#damnit you have so many names

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game (1)

au where bruce is attracted to his robins and batgirls. he tries not to think about it or act on it, but it's getting more difficult with every new member of his team he acquires. does anyone know? do the robins and batgirls notice his weird behavior? what do they do about it? do they ever find out the truth? who would think it's terrible and who would find it strangely hot/comforting/nice? does bruce ever act on his feelings?

for the ask game!

oh my GOD do i have thoughts for AUs like this, i love this shit so dearly, dirtybadwrong Bruce who's trying to keep a lid on it my beloved.

i think the fun of this AU is if characters would notice Bruce lusting for themselves vs would they notice Bruce lusting for a different Robin/Batgirl. like does Dick pick up on it when it's just him and Bruce? no, because it's just. him and Bruce. he and Bruce are weird and complicated and hold endless bounds of nuance. that's just How Bruce Is, and Dick is the "test run", in a sense. he knows Bruce is new to this whole sidekick/family thing and is giving Bruce grace for being rough around the edges. but when Bruce starts looking at Jason or Tim or Cass that way, that's when Dick starts to notice. it's never enough of a suspicion he feels justified to bring it up, but the thought lingers. he's hyperaware and grows less and less comfortable with leaving them alone with Bruce. it's a weird game of chicken, Dick and Bruce staring each other down when Bruce's touch lingers too long. each waiting for the other to say something first. if Bruce ever broke and actually acted on his feelings, Dick would be eaten alive by the guilt of knowing something was up, but never saying something until it was too late.

obviously, Cass would know. there's no world where Cass *doesn't* know, the nature of who and what she is would immediately clock it. but the issue is, Cass doesn't have a good framework of what family looks like. she doesn't really understand familial vs romantic love bc she has no firsthand experience of what a parent's love should even look like. so she never calls it out. she just watches. i'm a fan of Cass believing this is normal and believing she too can express and act on attraction that's vaguely incestuous. maybe it's with Babs, maybe it's with Dick or Tim or Bruce himself. but she recognizes this as Normal and Accepted within the Batfamily, so it severely fucks up her understanding of familial love and i just. man it's my favorite thing about Cass in Batcest honestly, is how you can play with her lack of experience with love, boundaries, and sexuality.

Tim is the fun one for me. because my favorite flavor of BruTim is when Tim knows, as he agrees to be Robin, that there's a non-zero chance that Bruce is going to be Weird and agrees anyway because he's decided it's an acceptable risk. so Tim knows from the get-go because he's expecting it. if Bruce acts on his attraction, i think it's either with Tim or Cass first, because they're the most likely to confront him about it in a way that isn't entirely negative. Tim has accepted it's a possibility and Cass just seeks being loved and touched so. it leads to the first time someone's ever confronted Bruce about it. and the thing is, Bruce really doesn't like confrontation about his flaws. the first time Tim tries to imply he's okay with it, Bruce would lash out at the idea, tell Tim how inappropriate that is and benches Tim for a week. it'd probably take a united front from Cass and Tim to get Bruce to even *admit* to the attraction. still Bruce wouldn't allow it to happen and he brushes them off until finally, the dam breaks. it's fun if there's a cause like sex pollen, but i think it's *more* fun if it's just. a random fucking Tuesday and finally Bruce is at his limit. he has no real reason, there's nothing particularly different about that day's routine. he just sees Tim or Cass striping armor and sighs and gives in.

i don't think Steph, Jason, or Babs would notice until anything substantial happened. not because they're not wicked smart, but just because none of them were looking for it. Jason put Bruce on a pedestal when he was alive, and when he came back from the dead he wasn't close enough to be noticing Bruce's interpersonal dynamics outside of his narrow scope. Steph has no real framework for what healthy fatherhood looks like, so if Bruce's touches linger, if he stares too long, she just shrugs and assumes it's how it is. and Babs was just never quite close enough to Bruce to notice. if and when she notices, is when actual sexual things start to happen between Cass and Bruce. because Cass would see no reason to hide it. Babs would be pissed, but it'd be tricky to navigate. Cass would be an adult, even if she's only 18/19, so technically, she's old enough to be consenting. if nothing else, Bruce is a careful man. even when he breaks and gives in to his desires, he covers his tracks well. he makes sure he has enthusiastic consent and there's no legal recourse that could be taken. age of consent and all that. there's not much Babs can *do* other than try to tell Cass (and/or Tim) that this isn't normal or okay. not that it gets her anywhere, but god would she try.

by the time Duke comes along (if we venture out of the pre-Flashpoint era) i think it's a sort of. open secret, in the Batfamily. talked about in nothing but hushed whispers and knowing glances. at some point, they've all had sex with Bruce, caving all for different reasons. some more than others. Tim sees it as a duty, Cass sees it as a way of seeking comfort, Steph sees it as getting Bruce's approval for once, etc. it's never forced on them, but eventually, they all come to Bruce sooner or later. and that's the fun irony of it, i think. they try to convince the others not to, but would go to Bruce on their own well. because complicated reasons they can't put into words. sometimes, Bruce is just a messy man who doesn't realize how prized his Attention to for the rest of the Batfamily. that weird duality of not liking him, but also wanting desperately for him to like you. all of them have dealt with it, at some point. so for Duke, it takes a while for him to understand this... whole dynamic. it's Cass who tries to explain it to him, and he's a little horrified, a lot confused. especially when Bruce starts staring at him a little too long as well. i think he'd only want to watch first but well. they all cave eventually.

also fun bonus if we venture into the Dark Knight Returns universe for my bestest girl Carrie Kelley: there's such a like, "i'm fucking around and i'm finding out" vibe to Carrie. like Tim, she's very proactive in just. deciding she's going to be Robin and she's ready for whatever that entails. (IMO canon Carrie is closer to fanon Tim than canon Tim is but *that* deserves its own post-) like she takes one look at the old man that is Batman and goes yup. he's never fucking getting rid of me now. if Bruce started having weird feelings about her, i think she'd have *fun* with it. she's decided she's in it for the long haul and for whatever being Robin means so. she's almost teasing about it, seeing how hard she can push before Bruce snaps. since it's an older, gruffer Bruce, i think he'd express open annoyance at it first, almost a sort of banter about how Carrie behave. but of course he caves and Carrie leans into it, because there's a fun in having all of Bruce's attention to herself. in the main timeline, Bruce is pretty split with so many Robins and Batgirls, but during their era, it's *just* her and him and she's very proud she's got him all to herself.

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Reposts are 100000% appreciated. Also my inbox is open for requests!

[kajibunny]

⟡˖ ࣪ ren kaji as your boyfriend ₊˚⊹⋆

✿ summary: relationship headcanons (ren kaji x reader) ✿ warnings: awkward silliness, some parts are a lil suggestive ✿ a/n: i love this man so much you don’t understand pls ;__; hi i'm new here and ofc my first post is abt my love, ren kaji hihi pls be nice!! ✿ wc: 960

ꕤ kaji is more than just your bf, he’s also your bff, partner-in-crime, and sometimes guard dog (lol).

ꕤ he’s a little mean, but he means well. 

ꕤ everyone in town refers to you both as each other’s “other half”, as he relies on you quite a lot. not because he wants to boss you around (well, well, iykyk second year grade captain ren kaji mode on) but because he immensely trusts you.

ꕤ you also rely on him a lot, and he is a very protective boyfriend. he won’t let anyone harm a single hair on your head if he can help it.

ꕤ lots of people thought you two were already together way before you two actually got together, since you two were always…well, together. to the point that you adapted each other’s habits and vocabulary. (you catch yourself picking up kaji's direct tone of speaking and occassional "damnit!") no one was at all surprised when he introduced you as his lover. to everyone, you two were practically married already.

