#as the wind passes over them during a jump or fall

[tovaicas]

sorry I'm whinging about these dungeons again bc I just hate them

[brainrotcharacters]

Lifeline

ship: opla luffy x reader

summary: Luffy sees you hanging over the edge of the ship, holding nothing but a piece of rope in your hand.

a/n: remember when I said my meltdown felt finished? So that was a fucking lie. I wrote a comfort fic instead.

tags: sfw, one piece live action, reader is a devil fruit eater, suicide attempt, angst/comfort, friendship, the Strawhat crew is a found family, Luffy fulfills the caregiver role

--

Everything was set into place. After such a long time, you finally controlled one part of your life.

Ending it.

You were going to do it during a clear night sky. There was the sounds of the winds against the sails of the Going Merry, and the lapping of the ocean waves against its magnificent hull. Usopp took great pride in keeping the ship in peak condition― it was easy to keep filling his mug with booze as he boasted about the ship, and it didn't take long for him to weave belowdecks to find his puke bucket.

Nami and Zoro were more difficult to put under, until a comment misheard by one of them led to another drinking game that ended with both of them unconscious under a table. Sanji helped you get them to bed, but when Zoro wrapped a massive arm around him, he was as good as pinned to the mattress with them. You ignored his pleas as you slowly exited the room, moving two barrels of dried meat in front of the door. Sanji's kicks are strong enough to break through wood, but the idea was to delay his movement, not stop him.

The rope in your hand strained as you lean further over the portside. Your feet remained on deck, but the rest of you teetered dangerously beyond the edge. As a Devil Fruit eater, you had a death wish, setting out to sea. Now you were proving everyone right.

"What are we looking for?"

Goddamn Luffy. You couldn't think of how to put him under, and now you were out of time. Luffy descended the ratlines at your right, eagerly squinting into the inky black ocean. "Are there any dolphins? Are they awake at night? I couldn't hear them from up at the crow's nest."

"Luffy..." you loosened your grip on the rope, the literal lifeline that kept you anchored to the ship. "Leave me alone for a bit, please. Sanji needs help with Nami and Zoro. They've been drinking."

"Sanji can take care of them." He planted his sandaled feet on the bulkhead, detaching from the ratlines. "He takes care of all of us. Even you."

Oh, the bastard. A forced, empty laugh escapes your mouth. "I feel the need to ask. Can you tell what I plan to do?"

He blinked slowly, and that's when you suspected he might succeed to persuade you against it. "Yeah. By the way, if you jump, I'm jumping in after you."

This time, you laughed more genuinely. True; in the short time that passed since you first joined, you knew Luffy had that type of personality.

Luffy smiled, simply happy that he heard your real laugh. The you that was his friend was still in there somewhere. "Y/n, please give me your hand."

He lifted his own, palm facing up. All things considered, he could use his ability and yank you back. But he wasn't that kind of captain―wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm out of place, captain." You keep your attention fixed on the ocean. It was easier than seeing Luffy's face. "I don't have much to offer anyone on this ship, least of all you. Joining you was a mistake."

"You don't mean that." Luffy had seen a similar devastation before. Nami, back when they helped free Coco Village from Arlong. "We like having you here. We all want to keep sailing with you."

A scoff splintered your throat on the way out. "What's your point?"

Luffy shifted on his feet, confused. The point? "You said you're out of place. Then, we'll make a place for you!" He thought they were already doing that, anyway.

He watched your grip on the rope slacken further. Only an inch of rope left before you fall to your death. Luffy scowled. "What about your dream?"

You roll your eyes, even as they prickle with tears. You say over your shoulder. "Someone else will be born and have the same dream. Let them fulfill it."

Luffy stopped himself from complaining about how lazy, how defeated of a thinking that was. Think like a captain. He told himself. "Y/n, no one else will pursue your dream the same way you would. That other person will do one thing differently than you, and you wouldn't be able to scold them for not following your lead. Because you chose to jump tonight."

The stars shimmered on the ocean surface tonight. You couldn't see where the sky ended and the sea began, only that it was dark. And Luffy was a red and blue and orange beacon within your reach.

"They won't..." You swallow the image that formed in your head. A child who didn't know any better, deciding to change one key element of your dream for the hell of it. "They won't pursue it how I would."

"Right." You heard Luffy take two steps closer. "So come on, Strawhat. Take my hand."

You find the strength to turn your head. Luffy's hand remained lifted, open and welcoming. Especially to the undeserving.

He offered you a tender, genuine smile. The softness reached his eyes. "We both know that when you take my hand, I will help you. All of us will help you, Y/n. But only after you reach for my hand."

He was cruel, your captain. This was him asking you to continue living. To continue suffering, to continue feeling pain. With him. With everyone. The annoying thing about Luffy was that he believed his crew has each other's backs, and actively made sure it became true.

Zoro was half asleep, but he still protected the back of Nami's head when they both fell on their asses under the table. Sanji complained about Zoro's weight on him, but still made sure his and Nami's necks were at comfortable angles. Usopp embraced everyone good night and sang garbled songs about how he found his courage with the crew, on his way belowdecks. When the singing stopped, the puking began. Sanji and you had chuckled to overhear it.

Goddamnit. You think to yourself, twisting fully and grabbing Luffy's hand.

Your captain grinned, pulling you close. His arms were solid as they braced around your middle, hand grasping your shoulder from behind. His face was buried in your hair, his next words muffled. "There we go. The crew is complete again."

[heavcnslyre]

chapter five — j.f. ( masterlist )

IT’S TIME TO GO.

“or that moment again,

he’s insisting that friends look at each other like that.”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree @always-reading @yla-aira @infinitywarnatenthusiast @imogen-skye @ilovegilmoregirls @lucidlivi (comment or message me to join!)

you sit at the house all day, laying in bed and waiting for the hangover to pass. belly went with laurel and susannah to shop for debutante dresses, steven and jeremiah were working, and you had no idea where conrad went, so you had the house to yourself. the next few days passed in a similar blur, where belly prepared for her debutante ball and hung out with a guy who jeremiah called ‘cam cameron’, who you found out later that she had met at the bonfire.

one particular day, you were sitting on the couch, re-reading your favorite book for probably the thousandth time. jeremiah had gone to work early that morning, but he had come to your room and said goodbye to you before he left. he had done that a lot recently, ever since the bonfire. you wondered if part of him just felt bad for you, but you didn’t mind even if that was the case. it felt good to have someone checking up on you. especially him.

laurel and susannah were devastated for you when you finally told them the news about peter and cassie the night after it happened. laurel was immediately on her feet, absolutely pissed, mumbling about how much she— and you— had done for cassie and how much of a backstabbing bitch she was. susannah had gathered you in her arms, holding you tight. she reassured you that you would do much better someday and while friends and lovers come and go, family is forever, and she reminded you that you were surrounded by your family now and to cherish that. that night, you couldn’t sleep, so you snuck into laurel’s room and asked her to move over so you could stay with her, just like you did when you were a kid. she was happy to have you there with her. after that night, and the continued support you got from everyone, you really were feeling much better. the reality did kick in, though, and you began to be very bored during the days while everyone was living their lives. you had spent so much time worrying about peter that you forgot about your real life. you considered getting a job. you decided that was a future you problem. for now, you were going to read and chill on the beach. maybe next week you’ll find a job.

as you’re lost in your book, your trance is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside. it was so sudden that it made you physically jump from your position spread out on the couch to completely sitting upright. you look outside and your eyes widen. the sky was so intensely dark that you wondered how you didn’t notice the lighting in the entire house dim. a few moments later, the rain begins to pour down, falling in literal sheets. you didn’t start to panic until the wind picked up and the next rumble of thunder shook the entire house. you shot up from the couch, your mind immediately racing, trying to think of where everyone else was, and trying to figure out if there was anything you needed to do to keep the house safe from the storm. suddenly, you remember that conrad was at the beach. everyone else was out somewhere where they could definitely find shelter, but conrad had gone surfing just an hour ago. your heart began to race as you ran to the door, trying to see out to the beach. but, the visibility was terrible. the wind was insane, and the rain would not stop coming. you pull out your phone and text him, which you figure is a long shot, but it was worth a try. while you had your phone out, other texts began to flood in.

belly: hey, u okay? storm picked up pretty fast. powers out at the club, they’re sending us home as soon as it calms down a bit

laurel: Are you and Conrad the only ones home? Are you guys okay? Go into the basement if you get too worried or if the wind picks up more. Keep me updated.

steven: hey, you okay? is conrad with you?

jeremiah: this storm is WILD. stay inside, i’ll be home soon. no lifeguarding when the weather could kill you!😋

as you’re reading everyone’s messages, the sliding door opens. your head shoots up and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of conrad, completely drenched, standing on the mat inside the door. you throw your phone down and immediately hug him tightly, not caring that he was all wet. “thank god you’re okay.”

he hesitates, but hugs you back. “yeah. saw the storm coming, but still got caught in it. you okay?”

you pull back and nod. “me? i’m fine. you scared me shitless, though.”

“sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “where’s everyone else?”

“belly and jere are at the club, but they’ll be back soon they say. i think steven’s there too. i don’t know about our moms. they were super weird when they left, just said they had to go into town and they’d be back later. i’ve heard from my mom, though.”

conrad’s face drops when you mention your moms and their secrecy. he runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “alright. i’m gonna go change. let me know if you hear anything else. and uh, stay away from the windows, okay?”

you nod and he walks past you and up the stairs. honestly, that was the most you had talked to him since you guys got to cousins. but, as jeremiah and belly both told you, there was something going on with him. you knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it, though. conrad was stubborn. he was going to figure this out on his own, and reach out when he was ready. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

a minute after conrad disappears up the stairs, the power goes out. you groan in frustration, taking note of the immediate drop in temperature and the very little light inside the house. in a house with so many windows, you’d think it would not get that dark. today though, with the conditions of the grey sky and never ending rain, there was no natural light coming in. luckily, you knew that susannah always had candles, so after searching a few cabinets, you found her collection. you lit a bunch of them with matches, placing them all around the downstairs to attempt to spread the light. then, you lit the fireplace, hoping to add some warmth to the room. in anticipation of everyone else getting home, you grab some blankets from the closet and put them on the couch, finding the softest one and wrapping it around your own body.

a moment later, to your surprise, the front door creeks open. you peek around the corner (making sure it wasn’t a murderer first), and sigh when you see that it’s steven, belly, and jeremiah, all drenched from the rain, just like conrad was.

“what are you guys doing here?” you ask, moving towards them. “i figured you’d be at the club a while. the roads are too shitty to be driving on.”

jeremiah and steven share a nervous look, then look back at you. “i uh—” jeremiah starts. “i drove us back.”

“you what?” you ask, your face dropping.

jeremiah took a step towards you. “(y/n), i know. but listen, we were all so worried about you and conrad being here alone. we just figured it was safer for all of us if we came home. and the drive wasn’t even bad, i promise. we made it here, right? we’re okay!”

“you could’ve died, jeremiah,” you say. “you could’ve killed yourself or belly or steven or all of you. they close the roads when it storms like this for a reason.”

“he drove really well,” steven chimes in. “like, even better than usual. and you know that jere’s like the best driver. it really was okay.”

you sigh and look at all three of them. they all had guilty yet worried expressions on their faces, and belly wouldn’t even look at you. you sigh. “you’re all idiots. go change, guys. i got the fire going in the living room when you’re done.”

“yes ma’am!” steven salutes you and trudges up the stairs, belly following close behind. jeremiah stays for a moment, facing you.

“(y/n), i’m sorry. i really am. i just…we figured that family needs to stay together. and when the power went out, we were just worried about you guys here. conrad’s okay, right?” jeremiah sidetracks. you nod and point upstairs and he sighs. “okay good. just, don’t be mad. please. i promise we didn’t mean to worry you.”

you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “not mad at you. i just…freaked out. that really was a terrible thing, jere. i don’t know what i would’ve done if something happened to you guys.”

he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you lightly. “you don’t have to think about that. we made it.”

“i know. i just wish you would’ve stayed where it was safe so the thought didn’t have to exist at all.”

“you’re happy we’re here, though,” jeremiah teases. you push him away lightly, shaking your head.

“whatever. go change. check on conrad while you’re up there.”

“whatever you say,” he gives you one last smile before heading up the stairs. you turn back to the living room, throwing yourself down onto your favorite spot on the couch. eventually, belly appears in the doorway. you hold your blanketed arm out and she sits next to you, wrapping the blanket over her shoulders. her skin is cold next to you, so you grab another blanket and lay it over her. she rests her head on your shoulder.

“sorry we almost died,” she says after a few minutes. you sigh.

“it’s okay, bells. i’m just glad you guys are okay,” you say. “how was your practice today?”

she shrugs. “it was fine. it was dance practice, though. and i was alone. i just…i gotta figure out who’s gonna escort me soon or else i’m gonna get in so much trouble.”

“what about cam? i thought you were gonna ask him.”

belly stretches. “i uh, broke things off with him, actually.”

“you did?” you ask, shocked. “why?”

“conrad’s been, um, different with me lately. a good different. i just have thought, maybe…” she trails off, her eyes focused on her lap. you bump her shoulder with yours lightly.

“just be careful with your heart, bells. make sure you know what you’re getting into before you dive headfirst, okay?”

belly nods. “i know. thank you.”

she settles back on your shoulder and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. soon enough, jeremiah comes back downstairs, steven close behind him. steven immediately grabs a blanket and beelines for a spot on the floor next to the fire.

“this feels incredible.”

you smile. “we’re just lucky susannah put wood in there recently. otherwise we would’ve been screwed.”

“hey, uh, where is she?” jeremiah asks, as if he had just noticed her absence. “and laurel?”

“they went into town earlier,” you explain. “wouldn’t tell me why. but my mom texted me not too long ago. they should be okay.”

jeremiah nods, although he seems somewhat unconvinced. “okay. thank you.”

before you can say anything else, he disappears into the kitchen. belly calls out, “don’t open the fridge!” and he laughs. “i know!”

eventually, conrad joins you guys in the living room and you’re all sprawled out, talking and laughing like you used to do a lot when you were kids. as you’ve gotten older, all of you were still close, but had definitely grown apart from where you were as young kids. things change as you grow up, people change. as much as it hurt, it truly was inevitable for anyone. but this, this felt like it used to. these people felt like home.

“oh my god do you guys remember that one time when we were at the boardwalk and conrad puked after the tilt-a-whirl so belly ran away and we couldn’t find her for an hour?” steven says. you all burst into laughter, even belly, who’s cheeks turned slightly pink.

“it was gross! i wanted to get away from it, then i got lost. i cried that entire hour.”

“we’ve gotta go back to the boardwalk this summer,” you say after you all stopped laughing as hard. “we haven’t been in years! i miss it there!”

“yes please!” jeremiah exclaims. “i hear they’ve added more rides that are like, utterly terrifying.”

“that’s…definitely something to be excited about,” belly says sarcastically. “but yes, definitely we’ve gotta go. maybe after deb season is over, though. i just feel like i have too much going on right now as it is.”

“oh yeah,” steven says. “bells, who are you bringing as your escort? isn’t the deadline like, the end of the week? the ball is in like less than three weeks.”

belly casts a quick look at conrad, but almost immediately after they lock eyes, she looks away. “i…don’t know. i’ll figure it out. i hope.”

“i can take you if you want, bells,” jeremiah pipes up. everyone looks at him, shocked. your heart drops. “i mean, i was at your dance lesson today. i know a lot of what goes on. and i know i’ve got a suit somewhere. if you don’t find anyone else, just let me know.”

belly grins at him. “thank you, jere. i’ll probably take you up on that.”

the two of them share a smile and you look down at your hands, your stomach suddenly in knots. did he really just offer to be an escort for belly? after all his big talk about never participating last year? out of everyone in cousins, belly was the exception for him? suddenly, you felt like an idiot. of course she was the exception. they’ve always been best friends. you felt so stupid for ever thinking that maybe things were shifting to more for the two of you. it was for the better, anyways, right? he could be belly’s escort to the ball, you could watch them be perfect together, and pretend it didn’t bother you. exactly like how you had acted every summer before now while jeremiah flirted with other people. nothing had to change. you just had to get these thoughts out of your head.

you’re broken out of your thoughts by belly bumping your shoulder with hers. “(y/n)? you good?”

“huh?” you look at her, suddenly aware you had been just staring at nothing. “oh. yeah, i’m fine,” you take a quick glance at jeremiah, who suddenly is really interested in his blanket. you stand up abruptly. “i’ll just, i’ll be back.”

before anyone can say anything, you go upstairs, and close your bedroom door behind you. you felt terrible for ruining the good vibe that the five of you had going, but you really were starting to feel sick. as much as you tried to suppress your feelings for jeremiah, it really wasn’t ever going to work. you would forever feel this pathetic longing for him; always be the one pining. it wasn’t fair, honestly. he was the one who constantly flirted with you and went out of his way to do things to make you feel special, yet you were the only one with feelings. it was a disgusting feeling. you wished for nothing more than for it to go away. good for belly for finding someone to escort her. good for jeremiah for finding his one exception in his life. good for both of them. you just had to play supportive sister in all of this, even if it made you sick.

[sleepybbie]

KOI NO YOKAN | nagi x reader

summary: koi no yokan - the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love. nagi still remembers the day he met you and the day he fell in love with you.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader

notes: from nagi’s pov! h/c - hair color, h/l - hair length, e/c - eye color, f/n - friend’s name <33

a/n: aaahh i love this man sm ! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

nagi still remembers the day he first saw you.

it was during one of his football practices at school. his good friend, reo and his other teammates were practicing as usual on the field, the soccer ball being kicked around—same old, same old. it was a hassle to have practices after school when he could just be at home at the moment, play video games all day and have the most relaxing naps alone at his home.

well now that his life had changed after he met the ambitious mikage son, nagi knew he couldn’t go back to that boring lifestyle he used to have anymore.

“nagi over here, over here…!” he hears reo yell from the side. today’s practice was a 5 on 5 match at hakuho high’s soccer club. nagi nonchalantly yet swiftly kicked the ball towards reo without any second thought in his head except of going home early after today’s game. when reo caught the ball, the purple haired boy ran towards the goal, confusing the enemy side with his small dribbling tricks to attempt to distract them, and passed it to a nearby teammate.

nagi almost let out a loud grunt when that same teammate that reo passed to, kicked the ball so high it went out of the field in full speed. “it’s out! someone catch it before it hits somebody!” someone beside reo yelled. reo looked over at nagi and shouted, “nagi quick! get it!”

what a pain…

his legs now running with speed, nagi’s eyes glued to the floating ball failed to notice people standing in his direction. including a group of friends who were now running out of the way. the ball was now heading towards someone..he picked up the pace a little.

“y/n watch out!” a call of somebody’s name echoed into his ears before nagi jumped up high and caught the ball within seconds with his feet. thank goodness he got it just in time, or else it would’ve already hit the person in front of him. the moment he stopped the ball, it was if he managed to stop time, too. nagi’s grey orbs scanning down to see a face just right below him.

a girl

her eyes were looking back at him, filled with surprise and amazement. his white bangs flowed along with the rhythm of the cold wind that hit his face, he could see her properly from his vision. h/c h/l hair, her eyes were a hue of e/c pupils. at that same split second, the earth created a collision between two people for their first meeting, much more different than fate walking pass by—like a painter touching a skin of a canvas for the first time in order to create a masterpiece.

the ball stopped, and nagi swiftly landed on the ground, trying to push himself as much as possible to not hit the girl on his way. kicking the ball back up, nagi kicks the ball back into the field and watches as reo takes it and slammed the ball towards the goal, earning another point for their team. 3-0, it was slightly unfair. there were yells from that same area—saying how that pass was even possible. though, mostly everyone knows hakuho high’s crazy soccer duo.

nagi places both of his hands on his hip, letting out a sigh before he faces the person standing behind him. she’s still there, looking scared of what just happened. “uhmm…” he began, “are you alright?”

she winces. odd..he was at least twice the times taller than her figure. although he knows that there were other girls shorter than her in this school, she was just one of them. “oh…! uhh, yes i’m ok. t-thank you for saving me..” she says, giving nagi a short bow. a shy type of student? she seems to stutter easily upon talking. nagi raises a brow, a little perplexed, “it’s not much of a big deal, anyways…i wouldn’t really call that saving..”

the girl blinks her eyes twice and she chuckles, seeming unbothered of what just happened. she had a nice smile, warm and stitched beautiful across her kind expression. he changed his mind, was this girl the calm type? she’s certainly showing no concern of the trouble his teammate made (and he had to stop it for him). thinking about someone’s facial expression is such a bother, why is he even thinking of it?

“i’m honest. if it weren’t for you i would’ve got hit. so, thank you so much,” she says, quite in a soft tone. maybe she was the soft-hearted type..? she looks studious. she’s probably smart, too. at this point, nagi feels like he’s already judging a person based on their looks, but he couldn’t help it.

“eh..like i said, ‘s not much of a big de—

“y/n! ugh, thank goodness you’re ok!” the sentences were cut off soon when the person who was with her (who is probably her friend) ran straight to her side, concerned expressions on her face as her hands clutch onto her shoulders, shaking them.

“i-i’m fine, f/n..! i didn’t get hit i swear..!”

“i know but still…!” her friend looked over to nagi’s direction, and the snowy haired boy knew he was going to get an earful by this random chick who was defending her best friend. maybe if he just sneaked off, then he’ll be safe..? “hey nagi, could you and your team kindly stop kicking the ball so hard?? you guys could’ve hit someone, y’know?!” she began, and nagi immediately discarded his short plan. yeah, he’s used to this by now.

“oi are you listening?!”

‘ugh, so noisy, what a hassle..and how does this girl even know my name? do i know her?’

“ahh..! f/n! i’m sorry, sorry. about my teammate kicking the ball out of the field,” well about time his savior arrived. nagi watches as reo appeared out from behind and nervously raised both of his hands up as a stop gesture to back the girl named f/n up away from the sleepy genius. f/n scoffs, “reo…hey, it would be appreciated if you tell your team to calm down with the ball or else it would’ve hit y/n right here. if it weren’t for this guy then i’d be seeing her at the infirmary room.”

this girl is so loud, nagi thinks. compared to the girl he just saved from the soccer ball. f/n mentioned her name is…y/n? huh..

“i’m really sorry again. i’ll tell that to them. i’m sorry, too, y/n. i hope it didn’t scare you much.”

“like i said, it’s ok…! you don’t need to apologize, reo. i’m fine, see?”

oh, his friend knows y/n, too.

“reo, you know them?” nagi questions. reo looked over at nagi and raises his brow, looking puzzled. f/n had an offended look over her face while y/n just giggled. did he say anything wrong? he’s sure he asked him right.

“nagi…these two are our classmates..”

nagi blinks. “oh…really?”

“the hell do you mean, really?!” f/n shouts at him, obviously pissed. maybe he should stop sleeping in class all the time…or sneak off during recess to play..? yet again, reo is always finding ways to look for him at break hours.

reo sighs as he rolled his eyes. “calm down…he’s always like this. c’mon nagi, let’s go back to practice. we got another match next week.”

“mm..”

“you better keep your word, reo..! let’s go, y/n,” f/n uttered to the purple haired male, reo waves off as a response while nagi still stood there. f/n calmly took y/n’s hand and walked off the opposite direction, dragging her along.

“ah..! bye nagi…! thank you once again..!” y/n waves to him, with a smile. and then the two friends left.

nagi was a little surprised. it was the first time a girl said goodbye like that to him…exception of his other female relatives and his mom. a classmate of his.

nothing else to say, he raises his hand up, waving back. “bye..?” his voice was soft, only he could hear it, as if there was a lump trapped between his throat.

that was strange

he remembers the first time he had a long chat with you.

it was when reo held a study group for the upcoming exams their school was having. everyone knew how smart the mikage’s son is, so they immediately asked him if he could help them with tutoring. who was he to say no?

however, reo wanted to drag nagi along as well for the group study session. nagi at first, declined; saying it was too much of a bother to even study for an exam (even if it was an upcoming long test) and that he was far too tired to come with them (not to mention a whole group of students he doesn’t know is coming, too). it took the lazy male awhile to just say ‘yes’ to the rich boy after what seemed like an hour of endless pleading for him to tag along. the only reason why nagi decided to, is because reo made a solution of doing the study session at a huge cafe that was nearby an arcade shop.

once the group was ready to stroll, nagi stayed far behind from them as mostly every student talked to reo while walking towards the cafe, he just walked, being occupied by his phone.

“oh! reo, f/n said that they’ll follow by. what cafe are we going to, again? gotta tell her so she’ll know where we’re studying.”

“oh, just the cafe 20 minutes near our school beside the arcade store. tell her and she’ll know.”

oh shit…nagi remembers her. the girl that gave him the stink eye when the soccer ball almost hit…

‘what was her name again…?’ nagi’s thoughts began to sink in wonder. oh right…her name is y/n. it’s been a long time since nagi last saw her. so y/n’s friend was coming by to the study group…great, looks like god wasn’t on his side today. he’s a 100% sure she’ll be irritated if she saw him there at the same table.

when the group entered the cafe, reo easily booked them a large table where all could sit beside one another without any problems. everyone cheered for him. nagi wasn’t able to sit besides reo since it seems like he was seated between two girls who were calling over for his attention, asking how this formula works or how to solve this problem in the most ear screeching voice nagi could ever hear. maths was hell, and reo was a master of all subjects in their class.

it was around 1:58pm when their group studying began. nagi barely paid any attention to what reo was tutoring to them. he’s silently playing on his phone that was well hidden under the desk, while his classmates focused on their books in hand. when he finds reo to be distracted with the tutoring, nagi decided to pretend to excuse himself to go to the bathroom; when he’s really planning to visit the arcade next door instead. the snowy haired male wasn’t interested in the study anyways.

he finds himself going outside the cafe and hurriedly rushed to the arcade door, where at first enter was a glance of neon lights and game-like explosions blasting from the inside. nagi’s eyes sparkled from the sight of one of his favorite games at one of the arcade stalls nearby, he had enough quarters with him, maybe playing a few rounds wouldn’t hurt.

the thing that was a pain, is that there were many players on line. as in many. the game had its reasons of why it was going popular today, and nagi knew that very well.

