#again he's reminded of everyone he lost. the last time he worked alongside soldiers he could trust was in vietnam with baker team

[trashcanalienist]

Rambo III (1988)

[itsapeterthing]

Lovers’ Quarrel || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x rogers!reader

summary: when you married your brother’s best friend in 1941, the two of you had always promised to stick together and you did just that- even following him to wakanda where you trained alongside the dora milaje. When you find out that bucky’s released zemo from prison behind your back... needless to say you’re pissed.

a/n: okay i absolutely loved this request so much @missroro​. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, reader and bucky fighting

masterlist || request || taglist

You were pissed to say the least.

You couldn’t understand why your husband would keep something so big such a secret from you. You had spent seventy years in ice for those you loved. You had become a super soldier for those you loved. You had spent two years off the grid in hiding for those you loved... and your husband couldn’t even tell you the truth? You would have tried to understand- helped him even- but he had chosen instead to keep you in the dark, leaving you to find out about his actions second hand from those who felt just as betrayed as you.

As you stood in the threshold of the room, spotting the five men, you could feel almost nothing but rage coursing through your veins. The tension was so thick in the room, you swore you could cut it with a knife... but you decided that a spear would do.

Throwing your arm back and tossing the spear forward, you watched as it stuck itself into the column between Sam and John Walker- the man posing as your brother.

When the spear collided with the wall, everyone’s eyes immediately snapped onto you and you could of sworn it almost felt good to watch the fear in your husband and Sam’s eyes when they spotted you, knowing just by the look on your face that they had messed up... and you weren’t one to let things like that slide.

“Y/n-” Bucky began.

With a straight face you turned your head to the side, unable to look at him, instead turning your attention to the Dora Milaje as they entered the apartment.

“Even if he is a means to your end... time’s up.” Ayo spoke in Xhosa before switching to English. “Release him to us now.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes burning into you, but you remained steadfast, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

“Hi. John Walker.” The new Cap attempted to introduce himself. “Captain America.”

Although you were enraged beyond compare upon finding out that the government had chosen a new man to take your brother’s place, you almost wanted to laugh at how poorly he was handling the situation.

When neither of the two women in front of him said anything, he continued.

“Well , uh.” John said. “Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?”

God, he was handling this poorly, wasn’t he? You would find it funny if he wasn’t so incredibly ignorant.

“Hey, John, take it easy.” Sam said looking between you and the two other women in the room. “You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.” John insisted.

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

Rather than standing to the side and allowing the group of skilled warriors to take what- or rather who- they wanted and leave, Walker couldn’t help but instigate.

As soon as his hand landed on Ayo’s shoulder, you knew he would regret that decision.

Immediately the two women began fighting- one taking on John Walker and the other Lemar. You had known the women long enough to know that they could handle the situation themselves without breaking a sweat. Still standing in the doorway, you crossed your arms watching as one began choking Lemar with her spear, the other sticking her spear into Steve’s... John’s shield.

Quickly glancing over to the other men, you caught Bucky and Sam staring at you on the sidelines, whispering to one another. As soon as you caught their line of vision you glanced away, focusing once again on the fight taking place in front of you.

Right as Ayo held her spear above John, fear written all over his face, Bucky stepped in, pulling Ayo back. Recalling why you were there in the first place, you immediately uncrossed your arms, striding over to the other side of the room, able to feel the rage flowing through your veins.

Pulling your spear from the wall, you marched up to your husband pulling him away from Ayo.

“Y/n,” He eased. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Oh you want to talk about it?” You asked, shoving him backwards with the spear. “That’s funny, Buck.”

Dodging your blows, not wanting to fight you, Bucky continued backing up and reaching for the spear to keep the metal from meeting his skin.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” He exclaimed.

Pushing harder with the spear, you grunted, kicking him to subsequently shove him back against the counter.

You asked yourself if he really thought saying ‘sorry’ would work. You knew your husband wasn't dumb enough to believe that there would be no consequences for breaking Helmut Zemo out of prison- a man who not only caused the split of the Avengers, but also killed the king of Wakanda- a place full of people who had shown you and your husband nothing but kindness. They had given Bucky a new chance at life and had given you the opportunity to train among the most expert fighters you had ever met- the Dora Milaje. They had given both of you more than you could have asked for when your life went sideways eighty years ago. So when you had received the call that Bucky had broken Zemo out of prison you could barely believe it.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Buck!” You shouted.

Knocking him back one last time, you recalled what they had taught you back in Wakanda when Bucky had first received his new arm- a trick you had hoped never to have to use, but as you stood there fighting your husband, anger fueling you in a way you had felt only a few times before, you didn’t see another way.

Moving your hand in the exact pattern you had learned years ago along where his shoulder met his chest, you listened as the the metal clicked and watched as his vibranium arm fell to the ground beside him, Bucky looking up at you with his eyes wide.

You had to shove back the part of you that felt your heart break in your chest watching the look of betrayal in his eyes. Recalling why the two of you were in this position in the first place, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat.

“You are sleeping on the couch tonight, Mr. Barnes.”

Holding the spear straight beside you, you turned your attention to Ayo who opened the doors to the bathroom, only to find Zemo missing. Instructing the other warrior to drop Cap’s shield, the two women left, leaving you behind with the four remaining men in the room.

Shoving past your husband, you dropped your spear onto the ground, making your way over to Sam and smacked him across the back of his head.

“Shit!” He exclaimed. “What was that for? Don’t get me involved in your little lovers’ quarrel.”

“Lovers’ quarrel?” You asked him, laughing. “I’ve been Mrs. Barnes for eighty-two years, Sam. I’ve put up with a lot of shit, but don’t act like you two didn’t just break a criminal out of prison. A criminal who- need I remind you- tried to brainwash Bucky and killed King T’Chaka.”

“Don’t look at me.” Sam said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That was all Bucky.”

Immediately your eyes snapped back to your husband who was standing across the room, attaching his vibranium arm to his shoulder once again.

“Thanks, Sam.” Bucky grumbled.

Before any of the rest of you could say anything, the voice from the other side of the room caught your attention. Following the voice you saw John Walker huddled against the table, his friend reaching his hand out to him.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” He mumbled, staring off into the distance.

Despite the fact that you still didn’t approve of the ‘new’ Captain America, you felt your heart tug in your chest as you watched the man break down over to the side. You felt sorry for him. You knew better than any other living person the weight the shield and legacy carried being both the adopted sister of Steve himself and the wife of his best friend.

Although you were pained watching a new man undermine your brother’s legacy, you couldn’t help but pity him.

Making your way over to John you reached out your hand to him. Looking up you could finally see the recognition in his eyes, realizing who you were. Immediately he took your hand, pulling himself to his feet.

“You’re-” He started.

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Walker.” You said, before making your way over to the couch. “No one wins a fight against the Dora Milaje. I got my ass handed to me every day that I trained with them.”

Despite the fact that you were telling the truth- you lost to each one every time you fought- you enjoyed every second of it. It was a relief.

After discovering that your husband, Bucky, was still alive after decades apart, you couldn’t stand to let him out of your sight again. When Steve had brought Bucky to Wakanda with the hope of clearing his brain of the programming he had endured under Hydra, you followed him there. Despite the fact that your husband was in your arms once again, you couldn’t help the thoughts that took over your mind every day- everything that you all had lost, the memories of what you had endured and the worry that Bucky would never be the same again.

The pain of being knocked around by a member of the Dora Milaje’s spear was almost therapeutic.

Rather than replying, Lemar pat his friend on the back, nodding to the rest of you within the room before guiding his shaken friend out the door of the apartment.

“You’re being too friendly with him, Y/n.” Bucky said.

Snapping your head to the side you glared at your husband.

“What are you? Jealous?” You asked.

Rather than answer you, Bucky crossed his arms.

“I just think you’re being a little too nice to the guy that’s ruining Steve’s name-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you pushed yourself off of the couch, striding over to your husband, shoving your finger into his chest.

“Don’t tell me how to feel, James.” You told him seriously. “He was my brother. I wouldn’t have chosen that guy to take on Steve’s name either, but don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who fucked up and lied about going on this mission with Sam. Do you know what it felt like to get a call from Ayo to find out that you not only lied to me, but you betrayed the people who have been nothing but kind to us?”

Staring at you, he could tell how not only angry you were, but also distraught. The both of you had gone through hell and back and Bucky was thankful every day that even after all these years he was able- by some miracle- to still find you eighty years after the two of you had supposedly died. He had suffered through so much and done so many things he could barely look at himself in the mirror for, but at the end of the day you continued to not only be there for him, but to love him anyway.

A part of him felt awful for not telling you- he hated lying to you and you had every right to know- but after your brother had left the two of yours’ lives, he didn’t want to put any further strain on you than you had already endured.

He knew once he freed Zemo that you would find out, but as you stood in front of him he almost wish he hadn’t so you wouldn't be feeling this type of way.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” Bucky said. “I didn't... after everything with Steve I didn’t want to get you involved. You deserved a break, doll.”

Relaxing your shoulders, you sighed, resting your hand on his bicep.

“And what about you, Buck?” You asked. “Don’t you deserve a break?”

“That’s different, Y/n.” He said. “I need this. You know I do.”

You knew he did. You had been there while his guilt kept him up at night, waking him up after only a few hours of what you could barely call rest. You knew that his past had been eating away at him, especially since Steve left, and that doing something wholly good might bring him some semblance of peace.

“I know.” You said, meeting his eyes. “So I’m going to help you. We’re in this together, Buck, okay?”

Despite the fact that he wanted to keep you as far away from danger as he could- something he could never manage considering you had been fighting alongside the Avengers since before he had even gained his memory back- he knew he couldn’t say no to you.

“Alright.” He agreed.

Gently squeezing his arm you gave him a soft smile.

“Glad to see you guys are good.” Sam quipped. “Incase you forgot Zemo’s now on the loose and the back of my head stings like hell.”

Smiling and turning to, Sam, you playfully swat his arm.

“Please.” You laughed. “Big, strong guy like you? You barely felt that.”

“Listen I’m not a super soldier like you two.” He said, pointing between you and Bucky. “Remind me not to mess with your kids some day. Last thing I need is getting knocked out by some kid with two super soldiers for parents.”

“We should go find Zemo.” Bucky said clearing his throat, changing the subject.

“Yeah.” You agreed. “He couldn’t have gotten too far. Let’s go.”

Not one to argue, Sam threw his hands up in the air, leading the way out of the door of Zemo’s apartment. As your foot was about to cross the door, however, you felt Bucky’s hand wrap around your arm, pulling you to the side.

“So do I still have to sleep on the couch tonight?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice.

“Oh honey,” You cooed, patting the side of his cheek before laughing. “You’re not getting out of this one that at easily.”

Watching from his spot on the steps as you picked up the pace to catch up with Sam, he crossed his arms smiling to himself. Steve was right when he said that he was going to be okay... as long as he was with you, how couldn’t he be?

[wonda-cat]

Misconceptions About Tommyinnit’s Character That Genuinely INFURIATE Me

Since the recent events following the second L’Manburg Festival and subsequent war, I’ve seen many, many hot takes surrounding the nature of Tommyinnit’s character on the SMP. Some of which annoyed me to the point where I felt compelled to sit down and actually write this. I’m going to only be highlighting the most common complaints or questions I’ve seen, one by one, in hopes of providing a better understanding of Tommy’s character for anyone interested. (I also briefly discuss Techno and Tubbo’s characters as well.)

If you’ve said similar things to what I’m going to be discussing below, please know that it’s perfectly understandable how you’d come to these conclusions. Some of these aspects of Tommy’s character are not always obvious; especially if being watched from another streamer’s POV. This may become quite lengthy, so bear with me for now.

“Tommy’s motives are all over the place. He can’t decide whether he wants the discs back or not.”

Tommy is actually one of the most motivationally consistent characters on the entire Dream SMP. Even Techno, someone completely confident in their ideals, does more motivational flipping than Tommy. From the very start of the story, Tommy has always cared for three things; L’Manburg, Tubbo, and his music discs. However, him caring for something is not itself a motivation. 

Surprisingly enough, his motivation isn’t even just, ‘Get my discs back,’ like many assume it is. Tommy’s one true motivation, since the end of the Independence War, has always been, ‘Keep things the way they are now.’ 

Tommy’s one fatal flaw is that he is resistant to change and refuses to let go of the past. This is seen through all of his actions and words; in all conflicts involving him. This flaw is the drive to all of Tommy’s mistakes. Burning down George’s house, an action which resulted in him getting exiled, was done out of a desire to pull pranks the way he used to before the first war. His friendship with Ranboo started because Tommy said he reminded him of Tubbo, back before he was President. 

Tommy still talks highly of Wilbur because he chooses to remember him as the wise, kind mentor who cared for him. This motive is the reason he defends L’Manburg so fiercely; it’s his memory of a better past. This is why he holds grudges more often than any other character; especially refusing to forgive Techno after he killed Tubbo during the Manburg Massacre.

It’s why Tommy falls under extreme distress whenever Tubbo or Quackity tell him that something will never be the same again. This motivation is entirely formed from an underlying desire for peace and comfort, something Tommy has been denied since being forced into a life wrought with war and death. To accept change, to Tommy, is painful and terrifying. But he will only ever truly be happy when he finally learns to let go.

“Why do the discs matter so much to Tommy? They’re not actually worth anything.”

Tommy’s discs are much more than just any ordinary pair of music discs. They were never important for their material worth, but for what Tommy was willing to sacrifice in order to keep them. Tommy is entirely what gives the discs their value. 

Tommy also commonly operates under the Sunk-Cost Fallacy, wherein he’s invested too much of himself into something to just abandon it, even if it’s causing him problems. This mentality is a huge piece of what keeps him tied to both L’Manburg and to his discs. He’s sacrificed too much at this point to simply let them go. If he admits the discs are worthless, then he’s admitting that he wasted all this time and effort, just to keep them.

The discs also act as a constant source of hope for Tommy because they are directly tied with his motivations as a character. They’re something he’s had since the very beginning. They’re something he used to listen to with Tubbo on their shared bench. 

To Tommy, they symbolize a life before war, filled with comfort and peace. They are a love letter to his country and his late mentor Wilbur. They are a physical representation of Tubbo’s companionship. They are the only thing, besides L’Manburg and his best friend, that gives him the hope that he can one day return things to the way they used to be. 

This ideal, paired with Tommy’s refusal to let go, has left him ruthlessly pursuing the things he’s lost. Not his music discs, but his peace and comfort, his friendship, his country, his mentor Wilbur, and his life before war.

In his desperation to hold onto his prized possession, it has only hurt and pushed away the people that love him. If Tommy continues to ignore this reality, while still refusing to resolve his major flaw entwined with it, he will lose all that the discs had once stood for. He will lose his country, then his friend Tubbo, and then he will lose himself.

“Tommy never grows or learns from his mistakes. This makes him a badly written character.”

Characters do not have to constantly learn from their actions to be well-written. Tommy is one of the best examples of this. The fact that his growth is infrequent is the entire point of his character; it’s completely stemmed from his fatal flaw. 

By addressing himself, he would be accepting change, something that terrifies him; something he stubbornly resists until he is absolutely forced to confront it. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy knows when he makes mistakes, but he pretends to be ignorant as to avoid facing reality. He digs his head in the sand despite knowing better, puppeteering the person he used to be during happier times, now gone.

In spite of his infrequent growth, the idea that Tommy still hasn’t learned anything isn’t quite correct either. Tommy, as of the last three plot streams, has shown incredible character development. By giving up his discs again, he had finally demonstrated that Tubbo is more important to him than his possessions. Speaking as a makeshift leader, he put aside his issues with others to rally them together against a common threat, something which Tommy had never been able to do before. He owned up to all of his mistakes openly, apologizing to everyone he’s ever hurt in one place. 

He apologized to Tubbo after they were reunited and came to terms with the fact that Tubbo was forced to exile him without choice, finally forgiving him. He was kind to Sapnap and learned how to be his friend after months of bitter rivalry. And these are only a few examples. This isn’t to say Tommy has overcome/fixed everything because he clearly hasn’t. There are still major things Tommy needs to work through that remain unaddressed, the biggest being his complicated relationship with Technoblade.

“Tommy only cares about himself. He does everything in his power to be the hero, always putting himself in the center of attention, especially during Doomsday.”

Tommy, since the start of the L’Manburg War for Independence, has never set out to be a hero. Not once. He may fall into the role of the protagonist, but his identity as a hero was pushed onto him by others. Giving up the discs was his only option during the Independence War. 

So when Wilbur called him a hero for it, Tommy said he didn’t feel like he was. During the November 16th War, Tommy again said he didn’t feel like a hero because he had lost what he thought was everything at the time. During exile, Tommy certainly knew he was no hero. And upon reuniting with Tubbo, he admitted to feeling like the farthest thing from it. That he’d hurt everyone and all he wanted to do now was fix it. 

The day before Doomsday, Tommy only took a leadership position because no one else was willing to, filling the role for Tubbo, who was crumbling under pressure. He had no choice but to try to bring everyone together, or fight alone. Most viewers never saw this during Doomsday, but before the battle, almost everyone who had vowed to fight alongside L’Manburg had abandoned them the very next day. They were convinced it was going to be destroyed either way, no matter what they did, so they chose not to see it through to the end; ultimately leaving Tommy and those who remained to fight a losing battle, alone. 

After about a third of the way through the battle, it became clear to everyone that they could do nothing to win. One by one, everyone stopped fighting and stood by to watch their country go up in smoke. Tommy was the only person on the battlefield who refused to stand down and give up. And so he took over the role as leader again, trying his best to keep them alive, to keep Tubbo hopeful; to keep fighting, no matter what. 

However, what most people don’t realize, is that this isn’t Tommy trying to be a hero or force himself into the spotlight. This is Tommy trying to convince himself to keep going. Because whenever things start to look hopeless, Tommy simply chooses to ignore them. He puts on a happy face and soldiers through it because that’s all he knows how to do. Tommy, at his core, is someone who wants peace through stagnation. He doesn’t want to fight, although causing the occasional friendly conflict is how he finds fun. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt others. 

Tommy may come across as self-centered, but this is because he is an extremely extroverted character. He finds energy and joy in the attention of others, both good and bad. It’s why he’s always seeking the approval of others and, oftentimes, will destructively insert himself into another person’s life in order to find it. 

Out of every character in the story, Tommy is the most drawn to praise and positive reinforcement. He is constantly seeking out mentors and friends because Tommy needs someone else to help him feel confident in his own identity and abilities. It’s why Wilbur was such a positive influence on him. His boisterous confidence has always been a front because if anyone were to actually hurt him, he knows it will make his self-esteem crumble instantly. 

This is part of why Dream’s manipulation was so effective against him. By isolating him, he’s left without energy and looking to another person’s guidance. Tommy outwardly may seem independent and rude, but just under the skin, he’s unconfident and lost when he’s by himself. Tommy will only grow from this flaw when he finds his own identity and inner confidence; when he finally learns to be okay with being alone.

“Tommy goes to the festival solely to get his disc back and then tells Tubbo to give it away immediately after. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Before the screaming match between the two friends during the second L’Manburg Festival, Tommy had been in exile, manipulated by Dream for long enough to lose his will to carry on. It is because of him that Tommy’s reality becomes distorted, long after fleeing from his abuser. This mangling of ideals leads Tommy to subconsciously believe that L’Manburg and Tubbo are unsalvageable. 

Therefore, the only thing he has hopes of retrieving are his discs, which are easier to manage than the latter two things. And so Tommy does reprehensible things at the behest of Techno in a vain hope of getting them back, going so far as to kidnap and torture for them. This ultimately culminates in a confrontation between the ex-friends, quickly turning violent. It is in this violence that we see Tommy has sunk to his absolute lowest point in his journey. 

Swinging his axe, he nearly kills his friend as he delivers a string of words that cause the room to silence instantly. He says the discs were always worth more than his friend. Within the quiet of the room, Tommy is forced to reflect on everything he’s done. How he kidnapped and tortured Connor. How he accidentally drowned Fundy. How he traumatized Ranboo. 

And now he’s hurt Tubbo, the one person he has always sought to protect; someone he vowed to never hurt. This realization causes Tommy to break. He’s so ashamed of himself that he can’t look at anyone. Tommy knows now that he is worse than anyone he’s ever hated. 

With pain in his voice, he tries and fails to apologize to Tubbo in the moment. The only way he knows to redeem himself now is to prove to Tubbo, after everything, that he can still put the discs aside. And so he does.

“The fact that Tommy is still trying to get his discs back after L’Manburg was destroyed is unreasonable and ridiculous.”

Tommy deals with grief in an interesting way, doing something very similar to Techno. His grief almost instantly becomes anger and a drive to prove himself. It morphs into a need for vengeance in response to injustice, always. 

After the destruction of L’Manburg, Tommy saying he wants the discs back is a double-sided motivator. The obvious side being: Tommy still needs them to feel comfort. The subtle side beneath it: Tommy is using them as an excuse to find Dream and kill him. To make him pay for helping destroy their home, hurting his friends, and abusing him in exile. 

Upon the loss of his home, I’d also argue the discs have only grown more important to Tommy in the aftermath. Typically, in grief, people hold onto things that survive devastation far more than if the tragic event never occurred. If your eldest child dies, one may hold their surviving children tighter. If your house burns down, one may deeply treasure a box of items that survived the flames. Tommy’s desperation after losing so much is entirely understandable.

