Temple doorway where he could just barely see your form lingering on the edge of the cliff outside. Fingers tangling in his dogtags, he exchanged a quiet thanks with his childhood best friend and began walking to the cliffs of Sanghelios. 

You peered up at him as he stood over your shoulder and smiled. 

John had never thought himself capable of loving someone. Blue Team was different. They were together - one unit, one mind - since childhood, and they would be until they all died.

With you though.. you had been placed with him because of Cortana, who had gone to her grave believing you would be the best thing for a soldier like John. That you, a Spartan 3 who hadn't asked for this, would teach him something she couldn't.

It had taken a while.. but you did.

You were sitting on the edge of the cliffside, kicking your legs back and forth as you peered outward at the horizon. He tentatively took a seat in the dirt beside you. "John." You said softly, tilting your head upward at him as you lightly tapped his face plate. "Can we take this off?"

Can you just be with me as you? And not The Master Chief?

That was what Cortana had taught him after all of these years. That being human wasn’t a curse. That feeling things, experiencing them, was okay. It was hard to teach your brain a contradiction to everything you’d ever come to learn in your life. 

He’d do it though. If allowing himself these few precious moments of time they didn't have to experience human things like the warmth of the sun on his skin and the caress of your fingers at his jaw, he'd do it.

You were always worth it. Everything. If only you knew how far he’d go for you. 

The End..

It’s hard to remember your purpose and reason for being here when everything is warped by the smell of smoke and the sound of gunfire. You vaguely remembered a new Cortana model, manipulating Cortana, prompting deletion with her capture... 

And now you were on the Infinity and everything the UNSC had been building over the last four years was crashing at your feet. 

Everything is on fire. There are Unggoy and Kig-Yar everywhere, and you are just beginning to make a dent in the remains of their attack squadron when John goes flying sideways and into the nearest Warthog. Or what's left of it.

The glow of red tells you enough. That's a gravity hammer. You've very narrowly avoided death by one of those multiple times, and you are quite familiar with how excruciating it is.

If you knew how you were going to die... how would you live your life differently?

You absolutely refused to give into the Banished. You had gone this long after the glassing of Reach - despite being The Master Chief's partner and seemingly witnessing the end of everything you ever came to know - and it would not be a Brute Chieftain that took you down now.

Lucky for you, Atriox had other plans for John.

The man you loved was being dragged like a rag doll across the hangar floor, helpless to do anything to fight off Atriox. He was bigger. Stronger.

This was his first loss in so, so long.

But watching as you launched yourself at Atriox after he'd thrown John off the Infinity and into the vacuum of space was so much worse. He was supposed to protect you. To take care of you, to love you in the way you'd spent so long loving him.

"You have no idea how far I'd go for you, John."

The last thing John remembers before the darkness swallows him whole is your face as you wrench the War Chieftain backward and into the flames of Infinity's remains.

After John Falls

The Pilot is not a soldier. He's not even an actual pilot, mind you, but he is forced to become one when a Spartan clad in blue and black armor goes flying into the windows of the Pelican he's been occupying for the last twenty minutes and crumples just beneath the nose.

A shaky hand shot out to grip the pistol he'd stolen from the hangar bay before he crept down the ramp, sprinting around the corner to find you laying unmoving underneath the Pelican.

Your fingers were loosely wound a weapon that happened to look alot like a disengaged energy sword.

"Spartans, damned Spartans..." Fernando didn't know who you were, much less why you were injured, but he did know from the whispers in Engineering that most of the remaining Spartan-IV's had been taken out by Cortana. He'd seen Master Chief fall at Atriox's hand. He wasn't about to let one he could save die too. "You're lucky I need a way to get home..."

The last thing you remembered was the sight of John, helpless and alone, as Atriox threw him through the shields surrounding Infinity's docking and out into the void.

Month One After The End

You learned very, very quickly that once you told The Pilot you were The Master Chief's partner that he was interested to obtain as much information about you as possible.

Literally anything he could get his hands on.

Including your romantic life.

  “Wait... wait, go back. You said you’re his partner?” 

  “In a literal and a romantic sense, yes. Did the lack of socialization with anyone else but me make you lose a few brain cells, Echo?” 

You leaned forward and laughed as the Pilot narrowed his eyes at you. The two of you had been on your own for one month now - a lone Spartan and their pilot - and had just barely escaped the destruction of the UNSC and the Infinity with your lives to spare. 