‘such a hassle…there’s so many people in line…better if i exchange a few quarters first just in case..’ he thoughts to himself as he heads towards to one of the employers in the arcade arena. the aisle was surrounded by a lot of people possibly his age, and some half of them were loving couples who were comfortable enough to flirt with one another in public. displaying affection in areas like this is enough to make nagi sick.

next to him were crane machines (and players throwing slight tantrums when the stuffed animal went back down), ticket counters, and racing car games. his eyes darted everywhere, trying to look for a few exchanges for his whole dollar yen until he spotted a figure in front of one of the crane machines.

h/l h/c hair..a short figure…and the reflection of the glass from the crane game.

ah

oh..!

it was her

her hands were manoeuvring over the crane’s handle, focusing on what stuffed animal she plans to get. however, the stuffed bunny fell back down to where it came from, and he hears y/n groan in dismay. nagi finds himself watching her attempt to get the stuffed bunny for at least two more rounds. although, in those two rounds, the poor girl still wasn’t able to get the stuffed toy she wanted. her pout made her look like a toddler. nagi had no idea how long he was gazing at y/n till he failed to notice she was already turning around and saw him. she jumped in surprise.

“ah..! n-nagi-san..?! is that you??”

“oh…hey,” was all he replied, very casually. y/n’s face shifted into a look of puzzlement, holding her school bag tight in her palms as she tilted her head, “what are you doing here? i thought you were part of reo’s study group..”

“eh..got bored. decided to drop by here instead. what’re you doing here?”

she giggles. “aha, you’re…very blunt and straightforward about it. i’m here because f/n-chan is part of the study group..isn’t reo going to be angry if he finds out you’re here..?”

he shrugs, “don’t know. but i know reo, so i trust he won’t. i think..” he thinks. he’s been playing with the purple haired boy for almost 4 months now, and his talent being used as an instrument for soccer and for his and reo’s dream to bring home the world cup…nagi just wishes he would know how to study expressions more. but now…reo wasn’t with him, instead there’s this girl (who is his classmate at school), looking over at him with a curious stare.

“don’t worry. i’ll talk to him out of this if he did.”

“ah…ok, i see..”

“by the way, are you having trouble getting that plush bunny at the crane machine?”

“eh..?? so you’ve noticed..”

“ ‘ts easy. don’t know why you have such a hard time..”

“i-i’m not an expert..!”

“mm..then, i’ll give it a try..”

“you will..??”

“mm..”

nagi wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him when he decided to take over the controller of the crane machine, however he did know is that he easily won the bunny plushie for y/n, who gave him the most softest and widest smile he has ever seen. reo had beamed at him like that before, in fact he was the first one who had ever shown nagi appreciation and like towards the boring genius. but, something about how y/n did seemed…a little odd.

“that was amazing..! you did it with no hesitation..!”

“like i said, ‘ts easy..all you have to do is find the right angle and press the button to grab it.”

“how are you able to find the perfect angle so easily though?? nagi-san you must have sharp eyes.”

“you ask a lot of questions..”

“ah! sorry!”

and the next thing he knew, he was sitting next to her at one of the dining tables, licking on an ice cream while y/n continued to talk a lot about her interests. in return, nagi told her about him and reo, and at first y/n mistaken the two of them as a couple due to how close they were. the only reply nagi gave was ‘cringe.’

“i’m not interested in getting into a relationship…sounds like a drag to always have quality time with them just because you like them..”

“though, not quality time is always required in a relationship, nagi-san. there are other languages in love, too…i heard..”

“is that so? well that’s even more of a bother…”

having such a conversation like this with a girl…nagi has no idea what was coming to him.

he didn’t know how long they started talking to one another. all he knew, was that he helped her win a stuffed animal in some boring crane machine, and she followed him when he began to play the game he waited for, and watched him beat every player lined up, then, the two of them went to a dining table at the side and ordered ice cream. however, their convo with one another was cut short when f/n bursted inside the arcade along with reo, and spotted the two of them together eating. reo had this fizzled expression on his look, his face having questions of what the two of them were doing together, while f/n was surprised her best friend was with someone like nagi.

“oh! nagi-san, before we part, do you have line?”

nagi felt his shoulders weigh down a bit. “line id? uhh…yeah.”

“let’s exchange ids…is it ok? i…i wanna keep talking to you.”

head empty, nagi wasn’t sure what to reply for that while her best friend seems to be staring at him intensely.

“mm…sure.”

well, at least it was you who made the first move…nagi thinks to himself.

weird

he will never forget the day…in which the day he fell in love with you.

the news of the blue lock staff members giving the bllk-11 team the order of having a vacation after defeating the u20 team brought excitement over to nagi’s head. he missed his home, ahh he also missed his cactus, he misses his warm bed and…

‘ah…why am i thinking of y/n again..?’

once he got all his stuff back, nagi made the decision of jumping on his mattress and take a nap when he’s back home. he was fetched home by one of the blue lock buses, he bid farewell to the friends he made along the way during the (hellish) soccer project, and by the time he reaches his door, nagi was happy to find choki back all healthy on his window still.

probably ba-ya was the one who returned choki. he did leave it on her hands after all. then again…he remembered what he told reo back during their match alongside isagi and barou. nagi couldn’t help but give out a small sigh once he looked over choki.

‘such a drag…thinking too much is a hassle..’

he left his stuff on the ground before jumping on his bed and bringing out his phone. the weather was nice…comfortable even. the perfect weather where he can do nothing but sleep the entire day away.

if that’s the case…why is he suddenly looking for y/n’s contact number?

when the other line rung, he can hear her picking up the phone, her breath shaky on the side.

“y/n?”

“ah..! nagi-san, sorry if i picked up late!”

“eh..? that was a quick pick up than i expected, y’know..?” she… still sounded the same. during the match with u20, he could actually see her at one of the stalls of the audience along with her friends. he wanted to wave hi, nagi wanted to talk to her even like before after the game. he just didn’t know he only had the courage now to make a call. come to think of it, why did he even call her on the first place?

“ehe…sorry, i was cleaning my room. ah.! also, congrats on your team’s win. i’m so happy for you and reo!”

he frowns. “mm, thanks..”

“how is he by the way? i was texting him after the game but…he’s not responding. is he alright?”

nagi thinks of himself as someone who would just cast everything away aside so that it wouldn’t be a problem for him (or as he’d like to call it, be more of a bother to him). so, he’s so confused on why he’s telling y/n everything of what happened to him at blue lock, what happened between him and reo, and the rush he felt during the progress of becoming the world’s best striker. he was letting all of his feelings out…to nobody but y/n.

y/n listens attentively, humming on every detail he said. giving feedback of what she thinks…comforting him on the other side of the phone.

what nagi didn’t know the most, of why his heart was beating so fast right now.

more…he wanted to talk to her more..

he didn’t even realize it began to rain outside his window. the snowy haired male didn’t realize either he was talking to her for so long. nagi isn’t a chatty person, everyone knows his stoic and unbothered behaviour, however when it came to y/n..he just doesn’t know what’s going on with himself anymore.

nagi feels warm.

“nagi-san…are you ok?” y/n’s voice was soft, like a whisper. she sounded concerned, worried. nagi’s eyes dropped to the cushion of his bed, staring at his socks—feeling the rain patter hard on the window next to him, and his grey eyes painted with a natural dull cover.

“yeah..” is all he replied. “..m just feeling a bit tired. that’s all.”

“i see…i’m glad you called. i was also planning to call you. i just decided to tidy up around first before doing so, yet i didn’t expect you’d call me first..aha..” y/n says, letting out a soft giggle. nagi could hear her adjust her phone, the sound of soft pillows rummaging on the other side. she was probably laying down on her bed right now as it rained.

“you know…after your game against the u-20 team…i wanted to see you.”

just like the moment when reo looked up to him and his boring demeanor, when he first made the scoring goal against the u-20, when he managed to trick rin itoshi back at blue lock…nagi felt like his heart beating ten times faster now. the world pauses for a second, he couldn’t hear the rain outside anymore, only the sound of his heartbeat echoing through. the feeling of warmth that he felt when talking to her…it seemed to be increasing so much he feels the tip of his ears turning red.

this is a new feeling to him. not like any soccer match or anything involved with reo and his other friends, no. all of this fuzzy emotions building up inside of his stomach…all new. there was silence over the phone.

“u-umm..sorry, that was a strange thing to say, isn’t it?”

nagi fixed his posture a little, pulling a pillow close to his chest. “nah…well, maybe a bit. it isn’t much of a bother though.”

badump

“oh really..? well i’m glad then! i thought i might’ve said something awkward…sorry, you were just silent for a moment there i thought you were feeling odd about what i said.”

badump

he hugs the pillow tighter. “no.. ‘s fine..i was just surprised you wanted to talk and see someone like me. you and reo are weird.”

badump

“e-eh? only? i’m really sorry then!”

badump..

“but really though, i really hope you and reo get along again soon. you two are so well known in our school..! popular even, i overhear the girls in the bathroom that you two are amazing that you guys brought a powerhouse school down!”

stupid fucking heart..why do you keep beating so fast? you’re just talking to a girl.

the rain fell a little fainter, although the melodies of his heart didn’t seem to stop whenever y/n continued to talk on the phone. his bangs covered his eyes, only listening to her soothing tone of her sweet voice. she sounded pretty…so fucking pretty.

“hey..” nagi suddenly cuts her off. this strange sensation rubbing through his chest. y/n obliged, and immediately went quiet. “hm?”

“i think i like you.”

maybe he was the strange one after all.

[nyxoz]

Halloween smut with Scream Eddie nothing else matters

life’s no fun without a good scare

ghostface/scream!Eddie x Reader

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Horror themes, knife play, smut, thigh fucking, P in V sex, unprotected sex, mentions of CNC, mask stays on during sex, thick thighs save lives, dom/sub undertones.

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more scream fics!

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The final trick-or-treater of the night leaves with the last bit of your candy. A sweet little ballerina who did a pirouette on your front porch just for you. 

Your feet are hurting from being on them all night, so you decide to run a bath. As the water reaches the top of the tub, you strip your shirt and pants. As you reach for your bra clasps the doorbell rings. You sigh, must be a random trick-or-treater, you hate to have to tell them you’ve got no candy left. 

You turn the tap off on the bath and grab your robe, covering your panties and bra, and wrapping it tightly around your body. You walk out of your bathroom towards the front door and pass the TV in the living room that is playing the third horror movie of the night. You catch a glimpse of Michael Myers just as you reach the front door. 

You open it to reveal… no one. 

There’s no one there. You take a few steps out and look around your street to see it completely empty. Hawkins is eerie at night, especially with the added Halloween decorations covering people’s front lawns. The wind howls in the distance and you take one final look before turning to walk back inside. 

Just as you turn around something jumps at your feet. You gasp and bounce back, looking down to find eyes staring at you in the dark. You squint a little and soon see a black cat. More specifically your neighbour's cat. Bending down, you reach out a hand and scratch his soft head.

“You scared me, honey.” You coo. He begins walking to the opposite end of your porch and you walk after him. He jumps up onto the railing and you give him one final pat before he jumps off and back towards his house. As you watch him you hear the creak of the porch steps, you turn around to see who it is and again, no one is there. 

You shake your head and sigh. 

“Stupid scary movies.” You mutter as you make your way back inside. 

You make sure to triple-check the lock before walking back to your bathroom. As you enter the dark hallway you see something run from one bedroom across to another. You stop still in your tracks. 

“Hello?” You call out, “Is someone there?” 

When no one answers you decide that you just imagined it. You carefully go to walk past the bedrooms to the bathroom and as you do something crowds against you pushing you up against a wall. 

You scream as your back hits the wall hard and you feel the cool steel of a knife press up against your throat. 

You look up through thick lashes and see a white mask staring back at you. A mask that you’re all too familiar with. 

“Are you scared?” a deep voice asks. It almost makes you chuckle, hearing Eddie trying to hide his normal voice. 

“What are you gonna do, slit my throat?” 

A warm chuckle comes from the mask and he pulls the knife away a little to trace the tip along your jugular. 

“Nah, you should stand behind someone when you cut their throat. Too messy otherwise, you’ll get blood alllllll over yourself.” 

You lick over your bottom lip and flutter your lashes as you look at the ghost face.

“Well, what are you gonna do to me?” 

Eddie’s free hand, that’s covered in a black leather glove, comes out and grabs at the rope holding your robe together. He tugs on it till it comes undone and your robe falls open, revealing your bra and panties. 

“Hmmm,” he says, the knife comes to the collar of the robe and pushes it over your shoulder, “Dunno, haven’t decided yet.” The robe drops off both your arms and lands on the floor around your feet, leaving you in just your underwear. 

You stand there leaning against the wall while he towers over you in his disguise. Slowly, you sidestep towards the open door to your right and Eddie’s mask follows you as you go. 

You backstep into the room, and Eddie starts following you. You stand between your bed and mirror vanity, waiting for him to make the next move. 

He walks in front of you, and you can see yourself from the mirror in the corner of your eye. His knife comes up and traces between the valley of your breasts, over your chest and collarbone before it slides under the strap of your bra. You look down and watch as the knife turns so the sharp side faces up and he pulls the knife toward him, cutting the strap cleanly. 

A small gasp escapes your lips as the cup falls and exposes your breast. The cool air hits your nipple and it starts to harden. 

He quickly does the same to the other side looking down through his mask at both your round tits sitting perfectly in front of him. 

Reaching over his shoulder, you hear the sound of velcro pulling apart and the black gown he’s wearing slips down his shoulders and he lets it drop to the ground. It reveals a faded black band tee with the sleeves cut off, tucked into his classic black ripped jeans. His cut-off sleeves reveal his tattoos that scatter his arms, leaving no doubt in your mind that it’s Eddie behind the mask. 

“Face the mirror.” He demands. 

You do as he says and turn your body until you’re facing the mirror directly. Eddie takes a few steps until he’s standing behind you, his masked face in view over your shoulder. 

You take in the view; you standing there with your tits out and in just your panties, your bra a mangled mess still wrapped around your torso. Eddie fully clothed and standing behind you with his mask on and hair peeking out from the bottom. Your heart races at the image and you can’t stop your chest from heaving. 

Eddie’s leather-cladded hands land on your waist and you can’t help but jump a little at the coolness. 

He begins pushing you forward, inch by inch until your thighs are flush with the wood of your vanity desk. 

His right-hand splays over your abdomen and your tummy dips at the contact. Slowly he trails it down until his thick leather fingers are pressed over your cotton panties. He pushes against your slit over the material and you feel the warm wetness that has seeped into your underwear press back against you. 

He rubs small soft circles over your clit, making you moan breathlessly and lean back against him. You feel the soft line of his stomach press against your back and his crotch press against the top of your ass. 

“Look at you,” He whispers gruffly into your ear, his masked face pressed to the side of your head, “You’ll let anyone fuck you, won’t you? Anyone could just walk into your house and bend you over and you’d be a moaning whore for it.” 

At that, he slaps your clothed cunt and you moan out like the whore he said you were. 

He chuckles at the sound and slides both his hands up to your breasts grabbing at them harshly. He squeezes at the fat before tweaking and flicking at your nipples, shocks of pleasure shoot through you as he continues to abuse them. 

You’ve absolutely drenched your underwear. If Eddie didn’t have gloves on to feel it himself, you know he would taunt you for how dripping wet you are for him like this.  

Without warning, Eddie grabs at the back of your head with one hand and pushes you forward so you’re bending over the vanity with your face inches from the mirror. You look at the way your breasts hang and sway, nipples ravished and skin now bleeding back to colour from being squeezed. 

Eddie releases your hair and brings his hands down to undo his belt and jeans. He pulls himself out and gives his cock a few lazy tugs, you wonder what it feels like with his gloves on. 

One of his hands comes to land on your throat, making you have to stare right at the scene otherwise you’ll choke against his grip. 

He releases his cock and tugs your panties down to just below your ass before bringing his hand back and guiding himself between your legs. His tip slides through your slick folds and he laughs loudly at how soaked you are. 

“You’re practically dripping, sweetheart. Surprised there isn’t a puddle on the floor.” 

You look at his mask and try to look into the eyes to make eye contact, you push back against his dick, letting it trace up your slit and hit your clit.  

“Please.” You beg. 

“Please she says,” He mocks, “I could do anything I fucking wanted to you and you wouldn’t be able to do shit.” 

Your hole clenches at the thought of Eddie being so in control of the situation, at you being at his absolute mercy. You whimper thinking about it. 

“Y’know what?” He says, pulling at your throat so you have to hold yourself up a little higher to be able to breathe, “You need to earn my cock.” 

You whine and pout your lips at him in the mirror.

He smacks your ass sharply at the protest causing you to jump forward a little and bump your vanity. Bottles of perfume and lotion fall over but you couldn’t care less. 

Eddie’s foot comes up and pushes down your panties till they're at your ankles. He lets go of your throat and your hands quickly come forward to stop yourself face-planting into the mirror. 

With his now free hands he takes off both his gloves and you're disappointed to see none of his rings adorning his stubby thick fingers. He reaches forward to a lotion bottle that’s laying on its side and grabs at it. You watch as he pumps a generous amount onto his palm. Your eyes follow his hands in the mirror, they disappear behind you to his cock and you hear the slick sound of him rubbing some of the lotion on it. You gasp, startled, as he bends down slightly and his slippery hand reaches between you and rubs over your inner thigh before doing the same to the other side, coating your skin in the cool lotion. 

He straightens up and grabs at his cock, tapping it on your ass a little to get your attention. 

You look back up at his masked face. 

“I’m gonna fuck your thighs,” His husky voice says, “and if you’ve earned it, I’ll fuck that sweet hole, yeah?” 

You bite at your lip and nod slightly, agreeing to his terms. 

He stares at you for a second before guiding his cock between your thighs. As you feel his cock head slide against your inner thigh, you instinctively squeeze your legs together for him to create some friction. 

His dick slides between the fat of your thighs slowly, his pelvis hitting your ass. He lets out little groans as he speeds up and you tighten your thighs as much as you can, your knees knocking together. 

“Fucking hell,” Eddie says. 

The hands-on your hips are gripping tight, pulling you with him as he fucks his hips forward. 

He stands a little straighter and the line of his cock slides along your slit making you moan and drop your head between your shoulders. 

“Think you deserve it yet, sweetheart?” He asks. 

The tip of his cock hits your clit and you feel a shiver run through you. “Please.” You whimper. 

“What was that?”  

You lift your head and look at his masked face in the mirror, “Please.” You say louder. 

“So polite.” 

He slaps a hand down against your ass and pulls out fully, straightening up to his full height. His foot toes between your calves and push you to stand your legs apart further. 

His hand comes to your hair and grabs at it, using it to pull you upright. You feel the burn on your scalp and hit the hard line of his body as you stand up. His masked face hides into your neck just below your ear and you feel his cock trapped between your cheeks. 

“Look at yourself.” He whispers. 

Your eyes lock with yourself in the mirror and you take in your form.

As you watch yourself you feel his hand grab at his cock and he slides down your crack until he’s pushing at the entrance of your cunt. 

His knees bend a little to get the angle and he drops his head against your shoulder to look down at his cock disappearing. 

“Jesus.” He whispers to himself. 

He fully pushes into you and your mouth drops open at the pressure and the slight burn of being opened up by his cock. He bottoms out and looks back up at you from over your shoulder. 

You look at his masked face and nod slowly, silently begging for him to move. 

He laughs a little and does short, small thrusts into you. 

You drop your head back a bit on his shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror. 

Your bra hangs around your midsection and your tits bounce slightly as his hips fuck into you a little harder. His hand not in your hair grips at your love handle and pulls you into him. 

He pulls all the way out and pounds up into you, hitting you deep and making you yell out loud. 

“Oh fuck!” You cry, eyes squeezing shut. 

Eddie laughs again and his hand in your hair tugs a little. “Eyes open.” He instructs. 

You open your eyes and instantly land on the jiggle of your body as he fucks his cock into your pussy hard and fast. 

The hand on your hip inches around to your belly and splays over it, trailing down until he’s at the top of your slit near your clit. His thick finger slides between your slit and rubs over your wet nub. You sob out at the pleasure. 

The heat in your core grows and you feel your orgasm creeping up on you. 

The sound of skin hitting skin and the wet squelch of him fucking into your cunt echoes around the room. You hear his heavy breaths from behind his mask and look at him through the mirror. 

“Where do you want my load, baby?” He asks. 

You bite your lip and can barely get the words out as his fingers on your clit begin moving faster. 

“My mouth.” 

Eddie groans at your response. “Fuck yes.”  

You feel your orgasm begin to spill over as he hits your cervix in time with the rubbing of your clit. 

“Oh god, oh god.” You yell as your orgasm overcomes you and you squeeze around his cock. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.” He plays with your clit a little more to milk your orgasm from you as he slows his thrusts to a stop. 

Eddie pulls out of you as you catch your breath and you dazedly turn around and take a step to the side to drop to your knees in front of him. 

You look up at him as he stares down at your masked face, the scary disguise only making your pussy flutter a little bit more. 

He jacks himself off as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. 

“Fuck you’re a goddamn dream.” He says. 

He fucks his fist faster and soon he lets out a muffled groan followed by a stream of hot come that hits your tongue and chin. 

His head is still dropped down looking at you as he drops his cock and catches his breath. 

You swallow the load that lands on your tongue and your hand comes up and your thumb scoops up the rest that landed on your chin before you suck it clean. 

You stand up slowly and come face to face with the mask. You can only guess how fucked out your face looks right now. You reach up and grab at his mask and he lets you pull it off his head. 

His hair flies up with it and sticks everywhere as you drop the mask to your vanity desk. 

He’s smiling dazed as he looks down at you, his face flushed and sweaty. 

“Hi.” He says. 

You smile and lean up on your tippy toes, a hair away from his lips, “Hi.” 

Eddie leans forward and presses a sweet to your lip before pushing his tongue against you to lick into your mouth and taste himself on your tongue. 

“Mmmmmm.” He moans into you before he pulls away. 

His hands are holding your face and pushing your hair back as he stares into your eyes. 

“Happy Halloween.” He says. 

You laugh through your nose and roll your eyes, “Happy Halloween.” 

[captainsimagines]

the albatross || B.B || One-Shot

Summary: "Locked me up in towers, but I'd visit in your dreams. And they tried to warn you about me..."

Pairing(s): Winter Soldier x Vampire Fem! Reader

Trope(s): Unlikely friendship; Forbidden vibes; Awkward tension

Based on the Song: The Albatross by Taylor Swift

Total Word Count: 17,000+

Warnings: This one-shot contains explicit language, an identity crisis, graphic depictions of violence and blood loss, trust issues, cigarette smoking, and depressive thoughts/ideas. You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is purely fanfiction.

If you would rather read this fanfic on AO3, here is the link.

Author's Note: I really liked this idea and surprisingly, it just spilled out of me. The ending is pretty open-ended because I do imagine a part 2, but I won't write it unless there's demand for it. Either way, I love this one-shot. I hope you guys do, too. ---xxMoni

~

The Soldier enjoys watching the stars.

The Captain likes to tell him these stories about Bucky Barnes, about how he also liked watching the stars when they made camp in war-torn France. Bucky Barnes would pretend to know the math behind it all, and though the Captain said the math was a load of bullshit, he swore up and down that Barnes did know how to read palms, however.

The Soldier doesn’t know how to read palms, but he does know how to calculate the stars now.

Hearing about his past self always put him on edge. He has another man’s name, another man’s face, another man’s life story. The Soldier was expected to relearn this, to find that lost part of himself that is “deep down, Buck, I know it.” Sometimes he’d remember that he liked strawberry jam, but only if he tried it out of pure coincidence. Sometimes he’d remember the voice of a man called Gabe Jones, or of Dum-Dum—Dugan—and it reminded him that he was two people at once. Those memories were no longer his—they were—but not really. 

He was not—is not—Bucky Barnes anymore. In his head, at least. 

He knew two things with absolute certainty though, two things the old Bucky Barnes would be happy the Soldier is keeping alive: Steve Rogers is his friend and it is the Soldier’s job to protect him, and that a thousand conversations are said in comfortable silence if you simply listen. 

He passes the cigarette to the woman beside him, blowing the smoke out slowly into the frigid air. He hates the cold, but it’s better than a freezer. Freer up here on the roof of Avengers Tower. A chosen solitary. She takes the cigarette carefully, her grip extra tight since they’re hanging over the ledge. Legs swinging, hair rustling in the wind. Dropping the cigarette would cause no harm, only annoyance. They only bring four of them to their nightly meetings. 

She inhales deeply, her decaying lungs inflating just the bit, her mouth doing most of the work. She doesn’t need to breathe, he’s found. On the rare occasions he is in her presence during the day, she never does. Not even to comfort those around her who watch her warily. He likes that. Placating others was tiresome, and the Soldier had refused to do it for anyone besides the Captain until he asked. For some reason, the crease between his brow makes his stomach turn and he knows Bucky Barnes would hate him for not smoothing it over. 

The Soldier studies the woman at his right. He detects hints of dust—old cardboard, maybe—in the smoke she exhales. Her skin hadn’t paled in the way popular media suspected, nor did her hair turn white. Her skin looks ashy, her cheeks a little gaunt. The only proof she’s undead are the red eyes—he’s never seen her smile to verify the fangs. 

