#however they lost all memory of that language upon arrival and could only speak and understand their very limited knowledge of other

[blown-to-kingdom-come]

girl i spent like an hour brainstorming a qsmp oc

[alexracheltravel]

Interlude: Cambodia → Thailand

Cambodia’s airport is bright, and the walls bear the Indochina style and form. Outside, the airport runway, and beyond, rows upon rows of jungle. Siem Reap is a small city. By New York standards, it is not much of a city at all. It more closely resembles the tourist-laded springs of the Caribbean, where every resident speaks multiple languages, and holds multiple currencies. In some ways, it is representative of Khmer culture, but in other ways, it is a space for Westerners (or Australians) to embrace just a touch of history that they had never seen before. While this is a space for tourists, it is far from a “trap.” We leave Cambodia feeling better than when we entered. These temples carry a significant spiritual meaning, and although we do not practice Hindu nor Buddhist rituals, we understand the models of the cleansing of the spirit, the connections between heaven and earth, mind and soul. This comes from engaging with people who are passionate about their craft, their culture, their love of the world, and Angkor Wat, the carvings pictures, and stonework, is proof that art, in all its forms, is an expression of believing in one’s purpose and significance in the world.

Cambodia began on a rather empty street in Siem Reap. We had heard that COVID decimated tourism, however, we did not realize how empty it actually was. The only signs of life came from “Pub Street,” a western-style row of bars that better resembled New Orleans than anywhere in Cambodia. Khmer food was not wholly familiar to us; we did not expect the earthier flavors in Thai forms. 

Our expectations of the temples of Angkor were high, and we were still blown away by the magnitude of the work, and the divine history involved. Angkor Wat was massive, beautiful, and awesome, in the way that it inspires awe. And that was only one temple out of the many we saw in one day. Our guide, Nak, who we will name forever and ever, was so good. It was clear that he loved his culture, and wanted to share that with us. 

Khmer food tastes like Thai, and there was an array of different restaurants—cheap and pricy—around town. One of the most expensive restaurants only cost $10 per dish. At first we were the only people in the restaurant, and the slew of wait staff huddled around us. But more customers came, and we felt less like the country depended on us, and instead, tourism was returning.

Phnom Kulen (Phnom either means mountain or forest, we can’t remember at the time of writing) had more people. It was our chance to see what nature had to do with Cambodian culture. While it was not crowded, we could tell that tourism had arrived in Siem Reap.

That night, Alex went out to a night market, where felt like he had done some "Anthony Bourdain Cosplay." He was one of the only westerners around in a fairly busy street of nightlife.

Siem Reap is a pilgrimage to locals and believers in the Hindu and Buddhist faith. It is a sacred place. In some ways, it reminded us of Jerusalem. Over these few days, we noticed how the Cambodians' struggle resonates with that of the Jews. Both cultures celebrate a long lost history, keeping the memory and tradition alive. Cambodians, too, have endured a genocide, one possibly greater than the Holocaust. Cambodia is a small country, and beneath the Khmer Rouge, lost over two million people, most were educators, thinkers, doctors, and more. But unlike the Jews, who had America and the UK to help them after the war, and to help establish Israel, the Khmer have had far less assistance from China, the UN or other major groups. Their struggle is still ongoing, and their recovery is slow. Climate change makes their country even more vulnerable. Actions can be made to help Cambodia. Money. Tourism. Eliminating racism. This is not a "your dollar matters" speech, but rather a statement on the importance of honoring a culture before it is lost forever.

In that spirit, we'll remember a lot of amazing parts on this leg of the honeymoon:

Food

Alex

1) Lok Lak - Sambo (pepper sauce is amazing!)

2) Chicken Curry - Tour Lunch Spot Day One

3) Fried crickets - Night Market

4) Beef Stir Fry with Red Ants - Changkhran Khmer

5) TIE: Rice Waffle and Khanom Bueang - Reclining Buddha Temple

Rachel

1) Chicken Curry - Tour Lunch Spot Day One

2) Khanom bueang - Reclining Buddha Temple

3) Amok - Sambo

4) Curry - Changkhran Khmer

5) Eggs, Toast, Fruit - Baby Elephant Hotel (daily passionfruit)

Sights/Experiences

Alex

1) Angkor Wat - specifically bas-reliefs

2) Bayon

3) Banteay Srei

4) Ta Prohm

5) Night Market

Rachel

1) Banteay Srei Temple

2) Angkor Wat

3) Phnom Kulen Waterfall

4) Bayon Temple

5) Hot Air Balloon over Angkor

Key Memory You Will Take With You

Alex - Traversing the grounds of Angkor Wat. It was one thing to see the temple from a distance; that’s like looking at a photograph. As we approached, and the temple became larger, it became more real, and I suddenly realized the age and scope and the existence of this temple.

Rachel - Being at the top of Angkor Wat, and looking down at the rest of the grounds. Being awestruck by its sheer magnitude, and the incredible restoration that is still being done.

Alex: I think we had a very similar key moment we would take with us. These temples are quite important, and unmatched compared to the rest of the world. How does it compare to other historical sites you’ve visited: mayan temples, Great Wall, etc.?

Rachel: I feel like the religious significance of Angkor Wat is much more dominant of a theme than most of the other ancient temples that I’ve seen. Of course, they’re all temples, but the depictions of Hindu gods and Buddhas alike I just found really impactful.

Alex: One difference that I think is part of the reason you and I find this striking is how massive the Khmer Empire was here, compared to the Mayans. Hundreds of thousands of more people lived here than in Guatemala or obviously, Belize, which we visited. Belize was just a few tiny pyramids. Even the smallest temple that we visited was the same size. And there’s like 50 of them, most bigger. I also like Hindu myths as well. I’m not super familiar but I knew some of the stories. How about you?

Rachel: I feel similarly. 

Alex: Like you knew who Ganesha was and who Buddha was?

Rachel: Yes, of course. But I think that the history about the gods and the mythology that surrounds them felt mostly new to me. I really appreciate how detailed our tour guide, Nak, was.

Alex: Yes, I did send his info over to Benny and Julia, and maybe they will get the same experience. I think Julia especially will love it! He was so thrilled at the idea of telling these stories. As a storyteller, lecturer, teacher, I really appreciated the way that education is involved in these cultural heritage sites. We’re talking a lot about the temples, because we didn’t really do much else here. This was a trip where the sites were actually the stars. Not the food, not the nature, but the history.

Rachel: But let’s not forget about that natural park. From the views to the waterfall, it really was incredibly beautiful.

Alex: I almost feel sad to leave Cambodia, but to be honest, there’s not much else for it to offer us. The culture is rich, as is every culture, but the poverty is challenging, and there’s not a lot to do without many risks.

