#but shes getting so so bony and is having a harder time moving around to even fet up into her cat tree ;-;

[alexa-fika]

Ohh if you going to write Platonic reader

how about a male reader who's part of the straw hats and his devil fruit power is that he can talk and use dead people to fight (like Klaus from The Umbrella Academy)

he has a best friend who died but he talks to him all the time so he's never alone (like Klaus and Ben from The Umbrella Academy)

Gone but still there (Strawhats x male!reader)

A/N: I had to change it a little bit since im bot comfortable with the whole controlling dead people to fight nor I think the strawhats would be too happy about that but I made this instead, hopefully it is somewhat appealing to what you envisioned! It is not very good, I would say this one is a flop :(

Dividers by @/saradika

“Okay, are we ready?” Reader exclaims, staring at his crewmates around him. Robin and Nami sat at a table nearby, with Sanji bringing them both snacks and compliments. Zoro sat down in his favorite corner, eyes closed, with Chopper standing close to him; Luffy sat at the head of the Sunny as usual, with Franky and Ussop sitting together, tinkering with some gadgets they had. Jinbe sat at the boat's wheel, keeping watch of the course ahead, Brook standing nearby with his violin.

He looked up at the reader, smiling and waving his bony hand in excitement

“Yes! Im excited to hear what Doctor Hiriluk has to say this time.”

“Yohohoho, and im excited to hear what new songs my old crew-mates have learned since the last time we spoke.”

He smiles

“I promise I’ll go around with everyone!”

He sweatdrops staring at the small girl next to him

“Umm Zoro, I think Kuina really wants to say some things to you…”

His eyes open, and he walks over

"What did you want, Kuina?" he said with a bit of annoyance

He laughs nervously

“she said your form was off in your last fight, that only an idiot would make such a mistake.”

He sighed and shook his head a bit

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he said sarcastically and started moving back to his corner

He sighs

“This is going to be a long one…Ah, Nami, Bellemere says you shouldn’t be hitting your crewmates.”

She gives a small sigh

"Well, when they don't listen, it's what happens. Thanks for the message." She said while fixing her bangs gently as she took a bite from her apple

"Robin You're mom says you should look up the Old Signs? Uh she says that the second part gives some interesting views on cryptography?"

"Hmm I will look into it, thank you for the suggestion"

“What about my Mom?” Ussop questions, glancing at Reader

“She says you should be more careful with your experiments; she hates to see you get hurt when one of them goes wrong.”

He chuckles softly at that

“I’m not a little kid anymore, though…”He said before he fell quiet and went about working with his tools

He cackles at what the crew can only guess is something one of the ghosts has said

“Ussop~ Your mom says you will always be her little baby.”

“That’s what she said?!” His hand froze on the tool in front of him as the other slowly wiped away his sweat, his eyes wide in shock and even some embarrassment at his mother’s words

He can’t help but laugh even harder at Ussop's embarrassment; he glances to the side as his laughs die down, now just chuckles escaping him as he smiles gently at his crew and all the one-sided conversations they were having with their loved ones, every once in a while he would step in to deliver a message to them. Still, even if it was one-sided, none of them cared, happily chatting with their loved ones, knowing they were there, listening to them.

Okay I was honestly debating if to put this one on a timer and then delete it but I think I smoothed it out at the end, but still debating that one.

[mandyyvibes]

7! for Stucky, please! :D 💙

7- stucky; a kiss to shut them up

“Did you know that the scientific name for mandarin oranges is Citrus Reticulata?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, overwhelmed with emotion and affection for the boy curled up next to him. This was the first Christmas morning since he lost his Ma, which was harder on him than he could ever put into words. But he’d woken up to the front door closing softly, and Bucky trying to be sneaky as he tiptoed in with a whole sack of oranges.

After a month of lamenting over how expensive they were, and gentle teasing about how they were going to get scurvy like pirates, Bucky had brought him oranges for Christmas.

Bucky had then climbed back into bed next to him, warming him better than fancy electric heat ever could, and started rambling off every relevant piece of trivia he knew.

“Are we gonna keep talking about the oranges, or are we gonna eat them?” Steve asked, voice muffled where he had his face resting against the top of Bucky’s hair. The smell of his hair product lingered despite the morning bedhead. It was a smell that Steve had come to associate with Bucky, despite the thousands of other men who probably smelled the same.

“I was trying to build the anticipation,” There was a coy smile in Bucky’s voice.

Steve sat up properly so that he could see the beautiful smile, and so he could retrieve an orange from the bag set at the foot of the bed and get to peeling.

Bucky looked like a damn angel with his white undershirt against sunshine-golden skin, dark hairs loose against his forehead. Steve found himself watching his lips as he spoke, not really processing what he was saying as he floated off into a hazy daydream, one where he could kiss sweet orange juice off of those soft pink lips.

“-from China, all the way on the other side of the world. I swear it’s true, I read it in a book. Are you listening, Stevie? Are you alright?”

Steve blinked and coughed a few times, out of habit more than any current ailment.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Steve’s bony fingers worked deftly across the orange peel in an attempt to remove it all in one piece, taking extra care over the parts that tried to stick, even though it made his joints ache.

Bucky was talking still, off the subject of oranges entirely, going on about some fantasy story that he had read recently. Steve’s tongue darted out from between his lips, wetting them, then licking the tart and sticky substance off of his own fingers.

Bucky wrinkled his nose.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Steve quipped back, pulling off a section of the orange and offering it to Bucky.

Bucky leaned forward to take it out of Steve’s hand with his teeth, eyes glinting in a way that knocked the wind out of Steve. His lips ghosted across Steve’s thumb and holy hell, they were softer than they looked.

Desire festered deep in Steve’s stomach, sending goosebumps across his arms. He quickly put another slice into Bucky’s mouth, recoiling his fingers quickly as if scared of Bucky’s lips.

“And in Chinese culture oranges represent good luck, and prosperity,” Bucky continued even around a mouthful of fruit. “Do you feel lucky yet?”

“I dunno,” Steve took a piece for himself, relishing in the burst of sweet citrus across his tongue. A stray droplet of juice ran down his chin.

Before he could move to wipe it away, Bucky’s hand was on his face. The work-calloused fingers were gentle against his pale skin.

Steve thought his heart might stop beating. He was going to go into cardiac arrest right then and there, and then Christmas would be ruined.

“Thanks, Buck.”

“Your face is red, are you alright? Do you have a fever?”

Steve nearly choked. “I think I’m okay…my circulation. Or something. Probably.”

“Oh. Here,” Bucky pulled the blanket off of his own lap and draped it across Steve’s shoulders, already starting on another tangent. “Dad has to work today, but Mom wants to bring the girls over later, she’s bringing dinner. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them, huh? Alice is so big now, nearly as tall as you-“

“Buck,”

He just laughed, putting his hands up. “Okay, I won’t give you any crap about your size. But-“

“Buck,” Steve sighed, growing frustrated that he couldn’t get a word in. His annoyance and the way that Bucky’s plush lips formed a pretty, kissable pout had his stomach turning over.

“Stevie,” Bucky mimicked his breathless tone, nudging his knee affectionately. “I-“

“Shut up,” Steve groaned, and it felt like something finally broke within him. It was sort of like when he snapped and threw the first punch, except so much sweeter.

Before he could process what he was doing he was moving, placing both hands on Bucky’s bare shoulders and pulling him in. And then they were kissing fervently, and Bucky was making this delicious groaning sound in the back of his throat, lips parting to allow Steve’s tongue inside.

Steve knew that Bucky was a good kisser, had seen girls go weak in the knees from his kisses. He knew what he was doing, but he let Steve take the lead anyway. And if the noise that he was making was any indication, he didn’t mind sitting back and let Steve kiss him stupid. m

Steve sucked sticky orange juice off of Bucky’s bottom lip, and then sucked on it some more, only pulling away when it was visibly kiss-swollen and Bucky was breathing hard.

Steve sat back, putting some space between them, and slowly withdrew his hands, folding them in his lap. They shook with the adrenaline of it all.

“I…I’m gonna be insufferable if you’re gonna do that every time I piss you off,” Bucky managed finally, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide eyes. “Or was that your way of thanking me for the oranges?”

Steve felt so much lighter, knowing he could kiss Bucky, like he’d been carrying tension and he didn’t even realize it.

“Both, I guess. And merry Christmas,” Steve gave him a wide grin and leaned in once again to plant a peck on his flushed cheek.

[naddpod-encounter-tourney]

Cerenysus:

We begin in the Autumn Ring, with Irina’s mind poisoned by the corruption on the ritual by her sister, Heradecia.

She summons living spells and tries to turn Fia into a book. Fia finally uses the time stop scroll and uses it to buff herself to hell. Zirk invisibly fires from behind Irina. Hank stays consistent. Heradecia teleports out.

We then find the Hexbuds, approaching the scorched grove where they can find her surrogate mother. They share an intense closed-loop hug, and turn to face her. Jabari stays back. Tarragon gets close. Corbeaux gets trapped by bony hands. They move around the space, taking damage for each other and attempting to stop her spells. 3 soldiers, capable of fighting like 300. The Hexblood Centurions.

Back in Autumn, Hank goes down because he’s the only one visible. Irina strikes while he’s down, taking a death save. And, as @theatricuddles sent me in an ask, Fia only turns to strike Irina after that moment.

After many rounds of battle, Irina is finally unconscious, thanks to a soft finish by Fia. She is held in Fia’s arms, as Zirk prepares to take off the crown. Fia says, "Foolish tenderness, but I'm going to cast Sanctuary on Irina". (thanks to @theatricuddles for the quote reminder). In the words of Murph, “we’re leaving it up to a Caldwell roll.” No one stays sitting in the two-dio. Zirk comes close. Makes a deal with a winter fairy. Fails again. Dies. At some point, Lou Wilson stands up from the table and puts his head against a closet.

Jabari is put under a banishment spell, and Tarragon and Corbeaux have a difficult time taking her on just the two of them. Jabari realizes he’s in a bad place when the toads are wet, and works hard to get himself out.

Henry is given a chance to get the crown. Fia tells him not to. She sees what protecting Irina has cost her and cannot let it continue. “You were my dream for so fucking long and I. I’m going to miss you so much.” Henry refuses. He takes the risk. He gets the crown. Zirk is revivified by Fia. Irina, back in control of herself, teleports them to her sister.

Hank gets some hits on Heradecia. Corbeaux nearly goes down, and is saved by Tarragon’s Death Ward. Jabari screamed “let’s kill her” upon his return, and is able to do just that, trisecting her.

The Hexbuds return to Outerborough. Jabari becomes Chancellor. The Hexbloods become his cabinet. They have a ritual to atone their mother.

The Third Mates assign Bukvar to sort the souls and make sure no one gets stuck waiting, as souls had been for years. Hank gets his divorce. Zirk works harder on the all-cure. They get their boat, and head to sea. Irina and Fia make it official.

One Big Bed:

The beginning is so soft and beautiful. Carrying Balnor back to the ship to rest after the Raise Dead. Budler framing Hardwon’s tasteful nude drawings and hanging them in the captain’s quarters. Lucanus putting the bubble back up around Gladeholm, and Moonshine sniffing out his magic. Moonshine making sure to help people because she doesn’t know how else to deal with everything. The apology tour by everyone who had attacked the Boobs while they were corrupted. Cobb’s apology.

Bev’s dad using Balnor as a speakerphone in the night to talk to Bev and bless his sword so he could smite with necrotic damage. Bev IV also taking time to heal Balnor while he was in there, making sure the resurrection aftermath was smoother for him. Calling Balnor Bev’s stepdad.

Moonshine and Meemaw heading back to the Crick. Seeing it can be beautiful even in the aftermath of a cataclysm. Finding the bullywugs in the GrandMaw Tree. “How long do half-elves live?” and the whole conversation that follows. “I guess, if I’m being honest, I just don’t know what it’s gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to find out what that feels like.” Meemaw telling Moonshine to go catch nannerflies so she could zealous trance, allowing her to get a brief moment of childhood.

Jaina and Nerman trying to kidnap Hardwon for a party, and Hardwon resisting them too hard. McGannis naming him king for a day, and giving him a traditional dwarven send-off.

The Green Teens insisting on a jamboreen in a year. Deciding to go prank Denny. Failing horribly. The bullywug scuba suits as disguises. Nearly killing Denny by throwing him out a window.

Moonshine casting animal shapes on the whole party. All the dwarves wanting to be ducks. Jaina approaching Hardwon to make sure it was cool if she romanced Moonshine. The very suspicious way he said nothing was going on between them. “That’s one of the reasons why I fucking worship her”. Finally getting to have a moment himself with a suspiciously recognizable dwarf.

Luna finding Bev when she thought he was in trouble. Noting that Hardwon and Moonshine were “busy”. “Are they in danger?!?” “How old are you?”. Finding out where Thiala is headed.

Ending the night, all together again, in One Big Bed.

Moonshine waking up to cast spells on everyone. The send off they all tried to avoid. The smiles fading as soon as they were out of sight from the general population. Ready for war.

[hopeamarsu]

The Moon in May - Waxing Moon

Javier Peña (no pairing)

Word count 1k

Warnings An attempt at spooky was made, a tiny bit of body horror, biting, attack, ambiguous lore, blood

Summary His side ached painfully and Javier could feel the blood ooze out from the bite wound just under his ribcage and between his fingers.

A/N The second Moon in May fic is finished. This one doesn't have a pairing and it's not strictly within the werewolf lore/realm but it's definitely something supernatural. I hope you enjoy.

His side ached painfully and Javier could feel the blood ooze out from the bite wound just under his ribcage and between his fingers. It was sticky and hot and flowing far too fast out of the wound, not even his large hand enough to stem the bleeding. His extended arm shook, but he refused to lower it. The metal glinted in the air, his gun aimed at the young boy who was weeping on the ground, curled in a fetal position. 

Javier was sure he had lost his mind - or maybe too much blood - but he could swear the boy had been an animal a few moments ago. A fast one at that, something dark and agile to be able to get the jump on him, easily overpowering him and wrestling the DEA agent to the ground. It was only survival instinct that had saved him when Javer had managed to push the beast off him but not without getting seriously hurt. 

He swayed a little on his feet, growing lightheaded. A new gush of blood dripped from between his fingers and Javier pressed down on the wound harder, tighter. A flash of white pain crossed his nervous system but he refused to succumb to it.  

“What are you?” He growled at the weeping boy, stepping back a little to lean against a wall, panting with exertion. The boy only wailed louder, curling tighter into himself. The waxing moon that cast its long limbs on the ground stretched past them both, leaving little pathways between the shadows of Columbian nights. 

“He can’t answer.”

Javi whipped his head around, fighting the black spots appearing in front of his eyes. The words had come from somewhere, but he couldn’t see anyone. “Show yourself!” He shouted, squinting to keep himself from fainting. The blood felt sticky and hot beneath his fingers, sluggish as it dripped from the puncture wounds. The boy’s weeping had quieted down to sniffles, but he was still curled into a ball and shielding himself. 

The woman who stepped into the dim moonlight and repeated her words looked ancient. Her hair was so gray it was practically white and it was gathered up on top of her head in almost a halo pattern. Her face was full of wrinkles that pushed and pulled at her sagging skin and nearly hid her eyes from view. She was leaning heavily on a cane and the garment she had on swept the ground, making her appear shapeless with a curved back. But her voice was strong, powerful. 

“He can’t answer, the curse is too strong in him now. A shame that.”

She wasn’t looking at Javier, but the boy on the ground. And then she was next to him, moving with surprising speed, reaching the boy in seconds and placing herself between the boy and the agent. How did she do that, Javi wondered shocked, or was his sense of time also slipping through the bloody cracks? 

“The curse?” He bit out and pressed harder at the wound, hoping that the jolt of pain kept him upright. So far it did, his eyesight focusing on the old woman and the boy who had risen to his knees. 

The woman looked tenderly at the boy, carding one bony hand through his curls before gripping it tight. In a flash, the cane she had been holding dropped to the ground and she gripped the boy’s head between fingers that should’ve been brittle, but were anything but. 

His neck snapped audibly before the young body dropped to the ground at an unnatural angle. “Fuck!” Javier’s hand holding the gun swung in her direction and he cursed at the movement. “Hands where I can see them!” 