ꕤ it’s either both of you are bantering or play fighting one second, then all over each other the next. if ever you two have serious arguments, he’s usually the first one to apologize and ask how he can make it up to you. kaji is very mature that way, and is scared of hurting you, as he treasures you with all his heart (and body lol).

ꕤ has this habit of putting his lollipop in your mouth - just to see what you would do. loves the faces you make when you least expect it. thinks you’re so cute like that, but of course, will never admit it out loud. 

ꕤ when agitated, he calms down when you give him head pats and tell him that he’s a good boy. (double meaning i’m telling you)

ꕤ his love language is definitely quality time! he loves hanging around with you, walking home together, having deep talks in high places like a grassy hill or rooftop until the sun rises, listening to music together while you lean on his shoulder absorbing the sound from his headphones.

ꕤ your pet names for each other are lowkey insults like “idiot, dumbass, stupid” but affectionately. it became kind of like an inside joke between the two of you. he’d say the sweetest things, then pair it with a completely opposite word, like “it’s because i love you…you fool.” and you can't tell whether he wants to fight you or if he wants to kiss you. 

ꕤ kaji likes having collaborative playlists with you. doesn’t matter if you two don’t have the same music taste, since he’s always curious about what you’re listening to. sometimes sneaks in a few hidden messages using song titles in his playlists, for your eyes only.

ꕤ during the cold season, he lets you slip your hands in his hoodie pockets, embracing him from behind, like he’s your natural heat pack.

ꕤ when sleeping together, he’s a (literal) freak in the sheets. a blanket and pillow hogger, takes up more than half of the bed, ends up in the strangest sleeping positions, and at times accidentally pushes you until you end up on the floor. 

he definitely does not mean it though, if you hug him or hold him tightly while sleeping, there’s a higher chance he’ll stay still.

ꕤ when not on the bed, kaji likes to take naps on your lap or your shoulder, because according to him “it’s comfy and soft. like a pillow”

ꕤ lets you hold his valuables - lets you wear his hoodies, lets you hold his headphones, lets you drink from his bottled water, and even lets you suck on his lollipop (the one in his mouth okay but maybe also sometimes the one in his pants asdjbjdjcnd;;) but only you are allowed, because you’re special.

ꕤ you had to learn basic first aid because kaji always ends up with many injuries after fights, and gets angry at anyone who tries to touch him or disinfect his wounds, except for you. (soft!kaji *sighs* the effect you have on him aaaa) 

ꕤ makes a barrier with you in his arms whenever you’re passing with him in a crowded or busy street, to make sure no one bumps you or gets too close to you, to keep you safe.

ꕤ kaji is naturally such a good kisser, but claims he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. he tells you it’s just because he’s eaten a lot of lollipops, so he probably practiced unknowingly with his mouth and tongue. (help this is so funny)

ꕤ so many awkward and cute moments, that makes you love your little idiot ren kaji more and more each day (if that’s even possible) 

accidentally bit your hand when you fed him food. (from that day on, woke up to the realization that he might have a little bit of a biting kink)

once tried to do a kabedon on you like you two saw in one film you watched together but ended up tripping a bit, landing on top of you and squishing you.

there was a time he asked for love advice from hiragi when you two started dating, and umemiya ended up eavesdropping on them, and kaji ran away so fast as if he saw a ghost (ref: ch 58 kaji-senpai lol)

forgot he was wearing his headphones with music on full blast and broadcasted a little too loudly about how much he missed you because “you were gone on your trip for so long” and he “wanted to kiss your annoying face” all in front of his giggly vice captains, who of course heard every single thing he said. you made sure to tease him a lot about it afterwards.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[misslovasstuff]

Op!men seeing you hurt

sanji x reader, zoro x reader

Sanji

The only occasion when he calls you by your name and not one of his words of endearment

With the speed of light, he rushes when he hears you’ve been shot in your leg.

He’s panicked but tries to keep his cool

“Show me please, - Sanji touches your thigh gently, touching the end of your dress to pull it up but you stop his hand. - Y/n?”

“I’m fine… it’s nothing.” - you claim, trying not to let your expression give away your pain.

Sanji stared at you, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head, anger building up. Who even dares to hurt you this way?

“Please, let me see. - he notices the worry on your face and tries to lighten up the situation. - What, are you shy? Love, it was only yesterday when you had my head pressed in between. Now…”

Your cheeks blush, looking away and getting somewhat a sense of relief seeing him smile, although you know deep down it was forced to reassure you.

Sanji raises your dress up, noticing your wound on your thigh. His eyes widen and he curses.

“Damnit!… - he caresses the unwounded area of your thigh as he looks at your eyes. - It must hurt a lot, right? Let’s take you to Chopper!”

Sanji picks you up and you put your hands around him, head resting on his chest.

“I’m really sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to be a bother for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. - he says sharply. - If you wanna feel sorry about something, feel sorry for the bastards that did this to you and that have to deal with me. I’m gonna give them ten times more of the pain you’re feeling now, love.”

“I am in no pain when I’m with you.” - your voice gentle and soft and words so genuine and selfless make Sanji feel even more at fault for letting you get hurt. But his heart starts beating faster and he can’t deny it as your hand rests on his chest.

“I won’t let you get hurt ever again. I promise.” - Sanji kisses your forehead, flames of anger extinguished by your gentle love only to burn brighter than ever after he leaves you at Chopper’s care, kissing the palm of your hand and finishing the business he has with the ignorants who dared to touch his woman.

Zoro

“Are you ok?! Oi, answer me!” - Zoro shakes your body, noticing a lack of reaction.

“…who did this… - he whispers, putting strands of hair behind your ear. - Please answer me, baby. Open your eyes… please…”

He’d never beg for anything, but now more than ever, Zoro felt most helpless. Hi strength could not help, nor his swordsmanship or any other asset he deemed as important.

He had his lover layed on the ground and hurt, and he wasn’t there to protect, to defend, to lay down his life for you.

“fucking hell… - he cusses, grip on his sword tightening. - … why didn’t you call for me?!”

Zoro takes your body, pulling you close to his embrace as his forehead meets yours.

“How can the world hurt such a soul like yours… tell me… open your eyes and scold me as always… please, love…” - his voice has a distinctive desperate tone, jaw clenched that relaxes when he feels his clothes pulled.

You reach your hand to the nape of his shirt, opening your eyes and giggling slightly at his widen gaze.

“You’re so silly, you know?” - and there, you scold him. But instead of having a counter argument, Zoro hugs you tightly, pecking your lips before asking many questions.

“Are you in much pain? Are you feeling fine? Which bastard did this to you, give me his name cause I swear to-

“Relax, - you breathe heavily but still manage to relax your fuming boyfriend. - the fight is over isn’t it? Let’s just go back to the sunny.”

Zoro sighs, scanning your face before saying:

“I could have not handled a second more in this world without you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

It’s true, although your vision a bit blurry, you can feel his voice shaking and his tight grip on your arms as he holds you, perhaps to convince himself that you’re here with him, and you’re alive.

“Then I’ll make sure to love you for a lifetime, Zoro.”

This man doesn’t usually shed tears but, his eyes get a bit watery as he presses his lips against yours, then shaking his head and sighing in relief.

“Ok enough kissing now, let’s get you treated.”

“You’re the one kissing me, idiot!”

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Shush (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Part Three of Painter and Sebastian on the surface, small bit of angst in the beginning? But it's not really angst. I apologize if Painter really isn't written that often in this little series of mine, little computer needs the attention :(

Anyways, I seriously cherish all of you who read the last ones! I hope you guys have an amazing day and a wonderful sleep :33

Also! Series will be named Slice of Life, it's a bit boring but it fits

Credit for the dividers to @cafekitsune

The distant squeak of a door opening wakes you.