On top of this, the discs are still the core to Tommy’s fatal flaw. They are what keeps him from achieving total happiness, so him getting over this intrinsic part of himself so easily would make for an unsatisfying character arc. He still has to work for his happiness in order to change for the better. 

To add, I’ve seen a lot of people complaining that Tommy is still prioritizing the discs over Tubbo, especially in that moment. And while I mostly agree, there are some interactions that stand out to me as being different between the pair that may imply otherwise. Tommy says a few times that despite L’Manburg being destroyed, he still has something left to lose; each time, turning to look at Tubbo. 

This subtly implies that losing Tubbo would be as devastating as losing his home. Tubbo also never voices disagreement over Tommy’s continued pursuit of the item. However, Tubbo frequently does what he thinks will make others happy, so this doesn’t implicitly mean support for Tommy either. Besides these two things, this is still Tommy’s fatal flaw shining through, continuing to hurt others around him. 

I only hope Tubbo can learn to stand up for himself and voice his real thoughts to Tommy now, after everything. It would provide at least some desperately-needed closure for Tubbo’s character.

“How could Tommy betray Techno like that? Techno told him upfront what he was going to do.”

While it’s true that Techno was obvious about his plans, Tommy was also just as upfront with Techno about what he thought of it. In fact, maybe even more so, considering Techno attempted to hide them from Tommy for a good portion of their partnership. Whenever Techno brought up the idea of destroying L’Manburg or hurting Tubbo, Tommy would always remind Techno that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. And that if Techno ever did, Tommy would be there to stand in his way. He never once stopped saying this. 

Tommy’s two major positive character traits have always been his undying loyalty and his strength to never give up, even in the face of death. Two classically heroic qualities, both of which, ironically, reinforce his fatal flaw. His refusal to change makes him stubborn; stubbornness being the only quality that makes unwavering loyalty and extreme persistence feasible. 

Because of these two traits, it was impossible from the start for Dream to completely break Tommy’s spirit and for Techno to get him to agree to anything too extreme. Despite this, Techno already had no hope of keeping Tommy on his side after the events of the day before the Festival. During it, Tommy had asked multiple times for Techno to give his word not to hurt anyone. That they’d only threaten to spawn a wither, get Techno’s remaining weapons in exchange, then leave. That’s it.

Techno avoided directly promising Tommy but still agreed not to regardless. So when Techno chose to spawn the wither anyway, despite Tommy urging them to leave multiple times, whatever trust Tommy had with him went completely out the window. Thus, when the threat was finally real, that Techno would make due on his promise to burn his home country to the ground and slaughter his friends, Tommy intervened. It would be unreasonable to expect Tommy not to stand against him in that moment, especially after his mental breakdown which ensued as a result of him nearly killing his best friend. 

Adding salt to the wound on Tommy’s end, Techno decided to also align himself with Dream, someone Techno knew Tommy was afraid of. This might have been a way to purposely hurt Tommy. More likely, it was because Dream and him shared a common goal in the moment and Techno desperately needed allies.

However, the implication of Techno siding with Tommy’s abuser most certainly hurt him, regardless of its original intentions. This is possibly why Tommy kept insisting through Doomsday that Techno betrayed him, avoiding actually telling anyone the reason as to why. If he couldn’t find the words to describe what Dream did to him, even to Tubbo, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Techno either.

“Techno gave Tommy everything, only to be repaid with betrayal.”

This statement regarding Tommy is the one I see most often. (It is also the one I get the most heated about.)

Dream’s character is well known for his manipulation tactics against other characters; pitting them against each other, crushing them under his heel, bending their will to conform to his own. It’s what makes him an interesting villain. It’s something fun to discuss. 

But is it still fun to discuss manipulation tactics if they’re so subtle, almost no one notices them? This is the paradigm Technoblade’s character falls into. While people know Techno for his laid-back personality, dry humor, and complex motivations, many fail to recognize him as a manipulator. The reason why this is so hard to spot is because it is mostly unintentional on behalf of the character. Dream performs his craft with intention, Techno does it without realizing. 

As well as this being unwitting, it is sandwiched between Techno’s actual attempts to connect with Tommy and care for him. Thus, making the manipulation feel less damaging. The only problem is, this still hurts Tommy just as much, regardless of the intentions behind it. Especially after just escaping Dream, Tommy’s reality and sense of identity are horribly distorted. In this vulnerable state, he desperately needs healing and someone to help ground him. This is what makes him even more susceptible to Techno’s influence. 

And because it is much subtler, it is harder to notice, and much harder to break free from. Despite Tommy claiming to hate Techno for what he did on November 16th, he still chose to flee to his house because it was the only place he could think of going, as well as being the safest area possible. After the failed execution, Techno mentioned potentially hurting Tubbo through a vengeance plot. Tommy voiced extreme distress over this, to which Techno threatened to kick him out of his house. 

Tommy then says he’s fine being homeless because he doesn’t want anything to do with someone who would hurt his friend. This is when Techno decides to weaponize Tommy’s own trauma against him. To be fair to Techno again, Tommy never told him the extent of the abuse he suffered in exile. But Techno isn’t stupid. He knows Tommy is extremely afraid of Dream, and for good reason. 

So he tells Tommy that if he were kicked out, he’d be defenseless. That if he were out there all alone, Dream would find him very easily. That Dream would drag him right back to Logstedshire in an instant. He notices the way Tommy reacts to this, how quickly he changes his mind about being kicked out. He continues to use this trauma repeatedly in order to keep Tommy under his roof, no matter how disagreeable he gets about Techno’s plans. He knows he can’t retrieve his weapons alone because he has no leverage. 

Therefore, using Tommy like a wild card was a major side strategy. Techno knows it will hurt Tubbo by doing this and may make the President more willing to compromise. In addition to this, many of the strategies Techno utilizes are Narcissistic manipulation tactics, categorized by their intent to keep the victim in a position below the abuser in terms of worth. This includes Techno using the silent treatment as a punishment, something which hurts Tommy since he craves affection from others. 

He also attempts to isolate Tommy by telling him he doesn’t need anyone else; that everyone abandoned him during exile (something which Dream has also said.) He tells Tommy that he’s only alive because Techno is there to defend him and supply for him, as well as constantly reminding Tommy to not let any compliments he receives get to his head. These are both meant to make Tommy depend more on Techno and doubt his own abilities. Techno also occasionally engages in subtle gaslighting, attempting to sow doubt in Tommy’s mind about his relationships with Tubbo, Quackity, Ranboo, and Fundy. 

It’s also vital to keep in mind what exactly separates Dream and Techno in this regard. The most important thing being that Techno actually does care about Tommy. He trusts him and wants to earnestly help him. He knows Tommy has been traumatized and abused in some way, but he doesn’t know how to help because he’s not that great with people. It also doesn’t help that Tommy is unable to tell anyone what happened. 

In the end, Techno really does want to be a shield for Tommy. Despite debating handing Tommy over to Dream, it’s more likely Techno was using this as bait for Dream to waste his favor on something useless. After all, he could always save Tommy, should he ask for him to. Techno’s warnings about Tubbo and L’Manburg also come from a place of love, as Techno was personally hurt by them and wants to protect Tommy by telling him to leave it behind. However, just because something is done out of love, doesn’t mean it’s automatically helpful or good for someone. 

There’s no better example of this than in Techno’s most damaging and frequently used tactic: ‘Buy Their Love,’ a technique commonly used on children by narcissistic parents. At first glance, nothing seems wrong. Techno gives Tommy most things he asks for; providing him with food, gifts, protection, and a place to sleep. The manipulation within this arises when the act of kindness is counted as a debt against the person who receives it. That by receiving so many good things, they would be ungrateful to go against their abuser. Doesn’t matter if they emotionally or physically hurt you, they gave you gifts, so you should shut your mouth and allow the abuse to continue. 

Whenever Tommy speaks out against Techno’s violent actions or his plans to hurt his friends, Techno would frequently bring up all his ‘good deeds.’ He consistently reminds Tommy that he could’ve just thrown him back to Dream, but he was too kind. That he went out of his way to give him gear, food, and a roof over his head. That he was kind so Tommy should be quiet and let Techno plot to hurt the people he loves. Or else he’s selfish and ungrateful. Or else Techno will take all of his gifts back and leave him with nothing.

Knowing this, it is horrifying seeing people justifying this behavior by mocking Tommy’s character and calling him ungrateful using this very same fallacy. (Especially for those who grew up being controlled by this very tactic.) 

It is through knowing Techno’s use of the ‘Buy Their Love,’ method that makes Tommy’s, ‘I am worthy,’ response, not one of betrayal, but one of triumph. This moment is a major positive character change for Tommy for many reasons. When Tommy decides to stand against Techno, this causes him to fall back on his most reliable tactic. He insults Tommy and then asks for the Axe of Peace back. Instead of caving, Tommy refuses. 

By keeping the Axe of Peace, Techno’s final gift to him, he is not only rejecting the destruction of all he loves, but he is breaking free from Techno’s manipulation. He says, ‘I am worthy,’ because now he knows his own self-worth. He doesn’t need Techno or Dream to decide it for him. This moment is Tommy finally breaking free from not just Techno, but Dream as well. He is finally free.

“Tommy was only using Techno and never thought of him as a friend.”

Tommy and Techno’s relationship is complicated, which is why pretending only one side was in the wrong isn’t entirely accurate. Their friendship, in summary, is tragic when fully examined; being doomed from the start. Techno and Tommy are brought into conflict often because they are simultaneously so similar and so different. Techno and Tommy both deal with grief in the same way. They both long for a life of peace and comfort. They each long for companionship, hold their ideals in kind, and are both naturally resilient in the face of adversity. 

Yet, their personalities and courses of action are polar opposites. What makes this friendship one of tragedy is the fact that not just Techno, not just Tommy, but both of them, actually thought the other was their friend. They had each wanted to be the other’s friend since the day they’d met. Tommy never stopped wanting to impress Techno and get on his good side, even if his methods annoyed the target of his affections. Him calling Techno ‘The Blade’ was never meant to dehumanize him; it was a title of adoration. 

Along the same spectrum, Techno is a character who generally longs for friendship, but pretends not to after a lifetime of hurt. He’s been burned too many times, and so he chooses to stay alone. Techno is generally very reclusive and awkward around others, so when he likes someone or cares for them, it’s noticeable from a mile away. Their friendship has a very brotherly dynamic, and the fact that Techno allowed him to stay in his house, implies Tommy is a step above pretty much everyone else but Phil. Putting up with Tommy’s shenanigans is itself a sign of affection. 

However, when their goals come into conflict and the two start to drift apart, they deal with this in massively different ways. With Tommy devastated and enraged, and with Techno withdrawn and hurt, once more burned by someone he slowly learned to trust. They were once both friends, neither one was pretending. Yet, both of them thought their companionship was unreciprocated. 

On top of this, both Techno and Tommy were using each other. Techno used Tommy to get his weapons back by manipulating and lying to him. Tommy used Techno to protect him from Dream and get his discs back. They each hurt the other and refused to listen, both shouting valid complaints at the other that they refused to hear. 

Their relationship is also deeply affected by the themes of vengeance in the current arc, which is something I haven’t seen many people talk about. Most of the current conflicts this past month have resulted from characters being unable to forgive, resorting to revenge as a way to cope with loss. L’Manburg was the first to initiate this, through the influence of Quackity. The Butcher Army was formed to punish Techno for a war crime he committed. And while this is perfectly reasonable, what isn’t is the way the incident was orchestrated. It was an unchecked abuse of power to execute someone without a fair trial, as well as punishing Phil, who was not involved whatsoever. 

This was also particularly unfair to Techno, as many projected their anger at Wilbur onto him. Even Tommy did this, finding himself unable to blame his late mentor, so Techno was the next best option for him. However, it was Techno’s response to this that was interesting. He chose a path of vengeance, the same way L’Manburg did, after vowing to live his life as a pacifist. By doing this and following through, he hurt everyone, not just the people he claimed needed to pay for their actions. 

Instead of just picking the weed in the garden, he set the entire flower bed on fire. Through L’Manburg’s destruction, he gets what he wants. He destroys their government, but he also scars the earth and shatters the sky. He leaves uninvolved people homeless, deeply hurting Ranboo, Eret, and especially Ghostbur. Philza turns to vengeance as well, taking his anger at the death of his son out on people who do not deserve it. 

Tubbo, a day before the second Festival, was given another chance to seek revenge when Techno had spawned a wither on their land. Instead, all Tubbo could say was, ‘We do nothing … It’s pointless, vengeance. It’s poisonous.’ By doing this, he has managed to be a bigger person than even Techno was, with the strength and maturity to turn the other cheek. And now with Tommy’s plan to kill Dream, the conflict continues to escalate; only ending where forgiveness begins. 

It’s sad to think, if Techno didn’t choose a path of vengeance and Tommy was strong enough to tell Techno how he really felt, the two might have remained friends. Who knows? Maybe they still can.

“Tommy was the one in the wrong. Techno was right to destroy L’Manburg.”

Techno is a lovely character. He’s well-written, engaging, funny. He has many values and quirks that are generally relatable and interesting. His motives are deeply understandable and sympathetic. And yet, he is perfectly capable of being evil, in just the same way that Tommy can be deeply flawed despite being the protagonist. 

I’m sure most people already know that Technoblade is a villain. Or more accurately, a tragic antagonist. Techno (the streamer) knows he is and he’s having fun playing that part. Just because a character is morally in the wrong doesn’t mean their values and ideology don’t have merit. The best character I could compare Techno to is Thanos. 

They have completely valid concerns and points, but it is the way in which they go about achieving their goals that makes them into evil people. And despite this, many will still agree with them, even after they do something reprehensible. Contrary to popular belief, Technoblade’s tendency towards violence isn’t a good thing, no matter how you look at it. Even Techno himself knows this, that’s why he decided to reform and become a pacifist with Phil. He was not a good influence on Tommy, on top of also manipulating him. 

Techno caving to hatred and vengeance makes him no different to the resolve of the Butcher Army that pursued him. It is precisely the fact that he went on to destroy the home of not just Tommy, but also Ranboo and Ghostbur, that puts him in the wrong. He is allowed to despise all government and remove himself from it, but the moment he decided to insert himself into someone else’s country and take their home from them in order to destroy it, he abandoned an integral principle to his own values. 

This principle being: ‘Choice.’ The act of letting others be free to decide what they want for themselves. It is a huge component to the concept of anarchy, the freedom to choose. And yet Techno robbed this from, not just the ruling powers that hurt him, but individuals who were not even involved in the first place. He justifies this by saying it’s for their own good, that he’s helping; while acting in a self-serving manner. 

In his anger, he became the punisher, stooping lower than L’Manburg has ever gone. There is also the issue of Dream weaponizing Techno to destroy the one thing that has been a thorn in his side since the very start, manipulating Techno’s grief to achieve his goals. Tommy’s biggest sin in the Doomsday War was standing up to Techno and getting in the way of him hurting his friends and destroying his home. 

This isn’t to say Tommy is perfect, because he still hurt everyone he ever loved. But the only way he knew to redeem himself was to fight for what he knew was right. And so he chose to fight alongside his best friend, Tubbo. However, just because Techno is in the wrong doesn’t mean others are wrong for wanting to side with him, or by finding joy in his ruthlessness. The biggest appeal of Techno is the fact that he opposes people like Tommy. 

He knows how to put people in their place and it’s satisfying to watch. Some people love rooting for villains and it’s entertaining to see a being with so much power crush everyone else down so effortlessly. Especially because it’s so easy to sympathize with Technoblade. Sympathetic villains are the best kind; where they have understandable motivations, relatable flaws, people they love, and something they can lose. Dream is a villain you love to hate. Technoblade is a villain you hate to love. Simple as. 

Despite the destruction of L’Manburg being either devastating or fantastic depending on who you are, there is one major good it has done. It has pushed Tommy more towards the completion of his character arc. By losing one of the three things he loves, it will be impossible for him to pretend any longer. He will be forced to confront reality very soon. It all depends on whether Tubbo will have to die first for him to finally see it.

[nev3rfound]

someone i once knew : b.b

bucky is left alone in the compound whilst the rest of the avengers are sent on a mission. yet, to bucky’s surprise he isn’t alone as he’s about to meet tony’s new assistant and someone from his past. (3.4k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

“You sure you’ll manage on your own?” Steve asks as he walks alongside Bucky.

Bucky quirks a brow at his oldest friend. “What, you don’t trust me?” He quips back, hearing Sam let out a dry laugh from the quinjet as he helps load the last of the supplies. “He doesn’t get an opinion.” Bucky adds, and Steve chuckles under his breath.

“I do trust you, Buck. But I just wanna make sure you’re okay being on your own here.” Steve explains, crossing his arms as Bucky buries his hands into his jacket pockets.

It was going to be Bucky’s first time being completely alone in the compound. Everyone else was required for a mission, and Bucky simply wasn’t needed this time. Initially, it stung a little- that Sam was going over him, but some downtime never hurt anyone, right?

“I’ll be alright, Steve.” Bucky states as Tony emerges from the elevator, huffing loudly as he looks at his phone.

“Oh, tin man? Do me a favour and don’t scare my new assistant,” Tony calls out, and Bucky looks to Steve who simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Since when did you hire an assistant?” Steve asks, and Tony stops beside them, locking his phone as he puts it into his pocket.

“Since I lost the last one,” Tony retorts.

“You married your old assistant, Tony.” Bucky comments and Tony simply rolls his eyes.

“Just, don’t scare her off, she has potential.” Tony remarks before carrying on toward the Quinjet, leaving Steve to bid farewell to Bucky.

Stepping back, Bucky rolls on his heels. “Guess I won’t be completely alone after all.” Bucky huffs. It is one thing to be alone in the compound with one of the other Avengers, but someone he hasn’t even met yet, that’s a level of confidence and comfortability he has yet to reach.

“Hey,” Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder. “you’ll be fine, just be your charming self.”

“I think he died back in the forties, pal.” Bucky mutters as he shrugs it off, it’s only for a few weeks at most.

“Just, don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says softly as he steps back from Bucky, turning around toward the Quinjet.

Shuffling on the spot, Bucky watches as they leave. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky mumbles to himself as he walks back into the compound, wandering whereabouts his company for the next few weeks is hiding out.

*

It had been a quiet few days and Bucky had still yet to meet the newest addition to Starks team and started to wonder if Tony was messing with him for the fun of it.

At least, he thought as much until he was training in the gym when the faint sound of the piano caught his attention.

Pausing his work out, Bucky couldn’t stop his curiosity from getting the better of him as he exits the gym, hearing a familiar melody clearly coming from the shared living space in the compound.

As stealthily as possible, Bucky enters the open space and can make out a figure sat at the usually absent grand piano. Tony purchased it a year ago to fill the space, even though no one could play, it did work in making the compound look somewhat homely.

Stepping further into the room, Bucky knew the song, his Mother always played it on her radio and witnessed her and his Father dancing to it.

Humming the tune, you remain oblivious to the company creeping into the room as you remain concealed by the bonnet of the piano.

“Wake and dream medley?” Bucky speaks up, and you jump in your seat, hitting the keys of the piano causing an awful blunt sound to echo in the open space. “Sorry,” Bucky adds, now retreating into himself as you remain hidden. “I, I could hear you from the gym, I love, loved that song.”

“No need to apologise,” You chuckle, and Bucky tenses upon hearing your voice.

It sounds so familiar, too familiar for his liking.

Rising to your feet, you rub your hands together before closing the bonnet of the piano, now in full view to Bucky who can feel his whole body shutting down.

Bucky steps back in disbelief, clinging onto the sofa behind him with all his might as you hesitantly step forward. “I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, Mr Stark had me doing a fair bit of paperwork so I’ve been holed up in my suite for the past few days.” You explain, but Bucky can’t seem to meet your gaze. “I’m Y/n,”

You extend your arm, holding your hand out to Bucky who stares in disbelief.

“Is this some kinda cruel joke?” Bucky questions, slowly looking up at your confused expression. “Y/n, is it really you?” He stares at you, but your confusion only deepens as you lower your arm back to your side.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but Bucky continues to eye you with evident shock. “Have we met before?”

A dry laugh leaves Bucky’s lips as he straightens himself up. “Do you not know me?” His voice is breaking as you shake your head, and Bucky can feel the moment of relief in his heartbreak once again.

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else?” You nervously laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Bucky simply nods and straightens himself up. “I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. And I do apologise for that, you just remind me of an old friend.” Bucky brushes it off, knowing it’s not possible, it just can’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky,” You tell him with a smile, one that Bucky once knew and loved, but he forces himself to remove that thought, it isn’t her. “the song I, I guess it was from your time?” You ask, moving back over to the piano and opening the bonnet.

“Yeah,” Bucky walks over, leaning against it as you take a seat, resuming the melody as if you had never paused. “I remember it growing up. How come you know it?”

Your fingers glide over the keys effortlessly and your eyes close for a moment. Whilst they’re closed, Bucky takes the chance to look at you properly, noting your distinct features, identical to the girl he once knew.

“I’m not sure,” You admit, lifting your fingers from the keys as you glance up at Bucky. “I, I just do.” Your brows furrow together, and Bucky notes how you look back at the piano.