She eyed him like a mother would at her child. “Relax, my boy. It needed to be done.” She bent down and picked up her cane, seemingly not caring about the shaking gun and an eager trigger finger. “It’s the way of the curse. Only one can carry it around and only a bite can transfer it. He…” 

She looked down at the body of the boy, her head shaking slightly as she eyed him. Javier could see the disappointment in her gaze. “He wasn’t strong enough to resist its violent urges and after he bit you, he wouldn’t have survived the dawn.” The woman paused, turning her sunken eyes to him. “Here’s hoping that you will fare better.”

“What?” Javier gaped at the woman. He pushed his body off the wall, placing both hands on his gun and baring his teeth at her. But she just chuckled at his display of intimidation, the sound ominous and cold as it cut the night air. She held her cane up, poking Javier to his injured side. He gasped, waiting for the pain to flood his nervous system and bring him to his knees.

It didn’t. In fact, nothing happened apart from the mild annoyance that flared at being poked. He looked down in shock. The place where the boy had bit him, where his shirt was shredded in strips, was no longer bleeding. There was no wound there, just the remnants of his blood smearing his skin but no new blood oozed out of him. It almost seemed like there hadn’t been a wound in there in the first place, the skin looking flawless. He was healed. 

Javier whipped back to the woman in shock, his gun dropping to his side limply. She nodded, pleased. “Good, good.” She murmured, eyes flicking to the moon high in the sky. “The Luna is pleased with you, my boy. But,” her eyes narrowed to slits and her voice turned gravely, menacing. Her cane thumped on the ground twice, the vibrations loosening rocks lodged in potholes. Her white hair began to glow faintly and she elongated her neck, the angle unnatural and eerie as she spoke while her mouth remained closed. 

“What the Luna gives, she expects to be given back. Serve her well, Javier Peña, and she will reward you. And remember the most important lesson of all. A life given for a life taken.”

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! Tagging the creator of this wonderful challenge @lavenderursa

[bittieswithbrokenbones]

Blueberry is going to learn a harsh lesson about what happens to brats.

Since the moment he was adopted, Blue had his owner wrapped around his bony little finger.

The owner in question was a timid and quiet woman living in her first apartment by herself. Worried about her being alone away from home, her mother had decided to surprise her with a cute and sociable pet bitty. And when she saw her mom carrying in the brand new bitty cage with Blue sitting right in the middle of it, she had been so happy and spent the rest of the day cooing over him and playing together with all the little toys her mother had bought from the pet store.

However, she didn't know a lot about bitties and blueberries tended to have massive egos. Having been spoiled rotten, it only took a few weeks before he expected his Mama's undivided attention no matter what.

If she took too long making food, he'd moan about it and tell her to hurry up. And if she didn't make exactly what he wanted, he'd throw a huge fit, refuse to eat at all for the rest of the day, and say it was her fault he was going hungry.

When she went to the bathroom without him, he'd pound and kick at the door until she let him in, it didn't matter if she was uncomfortable because if he wanted in, he'd get in.

If she was on the phone, he'd shout at her over and over again, getting louder and angrier. Sometimes he'd even start throwing his toys at her until she had to quietly apologize to the person on the other line and hang up.

If that wasn't bad enough, he had started picking up some gross habits. He started to do his business on the bathroom floor because 'it's not fair that mama has a whole room and he has a corner.' Then obviously he started to stink but trying to get Blue to bathe without him throwing a tantrum was near impossible.

It was all getting to be too much; she could feel herself spiraling. She tried everything she could think of but nothing ever worked to calm him down and her life had become a living nightmare. She moved out of her mother's with the hopes that a new place would help her get out of her shell but now it was like she didn't even have a place since Blue ran around it like he owned everything. The fact that she hadn't gotten a fucking noise complaint was a miracle.

It wasn't fair. She fed him, cleaned him, played with him and loved him the best she could but that only got harder and harder the more he whined, cried, piss, shit, screamed, and threw things at her.

All it took was one more bitty-sized outburst.

Blue had been in the middle of another tantrum; Sitting in his mama's lap, all blue-in-the-face and kicking his feet just because she wanted to change the channel to a new show she's been dying to see.

"Fine, w-we'll watch cartoons. " she grit her teeth and tried to calm herself while also pacifying him, "Just quiet down, please? Please?"

When she reached to try and pet his skull, he ducked away and harshly shoved her hand away.

"NYEH! I HATE MAMA!" he screamed with angry tears flowing down his cheeks, "I HATE MAMA! MAMA NEVER LETS ME DO ANYTH-"

Without a second thought, she rose her hand up and slapped him right off of her lap. The force of the impact threw him onto the carpet with a loud thud and she couldn't help the smile that spread on her face at the little bounce of his body after he hit the ground.

For one split second, everything was blissfully silent. Then Blue started screaming with renewed hatred and thrashing around on the carpet like a toddler. Except he wasn't one, he knew better, and she was sick and tired of letting him act like this.

His mama - no, god, she hated that, she hated him, shut up, shut up, shut up - stood up from the couch, leaned down to pluck him up by his skull, and shook him around violently one, two, three times.

"Shut- Shut the hell up before I dust you against the wall."

Blue let out a gasp at her words and went quiet, his eyes widening dramatically in terror. Her breaths came quick and heavy as she wondered how she ever let him go this far before.

"You ungrateful... waste of..." with a huff and a laugh, she shook him again, "Why'd mom have to go and buy- buy me a fucking bitty? If I'd known you'd be this awful, I'd have preferred a hamster."

Three things happened immediately after she said that; Blue started trembling, sniffled, and then let out a loud and annoying 'NYEEEEEEH' as he started bawling. Which only irritated her more.

"Stop Stop Stop Stop- I told you to shut up!"

While he was trying desperately to shake his head and reached up to try and pry her fingers off, she used her other hand to pluck one of his tiny skeleton hands with her thumb and forefinger.

Then she crushed it between them.

The scream died in Blue's throat as his eyelights flickered out from the shock. When she let go of his now destroyed hand, bright blue liquid ran down his legs and hit the floor in drops but she didn't yell at him. And he stayed quiet. After taking a second to slow her breathing, she spoke up again.

"Okay. Okay. Y-Yeah, I... I can't do this anymore. Just- Just stay fucking quiet." She blinked slowly as she tried to think of what to do. God, she was so so over this stupid bitty. As soon as the idea made it's way into her mind, she knew it was perfect.

He whimpered and cried as quietly as he could while she jostled him around on her way to the kitchen. His hand hurt really really bad... He wanted her to set him down and see that his fingers were all wrong and broken. Once she realized what she'd done, surely she'd apologize for all this and fix them. She'll fix them, it's okay. It's okay.

Blue didn't even realize what was happening until she dropped him into the blender. She had used it a few times in front of him and it always made him whine because the way it eviscerated fruit so quickly scared him. This was why.

He had just barely managed to land his legs between the gaps of the blades when he hit the bottom of the jar. As soon as he adjusted himself to stand, he was pounding and kicking on the glass frantically.

"WAIT NO- MAMA- NO-" He sobbed uncontrollably and hit the glass over and over again with his hands even though every hit made his broken fingers explode with pain, "I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY MAMA!! I LOVE YOU!! NO-"

Despite his screams and begging, she tapped the PULSE button. With a flash of the blade, he was swept down and the bottom of the glass smeared blue. The scream that came out of him was blood-curdling but she quickly shut him up by clicking down the LIQUEFY button.

The relief she felt as jar was full of nothing but thick blue liquid in seconds crashed into her like a wave and when she turned the blender off, her apartment was blissfully silent.

She'll probably tell her mom that she woke up to a dusty cage or that she wasn't paying attention when he fell off the kitchen counter. Either way, she'll just cry a little, blame herself, be comforted, and then say she'll say something like she'll 'never love another bitty like she did Blue' so she can put this whole thing behind her.

She'll worry about the details of her story later. For now though? She's gonna go watch that show.

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Branch shifts, careful not to be too loud. Across the room, Chef snores. If he wakes her, she might shake the cage in her anger to daze him, to stun him, to make sure he can't move.

His stomach hurts, and he curls up, his hair curling too. He keeps himself angled so he can watch Chef, so he can know when the sunlight creeps in through the blinds and wakes her. His stomach hurts, but not from hunger.

She fed him extra. Extra! And this isn't the first time, either—she has been feeding him bigger portions for what must be weeks, and more often, too. They grew slowly, but Branch has finally caught on to what the ache in his stomach is really from. He cannot waste a single bite, he's learned, in his years spent here. So he eats it all, even when it leaves him lying against the bars feeling fit to burst.

This increase... it's change. And change means something will happen. It's hard, to remember it all, but Branch knows with certainty that change in how Chef handles him means Something is coming.

He rolls over again. It's hard to get comfortable against the cold metal, but he can't imagine he'll ever sleep on anything else. Comfortable things like cloth and bedding are harder to clean than metal. If only his hair could curl all the way around him, make a bed that could fit him. But his hair is as weak as he is—

Branch flinches, his attention back on Chef. A moment later, her snoring resumes—she must have shifted in her sleep, he guesses. Branch should be sleeping, too. Maybe he'll collapse soon enough to get an hour in. Maybe two if he's lucky.

But how can he sleep, when there is change afoot? When he knows with practiced surety that something is soon to happen, and he will have to relearn all the Rules that keep him alive? That keep him fed?

No. Branch frowns, unwrapping his arms to stretch them out. She's been feeding him more. Does that mean he won't have to work so hard to stay fed?

Or... no. Branch tries to push the new thought away, to come up with something less horrifying, but his mind latches onto the possibility and starts trying to count the days. Surely, after keeping him around for so long—

She said herself that gray Trolls aren't worth eating. Branch examines his paws—he seems just as colorless as always. Surely, she's not—

But she has to be. Why else would she suddenly feed Branch more? He's always been small, always been thin—and who would ever eat a bony Troll? She must be fattening him up until he's nice and plump and delicious—

No no no no no—Branch can't—no—please—he's been so good—please—no no no—he's gray—Branch isn't—she can't—no no no no—

His teeth dig into his wrist and Branch snaps back into himself, into the cold metal of his cage and dark shadows of the RV. Panicking won't do anything for him—it only ever earns Chef's amusement up to a point, and she's not awake to be amused. He has to... he has to think about this, as hard as it is to do so.

If she's fattening him up... well, what if Branch just didn't get fat enough?

But he can't not eat—he can't he can't he can't—that'd be ungrateful. Rude. She might throw him in the pot for that—she might even turn on the burner this time, too.

Maybe she's losing her mind (she seems as sharp as ever). Maybe he's been really good lately (even though she yelled at him two days prior).

Maybe Branch was doomed from the start. Maybe there's nothing he can do to get out of this.

Or maybe... it's almost heretical, this notion, but maybe—

Maybe he can escape.

If Chef is feeding him more... maybe his strength can rebuild (or maybe he's too damaged). Maybe his mind can become sharper, his body stronger (he still feels pathetic, weak, a gray little rat). Maybe, if he bides his time and keeps his eyes open, maybe he can make a run for it. Maybe he can make it to the edge of her camp and disappear into the woods. Maybe he can go far enough before collapsing to never be found by her again.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Branch's life is composed of several certainties. Chef doesn't do "maybe"s. Oh, she'll let him be confused, leave things unsaid, let Branch come to his own conclusions and worry himself exhausted, but Chef and the Rules imposed on him have always been certain. Immovable. Nonnegotiable. There's no winning, in the game that Chef plays, in the game that Branch never asked for (but must have always deserved). Not for Branch, anyhow.

But... Branch stands. It's not as hard as it was when he was fifteen and dizzy all the time. He has to lean against the bars after a moment. But there is a strange hope to this revelation nonetheless, for all that Branch is certain the extra food is a sign of his soon-to-be-grisly fate. Maybe, just maybe—

Branch sits back down. Exhaustion clings to his bones. He's small and weak and powerless, always powerless to do anything against the changes in his life powerless to keep anyone around but the one person he fears the most—

Branch sighs. He's probably doomed.

But he'll put some hope in "maybe," just this once.

ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT THIS IS GOOOOD

Absolutely love his terror it’s real yummy

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

5: thunder

(or: two wizards yelling at each other on a mountain, why est shouldn’t be given a boss fight immediately after troubled dreams, or storm on methedras)

The path up the mountain is long and hard and cold, the longer and harder for your avoidance of what passes for the road. Saeradan is at your side and Amlan guards Delwin behind. The mountain climbs and snow crunches beneath even your feet. You do not speak. Saeradan and Amlan you know well enough by now you do not need it, and if the silence unsettles Delwin she does not show it.

For hours you ascend the slopes of Methedras. Once, you creep to the edge of a steep drop and look on the Gravenwood far, far below. There rise the bony, bare branches of the Tree of Tribute, and there to the north must be the road that leads back to Tûr Morva and tucked against the foot of the mountain the camp where most of your friends must wait and prepare to move on.

Saeradan calls softly for you and you return to him. 

You have been left in peace as you climbed, but this does not reassure you at all. You saw too clearly what the Old Woman of the Mountain was capable of in the Gravenwood, heard the stories Andreg and Amlan and Saeradan told you of their journey to her cottage in Enedwaith. She must be waiting.

In some ways, it’s a relief when you see the first of the elhudan, flickering like firefly lanterns in the snow. You avoid them, careful not to draw their attention lest you shine a beacon on your location for all to see. There are fewer of the cuthraul or the great horned druggavar, but they are not absent. Those you cannot avoid you banish with bow and blade, you with your borrowed dagger rather than anything else. You would like nothing more than to let loose with all the power of the storm you can hold, but not yet. You turn once, a joke for Andreg on your lips, but it dies unsaid. Amlan looks at you in question, but you only shake your head and return to the deer path you are following.

There is thunder on the mountain when the ambush comes. There are far too many for you to be any use with Elenagil- but if you are to be honest, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind until hours later. You lash out with your runestones and the force of it dazes even the more potent spirits long enough to banish them more permanently.

Saeradan’s hand falls on your shoulder as you stand there, breathing heavily, waiting for the powdery snow driven into the air to settle around your feet.

“Are you alright, Esterín?” he asks quietly. Amlan is saying something to Delwin, who is eyeing you with something like unease. You give Saeradan a smile full of teeth.

“As well as any of us.” (If you look just past the next ridge, you will be able to see Orthanc. Is Lothrandir still there? Is he-)

Gwyllion has summoned all manner of spirits to her and hid them in the trees, in the stones, in bodies like dogs that Amlan eyes with distaste and says remind him too much of the Barrow-downs. She has even managed to draw regmyl to her, if lesser ones. 

You come to the small hut at the peak of Methedras, and there Gwyllion waits. There is talk, but you ignore both Saeradan’s words and the Old Woman’s, straining for the last scraps of your self-control. Gwyllion calls down a great drake and you seize Saeradan’s shoulder and shove him back to where Amlan stands guard over Delwin and her drum.

“Stay back,” you say, low. Saeradan opens his mouth to protest, but whatever he sees in your face stops him.

You open your mouth and words spill out. Wind and snow rise in a flurry and you pull lightning about yourself, and when the drake comes near enough you scream and lightning races from your hands to the sky, pulled not from the air but from this storm of your own making. 

You have tried so hard not to let all of it get the best of you- the betrayal in Tûr Morva, the losses, Isengard, the Fords- but it has been so much in so short a time and you find now that you cannot. You remember Andreg, dying in your arms, and you don’t even know if it was truly necessary, if you could have saved him and didn’t. If you could have brought Lothrandir with you and didn’t. Ball lightning dances around you and you hurl it gracelessly at the drake, at Gwyllion. You don’t know what she throws back at you, and by now you are beyond caring. Spirits come to her call, and once something reaches for you through the storm, but a distant drumbeat breaks through the thunder in your ears and it is turned aside.

Echdrud falls, crushing Gwyllion’s home beneath him, and the Old Woman of the Mountain shrieks, alight with rage to match yours. You hope your friends are standing very far back.

When it is done, the earth around has been blasted free of snow and dotted with small craters from your power and hers. Dark streaks that feel like burns cross your face and your arms through your tattered sleeves. It smells like ash and smoke. Gwyllion lies before you and you collapse beside her, arms and legs numb and useless as you finally release the storm. Saeradan and Amlan crunch through the snow to your side.