Eyes snapping opening, you hurriedly sat up, glancing around your room to see if anything is out of place. Oh god, oh god what is it? Where is it? Is it a Wall Dweller? God those things can't even leave you alone-! You stopped when you realized you're still in your room, you're still in bed. Wrapped up in blankets. Nothing is coming after you anymore, nothing. Eyes still darting around the room in confused panic, attempting to find anything out of place.

Dresser by the door, your messy desk pushed up against the wall, your coats hanging off the coat hanger in the corner of the room; turning your head, spotting the potted plants growing by the window, the dark sky speckled with shiny lights. You're home, not down underneath the sea anymore.

Letting out a sigh, you slumped down, using your hands to cover your eyes. It's tiring. This has been a routine for several days now; you wake up in the middle of the night to the slightest noise, thinking you're back down in the facility back with Sebastian and Painter scavenging for supplies, attempting to avoid death and survive.

~~~

"Fucking shit-!" You turned too late, a Wall Dweller jumping onto you, the force of it causing you to fall towards the ground. Damnit, you were too busy with the circuit that you didn't hear the damn thing! Its blood-stained claws dangerously close to your throat, your arms pushing back with all the strength you could muster.

Panic swells in your whole entire body, your heartbeat beating loudly in your ears as you struggled to push that damn thing off. But to no avail, its claws were barely touching the column of you neck now.

Tears began pricking at the edge of your eyes, no no no no nononononononononono-! This can't be how it ends, you're so close to your goal-!

~~~

A light knock startles you out of the memory, head snapping up to the door. Did you imagine it? A few seconds passed.

*Knock knock*

Getting out from underneath the covers, you cautiously walked over to the door, slowly opening the door knob as you peeked in through the gap. Only did you open it fully once you saw the tear-stained face of Sebastian, concern written all over your face.

"Seb?" Calling out gently to the man, he looked down at you, a sadness in his eyes. Silently reaching up, you cup the side his face, slowly swiping your thumb underneath one of his eyes to rid of a stray tear. "Seb what's wrong?" He merely nuzzles into the palm of your hand, his eyes shut, a frown tugging at the edges of his mouth. His other hand merely grabs at the your unoccupied hand and intertwines his larger fingers with yours, the third merely resting on your forearm.

A rush of heat flushes across your cheeks, but you quickly pushed that down, scolding yourself. Sebastian needs comfort right now, no need to get flustered. You've done this several times!

But no matter how many times it happens, butterflies still erupt in your stomach.

There has been several instances where you seen Sebastian like this— all rare—where he just couldn't hold in the stress he felt or the amount of nightmares he attempted to endure by himself. So in order to combat that, you suggested something like physical touch, since that was something that helped when you when you were stressed. He rejected it at first, saying something along the lines that he, "wasn't a baby that needs to be consoled whenever it cries". But when it happened again, he went up to you and silently held your hand, eyes purposely avoiding your gaze.