Rachel: It’s certainly a bittersweet ending, but to be honest, I’m ready to move on to Thailand.

Alex: I suppose you’re right.

Rachel: I don’t mean to knock Cambodia, but Thailand will be more our speed. I loved the temples but it’s time to move ahead.

Alex: Long story short, everyone should visit Cambodia to see these temples. Funnel money into their economy, and help these people prosper.

Rachel: That’s very “Naga” of you, my love.

Alex: For those reading, google “Naga Hindu” and you’ll know what we mean.

[duskamethyst]

mistakes.

a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.

word count: 6.1k

genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint

warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader

pairing: toji x f!reader

languages available: vietnamese.

summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.

one.

heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.

drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you. 

college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.

however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.

“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow. 

“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.

“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”

“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little. 

but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.

“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place. 

two.

“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.

“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet. 

“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices. 

“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”

he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.

“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug. 

“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.

“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.

“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste. 

you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”

three.

“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it. 

you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of.  there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile. 

but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.

“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.

“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.

“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”

you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.” 

“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.

you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.” 

“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.” 

“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly. 

toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it. 

“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts. 

“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.

“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.

“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”

he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.

“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.

you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious? 

“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.

“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.

“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved. 

it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”

“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.” 

“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving. 

has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”

a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”

the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.

“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer. 

“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.

 as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.” 

the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.

“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you. 

the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm. 

well, so much for luck.

“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.” 

“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.

“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”

regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.” 

toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later. 

“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”

you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest. 

“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.

“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.

“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside. 

oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing. 

“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.

“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”

toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”

he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.

your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.

“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations. 

“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.

“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?” 

“n-no.” you choke and fidget.

“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”

you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”

“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.

“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?

your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below. 

your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop– your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more. 

with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt. 

“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.

toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.

“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears. 

“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed. 

“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now. 

your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release. 

“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.

toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean. 

“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours. 

four.

out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.

“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.

“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.” 

“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.

toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey. 

“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.” 

“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip. 

“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order. 

“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”

and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.

“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down. 

“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it. 

“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists. 

“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”

the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.

“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?” 

toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.

and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him. 

you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.

“good. open your mouth.”

your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead. 

it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.

“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested. 

“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?” 

“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper. 

“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss. 

obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you. 

toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts. 

large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit. 

he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.

“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.

“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.

toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him. 

he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.

“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through. 

it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”

“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy. 

“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.

“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.

toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy. 

your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”

but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock. 

“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold. 

“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance. 

“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission. 

but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.

“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.

“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.

“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off. 

you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.

soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.

“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.

you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast. 

“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?” 

through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body. 

a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously. 

“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice. 

“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock. 

“hah– fuck. good girl.” 

toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you. 

and daddy knows best, after all.

“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.

you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated. 

“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.

but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.

“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.

“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.” 

toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.

“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied. 

“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.

“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip. 

“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”

fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.

toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.

“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”

you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs. 

how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more? 

you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.

what’s done is done.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

[i-lionheart]

Memories | Kylo Ren x Reader

You are Kylo Ren's apprentice and second in command, ruling the galaxy and the First Order at his side. When Kylo notices you acting strange, he calls you to the throne room to investigate.

Before you read: 1.4K words, sfw, fluff, feelsy fluff, hurt/comfort but like... emotional hurt rather than physical, i guess it's technically fem!reader but its only mentioned once (when Kylo calls her "good girl") so make of that what you will

You were surprised to see a message from Kylo Ren when you checked your wristpad. He usually only messaged you when he needed something and couldn't leave the Finalizer's bridge to speak with you face-to-face. Though you had been busy finishing up some work on your ship, he had retired to his quarters almost an hour ago for the evening meal. You opened the message.

Are you still working?

You typed a response.

No. Just finished. Why?

His answer was almost immediate.

Throne room. Now.

On my way.

You typed your final message and swiped the screen of your wristpad, which obediently went black. As you made your way from the docking bay to the throne room, you wondered what he needed so urgently right now. The fleet had spent the day at a supply outpost, gearing up in preparation for your next battle. You had just finished a successful mission and debriefed with Kylo when you had returned around midday, hours ago now. As far as you knew, the First Order was running smoothly, like the well-oiled machine you knew it to be. If something had happened, you would have heard about it.

What could he possibly want that was so urgent?

You arrived at the throne room and scanned your wristpad at the door terminal, as you had a thousand times. The door slid open with a whoosh. You stepped inside, continuing through the corridor that greeted you until it widened into the vast throne room.

The room had once belonged to Snoke, but much had changed since then. Now, walls marked the perimeter of what had once been a half - suspended platform, their previous blood red color replaced with a sleek jet black. Though unseen lights created a dim glow throughout most of the space, a spotlight cast the raised dais in the center of the room - and the figure on the dais's throne- into sharp relief.

Kylo Ren lounged lazily in the throne, legs spread, elbow resting on a thigh, head resting on his hand. He wore only the comfortable boots and simple, breathable long-sleeved shirt and pants that he preferred to his usual robes once he had retired for the day.

As you stepped forward into the room, his eyes settled upon you, taking in your appearance. He regarded you for a moment, and then spoke.

"What's bothering you?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him quizzically. "Can't you just read my mind and find out?"

"You're blocking me."

"Again?" you said, surprised. He nodded in confirmation.

"It's worse, today. Usually I can at least read your emotions, tell what you're feeling, how strong it is, maybe even catch a glimpse of what triggered it. Today?" He raised his eyebrows. "Nothing. I've had to surmise what I can from your body language alone."

That was unusual. Kylo was particularly gifted in using the Force to sense the thoughts of others. You were just as Force sensitive as he was, but had spend most of your life forced to hide it, and it had been causing you problems lately. At times, you unconsciously used your powers to throw up walls between your mind and the world. You and Ren had guessed that it was your unconscious way of trying to protect yourself. These mental walls helped stop your emotions from being projected outward and communicated to those around you who might wish you harm, but they also stopped Kylo from getting in, which was a problem. He needed to be able to keep tabs on you. If he couldn't, you were in danger, and you knew it. However, despite the serious nature of the situation, you couldn't pass up the chance to take a jab at him.

You let out a gasp of mock surprise. "You mean you have to read nonverbal cues? Like a normal person? How horrible!" you lamented, sarcastically feigning pity.

Kylo Ren was not a man with a great penchant for jokes, especially when they were at his expense. In fact, most officers in the First Order would probably tell you that he didn't have a comedic bone in his body. But you knew him better. Though he steepled his fingers and lowered his head to his hands, closing his eyes with a sigh of exasperation, you saw the corners of his mouth briefly twitch up into a small smile. You smirked in satisfaction. "I'm right and you know it. Behavior cues are something you have no right to complain about."