“Don’t-” you try to say, but all of you is numb and tingling like static and all that comes is a vague and distressed noise that does not at all soothe their alarm. The air pops when Saeradan tries to touch you and he jerks back with a sharp cry, shaking his hand. You can still feel the charge in the air, slow to dissipate after the fury of the fight. Saeradan waits, watching you attentively while Amlan checks Gwyllion, but you already know he will find no life in her now.

“I am not sure what you needed me for,” Delwin says, shattering the crackling stillness atop the mountain. “You seem to have things quite under control.” It draws a laugh from Amlan and a strained smile from Saeradan, but you are as numb inside as out, hollow and tingling and hardly able to string one thought to the next. Under control. If only. You blink once, slow, and when you open your eyes again you are on your side in the dirt. Ah. It will be a long walk back down the mountain, you think.

---

There was thunder on the mountain, the rest of the Company says later, when you wake properly and shake out the tingling that lingers in your fingertips. A great storm that echoed off Methedras and rumbled among the roots of the Gravenwood. 

“We worried for you,” Halbarad says. You duck your head while Amlan and Saeradan insist that all was well, mostly, that the shadow-burns already fading from your skin were the only true injuries and that Gwyllion will trouble neither Dunland nor Rohan. You are glad they stood back. You did not strike with precision; you do not want to think what would have happened had they not been wary enough of you to keep away. You catch them giving you odd looks the next few days, and when you ask Saeradan hesitates before describing the sparks that leapt from your eyes when you ordered him back.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“You didn’t hurt us,” Saeradan replies, offering a hand you do not take.

“I would have.” Saeradan frowns, but when you still do not move from your spot near the fire, he sighs and leaves you with a gentle touch on your shoulder. You stare into the fire, and wonder if any of this will pass or if you will be this near to cracking for the rest of your days.

[randomperson351]

We did good - 40′s Stucky x reader*

Summary: Life living with Bucky and Steve has been good, great even. They offer you a night with them, could it change things between you for good?

Warnings: Smut, like not very good smut but smut nonetheless. 18+ people, no minors for this one thank you.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my works. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist

You'd been roommates with Bucky and Steve for a while now. You met them when they were advertising for a third body to share their apartment with to lower rent cost; enter you, straight laced girl from Brooklyn sick of living at home and wanting a taste of independence.

You three hit it off immediately, aided by the fact that Bucky and Steve were together and you kept their secret so they had a safe space to be intimate.

Bucky liked you because you always sided with him when Steve was too sick to move and yet claimed 'he felt fine'. Steve liked you because you were an artist as well, he enjoyed having someone to watch draw instead of being the one watched.

For seven months things had gone smoothly. You and Bucky went out to work in the day while Steve continued to try and illegally enlist, and you came home to (admittedly, it wasn't great but what you three could afford) home cooked meals. The only downside was the walls being paper thin. So every time Steve's lungs were working past 60%, so was Bucky (if you catch my drift).

I mean you can hear everything. From the snap of Bucky's work suspenders coming off to Steve's breathless wheeze when Bucky starts opening him up. It got so loud one night you had to go out on the fire escape and close your window behind you just to sleep. Turns out that was pretty effective since you fell asleep out there and didn't wake up to Bucky pounding on your door, panicking that you'd died in the night or something.

Fueled by adrenaline he broke the lock off and stormed into the room only to find your small duvet all screwed up and fog on the window from your body lent against it. Needless to say he was not most pleased when he hauled you inside on the border of hyperthermia with no feeling in your extremities.

Since then him and Steve were quite careful about only being that loud when you were out at work or with friends.

However, Bucky had noticed a shift in the atmosphere. He's always been observant, especially when it comes to Steve, so the longing glances at their little roomate's face instead of her drawings hadn't gone unnoticed. They were led in bed one night, cuddled up against the cold when Bucky to turned to Steve and asked him about his growing fascination.

"What's going on in your head Stevie?" He began softly, dragging his fingertips along Steve's bony arm causing goosebumps to appear under his touch. "You've been a little off."

"What? No I haven't!" Steve immediately denied.

"S'okay bub, I just want to make sure we're on the same page." Bucky explained as quietly as he could as to not appear confrontational (though he did like the way Steve got all nervous and started squirming around to avoid making eye contact).

"It's not that I like girls now or anything. She just- I don't know. She didn't immediately act like I didn't exist when she met us, she laughs at our dumb jokes and we can be us around her."

Bucky hummed in thought, then added "I'm sure the peak you got of her panties didn't hurt either."

Steve blushed harder than a nun at a nudist colony. "You know that was unintentional you fucker." He whispered sharply making Bucky chuckle at his chagrin.

"So are you saying you want her to join us, maybe one night?" Bucky approached the subject hesitantly, hoping he hadn't read the signals wrong to put Steve off.

"I don't know." He mumbled, looking down and tucking into himself a little more. A little guilt flared in Bucky at how he was making his boyfriend feel so he comfortingly gripped him closer.

"It's not a bad thing Stevie-" He kissed Steve's cool forehead-"I just want to make sure I'm reading the room right. Don't want to assume something like this."

Steve was silent for a moment, the pulse of Bucky's heart pounding in his ear from his head placed on his chest. Then finally, he timidly looked up and met Bucky's crystal blue eyes for the first time since the conversation started, and slowly but surely started nodding.

"Words, bub." Buck reminded him, wanting full consent.

“If it would be okay with you, I wouldn’t mind asking her to join just for a trial night or something like that. After all, I never really got to experience anything like that with a girl before.”

“Okay Stevie, we’ll ask.”

It was quiet for a minute when Bucky sighed and rolled Steve onto his back, pressing his body into the bed with his own. Steve rolled his eyes when he got a look at the cheeky smile on Bucky’s face.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.” Bucky kissed him and moved his hand down Steve’s body, starting them off again for the night.

~~

It was a few weeks (and a lot of loud nights) later when Bucky and Steve agreed to finally pop the question.

You were sat in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate since the building’s heating had been out and was still getting fixed, although it was more like a mug of hot water with a few particles of chocolate since you couldn’t afford to buy anymore of the powder.

Steve’s panting and Bucky’s moaning had just finished, meaning they were probably done for the night and going to sleep soon considering Bucky had work in the morning (admittedly you did too but with the amount of noise they were making sleep was an impossible feat).

You heard footsteps a few minutes later, and having recognised them from the nights when the electric was out, you knew straight away that it was Steve.

“Hey, what are you still doing up? You have work tomorrow.” He said quietly as he entered the kitchen and saw you hunched over a steaming cup, harboring the warmth from it. Steve wasn’t really feeling how cold the apartment was since Bucky had bundled him up in his sweater and thermal underwear while he showered.

“Just couldn’t get to sleep I guess.” You shrugged and smiled at him, reaching around and tugging the threadbare blanket around yourself to keep the bite of the cold night away.

Steve smiled back sheepishly and made his way to the sink to get a cup of water. “Sorry,” he breathed, laughing a little that him and Bucky had gotten slightly out of control again.

“S’okay.” You chuckled in return, standing up and yawning whilst you stretched, the unforgiving wooden chairs doing nothing to help the ache in your body. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow Blondie.”

You’d begun walking away when Steve called your name, catching your attention again.

“You know you can come in sometimes, right?”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Well, you don’t have to just listen. You can join me and Buck, if you wanted to?” Steve offered, his fingertips going white from how hard he was gripping the cup.

“Oh, right, okay Steve, whatever you say.” You blew him off for two reasons. One, as if Bucky and Steve actually wanted you to join them in bed, you hear how much they enjoy themselves anyway so why mess that up; two, if they really did want you to join, you couldn’t handle what that would imply. Just the thought of what you three might get up to already had a damp spot in your panties as you rushed up the stairs to hide in your bedroom.

“Woah there darlin’, who are you getting away from in such a rush?” Bucky was listening to everything Steve said and waited until you were just outside to pretend to run into you, holding you by your biceps.

“Uh no-one. No, no-one I was just off to bed, work in the morning.” You explained as inconspicuously as possible.

“You sure you’re alright?” Bucky tilted his head down to catch your eyes that flitted to the stairs when you could hear Steve coming.

“Yep! Fine, just tired. Goodnight boys!” You said in a rush, breaking free of Bucky’s hold and waving goodbye and you entered your room and safely locked the door behind you.

Bucky frowned at your disappearance and put his arm around Steve when he stood beside him looking slightly put out at how fast you denied their offer.

“Well what now?” Steve asked, curling into Bucky’s freshly warmed body from the shower.

“Don’t worry Stevie, she’ll come around.” Bucky assured him with determination. Mark his words, by the end of the week you’d be flushed and sweating in their bed from vigorous bouts of love making, pleading them to make you theirs, and they would do exactly that.

~~

Turns out actually getting you to agree to get in the physical bed with them was proving to be quite the challenge. Obviously they’d never force you into doing something you didn’t want to, but they knew you wanted to. They stayed awake and listened to your faint moans through the walls at night, the whispered “ooh fuck, Bucky” and “Jesus Christ Steve!”, yet they could not for the life of them figure out why you won’t allow yourself to come to them.

It was Friday and at last the weekend, you and Bucky had had a rough week with Steve’s chest acting up again. The whole week the two of you had been monitoring him to make sure he didn’t break out in the flu (which in Steve’s case often led to pneumonia) and thanking whatever God was above when it didn’t turn into anything and he was as healthy as Steve could be.

While it had been Bucky’s turn to take care of Steve the two had been conspiring on how to bring up the ménage à trois situation. And, well, they didn’t really come up with anything since they were cuddling at the time so Steve fell asleep in about two minutes and Bucky was worrying about how much money they need to save for Steve’s medication this year, but alas! The opportunity arose when Steve was up making dinner, you were sat at the counter trying to do the daily crossword and Bucky was lent over your shoulder trying to help with the clues.

It was a nice atmosphere, the smell of the stew was warming up the kitchen and you and Bucky were only speaking in hushed voices so the music from the radio was echoing in the space.

It had been silent for some time, you were deep in thought when you felt Bucky move away from you. You figured he was moving over to Steve, but flinched back when his head was suddenly right in front of yours with a deep frown etched into his forehead.

"Why don't you want to join us baby?" He pouted, tilting his head at you.

"Umm, I'm sorry?" You said, not quite having caught up with the conversation.

"You said no when Stevie asked you to join us for a night. Why do you not want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to, I just- I don't know."

At this point all attention was on you. Steve had turned the stove to a low heat and walked over next to Bucky, resting his arm over Bucky's shoulder.

"We just want to make you feel good y/n, that's all." Steve explained softly to try and encourage you to talk to them. The sooner they found out the problem, the sooner they could fix it.

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to do this just because I live with you guys. If you want to do this I want it to be because you want to and don’t feel as though you have to.”

“Darlin’, we’ve been fantasising about this since you walked your pretty self through the door of the cafe when we met for the first time.You didn’t notice it, but every man in there turned to look at you; couldn’t believe their Godforsaken eyes that a beauty like you came waltzing into town. And the best thing was, you chose us. Out of everyone in Brooklyn, you chose us. And now, we want to choose you.” Bucky insisted. “Will you let us?”

When you hesitated both boys moved towards you; Steve wrapped his small body around your back and rested his head in your neck while Bucky cupped your face in his hands and just barely brushed his lips to yours.

“You can say no doll, it’s no problem for me and Stevie.” Bucky said so gently as if you would break.

“I want to, I just...haven’t done anything like this. Well I have, but I haven’t done very much of it.” You explained, a look of undertsanding dawning on Bucky’s face as he looked over your shoulder to Steve, having a silent conversation.

“S’lright honey, me and Stevie’ll take good care of you.”

“Promise.” Steve agreed from your neck, propping his head up to give you a smile.

You nodded, comforted by their words and let them take control. Steve led you (rather precariously) up the stairs to their bedroom with Bucky close behind, his hand on your hips to play with the buttons fastening your trousers.

"Buck, fuckin' commit to it and undo 'em if you're gonna do something." Steve scolded him impatiently, wanting to see you out of your clothes as soon as possible.

Bucky smirked at his boyfriend over your shoulder, letting his face drop into an innocent look as he slotted his head into your neck and held your back tightly to his front before answering Steve.

"I don't know what you mean Stevie, I wasn't doing anything-" Bucky lowered his mouth to bite at the skin halfway between your neck and shoulder but kept his eyes on Steve's darkening ones- "nothing at all."

"Bedroom." Steve could barely gasp, Bucky's little show quickening his need and breath.

"Big words for a guy that can't even breath." Bucky jested, but he stepped around you and walked to pat Steve on the back anyway, rubbing in circles to help him out.

When Steve was back in control of his breathing he nodded to himself. "Okay, to the bedroom!"

Buck rolled his eyes and walked you into the bedroom, Steve shut the door while Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and threw you onto the bed. “Now doll, you be a good girl and scream for us, we might just keep you all for ourselves, okay?”

You nodded breathlessly and watched as Bucky started taking off your trousers and Steve came to the head of the bed and undid the buttons of your shirt.

“S’lright honey, Buck knows how to take care of us.” Steve whispered by your ear when he reached around you to undo your bra.

“Sure do, start getting undressed Stevie, I’ll take care of our girl for now.”

Steve pressed a trail of kisses down your neck before he removed himself and quickly started undressing. Bucky had already taken his shirt off leaving his suspenders hanging by his side. He eyed you hungrily and knelt near the bottom of the bed to crawl to you, leaving tongue laced kisses from your work weary feet up to your navel; his fingers played with the little bow on your panties he’d left on, for now.

At this point Steve was bare apart from his boxers and was quite content to stand and enjoy the show when Bucky gave him that look, a string of his saliva connecting his lips to your bellybutton as he looked up, and Steve moved. He walked behind Bucky and reached under him to unbutton his trousers and pull them down, pulling his socks off at the same time.

Steve will still swear to this day that he never smacked Bucky ass, and that wasn’t the cause of his boyfriend’s extremely manly squeak and jerk forward almost straight into your exposed breasts. Though the look of offended incredibilty sent his way once Buck had righted himself almost made him confess.

“Can you believe this jerk baby? Always tryin’ to steal my moment.” Bucky grumbled when he turned back around to blatantly ignore Steve’s denial. You giggled into Bucky’s neck when he pressed his chest against yours and continued his path up to reach your lips where he dipped his tongue in to bring yours out. It didn’t take long before he had you whining with need, his wet tongue endlessly playing with yours and hands keeping your head tilted to him so you had to take what he gave you.

Your eyes snapped open when Bucky suddenly disconnected from you and was sliding down to the foot of the bed again.

“What the fuck, Steve?”

“You were having all the fun, dickface. It’s my turn.” Steve argued. Your body bounced when Steve flopped on the bed next to you earning an eyeroll from his boyfriend. “What, as if you don’t do it.”

“You just keep those lips busy while I look after these ones.” Speaking of lips Bucky licked his own and stared right at the wet spot forming on your panties. Immediately your face went red and you started to fuss.

“You don’t have to do that Bucky, it’s fine, honestly you can just do it I’ll be fine-” Steve grabbed your chin and lifted your head to shut you up with a firm kiss.

Bucky smiled at the slightly dominant side of his boyfriend coming out and refocused on his task, a more deviant smirk overtaking the amusement. Hmm, what a pretty girl.

He lifted the panties from your legs and leaned forward to pat Stevie on the bum to get his attention. You were gasping for air beneath them when he finally let up to look at Bucky. You looked up just in time to see Bucky place your panties into Steve’s mouth, specifically the wet patch of your arousal that had soaked through.

“Well, how’d she taste Stevie?”

His darkened eyes looked back at y/n as he took the wet material from his mouth and whispered, “like fucking candy.”

Bucky lost himself and dived in with a hot wet lick up your folds to your clit where he stopped and sucked, tongue and teeth. Your moan was lost in Steve’s mouth as he began devouring you again; his hand took yours and encouraged you to reach under his boxers and start stroking him. What the boys didn’t know however, was that you had done this with other flings of yours.

Therefore you knew that when Steve was panting into your mouth, you need to twist your wrist and run your thumb over his leaking tip to make him moan. The coincidence was not lost on Bucky. Everytime he heard Steve’s deep moan, he made sure to retaliate and spit on your pussy only to lick it all up again to let it drip down his tongue to your lips when he was massaging them. Then, he had to up the stakes.

“Whoever comes first gets fucked last.”