The others hadn’t been so lucky... including John. 

The Pilot had found you injured in the aftermath of the fight with Atriox and dragged you onto his Pelican before making a hasty retreat from the remains of the Infinity. Lasky had ordered most of the crew to abandon ship by then, and you were too delirious to realize what had happened to your Spartan. 

Your Spartan. The one man who had been by your side since you’d left Reach, the one who had outlived everyone else you loved, the one who had only just confessed how he felt about you after Cortana had unleashed her Guardians on the galaxy. 

The imprint of your presence sits marked into a cliff on Sanghelios. You’re not sure it will ever forget the words that were whispered there. 

  “I have a difficult time believing that the person I saved from certain death is a Spartan Three and the partner of The Master Chief!” He exclaimed.

To further prove your point, you reached into the collar of your flight suit and removed dogtags to show them to him. It had been one of John’s last confessions before everything had seemingly gone to hell. One of the last things you had of him. 

He gaped at you as you tilted the metal tags upward so he could read the enscription. 

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 

You smirked proudly and tucked them back into your flight suit. “Believe me now?” 

Month Six

You cocked your head in confusion and turned away from cleaning your Mjolnir MK VII armor to acknowledge the faint glow of a holo blinking in the center of the bay.

Kneeling down, you frowned as you scooped up the holo device and clicked the side button to play the recording. It flickered to life - barely containing enough battery to play it - and revealed a young mother and her child.

"My wife." Fernando called out. Your gaze softened as you met the Pilot's forlorn, anguished gaze. "And my child." You knew that look. It was the same look you'd given him when you'd first woken up after The Infinity had gone down. He had just wanted to go home.. and he didn't even know if home existed anymore. "I thought I had that secured in the cockpit. I'm sorry."

You laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and opened your mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the Pelican's AI.

Signal detected. Tag designation: Friendly.

You froze. There hadn't been a signal detected in months. No enemies, no friendlies. You had been careful to avoid Banished craft and had educated The Pilot on evasive maneuvers and classification of Banished clans months ago so he at least had some knowledge of what you would inevitably come up against.

"Y/N...."

"Come on."

Echo took to the comms while you wiped away the frost that had been growing on the windshield. Just outside of your reach was a prone Spartan, your Spartan, donned in Mjolnir Mark VII armor that was clearly in survival mode.

Your breath caught in your throat. That was him. Alive. He's alive.

"Help me get him inside!" You exclaimed frantically.

It took a considerable amount of effort to drag the Mjolnir inside of the Pelican, but you were familiar enough with the mechanics of the armor to know exactly what had happened when John had been thrown into space.

"Main power cells are fried, Noble." Echo called out. "Armor's shut down.. looks like survival mode." You nodded and motioned for him to continue. "I'm going to try to override it."

You were rocking eagerly on your heels in anticipation, fingers curled at your sides as you tried and failed to ease the trembling of your fingers. You'd spent the last six months thinking over every single what if scenario that could have kept John from such a terrible death.

Every single night, you'd stared out at the stars and prayed to whatever Gods existed in this universe to bring him home to you. You'd spent too much of your life since Reach had been glassed with him. You weren't willing to be a lone wolf.

Not anymore. It's not what your brother would've wanted for you.

"Be careful." You teased gently. "Don't electrocute yourself."

Sparks flew from the connections in his hands as power circulated through the network and turned both the Mjolnir armor and the power within the Pelican back online.

You held your breath and waited, ignorant of Fernando's elated cheering as The Master Chief finally woke up from a six month sebatical.

***

The first thing John noticed when he woke up was that it wasn't cold anymore. His dreams had been mostly pleasant, memories of your time with Blue Team and the cliffs of Sanghelios fresh in his mind as he drifted among the stars.

"You have no idea how far I'd go for you, John."

His HUD blinked to life. Powering Up.

"It looks like there's a problem with the servos in your hands. Try moving it."

You slowly moved forward to close the gap between yourself and John as he opened his hand, revealing the empty AI chip Cortana used to occupy. Your chest constricted as the Spartan finally tilted his face plate up and met your gaze through his visor for the first time in six months.

And for the first time since Fernando had rescued you, it finally felt like things were beginning to make more sense again.

"Echo," You call out over your shoulder, closing your hand over his own as he digs through the nearest UNSC container for the machine meant to check the diagnostics on Spartan armor. "Can you give The Master Chief and I a moment, please?"