“Well, it’s a nice song, so thank you for playing it.” Bucky speaks up. “I’ll be around, so I’ll be seeing you.” He mutters before exiting the room and rushes back to the gym, barely hearing you saying goodbye.

Once Bucky is gone, you look back at the piano. There’s no sheet music, but you knew the song, you knew the exact keys to play and the words as you hummed along.

There was something about Bucky, something amicable and undeniably so. You could feel it in the back of your mind, a nagging sensation to remember, remember something, anything. Yet, as always nothing follows through.

*

You and Bucky had been living in the compound for an entire week, and you had only come across him three times in total. The first at the piano, the second was after an attempted run; Bucky watched as you reentered the compound soaking from head to toe after being caught in a rainstorm. You tried to make a joke, but Bucky merely grumbled and walked off in the opposite direction. And the third well, that was this morning.

The smell of burnt toast woke you up, and you rushed from your suite to the shared floor where the kitchen is located.

“Stupid toaster,” Bucky groans under his breath as he throws the toast into the bin, slamming the lid shut with his metal hand, nearly leaving an indent.

“You alright there?” Your voice is so soft, and Bucky can feel the tension between his shoulders ease.

Lifting his metal arm up, Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just got distracted.” He shrugs as he turns around to look at you in your pyjamas, just a t-shirt and joggers. A lot more casual than the girl he remembers in the forties.

“Happens to the best of us,” You joke, moving past him to grab a mug. “want one?” You hold a second mug up, and Bucky nods.

He remains quiet as you pour him a cup and slide it across the counter to him. “Look alive!” You call out, and he grasps it firmly.

Silence falls between you both as you look over your shoulder to see Bucky holding the mug in his metal fingers, a distant gaze over his eyes. “Real smooth, Y/n.” Bucky eventually speaks up, followed by a short laugh as he raises the mug to his lips.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit, now leaning against the counter.

Laughter fills the bar as soldiers pass through with open arms and cheers for a new day. “Hey, look alive!” You yell as you slide across a bottle of beer to the brunette soldier.

“Thanks, Y/n.” His bright blue eyes focus on yours as he winks before patting his blond friend on the shoulder and walks closer toward you, yet the closer he gets, the more blurred he becomes. “Y-”

“Y/n?” Bucky calls out, snapping you from your thoughts. “You in there?”

“Sorry,” You look up from your mug, forcing a small smile. “got a bit lost in my head for a moment.” You mutter. “I, I’m going to go get ready.” You sip at your coffee and head out from the kitchen, leaving Bucky perplexed as he hears you running and swearing from in the hallway towards the elevator.

So, your encounters with Bucky haven’t exactly been the best. Yet, there’s something about him that you’re drawn to but scared of. His cool exterior doesn’t intimidate you, you know his history, you know all of the Avengers’ history. However there is a part of you that feels like you know Bucky somehow on a deeper level than what you've read in his files.

Rushing through your suite, you gather the necessary files before heading out to the elevator. You knew you shouldn’t have left it to the last minute to get the meeting scheduled.

As the metal doors open, Bucky steps aside, his blue eyes focused on his feet. “Which floor?” He asks.

“Two, please.” You respond, and silence ensues over you both.

It was becoming harder and harder for Bucky to not see the Y/n he once knew in you, this version of her or a copy. You twitched your nose the same way when you laughed, your hair smells like vanilla and you add small quirks to the same words.

“Y/n, do you ever have the feeling that you’ve met someone, in a previous life?” Bucky asks out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

“I, er,” You stumble over your words as you reach level two. “I’ll get back to you on that one, Bucky.” You tell him before exiting the elevator and carry on rushing to the conference room for your meeting with Pepper.

“Thought as such.” Bucky sighs as the doors close, leaving him alone with his memories of you once more.

*

“What’re you doing up here? You’ll freeze!” You laugh giddily as you wrap your arms around yourself, seeing Bucky sat with a blanket draped over his shoulders despite the early spring chill.

“I’ve endured worse, doll.” It rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, his treasured nickname for his girl.

Yet, you smile at the nickname, swearing you’ve heard it before. You contemplate a response, but leave it and walk closer, sitting beside Bucky.

“So, what are you doing up here? Am I that bad?” You nudge him playfully and without a second thought, Bucky lifts the blanket up, allowing you to curl into the soft fabric for much-needed warmth.

“You never could be, Y/n, trust me.” Bucky sighs sadly as he looks up to the stars, aware of you studying him closely, your eyes burning into each of his features. “I’m sorry if I’ve acted a little off this past week, I, I’m still adjusting to well, everything.” Bucky tries to ease his growing nerves as you scoot closer, the fragrance of your perfume encroaching into his nostrils like old times.

“You’ve been just fine, Bucky.” You reassure him as a faint smile forms on his lips.

“I’d know if you’re lyin’ to me, doll.” Bucky turns to face you, kneeling down as you cross your arms playfully, refusing to speak up. “Well, I guess you leave me no choice.” He mutters, and before you can react his hands grab your hips and he starts tickling you senselessly.

“Calm down, soldier!” You laugh happily. “Will you stop?!” You breathe out as his hands rise further up from your waist, pausing as he holds your face, smiling smugly to you, knowing you were truly hooked.

“So, I was just fine then, doll?” Bucky raises a brow as you nod, his hands bringing you closer as he breathes out a sigh into your lips. “Well, I guess I’ve got a few things to work on.”

“That you do mister.” You mutter before kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as hollers from across the road sound, and the faint call of your name interrupts you once more.

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you, and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay? You went all quiet on me for a minute.” He half laughs, seeing tears forming in your eyes as you shake your head.

“I, I’m not.” You admit, letting the tears fall. “I, you asked me earlier about feeling as if you’ve met someone in another life,” You trail off, seeing Bucky nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, feeling the remaining strings attached to his heart hoist it up, hoping they won’t fray at this final attempt. “it was dumb, I know.” He brushes it off.

“No, it’s not.” You tell him defiantly. “I, I keep having these memories of sorts, but I can’t make out any faces.” You rub your eyes. “Every day there’s this nagging sensation to remember something, to recognise someone I believe I knew, like there's this guy and I think he's someone I’m meant to know.” You explain, and Bucky can feel the restraints in his heart tightening, the cogs in your brain now turning.

“I know the feeling,” Bucky comments. “when HYDRA had me, they wiped my mind of everything, any memories of my life before and brainwashed me into their weapon. It’s kinda funny really, it was all still in there, and it slowly started to come back.”

“How did you know which memories were real?” Your voice softens as you home in on his blue eyes, watching as they twitch under your gaze. “Like, which weren’t misconstrued.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I just, I do.” He murmurs. “So, this guy, what’s he like?” Bucky changes the subject as a smile forms on his lips as you laugh lightly.

“I wish I knew,” A light shiver crosses your body, and Bucky pulls the blanket off of him, wrapping it around you. “he’s just, this amazing guy who, who is funny, and caring. I have these snippets of what I believe was our life together, but it doesn’t make any sense.” You ramble, trying your best to comprehend everything.

“Take your time.” Bucky reassures you.

“These ‘memories’ I’m having, they take place in the past- that much I know. But I know my life, I know the year I was born, I have memories of my childhood and I know my family.” You explain, feeling your eyes welling up with tears as your frustration and confusion increases. “How can I have memories of a life I’ve never lived?”

"Maybe you can." Whistling into the breeze, Bucky shuffles and turns to face you. “Try and focus on one detail, okay? Do you trust me?”

You search his eyes for any uncertainty, and you nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

“Thanks, Bucky." Silence falls between you both, stifling the cool air. "I, I better go in before I catch a cold.” You rise to your feet, removing the blanket and hand it back to him. “Can’t have Mr Stark complaining about me coughing senselessly on a conference call.” A light laugh escapes your lips as you wave to Bucky before heading back inside.

As the door closes behind you, Bucky blankly stares out at the sky. “Oh, doll.” Bucky pleads to the stars. “Please remember.”

Now back on your floor, tears freely cascade down your cheeks as you sob into your hand, barely able to reach your door before you fall to the ground. “Come on,” You cry, feeling snippets of memories colliding together of the childhood you knew versus one you don’t recall, two boys by your side at all times.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you shut the door to your suite behind you, hearing laughter echo in your mind.

“Steve! Stop, I need to keep my dress clean!” You plead, looking down at the splashes of mud coating the hem of your dress.

“I warned you, punk.” Bucky sighs, hitting Steve over the back of the head with the newspaper. “You still look beautiful, Y/n.” Bucky winks to you, watching as you roll your eyes in response.

“Thanks, James.” You mutter, ignoring the burning of your cheeks as you reach your front steps. “I’ll see you boys later, seven still good?” You ask, looking between the pair as they nod. “Okay, well, don’t get in too much trouble without me.” You chuckle before turning on your heels and head up the front steps, unlocking your front door as the radio plays faintly.

“James?” You whisper to yourself, rushing over to the nearest mirror. “My name is Y/n Y/l/n. I am twenty-four years old. This is my home. My parents are Y/M/N and Y/D/N.” You recite, staring at yourself in the mirror. “This is who you are.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you step away from your mirror and fall into your bed.

“Ms Y/l/n?” FRIDAY calls out, and you quickly sit upright.

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Tony is calling you, would you like to answer?” The AI asks, and you groan into your pillow, it’s not like you couldn’t answer your employer.

“Sure, FRIDAY.” You reply, reaching over for your phone and answer the call from Tony. “Hey Mr Stark, how’s the mission going?” You feign positivity as you force a bright smile. Even if Tony cannot see you, the walls have eyes.

“Hey, Y/n, I told you before, call me Tony. We’re on our way back now, I just wanted to make sure the tin man hasn’t been causing you any trouble.” Tony asks, moving away from other voices in the background.

Your eyes rise to your closed door, picturing Bucky mere minutes ago by your side, trying to help you remember him, James Buchanan Barnes, your James.

“Jam-” You cut yourself off and move the phone away from your ear, allowing a moment to compose yourself for your boss. “Bucky’s been fine, I promise Mr, sorry, Tony.” You chuckle uneasily, but Tony doesn’t question it.

“Well good to hear, listen we’ll be back in an hour, and you can meet the rest of the team in the morning. Get some rest, Y/n.” Tony tells you and hangs up before you can respond, leaving you alone once more with the impending thoughts weighing heavy in your mind.

“This is who you are.” You repeat like a mantra as you lie back down in your bed, wishing tomorrow would never come.

P A R T  T W O 

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@biss-stuff @psychicforest  @lourightm @mywinterwolf   @justsomedreaming​ @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @smilexcaptainx @fandom-princess-forevermore @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated--fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs @eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8 @notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan@cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976 @sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80

[fanmoose12]

Levi doesn't know what is killing him more - the excruciating pain in his leg, the constant boredom or sympathy mixed with adoration he keeps seeing in the eyes of people around him.

Adoration, and, to some degree, even sympathy is much better that unabashed hatred and disgust, and Levi should be thankful to Onyakopon for finding him a hospital that doesn't treat him like an abomination.

Nonetheless, Levi would rather left alone, far away from curious patients, kind doctors and caring nurses.

All this sudden attention, all this impersonal concern... It's a good thing, Levi thinks. He wants to like it.

But he doesn't.

Truth be told, he hates it.

He wants to go back to the way things were before. He wants to go back to the infirmary in Survey Corps. There, the doctors weren't at all nice. They grumbled and scolded every soldier, complaining that they were wasting their lives for nothing. Levi used to hate them all. But now he wants to go back, there, to Survey Corps, to his comrades- to everything he's lost.

***

There is a nurse, who visits him every morning. She opens the windows, letting in sunlight and warm wind. She brings medicine - bitter and viscous, and she tries to sweeten it with her smile.

It doesn't work, though, not quite. Her smile just isn't sweet enough.

She redresses his wounded leg, a sad mist going over her eyes as she looks at the mess of bones, lacerated skin and muscles.

Levi doesn't ask what she sees there. He doesn't ask if he'll be able to walk again or not. In the very beginning, when he was just transferred here, he used to ask about it every morning.

"You'll be up and running in no time," doctors and nurses assured him in unison.

They don't do that anymore. And that, Levi assumes, is an answer in of itself.

After her morning checkup, the nurse returns at noon, bringing him his lunch and another shot of medicine.

If he has no visitors, she spends the afternoon with him, reading a book or fruitlessly attempting to spark up a conversation.

She asks about their struggle against Eren, Battle of Earth and Heaven as they call it now, but there is nothing Levi can say about it, except that it was a pointless massacre, started by a foolish boy.

He doesn't wish to talk about it, doesn't want to even think about it. The others have forgiven him, Levi knows they did, but he can't forget so easily. There is an ugly, dark feeling inside him, a spanless anger that will never go away.

Too many had died, too many lives were lost because of Eren. Men, women, children, Levi can't even think about it, still can't quite imagine what a monster the little boy with bright eyes became.

And now that little boy had taken lives, too many of them. All of them break Levi's heart, but there is one of them that hurts the most, that makes it hard to wake up because sometimes he just can't seem to find a reason to.

When he refuses to talk about the mess that was the Battle of Earth and Heaven, when he ignores the question about the war between Marley and Paradise, the nurse asks him about his dreams.

And the question is so sudden, spoken so out of blue that it takes Levi a while to get his thoughts into order.

Dreams... He's not sure he's ever had one that was solely his own. He's more used to following someone else's dreams - he shared the dream to get out of the Underground with Farlan and Isabel, he wanted to eliminate all titans and see the world behind the walls alongside his comrades from Survey Corps, he longed to start a life Hange had described to him.

But now all of them are gone, and he's all alone. There is no one he can share a dream with.

But I'm still here, Levi reminds himself. He's still here, still alive. And if he can't follow someone else's dream, maybe, it's time to get a dream of his own.

"I'm thinking about starting a tea shop..." he whispers.

"Well, that's a start," the nurse smiles, and Levi slowly relaxes.

***

"She's lovely," Onyakopon remarks during one of his visits.

The nurse has just left the room, after feeding Levi his medicine and putting a fresh bouquet of flowers on his bedside table.

Levi shrugs in answer to Onyakopon's words. The nurse is lovely - long blond hair, pretty green eyes. She is full of life, she looks so young, but then again... Maybe, she's not as young as he thinks she is. Maybe, it's him who feels much older than he looks.

"You know," Onyakopon smiles, looking at the flowers the nurse brought. "If you ever wish to..."

"I don't," Levi cuts him off, his tone harsh.

He knows what Onyakopon wants to say. Sees in his eyes the same way he hears it in Gabi and Falco's awkward hints.

But he doesn't want to meet someone new, doesn't want to start a new life. He wants his own life back, the one that was promised to him but denied. The one he dreamt about whenever things became too frantic.

Just get through this, he used to tell himself, get through this and this is it, you'll have your chance, you'll get a shot at having a normal, happy life.

And now he got through this. However, Hange didn't.

***

The time goes and soon, much sooner than Levi expected, the doctors tell him that he's ready to be discharged.

Levi doesn't know how to feel about this. He used to hate hospitals with passion and ached to get out as fast as possible. Hospitals meant being out of loop, meant boredom and pitying looks from everyone around him.

However now... He's not nearly as eager to leave as he was before. He already feels lost inside his small, one-bed ward. What is going to happen when he has to move forward? How is he going to find his place in a world he doesn't even know?

He's done all of it before, though, two times already. He left the Underground and discovered a world with bright sun, faraway stars and harsh storms alongside Farlan and Isabel. He found the ocean and learnt about the rest of the world with his team and his Hange.

But they're not here anymore. Farlan's soft voice and Isabel's delighted laugh don't ring in his ears. He doesn't have Erwin's calm, determined presence to show him the path forward. Hange's gentle, caloused hand doesn't hold his anymore.

It's not the first time he has to navigate through a strange, unknown world. But it's the first time he does it all by himself.

***

It's his last evening in the hospital, and the nurse is sitting beside him, the book in her hands long forgotten as she carefully studies his profile.

"So," she quietly begins, hands on her knees. "We talked about war and dreams... And what about love?"

Love is dead, Levi wants to say, but is it really?

He looks at the window behind nurse's shoulder, his eyes tracing the faint light emitting from the stars. Even here, in the city, they're bright. Just like her eyes.

And if he strains his hearing a bit, he can hear laughter ringing through the night. It reminds him of her too.

These days, almost everything reminds him of Hange.

It's natural, of course. She saved the world and, before that, she saved him. She left her traces all over, even on him. Every time he looks in the mirror or touches his face, he is reminded of that quiet night, of her gentle touch and her soothing, albeit frantic words.

Hange isn't dead, people like her don't really die, they just leave this world for a while.

And his love... it might have died, but it's not dead. It will always live inside of him, in the depth of his heart that he had devoted to her.

"Love..." he starts, still staring up at the sky. "It hurts. It breaks your heart, it leaves you hollow and empty. And yet... those small moments you share, that short-lived bliss... It's worth all the pain."

"And your love?" the nurse asks, her eyes shining. "Were they worth it?"

"She was," Levi says, but quickly corrects himself. His love might have died, but she's not dead. She just left. Levi can't leave now, he has a little tea shop he has to open and he wants to do at least something, whatever he still can, to make sure that the world she gave them won't disappoint her. But when his time will run out, he will leave too, and then they will meet again, he's sure. "She is still worth it," he murmurs and smiles for the first time since Hange left.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain

The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (TFATWS) Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.3k

Prologue

Summary: Post-blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-blip world.

Notes: This series is based on the Disney+ series with my own interpretation as I include my OC in it. A bit late in the game, but I am back after surviving the whole of last year and now closing into graduation! When I knew that this series was out, I knew it was my chance to make a comeback here! 

This is a prologue to give background on the OC. Also, you will get some insight into her history and relationship with Bucky before TFATWS.

Please enjoy and leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 💖

This is also the unofficial series masterlist:

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven |

----------------------------//----—————————

Wakanda, 5 years ago

“Hey, I just fed you!” Your brows furrowed in frustration as the little runt of a goat continuously followed you to nip on your loose cotton pants.

You could hear a chuckle from the corner when Bucky came into your view. He was carrying a large sack of fertilizer that was to be used for your edible garden.

The frown on your face slowly curved upwards when you see the beautiful smile on his face. How can a single smile make your heart stop and beat wildly at the same time?

You quickly walked over to where he was, looking at how he bent over to set down the sack before flashing you another heart-stopping smile. From that moment, you only wished to always see him being this happy.

“Steve just wants you to pay attention to him.” Your lips quirked when you thought about how he had decided to name an annoying goat after his best pal.

“Can’t blame him when there’s a pretty girl around.” He continued before he proceeded to open the sack.

You did not know to respond to his compliment but you knew that you shouldn’t think more of it. Steve had told you before of how Bucky was like in the past before everything horrible that happened to him. How he was such a charmer with the ladies.

—————————----//-----------------------——

You wouldn’t have expected it, especially when you met him for the first time. When your powers first revealed themselves in an accident while you were barely a teenager, you found yourself panicking at what was happening to you.

You started finding yourself on the run from Hydra before S.H.I.E.L.D got to you. Taken under Coulson’s wing, you were only supposed to be an asset under close surveillance so that you would not fall into the wrong hands. When you became a young adult, you signed up to be an agent seeing how Coulson was close to you like a father. You wanted to follow in his footsteps to help the world become a better place.

However, given the fact that powers make you a target for Hydra, Director Fury asked you to keep your powers on the down-low. You weren’t allowed to use them in front of others and it was a kept secret amongst the higher-ups.

That all changed when the Avengers initiative was founded. You refused the title but accepted the offer to be part of the team. You once again find yourself at the hands of Hydra once it was revealed that S.H.I.E.L.D was infiltrated from the inside.

You unexpectedly got kidnapped in the mess. When you met Alexander Pierce, you were promised to become an asset to Hydra whether you were willing or not. That’s when you first met Bucky.

You didn’t recognise him at first but the photos that Steve had shown you coupled with the ones you saw in the museum allowed you to fit the pieces together. You still remembered his expression when you first called him by his real name. He didn’t get it at first before you started shouting his full name. That earned you a slap from Pierce himself before he got Rumlow to haul you back into a cell.

As time passed in a blur, the last thing you expected was Bucky breaking you out of your cell and the two of you escaped together. You two stuck like glue throughout the entire time in Romania before he got involved in a crime he didn’t commit.

You fought for him and revealed your powers publicly for the first time. While he and Steve managed to escape, you were arrested for choosing the wrong side and being deemed a threat to global security.

Fast forward, you were brought to Wakanda with Bucky and Steve trusted you to take care of his best pal while he continued to be on the run.

Here you are now, living on a farm with Bucky ever since his programming has been removed. Even though Steve is his best pal, Bucky still feels a distance between him and Steve. They had been separated for more than 70 years after all.

While Steve had only the best intentions for him, Bucky knew he could never be the same old person he was before Hydra happened. Bucky felt like you were the only one who accepts him for who he truly is.

A broken man still trying to recover from his dark past. A man who will never be the same.

You never expected him to become someone else, but only embraced him for who he is. He was grateful that you were always patient with him when he fell into his terrible moods from the aftermath of his nightmares. Bucky felt even more blessed when he saw how you always make him smile and laugh more, reminding him that he is not truly alone and that you were someone he could depend on.

