#cue a panicked small change counting as i desperately tried to count as quickly as possible while the customer after me pressured me :(

[deus-ex-mona]

my day in two pictures:

[mionemymind]

The Actress & The Geek

Summary: A late night practice causes Y/n and Wanda to confess their feelings.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Slight Angst

A/n: I might post another one shot like this with a similar layout but different setting, like what if they needed an understudy? Would y’all want that?

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

“Wandaaaa, where are you taking me?” Y/n annoyingly asked. Her newfound friend, Wanda Maximoff, dragged her to the College’s stage room. “I need help practicing my lines and you’re the only person I know who would be up at this time.”

Y/n glanced at the hallway clock, it was close to midnight and by now, Wanda’s friends were either partying or asleep. “I don’t know why you’re panicking so much. Everyone knows you’re going to get the part.”

Wanda pushed through the doors and excitedly ran up the stage, leaving Y/n by the bottom of the steps. “You don’t know that. I heard rumors that Violet might get it over me.” Y/n sighed at Wanda’s poor excuse of a lie. “Now stop being a baby and come over here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and slowly walked up the steps and in front of Wanda. “Turn to page 214. I’ll start us off, okay?” Y/n reluctantly opened the script and turned to the page. Once Wanda saw that Y/n was ready, she started.

“Did I do something?” Wanda asked nervously, a hint of hurt in her tone. Y/n was stunned for a moment at how quickly Wanda got into character. Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Y/n tried her best to act in the scene.

“What makes you ask that?” Wanda walked away with a sigh as she combed her hand through her hair. “Are you seriously acting clueless right now?” Wanda gave Y/n a ridiculous look.

“Answering with a question doesn’t quite help-”

“You’re avoiding me.” A small pause happened in the script as Y/n and Wanda stared at each other. Y/n turned away, “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

Wanda groaned and stomped back to Y/n. She spun her around and grabbed her hand. “Quit acting like a child and talk to me.” Wanda’s character was desperate to hear anything from Y/n, her eyes pleaded for some truth.

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” Wanda’s mouth twitched into a frown. She dropped Y/n’s hand and took a step back. Looking at the ground, Wanda played with her hands, unable to look at Y/n. “You used to tell me everything…but now you barely hang out with me anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes started to water, she started to walk away until Y/n’s character held her hand. “If I tell you-,” Y/n groaned as her character didn’t know what the best choice of words was going to be. In a softer tone, she says, “If I tell you…we can’t go back to the way things were.”

Wanda appeared scared of the truth but things had already changed ever since Y/n became distant. So who cares if the truth changes everything? Maybe now it will help this obstacle between them.

“I-,” Y/n’s eyes looked over Wanda’s shoulder, acting as if there was a character back there. “Tell me you’re not in love with him,” Y/n desperately begged. Wanda looked back, her hand still in Y/n’s, and pretended to see somebody.

She faced Y/n again, searching Y/n’s eyes for the meaning behind this. “What?” Y/n pulled Wanda closer, their faces inches apart. “Tell me you’re not in love with him.”

“Why does that matter?” Wanda challenged. Y/n gulped at how little space was between them but still pushed through with the character. “Because if you’re in love with him - I cannot be with you.”

Wanda acted as if someone called her name, but on cue, Y/n cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her briefly. “Find me - when you do, tell me you feel the same.” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hand and backed away to the other side of the stage, leaving Wanda at the center.

With wide eyes, Wanda touched her lips, the feeling of Y/n’s lips lingered. Her brain rumbled for the next line, but all she could focus on was Y/n. “Uh Wanda, did you want to finish the scene or?”

“You kissed me,” Wanda whispered to herself, surprised that it happened. “Did you want to kiss me?” Wanda only dreamed of a moment like this ever since she met Y/n back in the fall semester. She remembered bumping into Y/n on day one of rehearsal. Ever since then, they’ve always remained friends, until the day Wanda wanted something more.

In the basement of the party, Wanda sat with a group of her friends that go way back to high school and her castmates from the play. Y/n sat beside her already five shots deep into the night. Everyone was socializing and having a great time as the play had phenomenally gone well.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the crew techs said. Everyone was in some agreement wanting to spice the night up. “Okay, I’ll go first,” Steve said. The semester was close to an end and all Steve wanted to do was loosen up. He spent the majority of the semester worrying about his grades, his scholarship, and his football career.

The bottle spun and low and behold, it landed on the very person he wanted to kiss. “You down Bucky?” The liquor in Steve gave him the confidence he needed, otherwise he would have hidden. “You don’t even have to ask.” The two met in the middle for a slow but passionate kiss.

The group screamed with delight as Bucky deepened the kiss, almost going in with his tongue. “Okay you two, break it up!” Bucky pulled away with a charming grin on his face as Steve sat back looking love-struck. “Up next!”

Carol was next to spin, “God, I hope I get a good kisser,” Y/n whispered yelling into Wanda’s ear. The brunette forced a grin as she suddenly felt ill at the thought of someone else kissing you. She tried to think of something clever to say but nothing came out.

Focusing back on the group, Carol had just gotten done kissing Maria, another duo in Wanda’s group that had crushes on each other. It was now Y/n’s turn. She spun the bottle with great anticipation of who she was going to kiss tonight.

Slowly but surely, the bottle was making its last spins until it passed Wanda and stopped to the girl beside her, Natasha. Wanda could feel her heart drop as the two girls looked at each other with mischievous smiles. “Looks like you have to kiss me Y/n - don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Wanda closed her eyes as she saw the pair leaning in, praying it would be over quickly. And when she opened them back up, she couldn’t help but wish that the bottle landed on her.

“Yeah - I mean it was in the script. I didn’t - I thought you wanted me to commit to it.” Y/n walked back to Wanda scared that she accidentally hurt her friend. “Was it fake for you?” Y/n stood still for a moment, afraid to answer. Wanda walked forward, closing the distance between them. “Tell me - did that kiss mean anything to you.”

“Wanda - I - I’m sorry. I really thought you wanted me to-”

“-What I want is to know if you like me or not. So tell me,” Wanda declared. The beating in her heart could not stop as she waited for Y/n’s answer. “I thought you would do just a kiss on my cheek or would have said that you kissed me out loud. But you kissed me and I can’t go back now.”

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes as Y/n wracked in her brain for words to say. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long now - so please tell me that was real.” The tears fell to her cheeks as her heart beat in anticipation.

“Please say something,” Wanda begged.

“Please don’t cry,” Y/n whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of Wanda crying in front of her. “Why shouldn’t I?” Wanda wiped some tears with the back of her hand, feeling stupid for even confessing.

“‘Cause I never knew you felt the same.” Y/n pulled Wanda close and kissed her deeply, wishing to show that this was the kiss that Wanda deserved, not from some stupid play, but from the fact that Y/n truly loved Wanda.

Wanda steadied herself, placing her hands against Y/n’s chest as she fiercely kissed back. The more Wanda pushed to steady herself, the more Y/n leaned in, begging for more. Their gasps and labored breaths were in sync as the kiss went from passionate to needy.

With each kiss, Y/n poured her heart, wishing that she could stop tasting her tears. Pulling back slightly, Y/n heaved out, “Please stop crying.” Y/n used one hand to wipe away the tears. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Wanda chuckled as she looked at Y/n with such adoration. “I think you owe it to me to redo the scene.”

“Want me to kiss you better?” Wanda pondered for a second, “Something like that plus you’re acting skills could use some practice.”

Y/n gasped, a feigned hurt expression on her face. “I think I was amazing. Might have to audition for lead love interest.”

“Guess we gotta practice our kiss scenes.”

“Way ahead of you Maixmoff.”

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[hamiltonimagines]

Thunderstorms and Reunions

Pairing: Daveed x Reader

Summary: Daveed and Y/N have broken up, but Daveed comes over to comfort Y/N when there is a bad thunderstorm

Word Count: 1.1k

I heard the thunder boom and echo off the walls. I flinched and held onto my blanket even tighter. I had the worst phobia of thunderstorms. They absolutely terrified me.

Up until about three months ago, I had been dating Daveed. He knew how much I hated thunderstorms and was always there to comfort me. Unfortunately, we had broken up and I hadn’t seen him since then.

This was the first big thunderstorm since we had broken up. Therefore, it was the first time I had to deal with a thunderstorm on my own.

I was currently laying in my bed, buried in my blanket. I was trying to ignore the terrifying conditions outside, but every time lightning struck, I found myself absolutely petrified.

I had tried everything: headphones, ear plugs, even a pillow covering my ears. Nothing seemed to work. The thunder just kept constantly booming.

I had picked up my phone about fifty times to FaceTime Daveed. I knew he would be exactly the comfort I needed, but I could never bring myself to press the call button.

So, here I was, panicked and alone in my bedroom as the storm raged on outside.

I vaguely heard a knock at the door. I wasn’t even sure if I had actually heard a knock. “Maybe it was just thunder” I thought to myself. Then, I heard it again. This time I was sure that it was a knock at the door.

I threw on a sweatshirt and walked to answer the door. I opened the door just as lightning cracked and I jumped. Then, I saw a sight even more shocking.

Daveed was standing in front of my door. He was completely drenched from head to toe. I could see the water dripping from his hair on to his face.

“Da...daveed. What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked that he was even here. “Can I come in, it’s pouring out here?” He asked me. I thought about it for a second and realized that nothing could go wrong.

So, I backed up and opened the door for Daveed to walk in. Thunder cracked above the house, I jumped again. Daveed definitely noticed.

“So why are you here?” I asked him, again. “Well it’s pouring outside, I know we broke up and we might not be on good terms, but I also know you hate thunderstorms. I couldn’t get the image of you afraid out of my head. I knew that I would be able to help you calm down, and you deserve that” Daveed explained. I was speechless, this was actually such a sweet gesture.

I felt a small smile, creep up on my face. “That’s really really sweet” I told him. “Are you okay with that? If not, I’ll leave right now” he told me. “No, stay please” I said, smiling at him. He smiled back at me.

“Oh, you’re clothes are all wet. You can put them in the dryer if you want” I offered. “I just have this sweatshirt and jeans on” he explained, awkwardly. “I have a pair of your sweatpants that you left here” I told him. “Okay great” he said, smiling.

I grabbed the pants from my room and followed Daveed to the laundry room. He pulled the sweatshirt off of his head, I tried to not stare at his bare chest, but I couldn’t resist. Then he quickly got out of his jeans and put on the sweatpants that I handed him.

He finished getting changed and turned to face me completely. I got lost in his eyes for a minute, I saw all those qualities that I had fallen in love with. Then the thunder clapped again. I felt myself flinch.

“Hey come here” Daveed said, softly. He held his arms out and wrapped them around my waist and held me tight. I put my arms around his neck and held on tightly to him.

I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks as I realized he didn’t have a shirt on. He still smelled like his cologne. His embrace was comforting and felt like home.

He moved his hands to the back of my thighs. I knew that my was cue to jump and wrap my legs around his waist. He positioned me so that he could hold me comfortably. I nestled my face into the crook of his neck.

He started to walk to my bedroom, the path was probably engrained in his brain. I twirled his hair with my fingers as he walked to my room. He walked over next to my bed and carefully placed me under the covers. And then I saw him walk around to the other side of the bed and get into the covers.

“You’re still okay with this, right?” He asked me. I just nodded and held out my arms in front of me. He took that as an open invitation and pulled me closer to him.

We both had one of our arms propped under our heads as we laid on our sides, facing each other. Daveed had his hand resting on my waist.

“It’s really good to see you” Daveed said, softly. “Yeah, I’ve really missed you” I told him, honestly.

It was so strange to be hanging out with Daveed again. He was someone who knew every inch of my body and all of my deepest fears, and all of a sudden we had stopped talking to each other. Being reunited just felt right.

“So are you seeing anyone?” Daveed asked me, as he brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. “No, I’m not. What about you?” I asked, simply. I was praying that he was single too, and maybe we would have a shot at a second chance.

“No, I’m still in love with my ex-girlfriend” he said, simply. I couldn’t actually believe what I was hearing. “Was this conversation actually going the way I hoped it would” I wondered to myself.

Before I knew it, he had cupped my cheek and was slowly leaning in to kiss me.

Everything else faded away. I was no longer concerned about the powerful storm outside or the pit of nerves in my stomach.

Then, our lips touched and it was pure bliss. It felt so sweet and soft and delicate, but I could tell that we both had desperately missed each other. However, we were brought back together by this kiss. It was as if all of our time apart no longer mattered, because we found our way back to each other. It felt perfect. It felt meant to be.

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[jamespotterthefirst]

The Art of Observation

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K (sorry again!) Warning: None Author’s Note: The coffee house scene from book 1, chapter 7 from Ethan’s POV.

Catch up here.

_______ A rational man would keep his distance.

But Ethan discovers, with some dismay, that he is nothing close to a rational man because he finds himself in her presence again. This time in line at his favorite coffee house and at his own invitation.

“What's your poison?” he asks, unsure of what else to say as they wait.

Lilac looks up at him, quirking her lips in thought, the gesture entirely too lovely.

“Surprise me,” she tells him at last, breaking him from his wandering thoughts. “I trust you.”

His chest swells at the words and he clings to them for a second longer. The smiling barista waits patiently and Ethan schools his features with practiced expertise.

“I’ll have the Vienna and she’ll have…” He glances down at her smiling yet intrigued face as he considers what to order for her. In the span of a second, he recalls the cloud of misery swirling over him that morning as he marched towards Naveen’s room, feeling as helpless as ever. Until she found him, kind eyes piercing him completely as she said, “I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

“...the espresso Romano.”

Lilac’s brows furrow with curiosity but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she hurries to dig her credit card out of her purse. “I’ll pay.”

With a shake of his head, he places a hand over hers, gently pushing it back.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says, shaking  his head again when she opens her mouth to argue. The barista smiles fondly at them, her bespectacled eyes falling on their joined hands. Abruptly, Ethan jerks it away, feeling his neck flare with heat.

“I know how much interns get paid,” he adds quickly, inwardly grimacing as soon as the words leave him. His addled, panicked mind blurted them out in a misplaced effort to appear nonchalant. God, why was he such an imbecile around her?

After he pays, he leads her to his usual table by the window. Lilac settles in her seat with an easy comfort that he almost envies.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asks, glancing around appreciatively.

“Fairly often. Sometimes I need a moment where nobody needs anything from me. No one here recognizes me, no one cares who I am.” He vaguely gestures toward the many patrons around them. Many of them rush out in a hurry, caffeinated drink clutched in hand. Others occupy the bar stools or tables, too engrossed in newspapers or screens to pay them any mind. The only eyes on Ethan are a pair of striking green ones, watching him with silent admiration.

He ignores the pleasant swoop of his stomach. “Thirty minutes with a good roast and a new book works wonders. I didn’t bring a book, however, so I suppose you’ll have to entertain me.”

He meets her eyes in the charged silence. Lilac's lips begin to lift in a smile, a sure sign she is accepting the challenge. Just then, however, the friendly barista arrives with their drinks. Lilac observes the curly lemon twist adorning hers with amusement.

“Lemon, huh?”

“Espresso Romano is a double espresso with sugar and Meyer lemon, both squeezed into the brew and rubbed on the rim. It brightens the espresso and cuts the edge off the bitterness.” Once again, his mind travels to the icy dread in his stomach earlier as he walked down the construction zone towards Naveen, almost too afraid to face him. Before he can dwell on it, Lilac's gentle smile captures his attention, as incandescent as the beams of the sun burning through fog. “Try it.”

Keeping true to her declaration of trusting him, she takes a sip. Her eyes light up as the flavor hits her tongue. “Hey, not bad! Certainly an interesting mix of flavors.”

The reaction is entirely too pleasing to Ethan, so much so that he rants, “Just don’t ask for it in Rome. It’s a misnomer, and they won’t know what you’re talking about.” Ethan stops with a private cringe at the senseless rambling. Bravely, he adds, “But I thought you might like it.”

Her eyes light up with interest.

“What made you think that?”

The question is entirely too coquettish to be innocent.

“Simple observation.”

“So what, you’re studying me?”

A swift flush travels from his neck to his ears.