You didn't need to ask him twice. The Pilot ceased his search immediately and disappeared behind the closed doors to the cockpit.

In the time it took him to do that, John disconnected himself from the power resupply to his armor and moved forward as you simultaneously moved backward.

"Status report."

Your eyes narrowed, but there was no malice in them. "Oh no, old man." You teased lightly as you tapped his face plate, a silent signal of your intentions. "You don't get to pull rank on me right now. I haven't been a Spartan in six months." You motioned behind you to the dormant Mjolnir armor you'd been given only a few years prior, the blue and black paint freshly redone after what had occurred on the Infinity. The only portion you hadn't refreshed was the Noble Team insignia you'd demanded upon obtaining the armor. "I haven't taken or given orders in six months either. Right now, I'm just Y/N. Like you are just John."

That didn't make sense to him. Being just John was not something he was allowed to do. He was a soldier. He was meant to fight.

You tapped his face plate again. Be with me as just John. And truth be told, he would've been lying if he said he hadn't missed something as simple as your caress against his skin. The way you hadn't cringed at the sight of the scars he'd gotten over the years, but had simply marveled over them as he whispered the stories behind each one to you.

He tipped his head forward at your complete and total mercy.

Only the technicians and the other Spartans knew how to remove the armor and the helmet. Your fingers expertly slid under the lip of the helmet, disengaging the seals and slowly lifting it off to set it on the row of seats to your right.

Weary blue eyes met your own.

"There you are." You said quietly. Without your own armor you stood several inches shorter then him, so you balanced yourself on the tips of his boots and steadied your hands against his shoulders to press your forehead to his own. "I missed you, John."

It was always quiet confessions between the two of you.

John shuddered and gripped the fabric of your flight suit tightly in his gloved fingers - finally allowing all of the emotion he'd carefully compartmentalized since the last time he'd seen Cortana to rise to the surface - as you slowly began to kiss whatever skin you could reach. His forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, that soft spot where his jaw met his ear. 

His face grew warm as he simply just allowed himself to revel in this one precious moment of being loved and loving equally in return.

Given that John was never a man of words but of actions, he halted your ministrations and shakily curled his thumb and index finger underneath to tilt your eyes upward to meet his.

That was the only thing John was ever really afraid of. Blue Team... losing one of us.

You parted your lips on a silent gasp as you locked eyes with his, waiting for whatever move he was planning on making next. "Tell me it's going to be okay," He said quietly, almost so quietly that you nearly didn't hear what he said. "Cortana-"

You pressed a finger to his lips and shook your head as you swiped your thumbs under his eyes. Cortana's loss had broken him. You knew it, he knew it, and both of you had mourned her in your own way. But you refused to abandon him in one of his most dire times of need. Times where he needed you to help him through it.

Your own grieving could wait. It had after Reach, it could wait again.

"It's all going to be okay, John." You replied. He nodded and dipped his head down to capture your lips with his own in a slow, deliberate kiss. You knew why. He was desperately trying to maintain his grasps on something familiar and comforting before facing the reality outside of that Pelican.

He smelled and tasted exactly the same, made those same little broken sounds he always did when you deepened your kiss and pulled away breathless and wide eyed.

It was one of the few times during the last 7 years together you could recall seeing remnants of what little innocence he had left.

You smiled and cradled his face in your hands. You had only heard him tell you he loved you once, but you had learned a long time ago that he often didn’t need to say it in order for you to understand. It was a silent language between you both that had been established years ago on a ship called The Pillar of Autumn. 

Funny how far you’d come since then. 

A soft knock sounded on the doors behind you. Clearly The Pilot had something he needed to say. 

Before you could call out for him to come in, John stopped you mid-movement and bent his head to kiss the crown of your own before slipping his helmet back on and resuming his role as Master Chief. 

You knew what it meant. It was always the silent I-Love-You’s that were the most memorable. 

*** 

On the fragments of a broken ring named Zeta Halo, the last two Spartans roam with their AI to eradicate The Banished and rebuild what remains of their lives. Of their home. Atriox and Escharum had already taken everything from you. But unknown to them, you bounce back. 

And Spartans never really die. 

They’re just missing in action. 

How unfortunate for them.  