He raised his head and looked back at you with a shrewd expression. "And they are why I know that, as much as you attempt to deflect with humor, you are having difficulty. Tell me."

You blushed at the call-out. "It's nothing, really, I-"

He held out a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. "Don't lie to me, little one. Tell me what's bothering you." Though the rebuke was gentle, and his tone was tender, you avoided his gaze, choosing to observe the durasteel floor rather than let him see the shame rising in you.

"It's the memories," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's your mother again, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, I just-" you broke off, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "I just- what if she was right? What if I am broken, what if it is my own fault that I failed for so long? What if I can't keep this up, what if I fail again? I don't know, I just spent all day remembering everything she told me, and I thought..." You finally wrenched your gaze away from the floor, looking up at your Supreme Leader through eyes full of tears, praying that he would see the cry for help in your expression that you were too afraid to put into words. "What if I don't deserve this, either?"

With that final admission of insecurity, you lost what little composure you had left. Silent tears began flowing freely down your face as you sunk back into the ocean of memories that had been threatening to drown you for most of the day.

A voice with all the tenderness and softness of a spring rain cut through your thoughts, pulling you out of your daze.

"Come here, darling."

Obediently, you crossed the throne room. As you approached the dais, you looked up at him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. He had shifted in his seat, his new position an implicit invitation for you to join him on his throne. You kicked off your boots and ascended the dais, gratefully climbing into his lap and bringing your knees to your chest, melting into the body that was so familiar to you. He pulled you close to him, one arm supporting the small of your back, the other hand pressing your head to his chest despite the tears creating ever-growing dark spots on his thin shirt.

"Shhhh," he murmured. "Listen."

Obediently, you quieted your breathing, paying attention to your senses. Slowly but surely, you found the steady sound of his heart beating in his chest.

"Good girl." A pause, then he continued, impossibly gentle. "Now, match my breath." Obediently, you observed the rise and fall of his chest, then adjusted your own to match.

Inhale.

"Good." His hand stroked your hair.

Exhale.

"Just like that, darling. In..."

Inhale.

"...and out."

Exhale.

"You're doing wonderfully."

A moment of comfortable silence. No strife. No memories. No galaxy to rule. Just the two of you, breathing together.

The way you were meant to be.

He spoke again, continuing to caress you. "Remember where you are."

Inhale. Exhale.

"You are here, with me, and you are safe."

Inhale. Exhale.

"You deserve every star in the galaxy, every atom in the universe."

Inhale. Exhale.

"You deserve your place at my side."

Inhale. Exhale.

"Your mother was wrong. You deserve everything you have. And every time you are with me, I thank the Force for allowing me to rule with you by my side."

"Thank you," you murmured, words muffled from being spoken directly into his chest. God, you loved him, but managing to find the words to express that out loud was impossible.

His voice spoke inside your mind.

"Don't bother. I already know."

You felt, rather than saw, the smile that backed his words.

"If the memories ever bother you again, come find me. I'll help you."

A beat.

"You never have to face this alone again."

You sat there, pressed against him, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Grateful to simply be with someone who had vowed to always be by your side.

"I love you," you thought.

"I know."

-

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[alphabravocharliedelta]

Skyfall | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader [One-shot]

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 10,000+

Synopsis: After Solovetsky, Bell is personally recruited by M16 after Park’s personal recommendation. From there, the mission to pursue Perseus never ends. It isn’t until the confrontation at Pines Mall that everything is thrown into disarray, Adler now held captor by Stitch. Unable to cope, Bell takes matters into their own hands.

Content Warning: mature content, gore, adult language, blood, injuries, etc.

Notes: I decided to write this whole piece for Adler��s birthday, especially after seeing the Season Two teaser. I’m not good at romance, so please excuse me. And yes, it was inspired by Adele’s Skyfall. Full italic dialogue is the characters speaking Russian, ‘0000′ means a short time skip. Enjoy! 

[SKYFALL]

.

“What do you mean ‘captured’?”

You look Woods straight in the eye. 

The look you gave him was something he had never seen before, and it scared him. Woods could feel his blood run cold as you waited for an answer. He choked up, pursing his lips in a thin line. God help them all.

"It was Stitch."

Upon hearing that name, you slam a fist down on the table. You like a bomb, just waiting to go off, practically shaking from anger, and it was taking your entire willpower to not blow off. 

"And…" you begin, trying to keep your voice under control. "You just let him?"

"Fuck no. Dear god, no," Woods responds immediately. "They got us. Set up an ambush right in the middle of the damn mall. We fought tooth and nail and barely made it out, yet we were too late to notice him carrying off Adler—"

"Enough."

You glare at him for a bit, before breaking off to sit back down and burrow your face into your hand. Already you were beginning to feel lethargic, your head throbbing continuously in annoyance. 

"Bell–" 

"Don't," you hiss. You didn't want to hear apologies. 

The meeting room eventually cleared out on its own, leaving you to your thoughts. No one had said a word, and Woods respected your wishes, knowing that he would just add fuel to the fire. The team was already banged up and exhausted as is, and he didn't exactly want to be pitted against your aggressive behavior in these times. He was worried about you for sure, but now he was left to wonder what the hell he was supposed to tell Hudson. 

It was hours prior that you just returned from a mission with Park. You were both working on a collaborative assignment with the CIA, in which entailed you to gather intel to cross reference with their database. Adler and his team still hadn't arrived then, so you both waited patiently for some news. Adler was the one commanding the squad, which consisted of Woods, Zenya, and Bulldozer. However, only three of them returned.

You played with the watch around your wrist, thinking back. Adler had given it to you before you left, telling you to give it back to him when you returned. He gave you a kiss on the forehead when no one was looking, bidding you a successful operation. Guilt began to belittle you the longer you thought about it, so you pulled your sleeve back over.

You should have turned down the assignment, and went to the Pines mall with everyone else. If you were there, things would have turned out better. 

A part of you blamed the team for their incompetence, unable to prepare themselves for any type of situation. But in the end, it all came down to unfortunate circumstances that they just had the short end of receiving. It was practically trained in them that the mission came first, and they did successfully prevent the Nova Six explosion. Civilian lives were saved.

With the price of Russell Adler, of course.

You should have known that it was Stitch. Adler mentioned knowing him a while back, but didn't go into detail as to how. They must have had a tight history together if Stitch was willing to abandon the N6 canisters once he got his hands on Adler. You wanted to do something, anything, but there was no information whatsoever about his whereabouts. The only info you had was Woods and the team's account of seeing a chopper take off the only piece of evidence pointing towards Adler. 

You knew the Perseus member way beforehand, even working with him occasionally during your times with the group. The two of you were nothing but fellow colleagues, as you outranked him, but there were a few occasions where you two got along. But, now that you were on different sides, and knowing that everything was pointing towards him, you wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his skull. 