“I study everyone, Rookie. I observe everyone. As should you,” he deflects. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I most enjoy coming here. The clientele can be… intriguing at times.”

To his surprise, she wrinkles her nose in distaste.

“No way, I like to tune out the whole world,” she explains. “If I have a good book, I’d rather be curled up on the couch with a blanket. I don’t want any distractions at all.”

Ethan smiles at the impassioned declaration, realizing it coincides with everything he has learned about her.

“I suppose that’s fair. I mostly read historical nonfiction in what little spare time I have.” Lilac matches his smile with one of her own, perhaps knowing that much about him, too. “Being out in the world adds to the experience for me. Everything around us is part of the same fabric.”

What was he talking about? Ethan couldn't sound more like an arrogant ass if he tried.

He rushes on, “But the art of observation...it’s critical to our work as diagnosticians. You’ve already begun to understand that.” Ethan glances around the tiny but crowded shop until his eyes fall on a man around his same age. “For example… that man there, the one reading a book. He’s deeply troubled. Something’s gnawing at him.”

Lilac follows his line of sight. “How can you tell?”

“He hasn’t turned a page the entire time we’ve been here.”

Lilac stares at the man a bit longer to verify his claim. When the man continues to glance at the same page, she allows an impressed nod.

Ethan doesn’t have time to feel smug because as her eyes fall back on his, she fixes him with a very sharp and serious expression. Green eyes study him astutely, almost as if they can see right through him and conclude that something is gnawing at him, too. Could she read the anguish at failing his friend, weighing heavy in his chest? The grave set of her mouth as she studies him tells him that she might, despite his masterful efforts at keeping his emotions hidden. The beat of his heart spikes up as he remains motionless, transfixed.

Hastily, he tears his eyes away from hers, making himself busy with drinking from his mug.

“You give it a shot,” he prompts quietly, desperate to change the subject.

Lilac blinks but recovers by straightening in her seat. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear as glances around. Ethan's eyes linger on the small tress she missed, falling weightlessly against her cheek. He has the wild urge to sweep it away, his calloused fingers lingering against the freckles that taunt him so often.

He is pulled from that silly fantasy by her imperceptible nod towards the entrance. A blonde woman, looking to be a few years younger than Lilac, rushes into the store, hand nervously tugging at her coat. Her hair sticks wildly in all directions, the back of it reassembling a nest of some sort.

“I think she got laid last night,” Lilac says casually.

Ethan's mug freezes halfway to his mouth. He is grateful for that or half of his drink would be sprayed all over the grinning young doctor before him.

“Come again?”

“That’s totally sex hair,” she explains wisely. At his aghast expression, she laughs and adds, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Their eyes fall on the woman now waiting for her order by the pick-up counter.

“Besides, that look on her face?” Lilac continues wickedly. “Pure satisfaction.”

Ethan's eyes fly back to hers. “What makes you so sure?”

“I know it well.”

Throat dry, he struggles to keep his thoughts decent with herculean effort. He wavers for a second, wondering briefly what a satisfied Lilac might look like, breathless, cheeks flushed, and looking at him through heavy lids.

Mercifully, Lilac is no mind reader, no matter how well she proves to read him. Her attention is on the woman, now making a beeline towards the exit with her coffee. They catch an undeniable glimpse of a sequined dress under her coat. No doubt worn to a nightclub the night before and worn again this morning in her haste to leave her lover's bed.

“Okay, you win that one.”

She brings her mug to her lips but the victorious smile is still evident in her eyes. The chime of the entrance door bell rings loudly over the acoustic cover of a Michael Jackson song playing through the speakers. Bearclaw Man strolls in and lines up at the counter.

An idea strikes as Ethan suppresses a euphoric grin.

“Try to top this,” he tells her. “Based on how he carries himself, I bet that gentleman is going to order two venti macchiatos, one with almond milk, one coconut. And, hmm…” He feigns deep thought. “Let’s say a bearclaw. To-go.”

As if on cue, Bearclaw recites Ethan's words verbatim to the barista. He couldn't have done it better if Ethan had paid him.

Lilac's mouth falls open comically. “What?! There’s no way you predicted that!” She turns to Ethan, at once sensing his stifled laughter. “That’s total B.S.! You cheated somehow.”

He stops fighting back and allows a deep, genuine bout of laughter, his shoulders feeling lighter somehow. “Indeed. That man comes in with the same order nearly every day I’m here.”

“So you were just trying to impress me.”

Busted.

“Hardly,” he lies shamelessly. “I’m trying to impress upon you the importance of observation and memory. My point stands. Observation is key. The subtle signals, the hidden details...all the secrets in plain view.” His attention is entirely on her, all pretense and humor gone from his face. She is watching him just as attentively. “Everyone throws a curtain over their lives, hopes it will smooth out the edges and hide the flaws...but the truth always shines through.” As he speaks, his words begin to lose steam, an earth shattering realization beginning to stir him as he looks at her. “Always.”

Neither of them breaks eye contact, maintaining the spell—the illusion of being the only two in that shop, mere feet apart.

“You just have to learn to look for the light,” he finishes quietly.

As he watches her, he can see a silent realization dawn on her face. Her eyes widen slightly with a multitude of emotion before she hurriedly casts her eyes away.

“Everyone?” she asks with pause. She seems to be mustering up the courage to meet his eyes again and when she does, she says, “You’re right. I know I always try to seem more together than I feel. If people knew what was going on inside… well, let’s just say it’s good they don’t.”

The finality in her words feels forced to Ethan, as though there is so much more she is not saying.

“Precisely. If you’re self-aware about it, at least that brings you one step closer to some sort of truth.”

It's as if the words are spoken by someone else. They echo in his mind as he finally acknowledges the inexplicable, maddening feeling that constantly pulls him towards her. At long last, he accepts it, recognizing he lost that battle a very long time ago.

Lilac takes another drink of her espresso as patrons mill about them, uncaring that the world had entirely shifted on its axis mere seconds ago.

“Alright,” she says after a moment, plastering a cheerful smile on her face. “Let’s up the ante. What do you see when you observe me?”

Ethan drinks the last dregs of his coffee as he thinks, studying her over the rim of his cup. The first memory that finds him is the night Dolores died and Lilac staying by his side like no one ever had before.

“You’re too selfless,” he says. “You care more about your patients than about yourself. One day, that’s going to get you in trouble.”

A heavy silence ensues in which he swears he can see brief shock cross her face.

“So how’d I do?”

Her answer is in the form of a courageous smile that doesn't entirely reach her eyes. “You’re way off the mark.” The taunt is almost credible but Ethan knows better. “Swing and a miss. Sorry, you’re completely wrong.”

He humors her with a chuckle. Kindly, he says, “I’m not sure I am.”

Very subtly, she straightens in her seat saying nothing.

“Now do me.”

This makes her almost choke on her espresso. After fighting back a small cough, that cheeky smirk makes a reappearance, much to Ethan's utter confusion.

Whatever that was about, Lilac doesn't explain. She instead scrutinizes Ethan thoughtfully, lush bottom lip caught in a bite. He's not certain what will kill him first, the sight of it or the anticipation of her response.

“You’re lonely,” she concludes.

“I am not lonely,” he returns at once. “I’m desperate for any moment to myself.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she deflects, waving a hand. “You could go read in your office on a break. But instead you come here to people-watch.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but the truth of her words catch up to him. Solitude had always been a rare gift for Ethan, particularly when so many people had demands on his time. He had always relished a drink in silence or the comfort of a book. He had never needed or craved companionship until… until the people he loved the most left his life forever— his mother, Dolores, and now Naveen.

Ethan meets her expectant gaze.

“Did you feel this way before Dr. Banerji retired?” she asks kindly.

Stomach clenching tightly at the question, Ethan stares at those knowing green eyes for a long moment.

“Well? Am I right or what?”

“As usual, Rookie, you’re only half-right. And in medicine, that counts for nothing.”

Lilac looks wholly unconvinced. When she opens her mouth, Ethan is certain it is to continue arguing the point. Mercifully, his pager interrupts.

“Come on, then. My pager is buzzing. We should be getting back.”

As they trek through the crowded streets of Boston, Ethan glances down at her, unable to suppress the half smile she inspires. She had definitely been wrong in her assessment of his loneliness because at that moment, as she smiles brightly back at him, he does not feel so lonely anymore. 

_______

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! A bit shout out to @thegreentwin​, @aestheticartwriting​, @apphia12​, @chasingrobbie​, @vallerwhoas, @mvalentine​ for the title ideas! 

_______

tags:

@openheart12​​ | @ethandaddyramsey​​ | @noboundariesplease​​ | @silverlitskies​​ | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo​​ | @paulfwesley​​ | @hatescapsicum​​ | @myusualnerdyself​​ | @thatysn​​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​​ | @chasingrobbie​​ | @trappedinfandoms​​ | @togetherwearerapture​​ | @nooruleman​​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​​ | @axwalker​​ | @parkerattano​​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​ | @kaavyaethanramsey​​ | @edith-eggs1​​ | @choices-lurker​​ | @jens-diamondchoices​​ | @tefigranger​​ | @ethanrcmsey​​ | @coffeebeandragon​​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​​ | @aestheticartwriting​​ | @binny1985​​ | @mvalentine​​ | @sanchita012​​ | @drethanramslay​​ | @ramseysno1rookie​​ | @takeharryandgo​​ | @aworldoffandoms​​ | @desmaranj​​ | @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor | @oofchoices​​ | @ethxnrxmsey​​ | @octobereighth​​ | @colossalpainintheass | @kopenheart12​​ | @lilyvalentine​​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​​ | @virtualrain202 | @enmchoices​​ | @tyrilstouch​​ | @rookie-ramsey​​​ | @humanpokemon​ | @apphia12​ | @kiara-36​

@dulceghernandez |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[hoodedwing]

Soldier, Tell Me

Summary: Roy may have banished his demons but we know that demons, and bad habits die hard.

Characters: Jason, Roy, Cheshire and Lian

Warnings: Implied shipping? (not really actually), Drug abuse, depressive thoughts, major canon death. Vomiting and blood

Additional Notes: This was the 3k fic I spent months working on. I hope you like it as much as I did writing it :))

Word Count: 3,499 words 

***

Jason drums his fingers against the handles as he leans a little and presses himself into the seat. His earpieces played some old school song that he didn't bother changing as he took a left turn to a rather deserted road.

Up ahead, a huge building stood in relative isolation, save for a scatter of trees. Jason flips the indicator and takes another right towards the entrance of the car park before finding a small, vacant spot and parking his bike. Switching off the bike, he took a deep breath of the deep gasoline smell lingering.

It assaulted his senses in a good way, preparing him for what was going to happen incoming. He doesn’t know how to start everything with Roy. It’s not as if he could strike up a conversation about a mission like the yesteryears. He couldn’t slide up to him, smile and talk straight away to have expectations that Roy could catch up to speed.

He could try. Pretend everything was normal. Pretend everything was okay and that no one was sinking underneath the weight. Pretend they were still happy despite being scarred all the way through.

He had to accept the fact that Roy was probably in a cleaner slate than when he last saw him. Sometimes, he felt irrational hatred at himself for not seeing it earlier, for not stopping him, A part of him felt that he could’ve saved Roy from hell. He could be the barrier, the small glass shard that held the rest of the pieces up.

Hell, nothing could’ve almost prevented him from collapsing onto the floor when he found Roy out cold on the unforgiving tiles of the damp bathroom floor, a used needle on the floor and empty syringes. A discarded lighter and spoon told the shameful truth Jason wanted desperately to not be true, to not be real, to simply fade and become a figment of his imagination, a hallucination to be exact. An unresponsive Roy sent Jason towards a panicked call to the ER and a shot of Narcan he had in his military-grade belt. There was a splutter and then the vomiting out the offender and the slight feverish touch of the skin. Jason carded his hair and tore a piece of his shirt to keep his forehead cool and try to get his fever down.

Jason had waited outside the ER with trepidation, hoping he really caught him in time. Nurses came in and went. Oliver Queen was suddenly there and Jason doesn’t know what’s next but he sees Dinah Lance as well and all he could pray was that Queen hadn’t disowned Roy. All he registered was a faint squeeze of a shoulder and a soft voice of “He’ll be fine, they’re good at what they do.”

He doesn’t know what to do as he pushes himself off the bike and locks it twice to double-check. Tossing his bag over his shoulder which had a spare set of clothes, shoes and essentials for Roy, he shoves his keys in his jean pockets and his other gloved hand tightening around a Narcan jab.

-

He’s at the counter.

Jason lazily leans against one of those plastic colored chairs that's plain uncomfortable to sit on. His eyes draw slowly towards the anti-drug videos playing on the screen. Sometimes he wonders if it remotely worked, at all as he watched a video on psychedelics and withdrawal symptoms. He thinks about how the initial years would be hell, suddenly the high was taken away and the addict was suffering. He was shaking, chills and absolutely losing it. He briefly thought about heroin and opium. Then he hears the low whine of machines and the counter number calling for him.

He tiredly gets up and waits at the counter, an all too smiling nurse who kindly gave him a bunch of paperwork to sign. His grip on the pen was so loose the nurse had to gently remind him that his hands were shaking. Steeling himself, he signs the last few release papers.

“You don’t look old to be Mr Queen, don’t you?”

“I’m..I’m his friend. Here to take him home.”

He exhales, a hand in his frazzled bangs making everything a little more messy. The nurse takes it as her cue to take Roy and she leaves.

Jason tries to not imagine what Roy might look like after an entire year. In his dreams, it’s either he was a bag of bones or a hollowed face. Other days, he couldn’t see him, it was a blur of shadows and nothing much. All he remembers is the empty longing for his companion to make his trio complete. Sure, Artemis and Bizarro were lovely company but Roy was the one who truly understood him to the core. He knew so much about Jason it was almost as if he was psychoanalyzing him instead. Roy knew Jason’s preferences like straight black coffee, novels with petrichor or simply a rainy day. He knew too much to not be there and it ached Jason’s bones badly.

He wouldn’t admit it, he missed his best friend.

The nurse returns and the first thing Jason registers is the way Roy’s threadbare olive shirt was hanging off his shoulder blades. The constant micro adjustments he did to push the shirt back up to the collarbone to hide the rest of the boned wisp of a muscled and lean man he once was. The same went for his jeans, rolled up at his shins and looking half-dead yet terrified. He shuffled his feet and chewed rather loudly at a ridiculously pink bubblegum. Jason hasn’t had the chance to look into his eyes and see how much was lost.

Suffice to say, Jason needed time to get Roy back to himself completely. He quietly hoped that there was enough Roy to heal back.

Roy finally looks up and smiles imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth curving up as he held a hand out to Jason. The bones were jutting out and it hurt so much to just take his own hand and try to not shatter his fragile ones. Scarred ones with numerous arrows he’s shot in another life.

Another life, Jason reminds himself, something stinging behind his eyes.

Jason stands up and gently embraces Roy, almost afraid of breaking his body completely into nothing. Roy returns the embrace, his hand running down Jason’s back. The nurse was holding Roy’s bag which Jason quickly snags with his free hand and quietly nodded as a sign of gratitude to the lady who walked away to rejoin her colleagues.

“Jason, I’m gonna go home, right?”

Jason lets Roy lean into him, lets him take in the warmth of his leather jacket he’s never quite ditched and into the sleeve of his ash-colored shirt. It was almost light-weight as he half-drags Roy into the carpark and towards his bike.

“Yeah, I'm taking you home."

He pretends to ignore Roy's rather weak grip around his midsection as he revved up the bike and drove out of the centre hopefully for the last time. 

-

Jason made the last turn to his safe house he spent some months converting into a livable house to aid Roy's recovery. The few azaleas he's grown are starting to gain height as he takes the bags and a half-asleep Roy to his doorstep. With some difficulty, he hunts for his keys from his pocket as quickly as possible before anyone nearby starts questioning him.

The door opens with a lazy whine as Jason hurriedly dumps the bags on the couch and drags Roy to his own bedroom. He lowers him gently onto the bed softly before opening his closet and fetching out a pair of his own clothes. He leaves them at the foot of the bed, pre-empting Roy needing to take a shower when he wakes up.