They never exchange words out here. No one knows they’re out here at all. He had come out for fresh air after a particularly nasty fight with Stark a year ago and found her leaning upside down on the ledge. If she had jumped, he doesn’t think he would have leapt after her. He didn’t know her and would not miss her. Let her fall and his world was unmoved. 

A year of nightly cigarettes and no more than a hundred words between them. They had built a sort of camaraderie—after a long day of pretending to be alive, they would sulk in peace together. 

He knows her name, and she his. They have never called each other those names, but he suspects she would call him James before anything else. She doesn’t seem to want to be called anything. She’s content to sit in mutual silence and bask in her invisibility. 

But the Soldier has seen her every night for a year, and everytime she is still solid. Everytime she is still dead. 

The team has forbidden anyone from being alone with her. The Captain has forbidden him from being alone with her. Stark and Banner have a fear of the unknown, and what is unknown is uncontrollable. The Soldier wonders why she was invited to the team in the first place if she was going to be locked away and hidden from the world. He wonders why the Captain even rescued him if he was going to be a red stain as well. She refuses to answer their questions, refuses to show them how she feeds, and refuses to put a single limb in the sun for experimental purposes. The team is not sadistic enough—Stark isn’t sadistic enough—to force her to burn so he can scribble the results in a notepad. So unless she’s willing to be a science experiment, she cannot be trusted. 

Unless the Soldier suddenly remembers the memories of a man lost to time, he cannot be trusted. 

So he watches as her painted lips delicately wrap around the cigarette, their last one, and allows the strange delight to roll over him at the sound of her soft sigh. 

“Goodnight,” she mumbles, her voice resembling the rustling of leaves in the dead of night. She has the same unsettling demeanor as he, perhaps more loose but still as real. The Soldier is meant to unnerve people. If they are terrified of him, they understand the depth of the mission. They will fall in line. As she rises, she grows in stature and dwarfs him. He finds he likes being the second most frightening creature in the room. He likes having a twin, finally, one that is not screaming inside his own head. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, his gaze on the twinkling city lights. Brooklyn winks at him, refusing to fade. 

The Soldier hears the roof door slam shut, and he is suddenly alone.

—————

The team is arguing. 

Stark and the Captain crowd the large room they use for briefings while everyone else sits patiently at the long table. The Soldier occupies the single seat at the far end, the closest person to him being the Widow. She is watching the scene unfold with a stoicism that could rival his own, but she is more susceptible to that twitch in her upper lip. When Stark takes a dig at the Captain’s two-timing morality, she speaks up. 

“You’re both idiots. I don’t see why we have to go empty-handed here, guys.”

Stark does his best to not roll his eyes, opting instead to squint at the Widow. “The mission is childsplay. I just think we’d have a lot more fun and a ton more juicy stories to tell if we bring all of us—”

“The answer is no, Tony. I will not bring—”

“Say it, Cap. I’m sure our cheeky little assassin here would love to hear your reasoning.”

The Captain sighs, his large hands resting atop his slender hips. The Soldier has a vague memory of a group of men around a campfire, all singing a tune in French and sour-tasting liquor spilling from their tongues, and the Captain watching with the same stance but with a grin instead. He realizes fast that this memory is attached to Bucky Barnes, and it is better off dead. 

“Buck, you know I don’t like sending you out when there is no need.”

The Soldier hates team missions. He has no issues with killing—he’s rather good at it. The issue at hand is the lack of privacy, the dependence on one another, and the trust oozing from the Captain. The Soldier isn’t the best friend he so desperately wants, and he doesn’t know how to tell him that. Staying at the Tower is the best course of action in any situation. He frightens more people than he helps, and he would only get in the way. 

He doesn’t respond to the Captain. He remains quiet, his brow furrowed as he looks between the two angry men. 

“It’s a routine inspection, Cap. This would be the perfect opportunity to bring him and the vampire.”

His stomach clenches on itself, though he gives nothing away outwardly. He’s as still as ever, hands softly gripping the handles of the chair. He reminds himself to blink more than five times a minute, and that he needs to move more muscles than just his eyes. He’s too accustomed to being frozen for long periods of time. He is no stranger to perching for hours, to hiding in the shadows. The Captain had told him his lack of movement was uncanny. 

But the mere mention of the vampire—

She had not gone on any missions yet. Her recruitment was more of a trial-run, on the basis that her input about vampires proved to be worthwhile. But it had been a year and Stark and Banner were no closer to studying the intricacies of such creatures. All they knew, or all they assumed, was what they saw from her. And since she was not allowed out of the Tower or on missions yet, they had seen little. 

“What if she goes insane and feeds on a civilian?” the Colonel chimes in, shaking his head as the Captain scoffs at the accusation, “What? You don’t think she’d run given the first opportunity? I’ve told all of you that what you’re doing here is inhumane. Just because she hasn’t seen the sun in who knows how long doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to see a damn bakery or a night-time play. And keeping her locked up will trigger her to hurt someone sooner rather than later.”

The Soldier had never wondered about that. She and him were so alike that he just assumed she was content with her situation. He’d much rather be here than under the tentacles of Hydra. He believed she would much rather be here than in the sewers. 

And it hit him—

How did she feed now?

“JARVIS doesn’t necessarily divulge details, but she’s clean with her victims. Ah, you see that on my scrumptious arms? Goosebumps. I’ve caught her eyeing these veins.”

The Soldier tilts his head, interested. The Widow marks it. 

“She’s well-fed, then,” the Captain says, though the Soldier hears that subtle shake in his voice, “How do we know she won’t escape—”

“You’re acting like she’s our hostage,” the Widow snaps. She immediately casts an apology across the table. “If she escapes, she escapes. The sun will slow her down, and she knows it. You’re all debating this as if she’s tried. She hasn’t. She has caused no trouble so far. You’re all just too scared to send her out into the wild because you haven’t gotten to know her.”

The room silences. The man at the other far end of the table, the one he usually sees with metal wings across his broad shoulders, nods in agreement. At every briefing the Soldier has sat through, Wilson was the only one to ever bring her up in conversation. Small mentions that asked where she was at that very moment, if she had shared her family history yet, if she had fed and if not, was there anything he could do. The Soldier suspects Wilson would offer his own neck if the others agreed to it. 

He doesn’t like talking about her at these meetings. Everyone acts like they have the perfect read on her. They don’t—even he doesn’t. But he does have first-hand knowledge on what the strain of her lungs sounds like, and the exact timbre of her voice. The Soldier knew more than them, and it spoiled him rotten. 

“This is a controlled mission, Cap,” Wilson adds, shrugging. “I think this can be good for her. For Barnes. For you.”

The Soldier loosens a shoulder—the tiresome act of placating—and studies Wilson in the few seconds he’s afforded since the Captain is debating inside his head. Wilson is around his age, give or take a year or two, and he has never spoken ill about him before. He’s heard the Widow and Barton murmuring their distrust about the Soldier in the beginning, but he believes the Captain shut it down. Stark’s jokes were endless, but he finds them humorous sometimes. He is the only person to ever pull a smirk from him. Wilson never spoke bad about anyone. He doesn’t know if he likes that or not. He’s grateful in an odd way, but confused mostly. There are countless things to hate him for. Tender hearts are so easily breakable, and the Soldier finds he does not want to bruise Wilson’s. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” the Captain concedes. “Buck, you up for it?”

A choice. He’s not used to having choices. 

“Okay.”

—————

Clouds block the majority of the stars tonight. 

On nights like these, he focuses on the multi-colored lives of the occupants in surrounding apartments. There are some setting up Autumn colors, others keeping their sleek, modern aesthetic. The Soldier thinks he enjoys a splash of color. He has a habit of draining it all, but he likes it while it lasts. 

The apartments are sporadically lit. Many have retired to bed. There’s a family of four returning and passing around boxes of takeout. A woman sits up in bed and reads a large fantasy novel, her cat resting lazily at the edge of her silk sheets. A teenager adjusts his computer monitor and readies a new level on the game he’s playing, an empty pizza box on his desk. So many lives happening at once—it overwhelms the Soldier. He does nothing all day besides lay in bed and eat and bathe when he has to. He has been wanting to take up knitting—something to do with his hands. Loading and taking apart guns isn’t as enjoyable as it used to be.

“They are going to take you on a mission,” he says, passing the cigarette. Her expression remains impassive. She inhales deeper than usual, his only indication that his statement affected her.

“Oh.”

She’s quick to brush him off. Good. She’s not so easily rattled. “I am going, too,” he adds.

A shrug. She passes the cigarette back. He inhales, an odd flutter in his chest as he wraps his lips around the lipstick-stained stick. 

There’s a bruise on her jawline. Tilting his head, he follows the length of it. It takes him a moment, but he finally recognizes the shape. Five purpling indents, one palm-sized. 

He didn’t even know she could bruise. 

A sudden wave of rage nearly has him marching back into the Tower, ready to interrogate every team member at gunpoint. Their distrust shouldn’t warrant violence. Then the Soldier inhales the toxic smoke again, realizing that his emotions are pointless. The Soldier does not feel, nor does he feel sympathy for others. 

The Soldier questions the validity of that statement.

Still, he ponders who could have possibly injured her. The only ones able to inflict such pressure and not kill are him, the Captain, Stark while suited-up, and the God. But they had no evidence of what strength she could or could not handle—it was entirely plausible that a regular man hurt her. And since she does not leave the Tower, the man could have been one of her meals. 

Her meal fought back.

“How do you eat?” he asks before he can swallow it. He used to be punished for asking questions. 

She turns her head slowly. It’s unsettling to the Soldier, so much so that he averts his eyes. “You know what I eat.”

“I asked how. Not who.”  She blinks at him. “You don’t leave the Tower.”

This is the most they’ve spoken in one sitting. He always assumed she’d be the one to speak first. It seems she assumed the same.

“They bring me my meals.” A quick jump of his brow indicates his surprise. “You didn’t know that.”

He shakes his head. Does the Captain know? The Soldier had heard about interrogations happening at the Tower… Were these the same victims? 

“The bad ones they keep alive. Captives. I get my pick of the litter,” she explains, though her solemn expression betrays the joy in her tone.

“Does it bother you?” he asks. The Soldier doesn’t care—shouldn’t care—and yet, he asks.

“I don’t care.” It seems she’ll not care for the both of them.

He wonders how often she needs to feed. If blood is the only thing she needs to survive. His knowledge of vampire lore comes from a few, mediocre clicks around the internet. Most articles or opinions claim that blood is their life source, but the exact time-stamp vampires can go without it is still a mystery. If she were to go without, willingly or not, would she wither away? Would she simply cease to exist?—How peaceful that sounds, actually. Would it be painless or would she feel every second? The Soldier did not feel time pass when frozen, nor did he comprehend it when allowed to breathe on his own.

“Are you skilled with weapons?” he asks. Invasions of privacy, like the Captain said, were not always welcome naturally. The truth was so much easier to obtain with a gun in hand, harder to earn with a fake smile. What really mattered was having the mission go smoothly. Maybe then the rest of the team will leave him alone and stop trying to make him assimilate. Maybe if the mission went smoothly for her, she’d steal their attention. He would be free. Free to just be.

“I don’t need them, but I have them.”

Irritation is an emotion that encases him fully nowadays. Irritation, agitation, resignation. Her bluntness rivals his, and it's itching at his skin. He liked it before—what is different today? “I am going on this mission, too. I need to know what you are skilled at to ensure the mission is a success.”

She flicks the dead cigarette bud over the ledge, watching as it gradually shrinks from sight. It was their last one. He will bring an extra one tomorrow. 

“There are no stars tonight,” she laments. Her lips twist into a small pout, nearly invisible. She has pretty lips. “Goodnight.”

He waits until she’s gone to frown. The Soldier is confused. 

—————

The team likes to get together Friday nights and watch movies in the common room. Usually the film is chosen to satisfy the Captain’s ignorance. His too, he has found. Though no one but Wilson includes him in that conversation. 

The Captain, Stark, Banner, Wilson, and the Widow are the only ones present tonight. The younger agents are suspiciously absent, but he somewhat remembers Stark mentioning a Friday night outing. Figures, considering the ones in this room are easily recognizable. 

If he were to walk around Times Square, would he cause a panic? The Soldier has been photographed a few times since returning from the shadows and each time the news outlets treat him like an enemy of state. He is, in a sense. There are plenty of things he knows that can crumble governments, but there’s no point in sharing them now. He’s not at war. He’s not under control. But he wonders what it would be like to walk around and enjoy life. To go out with friends, to dance, to go feed some pigeons. He could try—the Captain will definitely go with him—but he doesn’t know how. After so many years of feeling the sour depths of his soul, how is he expected to break through the surface in one day? The urge to be normal gnaws at him, twisting and peeling flesh and muscle, but it is so much easier to just lie in bed. If enough time passes, maybe it will just happen. 

Time was going on, speeding past his memories and lungs. Too fast, so fast he couldn’t grab time’s dangling string to slow it down. He wanted to yank it back, scream at it that he’s trying to remember, and that his new memories are preventing him from finding the ones from before. There’s so much new information that he wanted to, needed to, slow time down. How was he ever able to be Bucky Barnes again if time prevented him?

He likes when the younger ones are around. They’re less judgmental. They actually try to speak with him. Granted, it’s stupid things like: “What was the Great Depression like?” or “Straight up, who was the harder kill? Kennedy or Stalin?” The Captain usually shuts them down, but he can’t help but chuckle from the absurdity of it once he’s alone. 

“Feels weird watching this outside of a seventh grade classroom, but I promise you Steve, it’s a classic,” Wilson says, clapping the Captain on a shoulder. “The Outsiders is a rite of passage, and you my friend have not truly assimilated until you watch it.”

Sitting on a stool rather than the giant couch, the Soldier takes immediate interest in what Wilson claims. If he wants to be normal again, shouldn’t he try with the basics? Watching a movie didn’t seem all that bad. 

He’s distracted by the repetitive popping in the microwave to feel the presence at the doorway. Everyone quiets, and the Soldier straightens. He marks the distance between him and the Widow, and though he’s positive she can protect herself, he debates how he would shield her with his body. 

But there is no weapon pointed at them or enemy breaching the premises—it’s her. 

She burrows deeper into her oversized sweater, the hood covering most of her forehead. She ducks cautiously, eyes squinted as she peeks at the overhead beams. She looks ashier in the artificial light, but no less beautiful. He’s seen her during the day before, but always when she was protected by shadows. 

“Fangs!” Stark cheers, the half-drunk beer bottle in his hand sloshing violently, “We’ve already chosen the movie so don’t bitch about it like Banner always does. Popcorn’s almost finished, and we’ve got wine in the fridge. You like reds or are you like Cap here? Can’t tear a moscato from his cold, dead paws even if you were the strongest person in the world.”

The Soldier gives Stark an incredulous glare, as does the Captain. Offering her food, mentioning cold, dead hands. It gladdens him, however, that though he is the most unpredictable person in the room, he isn’t the stupidest. 

“I personally like reds,” Wilson interjects, casually strolling forward to hit the light switch. She visibly relaxes. “Want me to pour you a glass? We can talk shit about Stark together as he learns how to play the movie.”

Stark mumbles something about how the cheapest technology is often the hardest to understand. Wilson leads her into the kitchen, innocently rambling about wine tours and tasting. The Soldier meets her eyes as she passes. There is simple acknowledgement, but no words. It’s as if they don’t know each other at all. 

He has no claim to that anyway. He shares as much as she does. 

She takes a glass of moscato, curiously. He would have assumed—and that’s just it, isn’t it? He assumed.

The others settle into their spots. She looks around, a peculiar look on her delicate face. Vampires were supposedly ageless, but he sees the age in her eyes, in how she holds up her head. He’s been told that while he wears the mask, his eyes look tortured. Like they’ve seen too much.  

Her eyes held an ancient power, tainted with misery, and yet all he finds himself wondering is what color they were before she changed.

She sits on the lone recliner closest to Wilson, tucking her knees in and leaning her upper body on a pillow. She balances her wine as she adjusts, ignoring the interested stares from the others. 

“I watched this movie when it first came out,” she shares, her voice an elegant whisper. The Captain watches her warily, as does Banner. 

“So did I. You’re not special,” Stark responds, clicking the play button. The Soldier stands, but he doesn’t know what for. To defend her? To add to the harassment? To walk out of the room? 

Her small chuckle surprises him. Surprises all of them. He takes one step forward, then another, until he too is a part of the group. He chooses to sit on the cushion just beside her recliner. If he had a cigarette, it wouldn’t be so different from all the other nights. 

The Captain attempts to ignore him, but ultimately fails. The Soldier senses his relief, his hope.

They watch the movie in comfortable silence, interrupted only by Stark’s or Wilson’s personal additions. He doesn’t mind, though. He likes the movie enough to quell that poisonous irritation. It’s toward the end when he looks at her, when his curiosity gets the best of him. 

There is a sunset on the screen. 

Silver glistens across her waterline. 

Then it’s gone, because nothing gold can stay. 

The Soldier resonates most with a simpler quote. He longs for normalcy, no matter how much he prefers solitude. The voice screaming in his head won’t let him forget it. He repeats the quote several times before the end credits: "I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me."

He used to tell himself that pain was temporary and that being put under would limit it—he always believed that one.

He’s angry that Johnny dies and that Dally kills himself. He’s angry because the Soldier cares about the Captain more than anything and would do the same. He’s angry that he, with his contaminated past and bloodied hands, can still watch the sunset. He’s angry because since she’s dead, she cannot.

—————

“I’m guessing there’s an angle here, Cap. Why else would she make nice now?”

Sometimes Stark made him question the team’s so-called heart. He assumes the Captain had to plead his case, and has continued to do so when the Soldier showed no signs of improvement. She hadn’t put up a fight when they informed her of the mission, nor did she ask any questions. The barest of nods and she was given her orders. He would have liked to be in the room when they discussed this, but he received the automatic manila folder outside his room door. 

Target: Male, 56, Hydra scientist maintaining one of eight remaining Hydra bases in North America. Assumed to be armed and dangerous. No history of super strength, night vision, or combat training. 

And in each folder the Soldier is given his team and his task. Sometimes he’d argue with the logistics considering he knew more than he let on, but this seemed simple enough. He sneers at the use of their code names. 

Soldier Objective: Joined by “Widow” and “Fangs”, retrieve the data on the main computer. Data pertaining to Hydra, Project Insight, Project Paperclip, and NASA is to be handled with care. The Soldier and Widow are cleared for hand-to-hand combat. 

He should have received everyone’s objective. To function as a team, as the Captain so desperately wants, he needs to know each detail. Knowing in advance saves lives, and omitting this now is going to get someone killed. 

As long as that someone isn’t the Captain or Wilson, the Soldier did not care as much as he should. 

Now, while walking through the dimly lit hallway with two women watching his six, he understands why the team made this her first mission. The base was mostly abandoned, there was a limited paper trail that was easy to follow, and it wasn’t too far from New York. A night-time mission usually meant difficult entryways or an ambush. He finds he enjoys the quiet walk and flickering lights, and the small conversation the Widow and the Vampire make. He’s still vigilant and hyper-focused on finding the computer lab, but he allows his mind to knock over one wall. 

The sound of women gossiping and giggling sounded a lot better than the complaints and curses of men. 

“Come on, there’s got to be someone on the team you think is hot.”

The Soldier rolls his eyes at the Widow’s comment. He doesn’t bother looking back. It’s the same thing every single time: the Widow asks the question, the Vampire answers. Neither of them include him, but he doesn’t mind. Though he sits with her every night, he doesn’t actually know much about her. And the short replies the Widow also offers make him feel… appreciative. He’s learning, he’s retaining, he’s—

He shakes his head when he compares this lesson to a filing system, as if the women guarding his back are mere test subjects, or targets. As if the information he’s learning could be used against them. 

It’s hard to rewire your brain, your thoughts. Once something has burrowed deep into each crevice, it’s hard to pull it out. Change is hard, rare, and celebrated once successful. The Soldier’s wiring needs to change if he is to ever learn anything new for the innocent purpose of being human. 

“I think the Captain is good looking,” she answers, huffing a laugh when the Widow hums in agreement. 

“He’s a tough one to crack.”

“But you’ve cracked him.”

The Widow waits for the Soldier to secure the corner before walking forward and punching in a code. He sees her narrow her eyes, a small smirk gracing her pale lips. 

“I am cracking him.”

The Soldier has seen the Captain blush around the Widow, has seen him shield her before others, and has always walked beside her in support. He didn’t think it meant anything—the Captain was kind to everyone. But there is a… tenderness shared between them. Perhaps cultivated over the long months they were searching for him. She and Wilson were the only ones who believed there was a chance they'd even find him.

“He likes you. His heart pumps quicker when you’re around.”

It should bother him that she’s exposing the Captain’s feelings. But the Captain deserves an intimate form of companionship, something to take his mind off the fact that the Soldier has no problem drowning in solitude.

“You can hear our blood?”

“Only when I concentrate.”

The Soldier lifts a hand to stop them. There’s a soft rustling behind the door they are meant to enter. Drawers being opened. If it is indeed their target, then Wilson and the Captain are running around for nothing. His unit wasn’t supposed to engage in any arrests—he has half a mind to just bring the Widow along. 

He splits them up. The Widow remains with him. He’ll confront the target as she works the computers. He turns to give the last order, but is softly interrupted. 

“There’s a back door just around the corner. I can pick it and blend into the shadows.”

The Soldier thinks about it, then nods. “Do not engage unless I order it.”

A misty rogue. Stark is insane—she could be useful on more daunting missions.

Armed with two shortswords, one gold and one ruby, she pulls on the hood of her cloak and gives them a small smile. A smile that said she’d follow his directions and remain hidden forever, if needed.

He and the Widow work in tandem, noiselessly picking the lock and creeping into the room. With her red hair pulled up, she shimmies along the wall quickly, heading for the largest of the six monitors. The only light comes from the handheld flashlight their target uses to read loose papers. His frantic eyes search for something along the black, redacted text. The Soldier simply struts forward, his mask doing most of the intimidation, his boots announcing his arrival. Their target clutches a file close to his chest as he retreats. Off to the side, the Soldier vaguely sees the back door open and close. 

“I’m unarmed,” their target squeals, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

What ridiculous lies, he thinks. Hydra did not apologize, nor did they beg for ceasefires. They trained him to ignore such pleas, such excuses. And by the way the Soldier grips him by the neck to lift him, he was trained well. 

“When I let you go,” the Soldier says, his voice a deadly timbre, “give me the weapon you have at your back.”

The target struggles, his gurgling embarrassingly loud. A monitor brightens, and the Widow waves as she gets to work. The target, once recognizing her, loses most of his hope. He is dropped and the weapon clatters to the floor. The Soldier does not retrieve it—it is yanked into the shadows. 

“We thought you were dead,” he says, panicked eyes never leaving the mask. No one ever wanted to look him in the eyes. No one ever wanted to hear him speak. 

“I’m going to reach into your coat and grab that file. Make a move and I will break the first bone I come into contact with.”

“Mm,” the Widow hums, her downloads beeping one-by-one as they finish, “Steve frowns on that if they surrender willingly.”

“Complete the download,” he orders. He doesn’t like when the Widow rambles during these missions. The more he grows to enjoy her company, the more distracted he’s destined to get. The more he avoids interaction, the more efficient he’ll be. 

And lonely—

“It’s done,” she says, rolling her eyes. She stands at his side, arms crossed. “Just sedate him already so we can get out of this rusty hellhole—”

He turns to look at her. One quick glance at the red menace. That’s all it takes. 

The target draws a knife and whips it wildly, slashing the Widow across her neck. It’s unlike her to be so ill-prepared. The Soldier doesn’t know whether to press his palm across her neck or kill the target. This has never happened before. The team is going to question his capabilities, his true alliances, his reflexes, his empathy—

The target yelps in agony. The decision is made for the Soldier. 

He has no choice but to bend his neck to the hunter behind him, holding him close and ripping through his carotid. The Widow curses and holds her wound, her steady voice settling the awful worry in the pit of his stomach. 

Worry… For his team. He would smile if the situation wasn’t so chaotic.

The spray of blood is mostly contained. Her fangs dig so deep that blood seeping from the puncture is caught by her lips. Her lipstick stains his pale neck, paler now as she consumes him whole. Barely concealed by the shadows, she hungrily drinks without remorse. Payback. Her red eyes glow brighter than he’s ever seen them, black veins crawl and stretch from the corners, and he swears there’s smoke surrounding her strong body. Like a bad omen, a demon emerging from the depths of gloom itself.

He falls limp in her arms, his dead eyes blindly watching the Soldier as she drops him to the floor. His eyes were once blue. They’re white now.

“Are you okay?” she asks the Widow, standing somehow taller, solid. 

The Widow looks at her drenched hand and nods slowly. “I’m not opposed to one of you carrying me back.” The wound is superficial, but no less alarming. He picks her up and holds her close, signaling to his newly nourished partner. She gets the hint. Hauling the dead man over a shoulder, she waits for him to lead the way. 

Barton takes the Widow from his arms, his laughs overlapping her own. The Captain checks on her before marching over to him and the woman with dried blood on her neck, who then drops the target at the Captain’s feet.

“What the hell happened?” Anger. It’s an emotion so rare for the Captain. At least, it’s rare to the Soldier. 

“Concealed knife. I didn’t check him thoroughly,” he answers, his explanation true enough. He should have known even Hydra scientists kept an extra weapon on their person at all times, especially small ones. He just didn’t think the Widow would get nicked so easily—that she didn’t see that coming at all. 

“But why is he dead?”

She raises her reddened chin at him to boldly say, “He attacked. The downloads were complete. We weren’t even supposed to run into him. That was your job.”

It’s obvious the Captain wasn’t expecting her response. Immediately his face loosens and his shoulders do that guilty-drop the Soldier sees often. “You’re right. Your team wasn’t supposed to encounter him at all. It’s a mistake on my end.”