[hopelesshawks]

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[aerltarg]

Jon Snow Month 2022

Day 14: Arya Stark

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face. “Septa Mordane will take it away from me.”

“Not if she doesn’t know you have it,” Jon said.

“Who will I practice with?”

“You’ll find someone,” Jon promised her. “King’s Landing is a true city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do…”

Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.

“…don’t… tell… Sansa!”

Jon messed up her hair. “I will miss you, little sister.”

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?” He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. “I better go. I’ll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer.”

Arya ran to him for a last hug. “Put down the sword first,” Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.

When he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance. “I almost forgot,” he told her. “All the best swords have names.”

“Like Ice,” she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. “Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.”

“Can’t you guess?” Jon teased. “Your very favorite thing.”

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:

“Needle!”

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. (Jon II, AGOT)

[...] And Arya… he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had… yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him. (Jon III, AGOT)

Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? (Jon III, ASOS)

“[...] Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son’s wedding to…” His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father.

“Lord Snow?” Clydas peered at him closely with his dim pink eyes. “Are you… unwell? You seem…”

“He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him.

“Your sister,” Iron Emmett said, “how old is…”

By now she’d be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. “I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you.” Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton’s throat as easily. (Jon VI, ADWD)

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart. He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. (Jon VI, ADWD)

“The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.”

“I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?”

“Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly…”

“… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.” (Jon VI, ADWD)

[...] Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me. (Jon VII, ADWD)

A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from her marriage. On the strength of those words he had loosed Mance Rayder and six spearwives on the north. “Young ones, and pretty,” Mance had said. The unburnt king supplied some names, and Dolorous Edd had done the rest, smuggling them from Mole’s Town. It seemed like madness now. He might have done better to strike down Mance the moment he revealed himself. Jon had a certain grudging admiration for the late King-Beyond-the-Wall, but the man was an oathbreaker and a turncloak. He had even less trust in Melisandre. Yet somehow here he was, pinning his hopes on them. All to save my sister. But the men of the Night’s Watch have no sisters. (Jon VII, ADWD)

[...] “M’lord, you’re wanted. Beg pardon, m’lord. A girl’s been found.”

“A girl?” Jon sat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hands. “Val? Has Val returned?”

“Not Val, m’lord. This side of the Wall, it were.”

Arya. Jon straightened. It had to be her.

[...]

A grey girl on a dying horse. Melisandre’s fires had not lied, it would seem. But what had become of Mance Rayder and his spearwives? “Where is the girl now?”

“Maester Aemon’s chambers, m’lord.” The men of Castle Black still called it that, though by now the old maester should be warm and safe in Oldtown. “Girl was blue from the cold, shivering like all get out, so Ty wanted Clydas to have a look at her.”

“That’s good.” Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. (Jon IX, ADWD)

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. She won’t be safe, though. Winterfell is burned and broken and there are no more safe places.

He could not keep her here with him, no matter how much he might want to. (Jon IX, ADWD)

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. (Jon X, ADWD)

[...] He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister? Or were you just a ploy he used so I would set him free?

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he’d had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. (Jon XI, ADWD)

“A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady. Where is Stannis? What of Rattleshirt and his spearwives? Where is my sister?” (Jon XIII, ADWD)

[...] He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell… I want my bride back… I want my bride back… I want my bride back…

“I think we had best change the plan,” Jon Snow said. (Jon XIII, ADWD)

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold… (Jon XIII, ADWD)

“A shade more exhausting than needlework,” Jon observed.

“A shade more fun than needlework,” Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. (Arya I, AGOT)

She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her. (Arya II, AGOT)

She went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they'd return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so alone. (Arya II, AGOT)

Lord Eddard Stark sighed. “My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household. How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?”

Arya chewed her lip and said nothing. She would not betray Jon, not even to their father. (Arya II, AGOT)

“I says, come.” He grabbed her arm, hard.

Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.

She stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strength. (Arya IV, AGOT)

A whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she'd played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She would have given anything if Jon had been here to call her “little sister” and muss her hair. (Arya V, AGOT)

“Lumpyhead,” corrected Lommy. “He prob'ly stole it.”