The statement hung in the room for a second before you were bringing out every trick in the book to make Steve cum and distract yourself from the vacuum that was Bucky’s mouth.

Steve tried everything. He really did. His hands were rolling over your breasts, pinching and smoothing over your nipples, tongue stroking along yours but he couldn’t take it. Not when Bucky got his first proper taste of your pussy and moaned pornagraphically into the room (and your pussy). Just the thought of your tight wet walls clenching down around him made him tear away from you and cum, hard, into your hand and his boxers. Steve heard your moans escalate and realised you were cumming as well, Bucky keeping his head fused to you and swallowing every drop.

All three of them were panting when they were finished. They had a few minutes respite before Bucky was smirking over at Steve, wiping the remanants of your slick from his chin and cleaning it with his tongue. “Sorry babe, you lost.”

Steve’s face fell in realisation as he watched Bucky rest his whole body over you, at some point getting rid of his boxers, to watch your dazed eyes meet his.

“You alright there darling?” He smoothed your hair back from your face.

“I’m fuckin’ great.” You breathed making the boys laugh. Bucky tilted his head at you.

“You think you can take my cock this time?”

“Love to.”

~~

Steve trudged up the groaning stairs to their apartment and jiggled around the lock on their door to enter, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his day with his two favourite people after the stress of enlisting (*cough cough* illegally *cough cough*) all morning.

They’d both been on late shift last night, y/n starting at 3am and Buck starting at 4 so Steve hadn’t seen either of them when he woke up this morning. Now that it was heading into late afternoon, he was hoping they’d both be home by now.

Steve turned to go into the lounge and call out for them but found he didn’t need to as they were led on the couch right in front of him.

Bucky was led on his back against the cushions with y/n right on top of him, napping peacefully. The newspaper was resting on her back so Bucky could fill out the answers of the crossword with one hand, his other keeping her body still against his.

Buck looked up when he heard Steve’s footsteps stop behind the couch, a smile lacing itself over his face when he reclined his head back to see the soft expression of love on his boyfriend’s face.

“Hey Stevie.” He whispered into the air, not wanting to disturb the worn out girlfriend napping on his chest. You had just done a run of six night shifts in a row with three day shifts in between. But today, your boys had you all to themselves for the weekend.

“Hey Buck, you slept yet?” Steve removed his jacket and sat on the small armchair that was previously coined as yours when you moved in so that everyone would have a place to sit (Steve and Bucky usually claimed the sofa).

“Yeah I took a nap earlier when I got home. This one was trying to be stubborn and stay awake. Took about 20 minutes before she was conked out for the count.” Bucky smiled at how resistant you had been to cuddle with him, knowing that this would be exactly the outcome.

“Stubborn.” Steve had the absolute nerve to mumble under his breath, not understanding the look of disbelief Bucky threw his way. “What?”

Bucky just shook his head and dropped the paper and pencil to the floor, gesturing to the empty sliver of sofa left on the inside of their weaved bodies.

“Room for a small one?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the term of ‘endearment’ and as gently as he could wormed his body in against his lovers’, leaning his head on Bucky’s shoulder and gazing down at you still sound asleep on top of him.

“We did good punk.”

“We sure did jerk.”

By late afternoon all three of them were sleeping soundly in the living room, basking in the golden light of the setting sun and savouring the peaceful moment of the day, hoping they’d have more to come exactly like this.

[levi-ish]

Old Sparks | 7

Summary: Arranged marriages are still a thing. Unfortunately, with the overflow of new heroes, you had to be the best of the best to shine, but with personal problems in the way things got harder, so your family sold you in order to keep living the luxurious life they always had. Now you’re married to the number 4 hero, and meeting an old flame might ignite something explosive.

Pairing: adult!Katsuki Bakugou X reader

Genre: Drama, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Warnings: dubcon, violence, panic attacks, adultery, non-consensual stuff, death.

Series Masterlist

You can also follow this story on AO3

Your heart sank inside it’s cage every time the door opened to reveal another person and you tried to quiet down your bouncing leg. The wine glass on your hand held only half of its capacity and your eyes burned holes behind Akio’s head.

It wasn’t long until an employee opened the door to reveal who you were waiting for. Oh, the bittersweetness of watching those who raised you, dressed in faux fur and shiny jewelry that their dirty money was able to hold on your account. Your mother was greeted by your husband right away, her squeaky voice echoing alongside the strings of the piano that was being played by someone hired that you didn’t pay mind to notice before. She threw her brown coat on a young woman’s arms, not even sparing her a glance as she came in like she owned the house.

The irony: not even you owned the place.

Your father stood right behind her, a turtleneck hugging his body with a simple suit jacket on top. You watched as they entered the place, not caring enough to go meet them, but your eyes lit up as soon as you heard the clanking of a pair of heels, and your eyes found the same two ones that were quite too similar to yours and you felt a few tears forming.

It took a second for you to stand up and rush to the door, placing both hands on top of the pale cashmere that warmed her shoulders. She stared back at you and fell into as hug, holding your back tightly and you let yourself nestle your face on her hair, the faint smell of the lavender shampoo lingering and comforting you.

“How rude, young lady, you won’t say ‘hello’ to your old mother?” The same voice that tormented your mind every day filled the room, and suddenly, the comfort and warmth that you held slipped from your fingers.

You rolled your eyes, still holding onto those bony shoulders as you watched your sisters face, gently cupping her cheeks that were quite hollow, and you knew exactly why.

“Are you okay?” You whispered and she nodded.

In a protective move, you pushed her behind you before Akio could get to her.

“You swore” you bit the inside of your cheek as you spat those venomous words, not minding the people around that were starting to focus their attention on the interaction.

You raised your finger and pointed it in front of his nose, shaking uncontrollably. But before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you to the kitchen, pushing you against the wall and leaning close to your face. You could swear you felt your stomach twist right on the spot.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” He asked, almost in a whisper, not minding the employees that were cooking and organizing things right behind him. “Going all crazy in front of my guests?”

“We had a deal!” You spat through your teeth; hands being strained by his big ones in a way you were pretty sure would leave a mark. “You gave me your word that you wouldn’t bring my sister into this!”

“We are family” he leaned back, a scoff falling from his lips. “We would have to get acquainted one way or another, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off” you pushed him. “You fucking…”

He put a finger in front of your face before grabbing his cellphone from the pocket inside his suit jacket, quickly searching something as your curious eyes watched, and when he found what he was looking for, he showed you.

GROUND ZERO AND MYSTERIOUS GIRL SPOTTED

Your heart sank, and you swore you could feel your skin going cold. It was a single photo of Bakugou sitting inside the café from earlier and you across him. The image didn’t show your face properly, and anyone who didn’t know you wouldn’t say it was you in the first place.

Not sociopathic Akio, no.

“Only from your reaction I can tell it really is you there” he clicked his tongue as he pocketed his phone once again.

You were speechless. How did you get so careless?

“We were just meeting to work out!” You said, muscles tense under your skin as you bit your lower lip, eyes not daring to leave his, knowing it would be a way of letting him win. “You don’t let me do anything, what’s the problem of going to work out with a friend?”

Akio leaned back, a gentler look washing over his features as he let out a small laugh.

“Friend?” Another laugh and he was now leaning closer to your ear. “We both know you were never just friends.”

Every hair in your body raised and you felt sick to your stomach. The smell of seasoned tofu that lingered around in the air was now making you want to gag.

“Your sister here is just a small warning. You know my rules, darling.” His lips left the shell of your ear and he pressed a slow, wet kiss to your cheek, making the urge to gag grow even more. “I know you’re not that dumb. Don’t go over me again. Ever.”

With that, he left the kitchen, leaving you to slide on the wall, holding your stomach and stare set on the floor. Your hand balled into a fist and you hit the tiles behind you as a groan stablished itself inside your throat.

Looking up, you could see that the kitchen staff stared back at you, sympathy on their faces as they paused their work, but no one dared to walk over to you, until…

“Miss? Are you alright?” You looked to your side to find the same boy from before, holding a gentle smile on his thin lips as he offered you a hand so you could stand straight.

You took his offer and nodded, tight-lipped while you ran your hands over your skirt. You just gave him a small thanks, the small gesture was simple enough, but more than you ever had in your life.

[…]

The entrées were being served as you ran your fingers through the silky napkin on top of your lap, over and over, pulling on the lone threads until it deformed the small piece of fabric. Akio sat next to you, chatting with his old classmates and your mother interfered every now and then, making it all about herself, like the pro attention seeker that she was.

She always did that. Sometimes she innovated by telling a story she found funny, mostly about her shaming someone that was poorer than her, because that’s all that mattered to her tiny, tiny brain. No status, no worth. And when she would make everyone uncomfortable, her focus would shift to shaming you.

‘Oh, my ungrateful daughter.’

‘She doesn’t have manners.’

‘How much weight have you gained since you moved out?’

‘Akio has been treating her well. It’s surprising how he hasn’t filed a divorce yet.’

You kind of wish he did, actually.

Kiyo sat quietly on the other side of the table. From time to time, you two exchanged looks, remind the old days when you would make fun of the silly things your mother said behind her back. Your father was always too focused on not giving a shit to notice so it became a game between you.

She was a free spirit. Always too intrigued about the nature, being on herself and creating her own little world where she would be able to run away when things got too tough. You envied the way she didn’t take words to heart, how she would just scoff whenever your mother told her that she gained weight, even daring to open a bag of chips in front of those cold eyes, throwing a few inside her mouth, as if to say, ‘you don’t hold power over me’, while you would crumble over anything that came from those red-painted lips.

Kiyo always left the imaginary door open for you to come inside and enjoy each other’s presence inside her self-made oasis. The place you two built together, far away from any prying eyes and the rules that applied to the outside world.

The amount of nights you would wait until your parents to fall asleep so you could sneak inside her room and throw the big duvet over your heads, turning a lantern on so you could play with the shadows and make them come to life. How her big eyes always shined under your ‘magic’ — as she would say. She asked for giraffes, elephants, foxes, never those same old boring figures, but always expanding her creative mind and touching yours with her innocence.

You liked to think that she was an eagle: strong, smart and free; that’s why most of the times you would portray it in shadows and watch as her big, shiny eyes followed its every move. You were proud of being her sister. You loved her more than anything.

But her shallow eyes that stared back at you made something in your mind ring, heart too heavy for your chest to carry. She’d lost weight and her hair was thinner, not full and luscious as before. Ever since you moved in with Akio, you lost most of your contact with her, and you knew that your mother tracked her phone and location, so she wouldn’t be able to meet you as much. In three years, you saw her twenty times, tops, but she was always the same, not a thing changed asides from what was supposed to change with time.

Now, she was somebody that you used to know, someone you didn’t know.

And even though you missed her, you wished she wasn’t sitting in front of you.

You were dumb enough to trust Akio’s words when he said that he would leave her alone. All over someone that you wished you haven’t met again, now. You wished it wasn’t your fault.

“When is my grandchild coming?” You were thrown back into the real world with just a few words, eyes looking up from the single pea that kept you entertained this whole time, tossing it around your place with the silver fork.

Your mother stared back, her voice echoing in your mind as you shook your head.

“We are still trying, soon enough we’ll be blessed with little ones running around” Akio said as he gave you a gentle look over his shoulder and you could’ve puked right there.

“It’s not usual in our family to take so long” your mother kept going, placing her fork on top of her plate as her manicured hands twirled around as she made her point. “I got pregnant as soon as we started trying. Then, a few years later, we tried once more, and I got pregnant with Kiyo. How long have you been trying, now? Maybe… two to three years?”

You raised your eyes to find Akio sitting uncomfortably. The whole table was now silent. His other guests; two of his old classmates and their wives were focused on him, too.

Oh, this is entertaining.

“I’m pretty sure the time is coming” Akio nodded, his lips tight as he kept on his cool hanging by a thread. A very thin, silky thread.

“Maybe you two should visit a doctor. I know someone who’s married to this—”

“I said we are fine.” Akio raised his voice, both of his cutlery falling to the plate as you felt your body go rigid, looking over your sister to see her also in shock.

Everyone else, too.

It wasn’t normal for him to lost his cool, not even raise his voice a little. He wouldn’t even scream at you. That’s when you knew that your mother dug some cursed graves.

It almost made you laugh.

Akio cleared his throat, raising a napkin to his lips and then placing it back on the table, hands falling to his lap and a small smile forming on his lips, contrasting the very constipated look on your mother’s face. “I’m sorry, this subject is a little touchy for us,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you wondered what you had to do with that. “When the time is right, the gods will bless us. Some things just take time.”

Everyone nodded and your mother did, too, the subject quickly changing to something else as the desserts were being served. Your eyes grew a little when the young man placed the tall glass of sorbet in front of you, a single mint leaf on top of the creamy sweetness and you could swear you felt waterfalls inside your mouth. But as you eyed your sister, she almost seemed scared, eyes flickering between her plate and your mother.

You also noticed that, since the glass was tall, it reflected a shadow on the plate, so you tried something quickly, merging the dark blob into a square, then a triangle, and you got an idea.

With the heel of your right feet, you took your other shoe off and let it dangle on your toes, lifting them and trying to reach your sister’s leg. As soon as you gave it a nudge, she looked up to you and you signaled for her to her dessert glass, moving yours to the side so she could mimic you. She quickly got what you were trying to do and placed it against the chandelier lights, making a small shadow form on top of the porcelain plate.

Then, you quickly turned the shadow on her plate into words, the trick you learned very early in life.

“Ok?” she read and looked up as you moved your own glass, waiting for the reply.

“Yes” she morphed the shadows in front of you. You didn’t believe her.

“Talk?” you wrote.

But before she could reply, your mother took the tall glass that helped you two communicate and placed it to the side, whispering something into Kiyo’s ear and you watched your little sister nod. That made your blood boil.

She just looked down, avoiding your gaze and you decided that you would try to talk later.

The rest of the dinner went by really quick, Akio, his old friends and your father went out for a smoke while the women stayed behind, joining in the living room for a tea of green tea. You wished you could talk to Kiyo, but with your mother hovering around her, it made things more difficult.

“I remember you from the festivals” a sweet voice came from your side and you looked up, finding this woman sitting right by your side.

You didn’t notice her before, the sleek blond hair falling on her shoulders as her glossy lips formed a gentle smile. She was wearing a mid-dress in navy blue, a few pearls around her neck and gold on her fingers as she held the fragile porcelain now almost empty.

“Oh, sorry, I—” you felt a little awkward, not even remembering a thing about this girl.

“It’s okay. We never talked before” she widened her smile and placed a hand in front of her mouth to cover a giggle. “I’ve always admired you, though.”

You didn’t know how to react, but you nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’m Camie.”

You offered her your name, to which she giggled once more.

“I know, silly.” She put the porcelain down, a hand running through her skirt. “I was at your wedding.”

“I don’t really remember much from that day” you said as you crossed your legs.

“I wouldn’t either. I would either be high or drunk” she widened her eyes. The kindness never leaving her face or her tone.

You laughed. A true laugh.

“I don’t know how you handle it, I mean it” she kept going, eyes leaving yours for a second. “Me and Yagi dated back in high school, worst time of my life. He had this weird obsession about my quirk.”

Same. You didn’t reply, just nodded, afraid you would let something slip.

“Also, you seem smart enough to be in this shitty wedding” she said in almost a whisper, leaning into your ear as she looked around, trying not to grab much attention to you. “I might know a way out.”

Your eyes widened, you stared back at her with your mouth parted. Before you could process what she’d said, you were met with the slim figure of your mother right in front of you, eyes looking down on you from where she stood.

“Excuse me” Camie quickly left the room and you almost grabbed her wrist, desperately wanting for her to stay, but she disappeared into the hallways.

And now you were left with the devil herself.

Eire Asuka was definitely one of the worst examples of motherhood. She was as thin as paper, never let her hair down, always snatched up on top of her head; “a lousy braid reflects on a lousy character”, as she would say, long fingers running through your locks and hard pinches were placed on your arms if you moved ever so slightly.

She was obsessed with money, status, luxury, being born into a gold crib to be feed with polished silver spoons. She never had to work a day in her life, disposing of her quirk — she could make anyone go completely numb for a few seconds, and it was kinda ironic that she wouldn’t use it on you and your sister whenever she worked on your hair.