He heads back to the kitchen and starts prepping for a simple soup. After adding the last few vegetables (Roy needed strength on a weak stomach) and closing the lid to let the soup simmer, he takes out the folder of discharge papers alongside a whole host of anti-drug pamphlets which he promptly threw away. 

No need for them. He thought.

Taking the remaining papers, he heads back to the bedroom where he settled down in a ratty armchair beside a worn out and asleep Roy. 

The first sentence already starts to hurt to the bone and his hands shake again. His eyes keep darting towards Roy and back at the paper.

He OD'd twice during his stay. One time, they had to almost restart his heart because he was unresponsive.

Like that day in the bathroom 

Jason mentally supplied, the free hand clutching at the arm of his chair. He doesn't want to read the rest of the letter anymore and carefully folds it, slipping it into his pocket. 

He gently holds Roy's hand, lets his fingers trace along the veins standing out against the thin, almost transparent skin. Anger floods through him, how everything had hurt Roy so much. Jason rubbed gentle circles with his thumb as he waited for Roy to stir up. 

-

Roy awoke to a cotton-like feeling in his head and a remnant of sickness in his stomach. He laid there, staring at the repainted ceiling to force himself to not throw up as he blindly reached for a glass of water left by his table. With the blanket pooling at his waist, he sat up and leant against the headboard and tried to get his head on straight because he hasn't exactly processed anything in the last few hours.

He hears the clinking of a metal ladle and then the creaky cabinet with the dishes. A soft breeze filtered through the slightly ajar day and started a fresh bout of chills for Roy. He feebly rubs his arms against his sides and tries to stay warm.  He threw a pillow on his head because his stupid, stupid weak body couldn't regulate body temperature right. 

He stumbles out of the bed with the blanket draped around his shoulders. He opens the closet and takes out one of Jason's hoodies. He slips it and is instantly comforted by the warmth of the other. It smelt faintly of stale cigarette smoke (He knew Jason had dropped the habit when he was gone, determined to change himself) and gasoline. 

Roy pressed his ear near the doorframe and heard other ambiguous noises as he quietly closed the remaining gap of the door. A sudden wave of nausea hits him and he dashes into the joint washroom in his room.

He barely got onto his abused knees before spitting out the little he had in him. Bile dripped down his pale face and he leant against the cool surface of the bathtub. His eyes trail across the almost spotless tiles except for the occasional blood smears. Those must've been Jason's bad days.

Roy briefly wonders what bad days were to him. Every day kept throwing him off balance and he was always unprepared. 

He tried swimming to shore before, but his ankles always caught the anchor and he couldn't get out in time always. 

When he does free himself, he's so far into the past, it's just their ghosts teasing him and he's bloody trying but he's so tired. He's given up fighting against the waters.

He just opens his arms and welcomes the gush of cold and then the freak warmth of it all. He's so used to breathing without air and inhales water into his lungs. He knows what being waterlogged is like; he's been waterboarded a few times before. Oxygen was so sweet, such a promising relief.

The darkness however still held its charm.

Roy's shaky hand pats against himself, making sure he's still whole and not in pieces. Sometimes he doubted he was still human, the cracks too sharp for his fingers trying to join himself together. His fingers snag between, cuts open and warm blood always follows with the sting.

The sting was so much like when Queen ditched him. God, he never felt so fucking lonely before when his mentor left him to the wolves hungry for his skin. He was weaponless, powerless and defenseless. It was so easy to follow the shadows to the dark alleyway when you're alone, cold and desperate.

Even if it meant you'd sell your soul for relief.

Roy slowly flexed his arms, finding the feeling return to his emancipated limbs. Shaking, he's on his knees in a prayer position before getting up. His busty knees give way and he's so angry he can't even get up.

He felt like a failure. Was he going to be one for the rest of his life? Was he going to forever be trapped and feel he's lost control and never regained it back in any form?

He manages to return to the bedroom without cracking his skull open at the bathroom area. It would be a real shame if Jason brought him home just for Roy to die because he couldn't walk right. He chuckled darkly before making his way to the bag he left the facility with.

He slowly unzipped the bag and felt his way through. The sudden touch of stale fabric signaled to him that Jason hadn't touched the bag yet only because the fabric softener scent Jason used hadn't assailed his nose yet. He always liked the flower ones. 

His fingers reached a faux compartment and he lifted the fabric covering the pocket compartment. He fumbled at the zip before untying the zip tie. His hand plunged in deep and a crinkle sound pricked his ears.

He fished it out and unwrapped the gift box. Taking apart the next few layers, his eyes hungry for the prize.

It was at this moment Jason opened the door, a tray of the food in his hands. His eyes took one look at Roy and the offending item in his hands.

He dropped everything, the soup splashing on the ground and spreading so fast he doesn't know where it ends. Glass fragments lay out on the ground, offending weaponry to the victim. Roy is frozen and his eyes are locked onto Jason's wildly open eyes.

In one swipe, the broader man grabs the prize and throws it so far across the room Roy doesn't know where it is anymore. 

He felt his shirt being pulled and then the familiar feeling of being slammed into the wall. Light headed, his eyes pinched close in pain as he felt the shift in his skull.

Roy doesn't register someone leaning so heavily into him. It suffocated him before he attempted to throw a punch towards the offender.

That punch was quickly blocked and he was maneuvered right into the bed. Roy didn't have time to process anything before he was reaching out for the prize, body almost primal. Jason blocked him-

"Dammit- Stop fighting me."

Jason grits out, wrestling Roy away from where he spotted the prize.  His heart is trembling as he pushes Roy with such force back onto the bed.

"ROY."

Jason yells out, anger flooding his veins with something hot and haunted searing through him.

His eyes threaten to cloud but he forcefully shakes the tears. Roy is spent, panting on the bed as he sweats again. Jason kicks the prize away and rips Roy's bag away from the side table. He slaps him with such ferociousness, Roy is left reeling.

The room is silent. Not even breathing could be heard.

Jason dumps the contents onto the floor. Pens fell out, some artwork he was tasked to do at the facility. A picture of Lian.

Lian.

Jason was livid at the world and it hurts him to the bone as his eyes look at the glossed picture staring back at him from the floor. Her sweet smile formed cracks in his heart as she rode on the rodeo, his leather jacket draping her small figure. Roy's old cowboy hat sat askew on her mop of jet black as she grinned at the camera.

The pain of burying such a smile six feet under sobers him as he watches Roy regain his breath and sit up, a wince gracing his features before he freezes at Lian's picture.

Jason doesn't want to know what kind of scars Roy has sewn shut beneath his clear face. Sometimes Jason thinks he's run out of skin and soul to scar when Roy's at battle. Other days, he couldn't get out of bed and that's where Jason sees Roy for who he is.

A friend.

A friend he cannot afford to lose ever again.

"I miss her."

Roy starts, curling himself in and Jason doesn't look at his expression, all pain and hurting as he closes himself up into a ball, face buried in between as loose strands cross his features. Jason wants to reach out to squeeze a hand on his shoulder but it was still tingling where he slapped Roy. 

Jason thinks about napalm skies and burning cities all crumbling when he presses the stinging palm against his cheek, still radiating residual heat and some of the headache. He merely wondered if this was the price they paid for all those nights.

Nights that don't end. Nights that see them running for their lives. 

Was this what Jason wanted? To be headhunted, to have a bounty on his head so high the numbers keep flowing. To keep repairing himself and sew up like a doll. To never be able to live completely conscience free when he wakes up one cold night and realise another kid had died and he could've prevented it.

With the photo in Roy's hands, he absentmindedly stroked his fingers against Lian's lit face, trying to remember what her skin felt like. Warm and soft on a summer morning and always decked in daisies or sunflowers depending on which fields she ran to. His lap feels so empty but his heart is gone. 

"At one point, I had the power to bring Lian back."

Roy starts, voice rather strained with tears as he rests the photo on the bedside table. Jason's ears prick in confusion as he looks from where he's been brooding. 

"I didn't, even told Cheshire no. I think.."

He bravely draws in a breath to calm the incoming gush of throat-tightened and raw emotions he's not ready for.

"I think I'm doing her a kindness. If I brought her back, it isn't fair for her because she's gonna spend the rest of her life wondering what happened to her and why she doesn't remember. She's always going to be angry at a world that refused to stop when she died. I don't want her to end up like us.

I wanted her happiness because she's my angel. Angels do not deserve pain."

Roy quietly ends it, eyes all darting as he buries himself to cry again. Jason is thumbing his fingers because he hates where he is right now and he doesn't want to go too deep.

He still wants to be able to float.

"I think you did the right thing. You let her be free."

Jason softly says, his own eyes shining with tears as he reaches Roy for a hug. Roy inches in and there's nothing in between them as Jason's slightly larger frame encircled Roy a little, protecting him.

At that moment, nothing could hurt them. Not anymore as they both stayed there till sunset dusted their room in the soft afterglow of yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Jay. Don't cry-"

Jason looks up from where tears have drenched Roy's shirt as he blinks a little. Jason false starts before swallowing back shared glass

"I'm not. You're gonna ruin my bad boy reputation."

Jason jokes lightly as he playfully shoves Roy where a small smile appears on his face. There was still so much to do, so much to see-

"You can't do this alone."

Roy cocks his head, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. Every color died outside the window as night came, a sense of serendipity crosses him and he turns back to Jason.

"I know, but you're here."

"Don't do this for me. Do it for yourself, okay? I..I don't want to see you suffer anymore."

No one deserves to suffer alone.

Jason smiles and bites at his reddened lips. Roy's eyes dart over Jason before he turns back to the bed and falls back, a sigh escaping him. He nods to an exhausted looking Jason to lie down beside him too. Instinctively, he reaches for Jason (he was such a big heater) and curls himself against Jason.

"We're gonna be okay."

Jason says, carding Roy's hair to the side who closes his eyes and leans into Jason's gentle touch. When his stressed breathing evened out into calmer ones and later sleep, Jason swore that nothing would ever hurt him again.

He'll make sure of that.

[mirakumiruku]

In The Contract

A/N: Yaaay more lewd times >:3c No I will not explain myself, I’m just giving y’all your Shiggy food

Shigaraki Tomura x AFAB reader

Contains: dubcon tw, dressing up, abuse of fine print, and Shiggy being a douchebag. WC: 2.5k

You had gone to the League of Villains in an act of desperation. Your pro-hero boyfriend had dumped you for one of his coworkers, kicking you out of his apartment and leaving you jobless. So when you found a housekeeping job with no experience required, and room and board included, you thought you had been given a miracle.

You weren’t so sure about the opportunity when you arrived for the interview, staring up at the old building that you thought would be abandoned, but after double checking you had the right address, you knocked on the back door. You couldn’t help but think this was some kind of organ harvesting scheme, but you didn’t have much to lose at this point.

You did reconsider your choices when the door creaked open, and a hand pulled you inside by the front of your shirt.

“You’re (Y/N), right?” Turquoise eyes bored into yours with the question, and you couldn’t break the contact when you gave a hesitant nod. You knew this face, you’d seen it on TV, accompanied by a warning to contact the police if you saw him. Of course, it was definitely too late for you to run now. 

“You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.” Dabi mumbled, letting go of your shirt and taking you by your arm to drag you further into the building. “I’d say it’s time for your interview, but I think you’re gonna get hired no matter what. You’re the only one stupid enough to reply to our ad.” He laughed as he brought you into what could only be described as an office, composed mainly of a worn out table and a wooden chair, which was occupied by yet another terrifying face. Or rather, a terrifying hand.

“About time, I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t show.” Shigaraki glowered at you from between the fingers that covered his face, idly tapping a pen on the desk. “Well, we don’t have too much room to be picky, but I still have some questions to ask you.”

The ‘interview’ went smoothly, Shigaraki asking you various questions about your views on certain politics, your career history, your relationship and opinion on heroes. He seemed a little pleased when you expressed your experience with your ex boyfriend, like he was hoping for any shred of disdain.

“You sound perfect.” He purred, scribbling his signature on the contract that laid on the desk, before flipping it around and sliding it to you along with the pen. “We can’t pay too well, but room and board are provided, as we said in the ad. By the sounds of it, that’s quite important to you right now.”

You gulped and nodded, scanning over the contract, but the fine print proved too hard to read in your fit of nerves. You steeled yourself and signed the contract. After all, there was no way they would just send you on your merry way if you declined, right?

“Excellent.” Shigaraki smirked, taking the contract and tucking it into a folder. “Dabi, can you show them to their room?” His eyes flickered from Dabi back to you, “I’m hoping for you to start as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. Does that work for you?”

You nodded slowly, worried about the panicked babbling that would escape your lips if you dared open them. 

The room Dabi had brought you to was depressing at best. An old mattress sat atop a metal bed frame in one corner, a small dresser and a cracked mirror standing on the other end of the room next to a tiny closet. You looked back at Dabi, still nervous. 

“Um… how am I… gonna go get my stuff?”

“I dunno. Where is it?”

“Well, some of it’s at my motel room, but most of it is back at my ex’s house…”

“Motel we can do, house of a pro hero is a hard no.” 

You sighed, but knew nothing would come from trying to argue with the villain. “Alright…” Maybe you could text your ex and see if he would drop your things off at the motel, or maybe you’d find it in a charity shop in a month or so. 

The night passed without event. Dinner was cup ramen, and you immediately understood why they needed a cook. 

The next morning you were brought to Shigaraki’s office again, where he went over your duties. The group had a food budget, it was your job to utilize it and make a list for whoever was to run the errands that week. You also had daily jobs like making lunch and dinner for the group, as well as various cleaning tasks. 

From what you had seen, you definitely had your work cut out for you.

You spent the first week working non-stop. Scrubbing the kitchen and bathrooms from top to bottom with the strongest cleaner you could find, mopping up the filthy floors and attacking the scattered mold colonies with bleach. How anyone, criminal or not, could live like this was beyond you. 

The first day you had made lunch for everyone, you were showered in praise. It was clear these people hadn’t eaten a proper meal in such a long time, at least not one that didn’t come out of the microwave. 

As much as you wanted to resent the group for their actions, you couldn’t help the swell of pride in your chest when you caught Shigaraki’s smile behind his father’s hand. 

You couldn’t help the nagging feeling in your gut that something was off, though. Shigaraki had a mischievous, almost devilish glint in his eye that most of the others lacked when his gaze landed upon you. None of the others looked at you that way, not counting Dabi, though you felt like he gave everyone that look.

The next week, a few packages had arrived in the group’s PO box with your name on them. Spinner, that week’s gofer, had brought them up to your room and placed them next to your bed, giving you a grin and a quick bow in thanks to you. You couldn’t help the way you beamed back at him.

Your cheerful mood quickly disappeared, though, when you opened the packages. Inside were piles of fabrics and frills, and as you pulled out the one on top you recognized what it was: a maid dress. It wasn’t too revealing, you wagered that the skirt would reach to just above your knee. But as you dug through the first box that was all it was filled with, one dress for each day of the week, either in black or cheery pastels. The other box had petticoats, tights, a pair of shiny black mary janes, and some surprisingly conservative underwear considering the other items. 

As if on cue, you heard the distinctive sound of knuckles on your doorframe.

“Hey.” Came Shigaraki’s low voice, and you could almost feel his eyes boring into your back. “I figured you should have a uniform. It’s cute, right?”

“Cute… cute isn’t the exact word I’d use.” You mumbled, draping one of the dresses over your arm. 

“Well, whatever word you would use, it’s your uniform.”

You pouted, but sighed. “Whatever…”

“Good.”

In the morning, you had changed from your pajamas to the black maid dress. It was a hair tight, but otherwise it fit perfectly. You didn’t want to think about how Shigaraki had gotten your measurements. The petticoat was soft against your thighs, and the tights were a silky opaque white. You topped it off with the frilly white apron tied snug around your waist, and the patent leather shoes shined to a perfect finish.

The reactions to your new outfit were mixed. Himiko had hung off you the moment you stepped into the room, gushing about how cute you were, your new dress was so pretty, could she dress you up in her own costumes sometimes? You also elicited a wolf whistle from Dabi, and you couldn’t help but notice Spinner trying to hide his intense blush behind the magazine he was reading.

Shigaraki, meanwhile, was surprisingly silent. You didn’t miss the approving glint in his eye when you passed him, though, on your way to pick up some discarded dishes from the night before. 