Time felt lost as you sat, lost in old memories. It was nearly goddamn twelve a.m. by the time you got up. You nearly toppled over, both your legs asleep after sitting idly for so long. Ignoring the static that ran up your thighs, you run a hand through your hair before giving out a long exhale.

“Bell?”

Looking up, you see Park peeking around the corner. She changed her outfit since you last saw her, this time without all her combat gear. You could detect a faint smell of vanilla from her

“Hey,” you greet wearily. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I… wanted to see how you were doing.” She approaches you with a small comforting smile. “You haven’t moved for a couple hours.” 

“I’m fine.”

It's what you had claimed, but your appearance said otherwise. Your hair was out of place, stray hairs poking out everywhere, and your eyes were bloodshot. Throat parched, you haven’t drank or eaten anything since you returned and found out what happened. All your energy was spent wallowing in anger and regret the past few hours. 

“Did… Hudson say anything?” you inquire tiredly. 

Pity flashed across Park’s expression as she tilted her head away from you, her eyes moving to avoid your gaze. “I can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“It’s within reason, especially since how close you and Adler are.”

“And you agree?” 

She didn’t say anything. 

While you and Adler tried to keep your relationship under the radar, it was still apparent to everyone else that there was something going on between you two. After all, Park was the one that urged you to shoot your shot after you consulted her about “feeling strange”. No one called you out on it, seeing how you both were basically fit for each other. The invisible connection between you two is what made everything work smoothly on almost every mission. It was as if you already knew what Adler had on his mind, or what he was planning, and you would always take steps to ensure its success. 

So she knew that you were already blaming yourself for not being there for him. Having you on the upcoming rescue mission had the possibility of causing more problems, especially with your psychological tendencies to act before thinking. 

“Why do I even bother?” you scoff. You brush past her, about to head down the hallway, only for her to grab your wrist. You look over your shoulder, sending her an accusing glare as you pull away from her.

“We’re… trying to pinpoint his location,” Park informs you reluctantly. “They marked him off as M.I.A., but given enough time—”

“We don’t have time,” you spat. Before saying anything else, you inhale through your nose, trying to reign in your emotions. Park wasn’t the enemy here. “You don’t know Stitch. I worked with the guy before. He’s ruthless with his enemies, so who knows what he has in store for Adler?” 

“I know. They’re doing their best, just let them handle it. For the time being, just take care of yourself.” 

You didn’t make a sound, and only gave her a curt nod before trailing away. 

As much as you trusted Park and Woods, you couldn’t bring yourself to place hope in their plan. They didn’t know how the Perseus group dealt with people like Adler. You had first hand experience, as you were one of the people that had to do the dirty work early on. The methods they had at their disposal was one wishes to never go through, and you even had some people die on you because of it. Unfortunate, but it was your duty then.

Military personnel going M.I.A. was nothing new in this work field. You knew you were getting worked up about his disappearance, but the thought of his presence not returning to the base made you worry. How could you not? You loved the bastard to death, and would do whatever it takes to get him back, despite everything he did to you.

Coming to a decision, you headed off to the washroom to clean off before doing anything else. 

After all, you had a job to do.

0000

“Woods.”

He perks up, finding Park standing across from him. They both shared the same overworked appearance, dark bluish bags already settled under their eyes. About a week has passed since Adler’s capture, and the entire team had been working endlessly just trying to find any hint that would point towards where he may have been taken to.

Their efforts lacked any results, and they were getting desperate. One of their best CIA agents had been abducted, and the higher ups were already considering that Adler either caved in, or died under Soviet custody. Everyone was just waiting for a sign or slip up, any information that could help them.

“What?” Woods answers.

“I need you to talk to Bell,” Park sighs, before taking a seat across from him. She briefly reads the papers in front of her, before brushing them aside to make room for her elbows. Leaning in close, they talk in hushed voices. “I haven’t seen them leave their room in more than four days now.”

Woods huffs, before tossing a manila folder onto the floor. “Bell’s fine. Leave them alone.”

“Look. The M16 decided they didn’t want to be associated with this last minute, and requested for Bell and I to return.” Park drums her fingers on the table. “That was two days ago, and I still haven’t gotten a hold of them. The head of our department is getting impatient.”

“Not my problem.”

He knew that you could very much handle yourself when it came to things like this. Hell, he himself tried to check up on you a couple of times, but he never found you loitering around the common areas or cafeteria. Though, he did note that the coffee pot would be filled by the time he woke up, with a mug missing from the cabinet. Woods didn't think you were a coffee type of person, but you only continued to prove his assumptions wrong with each passing day he knew you. So, he came to the conclusion that if you were in a stable mind to get caffinated every morning before everyone else woke, then you were finding a way to cope.

And yet the concern in Park's voice told him otherwise. 

"If we don't return by tomorrow, they're going to ban us from working with you guys."

Woods pauses. "They can't do that."

"Well, we don't want to find out now, do we?" Seeing that she got his attention, Park stands back up. "Let's go."

Seeing no other choice, he follows. They both head down a series of hallways. It felt almost like a maze just trying to get around the headquarters, to a point where Woods was starting to wonder if Park even knew where she was heading. 

After going down a flight of stairs, they came across a plain door in the secluded parts of the base. You had always liked your privacy, and the covered hallway window only further proved it. 

Park gives a knock on the metal exterior, letting you know of their presence. "Bell? It's Park. I need you to come out for a bit. We need to talk."

They waited for you to respond, or for the sound of the door unlocking. But after a minute passed, nothing happened.

"Bell, I'm serious."

"Ugh, let me do it," Woods groans, gesturing for her to move aside. He had to admit, he was a bit irritated with you as well, seeing how you didn't do much to contribute to their search.

He tries the door knob, but it was locked. Although, it was a bit finicky and loose from the sounds of it. Seeing no other choice, he reels back before kicking it in.

"Bell!" Woods yells, pushing the door open. "Enough moping ar—"

The sight of your room was something to behold. Could one even call it a room?

"What the fuck?" Woods mutters under his breath.

It felt more like a library, and a messy one at that. There were stacks of books sticking up from the floor, accompanied with sheets of paper throwing all around the place. Manila folders of various sizes and age sat around, open and overfilled with information. The wall farthest from the door was covered with a large world map.

Taking careful steps, the duo both inch their way inside. Upon closer inspection, Park realizes that the papers weren't just random, but were intel. All of it was. Everything from past information relating to Perseus, to even the most recent encryptions the CIA managed to get a hold of. Things that were supposed to be wiped off the record managed to snake their way into the stacks. 

The books were all about cryptography, dating back until the first forms. The basics, the patterns, you name it.

"Bell's fucking insane."