“Not that we didn’t have muscle to defend ourselves,” she lightly jokes, then kicks the pale body on the floor. 

“We’re going to have to report this.”

“Do what you must.”

“And—” the Captain strains, looking to the Soldier for assistance. But he knows what he’s about to say, and gears up to fight it. “And because this is an on-duty death, you need to go to psych.”

“Don’t send her there,” the Soldier cuts in, his stomach dropping. “Say I killed him. Just don’t send her there.”

“That’s not how this works, Buck.”

“Psych is a glorified therapy session that fails to help even the lowest of street cops. It’s judgment, not help.”

“I can’t override it.”

The Soldier sighs, argument after argument swirling in the mess of his mind. The times he went to psych were all the same. Constructed in a way that made him feel like killing was always the wrong choice. Neglecting that now, he has the choice. Sometimes he’ll claim a stray bullet, but the majority of his kills are necessary. They are strategic. They are his own. 

“It’s fine,” she says, tilting her head at her kill. “Not the first time I’ve been evaluated.”

“Psych can be bypassed if the kill was a team-effort. I’ll see if I can get Fury to sign off on it.”

She shakes her head at the Captain. “You wanted to know more about my life, yes? I’m assuming these things aren’t confidential to you or Stark… But when you do go talking about me to the others, make sure to mention that I drained him dry.”

—————

"Do you hate me for it?"

The Soldier offers an unimpressed look. He hands her the cigarette and blows out the smoke burning his throat. “Funny.”

There’s a quirk at her lip. She takes a longer drag than usual, trying to mask it.

“They all hated me for it back then.”

“Who?”

“Family. Friends. Enemies. Lovers.”

“And you cared what they thought?”

She shrugs, stealing a second drag. “At the time.”

Her lipstick is a brownish-maroon today, and he finds himself studying the tint before bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. He doesn’t share anything nowadays besides cigarettes and a living room. The Captain offers him food, money, advice—the Soldier takes but never gives. 

Her face contorts slightly, her jaw ticking. Such extravagant movements for the simple outcome of showing her four canines. The points extend maybe half a centimeter longer than the rest of her teeth. Because of her minimal overbite, the teeth slide perfectly against one another. She runs her tongue over the top two.

He wonders how his victims would have reacted if they got to see the lower half of his face. There would have been no smile accompanying the kills. He had growled from frustration, to incite fear. Teeth weren’t necessarily frightening. They’re a barrier to words, the shield for tongues, the blades against intruders. Her teeth were her life-force, the blades needed to let those intruders in. 

“How was your evaluation?”

A small snort. He looks at her—her ancient grace, the absence of grays at her roots, her glaring red eyes. 

“They kept asking if the smell of Natasha’s blood affected me.”

“Judging by your nonchalance, I’d say you went completely feral over it.”

Another quirk at her lip. He likes the movement. 

“You believe that I wouldn’t attack any one of you. Thanks.”

He does. She hasn’t attacked him up here, hasn’t attacked anyone on the team, and has never tried to escape to wreak havoc on the city. He doesn’t tell her he does, but she feels it somehow. Her shoulders loosen.

The tension slowly dissipates from his body as well—a revelation both amazing and concerning. The Soldier should never have his guard down. He should always be prepared for a fight.

“The ones they bring me are always so happy to be led to their deaths,” she says, a small frown quickly forming then disappearing. “Sometimes I wait until they’re asleep. Or when they’re facing the other way. Sometimes I drain them when they’re inside of me.”

He blinks. “You have sex with them?”

“I never leave the Tower. I can’t leave. I’ve been living alone for so long that I don’t even think I can go into the real world and bring someone home. Would you know how?”

He doesn’t need to think about such a ridiculous possibility. He can’t even find it within himself to give Wilson a matching pat-on-the-back. “No.”

She gives a small nod. Absent of pity, filled with strange empathy. “I tell them they’re going to die. I ask them how they would like to go. They choose that most of the time.” She chuckles, “I only offer it to the cute ones.”

“They’re bad people, though.”

“They’re dying anyway. Might as well die feeding me.”

He doesn’t remember it, but the Soldier considers sex—or pleasure, really—to be too much of a gift. The people they capture and keep to interrogate are scum of the Earth, his tormentors. She’s rewarding his villains. 

Anger floods his chest, violent and nasty. She snatches the cigarette from his rigid fingers. 

He could push her off the ledge. No one will miss her. He will. She’ll probably survive the tremendous fall. She’ll continue the cycle. She can’t leave the Tower. He can’t leave the Tower. 

“I don’t have to sleep with them,” she says, her voice so quiet he wouldn’t be able to hear without his advancements. “But when I do, they taste a little sweeter. I haven’t had sweets in so long… Not since my birthday. Did you know I died on my birthday? My mom bought me chocolate instead of donating those five cents to the war effort. I wasn’t a child anymore but she never forgot my birthday… So, I can make it through ten minutes of boring sex. And when it’s done, for a blessed moment, I remember the taste of sugar and my mom’s smile when I broke the bar in two so we could share.”

For the first time in a long time, the Soldier is speechless. Because he sympathizes… A once frozen emotion thawed by the mention of chocolate and a mother. He tries and fails to remember his own mother’s face. After so many years of only being able to see his eyes, he prays they matched hers. After so many years of being force-fed genetically-modified trash, he has forgotten the taste of chocolate.

His anger is replaced by a solemn peculiarity that itches along his insides. He is aware of his loss, her loss, the logic in her kills. She feeds blindly in the hopes of feeling whole again. Has he done anything to feel whole again besides bury the screams lower and lower? 

“I was feral today because we were never supposed to come into contact with the target and he almost hurt you. He managed to hurt Natasha. I did what I had to do.”

And she was being punished for it. 

“He tasted disgusting, by the way.”

The Soldier, honest to God, laughs. Not expecting it, her shoulders tense and she jumps a little. He shoots his flesh hand out to hold her still, gripping her thigh as she pulls her gaze back up. Instinct—he does not want her to fall after all. 

“Sorry,” he says, surprising himself. Then, as he allows a tendril of Bucky Barnes to escape through the walls he had forged from steel, he jokes, “I’m still stuck on the fact that when you fuck, you think of your mother’s face.”

His ill-timed vulgarity is rewarded with a sudden cackle of her own, a vicious and underutilized sound that pulls her lips back and showcases all four sharp canines in their primal glory. Crinkles by her eyes, she sits with the aftershocks of it.

He gives her the first drag of their last cigarette.

—————

He had been exiting the Tower with Wilson when it started.

Three large booms above had them ducking for cover. Debris slammed into the concrete and damaged parked cars while burnt furniture landed in odd angles after barely missing pedestrians. Smoke clouded their aerial view—there was no way Wilson was going to be able to fly through the black cloud blind. It was up to Stark and the Colonel to fly directly from the roof. 

“Cap, what the hell was that?” Wilson yelled into his phone. He directed the floor staff away from the building and into the cafe next door. The Soldier analyzed each person, their expressions, the things in their hands. The smoke blocked his view of the lower rooftops. No one tried storming the bottom floor. There were no planes or helicopters around, and the glass had shattered outwards. 

The threat was internal. 

“It seems one of our captives managed to plant explosives before—” The Captain stops, his voice heavy with exertion. “JARVIS doesn’t think we’ve been compromised or that there are any intruders. Just good ol’ fashion bombs.”

“We’ll get everyone down here to safety. You guys handle the top,” Wilson says, wiping a nervous hand over his head. 

“Ask him which type of captive it was,” the Soldier tells him, failing to keep his rising panic leveled. Wilson’s bewilderment is marked in his brow, but he asks anyway. 

“He doesn’t understand the question—”

“Was it one of the captives we sent back to the police or was it one we sent to be fed on?”

Wilson waits for the Captain to clarify, still not understanding the danger of the situation. “Fed on.”

The Soldier sprints back into the Tower and clicks the elevator button, cursing when the lights flicker out. Stark and the Colonel were busy flying people out, the Widow and the Captain were securing the floor, Banner was putting out the fire with the young ones, and the God was probably doing all three things. Though all honorable, they were also clueless. Because if the explosion had happened on her floor, there was no floor left. No walls. No tinted glass. And though there was black smoke clogging everyone’s nostrils and burning everyone’s vision, the sun was still shining. 

“Come outside again and bend your knees,” someone orders from behind him. The Witch tilts her red head at him, a regal seriousness twinkling in her eyes. He does as she says. She contorts her glowing hands, and he is lifted through the thick cloud and past several dozen floors before landing on the seventy-seventh.  

Flames nip at his exposed arms, but the burn is nothing compared to the strain on his lungs. He limits his deep gulps and barrels through turned furniture and glass. Screams come from further down the collapsed hall, but he hears Banner amongst them.

“Rogers!” he yells, swiping at exposed wires hanging in his way. Electricity shoots up his metal arm, momentarily paralyzing it. He holds his breath and waits for the upgraded vibranium to reboot. 

“Bucky! Over here!”

“Did you find her?” he asks when he reaches the Captain, dodging Tower employees on their way to the Colonel a few feet away. The Colonel flies three down at once, his return time averaging ten seconds. At this rate, ten more trips and the entire floor should be evacuated. 

“I can’t see anything past this damn smoke!” the Captain explains, coughing loudly as he brushes stray ash off the Soldier’s singed shoulder. He allows the touch, feeling gratitude rather than his usual discomfort. “She’d be knocked out by now. This smoke is killing me.”

He shakes his head. “She doesn’t have to breathe. The smoke isn’t the issue. If I was her, I would hop from shadow to shadow, but she can’t even see those. One wrong move and she could step directly into the sunlight.”

“She doesn’t have to breathe?” he asks. Fascination paints the Captain’s face before he switches again. “What do you suggest?”

“Don’t ask why I know, but I know you and I can hold our breaths for at least three minutes before we need air.”

Hydra loved their experiments. The Soldier is grateful he doesn’t have to do this underwater. 

“Then I’m right behind you, Barnes.”

They stalk through the heavy smoke carefully, using the collars of their t-shirts to wipe the burn at their eyes and to inhale deeply after the first three minutes. There is no sign of their resident vampire, only debris and some of Stark’s failed experiments. The floor above had also fallen, but the steel beams were still intact. No one lived above or below her, but that didn’t mean Stark hadn’t splurged on unnecessary furniture and decorations. Each step they took was a cautious one. Only the Soldier could push and pull burning wood and fabric out of their path without risk of burns, and the shield covered their heads as glass fell through the floor above. It would take Stark approximately a week to repair this, but for now the Soldier thanks whatever entity listening that the damage wasn’t catastrophic. 

He had just started to call this place a home. The only place where he was afforded solitude. Choice. 

Having it burned to the ground should have sent him on a spiral, a thought that irritated him more than scared him. He doesn’t like starting over from scratch. It was hard enough to do the first time without a base. But all the thoughts occupying his head right now are about her, how this is her home too, and that she needed his help.

“Buck! Over here!” 

The Captain tries lifting the large stone of concrete blocking the small sanctuary she’s hidden in, but it’s no use. The surrounding glass and heated metal are pinching and burning his palms. She does not scream for help, nor does she alert them of her location. She’s eerily quiet. 

He looks around, then down at his own body. He’s wearing black, and the Captain is wearing white. They have to be quick.

“Move!” he tells him. In sync, the Soldier slides his metal arm beneath the concrete and lifts—the Captain reads his mind verbatim, stripping himself of his shirt and preparing to wrap her upper half. She screams in agony, the sound scraping along the walls of his matted skull. The Captain barrels into the small crevice, shielding her with his body. 

“We’ve got you,” the Captain says gently, coughing off to the side. The Soldier can’t see her, but he trusts the Captain’s calm reaction. 

“Go!” he yells, the concrete slab pulling at his shoulder. Ten more seconds and he’s going down with it. 

The Captain picks her up and runs in the direction they came from, the Soldier following. He can’t see her face, but he can see her arms. What looks like silver rashes blister and boil as they hang in full view of the sunlight. 

He catches up to them, adds to their shield, and dares to hold her limp hand in his.

—————

She doesn’t go to the roof the next four nights. He does not smoke without her, but he brings a pack just in case.

The Soldier sits on the ledge, scarily desperate to be spoken to, alone with his own damning thoughts.

—————

He sneaks into the Captain’s snack cupboard in the middle of the night. There are chips of all sorts and flavors, packaged noodles, and packets of sauces from various restaurants. The chocolate is in a box of its own, three or four bars already missing. It’s one of those famous brands, popular during his time and still. With a final glance down the quiet hall, he steals a bar and closes the cupboard.

The silky wrapping is familiar to both his metal and flesh hand. He has eaten this candy before. A lifetime ago. Another person ago.

He peels the wrapping and breaks off a single rectangular piece. Crisp and clean. He slides his flesh fingertips together, smoothing the chocolate into his skin. The smell is overwhelmingly intriguing, so much so that his mouth waters. 

He bites the warmed chocolate, swishing it around his tongue. Vanilla, caramelized sugar—the creamy texture suits the sweetness, the aroma of cocoa soothing the tension at the base of his neck. He takes another small bite, and this time he has a vision of a woman’s face, older by maybe a year or two. The same eyes, hair color, and top lip as him.

Bucky Barnes had a sister. He had a sister. She liked chocolate. He bought her a bar with his first paycheck. He remembers something other than bloodshed and angry voices. He remembers his sister’s eyes and the fact he was a working man when it counted the most. He wipes at his wet eyes with the back of his metal hand, wincing from the scratch. 

“I had the same reaction when I tried chocolate again after I woke up.”

The Soldier doesn’t move a muscle. He watches the Captain approach the counter with a good-natured smirk. He holds his hand out, waiting. The Soldier hesitates—and it hits him then that he wouldn’t be able to share the chocolate with her anyways—but he breaks a piece for the Captain. Whether it’s because his whole opinion on the Captain has changed after he protected her with his own body, or because the Soldier wants to take one cautious step forward on the path to healing, so be it. He doesn’t make a fuss about the sharing, just brings the chocolate to his mouth and enjoys the piece just as the Soldier did. 

“Dernier used to rant about how French chocolate was elite,” the Captain chuckles. He lifts himself onto the counter. His sleep attire consists of gray sweatpants and those tight, white t-shirts the Widow buys him. As he rakes his eyes further, the Soldier nearly cackles from the sight of the Captain’s black and yellow socks depicting small, alien-like cartoons with goggles and overalls. 

Steve Rogers used to sleep in socks all the time. The Captain does the same. 

“Did we ever eat chocolate during our time on the front line?” he asks. The Soldier uses the roof of his mouth to somehow spread the flavors. 

“They sent us some packaged kits but it wasn’t the same. This chocolate is made from cooked milk, not powdered. We didn’t complain, though. It was nice to taste something from home, even if it didn’t exactly match Ma’s baking. But Falsworth found some real chocolate in a bombed bakery right outside of Poznań—”

“It was Morita.”

The Captain blinks. “What?”

“Falsworth pointed out the bakery, but Morita was the only one with big enough balls to actually go in there and bring us back the sweets. He grabbed some flour and sugar bags, too.”

The Captain chews his piece slowly, his gaze never leaving the Soldier’s. Fascination, sorrow, elation—all of it fighting to overtake one face. He doesn’t like that he can’t pinpoint the exact emotion attacking the Captain, or that they don’t match the four primary ones. 

“Yeah, Buck. You’re right. It was Morita.”

That screaming voice in his head quiets now, opting for a more subtle cheering. Pride, he realizes. 

The Soldier shares the rest of the chocolate bar with the Captain, and then another, all while they reminisce about the Howling Commandos. It’s equal parts warped memories and clear ones. But that doesn’t matter, because what he doesn’t remember the Captain clarifies, and vice versa.  

—————

A week after the attack, the Soldier is the first one to arrive on the roof, cigarette box in hand. He has gone every night, and every night he has sat alone. The absence of the undead shadow he’s come to expect is odd, almost as if his presence alone unsettled the unnatural balance of things. Death was natural, but she defied it.

This felt too normal. 

The roof door opens. He hasn’t opened the new pack yet. She takes small steps to the ledge, wincing slightly as she swings her right leg over. He watches her and says nothing—the team doesn’t speak about their injuries unless they’re serious, and she doesn’t speak to anyone at all. 

He’s never asked her about her relationship with the others. He only knows how she is with him. It feels unbalanced somehow. She knows more about his character now than anyone else, besides the Captain, because he doesn’t speak with anyone else. He doesn’t know what she does with the other twenty-one hours of her day. He feels he’s allowed to ask considering just how vulnerable he’s seen her. A small part of him feels like that’s taking advantage. 

“You could have started without me,” she says, the low timbre of her voice still strong enough to raise the hair on his arms. Not even the upcoming seasonal chill has succeeded in that. He doesn’t get cold often. Unless he’s dreaming. 

“They don’t taste the same if I do.”

It’s bold, what he says. She’ll think he means a cigarette is best shared with a friend and conversation. He won’t tell her the two reasons he smokes at all: It elicits a soothing, guttural response that sends him back to midnight campfires serenaded by distant stories of home, and because he’s come to enjoy the taste of red, of brown, of pink, inked at the white base. 

She hums lightly and finally swings her left leg over. Again the movement seems to hurt her. He notices her skin is ashier, cracking where her laugh lines would be, and her red eyes emit a soft glow. Her lips are nearly white and her hair refuses to hold in any natural moisture. She’s drying up, and yet she takes the cigarette he offers and inhales until decayed lungs inflate. 

“You look terrible.” The trapped voice within him curses at him relentlessly, probably begging to be sent to the front lines to take over this battle for him. Flirting was Bucky Barnes’ thing, not the Soldier's. Then again, the Soldier doesn’t think he’s trying to flirt. But he doesn’t want to dismiss her either. 

“Yeah, that happens when I go a few days without eating.”

“They’re not bringing you food?”

“They’re repairing my floor. Their minds are elsewhere.”

“But… You look terrible.”

He shuts himself up by taking a long puff, avoiding her amused gaze. He’s not trying to be funny, but it does make him feel a little better to know she isn’t taking his careless words seriously. 

“I haven’t left the guest room. The windows on your floor aren’t made for my condition.”

How could the team, how could he, be so clueless? He should have checked on her when she didn’t come the first night. Should have knocked on her door and checked if she had enough damn pillows. Banner should have visited and taken the opportunity to ask those subtle but obvious questions. 

“How long can you go without?”

“Forever. I won't die from it.”

“But how long before it hurts?”

The question surprises her. She takes the cigarette from his fingers cautiously, as if the question was tied to a physical one. He’s aware that she’s physically weak, vulnerable, open to prodding—completely exposed. 

She thinks for a moment before saying, her shoulders hunched and eyes glowing softly, “It hurts right now.”

He does not think before saying, as he snatches the smoke back and gets a little lost in the brown lip stain he can now taste wholly, “What would happen if you drank from me?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. Both curiosity and outright distaste floods her once calm expression. He should be offended by that, but instead he waits. Strangely… excited for her answer. 

“I’ve never had a true, willing victim before.”

“Don’t call me a victim.”

“I’ve never had a true, willing supper-plate before.”

“Better.”

 She huffs a short laugh. “As hungry as I am, drinking from you would be a poor decision.”

Because of the serum, because of the bite marks, because they barely know one another—the reasons are endless, really. But the Soldier wants to help, and wanting is rare. 

“Do you have to kill?”

“No.”

“Will it leave a mark?”

“A little one.”

“How much do you need?”

“As much as the typical person would donate.”

“Have you ever gotten sick from someone’s blood?”

She takes a long drag, contemplative. “Once.”

He realizes that for the first time in a long time he knows more about the science portion of things, rather than the brutal aspects, before Banner and Stark. Not even psych got these specifics. He is truly two steps ahead, and something like… greed, envelops him. A peculiar type of greed—a fanatical smugness at the fact that he of all people has taken the time to learn something the others have given up prying for. 

The Soldier, for once, is being considerate. Elation pools in his empty stomach because of her hesitation—because she is considering his well-being. 

He nods, his decision final. “Drink from me.”

“Quite possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

“You’re killing yourself because you won’t ask for help.”

“Asking for help,” she drawls sarcastically, frowning. She flicks the dud into the aerial abyss and reaches for their second cigarette of the night. “Have you asked for it?”

He lights the end for her. “I don’t need help.”

“You’re just as isolated as I am. According to Natasha, we’re unhealthy.”

“My seams aren’t unraveling as we speak.” Even as he says it, he knows she’ll counter it.

“That’s the difference. You can see mine. Your seams are in here,” she explains, pointing at her own temple. “I’ve accepted my death a long time ago.”

His brow draws together. “If that were true, you would stay here until the sun came up.”

Shaking her head, she blows the smoke out in two short spurts. “Mostly everything about being human is dead to me. My heart no longer beats. If I don’t mask it with perfume, you’ll start smelling rotting meat. I sleep, maybe, ten days of the year. Wine is the only human thing I can consume without vomiting. I am a dying paradox, forced to pretend. But my mind is my own, and though my heart is frozen, it’s still there. I may be dead, but I don’t want to die.”

The Soldier wakes each morning, his mind finally his own, his heart somehow intact. He has a team who tries to support him, a friend who would destroy the world for the memory of him, and a vampire companion he has never thanked for simply being there. His heart beats the same as it did in 1945, he sleeps a full night through one-hundred days of the year, and he hasn’t drank wine since moving into the Tower. He is living, and yet he has no life. He is forced to pretend to be Bucky Barnes, forced to automate the husk of a living paradox. They tried to kill the human part of him, and when they partially succeeded, he wanted to die along with it. His memory is dead, slowly reviving, and he doesn’t want to die now. 

He makes an apathetic noise, unwilling to reveal just how much her vulnerability burrowed into his own. “The offer is still on the table.”

The cigarette is halved. 

“It’ll hurt a little bit.”

“As long as you don’t kill me.”

She considers once more, even studying his neck as she does. The Soldier has been at the will of others before, but this is different. He chose this.

“Then get comfortable. I don’t want you falling over.”

Their feet hit the roof at the same time. It’s the first time he notices how much taller he is. The second cigarette is flicked away, the third—for now—stays in the pack. She dusts the back of her sweatpants off, cleaning her arms next. She’s nervous, he realizes. That funny smugness comes back, stronger than before. 

“Take as much as you need,” he offers, his smirk widening when she rolls her eyes. She crosses her arms and inspects him head to toe, a smirk of her own to match his. It’s suddenly intimate. Her eyes glimmer and shine so bright he no longer wants to lift his head to see the natural wonders—the two brilliant rubies taking him apart piece by piece are the most unnatural wonders in the world. What does he look like to her? Is there a scarlet glow outlining his body? Can she see the way his index and thumb tap together, the only physical sign of nerves he’ll show anyone. Can she hear his steady heartbeat, trained to combat adrenaline, and through the ruse can she see how desperately Bucky Barnes is banging on the walls to escape? Not to oppose the incoming bite, but to be the one to feel a woman’s mouth on him again. The Soldier apologizes to him, promises that it isn’t anything sexual, and whispers that he’ll break him out soon. Little by little, he’ll help pull the dead man inside of him to the surface. 

“Tilt your head for me,” she gently instructs. She swallows hard. He does as he’s told. 

Slowly, she creeps forward. Close enough that he should feel her hot breath, but there’s nothing at all. Her cold palms rest on his cheeks, scratching against his stubble, the pads of her thumbs near the corners of his parted mouth. Boldly, she traces a hand down his angled neck—pauses—then hooks his hair behind his ear. The Soldier involuntarily shivers, but he does not reprimand himself. 

“Ready,” she murmurs, excitement glimmering in the swirl of crimson. Are his gray ones just as potent?

“As I’ll ever be.”

Just as they did back at the Hydra base, the skin around her eyes deepens in color, black veins extending far down her cheeks. Her fangs, once hidden by her tempting lips, nudge his neck. Four needle points, though the two on top are the first to puncture him. He hisses softly but quickly relaxes into her strong hold, their chests pressed together. Before he can encourage her, she bites down. 

It’s… 

Otherworldly. Bizarre. Erotic. 

She moans as she drinks, and he—matches it. 

One hand delicately holds the other side of his neck, the other trailing to his waist. He can’t trust that she knows exactly what she’s doing, lost in her bloodlust, so he tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore the serum rushing to heal his wound and the once dormant, primal reaction of his blood rushing south. But she drinks plenty, greedily, and he’ll offer her more still. 

She detaches herself, licking at the injury. He shuts his eyes and suppresses a groan. She takes this reaction as pain, however. 

“Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head. “Was that enough?”

“Can you handle a little more?” He nods, and she punctures him again. 

He gets lightheaded the longer she drinks, but it’s worth it. Her skin is returning to its natural shade, her eyes are dimming, her lips are moistening. Even her grip feels stronger. Unlike the last time, there is no smoke circling them. She is simply feeding, visible to the elements. Visible to him. 

And apparently, visible to their first ever trespassers. 

“Three seconds, Fangs! One, two—”

The Soldier throws a knife backward just as she removes her bloodied teeth, landing a perfect stab in one of the crevices in Stark’s suit. The Colonel sneaks up behind her and hauls her up into the air. Stark flies behind him, holding his arms to his sides. 

“I always knew you were into some kinky shit, Sergeant. But unsupervised? BDSM one-oh-one, make sure your partner can be trusted.”

“Let me go,” he warns. Then, deeper and more brutal, “Let her go.”

Stark scoffs, but lets him go anyway. “She was just eating you. I think your sympathies are leaning toward the Axis—”

“She wasn’t hurting me! I let her feed because you bastards haven’t fed her in days!”

Stark and the Colonel pause, their eyes meeting. The latter seems more surprised. “Shit, Tony. Is that true?”

“Hold on, hold on, back up. Let me think about this.”