Your first task of the morning was always making breakfast for whoever was up at the time. The fluffy skirt got in the way of your work, and you had to be careful to not burn the petticoats when you put the tray of bacon into the oven.

“Well don’t you look cute?”

You yelped in surprise at the sound of Shigaraki’s voice, quickly shutting the oven. “Er… thank you, Mr. Shigaraki.” 

“Oh, please. You can call me Tomura when no one else is around.” He stalked over, removing the hand from his face and setting it on the counter, his eyes raking up your body. “Too bad the shipping took so long, I would’ve had you wear this a long time ago.”

“I appreciate the compliment, Tomura, but… I really should be getting back to work.” As if to drive your point home, you pulled down a bowl to crack eggs into.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m here for work.” Tomura came up behind you, his palms coming to rest on your hips, with his pointer finger poised in the air. 

You couldn’t help the squeak that escaped your throat when you felt his hips grind against your back. You tried to turn around and pry yourself away, but he held fast. “Wh-what are you–?”

“Oh, did you not read that part of the contract?” Tomura laughed low in his chest, burying his face into your neck. “That was awfully careless of you. You’re here to take care of all my needs, including more–” he punctuated his words with another harsh grind against your ass, “–intimate ones.” 

“B-but… I…”

“But what? It was on the contract. I’d be happy to go get it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. Of course you chose not to read the contract, he probably meant for you to not read it. After all, you doubted you would have taken the job if that was part of the description, and he knew it too. 

“I mean, if you really don’t want to, I’d be happy to go find someone else. Can’t guarantee you can keep your job, though.”

You took a deep breath before nodding, bracing yourself on the counter. “F-fine.”

“Good~”

Within an instant Tomura was kneeling behind you, and shoving his face within your petticoats. You could feel his warm breath on your clothed heat, letting out a surprised yelp when he tore a hole in the tights. 

“Don’t know why I even bothered getting these, I knew they would end up ripped anyway…” He mused softly, giving you a few kittenlicks through your underwear before finally moving it to the side. His tongue was on you immediately, flicking your clit and lapping eagerly at your cunt. Your thighs tried to press together, instead squeezing Tomura’s head between the soft flesh. 

“Aww, is kitten enjoying this?~” He purred, two fingers coming up to circle your clit. “Good. I have to make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock.” With that he nestled his face back between your legs, pressing the flat of his tongue against your core in order to take a long, drawn out lick.

Tomura didn’t seem to show any signs of letting up no matter how much you whined and tried to push him away, nor how tight the knot in your stomach was getting from his constant ministrations. 

“Ah ah, kitten. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna hurt when you take my cock.” He gave your clit a teasing flick with the tip of his tongue. “It’s no fun if you don’t feel good while I’m splitting you open.”

You couldn’t find the words to argue with that, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to anyway. 

Your grip on the counter was turning your knuckles white, and you couldn’t help your whimpers and whines as you jutted your hips back against Tomura’s tongue. The stimulation continued without interruption, and you were getting so close, your velvety walls tightening around the tongue that had thrust itself inside of you. And just as your vision became blurry around the edges…

Tomura pulled away, licking his lips and removing his head from your skirts, standing up straight once more.

“N-no faaair!~” You whined, your tongue hanging out as you panted to catch your breath.

“Mm, I’d just much rather have you cum on my cock, kitten~” Tomura gave a low laugh at the childish pout that you took on, quickly freeing himself from the constraints of his pants. Once his length had broken free, he gave it a few languid pumps as he flipped up your skirts. 

You let out a low keen as he slowly pressed inside, punctuated by a grunt when his hips pressed flush with your ass.

“F-fuck, kitten~” He growled, face coming to bury itself in your shoulder. “So fucking tight…” He didn’t give you any time to adjust before he was madly gyrating his hips against you, only pulling his cock a few inches out before slamming it home with a bit too much force.

As much as you wanted to hate it, you couldn’t help the squeaks and moans that flowed from your lips with each animalistic thrust, especially when one of his hands came down to circle your clit in time with his bruising movements. You wanted to push him off when he pawed at your hips and ran his tongue up the side of your neck, but the majority of your mind was determined to at least reach your end.

You could feel yourself getting close once more, standing on your tiptoes in order to give Tomura better leverage to hit the spot inside you that made you see stars. Your moans were growing louder and louder, and you clawed at the countertop for some kind of purchase as you neared your edge.

Just as you were about to cum, you felt a spurting inside you: Tomura’s cum painting your insides white. Once he came, all his movements stopped, prompting a displeased whine to be ripped from your throat.

“Aww, did you not cum?” Tomura gave a fake pout, stroking your hair tenderly before he grabbed a handful and gave a gentle tug, his face contorting into a grin. “Too bad, isn’t it? I guess you’ll have to come find me later if you really want it that much.”

“B-but… I n-need to cum!~” You whined, smushing your cheek against the counter and giving Tomura the biggest teary doe eyes you could muster.

“Is that so?” He gave a thoughtful hum, wiping your tears away and stroking your hair once more. “That’s really quite a shame. Though, your job is to please me. You being allowed to cum every time isn’t part of the contract~”

[writing-things-by-me]

Dean and Sam's adventures

Dean and his little brother, in age only, Sam had been talking about closing the Gates of Hell and then trying to figure out if there is anything on the angel tablet to close the doors to heaven as well. The angels just caused too much trouble when they came down and caused too much harm. The boys were leaning back against their, well when I say their, I mean Dean’s beloved 1967 Black Chevy Impala. She has been through everything with them. She was their home when they didn’t have one. She is the only companion they have had all their lives when everyone else leaves them. Whether anyone means to leave or not, She has been through their heartbreak and sorrow. She has been through the pain of losing each other and the ecstasy of finding each other again.She has seen them in the soft joy of falling in love with others without meaning to and finding the other to hope they can always meet here again after a hard time hunting or fighting the other angels. She was a part of the family whether she is inanimate or not. She has been rebuilt from almost scratch with the loving care of the eldest brother she carries with her.

This hunt they were taking on was a particular easy one that Dean didn’t like one bit. He of course thought it was too easy to just sit here watching the doors for activity and hope no one sees them. As if they were the boogeyman to all the monsters they have to fight to save people. They did have some easy cases in the past but this was suspiciously too easy. Sam didn’t think so. He just wanted to get it over with and keep going with the newest project he was working on. One of the vampire case’s that was easy was that one time with Benny and when Dean had the Mark of Cain but that was a whole other story. What usually happens in these scenarios is they get caught and ruffed up before they inevitably escape and kill the nest but no one has come or gone from the building yet.

Just when Dean was gonna give up and go bursting in he heard some shouting and the sounds of a fight breaking out inside the building. Just then a couple burst through the barn door of the abandoned building and into the night around them. Dean was quietly watching and slowly opening the car door so as to not cause attention to turn to them as the two were starting to get rougher with each other. It seemed like one was starting to get fed up when her fangs could be vaguely seen gleaming in the moonlight from being bared at the other. The boys quickly got out with their weapons and made to run over to help when Dean felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. As he whirled around to attack, he got a fist full of brass knuckles to the face. He heard Sam cry out through the ringing in his head and as he turned to look over he saw Sam say his name. As he was fighting to keep his eyes open, he saw the couple weren’t fighting anymore and saw them looking over with smug smiles through his blurry vision.

“Damn, this was a setup.” was Dean’s last thought as he finally lost the battle with the darkness encroaching on his vision. When Dean was finally coming to he could feel himself sitting down with some rough ropes tying him to a pole. He could feel his arms starting to cramp from being tied in this position for so long. He tried to wiggle around to see what weapons he still had on him when he could see Sam sitting to the right of him with his head still falling against his chest. “Sam!” Dean exclaimed to see if he would answer.

He didn’t and the only thing Dean got was the attention of the Vampire’s who were on guard duty apparently. The man who was fighting earlier turned to see what he heard and noticed that Dean was awake again. “Hey! He’s up. We can’t have that. It’s not time yet.” He slowly, arrogantly, walked over with a swing in his hips. He crouched and smiled cockily and whispered “Nighty night Winchester.” He used to butt of the machete that Dean had brought to hit his temple and knock him out again. When he woke again he could feel the headache and possible concussion he had. He could hear some mumbling in the background as he was trying to gain his bearings again. When he could finally lift his head without feeling the room spinning nauseatingly he looked over to see Sam looking at him full of concern and with some fury mixed in.

He looked around the room to see if he could find his weapons stashed anywhere. He could see they were all piled in the hammock a few paces from him. He felt the slow simmering anger from all his things being carelessly tossed away. He felt around to see if the hidden pocket knife he had made from a melted angel blade was still in his sleeve's hidden pocket. He sent a small smug smile to Sam that his idea worked out and was actually useful. Sam exasperatedly rolled his eyes and started to work it out of his sleeve as well. “Ha! Beat that Sam.” Dean thought as he started to cut his ropes as quietly as he could as to not draw attention like he did last time. When Dean was almost finished he signaled Sam knowing he would understand the unspoken cues they have between them. Sam started to yell and make a nuisance of himself so Dean could finish and they could finally leave. Sam knowing how this would end started to brace himself for the punches and Dean tried and failed to concentrate on his part to get them out.

“I am gonna kill that vampire and make it hurt.” Dean quietly vowed to himself as he slunk over to the hammock with their weapons. He grabbed the machete he always kept in his car stash and started his swinging and beheading his way to his brother. With the other vampire’s were occupied with his brother, he could see the others starting to cheer and turn their attention to the empty pole he was supposed to be tied to. The brief surprise and panicked horror he saw in their eyes didn’t make up for what happened but it satisfied that dark part in the back of his heart. It wanted him to keep going to make them realize just exactly how they were messing with. That there was a reason that the Winchesters were considered terrifying to the monster realm and why if you heard they were near you could only run or get caught. Some called them psychopaths and they were right but only for the monsters of the night that hurt humans.

They finally turned to try and find him and that is the last that some of them saw but for others they saw a very pissed off overprotective brother coming straight for them. No one was allowed to mess with Sam but him. Before he could stop him, one of the vampires that was in the back of the pack took out a gun and shot Sam in the leg. Sam let out a wail of anguish and the vampire started cackling thinking he would make it out with Dean being distracted by Sam. Either he was having too much fun or he just wasn’t that great of a vampire to miss his nest mates heads hitting the ground with a dull ‘thud’ behind him. Dean saw him start to turn around and before he decided to do the whole evil villain monologue he swiftly chopped his head from his shoulders.

“SAM! Hey, you’re gonna be okay. Got it?” Dean worriedly exclaimed as he tried to finish what Sam started earlier before he got injured by the vampire. “Yea. Peachy keen Dean. Just you know, the pain is a lot at the moment.” Sam hissed through clenched teeth and a pinched face trying to jostle the wound too much. His eyelids were starting to battle him trying to close and sleep to preserve energy for healing but he stubbornly tried to keep them so as to not worry Dean too much. He knew Dean would become a mother hen over him more than he already was. “Hey! Come one Sam, don't close your eyes. You know how rude that is?” Dean worriedly scolded him. “You fall asleep on me and I'm gonna mess your computer! Put porn all over it and change your background to some blue waffles if you don’t stay awake.” He taunted using Sam’s precious computer as a threat against him. He started to get desperate with Sam not answering him.

He quickly and carefully as he could picked Sam up and kicked open the barn door from earlier to get back to the car. He knew he wouldn’t be able to open the door with Sam in his arms so he could only lay him out on the hood and hope that didn’t hurt too much. He ran around the side and collected the limited first aid kit he kept in his car. As much as he wanted to whine that they kept his car doors open for a couple hours he guiltily thanked them because it allowed him to get the supplies he needed. He wrapped Sam’s leg with what bandages he had before he went to open the car doors to put Sam in the backseat. Once he successfully got Sam in he stumbled into the front and peeled out as if he had hellhounds on his ass.

Thankfully or not, depending on the perspective, the nest they were hunting wasn’t that far from their bunker. Without taking his eyes off the round, Dean squirmed around to get his phone out of his pocket and called up Cas, who was busy sorting some books in the library. Dean sighed waiting for the ringing to stop when he heard “Hello? Dean? What is it?” cooking over the phone. “Cas. Sam’s hurt. Be ready for us. We’re almost there.” Dean hung up as soon as he was done talking, meanwhile Cas was in a bit of a stupor before he jolted and turned back and forth unable to decide what to get first or where to go.

While Dean was counting on Cas being his Calm warrior of heaven, he was in actuality running around like a headless chicken both dreading and apprehensive of Dean's arrival. Cas was no longer an angel but he hasn't had a chance to tell Dean yet. He won’t be able to heal Sam like he knew Dean would demand of him like he has so many times in the past. The battle between the Angels of heaven and the Hunters of earth was where the deed happened. He gave up being an angel. He didn’t want to be just this destructive force of God. He didn’t just want to be a Warrior when he felt he could be more than that. He knew the Brothers kept him around for his friendship and because they considered him family. That was enough for him. He knew it would have to be enough because he didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t. He didn’t want to lose Dean but this might finally be the weight that breaks the camel's back and have everything come crumbling down around him.

While the battle had raged on he quickly grew tired. These were his brothers and sisters he was having to kill. They didn’t have the same relationship with him like Dean had with Sam but he still couldn’t help but feel distressed. He didn’t want to die an angel and not be able to see the brothers again. He wanted, yearned, to be human and live out his life with them. With Dean. If he would have him, but he knew it couldn’t be so he settled for what they have now. He wanted to grow old, cranky and gruff like how Bobby had been. He wanted to inform other hunters who called on potential nearby hunts or help with the distribution of information. He wanted to research monsters, to let others know how and with what they need to kill said monsters. That’s all he wants. He is so tired of killing family no matter how distant they are because they don’t understand his need to live amongst the humans. The blood that has collected on Castiel’s hands is too much for him anymore.

‘BANG BANG’ Cas heard from the warded door of the entrance to the bunker. He shook his head to dispel his thoughts. He didn’t have time for that now he chastised himself. He rushed up the metal staircase to get to the door and open it for Dean. “Cas gonna need your help here. Sam is too much for me. I can’t hold him for much longer.” Dean forced out under the strain of holding Sam. Cas quickly takes Sam as to relieve Dean of the weight and takes him carefully back to lay him down on the war room table. He rushes back to the kitchen and grabs the first aid kit all the while hoping Dean doesn’t ask him to heal Sam. As he comes back through the door he could tell that his fears were correct since Dean was looking calmer than he should with Sam injured as he is. Dean goes around the table to take the kit form Cas and gives voice to the very thing Cas was hoping he wouldn’t say. “Alright Cas! Why did you get this? Just go work your mojo on Sammy.” Dean started confusedly before clapping his hands in a manner that suggests he has to hurry up.

Cas could feel the distress and guilt that is showing on his face because Dean’s face is starting to show a dawning sense of comprehension that only he could understand about Cas. “I’m sorry Dean. I am, truly. But I no longer can anymore. I'm no longer an angel. I’m sorry I didn't tell you before but I..” Cas trailed off as he could feel the shame burning on his face as he tried to continue. “Cas.” Dean chokes out through gritted teeth and a scowling face. “Why didn't you tell me this before? Do you just not trust me anymore? Were you ever going to say anything? You know what never mind. We don’t have time for this. I have to help Sam.” Dean brusquely replied, moving around Cas to get to Sam. Cas tilted his head down at the dismissal and quietly helped Dean with what he needed when there was a ringing noise and white light coming from the end of the table almost under the stairs.

They could both see a figures silhouette in the light becoming clearer with every step they take. A hand comes through followed by a foot with leg coming through after. They can clearly see a person coming through, though not who, it becomes increasingly obvious as the light and noise begins to dim again and disappear. Chuck strides through the last of the dying portal light and strolls up to Sam to lay a hand on him when Dean, the ever overprotective brother that he is, whips out his gun and aims it at the intruder with a steady hand. “Put a hand on him and you can say goodbye to your meat suit.” Grits out and looks over to Cas to see why he hasn’t moved to defend Sam. Only to see Castiel look like he was about to cry and was just barely holding back from falling to his knees. “Father?” Cas croaked out from where he was standing.