“No, they were always like this."

Ever since you found out about what she and Adler did to you, you became more meticulous. No rock was left unturned, and you refused to make any mistakes in your work. You double checked everything, even referring to other works to make sure nothing was out of place. There were nights where she had to convince you to stop working so you could catch a break, and she felt guilty about it.

Park brushes a lock of her hair away from her face, moving towards the map while trying not to step on anything. She could see your handwriting on the borders of the papers, as well as on the vibrant sticky notes you had slapped on some of them. Stopping in front of the desk, a few white mugs were pushed aside, just teetering on the edge. She then notices that you focused on a particular set of papers, consisting of a few encryptions. 

They were fairly new, first appearing just one day prior. Both the text and your notes were written in Russian, but your handwriting was done in a rushed fashion. You had circled certain parts, drawing arrows between them, and even drew out a legend to help keep track. While seeing you work like this was nothing new to her, she wondered why you wrote in a different language this time, rather than the usual English. You rarely spoke or wrote in your mother tongue. Sometimes you would converse with Adler in Russian, especially if there were other people around, but that was all she could recall.

"Just how the hell did Bell get a hold of any of this?" Woods mutters, throwing a few pieces up in the air. He expected you to just pop up from somewhere, seeing how they invaded your workspace, but you were nowhere to be found. "Damn, even I didn't get to see some of these before."

Park ignores him, and her eyes drift off to the map in front of her. There were a few pins that kept up scraps of paper, although nothing of interest. If there was one thing, it was the bold, black marker you had used to circle a particular location. Next to it were strange symbols, possibly relating to whatever was on the table.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Shit!"

Without wasting another second, she grabs the papers on your desk, gathering up as much as possible in her arms before rushing towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woods asks, grabbing her arm just before she flees. "We have to find—"

"Bell knows where Adler is." 

His grip loosens, and Park frees herself. They stood idly in the hallway as Woods tried to put everything together. "How—"

Park gestures to the map with her chin. "Over there, those are coordinates, I’m betting. And here in my arms are all the notes that ascertain that. I'll bring this over to the cryptography team, while you need to find Bell before they do anything stupid.” 

[FIVE HOURS EARLIER], 8:23 am

"Belikov?"

"Ah, hello, Bell. What can I do for you?"

The door behind you closes on its own, a nice click coming from it. Belikov’s office was small and minimally decorated. He sat at a metal desk that had a large computer on top of it, with wires trailing away from it and into the cool grey wall. A small task board was mounted behind him, with a list of reminders or tasks he needed to get done. 

You approach him, keeping a hand in your pocket. Glancing up slightly, you notice a camera in the corner with its light blinking. From what you can gather, it didn't have a mic equipped with it.

"I need you to do me a small favor,” you announce. “Think of it as repayment for Lubyanka.”

Belikov sets down his pen, sensing that something was out of place. 

You were never really the type of person to ask favors, or help. Not only that, there was a strange underlying tone in your voice that he couldn't help but feel that your request was more of a threat. He had heard you were originally a close associate to Perseus, and his thoughts quickly directed him to the possibility that you might have gone rogue.

"Depends on what the favor is," he responds slowly, reaching his hand slowly under his desk.

"You still remember how to pilot a chopper, no?" 

"...You know I can't do that anymore. That's not what I do here."

As if unsatisfied with his answer, you pull out your hand from your pocket, revealing a pistol and shoot once towards the direction of the camera. The sound of the lens breaking filled the air, and pieces fell to the ground upon impact. Without hesitation, you then turn it towards Belikov, who pushed himself away from the desk.

He looks down at your gun. A silencer was secured tightly to the end of it, and you had a steady finger just resting right next to the trigger. His eyes travel up your arm, before meeting you eye to eye. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation here, comrade,” you chastised in a low voice, and Belikov froze. “I wasn’t asking.”

Unable to do anything else, he put his hands up, keeping an eye on your gun. “And if I don’t?” he dared to ask.

“C'mon, don't be like that," you condemn, waving your hand around for a bit. "We both know why I'm here, so you can either make it easy for both of us, or make it Hell for everyone else."

"It's Adler, isn't it? I heard what happened."

You grind your teeth. 

Surviving on a mere eight hours of sleep collectively for the past week, you were barely keeping awake. You only left your room to either refill your coffee mug, or to go to the bathroom. Having surrounded yourself with practically every source available at your disposal, you could already hear voices whispering in your ear. Whether it was thanks to sleep deprivation or to the side effects of MKUltra, you didn't care.

So, just standing here and talking with Belikov was wasting any precious time and breath.

"Here's what you're going to do," you begin. "You are going to get a helicopter, and take me to where I want. No funny business, no questions. Got it?"

He nods, knowing that he was unable to escape.

Walking out the door, you stuck to him closely. Belikov could feel the silencer prodding him in the side as you went to the hangar together. From there, you let him choose a heli of his choosing.

As he did so, you took a small detour and went behind a large crate. There, you found all the equipment you had hid beforehand, and quickly threw everything on, and grabbed a parachute. The load was a bit heavy, so you had to put some effort into pulling your weight with each step. Prioritizing tactical equipment, your only weapons were a combat knife and the pistol.

"You're going to jump?" Belikov questions in disbelief as you board.

"What did I say?" you retort, and he shut up immediately. 

As Belikov started up the heli, you could hear traffic control attempting to wave you down: "You are not authorized to—". 

You unhooked the microphone from its place, bringing it close to your mouth. “Sergeant Woods approved of this flyby, no need to worry. Goodbye, you little shits.”

It was uncalled for, but you could feel satisfaction from just going off at them. Oh, you couldn’t wait to see the look on Woods face when you returned.

Without waiting for a response, you took it upon yourself to flick the radio off, as well as the GPS tracker. Belikov gave you an alarmed look, unable to comprehend the amount of rules and laws you were breaking, and you returned with a devious smirk, just daring him to speak. 

“Fly.”

And he did.

The helicopter blades started to rotate, gaining speed. You and Belikov cover your ears with headsets, and you watched as the ground below you grew smaller and smaller. A few people were running out to the runway, attempting to prevent you from leaving, but by then they couldn’t do anything but report it back to the officers.

Everything was going to plan.

It was by pure chance that you happened to stumble upon the coded message that led you up to this point. The CIA team had brushed it off, and set it aside to transcribe at a later time. Although difficult, you broke it within a few days. If you did everything correctly, and you validated that you did, then the coordinates you discovered would lead to the tiny island of Nantucket, Massachusetts. There, an old World War II base would be found, out of commission. You had already salvaged through past records for an old layout of the base, and memorized it.

Taking everything into account, from helicopter fuel to radio chatter, Stitch and his party shouldn’t have gone too far. There weren't any records of unidentified or unauthorized aircrafts entering or leaving the East Coast, so it was safe to assume that they didn’t leave the country yet. They were waiting for something, or someone.