The Colonel interjects, his brow rising. “What’s there to think about? Did you feed her or not? Did you let her starve?”

“I’m not in charge of it!” Stark makes a small hand motion to tell the Colonel to let her down. The second her feet hit the roof, she’s wiping his blood from her jaw. He wants to tell her not to. It was her claim, her right. She need not be ashamed for simply surviving. “But I can see where our wires have gotten crossed,” Stark concedes.

The Soldier leaves his neck as is. Blood slowly trickles to his collarbones and into his t-shirt. Stark follows it, the slightest twinge of curiosity flashing across his bearded face. 

The Soldier steps closer to him, his gaze enough to unravel even the strongest of men. “How can you forget one of your own?”

Still, Stark persists, his self-assurance unrelenting. “If you haven’t noticed, Barnes—You two are the most reclusive, secretive, stone-faced people on this team. I avert my eyes whenever one of you even enters the room.”

“I didn’t hurt him.”

They all turn to her. He hates how small her voice sounds, how modest she makes herself. To defend herself. 

“Yeah, we see that,” Stark says, rubbing his temples. “Don’t know why we bothered. If he wanted you dead, I’d suspect you’d be… deader.” 

“Then leave,” the Soldier grinds out.

“Barnes—” the Colonel sighs. He extracts himself from his suit, the silver absorbing the moonlight. “We just caught her feeding from you.”

“With permission.”

Stark mumbles, “Glad to know the Winter Soldier is all about consent—”

“We need to report this. She’s never… She’s never done that before,” the Colonel decides, though his expression tells him he’s in battle with his own words. “And if it’s because we’ve made her recruitment mirror captivity, then we need to re-evaluate the ethics, Tony.”

“For now, no one is allowed on the roof.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s fine,” she says, straightening her shoulders. “I put you in danger and they saw what they saw. If I want to be a part of the team, they need to know everything, right?”

The Colonel steps back into his suit, the closure of his mask unsettling something within the Soldier. Masks function as detachment, as a lie. He knows the man underneath, but he is forced to make peace with the myth. 

“Meet us bright and early in the lab,” Stark orders her, masking himself as well. He motions for her to follow.

Before the door shuts, she looks over her shoulder. No mask in sight. 

“Smells like cigarettes up here,” Stark mutters, coughing dramatically.

—————

She is restricted to the lab for the next two days and ordered to complete another round of psych. No matter how often he threatens to put a knife in Stark’s neck, he doesn’t budge. The Captain swears that no invasive procedures are taking place, that he is present for any and all questions Stark and Banner are throwing at her. He says she is cooperating, even telling them how and how often she needs to feed in order to be effective in battle. They find that the serum did not affect her at all.

But when he sees her at the end of her imprisonment, her red irises no longer hold an excited or even tame glow. They are void. 

They remind him of his own. 

And he is terrified.

—————

He awakens with a jolt, immediately pulling the gun from underneath his pillow and aiming at the intruder with sleepy eyes but steady hands. The shadows do little to conceal her, especially with the slight glow from her eyes and the fact that the moon shines upon her. She’s forgone her usual black clothing tonight, and instead dons pink—a cotton two-piece night set. Slight collar on the shirt, shorts for bottoms. Pockets. If he didn’t recognize her shadow like his very own, he’d wonder who exactly was standing at the edge of his bed, watching him sleep. 

“Shoot me. I want to see what happens.”

He lowers the weapon, glaring at her playfully. “Funny.”

“Never been shot before. Curiosity kills me daily.”

“Can you bleed out?”

“I can bleed. But no, I can’t bleed out.”

“Is it your blood?”

“No. It’s the blood I consume. I use it for energy.”

“What are you doing in my room?”

She smirks, shrugging her shoulders as if her unannounced presence is normal. “I knew they were going to bar you from the rooftop and were going to send me my dinner around this time, so I took the opportunity.”

He draws himself further up the bed, his naked chest on display. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he pats the space beside him at the same time. He hears her snicker, the accidental innuendo making him blush. It’s a weird feeling—to be thought of in that way. To think in that way. 

She hops in beside him but stays above the blanket. He raises a brow. 

“I would only make your bed colder.”

It truly is like lying beside a cadaver. She produces little heat when she feeds, but this… This is her natural state. He feels it all, distinguishable from the natural chill of night and three feet of distance. 

“Do you like being cold?”

“It makes summers easier.”

“You’re inside all the time.”

“In general.”

He hums and brings a pillow up to clutch against his stomach. 

“What are you really doing here?”

She shrugs. “I’m public enemy number one right now. The Captain and Wanda may still like me, but I don’t talk to them. Not like how I talk to you.”

“I’m not the friend you want to talk to about your feelings, or have braid your hair.”

“Damn, and I was really looking forward to that.”

He rolls his eyes. The moonlight slices through the curtains of his bare bedroom, cutting right through them. They are separated by the light, and in a peculiar turn of events, he envies the moon for it. The one constant that brought them together, now splitting them in half. 

“When do you think they’ll calm down?”

“Depends on how willing they are to listen to me.”

“Well, you’re hardly ever wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.”

“Hardly. So, I guess what you say is good news.”

He chuckles, the barest of brushes with their shoulders igniting an ache in his stomach. He wonders if she is similarly affected. If she, too, feels the odd connection between them blossoming into something stranger. He is used to feeling nothing at all—conditioned—and yet, skin-to-skin is like learning a whole new language. Fluent in many, the Soldier believes this language of silence is exclusively their own.

“I’m sorry Stark and Banner kept you in the lab for so long.”

“They let me wander.”

His lip quirks. “Did you give them what they wanted?”

“Do you mean, did I break?”

“Were they trying to break you?”

She opens her mouth to say something, something witty he assumes, but she chooses not to. Instead, she shakes her head and bares honest eyes. “No. But I told them what they needed to know. Over time, they’ll start feeling like teammates. And I, a part of the team. They need to know about my condition, and when I’m ready, they’ll know me.” 

He realizes why her impassiveness used to irk him so—she is him, he is her. They are carbon-copies. He is speaking to himself, and he sees and feels what the Captain does. Sadness. Emitting from her, growing within him.

“Do you enjoy being excluded?”

“Do I enjoy being alone?”

“Same thing.”

She rearranges her legs, crossing the right one over the left. “It’s not the same thing. Being alone is for peace of mind. Exclusion is… forced.”

“Isolation, then. Like what Stark said. Basking in our reclusiveness.”

“I’ve been alone a long time. I find comfort in it, but I don’t like being lonely.”

“I’m not following.”

She smiles, turning to look at him. He meets her eyes—there’s a shimmer of gold in them. “I came here tonight because I don’t like being alone at this hour anymore. I like our silence. Our proximity. I’m not lonely when I’m with you, but we can be alone together.”

“Ah,” he sighs. Nervously, he holds her stare and says, “I like our time together, too.”

It’s refreshing, being open. Usually he delivers truths bluntly, honesty with a punch, and information without remorse. With her, it’s easier to be the Soldier. It’s easier to try and reach deep into the pit of what’s left of his soul, and pull out Bucky Barnes.

“Natasha’s nice. We can invite her to smoke with us.”

“No.”

She laughs. “Noted.”

“What about Wilson?”

“He wouldn’t smoke, but he’d be fun in conversation.”

“You speak to him often?”

She hums, considering. “He always speaks to me if I’m in the room. The Captain, too.”

He likes that—people he considers friends treating her kindly.

“What do you talk about?”

“The weather, mostly.”

He snorts, the sound completely unflattering. She doesn’t seem to mind. “Idiots. Do they describe the sun to you, too?”

She laughs again, the original melody caressing his skin. “I don’t blame them. I’m pretty closed off during the day.”

“You should come train with me sometime. The windows can be covered.”

“I forget you’re the expert with knives around here.”

“Knives, yes. Daggers, no.”

She moves to sit criss-crossed, facing him. “It’s not all that different. Plus, what I use are more like shortswords anyway.”

“How old are you again?”

She grins, fangs and all. Beckoning him, his blood. He sits up higher. 

“Never ask a lady her age.”

“I see times haven’t changed.”

“What else do you remember from those times?”

A little, he wants to say. Barely anything at all, he wants to scream.

“I remember ladies wore more than this to bed,” he teases, pinching a loose thread at her shorts. 

She raises a brow. “What nuns were you dating?”

“Don’t tell me I’ve been lied to my whole life.”

“Sometimes,” she breathes, the air she expels completely artificial, “they wore nothing at all.”

“Liar.”

She bounces as she gets off his bed. Her smile remains, and he finds that he’s been sporting one of his own the entire time. 

“Liar. One of my top five pet names.”

He watches her walk away, and before he can stop himself—

“What do you like being called? By your first name? A nickname?”

“I quite like being called Fangs.”

Damn Stark to all the Hells. He gives a playful scoff, “Your first name will do.”

“Call me Fangs.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Get out of my room.”

She rolls her eyes, and checks the hallway before squeezing through the slight gap of the door. “Goodnight, Barnes.”

“Call me James.”

“Your last name will do.”

—————

The Soldier grips the handles of his chair and limits his air consumption to a whopping ten breaths a minute. Any more oxygen and his adrenaline will spike. He does not want to cause a scene, no, not when the Colonel and Banner are doing that for him. 

“I think we all need to calm down and look at this situation from all sides,” the Captain reasons, the strong timbre of his voice carrying over Stark’s. 

“Cap, your bleeding heart is showing.”

The Colonel sighs, “See reason, Tony. She was starving because of our carelessness. And because we never initiate conversation with her, we didn’t ask!”

“Nuh-uh, don’t group me in that shit. I talk to her whenever I see her. I was with my sister all week so I’m excluded from your witch-hunt,” Wilson declares, leaning back in his chair, his expression one of extreme disappointment.

“Buck, we believe her when she says she wasn’t hurting you. But what in the world made you think that it was safe for her to feed from you—not even considering the serum—at all?”

“There you go, treating him like a kid again,” Stark grumbles with a heavy roll of his eyes. The Soldier turns his head slowly, his glare half-hidden behind his hair but deadly enough to make Stark clear his throat. 

“Oh, shut it, Tony. Which is it then? He let her because he’s such a kid, or he shouldn’t have let her because he’s such a kid?” the Colonel argues.

The Widow leans her head back and brings her feet up to rest on the table. “And there you guys go again, acting like he’s not in the room.”

Banner interjects, massaging his hands together as he stutters, “Drinking his blood could have made her even more super than she is. We had no way of knowing for sure because she had rejected every test before this week.”

“And did you find anything different with her blood?” Wilson asks.

“Ah! That’s one thing we discovered. She doesn’t have any,” Stark shares, clapping his hands together.

“Considering the lack thereof, there was no blood to intermingle with his, so to say. She can’t absorb it permanently,” Banner explains further. 

“Something we should have known when she first joined the team!”

“Tony, are you afraid that she’s going to be addicted to his blood now? Or any of ours?” the Widow asks, raising a trimmed brow. She looks around the table, her gaze softening slightly as it lands on the Captain. Still, she moans, “God, you guys are stupid.”

Stark makes a rattling scene as he pulls a chair out and sits down. He intertwines his fingers, mimicking a student. “Elaborate, then.”

The Widow stares at him for longer than the Soldier ever has. Her silence is as deadly as his, but more cutthroat. Where Stark would pinch until the Soldier either swung or bolted, he submits for the Widow. Be it that he’s known her longer and has more respect, he doesn’t know. 

“Did any of you read my report about the mission a few weeks ago? Or did you just send your own to Fury and call it a day?” No one answers her. “Of course. If you did read mine, you would have read where I elaborated on the capability of her self-control. I bled first. It was my blood out in the air. The target hadn’t seen her. Barnes would have dealt with him first and given me the second look. She had the opportunity to go toward my open neck and have a feast. But instead, she tore into the man who hurt me.”

The Soldier can’t help the smirk that forms when it clicks. “You let him cut you on purpose.”

“Glad to know my work is being appreciated.”

Stark leans forward, actual shock painting his face. “You jump started the experiments? That was your idea?”

“Well, you and Banner were getting nowhere.”

He turns to the rest of the table, his smirk replaced by a frown. “She wasn’t going to hurt me because I trust her. And she trusts me. We’ve met every night for the past few months to share cigarettes and conversation up on that roof. Not once before did she even look at my neck.”

“Makes sense for those two to be close,” Banner mumbles, somewhat apologetic. “Remember when you wouldn’t let me or Tony operate on your arm after T’Challa gifted you it?”

“Look, if she’s angry at us then we will all apologize and try to understand where she’s coming from—” 

He abruptly stands, cutting Stark off. He marks the Colonel and the Widow reaching for the guns at their hip. Stark looks offended for a second—

He’s had weeks to learn how to show… empathy. Weeks to learn how to look at someone and have his eyes speak for him. Stark closes his mouth, his brow relaxing, his gaze intense. Decent. Human.

“It’s not some competition between her and I. She’s not trying to be angry, or angrier than me. She’s sad. She didn’t let you into her world because you never asked! Never got to know her. You’re terrified of her not because she looks like she can kill you, but because she looks three seconds away from killing herself. You see nothing in her face—the same nothing like in mine. It’s a hazy type of nothing, and soon you will realize you shouldn’t have been afraid of her, you should have been trying to help her.”

“Buck…” the Captain breathes, restless. 

“I’m not about to kill myself, Rogers. Don’t worry. But everything would be a lot easier if you all just… asked what you wanted to ask. The more you tip-toe around what you think is happening, the longer you build up this scenario that ends in flames. I like my silence, and sometimes I like when it’s interrupted. If you listen to my advice, you’ll know when to bother me and when to leave me the fuck alone.”

The Widow snickers, but there’s pride in her look. Praise he never asked for, and never will. Though, he’s glad his argument is supported. He’s glad the red-haired menace of a woman was creative enough to seek answers herself. The only one with a spine, it seems. 

“I trust her,” he repeats. He really needs them to know that. “You’ve asked questions about her condition and you got your answers. Now, ask about her next time.”

—————

They get the call late into the night. Rousing them from sleep, the Captain tells the team to suit up and board the quinjet in under fifteen minutes. The flight to Moscow will be a long one, and the chilly descent won’t make anyone happier. They are expected to land when the moon hangs high again.

The Widow cannot return to Russia. The Soldier can’t either, but he’s better at evading. He knows how to navigate the icy forests. Wilson, Stark, and the Colonel are grounded for risk of being shot down. The only ones cleared for this mission are himself, the Captain, Barton, Maximoff, and their vampire companion. 

They split into two teams. The Captain and Maximoff head east. Barton accompanies him, and though he does not explicitly say it, he is watching just how close the Soldier walks near the woman who drank his blood three nights ago. 

The mission is to infiltrate and leave no hostages. Killing on a team-effort. They succeed. On record, the Avengers weren’t in Russia at all.

The Captain calls an all-clear and the Soldier corroborates. Sunrise is nearing. They need to return to the quinjet immediately. 

He doesn’t hear the high-tech drones flying at ground-level. But he does hear the rustling behind the trees, the regular breathing from trained lungs. He orders Barton back but it’s too late. He steps on an explosive and is sent into the air. Stark’s expertise extends to their suits as well so it’s a miracle Barton doesn’t lose a limb, but their position is known. He calls for assistance over the comms. Smoke billows at his side, then disappears altogether. As he deals with the men sprouting from hiding, she deals with the ones still crouching. Blood sprays and his legs tire fast without Barton there to help. He doesn’t even know where he landed. 

He tries calling for the Captain again with no luck. It’s an ambush with their best combat agents, and they are sorely outnumbered. If it was just guns and knives, even arrows, he could beat them all. The weapons they have are electricity-based, some fire. He’s battling his own men while also checking at the corner of his eye that sparks and heat aren’t one of her weaknesses. Because if she’s downed, he can’t go for Barton. She is a priority. 

If no one helps her, she’ll burn. 

“Go find Rogers!” he screams to her as he smashes his metal fist into the stomach of a man much larger than him. 

“I’ll go for Clint! He couldn’t have landed far—”

He’s struck by a bullet before she finishes her sentence. Her terrified gasp is perhaps the saddest part about this whole ordeal. She doesn't need to breathe, she doesn't need to gasp. He lands on his back, his stomach branded by lead, directly in this morning’s first ray of light.   

“James!”

The Captain confirms Barton’s safety, then his panicked questioning bombards the comms as he is informed of the Soldier’s condition. Her voice sounds different over the earpiece. Somehow lighter. Frightened, but lighter. Shadows attempt to cover him from afar, but they can’t reach. She’s not close enough. She digs into necks and plunges her gold shortsword into the other available meat she can find. The Soldier has been shot at many times, but shot? Once when he was Bucky Barnes, twice during his seventy year prison sentence, and once more since arriving at the Tower. Only the wound during the war had been in the stomach, and he had miraculously healed in three days then. He hadn’t thought twice about why that was. 

These are the worst injuries—get shot in the middle and suddenly every part of your body hurts. He can’t think, can barely breathe. If he isn’t helped soon, the serum will battle his natural adrenaline to the point he could die from shock. 

There are hands on his shoulders, then under them, lifting poorly. She screams and screams and screams. He smells burning flesh. He is dropped momentarily and sees the flash of a gold dagger, then the crimson of the enemy. Again, he is lifted, dragged. Again, she is screaming.

They take cover in every shadow she can fit in. She waits, whimpering under her breath, then does it all over again. He can’t fully open his eyes. 

She does this twelve more times until they are far enough from the enemy. She shoves them into an empty cave and immediately begins removing his leathers. 

He doesn’t remember much after that.

—————

The unmistakable scent of cooking rabbit hits him before the stabbing pain in his abdomen.

“You owe me,” he hears a cranky voice mutter, the voice he’s come to expect whenever the sun disappears and the moon kisses the stars. He’s on his back, his metal fist practically fused to his stomach. When he opens his eyes fully there are branches blocking his view of the night sky. There’s a campfire to his left, flames growing higher as it cooks the animal hovering over it. He moans in discomfort when he turns his neck a little more, but it’s worth it. 

There she is—skinning a second rabbit and skewering it a second later, frown on her beautiful face, cloak torn from the bullets that grazed her. Without the hood, the injuries from the sun are on full display. Scattered, silver patches mark her natural tint, slowly healing but obviously causing discomfort. She pauses her cooking to scratch at herself relentlessly, cheeks and neck bearing her lashes. 

“What do I owe you?” he croaks, coughing automatically. She abandons the dead animal to grab their emergency water containers. She holds the back of his head as she gently pours water on his lips first. Once moistened, he takes the container from her with his flesh hand. 

“I don’t like killing animals,” she says, helping him sit up. He winces and lets her move him to the base of a wide tree. 

“Sorry,” he replies absentmindedly. “You should eat, too.”

“I already did. You’re getting my leftovers.”

He eyes the fire, then the surrounding forest. “Is it safe to have one burning so high?”

She steadies the second rabbit over the wooden grill and turns the other one. She gives an unimpressed hum and remains facing away. “I dragged you for miles. I doubt they will catch up soon.”

“Miles?”

“The Captain was ambushed, too. Going to him would have put your life at risk.” A pause, then a twinge of distress. “And I wasn’t strong enough to protect you and fight anymore.”

“This had nothing to do with your strength or competence. The sun—”

“The fucking sun,” she grinds out, her usual low tone rising, “Because of the fucking sun, it made me incompetent. I am a hazard in the field when I have to cower in the shadows while my teammates are getting their asses handed to them.”

The Soldier pinches an eye closed, fixing his position slightly. “I can handle my own ass, thank you—”

“I was a nurse in the war.”

He pauses, his heart clenching. “Our war?”

Our war, he says. Like he and the Captain owned all the pain, the consequences, the deaths, the aftermath. 

“I didn’t even know I had… died. I woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by the corpses of my men. I walked for miles until I found the gods-awful British army.”

He chuckles at that, even if his stomach begs him not to. 

“I guess the enemy had a predator on the field. Makes sense… There were a lot of bodies to feed from. I stayed in the tents and worked well into the morning. And when my refuge was attacked, I left the tent so I could help.”

She doesn’t see the pitiful look he gives her. 

“I burned so badly. And while I burned, I couldn’t reach the downed soldiers. When it was all done, instinct won… I fed for the first time that night. They all tasted like bile. When I finally found my own base again, I had a birthday card and chocolate waiting for me. I ate the entire bar even though it made me sick, even though it tasted like dirt. I was questioned about how I survived when so many died, why I kept giving my rations away, why I refused to work during the day. So because of the fucking sun, I let good men die. I could not have that happen today.”

Silence hums between them, the gentle crackle of the fire speaking for them. It occurs to him that she does not need the warmth it provides, but that she built it for him. For the sole purpose of feeding and comforting him. Something liquid figuratively drips into his stomach, swirling chaotically.  

She removes the darkened rabbit from the fire and hands it to him. He thanks her with a nod of his head, and bites into its thigh. The meat is dry, but he has half a mind to thank her for removing its head so he doesn’t have to stare into dead eyes. 

“Clint’s alive, by the way. Idiot landed in a gods-honest haystack a mile from the rest of the team.” 

He laughs as he chews. She nods her head at his stomach. 

“I’m fine,” he assures her, lifting his metal hand to showcase the dried blood. The bullet went right through him. “I’m just sore.”

A few minutes pass before he speaks again, his meal half-eaten. She’s handed him the second rabbit already. 

“Thank you,” he says honestly. “I’m not used to being saved. I find it odd that so many people want to save me. It was a calculated sacrifice, and I owe you my life.”

“Calculated,” she drawls. “I didn’t think much about it. You give me too much credit.”

“Well, if you didn’t think about it, then you’re just as much of an idiot as Rogers.”

The first smile of the night graces her face, now mostly healed from the silver patches. 

“It wasn’t your fault. Someone took advantage of—” he pauses, the words too familiar. “Someone took advantage of you when you were helpless. When you were left for dead. And when you tried to help, you got the short end of the stick.”

“Some dull stick.”

He steadies his breathing, then takes another bite. The ache in his stomach feels less burdensome as he eats. 

“You’re a veteran.”

“Do nurses count as veterans?”

“Fuck yeah they do.” They share a laugh, a moment. It’s as intimate as can be, the most intimate they’ve ever been. Even more so than when she had her teeth in his neck. 

“Thank you,” he repeats, though the sentiment means more now. “For being a friend.”

“Thank you for not dying on me. And for trusting me,” she says, her red eyes glowing faintly. “Do I surpass the Captain?”

He chuckles. “He’s my closest friend. I think you’re my best friend.”

“Whatever that means,” she mutters, her quip a balm over the entire night. 

They speak for the next few hours. It’s the most he’s spoken since coming home. Where his tongue would dry out and his head would turn hazy, he finds peace and urgency instead. Peace in her voice, in his mind. Urgency to tell her everything and nothing, all at once. 

The Captain finds them before sunrise, and the Soldier—for the first time since reclaiming pieces of Bucky Barnes—hugs his closest friend because he simply wants to.

—————

Three weeks later, they are allowed back onto the roof. She brings the cigarettes this time. A different brand, one he vaguely remembers Dum-Dum complaining about. Said they were lady-smokes. He considers their taste, a memory for Bucky Barnes and a new experience for the Soldier. Those truths can coexist. 

He quite likes their flavor. 

“If you could take a bite out of anyone on the team, who would it be?”

He chokes on the smoke, fanning it away as he tries to control his laughter. “It’s actually insane of you to ask that question—”

Her mouth splits into a wide smile, her fangs showing. “Aw, c’mon! Indulge me! Who would it be?”

“Who would you want to taste?”

“Well, I’ve already tasted you.”

His chest tightens, suggestive of a lot more than he is ready to admit. She’s transitioned to blood bags instead of the vein, and some archaic part of himself is glad for it. He doesn’t necessarily want her mouth on anyone’s neck, besides his own, ever again. 

“Yeah, you have,” he says quietly, cheeks reddening. “I don’t want to say who I’m thinking.”

She takes a short drag, smiling around the cigarette. “You’ve thought about it?”

“You want to hear it or not?”

She passes him the stick, her eyes glowing momentarily. “Yes, yes. Sorry, sorry.”

He waits a moment, savoring the taste of her on their smoke. He wonders if one day they’ll upgrade to joints—if it would affect either of them at all. He clears his throat before admitting, “Thor.”

Silence. He takes another drag. 

“I’ve thought about him, too.”

He doesn’t choke on his laugh this time. It’s loud, flowing down into the crowded streets and mixing with reality. For so long his silence has placated his mind and unnerved others—he’s becoming human again, resurrecting.   

She matches his volume, taking the cigarette from his steady fingers. “Seriously! If I were to bring up the question of whether I need human blood or humanoid blood to sustain me to Tony and Bruce, oh! They would call him down to earth to find out immediately.”

Is it possible to bring someone who’s undead back to life, too? Were they living all along? Were they just suspended in an unmoving abyss and once something sparked, they chose to climb again? Is it ever that simple? It took him years, then months, weeks, and suddenly, days. He hasn’t broken through the skyline just yet, and neither has she, but that sliver of solace, that sliver of knowledge that it’s possible… That’s what makes him want to continue on. To hold hands with time itself.  

“I have no doubt they would,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. He breathes in the crisp night air, and feels absolutely no remorse as he asks, “What did mine taste like?”

She considers, eyes crinkling. “Sweet. Like toffee, or more what I remember toffee tastes like. When people are happy, they taste like sugar to me, remember?”

“I was happy?” he says doubtingly, but his mind doesn’t believe his own uncertainty. It’s been a long time since he’s been happy, since he was his old self. Maybe the moment her teeth met his skin, he was Bucky Barnes. Maybe he was a new rendition of his old form—with one new emotion. Learning, retaining, earning this new life. “I’m happy,” he repeats because it’s true.

“I think I’m happy, too.”

God, she’s magnificent. 