“I did not!” she shouted. Jon Snow had given her Needle. Maybe she had to let them call her Lumpyhead, but she wasn't going to let them call Jon a thief. (Arya I, ACOK)

She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon... but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She'd tell him, “I missed you,” and he'd say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything. (Arya I, ACOK)

They talked over her as she lay hurting, but Arya could not seem to understand the words. Her ears rang. When she tried to crawl off, the earth moved beneath her. They took Needle. The shame of that hurt worse than the pain, and the pain hurt a lot. Jon had given her that sword. Syrio had taught her to use it. (Arya V, ACOK)

She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers. (Arya I, ASOS)

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him. She wondered if he would still call her “little sister.” I'm not so little anymore. He'd have to call me something else. Maybe once she got to Riverrun she could write Jon a letter and tell him what Ned Dayne had said. (Arya VIII, ASOS)

She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He'll call me “little sister” and muss my hair. (Arya XII, ASOS)

Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. (Arya I, AFFC)

She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goosefleshed and shivering in the fog. In her hand, Needle seemed to whisper to her. Stick them with the pointy end, it said, and, don't tell Sansa! Mikken's mark was on the blade. It's just a sword. If she needed a sword, there were a hundred under the temple. Needle was too small to be a proper sword, it was hardly more than a toy. She'd been a stupid little girl when Jon had it made for her. “It's just a sword,” she said, aloud this time...

... but it wasn't.

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. (Arya II, AFFC)

She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad. (The Blind Girl, ADWD)

[pappydaddy]

Oblivious (r.b.)

A/N: Another request down! This one is another Robin request. It's a bit longer than the last one I posted, but it's a bit dry unfortunately. I tried to make it like my other longer fics, but I just felt like this is was meant to be this length. I threw in a funny scene in the end. Anywho, I hope you like it lovely anon💛, I really tried to do your request justice (I loved it btw).

P.S: Not proofread yet. I'm gonna go over all my fics in these upcoming fics to proofread and I will do this fic then

TV Show/Movie: Stranger Things

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Byers!Reader

Stranger Things/Robin Taglist: N/A

Requested

Warnings: Fluff, a parent being obvious, getting caught getting hot and heavy the backseat. Pretty short in length.

Note: Not proofread yet. I'm gonna go over all my fics in these upcoming fics to proofread and I will do this fic then

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - my gif -

The cool night breeze rolled in through Y/N Byers’ open window as she and Robin laid in her bed. Late Summer nights spent in bed with her girlfriend were Y/N’s favourite. Having their legs tangled together, their arms holding each other close as they lightly traced random shapes on each other. It was true bliss in her eyes. “You think your mom is back with the movie yet?” Robin broke the comfortable silence with a whisper. Y/N shrugged, pulling her hand away from where it was playing with Robin’s short hair.

“We would have heard her car so probably not,” She answered, shifting as she propped her elbow up. Robin automatically rolled onto her back, gazing up at Y/N with big blue eyes that sparkled in the silver moonlight, the sounds of frogs and crickets filling the silent room again as they enjoyed the company of each other. “Steve is probably taking forever to lock up the store and she’s probably waiting for him to leave so we don’t start without him.” She hypothesized, looking down at Robin again.

Robin hummed, nodding as she pictured Steve fumbling around with his keys, trying each one to figure out which one locked the store door. “He can never remember which key goes to what. We should get him a label maker so he can label them.” She suggested making Y/N snort out a laugh, flopping on her back, untangling themselves from each other completely.

“Are we really going to be that couple that gives friends stationary for presents,” She asked, lulled her head to the side to gaze at Robin who shrugged, pulling a face that asked her why they couldn’t be. “Because those couples are the boring couple that never get invited to any parties people actually want to have fun at.” She answered Robin’s silent question.”

“Fair point.” Robin agreed just as Y/N’s bedroom door opened. The two girls pulled themselves up, looking at the door as Joyce popped her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt girls night, but Steve is here with the movies and I got the snacks, come on out to the living room.” She told them, leaving the door open as she disappeared down the hall, getting Jonathan from his room. Silently, the girls rolled off Y/N’s bed and shuffled out into the living room, being greeted by Steve and Will placing bowls of chips and popcorn on the coffee table that already had a display of soda and water sitting on it.

“Hey, Dingus,” Robin greets Steve as she brushed past him to sit on the couch. “Will.” She nodded at the younger boy, slapping hands with him in a greeting as he sat beside her.

“Hi, Robin.” Steve breathed out, taking a seat in the armchair, cracking open a can of soda, taking a drink. Y/N stepped over his sprawled-out legs, plunking herself down on the other side of Robin, her feet kicking up to rest on her lap comfortably.