Chuck slowly raised his hands when Dean turned his gun on him but he slowly turned to look at Cas with the small smile he has on his face as he faces his favorite son. “Castiel, My Son.” Chuck warmly counters to Cas’s words. “What- God?” Dean shrewdly mumbles at the exchange that just happened in front of him. Chuck looks to Dean and then pointedly at the gun still pointed at him though it has lowered slightly in Dean's surprise. Chuck slowly lowers his hands again and brings them to rest delicately on the slowly growing bloodstain on his pant leg. He closed his eyes but that did nothing to hide the light that visibly shines from beneath them. His palms glows with restrained power that illuminates Sam’s injury and shows it slowly closing, by what it seems like, itself. Sam groans as his face is quickly gaining the color it had lost since the injury was first inflicted upon him. “Don’t mess with my computer Dean.” Sam coughs out as he slowly sits up from the table.

Castiel slowly, unsteadily, walks over to the man he claims is his Father and cautiously puts his hand out to push lightly at the shoulder. Chuck watches with a warmth to his eyes in the face of his son’s caution. “Castiel. I need to speak with you.” He says slowly watching the emotions flit across the face of his son. Feeling the imminent emotional overload from his son he casually stops time with a wave of his hand, not unlike how Gabriel and his signature snaps, and watches as Castiel falls to his knees. “Father.” Castiel chokes out to caught up in the emotions caught in his throat to speak properly. “I’m sorry for the destruction I have wreaked across heaven. For the blood I spilt on earth trying to be a God when I wasn't one. I was just an Angel to hopped up on soul power to see how I was hurting others.” Castiel managed to choke out before the hitch in his breathing was too much and he could feel the hitching in his breath coming out fast.

“My Son. It is okay. You feel the regret and you know what you did wasn’t okay. I healed Sam and I came with a question for you. I plan to close the gates of heaven so you boys won’t have to. I am bringing the angels who want to come back and letting anyone else stay if that is what they choose. But I am giving them the choice despite them not quite understanding that yet.” He said slowly, shaking his head looking exasperated with the other angels. Chuck takes Castiel's arms in his and they slowly rise as Castiel gets his breathing back under control again. When he sees that Castiel is more or less okay, he waved his hand and restarted time again to allow the brothers to hear this part of the conversation.

Castiel slowly looks back at the brothers who are looking at the father son duo with twin looks of concern on their face. Castiel looks back at Chuck with a look of deep concentration on his face before they could all see the determination push through the other emotions and he opens his mouth to respond “No father. I don’t want to go back to heaven unless it's after the death of my human life. I want to live here with Dean, and Sam. I want to be a Winchester and hunt with the Winchesters. They have helped me understand humanity better than I ever could just by watching from afar in heaven. I can make choices for myself whether it be good or bad. I can choose to love or I could choose to dislike things and not be punished for it. I don’t have to be a warrior unless I choose to. I could be a healer or informant. I can be whatever I want and to be with who I want if they would have me.” Castiel was exclaiming and excited gesturing with his whole body even though he didn’t move very much.

“Alright My Son. If that is what you want.” Chuck said with a small fond smile playing at the edge of his lips. He hoped Dean would hurry up and get a move on and claim his son already. He vanished in a blink of light and reappeared in heaven where he recalled all his wayward children. He closed the doors of heaven to all but the souls allowed in the gates and sat back on his throne to wait for his human son to live here with him again with his new family. He smiled when he felt them join his domain and made sure they could share a heaven with the rest of their family that has beaten them here to his warm embrace.

[lostnfinding]

just breathe

idk if i already posted this, but i cant find it so im doing it again.

originally posted to my ao3

tw: hospital, sickness, references to the shit H*nry did to Bessie

word count: 2654

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The last thing Bessie expected was the sharp but familiar pain on her chest. She hadn’t felt it on almost 500 years but there was no way she could forget it. The shortness of breath, the urge to cough and the weight on her lungs were too strong and all she knew was that she needed to find Catalina. She felt tears on her cheeks and rushed to find the first queen, sharp breaths leaving her body, still feeling like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She got to Aragon’s dressing room, opening the door to be met by her eyes looking at her through her reflection on the mirror.

“What happened, cariño?” she asked, seeing her panicked look and red, puffy eyes.

“It hurts, Lina… I can’t- I can’t breathe.” She managed to choke out and Catalina opened her arms, welcoming the smaller girl, who buried her head on her neck.

“It’s okay, querida, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” The woman said, stroking her hair. “How about we skip the show today and go home?” she asked.

“Hmhm” Bessie hummed in agreement, her voice weak and whimpering.

“Okay, let’s get out of these costumes and get out of here.” Aragon said and helped her with getting ready, after telling the others that they were going home and got an alternate for each. When they got in the house, Bessie changed and laid on her bed.

“Do you thing it’s it again?” she asked quietly as Catalina tucked her in.

“No, estrellita, no. You took your shot, remember? We all did. You’re okay.” She said and kissed her head. Then she started to cough. A lot. Immediately, the queen scooped her up into her lap, rocking them side to side. “Let it all out, cariño, I’m here.” For minutes, all that was heard on the house was the girl’s loud cough and Aragon’s sweet voice whispering that she was going to be okay while holding her close and caressing her back. Ten minutes passed and Bessie finally stopped coughing.

“Lina” She whimpered, her voice was weaker than before, and now raspy.

“I’m not going anywhere, estrellita, I promise.” Aragon reassured her, kissing her hairline.

“I’m scared. I don’t wanna die.” The girl said and she shook her head.

“I’m not going to let that happen, cariño, you’re going to stay with me.” Catalina sounded so sure, but inside she was terrified. What if Bessie’s body was giving up and dying, the same way it did centuries ago? No, she couldn’t think about that, not right now. So she hugged her closer, letting the girl curl up on her lap, her small and sweaty body shaking with fear and weakness as she nuzzled her chest. “Do you think you can try to get some sleep? It might make you feel better.”

“But what if I stop breathing?” Bessie asked her, her voice filled with worry.

“You won’t. But I’ll be right here.” Catalina told her. “Do you want me to sing your lullaby?” when they came back to life, Bessie had constant nightmares and the woman had discovered that the Spanish version of Twinkle, twinkle little star calmed her down and put her back to sleep. That’s where the nickname came from.

“Please…” she said and Aragon smiled softly.

“Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?/Me pregunto quién serás/En el cielo o en el mar/Un diamante de verdad/Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?/Me pregunto quién serás/Cuando el Sol se ha ido ya/Cuando nada brilla más/Tú nos muestras tu brillar/Brillas, brillas sin parar/Estrellita, ¿dónde estás?/Me pregunto quién serás” After she finished the song, Bessie was already asleep, her breathing still shaken and weak, but calmer. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the room, or put her back down on the bed, resorting to just let her sleep on her lap, leaning on the pillows. She mumbled a few other lullabies, hoping they would calm her down and make her body go back to normal. She couldn’t lose her, she wouldn’t bare it. She couldn’t protect her on their last lives, but she wouldn’t let anything happen to her again.

A few hours passed and they stayed like that. Aragon didn’t dare to fall asleep, too scared of what would happen if she did, so she waited for the others to get home so someone could watch her. When they got there, Anne and Maggie perused her into going to eat something, changing places with Maggie, who stayed on their shared room, paying close attention to her. Still, after a few minutes, Catalina came back to the room, the unsettling feeling still with her. Something was wrong with her little girl and she didn’t know what it was, but she was going to do what she could to find out.

She slept in Bessie’s room, while Maggie went to hers. Well, she spent the night in Bessie’s room. She barely got one hour of sleep, too scared that if anything happened she wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t awake. And there she was, watching her sleep, the sharp breaths cutting her heart like shards of glasses, but it was better that the agonizing seconds when she didn’t breathe. Catalina was waiting for her to wake up, so they could go to the Emergency Room that had all of their charts, so the doctors had a bit more of insight. The thing is, waking up a tired and sick teenager isn’t an easy task, and she didn’t want to disturb her, so she waited. She waited until 7am, when Bessie’s 8th coughing fit woke her up, causing the panicked girl to come to her senses, struggling even more to breathe with the sudden way of being woken.

“It’s okay, estrellita, you’re okay.” She repeated the fraise over and over again, until Blount stopped coughing. “There we go. You’re doing great, querida.”

“It hurts, Lina.” She was crying, maybe from all the coughing, maybe from pain, or maybe even from fear, most likely all three. “Make it stop, please.” She sounded desperate.

“Do you think you can get ready? I’m taking you to the doctor’s, is that okay?” Catalina told her and watched as she nodded, before helping her get up. “Do you need any help?”

“I think I can do it…” the girl said and Aragon gave her a small smile.

“I’ll be just in my room.” She told her before going down the hallway and getting in her room, sitting on the bed.

“How is she?” Anne sat beside her, getting her hand.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. She’s scared and in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just- I can’t lose her, Anne, I can’t.” she broke down, letting Boleyn hold her as she cried.

“She’s strong, and medicine today is so much better, she’s going to be okay.” She kissed her head, stroking the back of her hand. “I heard you’re taking her to the hospital. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t know how long we’ll be there. I don’t think we’re going to do the show.” Aragon said and Anne nodded.

“Of course not. I’ll call and see who can go in for you.” She smiled.

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Anything you need, babe.” She said before, her hand a squeeze and kissing her cheek before going out of the room. Catalina changed quickly, getting a few things before going back to Bessie’s room, seeing her sat down on her bed.

“Hey. Do you think you can eat anything?” she asked the girl, who shook her head as a negative, staring into nothing. She got into the room, taking the backpack she was holding. “Can I take it?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Thank you.” The teen said quietly and got up, stumbling a bit.

“Careful, mi amor. Let me help you.” Aragon guided her down stairs and into the car, putting her backpack on the back seat.

“Wait, Lina? Can you get Sky on my bag?” Bessie asked quietly and Catalina gave her the stuffed elephant and went to the driver’s seat.

They got to the hospital in a few minutes, going to the children’s E.R., passing in triage relatively fast. Bessie was rushed to see a doctor, who, as soon as she saw her, did a quick exam and took her to one of the side rooms, where she ordered a bag of saline and IV nutrition, and an oxygen tank. The girl looked a bit confused with what was going on, but let a nurse put the IV line and oxygen cannula in her without any protest. Catalina sat on the chair beside her, stoking her hair.

“Are you feeling better, estrellita?” she asked her after half an hour.

“I feel like I can breathe better, but it still hurts. A lot.” Bessie answered, and as if in cue, she started coughing profusely, quietly crying out in pain as she sat up.

“Shh, it’s okay, cariño. Get it all out, I’m here.” Aragon said, rubbing her back. With each cough, her heart got tighter, and she felt like she was going to break down. It was all too familiar, the symptoms lined up and she looked so weak. Bessie’s already small and pale body looked even more fragile, the tips of her fingers and her lips were turning a purple-ish blue and the monitors that were attached to her didn’t show numbers the queen liked. When she stopped coughing, the girl whimpered in pain and curled up on herself, holding on to her stuffed animal for dear life, and she stayed like that, not moving, the wires attached to her tangling on each other, until the doctor came in.

“How are we now?” she asked with a small smile, taking the stethoscope from its place on her pocket and putting it on her ears. “Can you sit up for me, sweetheart?” she asked and Bessie slowly got up.

“She’s been having a few coughing fits every while, says she still feels a lot of pain.” Catalina told her, and she nodded.

“Take a deep breath, please.” She asked and Bessie tried, but started coughing midway through it. “Can you do it again?” that repeated a few more times. “You can lay back down if you want to.” The girl nodded and went back to her previous position, burring her head on the pillow. “Alright. Elizabeth’s situation is a bit… unconventional, to say the least, but I talked to a few doctors who had seen a ten of you before and we concluded that she most likely has a lot of scar tissue on her lungs, which makes it harder to breathe.”

“So she has scars, but inside of her?” Catalina asked, trying to see if she was understanding.

“Yes, we think she does, we still have to do a CT scan to confirm, but is probable. But the problem with this type of scar is that it obstructs the passage of air, making it harder for her to breathe.” The doctor told her and she nodded.

“But why didn’t it show up later?” Aragon looked at the small girl on the bed, her heart filled with worry.

“Well, we still need to do a few tests to see, but I think it can be because it’s progressing. Has she had other lung problems these recent years?”

“She had a few cases of bronchitis on the first couple of years we were back.” She remembered the nights she spent awake, too scared to leave the girl’s side, fearing she might stop breathing at any second; nights just like the previous.

“Alright. We’ll see how the scans and exams come out and then see how we’ll treat it.” The doctor said and left the room.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” Bessie’s weak voice was filled with emotion, though it seemed like she was trying to hide it. “I don’t wanna die. I got a second chance, I just wanna be normal.” She whispered and Catalina caressed her head.

“You’re not going to die, mi amor. I promise.” She said. “And I’ll be with you, whatever happens.”

“If I die…” Bessie started, but Aragon opened her mouth to speak. “Please listen, Lina. If I die, I have a hard drive on my wardrobe. It has a few songs I wrote, I want you to listen to it. I saved a few videos too. If anything happens, I want you to keep it.” She looked up at her and Catalina kissed her forehead.

“Alright, I’ll do that.” She said and hugged the girl. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before, but I’m going to do everything I can now, I promise, estrellita. I love you so much, Bessie, my little girl.” She buried her head further on her chest.

“Mamá?” she tried and Catalina nodded.

“I’m here, cariño, I’m here.” She reassured her.

“I love you too. You couldn’t do anything back then, I don’t blame you.” Bessie said, and curled up further into Aragon’s chest, crying out in pain once more.

“Shh, don’t try to speak, save your breath.” She said and started mumbling to their lullaby.

They spent a while like that, until a nurse came to take the girl to CT, leaving the queen alone with her thoughts. Not being able to do anything, she texted the others, giving a small summary of what was going on. She felt so lost, not knowing what was going on or how she could help was crushing her. The minutes felt like hours and she was doing her best not to cry. Finally, Bessie came back with the nurse and scans, followed by the doctor.

“So, I saw Elizabeth’s scans, and she does have severe scaring on her lungs, and she has something called hypoxemic lung failure.” She turned to the girl. “From what you’ve told me, you’ve probably had it for a while. Basically what it means is that the scaring on your lungs obstructs the oxygen passing, causing you to feel tired and out of breath.” The doctor told them.

“But why didn’t it show symptoms before? Why did it show up so suddenly? Wouldn’t it be slow?” Aragon asked her.

“Well, that’s a good question. Have you been feeling more anxious, tired or confused? Maybe restlessness, sweating easier?” she looked at the girl.

“I- maybe? I don’t know… I thought it was just fatigue or stress, but now that you said it I’m not sure…” she answered quietly.

“Bessie! What was the agreement we made in order for you to do the show?” Catalina didn’t sound mad, she sounded worried but still firm.

“I’m sorry. I love doing it so much, and it’s going to open so many doors, I’ve already got universities that want me…” the teen started but Lina gave her a small smile and shook her head.

“I’m not mad, mija, I’m worried. But we’ll talk later, okay?” Bessie nodded and they turned back to the doctor.

“I’d like to admit you, mainly for precaution, at least a few days before we settle with your treatments.” She said.

“Alright.” Catalina’s voice was shaky, scared, but she knew it was the right thing to do. “We’ll get someone to drop off our things.” She nodded and looked at Elizabeth, caressing her forehead.

“I’ll send a nurse to take you to the room and get paperwork sorted out.” The doctor smiled and left the room, leaving the two alone.

“I’m sorry, Mamá. I didn’t know it was bad. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Bessie curled up more to Aragon’s side, who hugged her.

“You could never do that, mija. I’m so proud of you, no matter what. What other teenager juggles school, college applications and four shows a week while getting used to the modern world and having to relearn so much?” she looked her in the eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Bessie.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Warnings: gore

Masterlist

Carnage charged at your and tackled you. You both fell to the ground with a thud. You began to fight for dominance ultimately but lost.

“You think you can beat me? You shouldn’t have even come. I’ll win this fight in no time.” Carnage laughed and easily pinned you down. You tried to break free but couldn’t. You could only watch as Carnage unhinged his jaw and bent down to bite your head off.