The thought of it being a trap did, in fact, cross your mind, but it didn’t bother you. There were other things to prioritize, and your life was second. You were probably deemed mentally insane at this point, seeing the lengths you had already gone through just to trying to get to Adler. But, if the roles were reversed, you knew he would do the same for you.

You weren’t going to fail, nor was Adler dead, so you were going to try your damn hardest for the both of you to return home. Alive.

Taking a moment, you looked over to check on Belikov. He maneuvered the copter without much trouble, although his grip on the handles were a bit tense, and you couldn’t help but feel a little remorseful, knowing that you just put him in a bad spot.

“When we get back,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Tell them I held you at gunpoint. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me. Say that I was psychotic, or whatever.”

“No need,” he declines. “It’s the least I can do. You did save me back at the KGB after all.”

“Adler was the one who gave you this position in the first place. I don’t want to take away your chance at life because of my decision.”

He hummed. “Well, I trust that you’ll come up with something when the time comes. For now, just rest.”

You take a look at your watch. It was about 9:52 am, which meant that it took you about thirty minutes to get Belikov and board the chopper, and another twenty to get this far out from base.

It was a risky move to just fall asleep, seeing how Belikov could just turn around when you're out and turn you in. But, for someone that was held hostage, Belikov didn’t appear too bothered by it. Truth be told, you did hear stories about him, both from Adler and rumors floating around. His personality was a complete opposite of the things he had committed, and you couldn’t help but be impressed. 

A silence settled between the both of you. Listening to the whir of the blades above you, you take the chance to view the scenery beneath you. To the right, an endless blue. The sunlight made the water twinkle brightly, and you notice a few carrier ships in the distance. As for the left, you could make out the shapes of buildings and immobile cars. Some houses aligned the beaches, little dots scattered around on the shore. 

Massaging your eyes, you could feel yourself easing up as a sense of tranquility fell over you. For an unknown reason, you didn’t feel as troubled as one should in your situation. You crossed the line the moment you set foot into Belikov’s office, knowing that you could be held accountable for any mayhem that would follow. You should be shaking right now, fearing for the worse, or even thinking of possible outcomes if something went awry. But, you couldn't. 

There was only one outcome. 

Panic was unnecessary. If things happen, it'll happen.

And before you knew it, Nantucket came into view.

You slid the door open, holding onto the handles to stable yourself.

"I need you to come back in an hour!" you yell at Belikov over the wind. "The area should be clear by then!"

"An hour?!" he exclaims. "That's not enough—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, as you already jumped out. He could see your form get smaller and smaller as you pulled your arms to the side to gain speed. "Time..."

The plunge from the air, you had to admit, was a bit frightening. You never had really gone base jumping, or even skydiving, beforehand, so your experience was that of a beginner at best. It's a subject that isn't exactly given at basic military training. And despite your years of experience, this was probably the second time you had to ever jump out of a helicopter. The first time was during your time "Vietnam", when it was shot out of the air and hung up in the tree lines, but that was a different kind of jumping.

You pulled the parachute open when you were just a good distance above the water, and the old base was just a good swim away. Positioning yourself, you pointed your toes downward so you could break the surface tension of the water as you land. Once close enough, you cut the strings.

The salty, cold water immediately sent chills in your bones right as you landed. You could feel everything trying to drag you down, especially the small waves that crashed over you. A part of you just wanted to take everything off to make the load lighter, but you knew that you were going to need it eventually. Gasping for air, you tread for a bit, just trying to catch your breath.

Once you recovered, you took a leisure swim towards land. 

There was a desolate space in front of you once you exited, in which a couple of humvees and a heli carrier sat. Crates were stacked nearby, left out in the open. Seizing the opportunity, you took cover behind them and whipped out a pair of binoculars. You took a quick survey of the perimeters, wondering the best approach. 

There weren't as many people as you thought, counting, at most, five people that were patrolling the area. It was daytime, and the land was pretty vacant. 

Taking a look at the time, it was now 10:32 am. The flight took about two hours, which meant that you had about one hour to retrieve Adler and rendezvous with Belikov before Hudson and the team could catch up with you. You hoped to return before they left. If they were smart, they must have broken into your room by now. 

Returning focus to the objective, Woods had claimed that there were about thirty enemies when it came to the ambush, and a later report came out that eighteen bodies were counted. That meant there should be about twelve loitering around the base, five outside and seven inside.

"Have you counted the boxes already?"

A couple of men began to approach your area, and you instantly pulled yourself inwards and pressed your back against the crate. 

"Yes. Everything is refueled and ready for transport."

"Took long enough."

They stopped right next to you, backs turned. Their uniforms were black, fitted with a matching vest and tundra camouflage patterned pants. You could see the Perseus symbol embroidered on the biceps of their right arm. Stitch certainly had a weird sense of fashion when it came to his underling.

With them distracted, you pounced onto one of them, covering their mouth. You pulled out their firearm from their side, and quickly unloaded the bullets into his partner before he could react. The body fell to the ground with a loud thud, and the man in your chokehold’s screams were brought down to a muffle. 

You then violently snap his neck in return, and his body slumps over in your arms. With two dead bodies already on the list, you drag them behind cover, and strip the latter of his uniform, shove it on and top it off with the vest, switching out any unessential equipment with yours. It felt significantly easier to walk now without wet clothing.

Assuring that everything was in order, you headed inside.

It was eerily quiet, and you could mainly hear the whirring of machines, fans, and steam on the inside. A bit cramped, you noted, the wallways about two persons wide. The place showed little activity of reconstruction, having been untouched and abandoned. Dust collected in every nook and cranny, and there were dark spots and cracks speckled across the floor. The layout seemed true to the map you had remembered, so you traveled in deeper. 

For a bit, it reminded you of the Ukraine mission. You were paired up with Woods, both of you infiltrating the secret Spetsnaz training facility and setting the place ablaze. You even had the balls to press the large red button, stating that "the enemies should come to you instead", much to the inconvenience of Woods.

"Ah comrade, I need your help over here!"

Breaking your train of thought, you muse over if you should engage in the request. 

Ah, what the hell? you think. Maybe you could get them to spill information about Adler.

You trace back your steps to an open door. Inside, a man around the same height as you gestured you to come in. He had a fresh shave, with dark blonde hair gelled back. The top of his uniform was tied around his waist, an old tank top taking its place. By the looks of it, he seemed pretty drained.

"Perfect timing. I need you to help pack these," he requests.

"Ah," you voice. "And you're…?"

"Ivanov."

Walking in, the room was a makeshift armory. Rows of AK47s were aligned in a row on the tabletop, and underneath a crate of a diminishing supply of grenades. Ivanov was the only guy you seen inside thus far. He was filling up magazines, setting them on the table after the pack was finished. 