“You know what makes me even happier, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Thai food,” he says honestly, ignoring her playful scoff. “I’m serious. Let me take you out tomorrow night. And… when we return… you can taste it for yourself.”

She tries not to smile, but it splits gracefully. “That sounds so weird—”

“Hey, I’m trying here!”

She passes him the cigarette, only their second of the night, and scoots closer on the ledge. “Fine. You can take me out. But there better be wine or else I’ll complain the whole time—”

He grabs her hand, flesh on flesh, warm and cold. Intertwining their fingers, they both study the connection. Again, silence breezes through them. There is no longer a gap, no longer just smoke being shared. 

She does not pull away, but instead leans her head down and rests it on his shoulder. He savors the weight, high on the prospect of time itself, and rests his own head over hers.

xx

A/N: Let me know if you guys want a part 2, if not then this is a perfect one-shot for me! --Moni

[bloodstainedsaint]

Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?

maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi

when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)

word count: 1000+

warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic

notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break

You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.

Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.

-

The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.

“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.

“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.

Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”

Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”

As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”

The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.

He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”

The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.

Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.

Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.

“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."

“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”

You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.

You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”

There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”

“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”

“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”

In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.

“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”

You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”

“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”

He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.

“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”

With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”

Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”

Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101

[rottenpumpkin13]

how do you think AGSZC would be during thunderstorms ? :3

Angeal: He would be so excited. "A thunderstorm? In Midgar? Perhaps nature is healing after all!" He's by the window with his nose pressed up against the glass, watching the rain fall. He has a cup of tea and feels at ease.

Zack & Cloud: If Zack makes one more weather joke involving Cloud's name, Cloud will kill him.

Zack on the other hand grabs Cloud and races to the rooftop so they can experience the rare storm out in the open. They're like two kids sliding around in the puddles, getting soaked with rainwater, flicking it at each other, and pointing out the cool lightning in the sky. They have their fun until Angeal catches wind of this and drags them back inside because "You will DIE."

Genesis: He likes the gloomy weather and thunder for how dramatic and cinematic it looks. You'll catch him by the window with a book, appropriate music, and a blanket pretending to be a protagonist in a movie. That is until a particularly violent crack of thunder snaps his attention back to the real world, and he notices that Sephiroth... isn't doing so well.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth can function in a thunderstorm—he's done it a hundred times before, out on the field, distracted by his assignment that more than often entails an enemy and a bloody battle to be won.

But it's so much different when he's inside with no more than a mundane task to do. The thunder is loud and abrupt, making his heartbeat race uncontrollably and mind snap back to unsavory times when Hojo's screams would come out of nowhere. He's rocking back and forth, wringing his hands, and trying to not look as nervous as he feels. But it's no use. A sudden, violent strike of thunder startles him and he jumps, bringing his hands to his ears and lowering his head.

• Genesis notices this and quickly closes his book. He rips off his headphones, grabs a sketchpad and walks over to Sephiroth with an idea in mind. He gently places his hand on his shoulder—Sephiroth jumps at this, making Genesis even more worried—and puts the headphones over his head. He selects a white noise audio and makes sure Sephiroth is calm. Then he opens the sketchpad, grabs his pen, writes something, and shows it to Sephiroth.

"SCAREDY CAT"

Sephiroth rolls his eyes and pushes Genesis away. But they're both laughing. Sephiroth knows Genesis means well—after all, he can no longer hear the thunder. They sit side by side, using the sketchpad to write out a conversation until the storm passes.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 763: The third year's start!!

Pag 2

1: Ten seconds until the start

Pag 3 /4

1: Let's run with everything we have!!

The last Inter High of the third year Sakamichi, start!!

Pag 5

1: Yeah!!

2: Let's go!!

3: Let's pour our whole guts into it!!

4: Yes!!

5: Let's go!!

6: Teh!!

Pag 6

1: The first day of the boy's Inter High competition in Fukuoka, starts now!!

It's here!!

Pag 7

1: All the cyclists are beginning to run, with the big bridge connecting Kyushu and Honshu through the Kanmon Straits in the back!!

Goo!

Waa, splendid!!

Do your best!!

Pag 8

1: The entrance of Kyushu, here from Moji city in Kitakyushu, going south, they'll fight for three days

Gooo

It's Sohoku!

Yeah!!

2: Waaaaa

The wind is so strong!

The cyclists are so close!

So fast!

Pag 9

1: Kumadai you can do it!

Fukuokaa!!

Their fight will unfold on the stage of Kyushu's nature!!

2: There are so many cyclists

Which team will win?

3: The one you need to pay attention to in the first place, is the one in the front with yellow jerseys

Pag 10

1: Chiba's representative, the two times in a row champion, Sohoku

The third year they call “Mountain King” took the top goal two years in a row!!

Huh... then it's decided already!!

2: Another one is the one with the blue jersey, Kanagawa's Hakone Academy

They were the team that kept winning before, and they're so strong they say that in that team “everyone is an ace”

Huuh... that's amazing too

Pag 11

1: Then there's Kyoto representative, with the purple jerseys, Kyoto Fushimi, who make the race unpredictable every time!!You can already feel their peculiar tenacity!!

They look scary

2: So those three!?

Well, yeah, but rumor has it that this year the mountain bike champion is participating, too

4: MTB!? The off-road one!?

That's right!!

5: And I guess the local Kyushu team won't keep quiet, and Hiroshima is strong too

There's a strong element of uncertainty in road racing

There are a lot of people, and the distance to cover and the time are long too

6: It's not the stronger one who always win

Huh

It's always been said that....

Pag 12

1: Until the finish line is crossed and the race is over, you never know what can happen during a road race!!

Pag 13

1: Hyoo... there's so many people, teh

2: They're all waving their hands, teh!!

Ahhh.... so many people, the scale is so different from the prefectural qualification, teh

3: What's wrong, newbie!! Hahaha

Ka-Kaburagi-san!!

4: It started

Huh!?

5: Finally, the Inter High!!

Pag 14

1: I'll show everyone here what I can do!! Take a look, newbie!!

2: This is the genius Kaburagi Issa's!! Super Special Strong-

3: Start Dash!!

Listen up, Rokudai

Yessir, teh

The red on the referee car means we can't surpass it

Pag 15

1: As long as that racket-like thing is red, this is a parade run

2: Until it gets turned round and becomes green, the race is in a neutral situation

Horuaaa

It means we have to run slowly and safely

3: There's no point in jumping ahead here

And if someone did that, he's just an idiot

Are you watching me, Aoyagi-san!! Haha

Teh... Aoyagi... san..

I'll surpass the care ahead of us!!

4: Once it becomes green, the speed will increase

Don't fall behind

5: Ye... yessir, teh!!

6: Hahaha I guess I left them behind of quite a lot

Waaa!? They're still right behind me!? Imaizumi-san, you're so fast!!

Choose a senpai to refer to

Ah.. huh... yessir, teh...

Pag 16

3: We've pretty much passed the residential area, teh

The parade will go on for a few more kilometers

4: Once we get on a wider road and can confirm it's safe, then there's the real start

Ohh

Pag 17

1: My first Inter High....

What on earth is it... the Inter High....

2: Ahh... my heart is pounding, teh...

Yeah, enjoy the scenery and the heart pounding while you still can

3: Teh!?

4: Once the race starts you won't have time to look at the scenery or take a breath

6: You- you have enough time to take a breath

Ro- Rokudai-kun

Don't bully the first year, Hotshot

7: Onoda-san!!

Pag 18

1: Only a little

3: Almost... none... the Inter High!!

I see... teh

Onoda-kun... you were even worst than Hotshot now..

Huh!?

The Inter H...igh sounds harsh

4: No, uhm

Uhm, it is

5: It's incredibly hard

It's so hard you could collapse

6: Your whole body falls apart and you can't even take a breath!!

Fall apart...!!

He's really putting the boot in...

Pag 19

1: But we run with all our strength

2: with everyone supporting each other

3: If we connect

Connect...

4: and we run until the end with all our might

7: When everything is over and we look back at it

Pag 20

1: We'll feel like it a really irreplaceable time

2: That difficult moment

Pag 21

1: When we were angry, frustrated, or when we smiled

We'll remember everything

2: Then, we'll think that we're happy we didn't give up

3: “Think”....

“Wish”....

4: That's....

Pag 22

1: That's the Inter High!!

3: If there are people who have “power” in their words

4: For me, it's this person

I've been thinking it since I've met him

5: Are you... in trouble?

Follow me

6: He usually seems unreliable when he talks, and there are times when he's awkward, but

… yes

Pag 23

1: His words always strike my core!!

Yessir!! Teh!!

That's right, Onoda-kun

You're right, Onoda

You can bet on it..!!

Yes!!

Pag 24

1: Thank you so much, teh

For bringing me, who didn't know anything, in such a brilliant and heart shaking world!!

Pag 25

1: Huh!? Everyone else too!! You were listening!?

Ah... uhm.. I was talking to Rokudai-kun...

2: Hahaha, we heard

3: And thanks to it, I'm all fired up!!

Don't get fired up more than this or you'll turn into ashes quickly

4: I-I'll run with everything I have, teh!!

5: So that you can fulfill

6: your dearest wish you told us about when we were coming here on the ship!!

Pag 26

1: “Dearest wish”

5: Yokosuka-Kokura ferry, off the coast of Kochi Prefecture

7: Well, the schedule after we arrive is roughly like this

Remember it yourself

Yes

Yes

Pag 27

1: Now if you get too excited you'll only get tired, and now it's okay to relax

Get a good night's sleep today, when you wake up tomorrow we'll go ashore

Yes!

2: Onoda, you want to say anything?

Huh!?

5: Let's... let's do our best

6: Yessir!!

Yes!!

On!!

7: Good night

Good night!!

8: Can I ask one last thing?

Pag 28

1: Earlier, Naruko-san said that our objective for this Inter High is to get our “third consecutive victory”

To be on par with Hakogaku, who is the only team to ever win three times in a row in the history of the Inter High

4: I agree, I also think we have to do it

But I there's one thing I'm curious about, and I don't think it's been asked yet

5: Onoda-san, what's your objective this year?

What are you running in the Inter High for?

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks saving you from hypothermia

You and Shanks: *get separated from the rest of the crew during a snow storm*

Shanks: *shielding his eyes from the snow and tries to yell over the howling wind* This storm is getting worse, get over here, we need to stick together. I don't want you getting lost!

You: *hears a crack under your feet* what was that!

Shanks: Fuck, we're wandered onto ice! Move very slowly, and grab my hand!

You: *falls through the ice when you reach for his outstretched hand*

Shanks: No! *Dives into the water after you, and pulls you from the icy depths and looks around* damn it, we need to find shelter!

You: Look over there, there's a cabin!

Shanks: Good eyes kid, let's get a moving. *Activates his armament haki, and wades through the snow and carries your frozen form in his arms*

When he gets you through the door

Shanks: *looks down and notices that your lips, nose, and fingertips are starting to get discolored from the cold, and your eyes are unfocused* oi oi, stay with me kid!

You: it's hot *starts to pull off your coat*

Shanks: *jumps into action and throws you onto the couch, and races to get a fire lit, breaking furniture to use as kindling*

You: *has already pulled off almost every article of wet clothing*

Shanks: *pulls his own clothing off and piles the cushions from the couch in front of the fire place* come ere you

You: *slaps his hands away* no it's too hot to cuddle.

Shanks: you little brat, fine, you leave me no other choice. *Fishes through a linen closet and pulls out a bunch of blankets. Most of which he uses to make a little nest, and one he wraps you up in like a burrito, and drags you to to the spot he prepared in front of the fire and gets on top of you. So you are trapped between him and a bunch of pillows.*

You: *struggles against him* Let me go, you big idiot.

Shanks: *gently bites your palm as you press your hand against his face*

You: *yanks your hand away and whines* get off of me you big jerk.

Shanks: I need you to trust me, when I say this really is in your best interest.

You: but

Shanks: Please

You: *sulks* fine

Shanks: atta girl *pulls off your underwear set and throws them over his shoulder as he gets comfortable on top of your shivering form.*

A few hours later

You: *wakes up feeling the drastic and uncomfortable difference between your cold body, and your sweltering surroundings, and opens your eyes in an unfamiliar place* hmm what happened?

Shanks: *lifts his head off your chest and looks down at you* finally awake, huh?

You: captain? Where are we?

Shanks: At an old hunting cabin, you fell through the ice and passed out.

You: what ice?

Shanks The ice of the frozen lake we accidentally stumbled on, but it's nothing to worry about. We'll reunite with the rest of the crew in a few days. They'll actually probably find us first... Anyway, how are you feeling? *Absentmindedly rubs his knuckles against your chest*

You: *gasps did you undress me?!

Shanks: *chuckles* didn't need to, practically couldn't get you to keep them on soon as I started building the fire. But they needed to come off anyway, they were wet, as were mine.

You: *realize what that means and is very self-conscious*

Shanks: *sees right through you.* You have nothing to worry about dear, you're beautiful, and I am not going to do anything without permission, at least nothing beyond keeping you warm.

You: ... You're heavy

Shanks: *snorts* Pouting was not the reaction I was expecting. *Hooks an arm under you and flips the two of you over, so you were resting on his chest.*

Two hours later

Shanks: I'm hungry.

You: I had some rations in pack, they should still be good if they didn't get wet.

Shanks: *slides out from under you and walks over to the couch where your clothes are, unabashed of his nudity.* Sweet, it's dry.

Benn: *bursts through the door* Boss!

Shanks: oh hey buddy

Benn: *sees his nude captain, and you, covering yourself by the fire,* I'm sorry, I'll come back later *slowly closes the door*

You: you're misreading the situation! Shanks go get him.

Shanks: *laughing too hard*

[wosowrites]

One Shot (Jill Roord x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️swearing and blood⚠️

a/n: let’s pretend Viv’s ACL isn’t torn. based off this request:

prompt: the world cup final with your secret girlfriend Jill Roord.

For two years, Jill and you had been dating. You both played for Wolfsburg, and only your teammates and families knew about your relationship. That was fine with the both of you, although lately, you had been talking about going public. You had both decided that you would tell people after the world cup final. So, tomorrow.

You felt nothing as you stood behind Dan and in front of Jill. Your face was stone cold and full with concentration. You felt a hand gently graze your arm and you knew it was Jill’s way of telling you you had this. You looked to your left at the lionesses. They were all lined up and directly beside you was Lucy Bronze. She was easily the player you were the most scared of on the team. But there was no room for fear in your mind. The referees started walking out into the large australian stadium, the crowd was wild, a sea of orange and white. Everything was a blur. There was the national anthem, the shaking of hands, the team picture, and then the kickoff.

England scored first in the 60th minute from an Alessia Russo banger. Your heart dropped as you saw the ball go in. As one of the wingers, you felt guilty. You were giving Viv service, passes, crosses, and you had taken shots too. But everywhere she was, there was Lucy Bronze, Millie Bright or Leah Williamson. England was unbreakable. That is, until the 78th minute during a corner kick.

You were the Netherlands pride and joy when it came to corner kicks. They were your specialty. You had scored two olympico’s for the netherlands, but that’s not what happened today. You lifted your hand in the air and kicked the ball with your left foot, delivering it perfectly. It went to the back post and you thought you had over shot, that was until Jill came running. She lunged, the sole of her foot connecting with the ball and going flying into the net. The Netherlands fans went crazy. You screamed at the top of your lungs, running to the group of girls in orange who were hugging and jumping around. They opened your arms too you, complimenting your corner. You crossed your fingers to Jill who crossed them back. It was your special thing, you couldn’t do PDA, so it was your way of saying I love you during games.

The referee blew the whistle in the 92 minute. Extra time. It had been a surprisingly clean game for a World Cup final. Only two yellow cards between both teams and a couple of fouls. But you knew that was all about to change. Playing 120 minutes meant people got tired, and panicked, and scared. And that meant unnecessary tackles.

That’s exactly what happened in the 117th minute.

Viv was obviously trying to keep her cool, but she wasn’t positioned well when Dan sent a perfect ball through the midfield and up to where Viv was supposed to be. Luckily for you, you were fast, the ball was in the air and you jumped up, back towards Mary Earps. You brought your leg up and it trapped the ball, but that was as far as you got.

Dirty.

That was the only word for the tackle against you.

The second you trapped the ball with your foot, you felt the breath get taken out of you. You felt someone’s body collide with your own from behind, and you felt their head against the back of yours. Your body went flying forwards, falling on top of the ball and winding you further. You let out a loud groan of pain, rolling on the ground with your eyes shut. You heard a whistle and then felt a hand on your back. Your head was in the grass and your hands were holding the back of your head that was bleeding profusely. "Y/n?" Jill’s familiar voice said. You got onto four legs, digging your palms into the grass. There was clearly blood trickling down your neck. You felt a hand pull down the neck of your jersey a little. "Can’t get your jersey dirty." Jill said gently. "I’m not going off. We need to win this." You mumbled, seeing medics running towards you from the corner of your eye.

"She’s faking it, I barely touched her!" Lucy’s words echoed on the pitch and before you could stop your girlfriend she was on her feet and walking towards the english woman. "She’s faking it?!" Jill yelled, storming towards Lucy and the referee. You tried to get up but the medics stopped you as they were pushing a towel into your head to stop the bleeding.

Jill put her hand up to Lucy’s face, it was full of your blood. "You mean her blood is fake? She’s just- pretending to bleed? You’re fucking dirty!" Jill yelled, pushing Lucy with both hands, leaving a bloody mark on Lucy’s jersey. "Hey! Hey you both better calm down or I’ll send you both off and your teams will be playing a man down each!" The referee yelled at both the women. Lucy gave a death stare to Jill and then walked off, slipping off her jersey and getting handed a new one by her equipment manager. The referee still took out a yellow card, lifting her arm up in the air and showing a yellow to both Lucy and Jill.

Jill was by your side again soon, and the medics had given you the all clear. "You gotta come off for a bit but you can theoretically still play." The man said to you with a nod. "That’s all I need to know." You said. Your head was wrapped up in gauze and tape and Jill gave you a quick hug before taking her position again.

You were back on the field two minutes later but only for a few minutes as no one scored.

Penalty time.

You barely listened to Andries as he gave a quick speech to you guys. All you could think of was how you were going to take that penalty. As the girls started to go like up, Jonker held you back. "Can you take this penalty? Your heart did okay?" He asked you. "I can take it. I’ve got this. We’re doing it just how we did in practice." You told him. He clapped you on the back and you jogged over to the girls. You put one arm around Jill and one around Viv and watched.

Dan took the first penalty. She scored and your team cheered loudly. Then it was Ella Toone. She scored as well. Viv was next you tapped her on the back as she walked towards the spot, closing the gap by putting your arm around Lieke Martens. Viv scored as well. Leah Williamson stepped up next and shot it home. Jackie Groenen stepped up to the spot and slotted it into the far left corner. It was a beautiful penalty. And then Lauren James stepped up. Your team held their breaths as she shot it. Lauren was young, and the penalty was an easy save for Daphne who cheered loudly. Aniek was next and your heart dropped as you saw Mary Earps get the tip of her fingers on the ball. Next was Rachel Daly. That scared you because she wasn’t experienced. But even experienced players miss. Rachel sent it flying sky high.

And then it was your turn. And you knew that scoring this meant you were world champions. If your slotted this home, then even with a goal by England’s next penalty taker, they would still loose.

After 120 minutes and a dirty tackle, wearing a bandage around your head, it was time to make the Netherlands world champs.

You placed the ball and then took four steps back. You made eye contact with Mary Earps, smiling at her gently and throwing her off. The referee whistles and you ran up to the ball. Mary went left. You went right.

The Netherlands were world champions.

You fell to your knees in joy, quickly ending up at the bottom of a large dog pile. eventually they let you out and you jumped around in joy.

All you wanted was to find Jill, and you soon did. You found her and cupped her face with your hands, she did the same to you. You looked at each other like that for a little until you pulled her into a hug. You laughed, and sung, and cried, and hugged so many people. You also toned it down as you tried to comfort a few of the lionesses, including Lucy.

"You were great. You did great." You told her gently. She nodded gently. "Sorry about your head." She sniffled. "Sorry about my girlfriend yelling at you."

You walked away with that, not seeing lucy’s the look of realization on her face as she realized you had called Jill your girlfriend.

The trophy lift was next, Sherida lifted it first, and then Viv, and then she handed it to you and Jill. You both went to the front of the group, and lifted it up in the air together. The Netherlands fans cheered loudly and sang their hearts out.

Confetti in orange and white and silver was all over the floor, you laid down in it, and eventually Jill threw some on you. "Oh you’re on Roord." You said, standing up and throwing confetti at her. You guys were like children on a sugar rush. Except your sugar was alcohol and adrenaline. You were partying, throwing things, singing, laughing and you couldn’t stop hugging Jill.

You both went around signing things and taking pictures, never leaving each others side. All you wanted to do was kiss her.

After another hour on the field, soaking everything in, the fans had left. The stadium was empty other than the Netherlands team. The english were in their locker room, and the dutch girls were starting to go into the tunnel. "You guys coming?" Dan asked you and Jill. You were both lying in the middle of the field, confetti stuck to your body due to the sweat from the game and from the dancing and jumping around.

"In a sec." You said, sitting up.

Dan nodded and walked into the tunnel, leaving you and Jill by yourselves on the field.

Jill shifted so that her head was in your lap and you looked down at her, brushing strand of hair from her face and taking a piece of confetti away from her forehead. "There is no one in the world I would rather be here with." You told her, tearing up. "You mean everything to me. Everything in the world." You told Jill, who smiled lovingly at you. "Well… we own the world now. We’re world champs." She said to you. "But I wouldn’t want to be with anyone other than you either. I’m so in love with you." Jill said.

She sat up gently and you put your forehead against yours, moving only to kiss her. You made out for a couple seconds until you heard movement behind you. You both pulled apart and turned around to see a small english woman picking up her water bottle from the ground. Nobbs. She raised her bottle to you both in a sign of cheers, and walked back inside.

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Cars and Conversations (Part I)

Mulder and Scully have traveled a lot a lot a lot during their years in the basement-- surely, they had pretty cool conversations on the road?

Loose chronological order below~

@wexleresque/hellsteeth's

stars

As he climbs into the passenger seat of his father’s Lincoln, Fox yawns. The dashboard clock reads 5:03 AM and the smug tilt of his mother’s lips suggests that the early hour is the result of considerable negotiation. The tires crunch on the driveway and his mother waves at him absentmindedly from the porch as they depart. She doesn’t make a habit of smiling, but in the dark, Fox thinks something close might be on her face.

The drive is quiet this morning, save for the news on the radio and the whistle of the wind through the cracked window. Sunflower seeds sail over the glass and Fox takes a few out of the bag, chewing on them for something to do.

“How’s work, Dad?” he asks as they pass Fall River.

 Young Mulder is tossed back and forth by his begrudging parents.

the fbi basement bulletin board - Chapter 5 (Tumblr)

“Hm. Well you probably don’t need a medical professional to tell you this, but if you keep moving it around, it’s going to take longer to heal. You need to rest it.”

“Noted, doc. And you just missed the turn, by the way.”

S1 Mulder is bad at directions-- especially with a sprained wrist.

Local Radio (Tumblr)

Driving out to a little town in Indiana hadn't been in the original plan, but the business of Memorial Day weekend had removed flying as an option. They needed to reach their destination within 24 hours. So here they were, en route to another place that didn't even warrant a dot on the map (you've seen one, you've seen them all, he sometimes thought to himself).

Mulder is amused at a crazy radio station (and at Scully's reaction.)

Christine Leigh's (Alt. Ao3) Maybe?

"Okay, here we are." Maggie said this as she pulled off the highway and onto the road that would take them into Democrat Hot Springs. She was surprised that there wasn't more traffic. This town, if she remembered right, was supposed to be some sort of a resort area. Five more minutes, and they were in the parking lot looking up at the familiar sight of the neon arches, and that's all that mattered. 

Captain Scully is back from deployment; and Maggie senses something is off with her youngest daughter.

@thatfragilecapricorn30's (Ao3) Tell Me You Love Me - Chapter 1

“How do you know where I live?” he asked.

Scully’s cheeks reddened; she was hoping he wouldn’t notice or find her actions inappropriate. “It was, uh, it was in your personnel file. I wrote down your address after you called me at home after the last case. I figured I may need it at some point.”

Mulder smiled. “Just trying to see if you’ve been spying on me.”

Post Deep Throat Scully can't shed her keyed-up nerves after driving Mulder back home.

@scullywolf's (Ao3)

Eve

Her eyes narrowed. “How far up north?”

“California’s a big state, Scully.”

“I’m aware of that. How far?”

He decided there was probably something very interesting over in the corner that merited staring at while he answered. “About 300 miles. Give or take.”

Eve Mulder sheepishly wakes Scully.  

Red Museum

Sure, the old man wasn’t a member of the church, and similarities between him and Brother Andrew were all but nonexistent, but the cryptic “There’s something I’d like to show you,” with no further explanation, was enough to set her mental warning bells chiming. She was a grown woman, with a gun, but that didn’t mean she loved the idea of jumping into some random stranger’s truck after only the briefest of exchanges. Mulder joined her at the truck’s window, an unspoken question on his face.

Red Museum Scully communicates her anxieties to Mulder without a word.

Demons

The car company rep agreed to come and pick her up, and she sat down on the curb for only a minute or so before getting up again to pace off her nervous energy. A hundred horrible scenarios played themselves out in her head; at least ninety of them involved Mulder getting into car wrecks of varying degrees of seriousness. In order to keep herself from panicking, she tried to focus on the task at hand, which only made her angry that she was even in her current position in the first place.

Demons Scully has to call in a new rental car.

Drive

“All I’m saying,” she said pointedly, “is that it could be worse. We could be crammed in a room right now with a bunch of other agents, and instead we’re at least driving around through what you have to admit is some fairly scenic farmland.”