“Heads up!” You heard a triumphant call from above you. Spider-Man swung down on a web and kicked Carnage off of you. Carnage went tumbling back before landing on his feet and growling.

“Taser web!” Peter announced and shot another web at Carnage. It landed on his body and electrocuted him, promptly knocking him off the building. Peter quickly ran to you as you shifted back to yourself.

“Are you alright?” He panicked as he helped you up. You groaned a little at the dull ache throughout your body. You were a little sore but ultimately okay.

“I’m alright.” You answered. You looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. You looked longingly at Peter, clad in his Spider-Man suit. You smiled a closed lip smile in disbelief. He came. Despite your fight and harsh words, he came. Like you knew he would. Like he always would.

“Y/n?” He said in a strained voice, one that had been crying. You had been staring at him for too long.

“You came?” You asked incredulously. Peter nodded.

“I’m never gonna stop fighting for you.” Peter stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your heart melted. Venom was right. He would always come back no matter how many times you pushed him away.

“I’m still mad at you.” Peter said suddenly. He sounded more upset than mad. You nodded.

“Understandably so.” You said. Peter seemed to soften at your agreement with him.

“But I’m still gonna help you kick Carnage’s ass.” Peter followed up. You smiled fondly at him.

“I figured as much. I’m sorry, Pete. I’m sorry I keep running away.” You said sincerely. Peter looked around and look off his mask.

“Yea. You’re so sorry that you ran right into someone else’s arms.” He scoffed. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Who’s arms?” You asked right as you heard a loud growl from below. Carnage had climbed back up the building and was ready for more. Peter got into fighting stance and you transformed into Venom but your heart was no longer in the fight. You were a little occupied at the moment.

“Who’s arms?” You repeated as Carnage swung at you. You ducked and swiped at his knees. He howled in pain. He turned to Peter and charged.

“I ran into Andy in the elevator. He told me everything.” Peter yelled in a horse voice as he dodged punches from Carnage. You were impressed. Peter was putting up a good fight.

“What’s everything?” You asked for clarification. Carnage had turned back to you and punched you in the gut. You retaliated by punching him in the jaw and ripping at his outer layer of skin to reveal Cletus inside.

“Cletus, you can stop this. You don’t have to be a killer anymore.” You yelled desperately.

“I’ve always been a killer, baby. You can’t change me now.” He laughed and bonded back with Carnage. Carnage kicked you in the stomach and sent you tumbling off the building. You fell freely for a moment before shooting a web and slowly lowering yourself to the ground. Peter dove off the building after you after hitting Carnage with several taser webs.

“What did he tell you?” You panted as you turned back into yourself. You almost couldn’t believe you were having the biggest battle of your life and resolving your problems with Peter simultaneously. Peter took off his mask and went to check if you were okay.

“That you’re back together and moving to San Francisco.” Peter told you, the heartbreak evident in his voice. You could see the pained look on his face. You looked at him blankly before bursting out laughing. Peter looked confused but laughed a little himself.

“That’s the opposite of what happened.” You said between laughs. Peter looked optimistic for a moment.

“Really?” He asked, not fully believing you just yet.

“Peter, I told him I was gonna stay here because I’m in love with you. Then he kissed me and I threw him out. That’s what happened. That’s all that happened.” You cleared up. Peter looked so relived for a moment you thought he’d kiss you.

“So you’re not moving back to San Francisco to be with Andy?” He asked, with hope gleaming in his eyes. He took a tentative step towards you.

“Are you kidding me? If I never see that scum bag again it’ll be too soon.” You said. Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“That’s uh, that’s great news.” Peter rubbed the back of his suit covered neck. “I hope I never see him again either. I’ll knock him out where he stands.” Peter threatened. He wasn’t very menacing though. Kind of like a butterfly with a butter knife.

“Alright Tiger. Save that energy for the fight. Do we have a strategy?” You asked, brining up the task at hand after resolving your issue with Peter. Of course, it wasn’t totally resolved. You guys were still broken up. But that could wait until after New York was safe.

“I was thinking you keep fighting him and I pretend I’m dead down here. You can weaken him and then I’ll spring up there and ambush him. It’ll be a sneak attack. We’re gonna Trojan horse this son of a bitch.” Peter said excitedly. You laughed at his eagerness.

“That’s not really a Trojan horse. Nothing is inside anything.” You pointed out.

“You’re inside us.” Venom said as she came out in her snake like form. Peter pointed at her.

“Blammo. Trojan horse. See, Venom gets it.” Peter said. He and Venom high fived.

“Impeccable plan Peter. We’re starting to like you. We don’t want to eat your liver as much anymore.” Venom complimented. Peter looked terrified.

“You wanted to eat my liver?!” He gasped.

“And kidneys.” Venom stated. Peters eyes went even wider.

“That’s enough. Trojan horse on three?” You asked. Everyone put their hands in the middle. Well, you and Peter put your hands and Venom put a tendril.

“One. Two. Three.” You counted. You broke and mentally prepared yourself for what was to come. Peter shot a web at the neighboring building and slide up it, upside down, like a spider. You laughed at his action, though it seemed completely normal to him. You felt a sudden sadness strike your heart at the sight of him. This could potentially be a deadly situation.

“Peter, wait.” You said suddenly.

Peter slid down his web and waited. He was still upside down but you didn’t mind.

“You thought I was moving to San Francisco to be with another man and you still came to help me?” You asked.

“Well, yea. I still love you even when I’m mad at you. Nothing you can say or do will ever change how I feel. I told you, all I want is to keep you safe. Even when you broke my heart and insulted my Star Wars bedsheets.” Peter answered, again as if it obvious. You opened your mouth but you were interrupted by Carnage roaring from the top of the Oscorp building.

“That’s our cue.” Peter said, getting ready to slide back up his web.

“Wait.” You said again. You approached him cautiously and carefully rolled his mask down just below his nose. Peter stayed perfectly still.

“Be safe.” You whispered, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was a bit awkward seeing as he was upside down but it was still perfect. It would always be perfect as long as it was Peter. Peter kissed you back to the best of his ability, putting his hand on the back of your head for support, until he needed to breath.

“I thought we were broken up?” He whispered when you broke apart. You smiled and rolled his mask back down to cover his face.

“We’ll talk about it later. We have to be heroes now.” You said as you patted his cheek. Peter was about to protest so you pressed another kiss to his covered mouth before shooting a web towards the top of the building and flying upwards. You landed with grace and transformed into Venom. Carnage smiled a toothy grin at the sight of you.

“You can still join us Venom! There’s nothing we can’t do! You’re no different from us. Don’t act like you are.” Carnage sneered.

“We may be no different, but we are better.” You answered firmly.

“Fine. Be that way. Sorry it had to come to this.” Carnage said, though it sounded more like Cletus speaking. Carnage pulled out a match and looked down at your feet. You followed his gaze and noticed you were standing a in puddle.

“Gasoline.” You said fearfully. Carnage knew your weakness. He had that big terrible smirk on his face. But you saw something in his eyes that his smile wasn’t telling you. Fear. He was afraid. You tried to form a plan as quickly as you could.

“Some people just want to sit back and watch that world burn.” Carnage drawled. He lit the match and flicked it at you. You quickly jumped out of the way as the fire roared to life. Carnage seemed as eager to stay away from it as you were. There was now a large fire at the center of the rooftop and you and Carnage circled around it. He suddenly pulled something out of his body.

“Lover boy told us you’re not a fan of sound. Did you know Oscorp was home to the largest speakers in all of New York? And guess where they keep them?” Carnage taunted. You looked around and noticed the huge speakers on all corners of the building.

Damn It Peter.” You muttered. Carnage smiled wickedly upon seeing the fear in Venoms eyes.

“Let’s make some waves. Sound waves, that is.” Carnage announced and pressed a button on a small remote. The speakers turned on and began to blare a piercing sound. Your whole body shook and you could feel yourself separating from Venom.

“Hold on!” Venom cried. You did you best to stay together but the sound was too powerful.

“I can’t.” You yelled. Venom shot out of your body and you slumped to the ground. Carnage charged towards Venom, who was nothing but goo and picked her up. Then, he threw her like a frisbee into the night. You had no idea where or how far away she landed.

“No!” You cried. You panicked briefly before assessing the situation. You and Venom had been separated before and Venom found her way back to you. You didn’t die last time because you didn’t have any fatal injuries. All you had to do was stall until Venom made her way back. As long as Carnage didn’t injury you that badly, you could survive. The problem was, you were now weaker, slower, and had absolutely no fighting skills. Carnage was surely going to use that to his advantage. Carnage stalked over to you and raised a claw, ready to swipe.

“Any last words?” He growled. You suddenly remembered something.

“Yes. Thank God for Tony Stark.” You answered and pressed a hand against your chest. Your suit formed around your body and covered you like a second skin. Carnage looked surprised at your action. It wasn’t much but at least you had some protection until Venom came back.

“You think your little suit will protect you? Nothing will protect you from me. Now, you and Venom are gonna watch each other die all because you were too selfish to join our side.” Carnage sneered. You took notice to how Carnage “me” and not “we.”

“Venom isn’t even here.” You spat. Carnage hesitated.

“Cletus, I told you the plan was to separate Venom and Y/n so we could kill them in front of each other. What did you do with Venom?” Carnage asked in an annoyed tone.

“I’m sorry boss. I forgot. I tossed her off the building.” Cletus’s voice answered sheepishly. You watched them carefully. Their relationship wasn’t like yours and Venoms. It wasn’t equal.

“You ruined the plan. Just like you ruin everything. You’re pathetic! You’re nothing! You can’t do a single thing right!” Carnage yelled. You heard a small whimper from Cletus.

“I’m sorry boss.” He whimpered.

“I’ll do it myself.” Carnage growled.

“Venom would never speak to me that way.” You spoke up. Carnage turned back to your and grabbed you by the throat. He raised you up and dangled you over the edge of the building. You had done this exact thing to Peter so many times and now it was coming back to haunt you. You looked down at your dangling legs and saw the long way down to the ground. The fall was a certain death. You didn’t see Peter anywhere and you knew it was because he was on the other side of the building, waiting to sneak attack. A year ago, you wanted to die so badly. But now, you had so much to live for. Venom, Peter, and yourself. You were stronger now and you were getting better every day. You looked back at Carnage with tears in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do this Cletus. I know you think Carnage is in charge, but he doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be his puppet anymore. You can separate from him and we’ll kill him together. I’ve done it before. Please, be human. Don’t be a monster. You don’t have to kill me.” You pleaded to Cletus, hoping he would hear your through Carnage’s body.

“He will never separate from me, fool. I own him. He’s nothing without me.” Carnage growled.

“It doesn’t have to be this way Cletus. You said you can’t change, but I know you can. I believe in you and I know you’re capable of doing the right thing. You don’t have to be a killer anymore. You can be a hero. The city will love you if you protect them from Carnage. I’ll write the story myself.” You tried again. Carnage tightened his grip around your neck. You were losing the ability to see and breath. But you could sense something. Hestitation. You might’ve been getting through to Cletus.

“Shut up!” Carnage shouted. His hands suddenly felt weaker around your throat.

“You told me you were glad I was telling your side of the story. This is your chance to change your story. Rewrite the ending. You can be the hero this time.” You begged one last time.

“He will never be the hero. I didn’t make him a killer. He always was. And that’s all he’ll ever be. Now, any last words?” Carnage asked with a grin. You noticed him faltering. There seemed to be an internal struggle going on.

“Yes. Do you know what the capital of Thailand is?” You asked the through short breaths. You were going to die of asphyxiation before he even dropped you.

“What?” Carnage asked, visibly puzzled.

“Bangkok.” You said through gritted teeth as you swiftly kicked him in the crotch. Carnage doubled over and let you go. You plopped on the ground, right near the edge, and gasped for air. Carnage recovered quickly and let out a low chuckle.

“Clever girl. Bangkok. And you hit me in my…whatever. You think a kick to the groin is gonna stop me? Nothing can. The world will know my name.” Carnage declared. He picked you up and threw you across the roof. You tumbled and groaned in pain. Little bits of gravel stuck to your face and hair. Carnage ran to you and kicked you in the stomach. You wheezed and barely had time to recover before he punched you in the face. You felt the metallic taste of blood filling in your mouth. You heard his evil laugh amongst the blaring sound of the speakers. He straddled you and pounded relentlessly onto your face with a series of blows. His huge claws left your face battered and bloody. He raised his sharp claws in the air and plunged them into your body. The suit deflected the claws as well as it could, but they couldn’t fully stop them from entering your body. You felt the full pain of his sharp claws in your abdomen. You were so weak, you couldn’t even scream. Carnage gave you another hit to the jaw, knocking your face to the side and you began to see double. Double…Spidermen?

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you a woman should never be hit, not even with a flower?” Peters voice rang through your ears. Through your blurry vision you saw a taser web hit Carnage in the chest and electrocute him. Peter pounced on Carnage and punched him several times in his face, feeling absolutely no fear at all. Peter felt one thing, rage.

“Don’t you ever touch her again.” Peter growled in a voice you had never heard before. Carnage got up and began to fight Peter back. You wanted badly to get up and help, but you were too weak. You could only watch as Carnage ultimately began to win the fight against Peter. You felt hot tears streaming down your face, along with the blood running from your nose, mouth, and forehead.

“Don’t hurt him.” You cried weakly as Carnage swiped at Peter, leaving a deep scratch in his chest. Peter fell to the ground. You managed to drag yourself over to him just enough to see him. He was unconscious, as expected. His masked eyes were closed. Your heart ached for him.

“Come on Peter.” You wheezed. “Come on Spider-Man.”

The eyes on Peters mask snapped open and he jumped up. He immediately dodged a punch from and kicked Carnage in the chest with full force. You watched them fight and heard a slinking sound form behind you. You still couldn’t move your body, but you could stretch your arm out and felt around the ground. You felt something warm touch your hand.

“We got you baby. It’s gonna be okay.” Venoms voice sounded in your head. You let out a happy laugh of relief.

“You came back.” You said weakly but happily.

“We will always come back.” Venom assured. You felt your body beginning to heal. The puncture wounds in your chest closed and your face stopped bleeding. After just a minute, you were able to stand up. You grabbed the remote and shut the speakers off. You saw Carnage about to throw a punch at Peter so you quickly shot a web at his fist and pulled. Carnage looked at you, not expecting you to be alive still. His fist never made contact with Peter, who was looking at you with adoration. You could tell, because his mask was torn and one of the masks eyes was broken. You could see tears in his soft brown eyes. You transformed into Venom and yanked on your web with your full strength. He flew towards you and was met with a hard punch. He laid on the ground in pain and you ran to Peter to check if he was okay.

“Hey.” You breathed out. Venoms face opened up to reveal your own so you could talk to Peter. You wanted to run into his arms and apologize to him. You wanted to hold him and never let him go.

“Hi.” He said shyly. You felt like you and him had this exchange a thousand times. This time felt different. He was so close to you but he felt worlds away.

“Thanks for saving me. The Trojan Horse plan worked.” You complimented. You just wanted things between you and Peter to be normal again.

“It wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t put up such a good fight.” Peter said back. You smiled fondly at him, turning completely back into yourself now.

“I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. Everything. All the breakups and now this. I hate seeing him hurting you. And I hate hurting you myself even more. I’m so sorry Peter. I’m so so sorry.” You apologized. The fight wasn’t looking good. You wanted to tell Peter everything in case you didn’t get the chance later.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like we’re saying goodbye. We will win this, Y/n. This isn’t goodbye.” Peter said firmly, taking a step towards you. You looked at him weakly.

“But if it is…”

“It isn’t.” He interrupted.

“But if it is.” You said, taking his hands in yours. “I need you to know that you are absolutely the one I want to be with. I promise that if we make it out of this alive, I will never leave your side again. And if we die-“

“We won’t.” He interrupted again.

“But if we do, it’ll be okay. Because if I die by your side then I died in my favorite place to be. I love you, Peter Parker. I need you to know that. Can you repeat that back to me so that I know you know?” You asked of him.

“I’m not doing this. We aren’t going to die, Y/n. This is-“

“Please.” You interjected. Peter sighed deeply and took off his mask.