A small frown settles upon your lips, your hand currently intertwined with his giving it a soft squeeze. "You wanna come in?" You whispered, sweeping a stray hair behind his ear fin. Flickering his eyes open, he merely nods, half-lidded eyes looking down at you as he nuzzles deeper into your palm.

~~~

"Careful, don't want the whole entire thing to fall on us.." Dresser pushed to the side, coats laid on your bare bed, your chair missing from your desk; all used to make a cozy blanket cove. Since your bed wasn't big enough for the two of you, this would have to suffice. You even dug around a few old boxes in your closet and found some fairy lights you had, using them to give the inside a feeling of warmth. Pillows large and small and fluffy blankets scattered the inside of the fort, even a few plushies scattered around.

You even went out of your way to grab a few snacks and drinks from the kitchen, said snacks in a little corner of the cove.

"This is stupid." The man remarked, lying down on his back, a good portion of his tail peaking out the entrance of the fort. His head resting his on your stomach as he pops in a piece of dried mango into his mouth, your legs spread out comfortable.

"Shut up, it's not stupid," Using the brush to comb out the small knot in his hair, "-it's genius." That earned a playful scoff from Sebastian, small grins appearing on both your faces. "Oh it so is stupid." He counters, offering a piece of the dried fruit up to your mouth, a quiet thanks slipped out of your mouth before you ate it.

"Shush, none of that." Once his hair was combed and fully free of knots, you began separating his hair into three sections to be braided. Now that you think about it, this kind of feels like a sleepover, the whole blanket fort, the snacks, hell even the braiding.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Just . . . this kind of reminds me of a sleepover." A chuckle leaves your lips right when you're finishing Sebastian's braid, looping the hair tie one last time before letting go, "Done."

Sebastian stays laying in your lap, now looking up at you, an unreadable expression present. You gotta say though, he looks very pretty with his hair up, all his eyes present with a few stray hairs here and there.

". . . I never had a sleepover." He mumbled sitting up, adjusting himself so he was lying down on his stomach, bringing over a pillow to rest his head and upper arms on. His third one looked for your hand, quickly intertwining them once he did. The fluttering feeling came back tenfold, a blush threatening to appear as he peered up at you with those half-lidded eyes.

Quickly brushing it off, you leaned over to the small corner, grabbing a juice with your free hand before leaning back, "Really? Not even as a kid?"

"Nah."

Silence overtook the fort, mulling over a response as you took a swing out of your juice, "Well, we're going to have to fix that now, aren't we?" You smiled broadly at Sebastian, giving a squeeze to your intertwined hands.

Genuine surprise overtook his face, the fins of his ears perked up at your statement, a blue flush flooding his cheeks. "R-Really?"

"Yes, absolutely." Turning on your phone, you took a glance at the date, "How about this, every Friday, we'll make a blanket fort. I'll go out and buy whatever snacks and drinks you want, and we'll put on a movie. Hell, even let Painter join, let them have some fun too." Turning back to him, you grin, "How about it?"

He merely stares in silence, eyes wide as the words process in his mind. "You're . . . really serious about this?"

"Of course, we'll make up some other things you missed out on as well!"

". . . you're so stupid."

"HEY!"

". . . yeah, I like that idea."

Last Part, Next Part

[oogalybooglay]

|gentle now…|

(Sebastian gets hurt so you patch our fishy up)

(YOU GUYS ARE COOL, YOU GET MORE SEBASTIAN FANFICTION!)

The day was as simple as the last, Sebastian was waiting in his makeshift shop inside the vents for expendables to come by and buy something, and honestly? Most of them were just there to flash him with those STUPID FLASH BEACONS! (Authors interjections: in this one, he DOESN'T have a double barrel shot gun)

recently, Sebastian’s had to crush so many flash beacons his hand was sore and cut up so it hurt to move, to he’s had to resort to using the smaller arm.

he heard the familiar thumps of expendables walking to his shop, as much as he didn’t want to, he whispered

“pssssst! In here, I got something for ya”

(Authors interjections: TW this area of the fanfic has blood, and a slight description of glass in the hands, nothing to bad but I though YALL should know before you read ❤️)

you and the others army crawl through the vent, you look up and wave at Sebastian, greeting the shopkeeper with a smile. Standing up, one of the expendables with a sly, mischievous grin, unclips a flash beacon from their belt and points it hat Sebastian, who was already getting aggravated. As soon as they pulled the trigger, he shielded his eyes and lifted them up and snarled,

“don’t do that AGAIN”

He crushed the beacon with his sore hand, forgetting it was, as I said, sore. At this point? It was muscle memory, he winced sharply at the large amount of stinging pain as it shot through his arm. The skin on his hand, which was more sensitive than ever, bled. He felt each piece of glass protruding into his hands, he dropped the expendable and clenched his eyes closed. You see the pain in his face and the blood from his hand and rush over, “are you ok?! Jesus- come here, gimme your hand-“ you unclip a med kit from your belt and pop it open.

Sebastian looked down at you and slowly extended his hand, it was slightly shaking.

“Damnit…..ow…. Get it over with… it hurts like hell”

you slowly and gently removed the glass from his hand, whipped up the blood, then started sanitizing it, don’t want an infections do we? Sebastian’s reeled back a little and hissed, you spoke in a gentle voice

“easy now… I know it hurts, but we don’t want an infection alright?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and grumbled, “I know.. I know..”

The expendable were temped to leave, but waited till you were done patching up sebs hand.

after you finished wrapping up his hand, Sebastian flexed his hand and made sure the bandage was tight enough, you closed the Medkit and mumbled, “gentle now… don’t reopen the cuts.” Sebastian nodded

“…….thank you {name}…..”

THE SECOND ONE IS DONE! I hoped you enjoyed it 😜 again, it’s just my second one, so it’s prob bad (update: ITS NOT BAD PAST ME DAMN), criticisms welcomed (don’t be too mean)

100

FUCKING LIKES?? HUH?? HOW DID I GET HERE. I KNOW ITS BARELY ANYTHING FOR TUMBLR BUT FOR ME? GIDIF UTSURZKG TYSM JAHHHHHHHH

I might’ve forgotten about this one

shhhhh

[hitchyboi]

Dating Havik Headcanons #1

Y'ALL OKAY THIS IS FOR MEEEEEEE XD I NEED MORE HAVIK AND GOD DAMNIT I'LL PROVIDE IT IF NO ONE ELSE WILL!

Oki thank you~

Content Warning- It's Havik. Gore, Blood, Violance, Self Mutilation, one small NSFW bit, Swearing (That's just me)

Cuteness aggression to the max. He can't help it, his partner is so precious when he's hugging them all he can imagine is squeezing them until their ribs break and pierce their lungs. If he's caressing their face, they can feel the way his fingers twitch, itching to dig his nails into their soft flesh.

He chews and bites. A lot. After Scorpion burned his face off he realized his ability to just straight bite things got easier without skin in the way. Will hug his partner from behind and chew on their hair cause he likes the texture. Cuddling? Random bites the entire time and they range from light and playful to you think he's genuinely trying to eat you sometimes. He isn't, kinda. Just likes biting.... Sometimes he may be trying to take an actual bite. Romantic Cannibalism.

His name has become a confusing mix of a disgust and comfort. If anyone ever calls him Dairou he gets insanely mad, remembering his life in Seido in the lowest caste and all the dictatorship over his life. Yet when his partner calls him his name... its almost like a comforting blanket he's never felt being wrapped around him. He doesn't have to be Havik, Cleric of chaos and symbol of anarchy. He can let himself relax for a moment, his worries can drift away for another day. With his partner... he can just be Dairou.

Surprisingly he is a good cook. Now his method of cooking may be a bit... unorthodox. You don't really know what he's cooking with. Or how he even got it in the first place. But give him some meat, herbs and spices and a fire. He'll be able to roast up a good tasting meal.

Has issues with monogamy. Not being faithful part but more the idea of having fidelity forced onto him? He doesn't like the idea of rules or societal norms re-shackling him after he's gained his freedom. If his partner is fine with polyamory or having an open relationship, great. If his partner isn't comfortable, communicating it as a personal preference and comfort level would gain more an understanding reaction from him rather than telling him he needs too.

Man's comfortable as hell in his relationship and partner. Would never tell his partner what they can or can't do or wear cause fuck that shit. You wanna go to a club wearing a sexy ass outfit and show yourself off? He's your hype man. Go out nude, he'd support it.

Will kill a man if someone messed with his partner.

Has killed a man for messing with his partner.

Has a habit of mutilating himself at the most random of times. Almost like the habit of cracking one's knuckles he starts to feel stiff and really uncomfortable if he hasn't snapped or torn a part of his body for a while.

His partner will have to force this man to put on a shirt if they are going out in Earthrealm. He doesn't understand the social norms of Earthrealm and frankly... he doesn't give a shit to learn. He'll eventually put on a shirt if his partner insists for their own comfort

Has tried to fight police officers, many times.

Getting this man to properly bath himself is a hassle on its own. He grew up in a way where bathing was a luxury few could afford so self care isn't something he's well versed or keen on. If his partner insists that they'd join him in the bath or shower then eventually they'll be able to pull his grimy ass into the water. Once he is in the water however, good luck getting him back out.

Lil NSFW~ Any marks his partner makes on his body during night time fun will always be saved on his body. He'll never fully heal them up, scars are like a badge on honor to this man. Now he gets to walk around with more scars and scars that his partner placed on his body from how well he was fucking their brains out.