Bucky still feels like it is a dream that he now has you by his side. Who knew that the S.H.I.E.L.D agent that had been planned to become another fist of Hydra alongside him would be the closest person he had now?

The two of you shared more similarities than you realised. Both of you had dreamed of the day you two can stop fighting. Being exposed to the real world since you were a young teen, you started growing weary of it all. You had hoped to find yourself in social work once you retired from this life of constant fighting. Bucky didn’t have any plans for himself for the future but he always hoped you would still be willing to be there beside him.

It seemed easy to define your relationship, right? You two were definitely friends. Confidants, perhaps? There was a constant gnawing feeling in your gut if you two could ever be more. Your feelings for Bucky became stronger with the time you two spent together, but you weren’t sure if it was only because he has been the only constant in your life for the last five years.

While the two of you had your close moments, Bucky never gave the hint that it could allude to more. You weren’t super keen to ruin your friendship either. Bucky has become someone so important in your life that you did not want to lose him. There was no way you want to change anything even if it meant suppressing the growing feelings you had for him.

The thoughts in your head were suddenly interrupted when you hear people approaching. Turning back, you saw King T’Challa and Okoye approaching with more soldiers following behind carrying a case. Bucky stopped his current actions and the two of you proceeded to walk closer to where they stood. You could see the change in his demeanour when the two of you approached closer and saw the case to reveal a new metal arm- specifically Vibranium.

It was a moment of silence as everyone exchanged looks before Bucky spoke.

“Where’s the fight?” You could hear the dread in his voice. Your heart fell at his crestfallen expression, empathising with what he was feeling.

King T’Challa was not oblivious to it either but proceeded to give his response. “On its way.”

You didn’t realise you were holding your breath all this time until you let out an exhale. Looking over to see Bucky with a conflicted expression, your hand reached out to place your hands gently on Bucky’s left shoulder and gave a soft reassuring pat.

You mustered a brave front and showed him a reassuring smile.

“We will get through this together, Buck. As always.” Hoping your words would make him feel better, you were relieved when he returned a smile back at you.

Seeing your optimism no matter the circumstances (especially when the world might potentially come to an end), Bucky Barnes felt like he could do anything as long you were by his side.

[haravath0t]

A Step Into The Light

Pairing: Loki x Reader (female reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning(s): angst, fluff, a comforting Loki! 

Hello, everyone! We are going to kick off the 200 followers celebration with our first fics from gifs prompt sent in by the lovely @tomholland-96 !! This is my second Loki work so forgive me, as I’m trying my best to emulate my characterization of him! If you want to take part in the 200 followers celebration, please take a look at the pinned post on my page so that you can see the details! It may be slow until the 20th because the Spring Semester is becoming close to its end, so we are grinding till we reach the finish line folks! Enjoy reading my lovelies! HERE WE GO!

(Gif used not mine)

Prompt: “Loki listens to reader rambling about something and realizes that he loves her.”

Loki spends most of his days and nights to himself, burying his nose into the pages of old books whenever he possibly can. He would sneak off in the middle of the night in order to place himself near shelves of books, finding solace in the simple calm of the night that came alongside the pleasing sounds of pages being turned. The night he had first talked to you was no different, as the beams coming from the moon shone through the glass window and into the room, reminding him of the same nights that he had done this back on Asgard. 

This quick remembrance of his old home was then pushed aside as he made himself comfortable, wanting to delve into the work of the highly recommended William Shakespeare. Tonight he had opted to read Romeo and Juliet, a recommendation from the brooding super soldier with the metal arm. Bucky, he remembered. Halfway through Act 1, his gaze averted from the page for the first time tonight, hearing the sound of a book dropping, a book that surely was not from his pile beside him. He heard a tiny curse from the next room, causing his eyes to furrow before he stands up cautiously, quietly walking towards the direction of the voice. 

“Sorry, that was all me,” you say, popping up from the wall next door, eyes tightly shut in humiliation that you were easily discovered by the god. “I… I was just on my way to return some books, that's all.” You managed to squeak out, opening your eyes and immediately keeping your gaze onto the floor. 

Loki had seen you around the compound before. You were quiet, shy to new people, yet he was also able to see how you were through familiar friends which had caused him to take a quiet interest in you. Despite your fiery persona during missions, he had seen you to be quite the opposite in the compound. He saw the extra care that you had put in everyone, as if you knew what they all needed. He’d see the way you’d bring coffee to Tony while he worked away in his lab, or how you would wake up in the morning to run with Steve, Bucky, and Sam (despite your tired state coming back). He’d also see how you would willingly cook meals for everyone during the times when you were available, surprisingly even remembering him. Thor had brought him a plateful of dinner his first night in, saying that you had offered this to him in case he felt hungry. Much to his surprise, he quite enjoyed it. Despite his unwillingness to join the team for times such as these, he would often consider to go against his usual routine for the sake of seeing just how you would act towards him. However, it secretly had hurt him to see your current state, your gaze towards the ground as your back was slightly hunched in intimidation. It reminded him of the image that had been held by him. 

“Are you going to return the books or not?” He hears himself say. He immediately regrets the tone he had spoken in, watching as you slightly twitch at the tone. 

“Oh, yeah… mmm… sorry. I’ll make this quick.” You quickly squeak before you shyly go around him, unaware of the way he watches you carefully put away the handful of books that were in your arms. Regret had hit him harder as your eyes met, for your eyes were not filled with hatred as he suspected, but guilt and embarrassment instead. Why could you be so embarrassed, he wondered. You offered him a slight smile when you spotted Romeo and Juliet open on the chair where he sat. 

“Oooh, Romeo and Juliet… it’s a nice read. I hope you enjoy,” you softly say, the last part of your sentence slowly trailing off before you make your way at the door. However, before you head out, you freeze. “Oh, I also want to apologize. I didn’t wanna give you too much trouble, I didn’t realize you were still here.” You blurt out, embarrassed once again at your awkwardness. 

Loki only raised an eyebrow at you, his body now facing yours. “That I’m still here? What makes you come to this reasoning?”

You point to the clock, your tiny attempt to justify your reasoning. “Oh, this is the normal time I come to read. I know you like to read alone, so I tend to go in after you that’s all. It’s okay though! Romeo and Juliet is a nice read! It was a nice introduction to Shakespeare-“ 

Loki couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on his face hearing you talk about your experience on reading Romeo and Juliet. However, you quickly stop yourself, smiling shyly as you straighten yourself up. “Well, I don’t wanna end up spoiling you, but it’s actually good! I promise!” He did not have any time to respond as you quickly bolted out of the sitting area without looking  back. He concluded to himself to come in later than his usual time.

It took a few months before you loosened up around the god of mischief, finding yourselves meeting up at night to stay in each other’s company. From reading the same books, to taking night walks around the compound, Loki had begun to slowly ease into your company. Thor had taken notice of his brother becoming less tense, more tolerable, and even more present in the compound. Thor’s suspicions have been answered when he heard a laugh outside his window. As his curiosity had led him to peek out the window, he saw his own brother walking beside you. He was carrying a soft smile on his lips as you and him conversed. Thor had not let go of it since that night. 

“Is there something about you and Y/N that I should know, brother?” He asks Loki, a wide grin on his face as he walks with his brother from sparring in the gym. Loki’s eyes widen at the bold question, his eyebrows immediately furrowing. 

“I know you two hang out and all, I assumed that there’s something going on between the both of you that’s all.”

“Bold assumption, brother. Even for me. No, there is nothing going on, just being friendly that’s all.”

Thor scoffed at this, shaking his head as he lets out a chuckle. “I don’t think whatever I saw you both doing was just friendly.” 

Loki cocked an eyebrow, visibly lost at the words of his brother. “I don’t understand. We walk, talk, and read. Like any normal friend would. How is that past friendly?” 

“Don’t talk like that, brother. I know what you are trying to do. Have you seen yourself around us? You avoid the team so often, yet when she invites you to do something with her, you do it willing-” 

“How do you even know this?” Loki hisses, interrupting the blond from his statement and taking a step backwards. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing going on. Her and I are merely partners in reading. You don’t understand at all. There will be nothing more than what we have.” 

Loki only looked at Thor in surprise when he let out a boisterous laugh, brows furrowing as the god had an even wider grin than before. “You listen, brother, listen well. I think you are in denial. You are afraid to get your feelings hurt because of her. You are afraid anything more than this will drive you away.” Thor starts, pointing a finger at the confused god. Before he interrupts, Thor continues. “You shouldn’t have to fret brother. We both know that even a mischievous god like yourself deserves someone like her. I think she’s a fine lady. Balances you out quite well. One day, I know you’ll realize this, and I’ll tell you ‘I told you so.’ ”

Loki can only watch his brother retreat back to his room that night, standing in bewilderment before opting to end the night. 

Loki had stirred the next morning to a gentle knock, wondering who could wake him up at the crack of dawn. He padded his way to the door, surprised at the sight of you, hair messy, baggy pajamas, and a notably tired face. 

“Why, isn’t this a surprise,” He starts, his form visibly relaxing at the familiar face, his voice also softening. “What is it, my dear?” 

“Sorry, I know you don’t like company, but you’re the only person I really trust at this point.” You say with a shy smile, your bed voice apparent. 

“Surely Rogers or Barnes and all may be better help-”

He stops the moment you shake your head, tears immediately welling up as you hug yourself, his heart breaking at the sight. “Oh petal…” he sighs, not hesitating to wrap a protective arm around you to lead you inside. 

You had begun to burst into tears as he led you to his bed, Loki sitting the two of you down as your emotions ran free. Loki silently encouraged you as you let your tears fall, showing no signs in wanting you to stop. He hesitantly raised a hand, slowly bringing strands of your hair out of your face and tucking them behind your hair as he watched. His heart broke once again that morning, not used to seeing your normally upbeat and optimistic self broken and helpless. It felt like he was seeing a part of himself in you, a part he hated to see and recognize. However, seeing this in a person like you made him all the more closer to you. There possibly was a place where you two understood each other more. 

It had led him to gently wiping your tears with a gentle touch of his thumb. It was hesitant, but the touch alone made you relax, reminding you of the reality that there was someone beside you who could possibly ground you, who could possibly offer you some perspective. The god continued to wipe your tears as the wave of emotions had died down to sniffles and a quiet thank you. 

Why of all people did you come to him? What had concerned you so much to have led yourself to his room? He couldn’t help but ask the question. “If I may, what has happened to have brought you here to me?” 

You sighed and leaned into his body, your body tired from the crying. “Bad dream…” you start off. “Loki… what do you do when... When you feel like you’re not enough? When you feel like you don’t really have earned your place into this team?” 

Loki furrowed his eyebrows and nodded in understanding, very familiar with the new condition she had provided him. “Well, from what Thor tells me, I should be aware that I am more than what that part of me thinks I am. More than what other label that others have put on me,” he starts, looking at the floor in thought. “But…. we don’t truly move on from that easily, don’t we?” He questions, his eyes now directed to yours, surprised that they’ve been attentive, as if holding onto his every move, every word that has slipped from his lips. You shake your head. 

“No… it’s been a little while since I’ve felt this way, but this time it came back in my sleep. I can’t help but feel doubtful. There are more capable agents out there in our facility. Why me? What have I done to earn this place?” You confess, shifting your weight on the bed side to side nervously, afraid that you are slowly driving the god away. Afraid you are saying more than he wanted to say. However, the reassurance you were having is his attentive gaze as well as the hand that was now holding yours. 

“Petal, I assure you, from what I have seen of you, your work ethic exceeds all others. You are talented and gifted. One thing that had taken me a while to realize… I still struggle with it as well… it is not only the advantages that we hold that define who we are, but it is also our struggles, what we do with these struggles and hardships… those have equal value into defining who we are. And from how the team sees you? I believe they know that you have used it for the good and the betterment of others. It doesn’t go unappreciated.” A small beat of pause fills the air before he continues. 

“I…. personally am grateful for your company. I am grateful that you have been good to me. I’m glad to be...friends… friends with you.” 

He had tried his best to ignore the feeling of his heart leaping when the hint of a smile had graced your face. 

“You think so?”

Loki’s lips tempt to curl up into a smile as he nods. “I know so. Now, what do you do to relieve yourself from your troubles?” He inquires, having this urge to keep taking part in making you feel better. It grants him a sense of satisfaction when your smile widens. 

“Snacks in bed while I watch some videos of my favorite place.” You reply, which made Loki immediately sit you both in his emerald green blankets, adjusting the pillows as they become a makeshift headrest for your heads. You gasp in surprise as he had made ice cream appear with a green glow beside you both as you set up the TV. 

“Gee, my favorite flavor,” you gasped in awe, looking at Loki gratefully. “Thank you.” 

Loki can only chuckle and shrug as you resume your search on YouTube. “I have taken note of it one night. I’m glad I was correct.” 

You pulled up a video of a ride from Disneyland, smiling as you ate ice cream and watched the familiar ride take its course. 

“So what’s special about this place?” You hear the god question. You didn’t hold back the smile that graced your face. 

“Oh, it’s the most amazing place! You see, Disneyland is this theme park- oh I want to ask Tony so bad, but there you-” 

It made Loki smile, watching your eyes light up as you went on talking about something you took interest in. He managed to make you do it again. It was a refreshing sight.  

Loki never really appealed to many people in the compound. He hated watching Stark’s prideful personality take the reins of meetings or even dinner. He hated how Rogers’ surge of righteousness always oozed out, whether it was from his little “monologues” or even from the way he had walked around the facility. He’d easily find a way to block their voices out of his head. However, you were a different case. 

He admired how often you rambled. He found it amusing that you found so much love and passion for almost anything and everything you saw or heard. He found it pure that someone who had an excellent ethic out in the battlefield had this love for living. It made him think that perhaps living on Midgard would not be the worst thing. However, he realized one thing as you paused to eat some ice cream before rambling on. He could not be able to step into Midgard with this mindset without you. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to fully discover what Midgard can hold without you. He was proud to admit to himself that he knew you on a level that was different from how others knew you. He saw you as a quiet, yet powerful force to have walked on Midgard. Yes you were quiet and shy, even self-cautious, but your empathy towards everyone, even to a person like himself, had made him realize, maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe there was a chance to be out of this dark corner that he had been placed in. He felt like it would only happen if you were willing to hold his hand through it all. 

You blushed when you realized you were rambling, immediately halting your thoughts and words. “Sorry, I must have bored you.” 

He smiled at your consideration for his side. “Not at all, petal.” 

“Hey… you think we can go there one day together? I’d love to have you as a riding buddy.”  

The way your eyes lit in excitement and expectation alongside your joyful smile made him reciprocate your joy with his own lips. 

“It would be a great honor, petal.” 

Thor was right. Maybe indeed there was something more that Loki had yearned for when it came to you. He was uncertain of how it would turn out, but he was willing to see how it would unfold as long as it meant you would be around.

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[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Nine

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 3.8k author note :: omg hiiii it’s been a while and today’s my birthday so i’m feeling pretty happy :-) i’ve been busy with exams and what not so this chapter would have been longer but oh well it’s still over the usual word count of 2ishk!! → next part found here !!

Instead of taking your frustration out on anyone else you take it out on your ODM gear. Anger is best used up resourcefully and you find practice goes by quicker when you imagine the look of horror Levi will have on his face when he sees just how much you've improved in recent weeks.

You sustain a number of bruises, scratches and scars the more daring you get but you take them as accolades indicating your dedication. Erwin occasionally encourages you in his office and informs you of how your commitment shows how you prioritise the safety of your people.

He's incorrect. The people of Paradis are not your people. You hold no relation or similarity to them aside from the fact you all happen to be human. Your people are the people of the Negri Republic.

You think of them every training session, tell yourself you're fortunate to be alive and if it were any other citizen of the Republic they would be working ten times as hard. They would grind their bones to dust just to prove their worth. Stepping above everyone else and working for a place in the top three.

So that's exactly what you do. You work yourself till you're sure you don't have possession of your own body, the spirits of the dead haunt you now that you've been left in the harrowing silence of lost life.

Guilt catches up to you. It nips at your skin and forms goosebumps all over your arms the one time you and the cadets happen to be allowed out to venture into town.

The people of Negri will never be able to bask in such a privilege.

Yet here you are, the only survivor of the attack, basking in that freedom .

You believe you hold no licence to deserve it.

It's another Friday, your shirt is soaked in sweat and you cringe internally as you peel it away from your skin now safe within the confines of the shower rooms.

Another lonesome night for you. Mikasa has fallen asleep long ago and you've just retired from another late night training session.

The air bites at you and you jolt jerking your hand away when the water you come into contact with is ice cold.

You should have remembered warm water is closed off after ten but it completely slipped your mind.

Sniffing at your skin you wince at the earthy scent mixed in with your perspiration.

You can't not shower but the prospect of having to endure the cold water isn't appealing in the slightest.

Fine, you'll get up early and hope to shower before breakfast when warm water is available. If you dare to become ill at this pivotal moment you're back to square one. If Levi has no use for you, you're once again as good as dead.

Groaning you unwind and restart. Pulling your undergarments back on you stare at your sodden clothing. Wearing your damp uniform just to sneak back into your dorm isn't at all appealing and you curse yourself for forgetting to bring your night gown.

No one else is awake anymore and if they are they should be all the way at the other end of the base, you're sure you'll be able to slip away into the shadows and make it to your room within two minutes.

It's a risk but you'll take it, there's no way you're wearing those clothes again. If you make it to your room you can change into your nightwear and sleep. It'll be uncomfortable due to not showering but you'll make do with it.

Pushing your head out into the hallway it's dark and you sigh in relief, your ears are attentive waiting on any sounds but when you hear nothing you assume it's safe to make a move.

But, that's where you're wrong.

One foot out into the hallway you've already been caught red handed.

"Looks like I was forced to married an oaf who just so happens to have a thing for voyeurism." The cynicism is dripping in none other than Levi Ackerman's voice but you don't shrink away despite your vulnerability.

Like a cat you can hear Levi almost silently saunter up to you from behind and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Expecting him to berate you you're surprised when he doesn't sound as scornful as he did a few seconds prior.

"Would you like to use the shower in my quarters? The water's warm."

You'd be an idiot to reject the offer and as much as you hate the feeling of unease you feel around Levi you'll put up with it if it means you're able to rub soap against your skin and smell clean whilst you sleep.

You're standing in his shower staring at all of the varieties of body wash he has lined up against the wall. As expected of him his bathroom is meticulously spotless without any dirt in sight.

A little whine escapes your mouth when the hot water hits you for the first time. You sigh feeling satiated as well as satisfied.

Feeling a little lightheaded you rub the pleasant scent onto your skin eagerly. After a long days worth of training you feel rewarded and fulfilled just by being able to indulge in the luxury of warm water.

Suddenly your eyes shift they expand, turning from relaxed to completely appalled. Memories of your home town flood into your mind all at once, memories you don't even recall owning. Flashes of what looks to be fiery red hair, then segments of bloodcurdling screams follow in pursuit.

The soap has slipped out of your hand colliding with the floor and the rather loud noise that follows is enough to have Levi knocking on the door of the bathroom.

Hurrying to finish up you try to act as if what happened didn't just happen but to your discontent you only end up feeling more distressed.

Those aren't your memories you don't recall who they belong to. Have they perhaps been triggered by something?

Looking around the bathroom you come to find that you forgot you hadn't brought your night clothes with you,, again. Hands making their way to rest onto your forehead you groan audibly.

Again your thought process is cut off by Levi's knocking "Hey, did you pass out or something?" and with urgency you finish before he knocks the door down from impatience.

Poking your head out you avoid his gaze.

"What is it runt?" Levi's unimpressed voice asks once again reminding you of his presence.

"I forgot to bring my clothes."

A moment of silence follows your sentence and you're convinced he'll tell you to deal with the problem yourself when he tells you to return inside. But, a few minutes pass and he cracks the door open to shove one of his button ups at you alongside a pair of loose-fitting pants.

Quietly thanking him you take the clothing from him, they're good enough to cover most of the areas you'd like sheltered from prying eyes.

After you're done dressing yourself you practice your breathing in the mirror and for the most part you think you're alright until your mind drifts back to the unexplained fiery red hair.

Finally getting a hold of yourself in spite of all the unanswered questions you escape into his room and make a dash for the door hoping he's occupied elsewhere or has drifted off to sleep allowing you to flee.

"Stop."

Gritting the top and bottom row of your teeth against each other you scowl before masking it away and turning to face Levi.

"You're working hard for Paradis I see."

Meeting his eyes for the first time in a long time you're riled up, the heat in your chest rises and it finally reaches the summit when you sense you're shaking in maddening annoyance.

"I do not work hard for Paradis. I have not forgot the way you massacred my people."

He shrugs his shoulders calmly. "If you say so, and if you must know. I did not order the hit. I did my job, that is all."

He seems almost amused seeing your expression twist around trying to decipher if he is of reliability or not.

"You're a murderer. What is so humorous?" The blunt delivery of your question is sufficient enough to bring an end to Levi's fleeting grin. His face automatically drops and his brows knit together.

Levi is left stunned and speechless. For the first time in his life he doesn’t know what to say because you're correct.

Giving his regretful expression one last disappointed look you storm off. You need to sleep if there's any chance of you waking up tomorrow.

Little do you know that two pairs of eyes watch you leave Levi's quarters that night.