Seeing that you were going to assist, he hauls a box of bullets out of the ammo container, and sets it down next to you. "We're a bit behind schedule, since Captain Kuzmin got a hold of the American."

You pause, hand hovering over the box, before continuing the motion and grabbing a couple of bullets and loading them into a magazine. "The prisoner, what happened to them?"

"I'm not sure, but I heard they were keeping him in one of the basements," Ivanov answers. 

"Ah, I did not know that." You slide the mag in, making sure it was secure before pulling the top of it back. Seeing how you already knew how to do it, he straightens up, about to return to his station, only to do a double take in your direction. His eyes widened. "Thanks for informing me."

"Motherf—"

You pull the trigger.

Ivanov recoils backwards from the impact, tripping over the containers on the floor. A clean hit, right in between his eyes. 

You let the firearm fall out of your hands, and it clatters onto the floor. Stepping over his body, you made your way back out, but not before tossing a few C4s into the pile of grenades.

Once getting a couple paces away from the armory, you detonated them. 

The walls shook violently, and the overhead lights flickered. Nearby windows shattered from the blast wave, glass falling onto the gloomy floors. A few stray bits flew your direction, grazing your cheek.

Now that they had a distraction, you made your way to the basement. 

The alarms began to sound, covering the metallic rings of the stairs as you rushed down them. There was an announcement over the PA, announcing that there were intruders, and it repeated endlessly. 

On the final flight, a lone Perseus soldier ran their way up the stairs. "Where are you going?!" he exclaimed, trying to shove you back in the other direction. "There's a—"

You cut him off, sinking a knife into his chest. A few specks of blood splattered on your face, and you yank the blade back out. He gurgled, and watched helplessly as you cleaned your knife on the sleeve of your uniform. 

"Give Arash my regards," you growl, stepping over him.

Now on the lowest part of the facility, you began kicking every door open, peering in to see if Adler resided in one of them.

Another of Stitch's companions rounded the corner, this time with rifles in hand. Upon seeing you, they fired in your direction and you duck into one of the rooms.

The glass pane above you shatters as they continue to unload everything. "Fucking idiots," you hiss under your breath.

Unhooking a grenade from your belt, you pulled out the pin and chucked it out the window. It goes off, and the air fills with the screams of two.

One survived the blast, trying to crawl away. You stop them, grabbing them by the collar and flipping them over and holding a gun to their head. 

"Where's Adler?!" you bellow, pressing the barrel against his temple. "Tell me, and you'll live."

He gives out a pained, yet mocking chuckle. "You won't find him—"

You shoot him in the shoulder, and he gives out a yelp. Bringing him closer, you repeat yourself, "I'll ask again. Where. Is. He."

"You're too late," he chokes out, giving you a bloody grin. "The Captain's… He's- He's already heading to eva—"

"Fuck!" 

You let him go, making sure to put a hole in each leg so he can bleed to death. With that, you made a dash towards the stairs, practically flying up it.

While you were busy poking around, Stitch must have already begun to move Adler out. The chopper they used was still there when you parachuted half an hour ago, so that must mean you just missed him.

The panic that you should have felt ages ago began to settle in. Shit shit shit!

Your joints and limbs were aching, just waiting to give out. A part of you just wanted to give up and trip, spending the rest of the time just lying down on the concrete floor. The small possibility that Adler was no longer here made you choke up, and it makes you wonder why you came all this way. Desperation hung over your shoulders, and your throat began to tighten.

You run out to the open sun, the sun rays temporarily blinding you. 

Urgently, you look around for anything that was moving.

Here, you see a dark hooded figure just about a kilometer away, dragging something on the ground, around 300 yards away. Around him were three other soldiers. They were about halfway to the chopper carrier, and if you were to start running now, you wouldn't make—

No, you will. There was no time for doubt.

A humvee was pulled up nearby, and you quickly jumped into it. The keys were still in the ignition, so you cranked it sideways. The vehicle vibrated, a loud buzzing noise started. Switching the stick position, you slammed on the accelerator. It lurched forward, the tires screeching against the pavement.

With one hand on the wheel, you bring out another C4, tossing it into the passenger seat. You took out your grenades, your flashbangs- anything that would cause an explosion, and threw it into the pile.

They couldn't go anywhere if they didn't have the means of doing so.

You sped past the group of people, and taking a look out the window, you saw him. 

Adler was on the ground, unconscious. His glasses were gone, and his clothes were stained in dried blood. You couldn't see his face underneath all the red smeared all over it. And holding him by the back of the collar was Stitch.

A sudden rage overtook you, and you wanted to jerk the wheel to run him over, but you managed to keep a level head, and drove past.

Caught off guard, his underlings began to shoot at your vehicle, but the reinforced plating shielded you as bullets pelted against the side.

The helicopter was right there, and so you did it.

You kick the door open and jump out. The landing was brutal, the wind getting knocked out of you upon impact. You tucked in, but felt your arm give out the moment it touched the ground, and tiny rocks scraped against your skin, tearing it open. The detonator fell out of your hands.

The humvee continued without you, the pedal stuck in place, and crashed into the heli. You forced yourself into a crawl, reaching for the remote. Once you felt something metallic brush against your fingers, you grabbed it and pressed every button available. The car exploded, taking out the chopper with it. Flames burst upward, sending a heat wave within radius. 

You were all stuck on the island.

Now, it was time to deal with Stitch.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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.

.

.

. 

[TWO WEEKS LATER], 10:15pm

"That's it?"

"Yep," you affirm, before taking another shot of vodka.

Instantly, loud groans of disappointment filled the table and you smile smugly at their reactions. 

"You're fucking kidding Bell—"

"Wow, really leaving us hanging."

You laugh as Woods gives you a friendly slap on the back of your head. "You're the most dumbest, deranged person I ever worked with," he declares. 

"I take after you and Mason." You shrug with a smug grin. “Let’s face it though, you’re proud of me.”

“Damn right I am. But seriously, ‘Goodbye, you little shits’? You not only lie, but you disrespect me?”

"Well, would you have preferred me saying 'kiss my ass'?" you retort.

Two weeks have passed since your selfish decision to go after Adler. You managed to do the impossible, and it only took days of sleepless nights, a lot of coffee, and your mind balancing on the edge of insanity for you to pull it off. 

Truth be told, you couldn't remember anything afterwards, as your memory blanked out. 

According to Woods, they arrived shortly after where you ended your story. Somehow, you had managed to take out the other three, and were engaged Stitch in close quarter combat. They landed and took Stitch into custody, although he had left quite a mess in return.