“Where are the other kids?” Y/N wondered, looking over her shoulder at Steve as he sat his open soda down, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Dustin is sick, Max is busy being grounded, Lucas is sulking being Max is grounded, and Mike is at a family dinner with his grandparents,” Steve listed off the location of each kid easily. Making Robin laugh. “What?” Steve asked with furrowed brows as he grabbed a chip, crunching on it instantly before wiping his hands on his jeans, bouncing his knee.

“Oh nothing, it’s just that you’re such a mom.” Robin made fun of him, her hands resting on Y/N’s ankles as Joyce walked back in with Jonathan in tow looking like he just woke up from a nap, the pair sitting on the other couch.

“So, Steve,” Joyce started, reaching for two sodas, handing one to Jonathan. Robin reached over, collecting three and placed them in her lap. “What movie is first?” She asked as Y/N and Will each plucked a can from Robin’s lap, opening them at the same time, both cans hissing loudly.

“Have no idea, let Will pick-”

“Rawhead Rex!” Will interrupted excitedly, shocking Joyce since she obviously hadn’t picked that one up.

“Wiliam Byers, did you pick that up without me knowing?”

“No, please, I don’t like scary movies!” Joyce and Y/N said at the same time.

“Which is exactly why I didn’t pick any scary movies, mister.” Joyce told Will in a semi-scolding manner.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll protect you from the scary movie.” Robin looked over at her, her tone somewhat teasingly. Joyce cooed at this, tilting her head slightly.

“Aw, you two are so cute together,” She sighed longingly. “Wish I had had someone like that in high school.”

____

“I’m heading out for a date mom,” Y/N announced as she walked down the hall from her room, slinging her purse over her shoulder. Joyce opened her bedroom door, popping her head out just as Y/N was about to walk past, scarring her daughter. “Jesus mom,” She exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest as her heart tried to calm down. “You scared me! I thought you were in the kitchen!”

“Sorry dear,” She apologized, opening her door all the way and stepping out of her room all dressed up. Y/N furrowed her brows at her mom’s appearance. She was awfully dressy for a night home alone. Parting her lips as she followed her mother into the living room, she went to say something but Joyce interrupted. “You said you were going on a date, but I don’t see a car.” She pointed out as she looked out the window.

“I’m actually driving tonight.” Y/N explained before opening her mouth the ask her mother about her plans for the night.

“How progressive,” Joyce smiled, turning to face her daughter again, clasping her hands together. “I love a good feminist moment, you have fun on your date and tell me all about it when you get home.”

“So I can have the car,” Y/N asked tentatively. She had assumed that her mother would take the night to relax as this would be the first night in years she has to be home alone. Joyce nodded, looking at her daughter oddly as she tossed the car keys towards her from the bowl by the door. “You don’t have plans? You seem like you do.” Y/N pressed, not wanting to ruin her mother’s plans.

“Oh, I do have plans, I have a date.” Joyce confirmed as if it was nothing. Y/N sputtered, taken aback by this information and how nonchalantly her mother just disclosed it. She watched her mother walk into the kitchen as if it was any other day.

“If you have a date then you need the car, I’ll figure out how to work around not having a car right now-” Y/N rushed into the kitchen behind her, holding the keys out to Joyce who shook her head, pushing her hand away and cutting her off.

“No, I don’t need the car, he’s picking me up here, you go on your date with the car and have fun!” Joyce told her, grabbing Y/N’s shoulders and forcing her to turn around.

“But, this is your first date since Bob died. Do you want me to stay home in case you need to bail? What if something goes wrong and you can’t reach me or Hopper? What if this guy is secretly a mad scientist connected to the Upside Down? What if he’s just a horrible person-” Y/N rambled, fighting against her mother’s hold as she pushed her towards the door.

“Trust me, Y/N,” Joyce started, opening the front door as Y/N continued to ramble off scenarios that could possibly go wrong. “None of that is going to be an issue. I know this guy, you know this guy. He is perfectly safe and I will be fine. Besides, this isn’t even our first date.”

“Mom-” She tried to say something but was cut off by her own mother all but pushing her out of the house. She let out a shriek, stumbling along the porch.

“Go on your date, Y/N and don’t come back until your date is finished.” Joyce warned, closing and locking the front door. Her face was glaring at Y/N through one of the small windows at the top of their door, almost daring her not to go on the date. Huffing, Y/N turned on her heel and headed off to the car.