[wolvwa]

"BAKU-CHAN!"〃

Katsuki x fem!reader

Part 1/?

A bit ooc? Some angst but mostly fluff,, I think most of us need it right now

Notes; not proof read, perchance a bit self indulgent...

"Who are you?"

Those were words Katsuki Bakugou thought he would never hear. Nonetheless, from a girl hogging up the swings!

"I-I told you yesterday! Do you have short-term memory or something!?"

"That's a long name..."

"You idiot! My name is Katsuki Bakugou, and you better remember it this time! When I'm number one, you'll have no choice!" The boy whose name you had forgotten spoke with such pride and confidence it made you feel a little small. How can someone so little have such big goals?

You wanted to be a hero, too. You were always told your quirk wasn't suited for it, though. But still, you had some hope, and you'd settle for being in the top 100s! Anything at all, really. But this boy was yammering on about being at the total top.

"Kaachan!" A smaller voice interrupted your train of thought and the blonde before you groaned. "Ignore him, he's not gonna be anything!" He said confidently which made the other boy falter slightly.

"Why?" You blinked.

"Hah? Are you new here or something?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He's quirkless, that's why!" The boy huffed, taking another step towards the sandbox. "Now, move over, idiot!"

You narrow your eyes in thought, trying to recall what just happened. You weren't all that interested until he brought up heroes.

"It's okay. I'm not scared of cooties anymore cause my mama said they aren't real. We can play together, Baku-chan."

Katsuki's eye twitched as he watched you scoot over in the sandbox and look up at him expectantly.

"W-What!?"

"Cooties aren't real���"

"No! What did you call me!?" He interrupted.

"Baku-chan."

"That's not my name! Kat-su-ki Ba-ku-gou!" He exclaimed, speaking slowly as if teaching a newborn how to said their first word. Except you just stared up at him with those big eyes.

"But he called you Kaachan." You deadpanned, pointing to the greenette behind him who flinched.

"But he's a loser and doesn't matter!"

"Sorry, Baku-chan."

(҂` ﾛ ´) ... ( ՞ -՞ )

You got on Katsuki's last, first, and fifth nerve. Like Deku, you followed him around like a damn dog. Scratch that—a koala. Wherever he was, you were behind him and clinging onto his shirt.

It took you three weeks to remember his actual name.

While all the girls avoided the boys, him especially, it seemed like you were glued to him the second your eyes met.

Which is why he can't have you following that damn Deku around, too! You were his fan, after all!

"Baku-chan? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere Deku is too scared to go." Katsuki replied with a grumble, tightening his grip on your hand. Since Deku followed him around all the time, his loserness was rubbing off on you!

Translation; you and Deku were becoming friends.

Sitting on a log, Katsuki finally let go of your hand. You looked around for the first time before looking back down at him and taking a seat next to him. "Back up, would you?" Katsuki grumbled, scooting over.

Of course, you immediately scooted right back to his side. "Baku-chan," you spoke up. "How come you don't like Deku?"

The boy scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? He's a quirkless nobody!"

"Well, yeah. But you don't have to be mean about it."

"Huh? Why not!? Someone has to put him in place!"

"....someone needs to put you in your place..." you muttered, but Katsuki heard you. He felt his eye twitch.

"Haaaah!? You wanna die!? You're lucky I'm letting you be my sidekick! You know how many losers wanna be my sidekick!?" He exclaimed, sparks crackling explosions to life in his palms.

"No, I dont."

"Well, there's tons! And you're lucky, damnit!"

"Sure I am..."

( 〃 ．．) .... ヽ(`▽´)ﾉ

You were awkward. Like a wet paper bag.

That's what Katsuki says, anyway.

"Baku-chan, I don't get it still." You frown, staring down at the homework. Despite being held hostage by an villian, Katsuki was determined to say it meant nothing and Tutor you. Though, he was too distracted to teach properly—more distracted than you.

He was sure if your skull cracked open and he looked inside, there would be nothing but clouds and that sweet pudding junk you ate all the time.

By the time you had came onto the scene, Katsuki didn't know if he should be mad or relieved.

You tried dragging Deku away (which wasn't particularly hard considering you were only a bit taller than him.)

Still, the fact you ran in pissed him off. He wasn't sure why.

"Shut it, Koko."

"Koko?"

"I can't get rid of you." The boy deadpanned before groaning. "That's enough, not my fault you're dumb as a rock. Can't have my sidekick stupid, though... so come back tomorrow so you don't fail on me." Katsuki grumbled, avoiding eye contact with you. You frowned slightly before beginning to pack up your things.

"(Name)? You're leaving so early?"

Katsuki's mother, Mitsuki You met her when Katsuki hit you for calling him Baku-chan infront of the middle schoolers. She hit him way harder.

Katsuki was convinced she loved you more than him.

"Oh, yeah." You nodded. "Baku-chan," you turned to Katsuki as you stood up.

"I'm walking with Deku tomorrow."

While Mitsuki smiled at the mention of the boy and began to ramble a bit, Katsuki froze. You smiled, waving them goodbye and walked home.

The next day, Katsuki avoided you.

And the day after that, and the day after that.

Soon enough, you found yourself alone with Deku.

You weren't mean to him, but it was clear you thought he was completely delusional for wanting to be a hero.

When your mom had found out Deku lived nearby, she practically demanded that you walk with him to school. She can't have her baby traveling so far to walk with a delinquent every day when there's a sweet normal boy in the next complex!

And so she unknowingly crushed your friendship with Katsuki.

"Baku-chan."

"Baku-chan?"

"Baku-chan!"

"Baku-chaaaannn!!!"

Katsuki hasn't felt his eye twitch so much.

Every damn day of summer, you knocked on his door.

You found yourself alone more than ever.

Deku suddenly had a busy schedule, and most of your friends just teased you the whole time you hung out.

Katsuki was bitter. It's always Deku. Deku, who has everything he doesn't despite being a nobody. Katsuki couldn't understand it.

Soon enough, summer went by, and you and Katsuki were still not on talking terms. Anytime he came home to you talking with Mitsuki in the living room (she heard you shouting for him and let you in), he would walk to his room without a second glance.

"(Name)? You've been frowning a lot recently." Deku spoke up with a worried frown of his own. "Are you worried about the exams?"

"No. I'm okay, Izuku. I don't care that much about that stuff–"

Deku shut down, sputtering as he stared at you with his mouth agape. You called him Izuku.

"A-Are you sure you're okay!?"

"I just said I was. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay!" He nodded quickly.

"Baku-chan is mad at me. And im not sure why." You mumbled after some silence, staring at the waters of the beach. It's been much cleaner lately. Deku snapped out of his shock, frowning again as you spoke.

"Well... it started when you started talking to me again. A-And we became friends...–"

"Huh. I thought we were always friends?" You deadpanned, looking over to him. He frantically waved his hands around, trying to explain himself, but you subconsciously tuned him out. He paused, sweating nearvously. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you were mad at him, but in reality you were in the clouds again, trying to clear them up as the cogs started turning.

.

.

.

"I dont get it."

And that was all you said for the rest of the night.

You never called him Izuku after that.

(｡ ˊᯅˋ ) ... (҂` - ´)

You ended up the general studies. Not surprising, but at least you were smart enough to get in.

You had a heart attack every time Deku texted you about a villain attack. Naturally, the two of you grew close. That only fueled Katsuki's hatred for the freckled boy.

Katsuki couldn't stand it at first—being able to walk into school. Without you. It felt weird. He'd look behind his back to look for that little tug of yours, but there was nothing there. He thought about replying to your texts, your bugging, your loud ass yelling. He'd probably just yell and slam the door anyway.

It felt like it had been forever since he'd seen you.

So, during a break in the sports festival, seeing you assaulting a vending machine wasn't exactly what he was expecting. Mumbling curses as you grabbed the machine by its sides, shutting your eyes and shaking it roughly. You were trying to get that sweet ass pudding junk.

Before he thought about it, he approached and shoved you to the side. You blinked, looking over to him as he set off a few explosions and grabbed the small cup of pudding. There was a long silence as he shoved the cup in front of your chest.

.

.

.

"...who are you?"

You cheeky bastard.

Katsuki felt that familiar irritation bubble up. He knew you were just messing with him... atleast he hoped so.

"Take your sugary shit. Maybe if you cut down on this junk, you could have made it into the hero course. I knew you were below me, but this is just sad." He scoffed.

You didn't argue, taking the cup with a smile. "Okay."

"Okay? Is that how you thank people?"

"No. Just you—you ignored me so I'm not thankful." ((.❛ ᴗ ❛.))

Katsuki's eye twitched again as he clenched his fist. "Well im not ignoring you now, am I!?"

"Well... not now."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)—iconic actress with purple eyes and a double row of eyelashes, the real ebony dementia ravenway of old hollywood. known for her stunning tastes when it comes to jewelry and her incredible, incredible advocacy during the AIDS crisis.

Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)— "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasn’t glamour—she was just too sensible for that—it was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldn’t be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that she’d dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lips—'Setsuko’s eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that she’d died—I thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Elizabeth Taylor:

I've been trying to steer clear of the absurdly-big names, but damnit, those violet eyes got me. The *talent*, the *presence*, the string of marriages and (temporally out-of-bounds) work in combating AIDS and pioneering in the concept of the celebrity fragrance line.

Not only did she have gorgeous violet eyes and lashes for days and one of the hottest voices ever, she was also a big supporter of the gay community

Child actress turned starlet, Liz dominated films as one of the greatest screen legends of classic hollywood. If your protagonist has violet eyes, they're imitating hers.

A Legend. She was serving milf rage in Whos Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. A Star in every sense of the word.

She was renowned for the beauty of her eyes; they were a dark blue but could look violet in certain lighting, something that photographers would actually touch up to look even more so in pictures. But even more striking was a genetic mutation that gave her a double row of eyelashes. She was also famed for her string of husbands -- 8 marriages to 7 men. Two-time hubby Richard Burton once said she was “a wildly exciting love-mistress… beautiful beyond the dreams of pornography.”

Her EYES. Early and loud support for gay rights and AIDS victims. Married a bunch of hot dudes, Burton twice!

just look at her. she's gorgeous. there's a video somewhere of her applying her eyeliner in the mirror and I think about it all the time

THE Hollywood actress of all time. Not only was she known for her long dark locks and blue-violet eyes, she also had one of the wildest life stories ever….. She’s Carrie Fisher’s stepmother because her father Eddie Fisher cheated on Debbie Reynolds with Liz. She was knighted as a dame of England. She was married to seven different men, one of them twice. She was also very kindhearted and did a lot of charity activism.

Asides from being an iconic actor, she did a lot of philanthropy and co founded the American Foundation for AIDS research. She’s sometimes considered one of the last great stars of old hollywood

Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shūsaku Endō wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"

One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!

Linked gifset

Linked gifset 2

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920–2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays – frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile

Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

[zimthandmade]

In your au do the kids get to have visits from their parents? I am kind of imagining days where all the parents are allowed to come like in some special weekends or something, even though that would kind of ruin all the fuss about being anonymous and protecting the kids’s identities.

I was thinking about it because I realised how uncommon your idea of an hypothetical family for Near was, I think it might be the first time I see anyone imagining them as normal affectionate people.

Then I thought about Mello’s reaction in finding out that in fact Near does not come from a breed of vampires and has a very normal family and a life outside of being an involuntary pain in his ass.

I don’t know, I thought it might be a funny idea.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Sorry that last bit is too funny not to draw haha

They do get visits from their parents! Some parents visit every other weekend, some parents barely ever show up (poor Matt :( ) and I’m sure there’s some special occasions where all the families are invited to come visit. Like an open day. The thing with aliases is really hard to explain this way but I imagine the kids themselves make it a game to keep their names hidden and consider it kind of losing the game once the name gets out. So parents visits are always a way for the other kids to listen up if they hear the name being used by a family member. It’s usually just a matter of time until the name gets out but there are some kids considered legendary in this game.

Near is one them. I can see his family absolutely getting this game. Near just told them ONCE “I am “Near” in this institution. Please refrain from calling me any other name. The other kids mustn’t know. It’s a game we play.” and his family collectively being like “Got it, Near.” And they all ace it.

Matt has the “””advantage””” of his only family member rarely ever showing up. And whenever Chris does show up, he never calls Matt by his real name but uses everything from little bugger, mate, lad, sport, champ, big guy, sonny, pal, chief, tiger to buddy … Matt turning around flipping all the kids who lurk around the corner to get his name off while he walks away with his dad haha

Mello is scared of every visit and boy does his mum visit often. He musn’t lose the game under any circumstance but his mum is completely oblivious of the stakes, she doesn’t give a single damn or straight up forgets OR even says the name wrong (Mellie, Malon, Molo, …), no matter how many times he tells her it’s MELLO, GOD DAMNIT. It’s a blessing in disguise, Ivanka uses croatian nicknames for him a lot (sine, zlato, srce, mali, mili, beban, …). Beban is the one she uses most (baby boy), and all the slavic kids holler when they hear the troublemaker being called babyboy.

----- My other socials Commission Info Let’s drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[alchemistc]

keep on dancing | bucktommy 1/1

"We actually met before, you know," Tommy says, casual as anything. "Uh, I think I would remember," Josh says, not quite able to help the way his eyes drop and scan up. "A couple times, actually." Josh is being pranked. "Pull the other one," he intones, already feeling the awkwardness start to lift away, which shouldn't be possible, but there's something about this Tommy guy, the way he carries himself, the way his expressions bring you in on the conversation. --- Josh has his memory jogged at a little gathering Tommy throws for Maddie and Chimney's six month anniversary.

read on ao3

"Josh, hey!"

Josh spins from the table with half an eggroll still stuffed in his mouth, and immediately wishes a sinkhole would open up beneath him. Just - just beneath him, though, he doesn't want to get stuck down there with Maddie's earnest as all get out brother and the man he's presenting to Josh like a prize-winning bull stud.

And.

He's still got an unchewed lumpia in his damn mouth.

Josh chews like his life depends on it, feeling mortified as The Boyfriend grins. They've technically met, although Josh doubts he remembers. Josh had still been stuffing his face with cake (a theme, apparently) and The Boyfriend (Tommy, he knows his name is Tommy, he's got to stop being so weird about the absolute hunk of a man Buck bagged by being a bumbling idiot) had been a little too invested in staring at Evan Buckley like the sun shone out his ass.

Fair assessment, really. If any of them had known Buck was bi, Josh might have shot his shot, at one point. They'd have been terrible together, but they are all intimately aware of how thoroughly Evan Buckley kisses, now.

"Josh, you remember Tommy?"

Tommy seems to clock that Josh is still chewing, damnit. And of course, of course, Evan Buckley hasn't just managed to bag the Greek-godliest, calendar centerpieceist hunk of a man in LA, he's also apparently found someone completely willing to not just ignore social faux-pas, but cover for them too. He tilts his gaze away from Josh, does something with his eyes that Josh would categorize as a flitter, if he wasn't built like a tank, and slides a hand up along Buck's back. Josh watches the big wide hand curl over the back of Buck's shoulder and seriously considers whether it would be blasphemous to pray for one of his own.

"You introduced us at the hospital," Tommy says, and Buck beams, like he's pleased Tommy remembers. Christ. The way they've been orbiting each other all evening, Josh is pretty sure Tommy never forgets anything he does with Buck.

He doesn't catch the weird phrasing until after he's swallowed, cleared his throat, and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you again," he says, and absolutely does not curse the gods when Tommy's grip is firm and crisp and gentle without being condescending.

Josh is happy for Buck, he really, genuinely is. He'd just be happier if he had his own.

"We actually met before, you know," Tommy says, casual as anything.

"Uh, I think I would remember," Josh says, not quite able to help the way his eyes drop and scan up.

"A couple times, actually."

Josh is being pranked. "Pull the other one," he intones, already feeling the awkwardness start to lift away, which shouldn't be possible, but there's something about this Tommy guy, the way he carries himself, the way his expressions bring you in on the conversation.

"You helped me through a rough call, my first week in the air," Tommy says, fingers still squeezing at Buck's left shoulder, posture open and inviting, and Josh tries to pull the voice out of his memory. It's -- distinctive, really, low register but slightly nasally, a high up-down to the cadence that Josh would have clocked in a heartbeat. Patterns of speech is a terrible way to generalize, but he's got a pretty good success rate, when he can put a living breathing face to the voice.

He doesn't take many air support calls, and really that's what does it. "The fire whirl in the Thomas Fire," Josh says, and Tommy nods, smile lines deep around his eyes. "They'd just named it, and you felt like it was a little on the nose."

Buck's eyes brighten, like he can't help but be charmed by the story.

"He saved my ass," Tommy says, bumping his shoulder against Buck's, and Buck beams, blinks, grins at Josh. "And then when I invited him for drinks with the Harbor boys he beat me at pool and bounced before I could ask him out to dinner."

"That -- that did not happen."

Tommy's head tilts, brows dancing up his forehead, expression gently insulted.

Josh desperately reaches for the memory. A vague outline of it, even. The voice, a little concerned, a lot matter-of-fact as he informed Josh that they'd hovered too low over the fire, and if Josh could please send out a radio call to anyone on the ground in the area to clear out before the bird crashed to the earth and exploded, because his radio was out. Josh, who'd talked to enough air support to have a basic idea of what mechanics were causing the issue, reminding the voice of the maneuver he could use to steer out of it.