You didn’t grow used to her touch, the only times she would carry you was when she needed to keep her good mother mask to other people, and then, you would go to the nanny’s arms. You never knew warmth, hugs or kisses, bedtime stories, make pretends; instead, you knew etiquette, chiffon dresses and slaps. And your father was never around, whenever he was, he just didn’t care.

Eire Asuka grew up rich, married rich and fucked her daughter over to keep rich.

“You are awfully quiet tonight” she stated as you leaned onto the armrest.

“Not much to say” you raised your brows and she twitched her nose.

“I was serious before.”

You frowned, not quite sure about what she was saying until she sat by your side, ruffling her dress.

“You won’t be young forever, darling” she leaned over so her voice could be clear against your ear. You could almost smell the scent of her red lipstick. “You know what happens if you don’t give this man a child.”

Turning your head, you avoided her vicious gaze, avoiding every drop of venom that fell from those thin, chapped lips of hers. Fucking—

The backdoor slid open, revealing the men that laughed behind Akio, probably over some dumb shit he said.

“Time to go!” Your mother quickly stood, clapping her hands together as she went to lace her arm with your father’s.

Kiyo stood from the other couch and you tried to make eye contact, but she just avoided each of your tries. That made you fell a pang to your chest — she never acted that way, and something rang a bell in your head, you were pretty sure you knew what.

But they wouldn’t do that… right?

Not when she was underage, but… her birthday was coming up. And you weren’t getting results.

No.

[…]

You twirled your fingers around the string that held your silky robe together as you watched the big, oak door in front of you, mind going to all the alternative endings that could lead to. Without a second thought, you knocked twice and waited. He opened the door, eyes boring into you as he remained unfazed by your presence, you were quite used to that.

“What do you need?” He asked, door not even ¹/4 open as he used his hand to keep it still.

“Just wanted to talk” you gave your best impression of doe eyes accompanied of a gentle smile.

He didn’t seem too pleased, but the curiosity must’ve gotten to him, as in he shook his head with a smirk, opening the door for you to enter the room.

You’d been to his office a few times before, but never without him being there. It was simple, but modern, the same oak that filled your house was present in all the furniture, shelves that held big books you knew that Akio had never read before, mostly encyclopedias or some old English books that you didn’t care enough to learn the titles.

He leaned on his desk, setting some papers that were stacked to his side and closed his laptop, as if to hide anything from your sight. You appreciated that he did it subtly, though.

“To what do I owe the visit?” He turned around, running his fingers through the fabric of his shirt that was now unbuttoned in a more casual way, a glass of whiskey resting on his other hand.

“Can’t a woman see her own husband?” You said, head hanging low as you watched him intently as you ran a finger on top of the shelves, checking to see if there was any dust.

“Surely can” he said, walking around the desk to sit on his chair, elbows holding his upper body straight. “A good wife can, but you don’t fit there, do you?”

You placed a hand to your chest, acting shocked and pouted a little to add up to the pretend.

“How could you say something so rude to your dear wife?” You said in a monotonous voice, a giggle following right after as you turned around, going to the shelves and scanning the leather covers of those old, dusty books. “I suppose I could do a better job, right?”

“What do you want?” He asked, voice growing tense, but you just kept on going.

“I don’t talk back, I don’t deny things, I don’t scream, I have always kept myself in the lines of the contract you made me sign…” you turned once more, walking in the direction of his desk, each step you took made a hair stand on his body. “Always let you treat me like nothing more than shit, even laid on your bed and let you fuck me like a lifeless body, right?”

His clear eyes met yours, the colors not as clear as the anger behind them, and you were drinking him in. Leaning to his ear, you whispered: “And still, you had to break the rules, and bring my sister.”

Leaning back, you saw his tensed-up body and furious gaze over you, quickly softening into an unfazed expression. He twirled on his chair and crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

“Sometimes I like to give you the benefit of the doubt and think you’re a smart woman” he leans back, opening his legs in a more relaxed pose. “But then, you open your mouth and I realize how dumb you are.”

You clicked your tongue and a dry laugh fell from your lips.

“You think you have any power?” He kept going. “You are nothing to me. You are just as disposable as any other, don’t you know?”

With a slight frown, you threw your head to the side, dangling one of your foot in the air as you jumped to sit on top of his desk.

“I’m not as disposable since you married me” you pointed out. “You actually need me.”

“Correction: I need your quirk” he replied with a sly smile. “You are not the only one with this ability.”

You scoffed. His words made your blood boil, but you still had a point to make. You knew he was trying to deflect and leave this conversation with a winning crown, but you held the golden card under your sleeve.

“But I’m your only choice right now” you clicked your tongue once more, throwing him a pitying look, almost mocking his sarcasm. “Because, you see, the only ones who have this kind of quirk is either me, or Kiyo. And if you get rid of me, not only it would be a scandal, but you wouldn’t be able to be with her, since she’s still 17. You have a reputation to keep, right, number 4?”

Long shot, but it has to work.

His face dropped, eyes boring into your soul. Good.

“Even when she gets to 18, most eyes are on her since she’s one of the promising students of UA, and you aren’t a stranger to the cameras. Imagine how big the headlines would be: ‘Superhero Illume remarries ex-wife’s sister’… catchy.”

In a quick movement, you were thrown on your back to the wooden surface, head knocking a lamp that splattered on the floor, a nasty cut now marked your shoulder as the robe fell from your upper body. Your breath hitched and you were quickly aware that he had his hand on your throat, holding you down.

“What the fuck are you even trying to accomplish here?” His words were thrown like bombs, but you didn’t care.

Your hands fell to where his met your neck and you didn’t even bother to pull them away, just letting them linger for a moment as a sweet smile formed on your lips.

“What do you want?” He asked through gritted teeth.

You threw your body to the side, leg kicking him on the hip while he was distracted by your expression and you recomposed yourself as he held onto the newly formed bruise.

It was risky, but you knew what you had to do.

“Let Kiyo out of this. I don’t want her to know about your stupid plan or the contract” you sat yourself on the desk again, pulling the edges of the robe on your shoulders and feeling the blood stick to the soft peach fabric. “You leave her out and I will be your trophy wife.”

His hand was still cupping his hip, he leaned back, giving you space to jump off the desk, but as soon as you did, he caged your body between his arms, the light colors of his eyes sparkling against yours with rage.

But there was something else. Maybe frustration? Worry? Fear?

“Don’t try that shit on me again. Ever” he said behind a frown, beads of sweat building on his forehead. “You don’t have anything against me.”

“I’m the only one that will carry your child” you said in a whisper. “And there’s many ways I could also get rid of it. Don’t ever think I will hold any type of affection for something that’s part of you.”

He kept his stare cold.

“You have six months” he stated. “Six months to bear me a child, until then, I will leave your sister alone.”

You felt your breath hitch, but you stayed composed. With that, he let you free of his imprisonment and you walked away from his desk, stopping by the door when he called your name once again. The smile he had stamped on his face gave you the creeps.

“You fail, she pays.”

Blood drew inside your mouth from biting your bottom lip too hard and you turned around, closing the door behind you and heading to your room quickly. When you got there, you turned the lock and rushed to your dresser, searching for the fake bottom and finding the small purse you kept hidden.

Opening it, you stared at its contents for a little too long, feeling sick to your stomach as tears began to build in your eyes. You held the small package between your fingers, the foil coating ripping open the skin of your palms as a sob fell from your lips, and you had to cover your mouth before they could be too audible.

You walked over to the bathroom, still holding the small piece of plastic as you looked to your toilet.

You married Akio knowing what you were getting into. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you knew what you had at stake, how many threads you held that were being cruelly braided by destiny, and how you wanted to avoid it. You sacrificed your freedom, your career, your life for that, just so she could live as an eagle; strong, smart and free.

Throwing the birth control pills in the bowl, you felt your heart break. The last thread of freedom you had for yourself was now there, thrown away, just like everything you had to give up.

There is no other way, you kept trying to remind yourself.

The burning in your throat from the sobs combined with the stinging from the new bruises that Akio’s fingers left and you cried silently on the floor of your bathroom, pitying yourself from what was coming.

[chimielie]

sadie hawkins dance

summary: Oikawa x F! Reader. High school. Pure fluff. Makki won’t let Oikawa drool over you in peace. The rest of the Seijoh Four are there for like, two seconds.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: I got midway through an Akaashi angst fic and then decided I hated it. Have this instead. I’m in love with his dumb ass and a sucker for “fuckboy is too nervous to talk to the girl he has real feelings for.” Warning for swearing and kissing and m*rriage. You will get a cavity and extremely mild secondhand embarrassment, probably.

There’s a flower tucked behind your ear, petals soft and bleeding darker and darker pink toward the middle. Oikawa sighs and leans harder on his elbow, chin tucked into his palm, eyes focused on you, a bright smile stretched across your face as you talk to a gaggle of your friends. He’s supposed to be completing a Japanese Literature assignment with Makki, who is not-so-covertly focused on his phone instead of the worksheet, which works perfectly for Oikawa’s purposes.

He stares at the flower, wondering if someone gave it to you, brushed your hair back and slid the stem into place, and his heart pangs with jealousy. He envies them. He doesn’t blame them.

“Hey, ‘Kawa,” Hanamaki’s snarky voice lifts Oikawa off his cloud, and he swivels his head to look at the strawberry head. “What’cha looking at?”

His tone is as shitty as Oikawa’s is when he talks to Iwaizumi, and he wonders briefly if he could smack Makki on the head and call it a day.

“You know what.” Oikawa grumbles. “Begone, gremlin.” Makki perches on his desk and Oikawa remembers that the other boy is much more dedicated to being annoying than himself.

“Shame you got paired with me,” he smirks. “You should ask to trade partners.”

“Oh, no,” Oikawa says, eyes wide. “No, that would go very badly.” Makki squints. Oikawa flushes.

“You’re friends, I thought? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” and Oikawa’s tone is accusatory, annoyed that anyone would ever even hypothetically imply that you might not be one hundred percent angelic. “But I don’t— have you ever seen me talk to girls?”

“Uh, yeah, dude,” Makki says, shifting. Oikawa cranes his neck around him to keep an eye on you, your hair shiny and bouncy under the fluorescent classroom lights. “All the time, actually, it’s fucking annoying.” Like everything Makki says, it’s lighthearted and easy, and Oikawa takes no offense.

“Exactly. I can’t talk to her,” he says quietly, and Makki leans closer.

“What?” Oikawa huffs and looks to the side.

“I said Ican’ttalktoher.” Makki’s brow is still furrowed, trying to understand the rushed words. Oikawa opens his mouth, ready to make the shameful admission for the third time, before his friend’s expression clears and he whoops.

“Bro!” Oikawa groans and slumps over, crossing his arms on the little space of his desk not taken up by Hanamaki’s bony ass and hiding his face in them. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“I never kid,” Oikawa says, words muffled. “Shut up.”

“No,” Makki says decisively. “And your dramatic ass is probably just exaggerating. You’re friends, and friends talk.”

“I wish they didn’t,” Oikawa raises his head to stare balefully at him, one eye squinted.

“So it can’t be that bad,” Makki continues, as though he’d never spoken. “Just ask her out! Then everything will be chill.”

“How would that make things chill?” Sitting fully up, the two boys stare at each other, stubborn expressions on both faces.

“She’ll either say no, and you can weep for a few days and then move on,” Oikawa doesn’t like this option, and he sneaks another glance at you, now laughing boisterously across the room from him. His lips tug up in a smile. “Or she’ll say yes, and you guys can date before she gets tired of you and dumps you, and you can weep for a few months and then move on.” Oikawa stares up at Makki, mouth ajar in horror.

“Take it back.”

“No.”

“You just Murphy’s Law-ed us! Take it back! Take it back now!” Oikawa smacks him, and Makki topples off the desk, landing in a heap of pink hair and bony knees on the floor.

“Fine! You’ll ask her out, and you’ll get married and have twenty kids and live happily ever after. Ow, fuck.”

“Deserved,” Oikawa snaps. “And it’s not that easy, man. I told you.”

“Yeah, it is,” Makki says, standing and brushing off his shoulders and thighs. “Watch.”

Oikawa’s gaze slides back to you, and your head is tilted back, face upturned, flower slipping slightly— he snaps his focus back to Makki, who is insistently poking the arm of the girl sitting at the desk next to Oikawa.

“Hey. Hey. Aika-chan. Hey. Look at me.”

“What’s up?” Aika looks at him, her friends tittering around her. Oikawa internally grimaces for Makki.

“Go out with me? This Friday. I’ll pay for your fries.”

“No,” she says easily, and her friends start laughing for real. Makki shrugs, and she pats his shoulder. “Nice try, sport. Maybe next time.”

“I’ll check back in with you in a week,” he says, winking, over-dramatic, and a grin splits her face. He turns back to Oikawa. “See?”

“No? You were rejected.”

“Ah, but she said I could try again,” Makki points out, wiggling his finger in Oikawa’s face. Oikawa grabs it and bends it back. “Ow— ow! Okay, geez.”

Oikawa lets go, and catches a glimpse of the teacher staring at them disapprovingly.

“We should probably start working,” he says, and Makki compliantly slides back to his own desk, shitty expression still on his face.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you say, catching up to him in the hall as he exits the classroom. “How’s it going?”

Makki, walking on Oikawa’s other side, snorts and elbows him.

“Not— not bad!” He says brightly. “It’s going.” He trails off, but the response is still somewhat sensical, much to his relief.

“Cool,” you say, smiling at him, and he short-circuits. The next few steps are spent in silence, before you pipe up again. “What’d you think of today’s assignment? Question three was worded so badly, it was like two different prompts? How am I supposed to answer all of that in a singular sentence. What did you get?”

Oikawa is still beating himself up for not asking how you were.

“Um, uh, um, we didn’t really… get there?” You nod understandingly.

“Too busy beating up Makki?”

“Ha, yeah,” he says. “Uh, not that I’m violent. I swear. He deserved it.”

“I’m sure. Oh, this is my class. See you later!” You hip-bump him before walking away. Oikawa trips over his shoelace and falls flat on his face.

“Wow,” Makki comments. “That was somehow both better and worse than what I’d expected.”

“Worse,” Oikawa mumbles. “It was worse.”

He’d been a better conversationalist when you’d first met. You had been down-to-earth, refreshing, funny but serious when you needed to be. He’d been able to talk to you for hours, FaceTiming you almost every day, truly counting you as a friend. And then he’d caught feelings, and now he stutters over every sentence and falls all over himself for your touch.

And he doesn’t really mind it.

“Shittykawa’s in loooooove,” Makki singsongs as they enter the gym, dodging Oikawa’s reach before he could gag him.

“Yeah, we know,” Matsukawa says. “He stopped yelling at us about punctuality when he started showing up late because of her.”

“He keeps asking me to review his texts to her,” Iwaizumi adds. “I don’t understand why he has fangirls. You suck at flirting.” He kicks Oikawa gently.

“I do not! Wait until you’re in love, Iwa-chan,” he says, sticking his tongue out at his best friend. “You’ll see. You’ll be worse at it then me, ‘cause you already don’t get girls.”

“Tell that to your mom,” Iwaizumi snorts.

“Speaking of love,” Hanamaki croons, grabbing Oikawa’s face (a flaming crimson shade) and turning him in the direction of the gym doors. “Someone’s here for you!”

The other boys fall silent, staring mutely at you, standing just inside the doors, hands in your pockets. The sound of balls hitting the floor and squeaky shoes echo in the background, strengthening the awkwardness of the already uncomfortable scene.

“Hi,” you say, and your voice is like music. “Can I talk to Oikawa?”

He stands, frozen, looking at you, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, and thinks, my time has come. The angel of death has come to take me. What a way to go.

He follows you outside, mutely.

You lean against the gym wall, and he stares at you, absorbing every detail of your face. The sweep of your eyelashes, the curve of your lower lip, the shape of your brow.

“Hi,” you say again, and it’s quieter, your breath fanning out over his face. He takes a step back, worried that he’s in your personal space.

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Updog?” The moment shatters, and you bust out laughing. He smacks himself in the face, but can’t help laughing along when you look up at him like you think he’s something to be admired in all his stupidity.

“Yeah,” you say, still half-laughing. “For sure, bro.” There’s another moment of silence, somehow much more comfortable, more intimate, than it was before. “Look, Tooru, I’m kind of making a leap here—” his heart stops in his chest. “I hope that’s okay. I don’t have a letter or anything.”