“You love me.” He repeated. You reached up and touched his face.

“How much?” You asked quietly. He looked up at the sky to keep from crying.

“More than I’ll ever wrap my head around.” He answered, quoting the song you had sang to him earlier that day. It felt like a million years ago. How happy you were that morning to how sad you were by nightfall.

“That’s right.” You smiled at him, despite the ache in your chest. Ever since the first time he said hello to you, you hoped he’d never say goodbye. And though neither of you wanted to admit it, this was your goodbye.

You stared at each other momentarily before Peter began to lean in for a kiss. You leaned in as well, but were violently yanked back by a firm grasp. Carnage spun you around and punched you in the face. Peter ran to your aid but Carnage knocked him in the head with a with a steel rod. Peter fell limply to the ground.

“Peter!” You cried out, and immediately clamped a hand over your mouth. Carnage wasn’t supposed to know his identity. You tried to go to Peter but Carnage held you down. He looked at Peters unmasked face and laughed.

“Wow. I never would’ve guessed that Spider-Man was just a little boy. He put up a pretty good fight. But not good enough.” Carnage sneered. He went over to Peter and punched him abruptly, rendering him unconscious.

“Stop! It’s me you want! Not Spider-Man. You said you’d leave him alone.” You cried.

“Cletus said he’d leave him alone. And Cletus has no power.” Carnage answered. You stared at Carnage with rage before letting out a little laugh. Your laugh grew louder and Carnage looked at you with confusion.

“What’s funny?” Carnage demanded. You continued to laugh.

“That’s it. That’s your weakness. Cletus has no power. Carnage controls Cletus like a puppet master and Cletus has no say. I should’ve known that’s how your relationship worked. It makes total sense.” You said as you stood up and slowly approached Carnage.

“Why does that make sense?” Carnage asked. You shrugged.

“Because Cletus is boring.” You said simply.

“What? I’m not boring.” Cletus’s voice came out. You smirked as your plan began to work.

“Yes, you are. You bonded with a killer symbiote and what did you do with it? Kill people. Boring.” You said in a sing song voice. Then you faked a yawn. “I bonded with a killer symbiote and together, we killed bad guys and made the city safer. We saved Earth from Carlton Drake and now, we clean up New York. That’s pretty unexpected of us, wouldn’t you agree Venom?” You asked. Venom swirled around your hand and nodded.

“Absolutely. Very unexpected of us.” She said eagerly. Carnage looked lost.

“I can’t say I’m surprised though. Cletus has always been boring. Right baby?” You asked Venom again.

“Right again baby.” Venom responded. Carnage’s face opened up to reveal Cletus’s beet red one.

“I’m not boring! I’m a serial killer! That’s not boring!” He yelled. You watched as Carnage struggled to take over Cletus’s face again. He lost the battle, and Cletus shifted back into himself. You had never seen him standing before. He was shorter than you thought.

“A boring serial killer. You’re literally the most generic and prolific serial killer I’ve ever seen. Let’s see, you’re a white male in his mid to late thirties who killed women who resembled the girl who broke his heart in high school. Boring. I just described about a thousand serial killers. I mean, killing women who looked like someone who wronged you? Please. That’s an incredibly common motivation.” You faked another yawn just to rile him up.

“It’s so common, one might even call it boring.” Venom taunted. Cletus looked furious.

“Shelly broke my heart. She deserved to die. That’s not boring!” He yelled at you. You turned your back to him and smiled.

“How did Shelly break your heart? I always wondered. It didn’t say anything about it in your file. Just something about a…school dance?” You asked as if you didn’t know the answer. Cletus face reddened with embarrassment.

“A spring fling.” He muttered. You could tell he was reliving the memory by the look on his face.

“That’s right. A spring fling. What happened? Did she reject you?” You asked curiously. Cletus looked haunted by the memory. He merely nodded.

“Did you know that with a simple google search I could find out the names of your classmates in high school? I didn’t find anyone named Shelly but I did find a Michelle. Michelle Jameson. Does that name sound familiar?” You asked. Cletus’s eyes snapped to you. You saw tears forming in them. You smiled directly to his face.

“Michelle.” He whispered.

“You asked Michelle to dance that night, didn’t you? But Michelle didn’t want to dance with you, did she Cletus? She wanted to dance with Tobey Garfield. Because after all, Tobey was the captain of the football team, played the drums in the school band, and made high honor roll every year. And you, you were just-“

“Boring.” He finished your sentence. “She called me boring. The whole class heard. They all laughed at me. I was humiliated.” He said, tears rolling down his cheeks. He suddenly looked angry. “I wanted her to pay.”

“And you made her pay. 17 times with all the women you killed. But they never filled that empty hole that Shelly left, did they? Nothing could fill that hole. Nothing until-“

“Carnage.” He finished your sentence again.

“Yes. And Carnage promised you great things, didn’t he? Things like world domination and revenge. I bet he even promised you no one would ever laugh again.” You said cautiously. You had him right where you wanted him. Cletus nodded sadly.

“But he didn’t live up to those promises, did he? He ordered you around, made you call him boss, degraded you. He said you were a team but you weren’t. He was always in charge and you just had to go along with anything he said. Am I right?” You asked. Cletus looked at you.

“Exactly right.” He said.

“That’s not what it’s like with me and Venom, you know. We’re a team. Equals. We don’t control each other. I protect her and she protects me. Does Carnage protect you?” You asked compassionately. Cletus shook his head.

“He makes me feel worse.” Cletus cried. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“Cletus, if you kill me, your story will never come out. No one will ever know the pain you went through. You can stop this. You can take back the control.” You told him. Cletus looked at you hopefully for a moment. His eyes quickly faded back to fear.

“No I can’t. I will never have control.” He said sadly before merging back into Carnage. You gasped in fear and turned into Venom. You and Carnage fought again. He wrestled you to the ground and pulled Venom away from your face. He brought his fist down many times until your nose was broken and bleeding. Everything ached, even your teeth. Your eyes were swollen shut and you couldn’t see. You thought you were going to die right there, but Carnage was knocked off of you by a blow to the head with a steel pipe. Peter stood above Carnage with the pipe still in hand. Carnage pounced on Peter for the second time and began to throw him around like a rag doll. He beat Peter senseless and tossed him off the roof like garbage. You let out a silent scream. Carnage went back to you and delivered another blow to your gut. He dragged your towards the fire by your leg and held your leg close to the flame. Venom retracted back into your skin, exposing your leg. Carnage took the opportunity to snap your leg at the calf. You screamed in pain. He stepped on your broken leg and you nearly passed out from the feeling. It felt like your leg was on fire, and for all you knew, it could’ve been. You spat in his face with with acid spit but he dodged it.

“Beg for mercy.” He demanded.

“We will never beg a man for anything.” You spat in his face again, this time hitting him and burning him. Carnage picked up your hand and put it in the flame. Again, Venom retracted and your flesh was exposed. Carnage broke your hand and you let out another scream. He picked you up and threw you over the flame. You landed hard on your side and felt Venom slipping back into your body.

“We’re losing.” You cried.

“We know. We’re trying to heal you as fast as we can. Just hold on, baby.” Venom said desperately. You nodded as you watched Carnage approaching you again. You braced yourself and cradled your broken hand. He picked you up again and this time, sent you tumbling through the fire. Venom completely retreated into your body as you rolled. You suit was beginning to disperse as well, leaving patches of skin exposed here and there. Carnage targeted those spots and dug his claws into them. You let out a cry of pain. You knew you couldn’t last much longer. You couldn’t stand because of your broken leg, so you began to roll yourself towards the edge.

“Oh, I see. You want to see your boyfriend. Alright. Go ahead.” Carnage cackled as he kicked you off the building on the same side Peter was tossed off of. You landed on the ground and heard several ribs crack. You scooted yourself up against a wall and held your broken hand against your body.

“Venom, what’s happening?” You wheezed. You felt pain with every breath you took.

“You’re getting hurt faster than we can heal you. You need to stay here and rest for a few minutes so you can heal. It’s absolutely vital that you don’t go back up there. You will die almost instantly if we’re separated again.” Venom answered. Your odds weren’t good. You had troubled catching your breath and figured your lung had collapsed. You were in critical condition. Your whole body hurt. Everything inch of you was either broken, bloody, or bruised. You slowly felt your lung inflate and your leg beginning to heal. But you still had a million other injuries that would require more time. You looked around and noticed Peters body near you, conscious but not moving.

“Peter?” You wheezed.

“Stay still! We’re not even close to done!” Venom ordered. You ignored her and dragged yourself with one arm to over to Peter. He stirred but was too injured to move. His fingers twitched as he attempted to reach out and touch you.

“Stop moving! You’re dying!” Venom pleaded. You suddenly heard ambulance sirens wailing and noticed a police man just a few yards away. If you could muster enough strength to shout you could be taken to a hospital. You looked between the police man and Peter.

“Peter is dying.” You wheezed. Peters eyes were open but you could hear his heartbeat. Your biggest fear was coming true. It was fading.

You gave the police man one last look before uncurling your broken hand from underneath you and placing it on Peters shoulder. The simple move sent your body through worlds of pain.

“Go.” You whispered. Venom knew what you meant and would never dream of complying, but and she also knew there was no use arguing.

“We love you.” She stated. She sounded miserable.

“And I love us.” You responded, doing your bets to sound happy for her.

With that, Venom left your body and went into Peters. Peters body began to stir again as you felt yours beginning to shut down. You watched as cuts on his face healed and he gradually gained more movement in his body. You could hear his heart beat return to normal and you sighed happily against the pavement. You watched in joy as Peters body sprang up, as if he was pulled on a string. It reminded you of when you first bonded with Venom.

Peter transformed into Venom and began to climb the tower. You watched as the two people you loved the most ran to freedom, leaving you on the pavement to die. Your vision began to fade from red, to white, to black. You could see the outlines of four people standing before you.

“Y/n!” Mary’s voice said happily.

“Oh, isn’t she lovely?” A woman’s voice said.

“She’s beautiful. I can see why our son loves her.” A mans voice answered.

“Now, you know if Peter heard you say that he’d object and say that women are more than their looks.” Another’s mans voice said. He sounded older than the first man. The man and woman laughed.

“Of course. May taught him well.” The first mans voice said. Your eyes drooped as you saw one last figure approach you. You could only see their shoes.

“Y/n?” The voice asked. The voice was soft and sweet. You didn’t recognize it at first, but it sounded so familiar.

“Y/n? Is that you baby?” The voice asked again. You forced yourself to look up and saw a woman standing before you. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. She picked you up and held you in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s okay now, Y/n. Mommy’s got you.” The woman said. You let yourself relax in her embrace. You didn’t feel any pain anymore. You felt tranquility wash over your aching body.

Then everything went dark and you went to sleep.

Tag List 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare @vxidnik @maddie-laufeyson @bubblegumholland @the-blindwatcher @pmvelez97 @ziggyspurplehaze @grippleback-galaxy @fangeekkk @twilight-loveer @assemblemotherfuckers @bolivianchickennugget @founding-fuck-bois

[goodforsomeone]

Devotion Unspoken

Word Count- 3100

Idea stolen lovingly from @dickwheelie‘s post found here

https://dickwheelie.tumblr.com/post/186425585270

AO3 link-https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417147

It was a sunny day when Aziraphale decided it was time to finally do a tidy up of his shop, though not so much as to attract customers. He flipped the sign to closed and got to work, going to the depths of his shop and moving aside boxes of books he had yet to unpack. Looking through some of the old boxes that were filled to the brim, Aziraphale found quite an odd box that was hidden away.

The small box was made from a light wood and was covered with carefully written script with overlays of so many different types of flowers and other plants that it would take hours to figure out all the different species. The script itself was delicate but hardly looked like words at times. Aziraphale could see an angel here and a love there. Once opened, untying a lovely red ribbon that was surely made of silk and looked to have barely aged a day since originally wrapped around the box, in laid many different types of paper, covered from top to bottom with the same careful script as the box. From napkins to scraps to full lengths of paper, all of them looked to be equally old, and yet all of them had survived years of neglect. Aziraphale had no clue as to where these letters had originated from, for there were many who had entered his shop over the last few hundred years and if they didn’t look to be trying to buy a book, Aziraphale tended to leave them to their own devices.

 One piece of paper fluttered to the ground, or well it was really a napkin, and Aziraphale quickly picked it up before it could blow away, despite there being no wind in his shop. He unwrapped the small square and found more of the same script, and finally read it.

 June 7th, 1821

There’ve been many times I looked at you and was dazzled by your words, so softly spoken and delicate I wonder how you let me hear them. I’ve looked at you for so long with such longing I wonder if you just ignore it or if you’ve gotten your head stuck in your book for so long you forget I’m there. I wonder if it’s just God’s way of saying look at what you cannot have, for you surely cannot feel the same. It’s alright though, for if you allow me to continue to gaze at your lovely blue eyes, I can forgive most anything.

 Carefully placing the letter back in the box, Aziraphale was surprised by the fluttering feeling in his own chest. In many ways, he could understand it. Being allowed to gaze upon something so wonderful that sometimes you wonder if you truly deserve it. He tried not to think of a certain demon at this point, placing the lid back on the box and carrying it to his desk. Excavating this wonderous box required a more concentrated gaze, and well, he couldn’t much do that on the floor could he.

 Once placed on the desk, Aziraphale began to look at the box more closely, making sure not to smudge the careful drawings that appeared to have been done in pencil in contrast to the inked words. How many hours were spent on the box alone was a mystery, it looked like a courting gift? He slipped on his spectacles, enhancing his vision like a magnifying glass while they surely weren’t supposed to. He tried to identify the flora on the box, seeing acacia blossoms, camellia, azalea, daisies, daffodils, carnations, and so many more. Aziraphale was in awe really, the careful shading and sketching, the way each flower looked so realistic that if they had colour, they would look ready to fall right off the box. He couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t coloured in, a though crossing his mind that it was a gift unfinished, perhaps the writer and artist passed before they could give it to their beloved. The thought saddened him, but there was little that could be done now, the letters were from two centuries ago.

 Aziraphale removed the lid of the box and pulled free another letter, careful to not damage the fragile paper, a scrap that looked like it was taken from the back of a ripped book.  

 June 20th, 1820

The way you look at me causes my heart to ache so furiously that I am sure I am in the most blissful state of hell imaginable. You insist you are the good one, yet you allow such suffering unto me. Perhaps you rationalize it with the idea I am but a dastardly devil. I am a demon, but I find it is alright as long as you continue to come back despite it. It hurts to look and know you cannot return my feelings, from either your own stubborn pride or faith in heaven. You are the holder of my heart and I ache for you to allow me the privilege of returning.

 -he pulled a cue card out next, enraptured-

 August 27th, 1860

I wonder sometimes if you know how to affect me. If you were to know that with a smile and a simple please, it would get me to move heaven and hell for you. I love you more than anything in the world, and that is terrifying. The last time I loved something so much I was thrown out, cast away like what I thought and felt was blasphemy. It seems that’s all anyone feels these days, to love another man is punishable in Her eyes, as if She ever cared enough to have judgement on it.  She no longer cares for me, but you would never believe that. You seem to believe I have at least a little good in me, and maybe I like that.

 -next a piece of paper that was close to tearing, but a quick miracle saved it-

 December 25th, 1845.

There are times when I look at you and hate you for the way you make me feel, how oblivious you seem to be with your reprimands and scoffs, sometimes I wonder if you truly hate me. Then you turn around and offer me a slice of cake, read me a passage in your book, give me such a soft look that I fall for you all over again. I know you don’t recognize what I feel, I know you refuse to recognize the love I feel for you as that. I wonder if you’ll ever notice that all the good I do is because of you. I wonder if you know you helped pull me back from the ashes of my fall, brushing off all the soot of regret and the dust of hate.

I love you more than I would like to admit, I love you far more than I feel you could ever love me, if you were ever to recuperate this love. I know you’ve had other lovers, the blush against your cheeks when you meet up with me after a rendezvous, the sly smiles at young men we walk by when we meet, the far too familiar greetings to others. I don’t mind. I can’t. It’s your life, you do as you please. It still hurts though, to be denied for so long due to our respective sides. There’s nothing wrong with such relations, we both know this, but with relations between us? I have fallen far below you and we both know if our relationship at this stage is ever found out it would be the end times for us both.