Mulder spared a moment to mourn their lost office. 

Drive Scully appreciates being out in the field with Mulder again.

Dreamland II

"...Mulder, I’m not proud of how long it took me to realize what was going on. I was about ready to drag you in for an MRI. Some sort of delayed-effect brain trauma from your trip out to the Queen Anne was the only thing I could think of to account for your dramatic change in behavior. Only it wasn’t you at all–”

“Well, you believe it now, and that’s all that matters. Now how do we fix things?”

Dreamland II Mulder and Scully catch up before heading back into the fray.

@cactustree's (Ao3) Fast Times and Slow Drives

She startles when she feels a warm hand on top of hers, and her eyes snap open as though jolted by an electric shock. She looks over to find Mulder studying her, his eyes darkened with concern.

“Watch the road, Mulder,” she murmurs, pulling her hand away from his.

“What’s wrong, Scully?”

Post Genderbender Mulder banters away Scully's apology with facts.

@h0ldthiscat's (Ao3, Alt. Ao3)

Survivor

She swats him away with one of her small hands when he touches her head and helps her into the car, but the look she shoots him lacks her usual antagonism, and the purse of her lips doesn't quite convince him that she's annoyed.

"Do you want another one of these before we hit the road?" He shakes a half-empty bottle of Gatorade at her as he slides behind the wheel, but she shakes her head once, firmly, and presses her lips together in a thin line, making them even whiter than they are.

Post Darkness Falls Mulder drives them home.

7. things you said while we were driving

She shoves the sunshade back up and clears her throat. “Can we go?”

He notices for the first time that her eyes are wet, that her chin is quivering despite her best attempts to control it. Remorse and guilt wash over him as he remembers an offhand comment from earlier in the week that explains her makeup, her nicer-than-usual suit, the set of her jaw. 

Post Never Again Mulder's remorse soothes Scully's feelings.

Can I ask for a fic tonight? :)

“Was the drive okay?” she asks.

Mulder jerks his head back to the still open door and says, “Ask your son, he drove.”

William appears in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, tawny hair in his eyes. “It was fine, Mom.”

“Good,” she says, shooting daggers at Mulder with her eyes, daggers that say she can’t believe he let their son drive in a snowstorm....

AU-- Revival era Scully is not pleased Mulder let college age William drive back in a snowstorm.

@crossedbeams’s (Ao3) I-Spy

‘I love this song!’ I explain, whizzing the twizzler I have pilfered from Mulder’s junk food haul around in some vaguely rhythmic pattern. I love music I just lack the skill set to express that love very elegantly.

Mulder chuckles at my enthusiasm and cranks up the volume, ‘I never would have had you pegged as a Clapton fan’.

S1 Scully tells Mulder about her family road trips.

@slippinmickeys's (Ao3, Gossamer)

Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 25 (Tumblr)

The thing was, it was next to impossible to see out the windshield. 

Scully loved thunderstorms. Having spent a large portion of her youth in San Diego, they were still a novelty, even after years on other, more weather-prone bases and college campuses, and if she'd been home, she would have pulled up a chair next to her window and curled up there with a mug of tea, watching the light play in the sky and the water ping sharply against the glass. 

However, as a driver she was cautious, and with Mulder, well, she had a reputation to uphold: He was the engine. She was the brake. 

S1 Scully drives through a storm, donuts and a dozing partner included.

@brownies-and-tea/browniesandtea's Collect Call

“Mulder, it’s too late.” Scully sighed and leaned against the rain-streaked window of the car.

"I can't believe you're thinking fondly of that awful motel."

"I'm thinking fondly of a decent night's sleep." she stretched across the passenger seat.

S1 Mulder pursues a lead with Scully, from car to phone booth.

Ten's Learning to Breath (1/2)

In the elevator the women leaned him against one of the walls and kept talking to him, worried that otherwise he would go back to sleep and start sliding to the floor. Dana asked him questions, like his name and address, to keep him alert. She was relieved when she received the correct answers.

They got him into the backseat of Maggie's car, careful not to bump his head. Dana immediately raced around the car and got in the back herself. She fastened his seatbelt and watched as he leaned back against the headrest. He was asleep again before Maggie turned the key in the ignition.

AU-- Post One Breath Scully, Maggie, and Melissa are shocked at the state of Mulder's apartment.

J. C. Sun's Car Ride

My partner is next to me, as he always is, but for the first time in months, he's wearing his glasses. They make him look like an owl: a giant, somber six-foot owl perched in the driver's side seat. However, I doubt any owl has ever rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbow and cradled a book in his lap, or chased the paranormal for a living. Nor do I think any owl has ever looked quite like him: the slightly twisted nose, the clear hazel eyes and the annoying, annoying little lock that, even now, droops across his forehead. It takes a wrench of will to resist the urge to reach out and to smooth it into place.

Post Firewalker Scully is bonded to Mulder now.

@seek-its-opposite/seek_its_opposite's

transient luminous events

He is still just standing there, the sleeves on the turtleneck he didn’t need to wear pushed up at the elbows. She is suddenly, vividly aware of the car, of the hot metal and the smell of rubber in stagnant humidity. Duane Barry’s trunk smelled like a spare tire. Her mouth goes cloth-gag dry.

“Can we?” she asks. She waves her hand at the road ahead and wonders how she’s so sure of this: He’d have known what she was asking even if she hadn’t.

“Sure,” Mulder nods. He looks relieved. He grabs their flashlights from the glove compartment and hands her one, and the flood of Pfaster’s headlights behind her eyes softens and clarifies into two beams that will never outrun her. And they walk.

Post Irresistible Scully confronts Mulder on his bubble-wrap method of protection.

if you weren't so

She tilts her chin up at him, at the usual angle, and finds that the geometry between them is the same.

“I need to talk to you,” she says. “Something’s happened.”

Behind him, his not-wife drags a recliner over the threshold in reverse, yelling at the houses that all look like hers.

“I have to talk to you alone.”

She says “alone” like she always says it and wonders if she meant to do that. There are days when she’s sure she could leave him in the dirt and still wind up in a room with him at the end of the world. As they slip behind the truck, she's gripped by the idea that to Joanne Fletcher, she is the woman Mulder shouldn’t be with.

AU-- Dreamland II Mulder and Scully try to find a way back to each other.

theramblinrose's Irresistible - Chapter 5/Chapter 6

“I didn’t know when I’d hear from you,” Mulder said.

“I’m at the airport,” Scully said. “I’ve got a car. I’m driving in. I just wanted to call before I left.”

“Anything wrong?” Mulder asked.

“No,” Scully said. “Honestly—everything’s feeling pretty right, Mulder.”

AU-- Irresistible Mulder and Scully are juggling their new relationship, a surprise pregnancy, and the fallout from the nefarious Pfaster.

eponine119's Same Old Fight

-Turn it back, he'd insisted, his knuckles white on the steering wheel with the effort of keeping the car on the narrow twisting road, This is making me jumpy.

-I don't know why I let you drive.

-You didn't have any choice.

-Mulder, pull over and let me drive.

-No.

S2 Mulder rescues Scully after their blowout fight almost ends with an explosive conclusion.

Sneakers/sneakers's

Walter Skinner's 'From Left Field

"But I don't see why Skinner should care about the book. It didn't mention *him*, and it didn't even use our names." Scully stood in front of the bookcase, scanning the shelves. "We didn't divulge anything classified; I'm sure the reading public thinks the whole think is a joke."

"But they had the nerve to claim I ate *twelve* piece of sweet potato pie!"

She pulled the book down. "Skinner's going to complain about your eating habits?"

"But I *hate* sweet potato pie, Scully. You know that, remember? I turned green at the gills last Thanksgiving, when your sister-in-law offered me some."

Post Jose Chung's From Outer Space Skinner has his thoughts on the book.

Sweet Home D.C.

"But the reception . . ." She looked out the window at the 1 AM darkness. "I think we both need to get some sleep. Turn the radio back on if you want to."

He did.

<< . . . Sweet home, Alabama . . . where skies are so blue . . . sweet home, Alabama . . . Lord, I'm coming home to you . . .>>

"That guy's got something wrong with his head, Scully."

Mulder and Scully, switching songs and swapping gum.

Evil_Little_Dog's

Cassadaga Bound

Dana squinted out the car window. "I don't think there's enough room in this town for all the witches, or demons, or devils in Florida, let alone the world."

S3 Mulder detours he and Scully to a fortune teller's.

Travelogue

“We’re not lost.” Mulder shot her a look then turned back to the road, correcting for the drift. “We’re directionally challenged.”

Making a guttural noise deep in her throat, Scully glanced out the window.

Mulder, the car, and a ditch.

@sunlightscully's (XF Writing Challenge - Food)

They have perfected the art of car eating. The driver orders and pays and hands the greasy bag over to be unpacked. The passenger unwraps the driver’s burger. They share fries.

When he pays she asks for the bare minimum and nothing too expensive. He orders extra large milkshakes and pretends he doesn’t see her stealing sips. They compensate for each other. Ketchup has not been spilled in years.

Mulder realizes he loves Scully.

Starbuck's (FFN) Wake Me When We Get There

"Shouldn't be much longer, Scully."

She made no acknowledgment, lying her head upon the seat once again. He continued driving as she drifted in and out of consciousness. White line. White line. Yellow line.

"Wake me when we get there, Mulder."

Mulder keeps the volume down so his partner can sleep on the long drive home.

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk's (Ao3) drabble; pay no mind

Scully paces around the car, branches and leaves snapping quietly under her weight. But she’s not angry, not at all, or nervous. She occasionally bends down to steal a sunflower seed from him and pauses to crack it before continuing her little loops.

Mulder and Scully find their own ways to entertain themselves when the rental car breaks down.

@incidental-ao3/incidental's Febuwhump 2023: The Truth is Out There (And the Fic is In Here) - Chapter 18

“No, Mulder, I should be keeping you awake, you’re the driver.”

“But I am awake,” he argued reasonably. “So there’s no reason for you to torture yourself when you could catch another few hours’ rest.”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not torture,” she scoffed. He smirked.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. She scowled sleepily.

Scully tries not to fall asleep, and Mulder ruminates on life before lights.

@mulderbabe77's Taco Stands and Regrets

He pushed down a little harder on the gas pedal.

“Are you gonna throw up?” He gulped, hoping to hear a no.

“Nope,” she answered and for a moment he almost sighed with relief. “The other thing, I think,” she finished, grimaced again and held a hand to her cramping stomach.

“I’m on it!” He sped the car up a little more.

Ten minutes later they could see the exit just ahead. Mulder was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Mulder and Scully both get food poisoning while on the road.

@hamster-on-fire/fade_into_the_dusk_with_me’s For The Sake Of Driving (Ao3)

They’d do this sometimes. Drive. They were always driving, it seemed. But when it was dark like this & he was scared like this, or tired like this, or just utterly numb like this, it was different. The curve of the road up ahead could feel like a whole conversation; the silence, an opening, & they’d both sit there, like staring at a sterile wound.

Mulder and Scully help each other decompress on long, long car drives late into the night.

Timemeantnothing's On the road again

“We helped keep the Germans from getting Thor’s Hammer.”

“Mhmm,” Scully hummed, turning the corner.

“It was Einstein, Scully. We protected Albert Einstein.”

“That was very good of us to do.”

Mulder and Scully, driving: hot ladies, aliens, cheek kisses, Triangle rambles, and Millennium contentedness.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

**Note**: I am a "separate the art from the artist" person through-and-through; but my lists will no longer be featuring writers that have blocked me-- tooooooo much drama has been kicked up over that issue.

[nerves-nebula]

Is there anything Splinter did to the others that even Leo at the time though was too far/didn't like?

Oh, plenty of things. I’ve mentioned a few things Leo regrets before that were BASICALLY entirely Splinter's fault (putting donnie in the corner, making the turtles spar until first blood, that kinda stuff) but Leo would be hard pressed to blame Splinter (at least at the time). Splinter’s kinda gotten in his head in a way where Leo automatically jumps to his dads defense because he understands his mindset so well, and he’s been fed all the excuses Splinter tells himself to justify his behavior. 

Also, Splinter has a habit of punishing the others to teach Leo a lesson. For example, if Leo slacks off in training, Splinter might fight one of his brothers as a demonstration. Everyone knows it's not a fair fight, but it’s not about everyone else, it's about LEO. The whole point is that if Leo slacks off and falls behind he’ll be even more outmatched in a REAL combat situation. Stuff like that makes it hard for Leo to blame Splinter, because in Leo’s mind it's HIS fault his brother’s getting hurt. 

THAT being said, there is one idea I’ve been batting around about Donnie (yeah he’s my favorite so unfortunately this is about him again.) 

So, I’ve been thinking, obviously Donnie wants attention and affection from adults, but plenty of kids do and not all of them are so easy to manipulate/so visibly desperate to get away. And while he is partially based on me and is a slight exaggeration of how easy it’d have been to groom me, I also want to give him some of his own reasons for things. Yknow, like a character haha. ANYWAY enough rambling, here’s the vague outline of what happened:

Around 6-7 years old, Donnie was really stepping into building things, right? Little, simplistic robots and wind up toys and stuff. It’s hard to do that using only tech that’s been dropped into the sewers, but he manages. This is before he discovers the hidden city, too, so his only source of supplies is the sewers. He’d scavenge all day for parts. It wasn’t exactly a safe hobby, but it was fun.

Well, once he needed a part that wasn’t easy to get. Something small, but specific (being vague cause idk shit about tech or building things tbh) and he, being a small child, decided to see if they had anything in the house that would work. He went around asking his brothers, then checked all the communal spaces (kitchen, dojo, living room, etc) and finally ended up finding something that would work! In Splinter’s room! While Splinter was away getting food!

Donnie, once again being a small child, was not subtle in his theft and left multiple signs that someone had been there. Splinter asked which one of them had been in his room, and after a tense interrogation, Leo pointed out that Donnie had been rummaging around the place looking for something so it was probably him. So, Donnie admitted what he’d done.

In response, Splinter grabbed his arm, walked them o Donnie’s room and confiscated every single object Donnie had built. Toys, robots, the whole thing. He also confiscated any usable spare parts Donnie had been keeping as well, so that Donnie would have to start his search for parts all over again.

He never gave them back. No matter how much time passed, if Donnie brought it up Splinter would glare at him and basically shrug him off. Only Leo knows that Splinter destroyed them all, and sold anything useful. Which he only knows because Splinter revealed it to him in a very dismissive, flippant way years later. Leo’s never told his brothers, but Donnie’s figured there’s no way Splinter kept all his inventions. 

I think Splinter does similar things to the others, like tear up a comic Mikey’s reading during training, or take Raph’s food and give it to Leo as punishment for Raph stepping out of line, but this was probably the least justifiable and most cruel time he did something like that. Just destroying all of a child's hard work and possessions to prove a point.

I was gonna have him crush all of Donnie’s inventions in front of him but I think there’s a different kind of emotion I wanna explore here. The slow, painful realization that your dad walked with you to your room, told you to stand in the doorway, and then stole all your most important things from you. He picked them up carelessly, not minding if they broke in his arms, and you never saw them again. He’s not ever going to give them back, because he didn’t even KEEP what he stole from you. 

So yeah, no one was happy about that. They were pretty small, but it’s hard to forget something like that haha. Leo can still remember how hard and long Donnie sobbed once Splinter left :)

[fishtail-tavra]

Dreamed of 1980’s animated adaptation of Age of Resistance (in the style of the last unicorn) and to be honest it was super fun

They pushed everything into one, hour and a half movie, so a lot of things that were secrets weren’t anymore and the set up got changed to move things right to the climax-

So everyone knows the Skeksis are evil and eating people, but the Skeksis are holding everyone hostage saying the Dark Crystal will die without them (taking all of Thra with it) and THEY will die without Gelfling essence, so from the very start tithes include sacrifices and the retuning of the drained people and

In my dream I cared more about the gays though, meaning Tavra and Onica.

Tavra got introduced arriving late to some big party Mayrin was hosting for the visiting Skeksis- no actually, it was for Brea? Some kind of coming of age thing?- anyway, Tavra trips and falls on her face coming in the doors and everyone’s very O_O; except her sisters who are already running over to say hi

She tripped though bc she saw ONICA in the crowd, disguised, and there were a lot of shots of her in the background during the main action of the party, looking worried and discreetly talking with Totally Not Onica while spilling things on herself absentmindedly or having to get tugged out of the way gently by Onica before she runs into/got run into by someone else

(there’s a morning scene later where we see them in bed together- very PG- both still fully dressed bc Tavra was up most of the night worrying- but Onica is watching Tavra sleep now, reaching out to touch her recently shortened hair (more on that later), and Tavra wakes up from that, smiling, and it’s the first time in the movie we see her really smile so)

In my dream I was mostly busy looking at screen caps and gifs of these two, but there was other changes I had fun with, like BADASS ARCHER NAIA

Naia showing up at the last big battle-

(right before the Skeksis get spooked into unleash the garthim and the clans all scatter desperately hoping at least one Gelfling survives the slaughter long enough to fulfil the Far-Dream that Onica led them into dreaming together blah blah)  

-with this MASSIVE bow, bigger than she is, (lots of cool shots of her arms and back muscles whenever she drew it) and to fire the thing she actually needs to be either standing on something (usually her brother) (or one time both Kylan and Amri stood in for a single Gurjin) or she needs to be airborne

She and Gurjin had this trick where he’d kneel down and she’d run and jump on him, he’d boost her up, and she’d use her wings to slow her fall long enough to get off a shot or two before landing again

She didn’t used it to kill anyone (except Arathim) bc movie Naia still was big on not having the Mystics as collateral damage for stopping the Skeksis,

But she did get a few really dramatic shots- once shattering a Skeksis’s jeweled staff when they were using it to hypnotized and then almost kill someone- and another where (after her own bow got broken) she picks up urVa’s bow (MUCH bigger than hers) and uses her legs while lying on the ground wounded to shoot a flask of essence out of a skeksis hand before they can drink it

In this adaption though Brea is the one who really gets the rebellion kicking, still by reading something, but not a book this time

The movie had Brea going through the trial by wing that her grandmother started as like a coming of age/proof of power to rule kinda thing, where the women who lead the Vapra have to fly the dangerous winds of Raunip’s Pass alone, reach this one high spot where Raunip left an inscription, read it and bring back a stone from the pile siting nearby

This rock pile and inscribed stone is actually the movie version of Lore,

only this time Lore was created by ye oldie Tavra (Raunip’s Friend) to keep her friend Raunip company long after she was dead, and as a way to show no hard feelings for the fight they had over the UrSkeks.

But when Raunip left for the last time (passing through the mountains of Tavra’s home and what would later get named Raunip’s pass) he left Lore behind in the cliffs overlooking Ha’rar, so the Dream-Stitched stone could watch over Tavra’s people even after he was gone

This choked me up every time dream me saw a dream post about it ngl

Anyway, Seladon the 1st, Mayrin, Seladon the 2nd, and Tavra had all just flown up there, seen some old oddly etched rocks, the dedication from Raunip to his friend Tavra, shrugged and grabbed a rock before leaving

(the size of the rock you could manage to haul back was also part of the trial and Seladon was feeling both worried for ‘airheaded’ Brea and insecure knowing her little sister was probably going to bring back a larger stone than Seladon- with her crooked wing- had felt safe carrying)

Only Brea actually takes an interest the ancient writing and the symbols and the odd carvings and she gets distracted clearing away some dirt and rubble

underneath she finds the Dream-Stitching, activates it, gets a lore dump from ye oldie Tavra’s memories AND gets Lore itself to wake up, when it turns out to be able to play recordings of Raunip’s voice etched into stone- Tavra’s real gift to him, a way for him to Dream-Stitch his memories and be remembered even without vliya- so Brea ALSO gets all of RAUNIP’S fears and confessions about his involvement with the second great conjunction and the UrSkeks and the shattering and how things have gone downhill since then and

Brea’s family is getting increasingly worried she’s taking so long, what if she got smashing on the rocks by the winds, what if she’s hurt and needs help-

and the Skeksis get a chance to be evil and manipulative commenting that if Brea isn’t strong enough to follow in her grandmother’s flight path then maybe it’s the will of Thra that she fails this challenge and never comes home

I think I remember this being one of those moments where you can see everyone’s different reactions in a single frame, and it went something like Mayrin: devastated, Seladon: flinching and cringing, Tavra: looking absolutely murderous.

This is when Tavra steps forward and when questioned says she’s going to go look for her sister, since it was the will of Thra that they BE sisters in the first place, and Seladon hesitates before also saying she’ll go with Tavra

But that’s when Brea comes home with an entire rock monster and sort of accidentally starts a rebellion by asking questions, so

The night BEFORE this, the party scene, with the tithing and the prepping Brea for her big day, there had been this moment when the drained Gelflings were returned home, and Mira was one of them

And so Rian had come too, because up until this moment the “crystal anointed” were kept in seclusion, hooded and veiled, to keep a general panic from breaking out, and they only were released back to their own family in the clan they came from

(an information isolation tactic, to help the Skeksis spread rumors of each clan paying more than the other, or of their offered Gelfling being less worthy of the Crystal’s light and THAT’S why they are Like That Now, but the other clans aren’t being effected, no no no it’s totally just you, and you’re also having to give more people because the richer clans are paying more in tithes to send fewer offerings, so really the ones you should be mad at are the OTHER CLANS, not the Skeksis, the Skeksis don’t care how they get their sacrifices, the Skeksis only care about maintaining the Crystal that maintains all life on Thra obviously-)

Rian followed them to Ha’rar (with Gurjin) (and Naia because Naia’s not letting her twin go off into maybe danger without her) to finally reunite with Mira, but she’s been SO badly drained he barely recognizes her and she DOESN’T recognize him,

Cue very sad scene of Rian trying to help her remember, and after a bit she does reach out to dreamfast, like its instinct, only nothing happens, and Naia (the healer) checks and declares she doesn’t have enough vliya to dreamfast with- in fact, she doesn’t have enough to stay alive with, even. She isn’t just old and drained looking. She’s dying.

Rian is horrified, Rian breaks down, Rian shouts at the Skeksis while crying and holding Mira close,

The Skeksis don’t like that and we get a fun dramatic party screeches to a halt scene as the General gets up and draws his sword

Dream me thought it was very fun that Gurjin still got his hero moment, causing a distraction by taking on the castle guards that came here with the Skeksis so Rian could get Mira away

(also callback to the first movie, with a drained and totally out of it Mira still managing to break her and Rian’s fall with her wings when he has to throw them off a cliff)

(he totally thought they were gonna die together and was fine with that)

(instead they land on a Sifa ship and WOOO YEAH TAE AND ETHRI ARE HERE totally not because Oinca had a feeling it would be good and convenient if they parked their ship in this very specific spot)

Back in Ha’rar, Gurjin is captured by the guard, a pissed Naia challenges and fights the general about it

(there was a scene were the Skeksis realize Naia and Gurjin are twins and get Excited about that)

So they make a deal with Naia, if she wins, her brother will go free, if she loses… they both will go to the crystal together.

And while all THIS was happening, BREA ran off to fetch Tavra, who’d slipped away at some point, and runs in on the secret that her big stern sister is very much kissing a Sifa, which these days is Very Very illegal, but Brea’s just shocked to see very serious soldier Tavvra actually kissing anyone-

She remembers to tell Tavra what’s happening at the party, Tavra dives out the nearest window to get there faster, Onica suggests she and Brea take a detour along the way

(the detour is to set up a small tricky sabotage that will let Naia escape in moment)

The first time we see Tavra do anything cool in the movie is when she breaks through a window, sword drawn, and slashes at the General’s hand to make him drop Naia when he has her by the throat

Tavra and the General duel, Naia uses this distraction to attack the guards holding Gurjin and they exit stage right pursued by more guards, Seladon is freaking out and Mayrin calls for Tavra to stand down-

And in the tags of one post about this, ppl talk about how earlier in the movie it was set up how Gelfling don’t normally cut there hair short, since hair is kinda like tree rings or roots to them, so getting rid of it is like throwing away your life up till then and wanting to forget/distance yourself from it

(a thing traditionally associated with criminals, outlaws, Gelflings who went against their families)

BUT lately short hair has ALSO been used by rebels, the rumored Gelflings who refuse to pay tithes or offer up people to the castle

So this scene comes up, Tavra's duel, where the General says something like “blah blah traitorous Vapra, blah, oath breaking Gelfling scum”

And Tavra’s just like, it’s not breaking a vow to defend the people I’ve sworn to protect- which makes the General so mad he tries decapitating her, only she just kneels in response and bows her head-

So the sword cuts off her braid of hair instead. Big crowd reaction shot and gasp

(also revelation that Tavra’s hair is really wavy/curly when it’s short and not tied back, I don’t know why dream me thought that detail was super fun)    

(tags on this post point out that this is kinda like, symbolism of how the Skeksis have being cutting Gelfling’s off from their actual old laws and traditions while making Gelflings bow to them instead)

And the other Skeksis sees this, hears the murmurs and muttering, sees the very bad PR image of a Skeksis about to kill a princess who is kneeling on the floor before him WHILE ALL THEIR PERSONAL GUARDS ARE MISSING and rushes in to pull the General back before he can split Tavra down the middle

The party ends… awkwardly, with the Skeksis placating the crowd by commending Tavra (through gritted beaks) for withstanding their ‘test’ of her loyalty and duty to her vows as a paladin, which they totally did on purpose, never would have actually killed anyone nope

They just barely restrain most of their rage when the guards come back (covered in odd powders that make them sneeze and slipping on boots covered in grease) to report that the three ‘criminals’ have escaped with their ‘abducted’ ‘prisoner’ (Mira)

annnnnnd they’re forced to accept Mayrin’s offer of Tavra leading her soldiers on the search, since they’re the only ones who know Ha’rar well enough to do it

(quick scene of Tavra directing her paladins to search the mountains and the cliffs and the village and the valley, and… no, not the seashore or the coast. Without the help of a Sifa they wouldn’t survive long there and would have to turn inland soon anyway. it’s not like there are any Sifa up here right now. Right? Right.)