You smile self-deprecatingly, and he wants to kiss the expression off your face, but he’s frozen, an insect suspended in amber.

“I really like you,” you say clearly. “And I wanted to ask— um—” you bite your lip. He can’t tear his wide eyes away from the sight. “Are you free sometime, to get ice cream with me? I know your schedule is—”

He kisses you. First kisses, he’s found from a lot of practice, are awkward, messy, a human ritual of learning someone else. He learns that you fit with him perfectly, that when he rubs his thumb over your hip it seems like he’s done it a thousand times before, that kissing you is like coming home. A dam breaks in his chest. The words that were stuck flood freely out of him.

You break apart, eyes wide, communicating silently. Did you feel that? I felt it too.

“Practice ends at five. I’ll run home, and shower, and make myself pretty for you.” Your close-lipped smile is like spring wildflowers, or butterflies, gentle, delicate. He kisses you again, because he can’t help it. “You’ll have time to do homework and all, and eat dinner, and I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that okay?”

He’s breathless and clumsy in love, but it’s okay, because you look at him just like he looks at you.

The flower in your hair flutters to the ground. It’s okay, because he’ll give you enough for a lifetime.

Ten years later, Hanamaki claims it was all his design. You throw your bouquet at him, and he falls back, clutching his chest like he’s been shot. You don’t see it, too busy leaning up to kiss your newlywed husband. Tooru is careful not to knock the flower crown off your head.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Harry's Daughter Rose Get's Sick on the One Direction Tour Bus (singledad!harry)

AN: so i turned this Single Dad Harry & His Daughter Rose (journey through life) into a series where i'll write blurbs and maybe a one shot here and there. people seem to love this story so i'm happy to write for it.

This story contains: puking, child crying, comfort

{ singledad!harry - Prince Harry (2014 ish) - Rose age 2 }

word count: 1104

Rose wakes up sick to her little tummy on the One Direction tour bus and Harry cleans her up and all his bandmates help him out and clean up the mess she made with her sick.

On the tour bus, Harry and Rose usually shared a bunk. She's so small that it isn't a big issue. But tonight, Rose was attached to Niall. She fell asleep on Niall's chest when her bedtime rolled around and when they tried to move her, she's just start whining and crying. So Niall told Harry that Rose could just sleep with him in his bunk for the night and Harry agreed.

Harry did think it was weird that Rose had been cranky through-out the day, but didn't put too much thought into it. She is going through her terrible two's after all. But when he's suddenly being woken up by a loud scream coming from Niall's bunk, her moodiness correlating to her terrible two's goes flying out the window. Something else is wrong.

Harry is quick to jump from his bunk and barley has time to let his eyes adjust to the lights before Niall screams, "Harry, oh God. Come ere'." Thinking Rose might be seriously hurt or worse, Harry paces to Niall's bunk and immediately is hit with the stench of vomit. Then he sees Niall gagging into his bare arm. Getting a closer look, Harry sees puke all over Niall's sheets and running down his left arm.

As soon as Rose sees her daddy, she screams a heartbreaking cry, "Daddy, daddy, daddy." making grabby hands. Harry's little girl is covered in her own sick and shook up from the entire experience presumably.

Without second thoughts, Harry reaches into Niall's bunk and lifts up Rose, not caring if he gets covered in throw up. "Shh my love, you alright? Was your tummy just hurting?" he soothingly asks his daughter, but she just tries to burry herself deeper into her daddy's body and wails a loud cry that has Louis, Liam, and Zayn awaking and coming out their bunks to see the commotion.

"Mate, why is she crying for?" Louis asks in a Donny accent but soon sees the scene in front of him and realizes Rose has just been sick.

When Liam sees what's happening, he's quick to say, "Harry, take her to the toilet (the bathroom) and I'll clean up her vomit." Liam has always been the responsible one and the one who does the jobs no one else is willing to do, so cleaning up a bit of sick isn't a problem for him. He's cleaned all of his bandmates sick at some point or another so he can handle a two year olds puke without any problems.

Zayn on the other hand is quick to get back into his bunk, not being able to handle throw up. Just like Niall except Niall got unlucky and was the one who got puked on. That's why Louis goes over to Niall and is trying to comfort him because he's trying not to be sick himself.

Harry walks into the mini bus bathroom holding Rose to his chest and shuts the door, giving them a bit of privacy. He tries to set her on the top of the counter but she refuses, grasping tightly around his neck. "Baby, is your tummy still hurting? I need to know so I can help you."

Rose lifts her head from Harry's shoulder and mumbles, "Yeah, it wrilly hurts daddy." Harry takes that as a sign to go in front of the toilet and kneel down, holding Rose over the bowl. She lets out a few grunting gags before expelling more puke out her tiny mouth. Harry winces at the sight because he hates to see his daughters so sick. It breaks his heart.

Out of the bathroom, Louis has helped Niall clean the vomit off his arm and side, in the mini kitchen on the bus. And Liam has striped Niall's sheets and disinfected the walls and what puke that got on the floor. Zayn is laying in his bunk on his phone, trying to distract himself from what's happening around him.

Rose finally stops throwing up and Harry strips her clothes off, as well as his own (he left his boxers on), and stepped into the buses shower. He cleans them off and removes all puke that got on their bodies. The whole time, Rose wouldn't let go of her daddy. Almost as if he would disappear any second which is far from the truth.

Liam brings them two towels and searches through Roses' luggage to find her some clean sleep ware. He also brings Harry some dry boxers and has managed to put new sheets on Niall's bed. By the time Harry and Rose leave the bus bathroom all fresh and clean, everyone else was settling back into their designated bunks, ready to resume their sleep.

When Harry approaches his bunk, he sees where Liam was kind enough to leave a bucket on the floor beside his bed incase Rose needed to be sick again. Harry slips into his bunk with his daughter Rose to his chest, and holds her into his body heat. Her eyes slowly shuts by the seconds that pass.

When fully laying back down, Harry whispers to his baby girl, "If your tummy starts hurting again, please tell daddy alright. I have a bucket you can use. I love you my darling."

She mutters back, "Wove you." not being able to pronounce her L's very well. Harry gives her wet, clean curls a kiss and rubs his hand over her bony back, hoping to help her fall asleep easier. The covers are pulled up over their bodies and her tiny face is stuffed into Harry's shoulder length, damp hair.

The next day when they awoke, Rose was fine and they never figured out why she got sick in the night. Harry thanked his bandmates and friends for helping out with his daughter because he knows for a fact he wouldn't be able to have done it alone. Single parenting is hard, but even harder when you're on a tour bus and traveling all the time. They always step in and help with Rose when needed and he couldn't me more grateful for the people in his life.

(just edited this at 2 am so sorry for mistakes. this is my last fic before i leave my house to evaluate for the hurricane, so peace out and enjoy)

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series One Shots Masterlist (for my one shots that go with a series universe)

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

[naddpod-encounter-tourney]

A showdown between finales!

Cerenysus:

We begin in the Autumn Ring, with Irina’s mind poisoned by the corruption on the ritual by her sister, Heradecia.

She summons living spells and tries to turn Fia into a book. Fia finally uses the time stop scroll and uses it to buff herself to hell. Zirk invisibly fires from behind Irina. Hank stays consistent. Heradecia teleports out.

We then find the Hexbuds, approaching the scorched grove where they can find her surrogate mother. They share an intense closed-loop hug, and turn to face her. Jabari stays back. Tarragon gets close. Corbeaux gets trapped by bony hands. They move around the space, taking damage for each other and attempting to stop her spells. 3 soldiers, capable of fighting like 300. The Hexblood Centurions.

Back in Autumn, Hank goes down because he’s the only one visible. Irina strikes while he’s down, taking a death save. And, as @theatricuddles sent me in an ask, Fia only turns to strike Irina after that moment.

After many rounds of battle, Irina is finally unconscious, thanks to a soft finish by Fia. She is held in Fia’s arms, as Zirk prepares to take off the crown. Fia says, "Foolish tenderness, but I'm going to cast Sanctuary on Irina". (thanks to @theatricuddles for the quote reminder). In the words of Murph, “we’re leaving it up to a Caldwell roll.” No one stays sitting in the two-dio. Zirk comes close. Makes a deal with a winter fairy. Fails again. Dies. At some point, Lou Wilson stands up from the table and puts his head against a closet.

Jabari is put under a banishment spell, and Tarragon and Corbeaux have a difficult time taking her on just the two of them. Jabari realizes he’s in a bad place when the toads are wet, and works hard to get himself out.

Henry is given a chance to get the crown. Fia tells him not to. She sees what protecting Irina has cost her and cannot let it continue. Henry refuses. He takes the risk. He gets the crown. Zirk is revivified by Fia. Irina, back in control of herself, teleports them to her sister.

Hank gets some hits on Heradecia. Corbeaux nearly goes down, and is saved by Tarragon’s Death Ward. Jabari screamed “let’s kill her” upon his return, and is able to do just that, trisecting her.

The Hexbuds return to Outerborough. Jabari becomes Chancellor. The Hexbloods become his cabinet. They have a ritual to atone their mother.

The Third Mates assign Bukvar to sort the souls and make sure no one gets stuck waiting, as souls had been for years. Hank gets his divorce. Zirk works harder on the all-cure. They get their boat, and head to sea. Irina and Fia make it official.

Heart of the World:

The Boobs take the Stormborn to the Court of Gods. They write letters to their loved ones and put them in the contingency cubby.

After a bit of a difficult trek, they happen upon a wall where they can hear the wishes and prayers of the citizens of Bahumia. They offer a “We are here for you” in return, and are rejuvenated by the reaction to their presence.

Once they get close, they call their berserkers. Moonshine turns them into elephants, then summons pixies to make the elephants fly. The Titans of Bahumia fly into battle Thiala on elephants. (Murph is given the chance to leave Emily over any of that bullshit if he so pleases).

The battle with Thiala begins. She brings back Galad. Hardwon does 297 freaking damage in the first turn. 1,082 total by the end of the fight. Moonshine uses cantrips where they count. Bev takes on his own fungal form, and eventually casts a bonus action revivify on Hardwon. Balnor dukes it out with some angels.

They see what the mind of Thiala wants them to experience. I cannot do the flashbacks as much justice as @misslevel, so here are those comments on them from last round.

Thiala takes a second form. Uses Alanis and Ulfgar to harness their energy and make things worse. Tries to actually destroy Melora’s heart, holding the world together. Moonshine uses Handy Andy to steal Erlin, he’s freed from the gem, and able to help heal everyone. Bev, Balnor, and Hardwon keep swinging.

Nearing the end and fearing things will get so much worse (Balnor and Hardwon keep going down), Moonshine casts Shapechange and turns into a Gold Dragon. She eats Thiala.

The Titans of Bahumia return their divine heart fragments to Melora, as they were just borrowing it. They give Pelor his heart back, resurrecting him. They save the last one for the Dusk Mother, and give her rule over the one hells, renaming it The Ruby Dawn.

Old Alanis, the traveler, returns, and asks Balnor if he’s ready. He says tearful goodbyes and returns to his timeline, ready to destroy the hounds and save his village. “It’s okay, Balnor. I knew like all the most powerful things in this world, I was only borrowing you.”

We move forward in time. They start finishing off Akarot. Set up the ritual to destroy the Hellfire Crown. Hardwon visits his father in Kord’s Great Hall. Bev and Erlin get to be kids.

A year later, they return to Moonstone for the Jamboreen.

Moonshine reacquaints herself with the dragon she hatched and invites him to live with her at the Crick. Hardwon asks for the same offer, and it is given quickly. They read Balnor’s letter by the fire. Our story then ends where it began, in The Hungry Trout Tavern.

[marvelous-writer]

Lost in Space

Chapter 2: Home

Tony doesn’t know how long he’s been out for when he’s suddenly aware of a faint brightness behind his closed eyes. He tries to ignore it, only it grows brighter with each passing second. He frowns, tilting his head to the side in hopes to escape it, only for the brightness to increase. Tony opens his eyes, only to slam them shut once again, weakly raising his arm up to shield his face from the light.

But… it’s unlike any light he’s ever seen before.

It almost looks like a small star, floating in space right in front of him.

Tony’s frown deepens into curiosity as he lowers his arm as the light comes closer to the ship, decreasing in size and brightness ever so slightly.

It’s a woman.

Or… is she an angel?

“I’m dead.” Tony thinks to himself in a sudden realization, his sluggish mind starting to come back online.

That’s when he becomes aware of a weight in his arms. Tony blinks, confused and looks down, only to find Peter in his lap, out like a light. But… how did he get here? The last thing he remembers is sitting by the kid’s cot while he slept before he came up here to record a message to Pepper and then… nothing. He must have fallen asleep. He doesn’t remember sitting in one of the ship’s pilot chairs though.

It feels like a cold, electric shock runs through his body at the sight of the teen’s ghastly appearance.

That’s all it takes for Tony’s brain to come back online as he moves his arm up and gently shakes Peter’s bony shoulder.

“Pete…” Tony mumbles, licking his overly dry lips. “Pete… wake up, bud.”

No response.

Tony shakes him a little harder. “Pete?”

Still nothing.

The only thing that reassures him is seeing the slow rise and fall of the kid’s chest as he breathes, although it seems like he’s starting to have a hard time.

Panic seizes Tony’s chest as he stares down at the teenager in his arms, only for his head to snap up at the woman before him, who is now looking at him with a concerned expression.

“P-Please, you have to help us. H-He’s–He needs help.” Tony tells her, unsure if she can even hear him through the thick windshield.

The woman frowns at him as she raises a hand, motioning to her ear.

She can’t hear him.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind him causes Tony to look over his shoulder only to find Nebula standing at his side, her dark eyes wide with curiosity at the sight of the woman.

She opens her mouth, but Tony beats her to it.

“Is there a way we can talk to her?”

Nebula looks down at the control panel in front of them. “There would be if the ship was online…” she says as she turns away, kneeling down in front of a satchel and starts rummaging around in it, only to pull out a wrinkled piece of paper and what looks to be a pen of some kind. She scribbles something down and stands up, slapping the paper against the windshield.

The woman reads the paper, only for her face to set into a serious expression as she straightens, looking between them before she floats down and out of their sight.

Panic seizes up in Tony’s chest, thinking that she was leaving them, only to feel the ship lurch suddenly. Peter’s head rolls off his shoulder at the force of it and Tony barely manages to tighten his grip on him, saving the poor kid from tumbling to the hard metal floor.

The stars in front of them start to blur as the ship starts to move.

They’re moving.  

Nebula’s hand falls to Tony’s shoulder and he turns his eyes away from the windshield to meet her’s, finding the corners of her mouth pulled up into a small, relieved smile. He reaches a free, shaky hand up and she grasps his, gently squeezing.

They’re going home.  

Tony looks back down at Peter in his arms before he closes his eyes, praying that Peter will make it.

…

When the Milano touches down on the ground outside of the Compound, Tony doesn’t get the chance to let out a sigh of relief because he’s now consumed with worry about Peter and getting him medical attention. Nebula disappears for a few long seconds to open up the ship’s ramp until she returns, only for the mysterious woman to be with her, now unglowing.

“Tony Stark. I'm Carol Danvers,” the woman greets as she walks over, only for her eyes to fall to Peter, her brows pulling together in concern. “Let’s get you guys off this ship.” She says as she holds out her hands towards Peter to lift him, pausing for a moment to look at Tony for permission.

Tony shakily nods, shoving down the wave of fierce protectiveness of Peter as she carefully picks the teen up in her arms. Nebula is at Tony’s side, helping him shakily get to his feet as they lead the way out of the ship.

For the first time in weeks, Tony’s met with the welcoming smell of fresh air and a cool breeze once his feet hit the ship’s stairs, leading down to the moist dew-covered grass.

“Careful, take one step at a time.” Nebula tells him as she helps him make his way down the steep steps, keeping a firm, yet gentle hand on his arm and back.

When they’re near the bottom, Tony looks up at the sound of rushed footfalls, only for his eyes to land on none other than Steve Rogers. Tony’s surprised to feel a wave of relief wash through him at the sight of the man, but he has bigger things to worry about at the moment than his feud with his ex-teammate. Steve reaches up to grab Tony’s arm to help him down the rest of the way but Tony feels Nebula’s arm tighten ever so slightly around him. He glances at her, finding her to be looking at Steve, uncertain.