One of those pairs does not belong to Levi.

Training is about pace but with the pent up steaming fury that resides inside of you you're sure you can move up the ranks much earlier than you previously estimated.

Positions, rank and status are what you need to obtain for Levi's plan to happen with no disruptions, if you're no good as a soldier there's no reason to continue persevering through the scrupulous hours of hard work and exercise.

There are points at which you struggle, it's difficult moving on alone knowing that you've been left completely unaccompanied and to your own devices but you make it work. You always have.

The feeling of loneliness is something you should have long got used to within the walls of the palace but after experiencing love and affection for the first time in years it's easier said than done to let it all go.

But you do.

You have to let go of your feelings for Levi to move forward.

All the faith and hope you truly have are placed in Sasha and Mikasa. You trust them with your life and one night after training as you look into your own eyes in the fogged up mirror of the shower rooms you come to the conclusion that you do not trust Levi Ackerman with your life and if you do not trust him with your life what is there to love about him?

The incessant name calling? The relentless pestering? The persistent hot and cold behaviour?

The man who sits at the other side of the hall eating his dinner is not Lev. The look in his eyes is completely different, the way he holds cups is different so is the way they make jokes and most importantly the way they act and you've now come to terms with that. No more allowing him to push you around whenever he pleases, no more succumbing to his touch.

The only orders you'll follow are the ones which permit for you to keep your life. That is all that matters. Nothing will ever matter if you die a meaningless death.

You came to the conclusion not too long ago that forming a clear distinction between Lev and Levi would be pivotal in progressing. After the mess caused by Jean in the hallway and your rude remark it's obvious you should. For the record you do stand by what you said. Levi Ackerman is a bitter hag, but you decide it's for the better that you bottle your emotions and your ever increasing feelings of animosity. You won't allow for them to interfere with your task. You've come here to save your life and that's it.

Lazily you poke at the meat on your plate not feeling particularly hungry today, there isn't much reason to be. Most of the training you've now become used to and you no longer feel exhausted after the training sessions. Instead you feel rather accomplished, you never saw yourself as much of a fighter but you think you've finally got the hang of it now.

Your progress has come as a shock to everyone around you and the cadets who were so quick to make judgement on the first day now come to you for advice. Whenever they approach with awkward smiles you can't help but feel bitter but you never refuse to aid them because what kind of person would that make you?

You haven't realized but all you've done today at dinner is sit and repeatedly jab your chicken with your fork, you nudge it left then bump it right. Eating is the last topic of interest on your mind right now. Recently all you've been able to think about are the people of your Republic. You were never able to ask what happened to your nation, what happened to your people. Illegitimate daughter or not it was still your kingdom and you keep mulling over the possibility of asking Levi about it.

You would have asked long ago but you think he won't give you an answer. After all there is no real reason for him to tell you what he did.

"MAIL!!" Marco's yell is enough to break you out of your deep thoughts all the cadets get to their feet running up to the front and practically submerging him after he's just come dashing in with this week's packages and parcels.

Connie's the first to retrieve his package. His mother is always reminding him in her letters and parcels of how proud she is of him, how she hopes he's eating well and is healthy. Your heart tingles for him. Maternal love is a lovely blessing and you wish you had it yourself but that doesn't stop you from feeling pleased on his behalf.

Everyone receives letters from home without fail, Everyone apart from you, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie. You've taken a keen note of that detail. The higher ups tend to never receive any mail unless it's from the military. They could have family who are dead or alive but it'll most probably remain a mystery to you.  Maybe there will come a time where all the cadet's families will stop writing too. The reasons as to why may be ambiguous but you can only hope their families remain healthy despite the dangerous terrain of Paradis.

"You never get any mail why is that Y/N?" Armin one of the younger cadets pokes his head over your shoulder, his blonde hair falls over his eyes and his innocent voice is unaware of how dark the true answer to his question is.

You shrug your shoulders forcing yourself to cut some of the chicken you have yet to touch.

"Mother and Father raised me to be independent they were never the caring type." You say shoving a piece of chicken into your mouth, you can't leave the plate unmoved.

He hums in response buying the explanation but Annie clearly doesn't, she's glaring right at you as she swirls her spoon in her soup rather aggressively. She's been looking at you with increasing intensity these past few days but you don't address it. You aren't able to tell if that's her normal resting face, all you really know for certain is that her Hawk like gaze only flicks away when you make eye contact with her.

"How about you Annie you never get any- " Just as Armin begins his sentence Annie's smoldering gaze meets his and it's enough to stop him.

You and Annie most definitely aren't amicable but you know how annoying the intrusive questions can get when you have no real answer to provide people with so you choose to step in and alleviate the growing tension.

"Annie isn't one to dabble in small talk, I'm sure she'll open up with time." Annie grunts and gets to her feet, she shoots you an Armin a subterranean glare demanding you understand she isn't going to carry on being interrogated. She isn't even thankful for your intermission.

"Did I anger her?" Armin is so aware and in touch with others feelings because you honestly can't tell how she feels. Maybe she thinks she's superior to you, maybe she's frustrated like Armin suggests or maybe that's her natural demeanor.

"I'm not sure, she seems to just be this way." You won't get his hopes up high by falsifying an explanation, you'll just provide him with your honest opinion.

Bertholdt looks as if he's about to join your conversation but Reiner places a firm palm onto his shoulder before whispering a word of warning into his ear. Bertholdt indicates his agreement by looking away and making conversation with Connie who is sitting across them enthusiastically pointing at the letter his mother has sent him this time around.

Behind you Jean shuffles out of his seat he approaches your table and places a candle onto the wooden surface. "One for you." He announces, and then he places one more next to Mikasa's plate "And, one for you Mikasa."

The both of you exchange looks Mikasa is as plain faced as usual but she murmurs a thank you and both you and Jean know she isn't just saying that she does mean it she's just not that great at expressing it. You move over and give him some space to sit down with you both.

"Oh my, are these those special editions from the city square?" You rotate the candle in your hand looking at it before gently inhaling some of it. Vanilla, Jasmine and hints of coffee flood your system and you sigh dreamily.

"It's so lovely, my you didn't have to?"

"I wanted to, besides what was I to do with that many candles? Mother got over excessive and sent far too many and I know you liked that sort of stuff. I remember seeing your maid carrying some essential oils and fragrances when I met you in the city."

He's spoken a bit too much and you give him an alarmed look, it's slipped his mind to not mention he's encountered you before but much to your dismay Reiner's inquisitive ears have already heard what's been said.

"Kirstein and you, what have you got going on?" Reiner's back at it forming false conspiracy theories in his head you can tell that much just by looking at him.

You huff and shake your head, "I believe he's got me mixed up with someone else I've never even met him before arriving here."

As soon as you've spoke you've realize your mistake when Connie turns to face the both of you, his eyebrow is cocked up in confusion and he keeps his eyes on you contemplating if he should reveal what he knows.

Begging him with your eyes isn't enough because he just has to open his big mouth and join in.

"Did you and Jean not say you knew each other? I remember it, on the first day you said something like it was a small world if you ran into him again."

Reiner's amused by this all and is fascinated wondering what the reason is for you to bluff like this.

Sucking your bottom lip in not expecting this disruption during dinner you don't know how to save yourself.

"He said you have a maid, would that make you a noble? Only the rich can afford such commodities." Krista cuts in and it's only then you notice everyone crowding around you.

Everyone looking at you makes you uncomfortable and you can't formulate a sentence in your mind that can substitute as a makeshift excuse. Jean has to notice the consequences of his actions because you're playing with your hands under the table evaluating the possible outcomes as his thigh rocks back and forth shaking the floorboards with tension.

Just say the truth.

"My husband, he's a noble so I suppose yes that would make me one too."

The cadets are open mouthed in complete surprise. There are a number of reasons for why this could be the case. Firstly you're married, secondly you're a noble, thirdly as of now only two nobles that have been made known to the cadets, those two are Duke Ackerman and Viscount Kirstein they're probably speculating if the two know who your husband is.

"Someone married you of all the women in this city? And that person's a noble?" At that you don't know how to feel. The added insult to injury upsets you but you don't make it visible.

"Enough." Erwin's firm tone is enough to settle everyone down and the rumour mill stops temporarily.

Levi doesn't do as much as look at you whilst the situation plays out. He continues nonchalantly looking through some letters the military have sent over to the base. It's for the best he doesn't draw attention to himself right now.

Then everything plays out the same way it did the day those cadet's talked badly about your performance, everything plays out the same way as when you lived in your father's palace. Every one swamping you, engulfing you and you find it hard to breathe. Throat constricting your unease only heightens. Giggles and mumbles then whispers of "So she bribed her way up here?" and "Count on a noble to cheat the system."

"I saw her leave Captain Ackerman's quarters a few days back."

That's enough to push you out the room, you don't even realize what you're doing until your legs have carried you out and you can hear heavy footsteps follow after you. It's silent whilst you plot a route towards the training grounds but whoever is behind you is still following behind you loyally. You're too worn out to check in on who it is.

"Y/N, we need to discuss this." You recognize the voice to be Jean's,  it's unusual that he's bothered to follow you outside.

Brows furrowed and shadows cast over your face you can't help but visibly present your emotions. Moving to take a seat on a staircase you hunch yourself forward breathing in and out shallowly, get a grip, slow your breathing. At this point both you and Jean have ventured so far into the base that there's no way anyone will be able to find you both for a while.

Normally you would burst into tears if something like this were to happen but you can't make yourself feel anything apart from simmering dissatisfaction. Whether it's directed at Jean, at yourself, at Connie, you don't really know the specifics.

You're able to harden your exterior this time, Levi is going to kill you there's no use in you being here if your identity is discovered, you've ultimately failed the one task you've been given.

"Ease yourself. Mikasa said she'd handle it I trust her, you trust her."

"We'll dig ourselves out of this mess, I assure you." Jean is droning on and slowly the sound of his voice fades away as you stare at the white wall behind him. He's explaining his viewpoint but he clearly doesn't understand you at all. Of course he isn't informed enough to understand. why you're panicked. You don't blame him.

"Just leave me alone for a second I'd like to think without anyone else present."

Jean sighs deeply but respects your request. He walks away from you although he clearly doesn't wish to do so.

[caitsyoi]

I made a post about the Seraphites, so now I want to make one about the WLF. This post is mostly about the WLF's home base, aka the stadium and the area immediately around it. I've included some of my favorite pictures, and my thoughts and observations about where they live and their culture.

Under the cut again to keep things nice and clean.

I gotta say, this blew my mind when I first saw this as Abby. The WLF really have their shit together. Multiple power sources, a bunch of the resources FEDRA left behind, and multiple food sources. The field has cattle, sheep, and chickens plus some farming. On the steps they have even more areas for farming. They have a way to collect water, and even people to design and string up their logo everywhere.

It makes sense, supposedly thousands of people live here (you can't see it unless except via glitch, but there is also baseball stadium immediately next to this that they might also occupy).

We only see where Abby and other soldiers (perhaps squad leaders?) live. They have a pretty cushy life, two per luxury box (the rooms NFL teams overcharge for that run along the upper level of stadiums). Mel also mentions a special area for young families, I wouldn't be surprised if these areas were further divided. Perhaps there is also housing for larger families and single people who aren't soldiers or squad leaders. I very much wonder if those who join the military get better housing than those that work as farmers (or dishwashers, teachers, laundry washers, cooks, etc.). As mentioned earlier, Abby and Manny live in a luxury box, and there are 112 of those in the stadium this is based on. That's housing for 224 people, if they all live like the people in Abby's hallway. That would mean there has to be more housing in other parts of the stadium.

This stadium was once used by FEDRA, and you can see the concrete barriers they left behind along the edge of the field. They have to have more cattle than this, to feed all the people that supposedly live under the WLF. There is farmland around the stadium (more on that later), so maybe they mostly let them graze out there, then move some in when they plan on slaughtering them soon.

I love that they have wind turbines AND solar panels. You can see the influence that the Fireflies had on Issac and the WLF, they really focus on stability and restoring what was lost (at least when it comes to comfort). So they have electricity, sustainable food sources (and multiple kinds too), and a way to collect water (you can't see it in this shot, but they use a system similar to Jackson's, just on a much wider scale).

They teach a curriculum similar to what was taught to kids before the outbreak. We only see two classrooms, but from what I can tell they try to give the gives the type of education they could have received in the old days (as best they can, at least). Both the teachers you see are pretty young, which makes me wonder who taught them.

Most of the kinds you see in class are pretty young, like less than 10. These look a little order (they are outside the stadium in the market area, which I will talk about more a little later). I wonder how long WLF children are required to attend school (I think I saw a sign for 1st through 6th grade, so at least that?). I imagine they get a basic education with some broad looks into various topics, and maybe the ones most apt for study are selected to do specialized careers like teaching or meteorology. Other children are probably pushed into farming or the military portion of the WLF. Regardless of what they study, they probably also get a heavy dose of WLF propaganda. That aligns with how gung-ho many of them are to fight.

I wonder if military service is compulsory, like everyone has has to do at least so much time and then they can do other things if they want. Or maybe they make it so you don't have to fight if you don't want to, but those that do get better perks.

Most of the WLF you see appear to be in their 20's or 30's, or at least the fighters. That would mean they have spent most (if not all) of their lives under military rule, and they would have a special allegiance to the WLF since they manage things so much better than FEDRA did. Plus, you know, all that propaganda. I imagine they are told a lot about how the WLF is restoring society and how the WLF saved them from FEDRA/Scars/infected.

Sorta related, I thought of an WLF AU. Ellie grows up in Seattle under the WLF, perhaps with Riley and Dina and the other characters from canon. So many interesting things can be done with this, but that's for another post maybe.

This is one the cafeteria's the WLF use. I believe this is one of a few, although this is the only one you see. There is also a butcher and small market for clothing and items here too. They prepare food here, but I think the majority of cooking is done in an area set up for it in the stands.

They have posted meal times for groups A-F, and separate meal times for children and the late night patrol. So maybe this is the only cafeteria? Each end is blocked off, so maybe they use some of the corridor that circles the stadium for more living quarters.

This is also community space where they can play games, chat, or read. There also seems to be a mix of soldiers and other workers eating together, as well as young families (there is at least 1 or 2 women with young babies in here).

This little detail was super cute to me, but it also tells you a lot about WLF society. Everyone has a job to do, there is a role and place for everyone to contribute.

I'll talk more about this in another post (titled "It's Silly to Call a Post-apocalyptic Group 'Fascists', but Still the WLF Is Pretty Messed Up"), but an important thing to remember about the WLF is that everything comes down to Issac. He has the final say on everything, he makes all the major decisions, he picks squad leaders, he decides who needs to be punished, he's basically the Supreme Leader. Issac has been shown to be somewhat progressive with some things (you can follow whatever religion you want or none at all in the WLF, the WLF has no problem with LGBTQ people, you can get medical waivers for military duty, they provide support for pregnant women and parents, etc.), and in other ways he is very much the opposite (he punishes anyone who disagrees with him - this could be a relatively light punishment of a crappy assignment or it could be a beating, then there's the whole attempted genocide thing). Anyway, my point is that there are good things about the WLF, but also there is a serious darkside.

Anyway, when I saw this lady and her baby I immediately thought of Dina doing this with JJ while she gardens.

I absolutely loveeeee this little detail. A mural for the fallen. This really reminds me of some stuff you could see today, just replace the wolf with an eagle and make the uniforms camo.

There are 46ish names on this wall, so I wonder if it is continuously updated or if there are multiple murals, because they definitely have lost more people than that over the years. Also, there are about 150 people at the FOB (the amount of bodies at the FOB, yes I counted) that will need to be added. Maybe the war with the Seraphites just really exploded in the last few weeks (or maybe longer) leading up to Ellie's arrival.

I love that you can pause during the ride with Abby, Mel, and Manny to look around the outside of the stadium. Immediately outside there are train tracks and what appears to be a large market running along side of it. This is on the west side of the stadium, I believe. A major highway intersection is also nearby.

The market has all sorts of goods, food, gas, clothing, cleaning products, TVs and other electronics, records, and even more. I wonder if this is some sort of intake area for any goods they bring back to the base. But who runs these little shops? From some notes you can find we know their economy runs on trade, so how does this work?

Once you get past the market area, you see a pretty vast section of farmland. I loved this shot because it also shows one of their rain water storage areas. They mark this water as to be used only for irrigation, so they must use something else for people to drink and bathe with. Or maybe they just filter some water for people to use, and the rest goes to the plants.

In the background you can see the wall and a guard tower. There is a larger wall (like much larger, I'm talking maybe 5 stories) around the QZ, and a smaller one that runs around the stadium.

This is labeled "Checkpoint #4", so I'm not sure if that means there are other gates, but this is the only one we see in game.

The wall is pretty thick, and you can see these guard towers spaced out all alongside it (much like in Jackson). Once you leave the walls you are immediately surrounded by the wasteland that is post-apocalyptic Seattle.

[harcourtholmesii]

An Officer’s Loyalty (Part 5)

Pairings: Medic X Reader

Words: 1824

Warnings:

- Swearing

- Drugging and Referenced Drugging

- Mentions of Gore

- Mentions and Implied Abuse

Enjoy!

‘You’re welcome to join us.’

 Your gaze remained on the eyes hidden behind welding goggles. The Engineer held a small smile as he offered you such a strange opportunity. He seemed smaller when he spoke, almost sheepish; it was strange to find that there was one man among RED team shorter than yourself.

 The man’s appearance, though still unnerving, was a welcome change from the poking and prodding of the base’s resident doctor, and one, scrawny Scout attempting to peer in on the new ‘recruit’. The Texan had been kind enough to fix your door, replacing it with something far sturdier; it granted you a little privacy despite the constant visits you received from Medic. In a way, the Engineer seemed the only one to be more welcoming and less… whatever Heavy, Medic and Scout were.

 Since you had been drugged, or rather tranquilised, time had flown by. You had been unable to keep up with the hours that passed you by, save for the occasional meal brought in. Simple foods with little taste, potentially avoiding the chance you might not be able to keep it all down.

 Heavy was always the one bringing in the meals for you to eat; he always did so alongside one of the doctor’s visits. He never spoke much, but he did talk with Medic, reminding him you needed food before he ‘sedated’ you again, and exchanging some short, but friendly conversations with the man. It was a strange appearance, looking up at the bear of a man, and not having him gun you down on the spot. He was always intimidating, but he never went out of his way to scare you.

 Scout was, by comparison, an annoyance. He hovered about the room, like a little kid, when Medic visited. He would peer in at whatever was occurring and stare. He seemed just as astounded as you, if not more so, that you were joining RED. Considering he hadn’t attacked you that evening after your surgery, you could only assume someone had told him beforehand. You seriously doubted that he would have worked it out for himself.

 Since that evening, your head had begun to clear, and the entirety of your situation had come back to you. Thanks, in no small part, to Medic’s rambling. Apart from Heavy’s almost indifference, and Scout’s curiosity, Medic was a strange case.

 On one hand, he was the ‘Medic’ for a reason. He came into your new room, tested your breathing and reapplied bandages, all the while reminding you of your agreement and what to expect at RED base. You were at least a little thankful that he reminded you of everything that had happened after your last fight on opposite sides. It helped to clear up the memories in your head and regain your senses when you awoke.

 On the other hand, the Medic caused you a great deal of discomfort. You were never quite sure what was going on in his head, and what he may have been keeping from you; intentionally or otherwise. He would turn serious, or start laughing wildly, or offering you a genuine smile or kinder words. Through it all, you felt confused.

 It wasn’t just his actions that confused you.

 You had started to notice that you appreciated his constant talking, not necessarily registering what he said, but just how he spoke. His excitement, which tended to cause him to slip into his mother tongue, and cause his voice to reach a higher pitch. And then when he spoke to you slower, less excitable but still kind, his voice seemed richer. He was tender with his words, and his voice was slightly deeper. It was unusual.

 You didn’t like how observant you were becoming of the German doctor.

 Certainly, having all the information you needed in case you were betrayed might have been in your best interest, but you knew your notice was not because you were gathering information in a self-preservation sense. Instead, you were lulled to almost relax in the man’s presence, unable to help but stare.

 You told yourself at first that the reason you stared was because of how weird it all was.

 You couldn’t lie to yourself for long, and you started recognising that your cheeks heated up when he complimented how your lungs sounded, or how your heart had looked when he had been holding it. It shouldn’t have been something flattering, in fact, you should have felt scared or sick by his strange comments. Though you felt a little uncomfortable and a bit disturbed, you still hung onto every word he said; a little more each time he spoke.

 Which led you to your current situation.

 You had been astounded, perhaps even a little disappointed, when it had been Engineer that had knocked on your door. You didn’t smile at him when Engineer first entered. You were rather frustrated that you had been forced to accommodate so many people in your private quarters the past two nights. So many visits, unwelcome or otherwise, had left you feeling ragged and worn out.

 ‘Sorry to disturb, but the doc’s gon’ and told us you should be right to move, and I thought you might like to get out of the room. Considerin’ what’s happened, I was wonderin’ if you’d like to come to dinner?’

 Your stomach gurgled painfully at the thought of eating something other than a light soup and some toast. You clutched at it; you could still feel the raw edges of the incision, healed slowly over time by the medigun. Not entirely fixed, but at least you didn’t feel like your chest was about to burst.