I think I also remember that Deet gets introduced while she’s dreamfasting a giant taint-maddened nebrie-

(she can’t heal them, but as long as she’s dreamfasting with them SHE can take on the pain and horror of the taint, and when she sings while doing that they fall peacefully asleep, letting anyone nearby get safely away)

And it turns out she’s been working so hard to find out what’s going on with the tainted creatures of Thra she’s become sensitive to the presence of the taint, AND good enough at listening with her vliya that she can hear and understand what the Trees are saying, even though their voices have almost gone quiet

The trees lost contract with each other as the taint spread (some of them being taken over by it even) so Deet got sent out by her clan’s Tree to contact / warn / bring messages to the other trees and their clans

There was still that cool moment of Kylan dreamstitching the warning onto flower petals and everyone watching them fly off in a cloud so I guess Deet recruited him at some point… or no… maybe that was to summon the clans to what ended up being the big final battle?

I feel like there was a ‘lighting the beacons’ scene where all the clans lit their blue flames and a moment (echoing the opening of the tv show) where we saw their leaders all standing together in dreamfast on a map vision of Skarith land, reaching out to each other around a shared blue fire….

Anyway taking on the suffering of the taint was slowly tainting Deet herself, and she kept lashing out in pain more, or getting lost in the nightmare visions of the crystal’s breaking  

She got one cool scene at the end though.

After the Gelfling come together to Far-Dream the prophecy of how the Skeksis might fall and the Skeksis see this and, in a panic, unleash all their Garthim before they can even control them properly, leading to many Gelfling being killed instead of captured for draining-

Deet is one of the ones caught and brought back to be drained, but she’s laughing when they strap her into the draining chair, and when she calls out,

all the tainted creatures she’s helped over the movie wake up in time to cause havoc on any nearby garthim-

and so do the Trees, reconnected briefly THROUGH the spreading taint BY Deet as she’s being DRAINED by the crystal, and the connection lasts just long enough for their roots to soak up as much of the taint as they can while tearing up the ground around the castle, breaking the crystal (and the taint’s) direct connection to the rest of Thra-

The trees all die, burning up in a last blaze of vliya along with Deet, but the tainted creatures aren't tainted anymore, and outside the barren land around the castle everything else starts growing in healthy again

Turns out it was the world that was feeding life to the crystal, not the other way around

(another skeksis lie)

Which makes the skeksis ultra SUPER unhappy the garthim rampage killed off so many useful Gelflings before their essence could be drained

The stinger ending was Kylan finishing writing all this down and hiding the book just before garthim burst in, the shot of his hand desperately tucking the book away-

-jump cutting to Jen’s hand gently pulling it’s crumbling pages out of hiding who knows how many trine later

Final shot being a slow pull back and pan out of Jen calling to Kira about what he found, and her excitedly calling back that she thinks a small nearby sapling might have just talked to her, so maybe he could read the book aloud to both of them?

end credits roll over the scene as Jen reads and Kira clears away weeds from a young baby tree, while fizzgig gets chased around the clearing by a whole pack of little angry baby fizzgigs

And that’s it, that’s the movie adaption that doesn’t exist but I got to be in the fandom of for a few glorious minutes

The last unicorn animation style REALLY went well with the vibes. loved it.

[soulc-hilde]

The Library

Note: I've been kind of AWOL after putting out a couple of works, but it wasn't on purpose - I promise! Between working everyday and debating if I want to give college another try, things have been hectic but new chapters will be posted soon!

Pairing: Sokka x Beifong! OC

Synopsis: Takes place during ATLA episode, The Library. Taking mini vacations, Sokka flips out over his need to wrap his hands around a map of the Fire Nation. Thanks to the mysterious words and well detailed map of Professor Zei, the group discovers the mysterious Wan Shi Tong's Library; however, at what costs?

After teaching Aang how to earthbend, the young Avatar had suggested everyone to choose their own mini vacation. As the sole purpose of the group, the monk had decided on some mountains without explaining why.

The boy sits cross legged and in front of them, the land was lined with holes. He holds the flute in his hands, waiting on something. "What's out there," Sokka questions. Toph bends down, her hand laying flat in the dirt.

"A lot, actually," she answers, "there's hundred of little--" Aang silences her, "shh! Don't ruin the surprise. Just watch." Looking back toward the field, he blows a note into the flute and a groundhog pops up and mimicks the note.

The Avatar continues, shifting from high notes to low. With each pitch that was played, a groundhog appeared to replicate it. While Aang was enjoying himself, Sokka was over it and had reached his limit. The teen plugs his finger into the end of the instrument with a frown.

"This is great and all," he chides, "but don't we have more important things to worry about? We should be making plans."

Aang argues back, "we did make plans. We're all picking mini vacations." Sokka grunts, "there's no time for vacations."

"I'm learning the elements as fast as I can. I practice hard every day with the girls," the boy explains, "I've been training my arrow off!" Sokka scoffs, "so have I, but you don't see me complaining."

Katara steps up, "what's wrong with having a little fun in our down time?" Sokka ignores her, glaring down at the airbender. "Even if you do master all of the elements, then what? It's not like we have a map of the Fire Nation."

He points his arms into the wind, "should we just head west until we reach the Fire Lord's house?" Sarcastically, he pretends to knock on an imaginary door, "knock, knock. Hello? Fire Lord? Anybody home?"

Breaking character he faces the group again, "I don't think so. We need some intelligence if we're going to win this war." Irritated, Aang plays a note and a groundhog appears under the Water Tribe boy.

Katara rolls her eyes, "alright. We'll finish our vacations and then we'll look for Sokka's intelligence." The others laugh at the siblings' quid. Aang opens a map, jumping to his feet before showing it to Katara.

"Your turn, Katara," he grins, "where would you like to go on your mini vacation?" The waterbender looks with a hum before pointing at a small spot that was drawn with ice.

"How about the Misty Palm Oasis?" She suggests, "that sounds refreshing." Aang nods, "oh yeah, I've been there. It's a pristine natural ice spring and I usually don't use the word 'pristine', it's one of nature's wonders."

After a few minutes of traveling, the Oasis was no longer in 'pristine' condition anymore. Instead it was littered and home to shady sandbenders as well as a small little shop.

Aang awkwardly laughs, "must've changed ownership since I was here." Riki smirks, "sure, kid. Sure."

The group walks further into the Oasis and the withering sign falls. They pass what used to be the ice spring, now just a patch of snow. Entering the small bar, one of the sandbenders spit at Sokka feet. Watching the teen snarl with irritation, he smirks at the idea of starting a brawl.

Before the Water Tribe boy could lunge, a strong brown hand snatches him away. He looks down to see that his rescue was at the hands -- literally -- of Riki, who continues inside without a fault. Inside, the bar was filled with travelers of weary health and appearance unlike the man who stood tall at the counter.

"One mango, please," he orders with foreign mannerisms. Sokka watches the bartender slice and mash the fruit into a juice before sweeping it inside the chiseled bowl.

The teen smiles, "I don't see anything wrong with having one of thos fruity beverages while we plan our strategy." He runs over to the bartender, the others following. As the foreign man turns around with his bowl, he accidentally slams into Aang.

Unbothered, the boy smiles, "no worries, I clean up easy." Without a thought, he airbends the substance off of his robes. The man gasps, "you're a living relic."

Aang shrugs, "thanks, I try." The man continues, "an Air Nomad right in front of me." He bows, "Professor Zei, Head of Anthropology at Ba Sing Se University."

He snatches Aang's arm, holding it to his eyes. Just as Aang was forced to lean on his toes from the force, the ground beneath the professor shifts and pushes him back a few steps. The two turn to see a glaring Riki.

"Watch it, professor," she growls.

Since chaotically meeting Aang and his friends, as well as joining them along with her sister, the elder Beifong had willingly took on the responsibility for the group -- particularly the youngest ones. At first, it wasn't too much trouble since her first experience was with Toph but after meeting the boy's continuous list of enemies created a sense of paranoia for her.

It doesn't help that he tends to use airbending out of habit... and his mortal compass marks even the craziest people as 'friendly.'

Zei continuous his rant of questions, measuring the boy's head, "tell me, which of the Air Temples do you hail from?" Aang answers, "the Southern Temple."

The professor gasps, "oh, splendid! Now, tell me, what was the primary agricultural product of your people?" With a raised eyebrow, the boy replies, "uh, are fruit pies an agricultural product?"

"Oh, truly fascinating," Zei grins, "that is one for the journal."

After conversing with the weird man, the group -- Sokka -- made their mini vacation about finding Wan Shi Tong's Library and the Professor had joined their journey. As Appa soars, peacefully, the professor continuously admires the bison's fur.

Toph huffs, slouching over the saddle, "does this place even exist?" The professor looks over, "some say it doesn't." Her glazed over eyes widen, "shouldn't you have mentioned that before." The twelve year old grunts, falling back into her older sister's lap.

Once again, time passes and no library in sight. Toph sits up, pointing outwards, "there it is!" The others crowd around the sisters with anticipation, but the two laugh.

"That's what it'll sound like when one of you spots it," Toph teases, waving her hand in front of her face with a smile. The others delfate in disappointment while Riki gives her a high five.

The eldest of the group looks at them, shrugging, "it shouldn't be this hard to spot a giant building from the air. Especially one as huge as it's described to be." Riki points at the drawing

Sokka looks out with a telescope before pointing into the abyss of sand. "Down there," he calls out. He leans forward, "what's that?" Aang guides Appa down to it.

On landing, everyone jumps off and watch as Katara pulls out the library blueprint once again. She shakes her head, "forget it. It's obviously not what we're looking for. The building in this drawing is enormous."

Riki takes a look at the blueprints before smiling, "no, it is the library! It's just completely buried and there's one of those foxes," she points. They all watch as the fox mindlessly climbs to point of the building and leaps through the small window.

The professor runs to the point, shoveling at the sand with a hand shovel. "My life's ambition is now full of sand," he sighs, "well, time to start excavating."

The others look at him in ridicule as Toph slams her hand into the pointe. "Actually, that won't be necessary," she explains, "the inside seems to be completely intact and it's huge!"

Sokka nods, "that fox thingy went in through a window. I say we climb up there and give it a look." Toph crosses her arms, "I say, you guys go without me."

"You got something against libraries?" Katara raises a brow. Riki's jaw clenches as Toph replies, sarcastically, "I've held books before and I gotta tell you, they don't exactly do it for me."

Katara turns sheepish, "oh, right. Sorry." Riki side-eyes her, "are you?" Not wanting things to escalate, Toph smirks, "let me know if they have something you can listen to."

As the others begin to climb inside, Sokka turns around when he notices Riki wasn't climbing the rope. "Riki," he calls, "aren't you coming?"

The teen shakes her head, "I'll be the look out with Toph. It may seem empty, but those sandbenders can be anywhere." He simply nods in understanding, "we'll be back," he promises before disappearing.

As time drowns on in the heat, Toph sits in the sand as Riki plays catch with the flying bison. Bending the sand to point upwards on one end and once again on the next, Riki softly smiles as Appa fails at catching it.

The fun comes to an end once the ground beneath them quakes. Looking over, the girls gasp as the library begins to sink. "No!" They shout, charging for the pillar.

Slamming their hands into the earthy wall, they fight with gritted teeth to at least slow it down long enough for the others to escape. Toph, aggravated at her slipping, hardens the sand around her feet before going back to holding up the pillar.

Appa roars, alerting them of unwanted company. "What now," Toph grunts. "Sandbenders," Riki answers. "Focus on the pillar, I'll handle them."

Not waiting for a reply, the older Beifong charges towards Appa. Launching over the bison, she lands on her knees and shoves her hands under the sand. Creating quicksand, a few of the sand sailors are swallowed by their own element.

The others that made it use their strength in numbers against the teen and the bison. Hearing the pained grunts of her sister and terrified roars from Appa, Toph tries to send her own quick blasts into the fight. Unlike her sister, she was unfamiliar with the sandy form of earth and missed each hit.

Forced to focus on the pillar, the young girl cries softly as the sounds of fighting go silent and in turn one of the thugs ordering the fleet to leave. Feeling the lack of their presence, she shakes her head, "I'm sorry, guys. I'm so sorry."

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.218 thoughts

[We Have a Title]

(Contents: Immediate reactions - excitement, character analysis - Ruin; thematic analysis - unity; speculation - Ruin/arc progression)

Hype

I think I've made it clear that I'm not a fan of hype. I don't like when expectations are constantly being built up and blown out of proportion, as that can only lead to disappointment. I much prefer a pleasant surprise where I can be proportionally excited with what's happening in the moment rather than allowing the pressure to build beyond what can be reasonably maintained

UU doesn't usually have a spoiler problem, at least not in my personal circles, so I was surprised that there was someone passing around leaks for this chapter. I managed to avoid them, and boy am I glad I did, cus this was the hypest god damn chapter in the whole run so far

Ruin's comeback, Fuuko's brutal display, and of course, Andy's return! I've said a thousand times that Tozuka is a master of iconic panel composition, and not only were there a ton of great panels here, but that final two-pager was just absolutely sick!

Fuuko's hair fluttering in the wind, Andy's blazing descent from the sun, the symbol of Fuuko's Unluck pinned to Ruin's back by the symbol of Juiz's Unjustice, the Sun and Moon both positioned at the top of the page as if watching on as everything unfolds. This is the end of an era and the beginning of a new one - no longer is Fuuko the lone leader of the Union, her right hand is returning to usher in the final phase, and everyone is bearing witness, the heavens themselves shining a spotlight on this momentous occasion

I kid you not, I was shaking when I realized what Fuuko was doing, and it took everything I had not to scream and jump with excitement when Fuuko dropped what will no doubt become her most iconic line in the series (my wife was still asleep, I didn't want to wake her). If I'd seen any spoilers, my realtime reaction would have been split up between knowing what happens out of context and then seeing it in context, and neither would have been nearly as fun, so I'm so glad I got to have the experience I did

Ruin

Onto the chapter itself, I definitely wasn't expecting to see Ruin this soon. I thought for sure we'd get a breather chapter or two to hang out with Tatiana, but I think Ruin is a character we can make an exception for

The first time Ruin showed up during the falling action of an arc, it felt a little like drama for drama's sake at first; I got over it pretty quickly, since it was clearly being used as a narrative device for transitioning into the next phase, but I could understand if people felt like a new character being introduced as a game changer is a bit of an asspull

This time, though, Ruin doing that is a callback to his introduction, an established modus operandi for the character to serve as an explicit agent of the narrative towards...well, ruin. Frankly I would have been disappointed if he'd come back any other way, as this way allows us to see the difference in how the Union responds to him

Before, no one saw him coming, and Fuuko got killed for it. Now, while no one was "ready" for him, Fuuko was able to react in time to make sure that no one died and then even got to retaliate in a way that demonstrated shocking level-headedness in the face of her own killer. Whereas Andy struck in a blind rage without any concern for what kind of ability Ruin might have, Fuuko immediately and brutally removed his head with the intention of inhibiting his regeneration. She was wrong, of course, but she made a conscious effort to win the fight rather than simply reacting on instinct as Andy did

While Chikara and Gina did end up getting hurt, they're not dead and likely not permanently wounded either (corneal damage is perfectly healable, it's retinal damage we'd need to worry about). Ruin is still very much a credible threat, but the Union of today is not the Union of yesterday, and they're definitely fit to overcome the so-called King of Negators

Ruin's Redesign

That said, I am left to wonder if the Ruin of today is the one of yesterday. His design has undergone some interesting changes, all of which completely incongruent with his own ability

Not only is his hair shorter, it's also lost color on one side, and the scar over his left eye has started to spread down his torso and arm, almost like it's metastisizing. Unruin's name implies it's supposed to keep its user perfect and pristine, but Ruin himself has only gotten worse for ware over the course of the loop. I'm wondering if this is a side effect of Unruin, like the more he uses it the more corrupt his body becomes, and it isn't negated by Unruin specifically because it's the cost of the ability and therefore the proper judgment of God or something

The fact that his hair has started to lose color further cements the parallels between him and Andy. Previously he just had the scar over the same eye, but now his hair has become short and slicked back, split between black and white while his scar creates a delineation in his skin tone, not unlike when Andy's personality reemerged from his Remember wound when Victor was in control of their body. The scar moving down the left side of his body also means it now covers the areas of Andy's 1985 and DEAD END tattoos, suggesting that perhaps his personal journey that we haven't been privy to is a parallel to Andy's after waking up from his own grave

Speaking of tattoos...I haven't seen anyone mention that Ruin is missing his Sun tattoo. What this means is unclear, but if I had to guess, it's a sign that Ruin does not currently occupy the role of Regulator. He hasn't been "chosen" by God yet, which I think suggests that this isn't L100 Ruin crossing between loops, it's L101 Ruin, whose life hasn't quite taken the same path as it did before. This might even explain his body - L100 Ruin told us he was sickly, so perhaps L101 Ruin simply got Unruin later this time around. Perhaps that scar is the deterioration of his body from his illness prior to gaining Unruin, and therefore either outside of the ability's purview or, again, seen as God's will and therefore not an imperfection

Ruin's fighting style also seems to be a bit different, as not only does he not seem to be making blood claws or moving through shadows, he also removed his shirt (which was UMA Blood last time) without turning it into some kind of construct first, suggesting that he doesn't have Blood or Shadow with him this time around. Instead, he seems to be fighting more like Andy, using his Soul to fire his own blood as a weapon, as evidenced by the fact that his fingernails were bleeding after attacking the Union

It's definitely possible that I'm misinterpreting it, but I have to imagine that this is a new Ruin being manipulated by Soul rather than the same Ruin going about business as usual. We'll most likely get that answered for us next week, so I wanted to get my speculations out of the way now

Ruin's Future

So if Ruin doesn't have his UMA friends with him and isn't a Regulator, what does that mean for his role going forward?

I don't think any of you will be surprised to hear that my thinking is that he's going to join the Union, as I've been speculating that for a long time and other folks have definitely followed suit since. I am saddened by the idea that he won't have his companions with him, but they could easily serve as an upgrade/character moment for him later, so I'll take it for now

The main crux of my thinking right now is that Ruin is clearly poised to undergo a character arc. As I said, he's starting to resemble Andy more and more and Victor less and less, suggesting that he's going to transition from being the one Negator that serves God and become the final Negator that opposes him

If the Union is a collective of the oppressed rising up against their oppressor, then Ruin is a bootlicker who fell for the propaganda that there was nothing he could do to resist the powers that be and joined them out of a sense of learned helplessness. The idea that Tozuka or Fuuko would see someone so brainwashed that they embrace their own enslavement and just leave them to blissfully suffer their fate runs pretty antithetical to the story we've been told so far, so I think it's far more likely that the coming chapters will be used a way to change Ruin's mind and teach him that he has the agency to live for himself and not live as the cultish servitude of a God he's never met and who clearly is willing to sacrifice him at a moment's notice

When Fuuko said there was still one member left to recruit, obviously she meant Andy, but the timing of that statement immediately preceding her noticing Ruin seems quite deliberate. Andy isn't present, sure, but for all intents and purposes, he's already part of the Union. He doesn't need to be recruited, just retrieved, and that could feasibly happen at any time since Andy could probably just decide to come back on his own. Instead, Ruin is the only Negator that still needs to be shown which side is correct, so while Fuuko may not know it, she was most likely talking about him, not Andy

Even her line about completing the Union with Andy's return can be left open to interpretation, as the act of his returning could either complete the Union with his arrival or with his help in proving the lie that Ruin believes in to be wrong

Of course, I don't think that can happen with just Andy showing up; rather, I think that the most recent additions of Tatiana and Kururu ideally would play a part to help flesh out their inclusions, though I wouldn't object to Julia getting Unjustice here. If absolutely nothing else, I'm banking on Chikara using Unmove, eyes or no eyes. What better time to learn how to use his soul to overcome his weaknesses than when he literally doesn't have eyes?

Unity

Whoever participates in fighting Ruin, I'm kind of hoping it ends up being a Summer or a Sick situation, where the group is so well coordinated that they basically just combo Ruin to hell and back. While the alternative of either Andy soloing Ruin or Andy and Fuuko tag-teaming him would be sick as hell, it wouldn't do much to further the themes of unity overcoming oppression, so it'd be much better for everyone involved to get to participate

Like I said before, the Union serves as a symbol of overcoming oppression through unification, so we can't have one or two members carrying everyone else - they all need to contribute to the whole, at least in some small way. After all, that's what Soul is afraid of, the Union having enough members to overcome anything that's thrown at them

Given the current political climate, Fuuko's retort to Ruin's claim that humanity has no hope of beating God struck a chord with me.

"It's the opposite. They're afraid of the Union being complete. The Ten Superior Rules normally only intervene during Quests. The mere fact that they've sent you here as an assassin is proof that they're panicking."

Union-busting, voter suppression, gerrymandering; those in power make a concerted effort to ensure that the masses believe that opposition is useless by removing every means of opposition available to them, but the message it should send is actually the reverse. Why are they taking away the means of opposition if opposition is useless? If it wouldn't work, why do they care? Why not let us struggle in vain until we learn on our own that it's pointless to try, that we're wasting our time?

Because we're not wasting our time. Our struggles may seem pointless, taking years and years, generation after generation, but change is inevitable. A stone is not split in two by the final blow, but the hundred that had gone before. So long as humanity perseveres, we move ever closer to happiness, even if the path there is arduous

Every loop, the Union has managed to hold back Sun from destroying Ark. And yet, the Regulators were new to Juiz in the 100th. Sun's most direct agents, with the ability to permanently remove players from the game, only became a problem at the end. Why? Because the Union isn't the only one running out of time

If Sun managed to destroy Ark even once in the last 100 loops, the game would be over, just as it would be if Juiz had managed to kill Sun, but neither of them have succeeded. Which is to say, both sides have reason to be desperate, to be feeling the pressure now. And between the two, only one has been getting stronger, by amassing more allies

Meanwhile, Soul's the only one who seems to think of his team as friends. He mourned the loss of Beast and Language, he offered to keep major enemies alive for the sake of Change and War's whims, and he tried to enable his entire team to escape Andy's defenses by rallying them to work together. The rest of the Master Rules, though?

Infighting for who gets which seat, abandoning Soul when he was trying to benefit everyone, insisting on taking glory for themselves. Everything that God designed the Roundtable system to do to the Union, it ended up doing to the Master Rules instead; it divided them, when it should have unified them

Just like Ruin is a demonstration of the Negators falling for God's propaganda, the Master Rules are a demonstration of the Union falling prey to the rigged system. Fortunately, the Union are Negators; the Rules were never going to be a problem for them in the first place, now were they?

Soul

Of course, since Soul is the only one to actually be trying to operate as a team player, naturally he's taken all of this into account already. Sure, the Union's about to be complete, but we all saw him smiling as Andy finally left his post

Soul's plan was never to have Ruin kill off the Union, though it would have been nice if he had; no, his plan was to get Andy's crispy, bare ass off of his goddamn house!

With Ruin attacking, Andy is a must for fending him off, so Fuuko was forced to bring him back. Now that he's gone, the Master Rules aren't restricted by his soul, and can leave the Master Room whenever they please (though they may still be restricted to acting during Quests, it's somewhat unclear). What this means that while the Union is complete, so too is their opposition

Really that's the perfect scenario, though. The Union has to beat back all of the Master Rules sooner or later anyway, so why not just make it a battle royale, huh? A bit more of a traditional shonen battle format, like with the fight against Under during the Spring Arc. And I'm willing to bet Fuuko considered that when deciding to bring back Andy

Speculation

With Andy's return and the Master Rules set free, we're just about to enter what I presume to be the penultimate phase of the story, as all that will be left after defeating the MRs is to face the Gods. I don't know how Tozuka plans to pace this, whether it's going to be a free-for-all like I said or if the MRs are going to have individual arcs with some breather chapters in between, but it's clear that we're moving into the endgame

Personally, I'm hoping for the latter. I shudder to think that that brief moment of Tatiana looking at Chikara's photo of her is the last bit of downtime we'll get before the epilogue, but it's definitely possible. After all, after Spring we had the Final Cherry Blossom Viewing, and then suddenly we were dealing with Revolution and Ragnarok. If we're going to have another high-tension, no-breaks stretch like that, Ruin's return is the most appropriate time for it

That said, I wouldn't hate it. That was a super exciting time, and some of the best story beats in the whole series came up during that storyline, so I have faith Tozuka can handle it just fine. I just want to see some more chill moments, y'know? Especially since Andy's coming back! No one knows him yet! We need him to reestablish his dynamics with everyone!

I want him to be happy to see everyone! I want memories to stir in Yusai's soul of a love long lost! I want Gina to see what her past self saw and angle for a triad with Fuuko! I want Julia to see Victor in Andy and form a bond with him as an altered soul!

Rip, Billy, Shen, Feng, Nico, hell even Void - there's so many opportunities for resolving rivalries and grudges, I need Tozuka to give us at least a couple of them before we hurtle into the endgame and no one has time to say anything fun to each other ever again!

But I suppose I'm looking a little too far ahead. We still need to deal with Ruin right now, and after that we should be seeing how everyone reacts to Remember. Hm, I wonder if maybe we're going to have an entire Remember Arc, actually, like a macro-version of Gina going into Fuuko's book and meeting her past self? I'm not gonna hold my breath for that, but that'd be a neat way to extend the runtime while also finding a perfect excuse to get some more characterization for everyone

Until next time, let's enjoy life!