“It’s alright,” Tony gently tells her, managing a small, reassuring smile.

She nods as Steve gently takes his arm and helps him slowly down the rest of the stairs. Tony is almost panting with exhaustion now from all of the movement, his legs shaking weakly under him when they finally step foot on the ground.

“Couldn’t stop him,” Tony says to Steve, only for the man to stop and look at him with a serious expression on his face. “I… t-the kid–Steve he’s–”

Footsteps coming down the metal stairs has both of them turning their heads, only to see Carol walking down the stairs with an unconscious Peter in her arm. One of Peter’s arms dangles limply at his side, his head resting against the her shoulder.

Steve’s face falls at the sight of him, only for his brows to pull together in both confusion and worry as he looks back at Tony. He opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by rushing footsteps through the dewy grass.

Pepper is suddenly standing in front of them, and Tony feels like a massive weight has been lifted from his heart at the sight of her.

“Oh my God,” Pepper says, her eyes puffy and red from crying as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around him in a hug. “My baby.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut as he wraps his arms around her, letting out a shaky, relieved breath, taking in the familiar and comforting smell of her favorite lavender perfume she’s always used since they first met all those years ago.

He spent countless days fearing that Pepper had been one of the many victims of Thanos’ snap.

But she isn’t.

She’s right here in his arms, alive .

Pepper pulls back with a wet sniff and Tony can see tears streaming down her cheeks. He offers her a weak reassuring smile as he kisses her cheek.

“It’s okay.” He tells her.

Tony watches as Carol walks past them, catching a look at Peter’s unresponsive, pale face before he disappears as she walks further ahead of them.

Nothing’s okay.

And it won’t be until Peter is better… if he gets better.

Tony meets Steve’s eyes once again, seeing the soldier looking at him with a knowing expression. “Let’s get you both inside.”

…

Everything is a blur to Tony as he finds himself in the medbay, Bruce forcing him to take a seat and be treated. No matter how forceful he has been with not being treated, Bruce still managed to put an IV in him. Tony could care less about his own well-being at the moment, not with Peter lying unconscious in the bed in front of him. The only thing Tony has been able to do in the past hour and a half is watch Bruce work, rushing around the room to grab the necessary items he needs to treat Peter. It took Bruce awhile to get the poor kid settled into one of the medbay beds, hook him up to multiple machienes, changed out of the spare chage of clothes they’d found on the Milano and into a hospital get-up.

Bruce is now writing on a clipboard, closely monitoring Peter's vitals.

“How is he, Bruce?” Tony asks, interrupting the tense silence in the room.

Bruce glances up at him over his glasses as he breathes out a sigh, lowering the clipboard in his hands as he takes his glasses off. He looks up at Peter for a moment, only to look back at Tony. “I’m not going to lie to you, Tony… he’s in rough shape. He has the worst case of malnourishment I’ve ever seen, his glucose levels are in the toilet, he’s severely dehydrated, his body mass index is so low… he’s not looking good. His body is so weak right now… he’s in a coma-like state because his body is trying to correct itself but there’s just too much damage for it to handle.”

Tony feels like a knife is stabbed through his chest. He’s pieced the kid’s symptoms together in his head and he knows things are dire… but hearing someone else, a medical professional, say it out loud… it’s hard to hear.

Tony swallows hard around the growing lump in his throat. “You can help him… right?” He asks, ignoring the way his voice shakes at the end.

Bruce lets out another sigh as he reaches a hand up to rub his forehead, nodding. “I’m going to try,” He says, dropping his hand as he looks at Tony with a serious expression. “I’m going to try with everything I’ve got. But I will warn you, Tony… it’s not going to be easy. With Peter’s enhancements, especially his metabolism… it’s going to be tricky. He’s in for a long recovery. I am hopeful. All we can do is treat him… and just give his body time to heal.” He says. “And you as well for that matter. You also went through a great deal, Tony. You need to rest as well.”

Tony lets out a sigh as he leans back in the wheelchair Rhodey and Bruce forced him into. “I’ll rest…” he says, his eyes falling back onto Peter, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. “...when Peter wakes up.”  

He hears Bruce let out a small sigh at that. “Tony, you know he wouldn’t want you to not take care of yourself because of him.”

It’s a low blow… but he’s right. Tony knows that Peter would scold him up and down for not taking care of himself but he can’t find it in himself to do anything and leave Peter. What if something went wrong while he left? What if the kid woke up and got scared with being in a different place all alone? Or worse… what if he suddenly took a turn for the worse and Tony came back only to discover the kid flatlined?

Tony closes his eyes against the horrible, intrusive thoughts, tightly gripping the arm of the wheelchair.

Peter is a strong kid. He’s going to pull through this, just like he has countless times before when he got hurt on patrol.

He has to.

But if he doesn’t… Tony wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Tony opens his eyes at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway, only to turn to face the door, only to see Rhodey standing there. Rhodey steps into the room, his face falling at the sight of Peter lying in the bed, nodding in greeting at Bruce before he looks at Tony.

“Sorry to interrupt but the team wants to have a meeting upstairs.” He says.  

Tony glances over at Bruce, who nods at him, almost regretfully. “I’ll stay here with him while you go but you’re coming back down here to rest when the meeting’s over.”

Tony opens his mouth but Rhodey beats him to it. “I’ll make sure he does.”

Tony shoots his friend a glare. “Traitor.”

Rhodey just shrugs with a small grin as he moves to the back of the wheelchair and unlocks it, starting to wheel Tony out into the hallway. “Doctor’s orders, Tones. Not much I can do.”

Tony turns his head and spares one last glance back at Peter before they turn the corner of the doorframe and head down the hallway.

[stylesann]

Rebuilding

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Steve decides to go back to the 40’s and you hurt.

Warnings: idk? Angst but happy ending

A/N: I have no idea what this is but aaa I feel like it’s bad lol, I just always get in a very angsty and dramatic mood every time that I read a story about Steve leaving so I wanted to do my own twist? Idk, and it’s been yeaaaars since I don’t write anything and also I’m not a native English speaker so I apologise any mistakes. Comments are always welcome 💕 -> written in around 15/04/2021; ->posted 28/05/2021

Masterlist

You stare at the ocean and release all the air you were holding on your lungs. You still felt your body heavy but at least your tears had stoped. You’re fighting hard to keep your thoughts out of your head, to keep your mind calm like the scenario in front of you, an empty beach with the ocean waves rhythmically hitting the shore. The sky had a lot of clouds and it would probably rain soon, but you didn’t mind, it matched you mood.

You could say you were surprised but all you felt was disappointment, sadness and if you were being honest, you felt anger and jealousy. What Peggy had that you didn’t? I mean, you didn’t know the answer and you were sure if you had asked Steve he wouldn’t be able to give you one cause he had spent such a short amount of time with her that he couldn’t be able to actually know all of her. All her flaws, all the quirks. In the past you had thought he didn’t even loved her anymore and was just in love with an image, an illusion he had from his past. But for him to had left you for her you weren’t even sure of that anymore.

You also felt used, replaceable, like you were just kept there cause he couldn’t do better, cause he couldn’t be with her. And now that he could he just tossed you away. You knew Steve wasn’t that kind of guy, but thats how you felt. And no one could tell you how you should feel or deal with it.

So that’s what lead you here. It had all happened hours ago. You saw his old self in that bench and you just felt numb. Bucky tried to hold you, he said that Steve wanted to talk to you but you just left. You had that right didn’t you? You didn’t care about what he had to say, it was all bullshit. You didn’t care about his guilt, or how sorry he was. You didn’t even care to go back to the apartment you shared with him, because you knew if you had gone there you would be stared by a hundred pictures you had with him.

You just wanted to get away. So here you came. You look down to the wedding band on you finger and the engagement ring. You wore both together but it didn’t make sense to have them anymore. You didn’t want any memories from Steve on you so you take them out and feel their light weight on you palm. You knew this was it, it was your way of closure, of ending that part of you life. You take a deep breath and throw them at the sea. There’s no way of seeing them drown but just the thought that you didn’t have them anymore made you lighter.

You turn around, ready to go back to the car that brought you here but you see a familiar figure blocking the way. Bucky.

“How are you feeling, doll?” he says approaching you. You didn’t know how long he was standing there or what he had seen. You wonder if he could see how empty and drained you really were.

“In the moment I’m not feeling anything. I think I’m still mostly numb. But that’s probably for the best, right?” You try to give him a light answer knowing that he lost his best friend too. How could Steve have left him after fighting so long to have him back was beyond you. “Did you know? Did you know what he was gonna do?”

“I did” that was all it took for the tears to start falling from your eyes. Why had Steve told him and not you? You were his wife for gods sake didn’t you deserve at least this? Bucky reaches for you but you push him away.

“Why didn’t h-he tell me? Why did he d-do this?” you hiccup between the words, the tears falling harder than before.

“I think he just didn’t have the guts to. You know he loves you, Y/N-“

“Screw him! If he did, he wouldn’t have done this!” All the feelings you were trying to push down seem to come to surface and tighten their grip on your chest. “I can’t understand why you aren’t angry? Why aren’t you feeling betrayed?”

“He didn’t leave me alone Y/N, he asked us to take care of each other” he has a pleading look on his face while he says that, and you see that the difference between you and him is that he had some time to come to terms with his friends decision, he’s sad but keeping it to himself. He’s trying to be strong for everyone one else who didn’t know, for you mostly.

“I don’t care about what he asked. I’m not staying and I’m not doing what he would want me too. I’m always gonna be there for you Buck, not because he’s wants that but because I care about you. Whatever you need you can call, even if it’s just for a chat, but I’m not staying, i can’t. I am getting into that car and I’m gonna drive away as much as i can, and I’m only stopping when I feel like I’ve put miles between me and this” you say more calm than you were minutes before. You had a plan, it may not be the best one but that’s what you had for now. You didn’t want to be in the same place you lived with Steve, you didn’t want to see the same scenarios you saw with him, you wanted nothing from him. Maybe it was bitter of you, or maybe you didn’t have the best coping mechanism but you needed the distance.

Bucky’s expression seemed to sadden a bit but he understood, he knew this wasn’t easy for you. “I don’t want to change your mind about leaving, so I say the same, if you need anything you call Y/N, got it?” He says as he hugs you firmly.

“Got it” you say in whisper against his shoulder, his arms still around you delaying the last moments he’s gonna have with another friend. You hate to be doing this, he didn’t deserve it you knew it, but you also knew that he wouldn’t be willing to accompany you on your trip, and it was something that you needed to do alone. You were alone.

“You know he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t know you you be able to rebuild your life, right? You’re a strong person” He uses the same tone of voice you had, he probably just didn’t want to trigger you into making your feelings rise again.

“Everyone has the ability to rebuild themselves, Buck. The fact that I’m strong shouldn’t make what he did alright. And I don’t feel much strong now... I just feel like I’m a shell. And even if I do find someone else, how am I going to let them in? How am I supposed to trust anyone with my heart, when the guy I gave all my heart before completely destroyed me?” A single tear fall from your eye, but you hold the rest back. “I’m going to be fine but I don’t even know what that mean anymore.” He just nods to this, and I know there’s nothing left to be said so I head to the car and take a deep breath holding the wheel. This is it.

I look at Bucky while I drive away, he’s still standing where I left him and I hope with everything on me that he will be fine too. Whatever that means.

****************************

The sun is harsh on your eyes slipping through the curtains open frames. You turn your head to the other side and you feel a heavy weight on your waist stopping you from moving further than that. You slowly open your eyes to see Franks figure with his arm on you and his head drowned on the pillow.

You turn again to look at the clock to see it marking 8:47 am. Mary would be up soon, so you slip from Frank taking extra care not to wake him up and head to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can we have pancakes today?!” Mary breaks into the small kitchen excitedly jumping around. Today you and Frank would be taking her to her new math club and she couldn’t be more anxious about it.

“What is going on here” Franks rough morning voice appears on the room. He’s rubbing his eyes and seems to be sleeping still.

“We are making Mary her favourite pancakes for breakfast” you answer them as you get the ingredients on the counter. Mary hugs you and sits straight on the table waiting for you to prepare them.

It had been 6 years since the day you left New York and ended up traveling for a long time through the country only to end up here. Florida. It was hot all the time, you always felt warm but it was distant enough from your past and you felt better about it. You decided that you wanted to rent a small place near the beach and so you found a woman named Roberta, that rented a few houses that fulfilled your wish. You didn’t think twice before accepting her deal.

You weren’t carrying anything on you except for the few clothes that you had bought on your journey so the move was quite simple. And you weren’t expecting to fit in so well here but the fact that as soon as you were settled a little girl, who was maybe 7 at the time, had come to you with a lot of questions that honestly you couldn’t answer warmed you up to the place real fast.

The fact that Mary had managed to always meet up with you but you still had to meet Frank was beyond you. She talked a lot about him “Frank did this today”, “oh did you know Frank let me adopt another cat”, “the first cat Frank got us was Fred, he has only one eye”, and so on. You knew more about him that you probably would by talking to him in person, according to Mary herself. She said he was very closed but had a great heart, she even told you the story about him fighting in justice for her guard. It only made you think he was a great guy who would do anything to protect his niece, and you were sincerely excited to meet him, give the person a face.

However, as it appears that his schedule was always all over the place and you always waking around town and spending many hours on the beach didn’t help with your meeting. You didn’t understand at first too how Mary always found you around, but she explained that whenever she wasn’t studying and Frank was going out with his girlfriend Boni, she stayed with her friend Roberta, who quickly became a good acquaintance of yours.

Either way, Mary had been talking to you for weeks when you finally met Frank. You couldn’t believe your eyes and genuinely thought you were delusional. He looked just like Steve, but the moment he started speaking you could see the differences between the two and the helped you find your foot again.

In the beginning you were hesitant about spending time with Mary and Frank, who surprised Mary with the news that he had gotten a more stable job. According to him, he still fixed boats but for a company that payed well. You were happy for him but the memories his face brought still made you want distance.

During the four years you traveled around you had let him go, all of him. You had been trough all the grief stages and learnt how to do well with your own company, you didn’t need anyone else. But looking at his face had the effect of hitting you with a sad resigned feeling and you didn’t like it. But Mary always spoke so highly of her uncle that you knew keeping your distance from both because of memories wasn’t fair.

Frank, of course notice that you never iniciantes any conversation with him and he wondered if Mary had introduced the same woman she said was talkative and affectionated. He asked you about it and it wasn’t until you answered with sincerity that he understood. Since then he was more careful in your presence which you appreciated.

With time though, you warmed up to him, he was a good guy you never doubted that. You became close friends and when him and Boni broke up you helped him. It was a mutual break up but it’s never easy.

You friendship was going great until you notice him treating you differently than he would before and you realised he was slowly catching feelings for you. Obviously being romantically involved with him was the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to change the way things were going between you two and that’s what led you to this moment.

In a car, dropping Mary off to her math club, with Frank by your side and the promise that it would be okay. It had to. You took so long to let him in that now you didn’t want to let go, and you doubt Frank wanted anything but stay. Bucky said the same when he came to visit you and Frank. You look at him and you see him smile at you.

“You think he’s gonna be a mini genius?” He asks looking at the small bump on your belly.

“If he gets MY genes, obviously” I sass laughing.

“Ha, you know the genius genes it’s on my side of the family Mrs. Adler” he chuckles.

“On your dreams” you smile. It you be okay.

[eldrai]

Like Father, Like Son

Whumptober 2021 - day 2 - prompt: garrotte

Character: Hotch

Warnings: implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced child abuse, strangulation

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Vincent Perrotta is violent. He is dedicated. He is brutal and efficient. His potential pool of victims includes a handful of asphyxiation deaths.

He has nothing to lose.

ao3 link / masterpost

In cases of domestic violence, strangulation is one of the strongest predictors for homicide: a nonfatal strangulation incident makes the victim seven times more likely to be killed by that partner.

Of everything he’s learnt on the job, this stays with him.

Strangulation requires the physical strength to do so, as well as the intent. It’s much more personal than something like poisoning or even shooting and therefore more difficult to carry out. The same principle stands for any homicide. It indicates a deeply violent, deeply dedicated unsub.

(Is it inaccurate to say he learnt on the job? The exact statistics were new to him but he’d known how violent hands around a neck are. How it was never limited to just that.