Josh, bright red and stifling his bashful giggles when the voice informed him he was good in a crisis and he should come down to The Rose so that Tommy and his team could buy Josh a drink.

Josh squints. Oh, he'd taken one look at Firefighter Kinard and chalked that up to wishful thinking, ordered an Uber before he'd sunk his first solid, and dipped before he could convince himself the gentle teasing was anything more than a man grateful he'd had someone in his ear reminding him he was a competent pilot with years of experience under his belt.

Josh blinks. "You were hitting on me."

Tommy runs his tongue over his teeth. "Unsuccessfully, yeah. The boys gave me shit for a month about it."

Buck has clearly already heard this story. He's staring at Josh like he wants to tease him, is reining it in by the skin of his teeth. There's nothing smug about it, which Josh is grateful for merely on the basis that he's seen the way these two look at each other and he's no competition for Tommy's attention at all, anymore.

"Well that's mortifying," he admits, and Tommy laughs, head tipped back, smile lines etched deep into his skin. Buck's face does something deeply endearing, and Josh has to look away, for a moment.

Tommy tips forward again. "It was character building. First attempt I made with witnesses, taught me I had to be a little less subtle." He shoots a significant look at Buck, who dips his chin towards his chest. God, Josh wants that. He'd been pretty sure he had it, for a hot second. His gaze is annoyingly wistful when Tommy turns back to him and catches it. "Can I grab you a beer?"

And Josh had kind of forgotten who was hosting this little shindig -- Maddie'd made noise about how sweet it was for Tommy to float the idea of a little celebration for their nuptials, when he heard the Buckley parents were coming back into town, and Chimney had just grumbled that Tommy was looking for excuses to get Buck on a dance floor, but he'd been pleased about it too, under the sarcasm. Josh can't quite hide the face he makes, though. He's not a snob about his alcohol, but all he's seen floating around here are Corona's and Bud Light. Buck shifts his weight, sways his hip into Tommy's.

"We could crack open those weird cheesecake sours you got last week," he suggests, and Tommy tilts his head, squints his eyes.

"They're not weird, you just have the palette of a frat boy."

"Well, Josh definitely has more refined taste than me, the flavor won't be lost on him."

Tommy grins at Josh. "Clearly that wasn't always the case," he shoots off, even as he's slipping his hand from Buck's shoulder, shifting to the side, backing away with a smarmy little grin on his face, and Josh throws his hands up in the air, sends the parting shot before he gets far enough across the yard that Josh has to yell.

"You can't try it out if you don't know it's on the menu!"

Buck and Josh both watch Tommy saunter away. Lord, Josh hopes Buck is taking full advantage of those glutes.

"Congratulations, again," Josh says, letting some of the put-upon ire drop out of his voice. "I know I've said this already, but -- I really am happy for you."

He's really only heard bits and pieces of Buck's absolutely ridiculous jump from solid, unflinching ally to bumbling crush on a beautiful man, but just like every other person on planet earth who discovers a facet of themselves that isn't considered normal by the world at large, he knows there are bumps in the road. Moments where you question yourself, and your place within the confines of society. Buck could have called it a wash, after acting a fool, but clearly he'd found something in himself he felt was worth pursuing.

Buck smiles, and not for the first time since he'd stumbled into Howie's hospital room, face covered in soot and Tommy's hand clenched in his like a life-line, Josh can tell there's something settled in him that hadn't been before. He knows the feeling well.

"I'm not sharing," Buck tells him, tongue in cheek as he smacks a meaty hand to Josh's shoulder, and Josh is too busy pretending not to struggle under the solid weight to think of something clever to say back.

-----

"You weren't kidding," Josh says to Chimney, as he openly stares at the couple dancing across the yard. Everyone else has been attempting at subtlety, but at Josh's words at least three people guiltily dart their gazes away from Buck and Tommy swaying together under a string of fairy lights.

"I should be out there dancing with my beautiful bride," Chimney says, and Maddie holds out a hand, a challenge in her eyes.

Sometimes Josh wishes he was less of a romantic, so he could at least pretend to find the way Chim's eyes sparkle a little exhausting.

Bobby is already spinning Athena into the circle of his arms as the quiet, steady thrum of an acoustic guitar floats across the little makeshift dance floor in the orange light of the yard. When Athena says something to Buck and Tommy, tucked together and speaking in soft voices two songs ago now, Bobby grins, and Buck ducks his head bashfully into the solidness of Tommy's shoulder. Whatever Tommy says back has Bobby pressing a laughing kiss to his wife's forehead as he guides them just far enough away to give Buck and Tommy some distance.

He finds Eddie Diaz moping on one of the patio chairs under little built-in pergola that makes Josh more than a little jealous of Buck's stumble into possibly the perfect man.

Hen and Karen have joined the dancing, too.

Eddie eyes him for a moment when Josh settles into the adirondack to his left. "You tired of the love-fest, too?" he asks, and Josh shakes his head, settling his chin on his hand to watch the annoyingly hopeful scene.

"Just -- taking it all in."

Eddie harrumphs, but out of the corner of his eye Josh can see him watching, too.

Maddie barks our delighted laughter when Tommy cuts in to spin her out of Chimney's arms, and Chim and Buck take that as their cue to conduct a frankly ridiculous waltz between the rest of the group.

Josh sighs like the damn romantic fool he is, and Eddie shifts on his right.

"You wanna...?" Josh tilts his head, and Eddie's face morphs into a shrug of an expression.

"I'm good here," Josh tells him, and Eddie purses his lips. "But you should join them."

Eddie rolls his tongue against his cheek, takes a sip of his beer, rolls his neck and darts his gaze across to the rest of his rag tag family. He nods, shifts his weight, rolls his hands down his thighs to find leverage against his knees to stand. "Find me for the Electric Slide. Tommy's a nightmare about line dances."

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Knightmare In Toronto

Chapter 2: Portal Paradox

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There was a distinct pain in your head when you rose from your slumber, laid on the couch like a drunkard. A blanket had been draped over your prone form, though you chalked it up to an unusually proactive action you'd taken before your nap. Your perfectly normal, fever-dream nap starring medieval men without food allergies who broke into houses.

That is, until you saw one of those men–a new one with dirty blonde hair, a dark green tunic with tan pants, and... were those face tattoos–sitting in your armchair and your fears were realized: today (at least, you think it's still today) was real and there were more strangers in your house.

Ignoring the pang of discomfort in your neck, you shot up, ready to square up to this new threat. "Who are you?"

"Oh! You're awake," the man smiled, which was incredibly weird for a home intruder. "I'm Twilight."

Twilight… why was that familiar? It almost sounded like a gang name, but you highly doubted the aforementioned situation was even remotely affiliated with gangs—though the odds that he had been watching you sleep were a bit close for comfort.

At your lack of response, Twilight's expression shifted to one of concern. "You alright–?"

"I don't want drugs!" You blurted.

"I repeat, we don't have drugs," Four's head popped in from the kitchen, expression a perfect deadpan.

"Only people on drugs talk about portals!" You shot back as black spots danced in the corners of your vision. "Ain't no portals in Toronto!"

"Toronto?" Twilight looked puzzled in the shrill wake of your outburst. What was this guy, a saint?

"Canada," you finished. He stared at you with a baffled expression and you deadpanned. "How do you not know where that is?"

"Because we are not from your world," another, deeper verse answered. You watched in disbelief as yet another man stepped out of your minuscule kitchen. He was tall, wearing a long silver tunic and black pants. Two crimson stripes lay perpendicular beneath his right eye, and there was another blue marking on his forehead.

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"Drugs."

"That's not–" Four sighed, running a hand down his face like a tired dad. "You need sleep."

"You need Jesus."

"Excuse me?" Asked the tallest man, and you wisely shut up.

Twilight, who had been silently observing the exchange, piped up. "About that, sorry for falling on you."

You blinked. So that's why your head hurt like you chugged some bourbon and fought a moose for territory. "Oh, naw, it's fine, you should see what I deal with at work."

"When you say it like that, I don't think I want to."

Your laugh surprised even you, bubbling up your throat like soda. "Smart."

The newcomer cleared his throat, bringing silence back to the room. "Miss..." he looked to Four, who mouthed something suspiciously close to your name. "(Y/n), I know this may seem impossible to you, but this situation is very much real. I can assure you that no one here is under the influence of… substances."

Damnit, you were hoping you could make that joke a few more times. "Okay, well, he," you pointed at Four. "materialized in my living room and that man," you pointed even more aggressively at Twilight, who had the decency to look sheepish. "apparently fell on me. Speaking of, how are you here?"

"The door was unlocked," the tall man said, and you nearly fell over. "About your garden..."

Your expression turned to one of terror. "Not my petunias..."

"I'm afraid you'll have to direct me in finding replacements as none of us are familiar with this world."

Wait.

"Us...?" You parroted, trying and failing to hide your apprehension.

"About that–" Four began, only to be interrupted when yet another crash rang out in your kitchen, followed by a series of loud whoops, and your greatest fear was once again realized: there were more of them.

"Just how many more of there are you?" You asked in horror.