____

Joyce’s mysterious date had been pushed into the back of Y/N’s mind the second she saw Robin open her front door. Now, it wasn’t even a thought in her head, all her mind could focus on was the way she felt as Robin’s lips traced down her neck, pecking and sucking as they went. Airy moans left her mouth as she squirmed under her girlfriend, her nearly bare back rubbing against the cold backseat of the car. “Oh god-” She whimpered as Robin’s lips travelled lower, dancing dangerously along the cup of her bra, her fingertips just barely slipping under the underwire. “Oh god!” She gasped when her eyes fluttered open after seeing the flash of red and blue hues on her eyelids.

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” Robin pulled her lips from Y/N breast, looking up at her flirtatiously thinking her exclamation was from pleasure, not fear. Her face fell when she noted the wideness of Y/N’s eyes and flashing lights reflecting off her glistening face.

“That’s fucking Hopper,” Y/N hissed as they both scrambled to sit up, Y/N’s arms crossed over her bra-clad chest. They both tried to squint through the fogged-up back windshield, seeing two figures getting out of the car, the beam of a flashlight clicking on. “Shit, where is my shirt?” She panicked, looking around until Robin threw it at her.

“Duck,” Robin pushed Y/N and herself down as the beam of the flashlight swept over the back window. Grunting, Y/N tried to wiggle around and pull the shirt over her head as Robin watched the beam of light. “He’s looking in the woods, let’s crawl out the front seats!” Robin ushered her, letting her crawl over the console first.

“Something tells me we’re not gonna make it to the front seat,” Y/N trailed off as her eyes squinted at the brightness of the flashlight pointed right at her through the driver’s side window. “Hi, Hop,” She smiled, waving awkwardly. In response, Hopper simply pulled the backseat door open, revealing Joyce standing there, looking confused. “Mom, what are you doing here? I thought you were out on a date?” Y/N froze, her knee digging uncomfortably into the middle console.

“I am on my date, we were heading to the restaurant after the movie when we saw the car looking abandoned.” Joyce explained.

“Your date was with Hopper? You’re dating Hopper?” Y/N asked, shocked as she crawled out of the backseat, Robin following closely.

“You didn’t know that?” Robin asked her as if it was obvious.

“No!”

“Your date was with Robin?” Joyce ignored the two girls, her brows furrowed.

“You didn’t know they were dating?” Hopper looked at Joyce as he pointed his finger at the pair.

“No idea.” Joyce shook her head.

“You two are really oblivious. Everyone knew both of these things,” Hopper informed them with a laugh, earning two glares from Y/N and Joyce. “Well, anyway, we’ve got a reservation-”

“Wait,” Joyce interrupted him. “I thought you guys were just friends-” Joyce pointed to Y/N and Robin who both shrugged sheepishly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked her daughter, slightly embarrassed for not realizing and a bit let down that she didn’t tell her.

“I thought you knew.”

“Well, now that I do know, I want to get to know Robin as your girlfriend so would you guys like to accompany us to our dinner reservations?” Joyce asked, her eyes wide as she hoped her daughter would say yes. She always knew that she liked girls, but she had no idea they were dating.

“Only if I get to drill Hopper with questions to make sure he’s good enough for you.” Y/N playfully glared at Hopper, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Deal.” Joyce nodded firmly.

[extasiswings]

Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️

OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—

“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”

“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”

That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”

Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.

“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—

Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—

Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—

The thing is.

The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.

And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—

But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.

That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.

Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—

Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.

So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—

Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.

The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.

Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.

“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.

Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.

“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”

Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.

“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.

*

Recovery is slow.

Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.

Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.

Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.

Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.

She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.

“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”

Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.

“A little of both,” he admits.

“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”

“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—

She hums.

“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”

Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”

Recovery. He makes a face.

But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.

Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—

Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.

He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.

“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”

Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”

Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.

“What do you need?”

Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

You. Just you. Always you.

“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”

I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.

“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”

“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”

“Well…”

Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.

Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.

So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.

“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.

“I think we should.”

It ends as quickly as it began.

*

Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.

He knows where he’ll end up.

Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—

There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.

He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—

Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.

So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?

Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?

“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—

“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.

“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.

“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”

Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—

Oh.

Blind spots.

He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.

Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.

“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.

If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.

“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”

“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”

“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.

Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”

Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.

Kissing him feels like coming home.