He’d had a lot of ‘sore throats’ as a kid.)

Vincent Perrotta is violent. He is dedicated. He is brutal and efficient. His potential pool of victims includes a handful of asphyxiation deaths.

He has nothing to lose.

The junkyard is cluttered and their line of sight fragmented by the heaps of trash jutting out every which way; the impaired visibility has them spread out to cover the most ground. With backup waiting on their signal, everything is in place for Perrotta’s arrival.

It is a concentrated quiet: there isn’t much to do other than keep an eye out for their unsub or wait for the comms to crackle to life as someone else finds him. Aaron steps into place behind the rusted shell of a car; enough cover it isn’t immediately obvious he is there, but he’s got a good shot if Perrotta turns up.

His bet is on the man hopping the fence on the west, too clever to waltz through the front gate but arrogant enough to assume he’d outwit them. Morgan is positioned over there ready to intercept, and Reid and Greenaway take the small building at the opposite end of the yard.

“Anyone got anything?” Morgan’s voice comes through strong.

“Nothing on our end.” That’s Greenaway.

“He’ll be here,” Aaron says.

He settles back into position, both hands on his gun, carefully still. Wrappers rustle as the wind agitates them, whips dirt around on the chipped concrete. The chain-link fence rattles.

No movement.

He waits. Time slips by interminably slowly, as it tends to do on sting operations, with no distraction but nothing to be distracted from.

A rattling, tinny sort of noise to his left stops just as suddenly as it had started. Gun drawn, he picks his way through the junk. The silence settles in once again. Likely something blown loose in the breeze, a can rolling down the pile, any number of mundane things which shouldn’t register at all.

It’s a rat. In the corner of his eye, a blur of brownish-grey fur streaks past and he catches a glimpse of the tail before it vanishes under (into?) a different heap.

Jesus. He must really be bored if something so commonplace has him actually investigating it.

Gravel crunches and Aaron glances over his shoulder. Gideon must’ve heard it too. His main interest is his birds but he doesn’t doubt the man probably has a soft spot for other small creatures. They say rats are fairly intelligent – or is it mice? – after all.

His head jerks backwards.

Stumbling to maintain his balance, it is a dizzying moment before the pain sets in: a sharp pressure curving around his throat.

It throws him for a loop. He’s used to hands.

Aaron crashes into someone behind him and they stagger sideways. The impact knocks the air out of him. The pressure pulls taut.

He can’t breathe.

Shoes scuff against the ground. The sour smell of sweat. Heavy breathing.

(is this gonna be the time it goes too far is it feels like it)

The wire is thin and twice as effective as human hands. Instead of whittling away his ability to breathe, pressing in more and more and more, it disappears in an instant.

Hands are breakable. They are skin and muscle and bone. Push a finger back until the muscles twitch; jam a thumb into the wrist’s bony hollows; a thumb at the base of the neck hurts like hell.

Easy to read intent in someone who stands right in front of him. Someone whose eyes spark with malice right before he clamps down harder. The telltale twitch in their cheek in the moment they step forwards. To guess whether they’re going to let up or not.

Behind, Aaron has no idea. His best guess might be entirely wrong.

(go for the eyes that works he won’t let go but he’ll get weaker)

Gasping for oxygen and drowning in carbon dioxide, his chest burns even as he strains to breathe. His eyes water. Aaron breathes in and in and in. Nothing happens. He’s just making rasping, croaky sounds at the back of his throat.

He almost loses his footing, his knees going weak and his ears ringing, a high-pitched shrill scream. Aaron can’t. He can’t leverage his weight on that. He’d never breathe again. Never get back up.

Perrotta grunts. Must not have expected this resistance.

(what if he never wakes up this time what if what if what if)

His gun clatters to the ground as his hands go to his throat. For something so painful, the wire is remarkably small, his fingers sliding over it. Perrotta draws the ends together. It cuts into the sides of his neck, bearing down on the arteries.

Aaron turns his head sharply and the momentary slack in the wire is enough to get his fingers hooked around it. Perrotta kicks out at his knee and he stumbles, resists the instinct to let go.

It’s not enough.

Having his hands between the wire and his skin does nothing if he can’t move them, if he can’t buy himself some space to breathe. Instead of the wire, his own hands press down on his throat. He pulls with all the strength he can muster. It cuts into his fingertips. Every muscle from his shoulders to his hands burns.

It’s not enough.

Dark spots blot his vision. He’s running out of time.

(if he dies they better notice adult-sized handprints better ask questions)

Aaron jerks his head back. Perrotta’s teeth clash and he lets out a muffled grunt.

The wire loosens.

Half a breath and Perrotta regains his composure. Cuts off his air before it reaches his lungs.

Tugging at the wire burns oxygen he can’t afford to waste. Doing nothing just guarantees he’ll pass out. His hearing fades out as the sensation in his hands and feet turns into vicious pins and needles.

Fear and adrenaline keep him standing, keep him fighting when oxygen deprivation turns his joints weak and head sluggish. Aaron hasn’t got much chance of wrestling it out of Perrotta’s hands.

He kicks everything he can reach. Metal jolts against metal; precariously balanced junk crashes down; his shoes drag in the gravel. Sound. Sound is what got him into this and if he’s loud enough, it’s going to draw their attention. With Perrotta outnumbered, he’ll run.

It’s hard to think.

The black spots compose most of his vision and he misses half of what he’s trying to hit. His pulse beats sickly against the wire. Having the chance at breathing stolen like that has strained something vital in his chest. Burning is too mild a word for the tearing pain.

(why doesn’t she stop it he’d let go if she said to)

Half-formed thoughts flit through his mind, too fast to catch, too fragmented to use. Aaron can’t see. Can’t breathe. He almost lets go of the wire, his hands aching and weak. The last vestiges of his strength go to keeping himself upright.

His knees hit the ground and sharp stones jab his legs. Something in his throat itches and spasms and he’s coughing and taking in great long breaths between and he’s breathing.

When the coughing fit passes, his heart slows its assault against his ribs and his vision clears up. Aaron steadies himself and waits for the dizziness to come to an end. He blinks once, twice, until his eyes aren’t watering.

His hearing kicks in all at once when the ringing ceases, and he twists around just as Gideon manages to wrestle Perrotta into handcuffs. Someone shouts in the distance. Back-up, or the rest of the team.

And Gideon’s in front of him, crouching down, telling him to take off his tie for once. Aaron nods, loosens it before he does, because the idea of hands near his throat – even his own – is dicey at best right now. He feels around the small indentation in his skin, feels the flat tenderness, and that’s going to bruise quite deeply.

“I’m—” Aaron swallows and a sharp pain lances across his throat. The motion aches, as if it’s been rubbed raw with sandpaper. Nonetheless his voice is much less raspy the second try. “I’m fine.”

Gideon hums a token agreement but doesn’t have time to press him on it as Morgan materialises behind them, and Greenaway and Reid a few moments later.

Perrotta snarls, his eyes wild with animalistic hatred.

(It is this, Aaron will realise, which reminds him so much of his father.)

[wtfevenismypage]

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Spencer reid x reader

Summary: Reader goes into a coma after being tortured on a case and Reid spends all of his time with her.

Warnings: Abuse/torture, coma, probably a swear word or two

Category: Angst/fluff

A/n:I wrote this really late last night while half asleep, so it isn’t the best quality but oh well, I hope you enjoy!

Pain was the only feeling you had. It wasn't just a feeling, it was also your current emotion. You were ashamed in yourself for being so stupid.

You were moving in on the unsub, thinking it was only one person, you should have been able to take him out, but it was two grown men. Two grown men that took you out instantly.

And now you’re tied up to a chair, a blindfold tight over your eyes.

“Your friends are watching. If you try to send messages you’re dead.”

You smile sadly and look up, revealing your battered face to the men who beat you.

“I’m alright guys. Just look for the victims. I’ll be fine-”

A fist to your face cuts you off, and you let out a yelp as they yank your hair backwards.

“You all have four hours to find her. Every ten minutes we’ll carve two letters into her. If you can’t find her in time, she’s dead.”

A blade is pressed against your neck and you whimper.

The blindfold is torn off of your face and you look around with bleary eyes, observing all you can about the area around you.

An abandoned production warehouse. There’s colorful powder streaked across the walls and floor, so beautiful, yet you knew it would only fuel your nightmares for the next few months.

“You better hurry.”

The tall man behind me presses the blade into my neck, marking a shallow sting of blood on your throat.

“P-please... Please stop.”

-

-

-

-

The team could only watch in horror as you get beaten, Penelope trying desperately to track the live footage.

A firm hand is resting on Spencer’s shoulder, trying to calm him down as he glares at the screen, tears dripping down his neck.

Thirty minutes pass with no succession of finding Y/n. six letters are carved into you.

D-E-A-T-H-I.

One of the men, the taller one, walks in front of you and pinches your cheeks together.

“We’re going out, but we’re watching you. If you try and send any messages to them, We have deadly gas in the vents waiting to be released. Behave.”

They walk out, but not before punching you in the stomach, the rough leather of their gloves rubbing against your carved skin.

“Please... Guys they’re going to kill again... I... I don’t think I’m gonna make it. If... If anyone is watching this, please, Tell the rest of the team I love you all. Penelope, please keep being yourself, never lose the light that you have, it’s a beacon for others.”

Penelope’s eyes overflowed with tears as the team watches you bleed out more and more with every breath.

“Rossi, you gotta get out more man, get yourself a woman to love. There’s someone out there for you, you’ll find her soon.”

Rossi turns his head, not wanting to cry at your words.

“Emily, You are the strongest woman I know, please don’t lose your persistence. JJ, Tell Henrey I said Hi okay? You’re so brave, don’t let anyone push you around. Morgan, You keep fighting for what’s right and don’t you dare give up, the world needs you bud.”

“Hotch, it’s alright to take breaks, this team is strong, they’ll survive if you take a cheat day. You have to give yourself a chance to breath okay?”

Even Hotch himself had a tear dripping down his cheeks as you let out broken sobs, almost screaming as the pain in your stomach starts to make you dizzy.

“Spencer... Oh god Spencer... I’m so sorry... I should have waited for you to come up... I’m so sorry...”

““But if I’m... If I’m gonna die then I have to tell you... I have to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you...”

You look around, looking at the corner where a pile of spilt boxes on the floor, Makeup palettes shattered across with broken eyeshadow on the floor.

“It was a few months ago in December, it was a cold night.” You desperately send them hints. “You had given me an eyeshadow palette. I was upset that day, and slowly, I forgot about it. But I came across it recently. I’m so sorry that I never told you. I love you Spencer... I love you so much.”

-

-

-

-

-

The team watches Spencer, waiting nervously as his eyebrows are furrowed together.

“I never bought her an eyeshadow palette...”

Everyone’s eyes widen.

“Garcia look for abandoned eyeshadow palette factories within a fifty mile radius.”

Hotch demands as Morgan sits Spencer down.

“Take a breath, we’ll save her.”

“Morgan, I love her too, if she dies, it’s my fault, I didn’t make it to her in time...”

“Hey kid, don’t do that to yourself, she’ll make it.”

Spencer continues to think about all the times you two had together. You were the only person who listened to his rambling, you actually listened and you liked it. You and him told each other everything, your deepest darkest secrets.

He couldn’t survive without you, there was no way. You helped him when he had nightmares, you made him coffee, you truly held his heart in your hands.

“There’s a match! 68738 Raney Street! Go get my baby!”

Reid is off in a bolt with Emily and Hotch following right behind him.

-

-

-

-

-

The men return to the ware house, flipping knives in their hands.

“Looks like it’s time for some letters.”

“Can’t we just finish the message? Please baby?”

The tall man sighs before crouching in front of you, pulling your shirt up and place the knife right under your boob before pressing it in, making you scream out.

“Please! Please stop!”

Your breathing is labored, the blood draining from your body quickly as he continues to slice into you like a stick of butter.

The last thing you hear before passing out  is the sound of bells ringing in your ears.

“Please...”

-

-

-

-

-

You wake up with a pounding headache, you can’t open your eyes or move any limbs, but you can hear voices talking.

“The nurse said she had a few complications before they could get her to surgery, her heart stopped twice, but they managed to stabilize her.”

It was Penelope, you could tell by the sigh that followed she was talking with Morgan.

“What did they... What did they cut into her?”

His voice was shaky, it made your eyes tear up even when closed, and you could feel the itch slip out of your eye as Penelope speaks.

“They said death is the beginning.”

“And he’s been there since she got out of surgery?”

“He refuses to leave. The nurses told him he had to leave but he wouldn’t budge. It’s been three days. I don’t think he’s eaten...”

Another sigh from Morgan.

Your body is numb, gentle pins and needles spread all throughout your senses. More tears slip through the tiny slits of your closed eyes, dripping down to your ears.

“She’s crying... Probably a nightmare...”

Silence. You can feel yourself drifting back to sleep slowly, the gentle beep of your heart rate putting you to ease as your breathing slows down.

“I can’t believe she went through that torture for four days...”

Had it really been four days? It felt like a life time had passed from being taken from your team.

As you drift into a deep sleep, you can only relive the horrors as you remain unable to wake up.

The next time you awaken, you still can’t move or even blink, your throat dryer than before, pools of sweat at your thighs. You’re able to feel a hand clutching yours though, it’s slender and bony, long fingers squeezing yours tightly.

“You might be able to hear me, and if you can, we uh... We saved you Y/n. You’re safe now.”

Spencer.

You wanted to smile and throw your arms around his neck, but your limbs feel like lead, the heaviest lead in the world and you just can’t lift them up.

“I love you too Y/n. I love you so much. But it’s been eight days since you got to the hospital... Please wake up so I can tell you how much I love you.”

A pair of lips presses against your forehead. It tickles, warm breath from his nose gliding over your skin as he finally pulls away.

“Wake up soon Y/n...”

You slip in and out of consciousness like that for the next few weeks, listening to Spencer’s stories of the team’s current case, and relaxing to classical music as he reads books aloud to you.

They were books you loved too, fictional books about space pirates and cheesy rom-coms. You were so grateful  too him, hoping you could move sometime soon so you can kiss him.

One day the nurse came in to talk with Spencer.

“Her state isn’t improving, she hit her head pretty hard when you found her,  we don’t know how long it’ll be until she wakes up.”

You wanted to fight for him. You wanted to open your eyes and look at his beautiful face, you wanted to be able to hold him in your arms. So when his hand returns to your’s, you try your hardest to squeeze his hand, to let him know you’ll survive.

It takes all of your energy, but briefly, very briefly, your hand clenches softly, and you can feel his hand tense up.

“She squeezed my hand!”

With those words you swiftly passed out.

-

-

-

-

-

Spencer squeezed your hands days after that, it had been almost three months now, and a few days since you held his hand.

Your disheveled state was slowly improving, your sunken cheeks and deep eyebags now gone, but you still weren't waking up. 

“So I brought a children’s book today, I thought you would like it.”

He begin’s reading to you, squeezing your hand every few seconds to hopefully gain some sort of reaction from you.

But once again, nothing.

“Please wake up soon princess...”

-

-

-

-

-

You strain your muscles harder than you ever had to before, trying so hard to tap your fingers on his hand in the tune of the distant piano playing in the background.

One finger twitches on his skin, bouncing up and down to the beat of the piano, the rest of your fingers following suit.

A gasp escapes his lips.

“Princess? Are you awake?”

How the hell do you think I’m gonna answer that Spencer you dumb-

“Oh wow princess, You’re awake! Um, Uh, Okay, I need to go get a doctor, keep your fingers tapping okay? Doctor!”

You keep tapping your sore fingers, listening to Spencer and the doctor panicking about what to do.

But then, You’re eyes slowly flutter open, the blinding light impaling your irises as the sound of Spencer’s crying fills your ears.

 “Good morning Agent Y/l/n, you’ve been sleeping for a while now, I’m gonna help you sit up okay?”

You do your best to nod as the female doctor moves the hospital bed upwards, allowing you to lock eyes with Spencer.

“Sp... Spence...”

Your voice comes out broken and shattered, only a semblance of a croak, but he leans in and wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe and secure.

“Hey princess, I missed you so much.”

He presses a kiss to your head again, letting his tears fall onto your hands, which he’s held against his cheeks.

“I... I love...”

“Shhhh, I know princess, I know, just relax now alright? You’re safe and sound.”

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”