 ‘M-Maybe.’ He smiled. ‘Who will be there?’ You tried to shake away the thoughts that there was one mercenary you were looking forward to seeing.

 ‘Uh, well, everyone. I’ll be the one cookin’ though, so no need to worry. It’s gon’ be a traditional Texan barbecue. Some brisket, ribs and sausages. We need to get some meat on those bones.’ He said, gesturing to how your body, though sustained, had lost a little weight from the past couple of days.

 The thought of smoked meat was a delightful one, but the thought of everyone being present was another matter entirely. You were comfortable enough around the Texan, Heavy, Scout and even Medic, but the others were another matter. You didn’t want to seem afraid as you spoke, but even as you asked your question, you felt your voice quake.

 ‘A-And Spy?’

 Engineer removed his hard hat, revealing his scalp as he rubbed rather sheepishly at the back of his head. He seemed uncomfortable. It wasn’t a secret that you despised the man.

 ‘He’ll be there. It is a team dinner after all.’ You felt cold. The idea of having to interact with Spy scared you more than the idea of meeting the rest of the team for the first time. You had yet to see or speak to the Sniper, Soldier, Demo-Man and Pyro since you arrived, but none of them scared you as much as the Frenchman.

 ‘And you’re part o’ the team now.’ He reached out, resting a large hand against your shoulder. You tensed at the new sensation, expecting a bruising grip or something akin to pain to blossom under his hand. Instead, you felt nothing more than a warmth spread, and a comfort as he didn’t so much as squeeze.

 ‘I…’ You were still reeling from the turmoil your body felt. ‘I don’t know if I will be welcome.’

 His hand slipped from his shoulder, but Engineer just offered you another smile. Almost jokingly, he bowed, hard hat pressed to his chest, as if like a gentleman. He returned it to his head.

 ‘You’re welcome to join us.’ He stepped away from the door, offering you a wave of the hand as he moved away. ‘Whenever you like, there’ll be a place for you.’

 You watched him leave, shifting from foot to foot in agitation. You did not want to remain cooped up in your new room, but you were not sure you could stand to be in the same room as Spy. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself, or give the team a reason to believe you were a threat to them.

 You felt over where the Engineer had rested his hand, feeling for a bruise that he might have left, but felt nothing. It astounded you that any of these mercenaries could touch you and not cause pain. Unlike BLU team, who seemed unable to express themselves without violence off the battle field, RED had proven to you that it was possible.

 You had no idea how long you had stood there contemplating whether to head upstairs and to dinner or not, but it was long enough that the smell of grilled pork and sausages had all but leeched down the hall and to your person. Your stomach rumbled once more, and you felt yourself stepping forward, almost unaware that you were moving.

 You were thankful for the RED shirt you had been given, something large enough that you could wrap it tighter around your body for warmth. The material was thick enough to keep the cold of the basement at bay and, even better, it hid the white wrappings across your chest. Your ruined BLU uniform had been thrown out after the first night, sometime whilst you were drugged. You had felt exposed when you had realised it, highly aware that you were permanently a part of RED, and unable to collect your belongings from BLU base. Though, perhaps leaving it all behind was a good thing; nothing more to tie you down with those dickheads in BLU base.

 You approached the stairwell, the strong smell of a barbecue and the cacophony of voices alerting you to the presence of a crowded dinner table. You felt your body tremble, and for a moment, you thought about returning to your room, tail between your legs.

 You pressed on, mentally pushing yourself forward. Your legs felt weighed down and despite the fact you were ascending out of the basement and out of the cold, you felt colder still as you crossed the threshold of the final step. Just behind the wall to the kitchen, you could hear the scrape of cutlery and the sizzle of the barbecue; conversations ranging from gloating about RED’s last win and the new weapon catalogue Mann Co. had released helped to put you at some ease.

 You stood there for a time, unsure if you could, or even should, approach.

 ‘You gonna move?’

 Long after this dinner, you would deny that you had screamed. You would deny that you leapt nearly three feet in the air. You would deny that you hadn’t heard the Australian approach, and simply the exertion of climbing the stairs had put a strain on your injuries.

 You were lying, of course.

[ship-ambrosia]

Chilumi Week Day 2 - Riptide (Fatui)

Summary: Childe tries to pull her under.

   Lumine gritted her teeth, catching her breath for just a moment before she turned heel and tumbled in the opposite direction she’d been going, barely avoiding the flame-imbued bolt of the Fatui sharpshooter who currently had her in his sights.

   “Behind you!” Paimon cried, giving her just enough time to throw up a gust of wind from her palm, blowing back the electrified hammer of a Fatui vanguard. The soldier fell on his back, unconscious, but it was only a little bit of relief as she remembered the sharpshooter again, the heat passing by her a little too close for comfort this time.

   “You’d think a Fatui hideout so close to the Dawn Winery would’ve been discovered by Master Diluc!” Lumine exclaimed, scanning the cliffs around her for the sniper. Her eyes fell on the manor in the distance, the home of her powerful, Pyro Vision-wielding ally from Mondstadt. She found herself worried for a moment, thinking of the worst. Thinking something might have happened to him while she was in Liyue. But she quickly reminded herself she was in the middle of a fight; besides, if something had happened to Diluc, someone from Mondstadt would have let her know.

   A sudden jolt in her side made her gasp; the agent with the hammer must have grazed her and she hadn’t realized it, but the aftereffects of electro energy were unmistakable. That would mean bad news if she couldn’t find the sniper, and he managed to hit her with fire, triggering an overcharged reaction-

   There was a cry from above, and then the body of the sniper landed at her feet.

   Lumine jumped, startled, unsure of what had just happened. Perhaps it was Diluc, having seen the fight in the distance from his manner? Or maybe it was Amber, the Outrider just happening to have been patrolling the hills of Windrise this way? Even Razor crossed her mind - sometimes he hunted out this far from Wolvendom. She looked up, and the silhouette she saw made her heart sink.

   Paimon gasped. “You!”

   Laughter echoed down from above them, before their rescuer - if he could even be called that - slid down the rocks effortlessly and landed gracefully on his feet right in front of Lumine. While she was breathing heavily from the fight, he hadn’t broken a sweat. Just another thing she hated about him.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t my favorite traveler,” Childe smiled at her.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t the most annoying of the Fatui Harbingers,” she snapped.

   “Hey now, is that any way to talk to somebody who just saved you?” He feigned hurt, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Besides, you haven’t met all of the Eleven yet, so technically, you don’t know if that’s true.”

   “Call it a hunch. What are you doing here?”

   “I was just casually passing by-“

   “In Mondstadt?” She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not convinced.

   “Yes, I was casually traveling through Mondstadt, my lady, thank you,” he adjusted his gloves absentmindedly. “When I heard the sounds of battle! Imagine my surprise when I found it was you, my dear friends, being assaulted by thugs! I simply had to intervene.”

   “Thugs, right,” Paimon crossed her arms. “Thugs that happen to belong to your Fatui. Which makes them your thugs.”

   “Not at all, actually,” he grinned. “I’m the representative for Liyue. Any Fatui in Mondstadt are not associated with me.”

   “So who are they associated with?” Lumine asked him.

   He gave her a familiar, infuriating chuckle. “My dear, if I told you that I’d have to kill you.”

   “Lumine! Kick his butt!” Her companion yelled. “And then we’ll tie him up, and take him to the Knights of Favonius ourselves! Or better yet, leave him on Master Diluc’s doorstep!”

   Childe looked toward her, eyes gleaming as though he wanted to see her summon her sword back into her hands. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, girlie.”

   In response, she just kept glaring at him.

   “Okay okay, sheesh. You know I can’t resist that pretty face of yours,” he stretched his arms over his head, as if warming up for another fight. “They’re agents of Scaramouche’s command, as far as I can tell. Signora is still in charge of the Fatui in Mondstadt, but Scaramouche was assigned a new mission by her Majesty, and he’s been given free reign into any of our territories. I heard he was lurking in Liyue, and wanted to check out what his mission was.”

   “So you know it, don’t you?” She pressed him.

   Childe’s grin winded, as he leaned down toward her, his face merely inches from hers. “This seems a bit one-sided, don’t you think? What am I getting out of this?”

   The corners of her lips upturned slightly. She just couldn’t help it, the warm, bubbly feeling that rose in her chest whenever he got close like this. “I’m not knocking you on your ass, how about that?”

   “Like I said, don’t tease a guy. Come on, gimme something. What’re you doing back in Mondstadt? I thought you were done here. Signora already got the Gnosis, after all.”

   Lumine’s expression darkened at the mention of the event. He was trying to get a rise out of her now - everyone in the Fatui had to know about how she felt about what Signora had done.

   “I was coming to talk to Jean and the Knights about what happened in Liyue,” she sighed, giving in. “I wanted to hear some third opinions. As much as I respect Zhongli, Ningguang, and the rest of the Liyue Qixing, I don’t trust them as much as I do my allies in Mondstadt.”

   “About what I did,” Childe guessed. “And you want to tell them about me?”

   She smirked. “Don’t be so narcissistic. Not everything’s about you.”

He considered this thoughtfully for a moment, before sitting down in the grass. Childe gestured for the two of them to do the same, before pulling out his bag and producing a set of papers.

   “You’ve been deemed a threat of higher urgency to the Fatui than the Knights of Favonius, Dawn Winery owner Diluc, or any member of the Qixing,” his brow creased. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so concerned. “Scaramouche has been tasked with subduing you. Those Fatui agents followed you all the way from Liyue, and set up an ambush here.”

   “Whoa! Paimon thinks that must be why Master Diluc hadn’t found them.”

   Lumine listened intently, looking at the papers before her, before it clicked. Her head shot up and her disbelief turned to anger. “You were following me too, then!”

   More to her surprise, he didn’t deny it. “I had to see for myself.”

   “What kind of game are you playing here, Childe?!” She exclaimed.

   “I already told you. I prefer to let other people play the game. I’m just the thrill-seeking pawn,” he answered, his voice even.

   “I’m your enemy! Your Tsaritsa ordered one of the other harbingers to capture me, and you’re taking out your own troops on my behalf? Is this just your new way of manipulating me?”

   “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he mumbled.

   “Huh?”

   “I said you don’t have to be my enemy,” he looked at her, a grim seriousness setting in. “Wouldn’t you prefer if we were on the same side? I love fighting you, more than anything... but fighting alongside you is another thrill. Something I haven’t gotten to experience.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You could join the Fatui,” he said.

   Lumine and Paimon exchanged a glance.

   “You’re joking,” she replied.

   Childe’s smile returned. “I’m actually not.”

   “I’d rather not take orders from Signora, thanks.”

   “Who said it would be Signora?” Childe once again leaned in toward her, his proximity making her blush again. “What makes you think I’d let anyone else from the Fatui have you?”

   Before she could respond, Childe’s head suddenly jerked backwards, the young man letting out a grunt of annoyance. Lumine glanced around to see Paimon floating in the air behind him, her small hands buried in his hair and pulling.

   “Paimon thinks that you’re up to something bad!” The little fae exclaimed. “Paimon thinks Lumine cannot trust you as far as she can send you flying with her Palm Vortex!”

   “Let go of him, Paimon,” Lumine said, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she giggled at his expense.

   “You’re lucky I’m a generous guy,” the harbinger snapped at the little companion, rubbing the back of his head. “But I’m actually being serious. You’re a very important person to me, Lumine. I would like you to work for me, in the Fatui. I can protect you from the others if you join me.”

   Lumine was quiet for a moment. She’d never seen Childe look so worried - not even when they’d almost lost Teucer in the Ruin Guard factory. He was always sure of himself, of his abilities, to overcome any obstacle before him. Now she doesn’t see that certainty.

   He’s scared. For all his lies and honeyed words, that look in his eyes isn’t something he can just fake.

   “I could never join the Fatui,” she replied, careful with her tone. She doesn’t want to push him away - in fact she wanted to make it clear to him that she’s trying to pull him in closer. “Not after everything they did in Mondstadt. Venti, Jean, Diluc... everyone else in the Knights of Favonius. They’ve been hurt by their actions. Not after what you did to Liyue.”

   He lifted his gaze to her, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.

   She smiled to herself, remembering that it was those same blue eyes looking down at the paper on his desk, at the letter he wrote his family, and Teucer’s words came back to her.

   “No, I want you to travel with me,” For what had to be the first time since she had known him, Childe looked caught off guard. She found it was something she liked from him; it made him look younger, more his own age. She felt her face soften; he had a dangerous influence over her, that she already knew.

   “If you’re so worried about what the other Harbingers are going to do to me, then you should travel with me,” she continued. “I’m not going to stop looking for my brother. I don’t have any allegiance to Snezhnaya, outside of wanting you and your family to be safe.”

   The look he gave her through all of that was so tender, held so much awe, that she felt herself wanting to look away. But Lumine couldn’t drop his gaze - she wanted to show him she was serious. Just as serious as he was about her joining the Fatui with him. She stood there, waiting for his reply.

   “Hey!” Paimon’s sudden exclamation snapped both of them out of their gaze. “Doesn’t Paimon get a say in this? What if she doesn’t want this Fatui jerk traveling with you?”

   Lumine couldn’t help the giggles bubbling up in her throat, and she turned her attention to her companion - allowing both herself and Childe to breathe again.

   She crouched down close to Paimon, as a knowing smirk crossed her face. “Are you really telling me you wouldn’t want Mr. Money Bags here to pay for every meal we have every single day he’s traveling with us?”

   “Oh! Paimon changed her mind! Paimon would be very happy to let Childe travel with us!”

   Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I appreciate the warm invitation,” Childe waited for Lumine to look at him again before he continued. “I see Teucer told you about the letters I sent home.”

   Even though it was certainly not her who should be the embarrassed one, Lumine felt her cheeks heat up anyway. “How did you...?”

   “You’re good at hiding things, girlie, but I’m better,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “I didn’t become a Harbinger just based on my fighting abilities, you know.”

   “Paimon thinks that you are still too crafty to be fully trusted.”

   “I don’t like to reveal my sources, but... Teucer sent me a letter where he asked what’s keeping me from traveling with you, since you both seemed so “happy” with me.”

   “Teucer, huh,” Paimon smiled. “He’s too crafty, just like his brother.”

   Childe’s expression suddenly became very melancholic, soft... and apologetic. “But I can’t join you. Not yet. I understand why you can’t, and won’t, join the Fatui. I already knew you were going to say no, but I had to ask anyway.”

   “Likewise,” she answered.

   He took a step toward her, towering over with that cocky grin of his for a moment. Then Childe took one of her hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but the way he grinned up toward her face from behind his ginger hair sent her heart pounding.

   “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe from inside the Fatui, my lady,” he said. “Just hearing that I’m as important to you as you are to me is enough.”

[sinfulshelbys]

Predicament [part one]

Alfie Solomons x Shelby! sister reader

Warnings: talks of war, violence, 

Request: please one where tommy’s twin sister was a nurse in the war and ended up tending to our boy alfie, they happen to fall in love but are told that the other died so shelby sis and him are surprised when they meet after during a deal

word count: 3.5 k

thinking of making this a two part mini-series, so enjoy a backstory [it’s a longish read so :”) let me know your thoughts]

𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟓

If you shut your eyes tight enough, you could pretend that you weren’t there.

You could pretend that the sounds of gun fire and shouting was actually your younger brothers screams and heavy footsteps as they chased your sister around your cramped flat that looked like a cramped traditional Gypsy caravan.

You could pretend that the smell of gun powder was actually just the wood that your aunt burnt in the fireplace, where you were huddled up with your siblings – telling stories alongside your twin brother. 

But there was no room for pretending in a place so disastrous – a place where one decision could end your life.

Tiredly rubbing your bloodied hands down your light blue dress, you ignored the sounds of everyone rushing through the area around you – you needed a break. You weren’t sure how much more death you could take. 

Staring at the crimson stains that stained the skin of your hands, you let out a shaky sigh as you tried not to cry, reminding yourself that you couldn’t have saved your last patient. He was already too far gone. 

You wished to go back to a happier time. A time where the only blood you would see was when you chased your twin brother, Tommy, down the cobblestone road of Watery Lane – falling and scraping your knees and palms. 

A time where your dreams weren’t full of blood, screams and damn medical equipment. 

Sometimes you cursed your younger sister, Ada, for forcing you to attend that damn nursing course – cursed yourself for falling in love with the possibility of being able to help people.

Because it’s what got you here. It’s why they drafted you alongside your brothers – to help the soldiers. 

“Shelby!” A feminine voice called as rushed footsteps headed towards you. “What are you doing on the floor? We need you!”

The young red-headed woman quickly bent down and grabbed your forearms to pull you onto your feet, her eyes darting over your shaky figure to make sure you were alright. Dorothy, you think her name was – you couldn’t be too sure with how foggy your mind seemed to be, barely showed anymore concern as she tugged you forward.

“More corps have been brought in,” the woman hurried to explain as she lead you over to the Field Marshal. “He wants you to take care of someone important.”

You barely got to question the woman as she rushed off to tend her own patients – your entire body going into nurse mode as you took in the man on the stretcher, your eyes darting to your superior.

“Don’t let him die,” the older man condescendingly spoke as you pushed past the crowd around the injured soldier. “He’s a captain, Miss Shelby – keep him alive.”

You made quick work of assessing his injuries, tearing off his thin white shirt to see a bullet entrance wound on the right side of his chest – using all your strength to roll him over slightly to spot an exit wound.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you grabbed a few rags from the small bench beside you, pushing them against the wound on his back as you made nimble work of sterilising the entrance wound and the needle that another nurse had handed off to you.

You were focused, constantly checking his pulse and making sure you weren’t losing the soldier – knowing that his body passed out to avoid him having to deal with the pain. With ringing ears from the loud shouts from the sea of people around you – you tirelessly worked until you were certain his wound was properly treated.

With a huff, you fell down into the small chair beside his bed – it was late, the hustle and bustle inside the makeshift hospital had calmed down slightly. Patients fast asleep in their uncomfortable cots – nurses retreating to their headquarters, but you refused. 

If someone asked, you wouldn’t be able to tell them how long you had sat in that uncomfortable chair – occasionally dozing off in exhaustion before you snapped out of it to make sure your patient hadn’t died on your watch. 

Resting your cheek on your open palm – your elbow dug into the wooden armrest of the chair as you watched the man peacefully sleep. The orange hues from the candles beside his bed lit up his features and if you looked closely enough you could make out the lines of exhaustion behind his ginger beard. His pale skin was covered with dirt and soot – the white bandages around his chest standing out against the grime.

He was someone you would’ve found attractive before.

Basking in the rare moment of silence, you finally allowed your mind and body to catch a break. The continuous hours on your feet and threat of death that was constantly in the back of your mind ceased – if only for a moment, before you were snapped out of a brisk period of peace by a soft groan.

You were on your feet within a second, hand tenderly resting on his bicep as you checked over him for any signs of distress – his eyes blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision as he let out a hiss of pain through his clenched teeth.

“The fuck happened?” Your heart jumped at the sound of his gravelly voice followed by a dry cough. You reached over for the flask full of water next to the bed – gently lifting his head as you helped him drink.

A loud whimper left his lips as you placed his head back down on the stiff pillow – your hands hovering over where his wound was, watching as he tried to figure out what was happening. 

“Where does it hurt, captain?”

His eyes seemed to widen at the sound of your soft voice, the crystal blue meeting your own as you stared at him in concern. One of his hands lifted to come rest on his forehead as he rubbed at the skin. 

“Are you an angel?” He drowsily questioned, taking in his surroundings as a soft chuckle left your lips. “Where am I?”

“The infirmary.”

Gently pulling his hand away from his face, you stared down at him as he seemed to huff in recognition – obviously remembering what had happened that landed him in the medical tent.

“Is it your bullet wound or somewhere else that hurts? I can’t help you if I don’t know, captain.”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you waited for him to explain the exact area that he was experiencing pain – letting out a sigh when he didn’t respond, obviously too headstrong to admit that he was in pain.

“Alright,” you trailed off, reaching for the folded blanket at the end of his cot. “It’s a thin blanket, but the nights here get quite cold if you don’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins – so it’ll help a little.”

He watched as you tucked the blanket into the sides of the uncomfortable bed he was stuck in. You were pretty, too pretty for a place like this – perhaps you were an angel after-all. An angel living in hell. 

“How many did we lose?” He questioned, watching as your fluent movements faltered – your eyes darting down to your now clean palms. 

“Fifteen,” you whispered. “Although, that’s only the confirmed number.”

Neither of you said much more as you rounded his bed again, sitting back down in the chair next to him. He watched as your hands shook, exhaustion evident in the way your entire body seemed to slump in the wooden seat. 

“We have any fuckin’ alcohol?” He chuckled lightly, trying not to flinch at the flare of pain he experienced at the movement. 

“Only the whiskey we need to save to disinfect things.”

“That’s a fuckin’ shame, innit. Could fuckin’ use it right now, yeah,” his voice held a joking undertone – but you could tell that he was serious. You could use a drink too, just to forget. 

“I’d have finished half the bottle already if I had any,” you responded, watching as the corners of his mouth quirked up, a gentle understanding growing between the both of you. 

This was the most conversation he had in months that didn’t involve talk of tactic and strategy – perhaps that’s why he wanted it to continue.