"Currently five, as we are waiting on Legend, Warriors, Sky, and Hyrule."

Oh god, was your first thought, followed by: who the hell names their children that?

"We got Wild!" Wind introduced. "Five down, four to go!"

You could handle this. You would handle this. Like an adult.

"So... you're not from this world?" You asked the tallest of the three, which seemed to be the leader of the current group.

He nodded sagely "Yes, we are from a land called Hyrule."

...Hyrule? Why was that familiar? It certainly wasn’t a place you knew of, but you didn’t think they were lying.

"You seem conflicted," Four observed dryly.

"Quiet, I'm having my midlife crisis," you said, despite the fact that you were nowhere near your fifties. "You try having medieval men poof into your living room like it's a regular Tuesday."

"Gee, that's oddly specific."

Your eye twitched.

"Four," said the tallest man, effectively regaining control of the situation. "Our apologies for causing you strife, but this situation is quite unique."

"No kidding," you muttered, but being upset wasn't going to solve anything. "Okay, what's your plan then?"

The tallest seemed to hesitate, so Twilight took over. "We were hopin' we could wait here until everyone passes through. For safety."

You couldn’t argue with that; they were a long way from home if your suspicions were correct. "Alright, I can do that."

"Much appreciated," he looked like he wanted to say more, but purposefully chose not to.

You would have said more, but Wind chose that exact moment to appear with yet another man in tow. He was lanky and tall, with yellow hair that reached his midback. His tunic was also blue, though considerably shorter than Wind's, and he had various belts criss-crossing his chest. His most defining feature, however, was the large pink scar marring his left cheek and ear. You tried not to look too hard.

"This is Wild," Wind introduced. "Wild, this is (Y/N)."

'Wild' nodded politely. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," you responded, feeling a bit sheepish. You glanced at the clock and realized it was now past five. "Geez, I really slept in, huh?"

"It was for the best," Twilight offered a wry smile. "Better get so"

You waved him off. "You're fine, I'm alive."

"That is good."

"Wait, what's happening?" Wild cut in with a confused expression. "Where is everyone?"

"They haven't appeared yet," Four responded, though his voice was slightly uncertain. He gestured to you. "They've agreed to let us stay until everyone comes through."

"That's so kind," Wind exclaimed. "I knew you were nice."

You couldn't hold back a soft scoff. "I wouldn't be so trusting, l could be an axe murderer."

"Are you an axe murderer?" asked Four.

"Naw, I prefer maces."

"Well, I'M a pirate," interjected Wind, laying a hand on his chest.

"Oo, shiver me timbers," you said on instinct. Wind laughed raucously, and you caught a few others chuckling along. Maybe this wasn't as bad as your reptile brain had made it out to be...

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out for inspection, missing the curious glances from the other occupants of the room. In the time it had taken to come to terms with this insanity, you'd managed to miss six messages from your bestie, Brianna, who had invited you to an after-work party a few weeks from now. After typing a quick response, you shoved your phone away and stood up. "So, who's hungry?"

This chapter fought me tooth and nail, so I’m glad it’s finally out there for you all! Enjoy and don’t forget to tell me what you think in the comments!

[rodolfoparras]

Sorry other anon but logan woukd NOT share

Jean and scott? Sure! But reader??? Helllllll no only HE gets to see readers cock

Speaking of.... (cw for wolverines masochism and sexual burning and crazy jealousy and mean reader im gonna yap)

Imagine reader with good dick... like better than Logan's ever felt; size doesnt matter (even if you're big) because somehow you can fuck him perfectly and know what he wants before he even asks.

Overstimulation is tricky because his regeneration gives him insane stamina, so you dont do things over and over but all at once. Vibe ring on his cock, fingering him without lube (the burn is something he can ground himself on) and aiming right for his prostate, and simultaneously digging your other hand's nails on his thigh or chest.

He'd never been taken apart so thoroughly, and he loved whining out your name, telling you he was your boy, being your placid fucktoy before he came all over the sheets.

So imagine how he felt when you suggested letting someone else in to join. He'd feel like shit if he turned it down without trying after you'd explored all the weird kinks he'd found he'd liked after 200 years, so he swallowed the bile in his throat and agreed.

The new guy was... pretty, to say the least. It's like he was everything Logan wasn't. Scrawny, young, and spry. He remembered meeting him before, probably an acquaintance of yours. The thought bothered him that the new guy would see you undressed, but Logan found comfort assuming that you'd probably let the new guy watch first and then he'd take whatever Logan wasn't using.

Logan felt his eye twitch as he heard the new guy request to ride. No. That was Logan's spot, damnit, and he wouldn't let some random kid take away from what he wanted. He bit his tongue, drew blood and swallowed, then retracted and sheathed his claws so the pain would yet again ground him. He watched in discontent as you slid your expert fingers in and out of the other guy's asshole, and once the guy moaned out your name the way only Logan should be able to, he snapped.

Logan ripped the guy off of you and tossed him to the ground, throwing the clothes down beside him.

"I'm not getting cucked. Not now, not ever. Nobody else is gonna see your cock but me," he growled, enunciating by grinding down on you. Suffice to say, you were pissed. The guy was bleeding, Logan's claws nicked him on the way down, all because Logan didn't speak up until you were prepping.

You scoffed and tossed Logan off, showing the poor kid to the door and turning back to Logan.

"Unacceptable shit. You should have said no in the first place, or said no when he asked to ride, or said no when I asked if you wanted it," you snapped. Logan felt his anger fade to guilt—you were right, yeah. Many opportunities to quit.

You lit a cigarette and puffed angrily, ignoring the sad puppy dog eyes he sported. You slumped on the couch and once Logan sat beside you, you finally noticed what he was asking. His wrist was outstretched to you, inviting a burn that he'd almost expected never to come. You chewed on your cheek. He was apologizing.

"Open," you finally said. Logan hurried, opening his mouth eagerly to accept the 'punishment' (it wasn't really, since nothing got him hornier than you being mean) and a moan left his throat when you pulled on his tongue to stretch it out.

Right in the middle, you stamped your quarter-smoked cigarette out on his tongue and followed it with spitting right into his mouth to hear the sizzle of the burning flesh. It healed quickly, so you lit your lighter and heated up the metal around the flame, then pressed it into his wrist, searing the flesh. He brought his blistering wrist to your lips in an invite to lick it, which you obliged before his body could fix the wound.

Logan laughed giddily. Nobody else could see this. Nobody else could feel this. Nobody but him.

-wolverine pussyfucker (the one who brought up jealous logan)

AND WHY DO YOU GUYS LEAVE MASTERPIECES LIKE RHESE IN MY INBOC WHERE IS THE FULL FIC WHY ARENT YOU POSTING THIS THIS IS ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL SUGAR BEE THE AMOUNT OF TIME I REREAD THIS IS EMBARRASSING

I absolutely love a jealous Logan idc if it’s canon or not something about that grumpy bastard being incredibly possessive on the inside makes my cock hard especially him realizing it in the middle of a threesome? Oh Jesus Christ want to comfort and punish him at the same time head spinning need to lay down🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️

[the-californicationist]

he hunts you down

Captain John Price is recruiting for the 141, and when he takes you on a field exercise to the middle of the woods, you try to show him that you have what it takes to survive.

This is Part 1 of 2. If y’all are interested in a Part 2, it’s here. Or, you can read it in full on AO3.

MDNI/18+

TW: primal play, dubcon, abuse of power

AO3 Link

The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.

Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.

When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.

You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.

One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.

You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.

Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.

It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.

You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.

Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.

Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.

Price.

He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.

“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.

You heard a dark chuckle in return,

“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”

He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.

“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.

“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.

“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.

You gasped, involuntarily.

“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”

“Captain, we can’t…we - ”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.

You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.

“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”

He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.

“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.

It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.

“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,

“Okay.”

A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”

[ronearoundblindly]

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle. 

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties.  For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor 

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank  canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out. 

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.