I wish for nothing more than the day we can meet, and I can pull you close in my arms, and kiss you with all the passion I have had to hold in. I’ve made many stars in my time, but you shine brighter than them all, my angel.

 Aziraphale blinked a few times at the end of the letter, feeling only slightly overwhelmed. They were all surprisingly sweet, and quite sad. From the dates on the letters, they seemed to have been written over a lifetime, a lifetime of constant longing for someone he could never have. The letters were obviously never to be sent, none containing any self identifiers or envelopes with addresses and they were written on many things that wouldn’t be used for a formal letter, though maybe that was on purpose. They read like they would be prosecuted if the two’s relations were ever found out, presumably due to them both being men. They read like someone who was desperate for change but expected refusal. He picked up the next one.

 April 16th, 1861.

Your hands look so soft despite how much you do with them. How much care you put into your craft never callousing your delicate fingertips. The tight curl your hair stays in despite fashion, along with your phrases. I can’t help but wonder what you’d do when it goes out of fashion, though knowing you as I do you probably wouldn’t care and continue. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would think you never worked a day in your life. The things I’ve seen you do with such little care for what they’d do to you, always needing me to run after you to ensure your safety. I wonder if you do it on purpose, just to stay close to me at times. We’ve went years without seeing each other, yet I continue to write to you. I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you. If your mind wanders like mine does. I doubt the day will come that we can be frank with each other, but I still have some hope despite it all.

  Looking through the box there were many along the same vein, lamenting about how little his subject seemed to pay attention, how he saw good in the writer despite the writer’s protests. It was bittersweet in a sense, both refusing to believe the other in any case.

 November 16th, 1849

You held me last night, it was the oddest thing. The closest we’ve come before this was mere hand holding, which we quickly explained away before any implications could come about. Yet you held me close, such a loving embrace I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. Even Before, I don’t think anyone held me like that. With such love. It was due to me panicking of course, a bout which happens often after a visit. I’m not exactly what they want me to be as you know, they want bigger things, more targeted. They don’t understand people as well as you and I. The atrocities they can commit, the beauty in which they can create. I don’t think any could make something as beautiful as you though. You whispered in my ear like a lover, which I know we cannot be. It’s easier to think of excuses for our actions rather than reasons for them, it’s safer. There’s a deniability with excuses, and if you look too closely at our reasons you could see what those actions meant. You’d laugh if you heard me say that, sometimes I wonder if you think lowly of me. I try my best I hope you know, I try to keep us both safe.

You held me last night though, and I felt warm. I haven’t felt warm in so long. Not since I fell. You told me that it was to keep me out of trouble, but we both know better. I think that was the first time I’ve thought you could feel the same.

 The bell of the bookshop went off, and Aziraphale jumped. He was engrossed in this love story over the ages, though by the dates it didn’t seem that this letter’s content went anywhere sadly. The footsteps were more concerning for now though, as Aziraphale did try his best to ensure no book sales happened, so he got up to investigate it. Thankfully, it was only a patron who came by occasionally to drop off books of interest, though they hardly brought anything Aziraphale wanted. Their interactions were normally pleasant enough at the very least, but today the angel’s mind was elsewhere. It was on those letters, those love letters that didn’t seem to ever be sent.

 The writing wasn’t the best, it rambled and repeated itself, yet it was heartfelt. Aziraphale could feel the love on the worn pages, the crinkled edges carrying small doodles of flowers that were more than likely drawn while the writer was trying to think of how to word his next sentence. The drawings improved over time and looking back at the box he could see some of the more faded flowers were good but could be improved. A lifetime of love in a box, and Aziraphale kept wondering if the other man ever confessed. If either of the men ever confessed, for the angel was sure that the other man felt the same. He refused to believe the subject didn’t love the writer.

 The angel grabbed the next letter.

 September 20th, 1835

I dreamt of you last night. It was the most pleasant dream I’ve ever had. We held hands and walked together, we were allowed to kiss and hug and do all the mushy human things we are normally deprived of. You held me like I was important, and I don’t know if I ever felt like that. You know how Mother was, She insisted She loved us all equally, but it was clear She had Her favourites. I wonder sometimes if She sent me to work in a faraway place so She could forget She made me. I don’t even know if She liked the Garden I made for Her.

I dreamt of you last night and I forgot about all of this. All the pain and suffering we’ve been through in our long lives, it was like what others call heaven, though I don’t know anymore. You laughed at me when I told you this and kissed me again, insisting that I don’t think too hard about it. Heaven may not welcome me, but I still hope I don’t corrupt you so much it won’t welcome you.

 Aziraphale sighed softly, running a finger along the careful lettering. He picked up the next letter, and then the next, then the next. He barely read the dates, all out of order yet it didn’t seem to matter. The letters came one or twice a year, all of them unsigned and covered with doodles. Some had sketches that were a lot worse than the flowers, others held such detailed scenery that Aziraphale would be looking more at the pictures than the words describing the writer’s love, his chivalry, the words that are thrown around that hurt the writer but never for long. It hurt the angel’s heart to know that the writer merely brushed these instances aside, but maybe he mentioned it and they didn’t happen again. He hoped at least.

 He let his hand go to the box, looking forward to more, when he realized it was the last one. Aziraphale held it up, this one written on proper paper rather than a napkin or wax paper or book page, and was similarly covered in drawings that were so lovingly drawn that they still overwhelmed the angel’s senses. Aziraphale wondered how he couldn’t feel the loved box before today.

 September 30th, 1862

My love I find myself yearning for you more and more each passing year, it’s quite inconvenient. I wish to tell you everyday but the threats in our lives seem to be coming around more and more often. I wish to tell you everything, but I still fear you will never see me as anything more than our first meeting. A demon meant to come tempt you away. Sometimes it seems like you can’t accept who I am but remain my friend for what I could become. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

I am to meet you soon, we haven’t seen each other in a few months and call me sentimental but I already miss you. Can you imagine how long we used to go without seeing each other? That seems unthinkable now.

I hope you forgive me one day for what I must ask of you. I ask so little in return for what I do, and I never expect it to be returned. Sometimes it’s easier to remain hiding than it is to risk jumping over the edge in hopes someone will catch you my angel, but I am tired of hiding. I love you so much and I hope you’ll understand that I’ll never leave you as long as I can help it. I will love you till the world’s light goes out, along with all the stars in the sky. Please just trust me.

 Aziraphale let the letter fall from his fingertips, letting out a slow breath. It was the last of the letters, and the angel didn’t know what to think of it. An ambiguous end, for it was unclear if the writer told the other man his feelings, his devotion, if the writer wrote another letter and sent that one to his beloved. If he died before he could finish his lifetime of love letters. It was clear that he was planning to ask the other man for something, perhaps his love in return?

 The angel carefully placed each letter back into the box, retying the ribbon and placing it on a bookshelf, somewhere people could easily see it when walking in. Although the writer’s story was left unfinished, perhaps others who enjoyed browsing would take his words to lead their own actions. The date on the last letter nagged at Aziraphale though, he was sure it was important for some reason.

 Going back to cleaning after hours of just reading, though that wasn’t unexpected with this principality, his thoughts were lost as he dusted just enough to not damage the books but leaving enough to deter customers. He brought out his storage and began displaying the newer books he acquired, his eyes wandering back to the box more and more often. When he remembered, he dropped a first edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

 The letter’s date was one day before Crowley laid to rest for nearly a century, the day he had asked for the holy water that saved them both. Oh good lord.

[iwillbeinmynest]

An Owed Debt- Bucky x May(oc)   Chapter 13

Authors Notes: Okay I know I left y’all hanging last time so I tried to get this out as soon as I could.

Notes/Warnings:  Violence, blood, death, explosions, arson

 The grass hadn’t even grown around the sides of the building where there had been construction not too long ago. The whole of this Hydra facility looked fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the horrors they were capable of.

 Bucky, followed by Steve and Wanda, ran towards the building in the rain. Their clothes getting soaked in the down pour, clung to their muscles. Bucky held up a fist and stopped just inside the tree line that hid them in the dark of the storm. He surveyed the building with scrutiny, counting the guards, memorizing the weapons they carried.

 Hydra was arrogant. They only posted three guards outside, trusting that the newness of the building made up most of their security, since no one was supposed to know about it. The guards looked tired, worn down and sleepy from a long nights shift.

 “We need to go now, before they change guards.” Steve suggested.

 Bucky nodded, and on cue of a roll of thunder, he bolted for the guard closest to the door, leaving the others to his friends. Bucky tackled the guard, who was mid yawn and didn’t even see it coming, and beat him to a pulp in the muddy ground, deciding to just leave him with a broken nose and unconscious.

 He kicked in the door and took out the next two guards who had been stationed inside. In the midst of the short brawl, one of the guards managed to cut Bucky’s bicep, which only served as fuel for the beating he received in return.

 Bucky’s wet hair whipped back from the speed at which he ran through the long hallway, then, jolted forward when Bucky came to a sudden stop. Seven Guards rounded a corner, rifles at the ready, and opened fire on the Winter Soldier.

 The hallway turned red as Wanda shielded Bucky and Steve from behind. Bucky raised his AR-15 and while the guards sprayed Wanda’s shield with bullets, Bucky picked them off one by one, with a single shot to the head. When the last guard fell, only one man stood in the hallway.

 “Travis.” Bucky growled.

 “Soldat.” Travis grinned with arms behind his back. “I didn’t expect to see you again, this is awkward.”

 Bucky lurched forward but fell straight to the ground like a ton of bricks. He let out a mangled scream and struggled to get at Travis but his brute strength was nothing against the loss of feeling in his legs and upper arms. Steve drew his arm back to throw his shield, only to have it fall to the ground with a thud when his hands went limp.

 Travis chuckled and stared at Wanda. “Would you like to give it a go?” He asked her, arrogantly. Wanda lowered her hands and the red screen in front of the trio faded. “Smart girl. I’d hate to turn something like you into a vegetable.” Wanda clenched her jaw at being objectified but stayed silent.

 The hallways were flooded with screams and Travis grinned at the reaction of the group. Wanda jerked her head and her eyes widened as she tried to find the source of the shrill sound. Steve, who’s feet seemed glued to the floor, started breathing rapidly for fear of who’s voice he was hearing. And Bucky, he lay on the floor struggling and screaming.

 “No!” He shouted so loud that it almost drowned out the screaming. Almost. He clawed at the ground, his short nails scraping against the painted concrete floors. A strained growl erupted from his throat as he finally identified the voice that pierced his ears.

 “May!” He screamed her name so loud that he could feel his vocal chords ripping.

 “What are you doing to her?” Steve demanded from his fixed place in the hall. His voice was panicked, covered with a fading veil of authority.

 Travis smiled. “We’re fixing her, cleansing her of her troubles, if you will.”

 “They’re wiping her!” Bucky screamed and his fingers twitched to grab at Travis. Bucky resembled a bug pinned down for display, only he wasn’t granted the decency of death first.

 “Why?” Wanda asked. “What purpose will she serve you?”

 “She’ll be mine.” Travis replied as if he had just been asked if he had the time. “Together we will serve Hydra and be the best assets that have ever been. Even better than you, Soldat.” He said smugly.

 Bucky continued to squirm and scream, refusing to give up on May. He knew the word, asset, knew its true meaning. To Hydra, assets were tools, things to be used and thrown away when they no longer served them the way they wanted. He knew what she was feeling right now. He knew the pain she was going through and he felt his insides being shredded at the knowledge that his torture was now hers.

 “Wanda!” Bucky begged. “Please!”

 In a flash, Wanda threw a red ball of light at Travis’ chest, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the wall. Travis’ head cracked against the cinder block wall and he winced. Bucky was finally freed and he peeled himself off the floor and charged at the boy who hurt May. Bucky landed on top of Travis, who was trying to crawl away for a respite, and he wailed on him. He landed punch after punch to Travis’ face and ribs only to ripped away by Steve before he could finish the job of beating him to a pulp.

 Bucky fought against Steve to escape the Captain’s arms. Steve fought back just enough to get Bucky’s attention and pushed him away. “Hey, Hey! Buck, stop!” Steve hit Bucky in the chest, with an open palm when he tried to go back at Travis, who’s head was shrouded in Wanda’s haze. “Hey! He is not your focus right now! You said you could handle this, now, go find May!”

 Bucky glared at the now incapacitated Travis and flared his nostrils with a heavy exhale. His red world faded back into its normal shades. The ringing in his ears dissipated and May’s screams snapped him into reality. He ran past Steve and Wanda and headed for the source of the sound and with every turn of a corner her pain and agony grew louder.

 He knew, even as he ran to save her, that this sound would haunt him. He had told himself he would be there for her, that he would protect her and because he failed, Hydra was inflicting the exact same torture on her. This was his fault.

 Bucky burst through a final door to behold the horror he had only seen in his head. May was locked in his chair, metal plates on either side of her skull, arms clamped down, that metal ring spinning above her. He took a step forward and was met with a blow to the jaw. His head whipped sideways but he recovered quickly to see a terrified guard winding up for another punch.

 Bucky was over this. He was tired of people getting in his way.

 He punched the guard so hard that the man toppled backwards to the ground. The guard braced himself against the floor and spit blood and two teeth onto the stones beneath him. The guard struggled, but faced Bucky again. Bucky wasted no time, and swung his leg, kicking the guard in the chin, forcing loose three more teeth.

 “Did you do this?” Bucky demanded. He didn’t need to explain himself, the guard knew he was talking about May.

 The guard, bloody and sprawled out across the floor, chuckled. “Hail-” Bucky pulled his pistol from his thigh and shot him twice in the chest and once in the head.

 Bucky ran to the control panels and eyed the knobs and switches. He had no clue what to do. Touching anything might make things worse for May. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair and grunted in frustration.

 May jerked in the chair and somehow managed to scream louder. Her eyes were screwed shut and tears and sweat coated her face and skin. Her fists were clenched and her jaw was going to be sore from how tight her grip on the mouth guard was.

 Bucky couldn’t see her like that anymore. He didn’t know what damage this would or wouldn’t do, but he saw no other option. He grabbed the spinning ring and ripped it from the chair. He quickly, but carefully, ripped each of the metal plates from the side of May’s head.

 She finally stopped screaming and her body went limp. Bucky broke open the metal cuffs that held her to the chair and unbuckled the strap across her head. May’s body twitched with each jerk Bucky made against the chair but she never woke up.

 Bucky almost had to pry May’s mouth open to remove the rubber guard. As he lifted her from the chair he could feel just how tense her muscles still were. He cradled her against him and swallowed a sob at finally having her back.

 A small man burst through the doors to the chamber. He was old and sporting a lab coat. Bucky didn’t know him by face but he had seen many of his kind before.

 “No!” The man pleaded, his eyes glued to May. “Please don’t take her. She’s the only compete success my labs have seen in decades.” The doctor reached his arms out towards May and he whimpered like a child yearning for his favorite toy.

 Bucky stiffened, tempted to let anger drown him again and rip out this man’s throat but May exhaled against his chest and calmed the storm inside him. He had her now, that’s what was important. He marched towards the doctor, who shrunk to the side with each step Bucky took. By the time Bucky reached the door, the doctor was no longer a barrier to freedom but an annoyance that cried for a belonging.

 “Please.” The man begged again. “She’s all I have.”

 Bucky ignored him and pushed the door open. The doctor reacted in desperation and lunged for May. Bucky held May with one arm and smacked the doctor with the back of his metal hand, sending the doctor flying back and knocking him out.

 Bucky marched through the hallways, May in tow, with no resistance, there was no one left to disrupt his silent walk. He locked eyes with Steve, who hauled an incapacitated and bound Travis over his shoulder, and they nodded as they walked side by side behind Wanda out of the building. When they approached the final door, the door that would lead them out side and away from all of this, Bucky tossed three bombs down the steep hallway, letting them roll deeper into the building.

 They team had just enough time to walk into the tree line before the first explosion and Bucky reveled in the following chaos. He knew the building would burn, he knew who was alive inside it but he didn’t care. That scientist deserved his fate. He was just happy to be the one to deliver him his end.

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