“You drink whiskey?”

You shrugged. ”Used to. My brothers were obsessed with it, used to steal it from my dads liquor cabinet and we’d all run down to our spot in my uncles yard to drink it. Got a hell of a scolding, but it was worth it.”

“You don’t look like a bird who drinks the hard fuckin’ stuff, you don’t.” 

Your eyebrows rose in questioning, a small smile growing on your face at his teasing – a rare sight to see in a place like this. 

“What type of girl do you take me for, captain?”

Both of your heads turned at the sound of a loud cough from someone at the far end of the tent, before your attention was back on each other for a second as the sound of a jet passing above you had you both freezing – holding your breaths until the sound became distant.

You noticed that his features instantly hardened at the sound, before relaxing once his eyes landed back on your figure. 

“Something sweet,” he continued your conversation as if your previously tense actions hadn’t interrupted anything. “Right, yeah, you look like you’d like a sweet drink.”

Your fingers traced the dents in the armrest of the chair, as you slouched in the seat again. “I guess looks are deceiving, captain.”

He hummed at your words, moving the blanket down his body to look at his bandage – your arm reaching out to stop his hands from pulling down the bandage.

“I’ll change it in about six hours,” you told him, getting him to pull the blanket back on. “You lost quite a lot of blood, but my superior said that you were important – couldn’t let you die.”

“You patch me up yourself?”

With a nod in agreement to his words, you let out a soft, “yes, captain.”

He seemed to leave the topic at that – shutting his eyes, before grunting at the back of his throat.

“Right, the name’s Alfie. Alfie Solomons. Better than captain, innit?”

“I don’t know, I quite like the authority,” you teased, with a soft giggle – causing him to widely grin. “Get some rest, Alfie. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Only if I get your name too,” he countered, his intense stare causing your skin to heat.

“Y/N Shelby,” you introduced yourself, before gesturing towards him with your chin. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You smiled at his agreement, however the both of you knew that sleep was the last thing you would be able to do with the way the tent seemed to begin to come back to life.

The silence never lasted long, anyway.

~~~~~~~

𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟵𝟭𝟱

The infantry was way too full. 

You could barely walk anywhere without bumping into someone or something – having to step outside the tent just to be able to breathe. 

A few of the soldiers lingering outside turned to you with curious eyes as you tried to stabilise your breathing – you knew you looked like a mess. From the way your uniform was covered in stains of blood, vomit and mud from the countless men you had treated.

A tunnel had collapsed, and at first you had freaked thinking that it was the 179 – the diggers that involved your twin brother, Tommy. You had never pushed so many people out of the way as you checked every bed to make sure he wasn’t in one. 

You should’ve felt guilty about the immense relief that overcame you when you realised that it was a different set of troops – but you wouldn’t know what to do if it was your own flesh and blood that was being treated. 

“Mail!” A booming voice caused you to jump slightly, your palm resting above your heart as you tried to calm yourself. 

You watched as all the men outside rushed over, eagerly wanting to know if their loved ones back home had sent them something that could give them a sliver of hope to hang on to.

The happiness outside was a contrast to the sorrow going on inside the tent behind you.

“No letter?” Your head darted to your left to see your favourite patient walking over to you, a charming smile gracing his face. 

“My brothers send them to my aunt,” you gave him a small smile as you took in his appearance. “You seem to be healing nicely, Alf.”

“I have the best fuckin’ nurse taking care of me, don’t I?” 

You laughed, looking down at the floor so he wouldn’t see the way you had flushed at his compliment. Alfie had become your primary focus as a patient, making sure that he was healed enough for his superior to be able to send him back out into the field.

It didn’t take long for him to be back on his feet, often clinging to your shoulder as you walked around the military base. The wound in his chest was healing nicely – nothing but a mere scar now. 

The thought of him leaving you to go back out into the war zone caused an unsettling feeling to wash over him – your Field Marshal having informed Alfie that he was being sent back out with a new group of corps in a week. 

“Right, how about I fuckin’ write to you?”

Your head shot up at his suggestion, a little frown growing on your pretty features – causing Alfie’s hands to cup your cheeks in his palms, his calloused thumb rubbing out the tense lines between your brows. For a man who had been toughened by such violence, he was extremely gentle with you.

Aunt Polly would’ve scolded you for swearing upon the Lords name, but you couldn’t help but swear that Alfie was the handsomest man you had ever seen. From his bright eyes that contrasted against his sharp features, to the way his smile would cause his nose to crinkle whenever you had come back at his smart-ass responses with even more sass.

You wish you found yourself falling for him under different circumstances.

For that you would curse on the Lords name. For introducing you to a man who you would gladly give your heart to – instead forcing you to put up your guard, knowing that at any moment you could lose each other. You cursed him for putting a future in front of you that you could never have.

However, that didn’t seem to stop the other soldiers and nurses around you from referring to you as the ‘captains girl’ – never failing at making you a stumbling mess. 

“You want to write me?” You questioned him after a beat, letting him take your hand in his as he walked with you – his voice echoing around you.

“Right, tell me why your brothers don’t write to you.”

“It’s a distraction,” you hummed, although Alfie noticed you visibly deflate at the words. “We don’t write to each other because we’d end up becoming reliant on the letters. Not knowing is better than knowing – at least, until this is all over.”

Alfie ran his free hand under his nose, before speaking again. 

“Do you wish you knew?” You nodded.

“I worry,” tears began to cloud your pretty eyes, as Alfie sat you on a log away from everyone. “I never know if they’re still alive. They could be dead right now and I’d have no idea. Aunt Pol never writes to me either because she knows I’ll ask and I can’t afford those distractions – distractions get you killed.”

Alfie seemed lost in thought as he took in your words, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he pulled you under his arm. 

“I’ll write you,” he muttered into the crown of your head. “I promise to fuckin’ write you as many fuckin’ letters that I can, if it brings you comfort.”

He barely had time to react as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug – letting yourself show weakness around him as you cried for the first time in too long.

“Thank you,” you spoke genuinely, as he moved you so you were straddling his lap – your forehead resting against his. “I’ll write you back.”

With those words, his lips were on yours – a kiss so soft and tender. A love born through the ashes of a world blanketed by disaster. 

~~~~~~~

𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟔

He kept his promise. 

He wrote to you as often as he could – a whole box of crinkled letters hidden under your bed in the nurses quarters. You pulled them out each night after everyone had fallen asleep, re-reading over the penciled lettering under candlelight until your eyelids became heavy.

He kept his promise until they stopped. 

You waited outside, bouncing on the heels of your feet – catching sight of a young man carrying a bag full of mail. Rushing over to him, he gave you a wink before dropping the bag to his feet – opening it as he riffled through the letters.

“Another letter from your man?” The blonde man smiled, he was youthful – even after everything he had seen at such a young age. You eagerly nodded to his question, barely paying mind to the soft chuckles that came from the men who had began to group around you.

You excitedly waited as he shuffled through the letters, calling out random soldiers names – handing them their envelopes until he got to the bottom of the bag. 

Not a single one for you.

You heart seemed to sink when the man sympathetically looked towards you – but you brushed it off. He probably wasn’t able to write you yet, he was a captain after all. 

But then that missed letter turned into weeks where you didn’t receive a single one – you had sent him multiple, expressing your concern and asking if he was alright, but you never got a response back.

Eventually you stopped waiting outside on mail day – distracting yourself by treating injuries and re-organising the medical equipment for hours on end. 

Everybody seemed to tread lightly around you, the soldiers who once called you ‘captains girl’ had taken to calling you your name again and the nurses who would often tease you during the day about your love had stopped.

You didn’t want to think about what had happened to him, telling yourself that he was okay – that he was an honourable man who had more important matters than writing to you. 

This was why you didn’t write to your brothers, you thought. 

You had built up your wall, pretending that you were okay and not worrying about him at all – although, even a blind man would be able to see that your mind was elsewhere.

Distractions were weakness. 

It wasn’t until one faithful day that you finally broke down. The day was colder than usual – rain pelting down outside as you tirelessly worked for hours on end. 

The loud infirmary seemed to quieten when your Field Marshal walked in, his eyes darting around the room before landing on you. You could feel your heartbeat speed up; palms becoming sweaty as he walked towards you and removed his hat – running his finger through his grey hair.

“I hate to do this here,” he spoke to you, gesturing you to the side of the tent, away from everyone. 

“Is it my brothers?” You questioned, although deep down you knew it wasn’t them he was going to speak about – confirming it when he solemnly shook his head.

“I was told to inform you that Captain Solomons has been killed in action,” he regretfully spoke – your breath hitching at his words before you broke. 

One of your hands clenched the fabric of your dress – a sob tearing its way past your lips as you limply fell into the older mans awaiting arms. 

He wasn’t supposed to comfort you, but everyone knew you had saved the most of his men, so he let you desperately cling to him – he sighed when he heard the soft “no’s” between your cries.

“I know it hurts,” he mumbled, as a couple of the other nurses rushed to your side to keep you steady – his hands held your face as he spoke to you. “But is this going to affect your work, Miss Shelby?”

You tried to shake your head to assure him that you could still do your job, but you barely heard him as he told the girls to take you back to your sleep quarters – letting you have the rest of the days off. 

The two women did as instructed, gently placing you in your bed – brushing away a few of your tears as they made sure you were comfortable before they had to leave to get back to their duties.

You barely moved as you laid there in complete silence – letting yourself cry for that future that the Lord had dangled in front of you before snatching it away.

You cried for Alfie. You cried for your loss. 

You cried for what could’ve been. 

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ prologue | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 2K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: mentions of death, public embarrassment, military death, adult language ☆ a/n: hey everyone c:i’m really happy to be reuploading this fic; i’m going to set a goal of updating it once a month. this is my baby, and i want to do it right, so if it doesn’t come as predictably as i want it to, apologies in advance, but i really hope you enjoy what i have! 

this fic starts of intense and will only get more intense. i very much recommend double checking the warnings list because there’s gonna be some pretty heavy stuff in the prologue here and going forward. please do keep in mind that this is purely fiction and i do not want (most of) this to actually happen to anyone. it won’t all be sad though, promise! i mean it’s namjoon we’re talking about: the biggest goofball on the planet. there will be eventual smut, but we have to build up to it, now don’t we? thanks luv, enjoy!

Here you are, in the quaint little convenience store and dry cleaning shop right outside of post, on just another cloudy Winter Wednesday. However, today is a little different, because you have made it to the front of the line and have begun violently crying. Not one of those shedding a single tear cries, but a terrible cry that has taken hold of your entire body. A shaking, snot-faucet, fist-clenching cry. Nothing truly lamentable has happened, except for an inability to recall the Korean word for receipt. You’ve lived at Camp Walker for just shy of two years, so it’s safe to say your ineffectiveness in vocalizing your needs isn’t for lack of knowledge. Despite your quickly-grasped and quite thorough knowledge of the language, the overwhelming sadness and anger you possess about your situation somehow has evaporated away all your Hangul proficiency. Which has left you looking utterly incompetent. Of course a breakdown is in order. All you needed to do was pick up your dead husband’s dress blues for fucks sake, but you can’t remember how to speak and now you’re embarrassing yourself and wasting this poor lady’s time and why does this have to be so goddamn difficult.

The people behind you in line are now beginning to stare in a strange mix of confusion, concern, irritation, and apprehension. Perfect. You exit the line and begin sputtering out desperate attempts at the lost word, so entirely wrapped up in your own stupid brain that you fail to register the approach of a tall man in an American style ACU. A deep and calm voice eases out of the truly tree-sized man in front of you.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asks.

Your vision is tear-ruined and the last thing you want is pity. Pity is exhausting. 

“Oh, you’re gonna help the poor little sad girl, huh?” you spit out at him, not even bothering to look up, “just tell me the fucking word for receipt please. That’s all I need.” 

Despite your downright rudeness, the man replies without hesitation. “Yeongsujeung. Are you sure that’s all I can help you with?” You look over towards the counter to see that the lady has begun helping other customers, and you really aren’t looking forward to waiting in line again. No pity, you remind yourself, so you shake your head at the man and meekly muster out a “gamsahabnida” as you stare at the floor, too embarrassed at your lack of composure to make eye contact with your new acquaintance. 

He just sighs and says, “Ma’am, would you mind if I stood in line for you? It might feel good if you sat down for a minute. I promise it’s not a hassle. I’m here to get my dry cleaning too.” 

Jesus Christ, what is this guy? Some kind of mind reader? Who is that observant? Or are you just that obvious? You really, really don’t want more help. That’s all people have been trying to do for the past week. Coming by your house with food, offering to walk your dog, so many informational pamphlets about therapy, every person saying that they can be a listening ear if you need it. But you don’t. You just want to be left alone already. Nothing anyone has said has been comforting, because they don’t actually know what it’s like. They just don’t get it. And it’s nice that they want to help and are actually trying, but fuck. It mostly just makes things worse. But your head hurts from the exertion of crying, and that’s all it takes to convince you that you might actually want to sit down.

You wipe your eyes and finally feel like you’re allowed to really breathe again. You look up at the kind man to thank him once more, this time more sincerely, and in that instant, you’re sure you’ve gone insane. That’s got to be it. The death of your husband has thrown you completely off your rocker. That’s the only explanation for what stands before you. You’ve finally had a full psychotic break and are currently hallucinating in the corner store. You’d honestly burst out laughing if your throat wasn’t raw, because standing in front of you is a man who looks remarkably like Kim Namjoon. 

You haven’t thought about this man in years, and his dark shorter haircut instead of his usual longer locks is probably the most confusing matter about the whole thing, oddly enough. You recall in your mind the photocard you have of him from when you bought one of their albums several years ago. The luscious long blonde hair in the photo is shockingly different to the style that he’s sporting now. If it weren’t for his signature dimple greeting you alongside his small sincere grin, you’d almost have never recognized him. 

Oh my god. And now you’re standing in front of him, and he’s standing in front of you, and he’s so much taller than you thought he would be, and you’re having a meltdown in a cornerstore, and he’s so much more handsome in person, and now you’re staring into each other's eyes and this can’t be happening. 

It can’t really be him. You’ve just gone completely mental. You know the leader of BTS began his compulsory military service about a year and a half ago, but the chances of you crossing paths is still nearly impossible. You begin to tell yourself that he’s just a doppelgänger and your recent distress and suffering has made your brain desperate for serotonin. It can’t really be him. You’re just crazy now. That would be easier to deal with, at least. 

You half don’t believe it’s him and half don’t want to believe it’s him. If it is him, you sure as hell don’t want to make the interaction any more weird than it’s already been. If it’s not him, you’d only be embarrassing yourself further. The best, and really, only course of action to take at this point, because you absolutely do not trust your words, is just to nod your head and avert your gaze as you walk to the little bench by the door. You try to focus your thoughts on literally anything other than your brain’s manifestation of a pop star. It almost doesn’t happen, but as peace comes, you mentally thank yourself for your long-time practice of mindfulness. It would have been an impossible task had you never done this before. By the time he gets to the front, you’ve successfully managed to calm down and focus on your breathing. You’ve got yourself convinced the man simply looks similar to Namjoon, and that’s it. Nothing to get worked up about.

As you rejoin the man, he greets you with another warm grin and gestures to the counter. Shit. Are you ready to talk again? He’s insisting you go first, and you notice the little dimple poke out again. His lips are so… pillowy. Oh god, are you staring? You shake loose of his grasp on you and in practically perfect Korean, apologize to the lady for before, tell her the last name and details on the order, and tell her you’re sorry about misplacing the receipt from drop off with the order number on it because it’s... been a really long week. She nods, seeming relieved you didn’t burst into tears again and goes in the back to search for your items. 

The tall serviceman next to you now speaks to you in Korean. “That was impressive. You’ve been here for a long time?” 

“Only two years.” 

“Well I suppose you really didn’t need my help then,” he says and chuckles a little. “I’m glad to see sitting down was able to help you relax.” 

The lady hands over the dry cleaning and you thank her. As you pay, tears begin to swell in your eyes again. You’re holding the things your husband will be buried in. You can’t stop yourself from picturing it all… the funeral, his cold body, whether you’ll have to hold a closed casket ceremony, his poor mom, how long the receiving line is going to be, whether he would want flowers or not, wondering if you’ll be able to put his little award stripes on his suit jacket in the right order or if you’re going to have to get help… again.

 Being so wrapped up in your thoughts, you don’t notice your new acquaintance giving the lady his ticket. He turns to you after she’s walked in the back. 

“Lucky husband, getting his dress uniform picked up for him. You really know how to spoil a man, huh?” The seemingly innocent comment shoots fire through your veins. The woman returns with his dry cleaning and they go through payment as you let the anger boil inside of you. He is oblivious to the metaphorical bombs going off inside your body. You stare a hole into the man’s head as you spit out “My husband is fucking dead.” 

You turn to leave and don’t look back, not giving him a chance to process your revelation. He makes the connection a moment too late, but he’s quick to catch up with you in the parking lot, this time speaking English. “Ma’am please let me apologize. I didn’t realize...” 

You continue walking to your car; you don’t want to look at him again. “I don’t need an apology from you. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Please, I had no idea. I was trying to make small talk; I never would have said that-“

You whir around and glare at him. You were done. “I get it, okay? Just stop feeling sorry for me already. I’m tired of it. Thank you for waiting in line for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fucking funeral to plan.” The words come flying out and with each new sentence, you see him recoil again and again. His eyes are full of remorse and... understanding? You hold his gaze longer than you wanted to, and time stands still. What are you doing?

You’re fumbling with your keys, trying to manage the electronic key fob to unlock your car. He takes this opportunity to scribble some words and numbers on a paper he has clumsily fished out of one of his many uniform pockets and extends it out to you. Is he really trying to give you his number right now?! You’d be really flattered that a man this attractive is making a pass at you, if you hadn’t, you know, just told him your husband fucking died. You furrow your brows and roll your eyes, ready to chew him out again. 

“Here, this is the name and address for a group therapy session on post for people who have gone through recent loss. We meet on Thursdays. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in Korea, but you’d be welcome. I promise.”

You just stare at him dumbly, unable to process this information. Therapy? You’d been given so many pamphlets on loss that it made your head spin. The only thing that thoughts of therapy has done for you in the past week has brought up terrible associations.

“Please. Take it.”

His eyes are pleading. You can’t bear to see the desperation any longer. Breaking away from his heavy gaze, you take the scrap of paper. With one last thank you, you get in your sedan, throw the dry cleaning into the passenger seat, and lock the doors. 

With your head in your hands, you start to cry again. Why do you have to be so mean? Thinking of the man, you turn to look in the rear-view mirror with a gentle hope that he’s still behind your car. You don’t know why you’re disappointed when he isn’t.

Thursday is tomorrow. You can make it until then.

[dothwrites]

15.13 coda--the price we pay

So it’s true, when all is said and done--grief is the price we pay for love.--E.A. Bucchianeri

---

Jack’s door closes with a small snick. Castiel watches it close. The thin barrier of wood separates him from his boy, but it doesn’t keep away the muffled sounds of sobs and sniffles. 

The moment had lasted an eternity, Jack looking at Dean through tear-bright eyes, begging for forgiveness, Dean staring back down at Jack, his jaw set and eyes gimlet hard. Dean feels things more deeply than anyone else, Castiel had told Jack. He’d meant it. Joy, anger, guilt...Dean feels, so much all of the time, that it spills out onto anyone else who gets in his way. 

What he hadn’t told Jack was that that was the reason that he loved Dean. Was because he felt. As an angel, a being who was never intended for emotion, the sight of a human soul, writhing with emotion so bright that it managed to shine through hell, was enough to captivate him. He’d been drawn towards Dean, helpless as a moth towards flame, and there he’d stayed, caught in Dean’s orbit. There he weathers the tempest of Dean’s anger as well as the brightness of his joy. 

And he’s had time, firsthand, to experience to balm of Dean’s forgiveness. 

Dean’s hand had descended towards Jack and Castiel had hated Jack’s flinch. Hated it for Jack, hated it for Dean. He knew that that flinch hurt Dean, reinforced what Dean had suspected all along--that he was nothing but a brute, nothing but a monster. 

But Dean’s hand had landed on Jack’s shoulder, just a moment before Dean was on his knees, pulling Jack into a fierce embrace. “It’s ok kid,” he said, voice thick and gravel-rough. “You’re ok.” 

Sam had knelt alongside them, his long arms wrapping up Jack and Dean alike, and Castiel...His work was done, in a sense. He’d facilitated Jack’s return to the Winchesters, seen his soul restored. Gotten one step closer to the ultimate goal. So Castiel had taken a few small steps out of the room, silently. No one had seen him go, no one had noticed his presence, until Dean and Sam walked out. Sam’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Dean’s mouth was flat, but there was something calm and peaceful in his eyes, something that had been missing for long weeks. 

Anger takes a toll on the soul. 

And then they’d walked away, leaving Jack’s door to close behind them. And Castiel watches--Watches his boy deal with the pain of his actions, watches the Winchesters walk away. After a moment, Castiel follows. 

Dean glances up when he enters the room. Something hard glints at him. It reminds Castiel of the pain of the word idiot when it comes from Dean’s lips, the curling realization that no matter his contribution, he’ll never be valued. 

Castiel is still a soldier, first and foremost. He understands the necessity of sacrifice, knows that in chess, sometimes you have to lose pieces in order to win. 

He just wishes that Dean would care a little more when he’s finally taken off the board. 

---

Cas looks at him with wide eyes and Dean knows that they’re going to have to talk. Probably sooner than later, judging by the stubborn little purse to his mouth. Dean takes another sip from his beer (those bastards drank them down to almost nothing, greedy little sons of bitches) and luxuriates in the swallow. He’ll put off this conversation as long as he can. 

He still doesn’t know, how to put all the concern that he feels, the worry that continuously scrabbles at the inside of his skull, into words that don’t spit and fizzle like poison. He’d seen the minute little flinch in Cas’ face when he said idiot, just like he’d seen the Jack’s flinch when he reached out towards him. He’s doing better, he’s trying, but what the hell does it say about him that the people that he loves best in the world literally draw back from him? 

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, his voice still scratchy and rough. Dean knows that the deal with Jack hit him hard, but there’s something else there too. Sam’s continuous glances at his phone tell a fairly convincing story. No doubt there’s a series of texts from Eileen waiting for him. 

Which would be fine, Dean’s all aboard the good ship Saileen, except that Sam’s departure leaves him alone with Cas. And Cas isn’t leaving or starting the conversation, which means that he’s going to leave Dean to deal with this whole mess. 

The silence between them takes on a distinctly stony feel the longer they sit in it. It’s so damned uncomfortable sitting in it, yet breaking it would somehow be worse. Dean will give it to Cas--he’s a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be. 

After the quiet becomes so uncomfortable that Dean’s teeth are itching, he finally decides to rip the band-aid off in one, vicious tug. 

“It was a damn stupid thing, what you did.” 

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, he really didn’t. But his intentions are worthless--the words fall harsh and flat between them, like little loaded weapons. Whatever softness might have been lurking in Cas is gone. 

“It was the only way to get what we needed.” Cas’ voice is tight with repressed emotion, but the words are enough to spark a wildfire in Dean. 

“It was the only--what the fuck man?” he spits. He stands up, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. Its feet scrape against the wood, loud enough to send the hairs rising on Dean’s arms, but he ignores that in favor of focusing on Cas. 

“The only way was to go and get yourself killed? Again?” 

Try as he might, he can’t erase the image--Cas, slumped motionless in the chair, face gone that particular shade of pale and waxy that Dean knows and wishes that he didn’t. How many times has he been forced to watch Cas die, right in front of him? How many times has he said goodbye? And they’ve been lucky--for every goodbye, there’s always been a Hello Dean waiting, but Winchesters aren’t known for their luck. How long before it runs out? How long before Cas does something so monumentally reckless that there’s no coming back from it? 

How long before Dean has to say goodbye permanently? 

“It wasn’t like that--” 

“It was exactly like that!” Dean’s anxiety and worry spills out of him in a vicious tirade. “Sam and I come back, find you--”

“So you’re the only one who can take pointless risks?” Castiel is standing now, and there’s a dangerous, sharp edge in his voice that Dean should probably heed, but he’s too far gone for that. 

“That’s different--” Though it really isn’t, the difference is that Dean is just...Dean, just some schmuck who doesn’t have a trust fund, who doesn’t know any life other than that which cakes blood and dirt underneath his nails. He doesn’t matter, not in the long run. But Castiel...Castiel is made of stardust and the cosmos. It would be a sin, if Dean were left on the world while Castiel ceased to exist. 

For a moment Cas is speechless with rage. Then he’s striding over to Dean, pushing an angry finger into his chest, so hard that Dean’s sure there will be small, circular bruises blooming over his skin within the next day or so. 

“How dare you? How dare you assume that everyone...that I would be fine without you? How dare you think so little of yourself?” 

Dean laughs, a wretched ugly sound. “Yeah? Well, right back at you pal.” 

It hits him then, weights falling from the sky: how tenuous their grip on this life is. How any wrong move could be their last. How any of them could be snuffed out in the merest flicker of an instant and nothing of them would be left behind, save grief. 

Dean isn’t aware of the series of events that end with him crashing into Cas. He knows that his knees buckle, that he reaches out for Cas, that Cas is there to catch him, steady as ever. He folds himself into Cas, burrowing his nose between the collar of Cas’ shirt and his neck, brushing against warm skin. 

“I thought I lost you,” Dean finally says, the words dredged out of him like vomit, coming from somewhere dark and desperate that he keeps inside himself. Cas, his head lolling backward, hands limp on his stomach. Cas, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth, angel blade pierced through his chest...”I thought that I’d lost you again.” 

He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing as his shoulders shake with the release of pent-up emotion. He tries to crawl away to lick his wounds and hide his shame, but Cas’ arms tighten like a vice around his shoulders, keeping him present. 

“I can’t...don’t make me lose you again.” It’s half order, half-plea, but wholly sincere, gasped into Cas’ neck. “You think that you’re fucking expendable, that the ends justify the means, or whatever else your stupid chess metaphors say. But I need you in this with me Cas. I need you with me.” 

“And how dare you assume that I don’t feel the same,” Cas answers back. “How dare you think that I could go through this earth without you with me.” 

Dean draws back, just enough that he can take Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ skin is warm against his palms. He can feel the flutter of Cas’ pulse underneath his hands, wild and thready and so very alive. “You ain’t fucking leaving me,” Dean says, before he kisses Cas. 

Just before his lips meet Cas’, he thinks that he sees something flicker across Cas’ face. A hint of regret maybe, a deeper secret coiling underneath the surface of those blue eyes. 

Dean pushes it aside before he kisses Cas, hard enough to bruise. Permanent. 

---

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”―Mark Twain

[theravenclawlover]

Monster

Parings: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: +18 Mentions of torture, mature language, future smut, mentions of death, slight depression, mentions of kidnapping.  

Word Count: 1,936

Summary: You are one of the youngest members of the Avengers, and you love it. Out of the blue an impossible mission is assigned to you alongside Natasha Romanoff, and it was sure to change your life. Lies, and betrayal from the closest people in your life; they never told you who you really were.

Chapter Number: 8.

Chapter Tittle: Staring in Those Evil Eyes

A/N: Hello, I am back with another update for this book/series! I know it’s been coming up super slow, or with rapid updates. I’m actually supposed to be working on an essay that was due last week, and now I’m procrastinating on essay and stuff due this week. There are only like five weeks to this semester and stress is getting to that I don’t wanna do anything anymore. Mind, this is my last year of college. I just wanna cry, really. It’s maddening, I swear. This one is rather short, I have to complete come up with the last two chapters as the things I have written are so bad and whack that I wonder how the hell the internet didn’t bully me enough about it. So, I have no idea when those are coming up as I have to restart them. Please ignore the year on the gif, I couldn’t find something that worked nicely, but this is what I could come up with.

It had taken almost an hour to find the location. The nearer they got, the harder it got to guess which building it was as they looked the same or the streets were missing their street signs. You had opted for asking a civilian who looked to know their way around. Calling out for him had the man looking around confused for a second before his eyes landed on the three of you. He seemed to hesitate to approach as he saw how big the man that accompanied you, and how out of place you three looked. As soon as the man was on earshot, you asked if he knew where the street you were looking for was, he looked you up and down, and with a shrug to himself he directed you to take a left ahead of you and to keep walking straight up to a building with a red roof with a massive wall with graffiti on it.

Thanking the man, you three followed the directions the man had given—at least after you had translated what he had told you before he had seen a friend of his and left without a glance toward you. The man had failed to tell you that the walk after the left turn there was a fifteen-minute walk up to the street. The heat of the day making you sweat buckets, and curse as your legs seemed to give up whenever a bump of messed up concrete made you stumble.

“There, that’s the building.” Steve had pointed out the building with the red roof and graffiti, but the building wasn’t what you had expected. And as you looked at Steve and Bucky, they had the same thought in mind.

"I think we should check it out, " Steve said as he walked ahead to see if there was an entrance to the building. He looked confused for a second, “it doesn’t have a main entrance door.”

"Let’s see if it has a back one,” you said as you went into an alley that was on the right side of the building. You came back around to the front with a frown in your face, “nothing. No door either.”

"That’s weird,” Steve said looking around as if a clue would appear around the other buildings. He noticed how all the other buildings had main metal doors, making the one behind them the odd one out. “I think we have the right building, this one doesn’t stand out like the other, but it’s the odd one out. No doors, poorly painted, with graffiti all over it while the others one seems to at least get taken care of.”

“Was there anything back there?” Bucky spoke out of nowhere making you look up at him in surprise.

“Umm, not really,” you said as you recalled, but then looked back again, “I mean there is another building but that one is more like a small shed.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as he walked into the alley. You and Steve followed him without a word. Bucky walked into the shed, and not far behind, you and Steve followed his steps.

It looked like some of the homeless had taken this place as their own as the smell of piss, alcohol, and rotten seemed to fill the air. It was small and cramped as everyone scanned around without touching anything but soon Steve spoke with some firmness in his voice.

“Buck, could you stand watch in case anyone tries to come in?”

He only glanced at Steve with a raised eyebrow before nodding and stepping out. Steve made sure Bucky was a little far out from the door and turned toward a corner on the right side of the shed where he had been eyeing. Without words you questioned his actions, and he only kicked aside a beer box and pointed at the markings on the floor. A trapdoor.

While you and Steve talked about the newfound trapdoor, Bucky stood outside making sure no homeless person, no civilian, and no police officer made way toward them. And as he looked around at the gray walls around him, his eyes seemed to blur making him dizzy without warning…

Bucky looked around and soon his eyes landing on a man he knew from his previous nightmares. He was standing with John Garrett. He was in a room that was all too familiar to him. It was the room. The room where they did things to him. But this time it wasn’t him seating in the hard chair. It was you.

You were being tied up by the doctors around. You looked scared and it was understandable as you didn’t look any older than 8. You were just a little kid. They weren't going to brainwashed you, he knew that much. But what they were intending to do was way worse. They had found old archives of the old works of a high-ranking officer back in the 50’s, and with the technology of the decade being much different now, they had discussed the advantages of putting to work and experimentation. And it had work for the first two phases; Bucky had been victim to it when a ‘harmless’ training had turned into you blasting him across the training room when a superior had brought you to learn about knife combat. They had you training before your 16th birthday, which by then they hoped to put you out for mission that were in the same rank of importance as the Winter Soldier. Perhaps a side kick of sort.

The training had been going fine, until Garrett had suggested to test your awareness and sight progress.  When Bucky had thrown a knife towards you, you knew you were done for it, you hadn’t expected the knife to come toward your face. As if on instinct you had covered yourself with your hands and let out a shriek of fear. And out of nowhere a purple force came out of you and seemed to explode in the enclosed training room, making the knife retract by the force of the shield and throwing the man with the mental arm toward the wall behind him as he barely moved his head when the knife stuck to the wall.

And that had led to you being escorted out to the room you were now in. They had thought the experiment over when the month had gone by, but as you had shown otherwise, they brought out what they had ready for the next phase. Another Doctor came into the room with a tray with an assortment of needles and vials of a vibrant purple. Soon those needles and liquid were being injected into your arms, neck, and one was left for later.

Before you could scream and protest, as they knew you would soon enough, they put the same mouthpiece they had for him in your mouth. And the last needle they had on the tray had been handed over to the Doctor who stood next to your face. You had failed to notice who you had lost mobility of your body, and as the needle seemed to near your face you couldn’t move away. But the muffled screams allowed Bucky to understand the fear you felt the Doctor covered his actions, thus him failing to see how the needled went into your left eye.

You were still on the chair, unable to move a muscle, and Bucky couldn’t do anything to stop the torture you were being put through. But as he thought it over, like you did, a machine was brought in. A machine that he had never seen before. And now you seemed to have regained control of your body as you began to tremble. But then came the screaming that were stuck on your throat. Something was either going right, or something was going wrong because as soon as the scream had erupted from you, your veins shone purple under your skin. Whatever they had put in you was now doing something to you, and it became clear when things around you started to levitate. Things in the room were shaking and soon your hands were shining with a dark purple blame or energy. But what had everyone terrified were you now black eyes. And as a quiet spell had fallen, you soon broke it when the mouthpiece flew out of your mouth and a piercing scream came out of you as the energy that had been on your hands went right through the chests of two of the doctors that had injected you. And before anyone understood what happened you had passed out on the chair, looking pale and clammy…

"I think we found a way in, but we have to come back tomorrow, we cannot go in without backup," Steve said as he came out of the shed with you. He noticed the frown and the heavy breathing from his best friend, and with worry on his face he grabbed the man’s shoulder cautiously.

"Buck, hey man, you okay?" he said.

Bucky snapped his head to see the blue eyes of Steve swimming with worry, and with a hesitant smile he nodded, “yeah, I’m good. Just got lost in thought.”

He couldn’t look at you, he was scared that if he saw you he would see those black eyes, and he couldn’t bare to be reminded to the rest of the memories that followed that one. And you had noticed the way he avoided your eyes, but you had understood. He had remembered something traumatic, and you were not going to ask. If he wanted to tell you, he would.

“Alright.” Steve looked at you before looking back at his watch, “let’s head back to the hotel. We need to prepare for our next move.”

°°°°°°

It had been a quick meeting with not much from everyone else, aside from Vision’s aerial photos he had gotten when he had been around the sector you had been. It seemed you were right about the homeless having taken over, but what had caught your eye was some of the homeless didn’t look so homeless aside from their clothes. After everyone had been dismissed by Steve, you had pointed out your newfound clue. The trapdoor had been looked shut, but Steve had managed to open it to find it led to an underground tunnel that made way toward the building with no doors. You had gone down up to the door that led up to the building and had found a HYDRA symbol engraved on the side of the trapdoor on your way back. You had grabbed a rock and scraped it off at best of your ability.

After the private meeting with Steve he went to inform of the news to Fury and then he went to bed. You followed suit as you had taken the silence after he left to dwell on your earlier memory. Powers. You have powers. Well had. Nothing like that has ever been made appearance to you even before you knew who you truly were. Maybe whatever they had done, or whatever had happened didn’t work out at the end.

You hadn’t even made to your room when the door to Steve’s and Bucky’s room opened.

“Can’t sleep?”

Bucky snapped his head toward you; he’d failed to see you. He seemed frozen on the spot, and you only raised an eyebrow questionably.

“You okay?” you asked approaching him slowly.

Bucky looked down to the floor and then he looked up with worry written all over his face.

“We need to talk.”

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Don’t You Dare Say Goodbye

Summary: Being together for what feels like a lifetime, comes crumbling down on you and Bucky. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (i mean look at the title), bleeding, cussing, death, fight scene and Endgame spoilers? (i feel like we’ve all seen it by now)

Word Count: 1K (a lil short but woo sadness!)

Prompt: “I will protect you with my life.”

A/N: This is the first Endgame fic I wrote because I pretend like it didn’t happen. I feel like this was a bit cliche (but fuck it). Thank you @stuckonjbbarnes for letting me join your Angst vs Fluff writing challenge. Also small thanks to my babes @thorfanficwriter​​ and @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​​ for helping me decide how to attack people with angst lol. Lemme know what y’all think of this (feedback is very much appreciated). If you wanna be tagged in my future works shot me a message and I’ll happily add you! Please ignore the minor mistakes in this lol.

Fighting in a battlefield with aliens didn’t seem like the craziest thing when you first joined the avengers. You fought aliens before and even robots for god's sake, but this time seemed different. Everything had changed after Thanos’ snap five years ago. Everyone was trying to find their way back to ‘normalcy’ but you couldn’t bring yourself to what was done. Your best friend sacrificed herself to help your team make everything right. She wanted you to be happy again. She hated seeing you not act like your normal self. Natasha knew that you needed to be with the one you loved the most. 

Bucky.

Prior to the snap you fought alongside Steve in Berlin, when he and Tony had their little argument. Though when you had to fight against your best friend, with the help of Clint, both of you were trying to go a bit easy for one another. You and Nat were practically sisters when you first joined the team, the two of you glued to the hip. Each of you knew the consequences when you had to choose sides, but it didn’t matter because the two of you knew that in the end you both would still be best friends.

When you sided with team Cap you grew close with Bucky. He told you some stories about when he and Steve were younger. It was nice to hear about how they defended each other back in the day and how their friendship reminded you of yours and Nat’s. Slowly the two of you began to have feelings for one another and if Nat was with you she would have teased you hard, but Clint was there to do the job. You and Bucky shared more and more things about your past, interests, dislikes and etc. 

Sam was the first to actually do something because he was so annoyed with the two of you constantly flirting with one another. He actually went out of his way to make dinner reservations for the two of you. While Bucky was peeved about what Sam did, he was very grateful. For what felt like ages in that fancy restaurant you and Bucky felt complete. You both felt like you were the only people in the world. No universe. You couldn’t even describe how you both were feeling at that exact moment, but you knew that you both were meant for each other.

Now here you were killing aliens left and right with your trusty dual ended glaive, which could be taken apart and turned into two combat blades. You were getting tired of fighting these stupid things. When you felt like you had lost hope and that Thanos had won again, you heard Steve yell something behind you. Pulling out of your blades from the dead alien you turned around. You saw all these portals and many people come out of them charging towards the aliens you were fighting. You first saw Sam fly right out passing Steve and you from above. Your heart was racing, your friends were back. That must mean.

Bucky.

You ran past people fighting off Thanos’ crew. You needed to find him. You held both your blades conjoining them back to your glaive. you fought past aliens and rushed over trying to find him. You pass Wakandan soldiers and those who practiced the magic or the mystic arts like that man Tony talked about when he went to Titan to fight Thanos. So many things were happening around you and you honestly didn’t know when or if you’ll find him. Then that’s when you looked eyes with the man you have been looking for. The man you wished wasn’t dusted by the mad titan. The man you knew you were gonna marry if things didn’t go to shit.

“Bucky” you gasped, staring at him with tears in your eyes. It was like your prayers had been answered. You both ran towards each other like something out of a romantic movie scene. Both of you rushing over to finally be together after being apart for what felt like eternity. The two of you weaved around the people who were fighting trying to get closer and closer. Just when you both were a few feet apart you felt like you were getting slower and Bucky seemed like he was still far from you. 

You began to feel lightheaded and you knew for sure you were slowing down. Looking down, as you could feel your combat suit getting wet. Bringing your hand to the spot and lifting it up to examine it you saw crimson liquid. You looked back up to where Bucky was then you fell to the ground. 

“Y/N!” he yelled, running as fast as he could to get to you dodging everything and everyone. Right when he got to you he fell to his knees pulling you onto his lap. 

“Hey doll, you’re gonna be just fine.” he smiled at you as he brushed the stray hairs out of your face looking down at your wound. You smiled at him with tears in your eyes knowing that his comment wasn’t true. You knew that whatever wounded you  had no way of recovery.

“I missed you so much Bucky.” you said with tears now falling. You raised your hand to caress his cheek wiping away the tears that escaped his eyes.

“I missed you too, but you’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you back in shape ok.” he cried looking into your eyes.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ll make it.” you whispered as he held you closer.

“No, you will.” he exclaimed. “Remember I promised I would take you to Coney Island where we would ride all the rides and have different types of fair foods.” he smiled recalling the thought. You nodded yes in response. “We were supposed to go on the ferris wheel and that’s where I would propose to you.” he sobbed reaching in his pocket and pulling out a ring. You were crying at the thought. “And your response would be you teasing me about how cheesy a proposal on a ferris wheel is.” he chuckled.

“You know me so well Bucky.” you sniffled and you brought your hand up to the ring. He slid it down your finger and held your hand. Looking back up to your face he saw you were growing paler and paler by the minute. He didn’t care about the entire fight scene that was happening before the two of you. All he cared about was you. He finally got back. He can finally hold you in his arms again, but this isn’t how he wanted it to be. 

“Doll, stay with me. Don’t close those beautiful eyes.” he cried. You were slowly blinking and tried your best to stay conscious for what little time you had left. You needed to be there for one last time with Bucky.

“Bucky, you need to promise me that you help Steve and the others fight Thanos. You need to promise me that you will help everyone.” you began crying.

“Doll.” Bucky said, trying hush you.

“No, Bucky. Promise me that nobody dies when I go because I can’t part with the idea of another member of my team dying.” you sobbed staring at his blue eyes.

Shaking his head he said, “If you die now, then I die too. I will kill myself to stay with you.” Placing his hand on your cheek wiping your tears away. You shook your head as you weakly leaned into his touch.

“Bucky, stop.” you said as your voice began to shake. Your eyes watering as you squeezed his hand. 

“I will protect you with my life.” Bucky whispered as he placed his forehead on yours closing his eyes.

“No, baby. I need you to keep everyone safe, please. Do this for me. I don’t know how long I have left, but I know that everything will be fine. I’ll be ok because Nat is waiting for me. She’ll be looking after me until we meet again.” you whispered as you could feel all your energy and pain slip away. 

Bucky leaned back to stare at you. “No doll, don’t you dare say goodbye. Y/N! I LOVE YOU PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” he sobbed as he watched you getting physically weaker.

“I love you, Bucky.” you shed a tear as you said your final breath. Bucky stared down at your lifeless body, held you closer and tighter as he cried harder.

A/N: Sad right? Did I make you cry? because I did when I wrote this. Man I love writing angst it brings me joy...god it sounds like i have no heart. Anyways please lemme know what you think of this sadness! 

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