You got stabbed in the abdomen, and got a knife pierced through your hands, and had a few bullet grazings and scrapes. Your shoulder got dislocated from your little dive out of the humvee. As for Adler, he was in better condition than you expected. He was still alive, although Stitch did a number on him.

The asshole decided to do an art project on Adler’s face, tracing over his scar with a fresh, sharp blade and gave him a broken nose. You shivered just thinking back on it. The medical report also indicated that he had a few broken bones mostly in his right arm and hand. There was a single bullet wound in his left leg as well, which you assumed he received from collateral damage around the time you were fighting the three.

They applied first aid there, before transporting you all back home for proper treatment.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the med bay, three days after. You slept a whole sixty-two hours, catching up on sleep and recovering. Park chewed your ass out the moment you woke up, saying that you were on administrative leave and taken off payroll until a decision could be made on what to do with you.

Now, everyone was gathered in the meeting room, the lights turned down low to set the mood. You had just finished recounting your experience to the crew.

Anything work related was pushed aside, the papers replaced with several cans of beers and glasses of alcohol. Stress was relieved through downing shots, and entertainment was the good old pack of cards and chips, hard cash thrown onto the tabletops. Even Hudson was there, holding a bottle while playing beer pong.

“Bell, I just remembered,” Park perks up suddenly beside you. She reaches into her back pocket, retrieving a folded piece of paper and hands it over. “Look what I found.”

You take it, eyeing her cautiously. “What's this?”

“Blackmail,” she says lightly, and you gave her a stern look. “I’m kidding, but go on.”

Opening it up, it revealed itself to be a photograph. The timestamp showed that it was taken a couple weeks ago. More accurately, the day you went on a solo raid.

It was a picture of you and Adler sitting in the back of the helicopter, probably taken right after it landed back home. Your head was resting on Adler’s shoulder, and his head was leaning against yours. You were both holding hands, which rested on top of his left thigh.

"Aren't you two a bunch of lovebirds?" Park pokes fun at.

“What the fuck?!” you shriek, feeling heat rise up on your cheeks as Park gives you a shit-eating grin. “Helen, what the hell is wrong—”

“Oh, what do we have here?” 

Woods plucks the polaroid right out of your hands. He whistles, seeing its contents. "Wow, wait 'till Mason hears about—"

"If you tell Mason, then I'll tell him about the mannequin," you snarl, snatching it back. You then turn to Park, who nonchalantly takes a sip of her drink. "Really?"

"C'mon Bell. It's not every day you get to see that kind of stuff," she teases.

"Well, let's make this the last time then. I'm burning this."

You take your leave, Baker shouting across the room for you to get another pack of beer, and you give him the bird over the shoulder in response, before taking a turn out the doorway. 

The noise of music and speaking lowered down to the steady hum of the hanging lights as you wandered around for a bit.

You head the opposite direction of the trash room, and eventually find Adler in one of makeshift sleeping quarters. It was just him and one other person, who had just finished redressing his bandages.

He looked pale, his sullen expression exposing his insomniac habits. A large gauze pad was secured tightly with tape over his cheek, and his right arm in a cast. The medic was helping him get his jacket on, but in the end he only put his left arm in the sleeve while letting the rest hang from his shoulders. After determining he didn’t need any more help, the medic left, giving you a weary look of thanks as you moved out of the way.

Adler perks up slightly noticing your presence, giving you a small smile. “If it isn’t Sputnik.”

“Seriously?” you articulate. “That’s my nickname now?”

He ignores your question. “Are you drunk?”

“No. How's the face?"

"Hurts to talk, but I'll live."

Despite your protests, you were, in fact, drunk. You somehow managed to live up to the concept of Russians being able to handle alcohol well, yet Adler notes that you were beginning to slur your words. It was rather intriguing for many to experience the complete 180 in your personality when you get drunk. You would never shut up once someone got you to start talking, and if you had something to say, you did it in the most blunt way possible. A bit of your accent came out as well, a bit of a mix between British and Russian all together.

"You better."

Adler scoffs in amusement, but beckons you to get closer over with his hand. "C'mere."

"You forgive me?" you say hopefully, taking a seat on a swivel chair next to the bed. You both haven't seen each other since the incident, as you were forcibly isolated and interrogated once deemed stable enough. Adler most likely heard what had happened by the time you were released.

"You’re joking, right? Of course I don’t,” he reprimands, giving you a flick in the forehead. 

“What the he—”

“You disobeyed a direct order, threaten someone at gunpoint, steal a heli, raid an abandoned military base on your own, blow it up, then have the audacity to fight Stitch on your own?"

"I literally killed an entire garrison for you, don't you dare lecture me on what I did."

"Is that your way of being romantic? Committing war crimes?"

"Which ones?” you counter. “You gotta be more specific, Russ, my entire existence is a war crime."

He sighs, knowing there's no use arguing with you. It felt like he was talking to a doppelganger of Woods sometimes, so having to deal with two idiots on the team was mentally exhausting. If anything, your efforts balance it out. 

Lying down, he notices the paper in your hand and points his chin at it. "What's that?"

You lazily hold your hand out, letting him take it from you. "Did you know Park took this?"

"No. But you look dashing." Adler pockets it when you aren't looking.

"I look like a serial killer," you whine, leaning back and proceeding to spin.

"That's what you are."

"I don't kill for fun."

Adler stops your chair by sticking his foot out, worried that being dizzy and drunk might somehow cause you to hit your head against the table. “Your body count says otherwise.”

"Oh shit, am I on the top three?"

"If you keep pulling off the shit you do, you'll be first place soon enough."

You give out a boisterous laugh. "At least I beat you at something."

A silence settles between the both of you as your laughter dies out to a chuckle. To think that you were now able to have a casual conversation with Adler without having to worry felt reassuring. Despite his demeanor, he was an easy guy to talk to, but it felt like you would both argue like a married couple at times. 

You began to feel drowsy, feeling the alcohol beginning to slow you down. Wondering what time it was, you remembered something and began to loosen the watch around your wrist. "I forgot to return—"

"Keep it."

"...You're mad at me."

"I'm not. It's yours now."

And so you secured it back around your wrist. While he assured that he wasn't mad at you, you knew that he didn't approve of what you did. It was reckless, and you intentionally put the entire mission in jeopardy because you couldn't be patient. Your lack in trust towards your teammates was called into question, and that day the CIA could have lost three people.

But, they didn't. It was always the negatives that everyone focused on, not the positives. You found where Adler was, outperforming the CIA's "top cryptographers" once again, managed to take out Stitch's unit and hinder his plans. What more could they want?

You scoot closer to Adler, crossing your arms on his bedside and burrowing your head in them. "I'm sorry."

“It’s fine,” he assured.

Avoiding his gaze, you stare at the wall trying to let the thought of Adler's disappointment bother you. Instead, you feel him place a hand on top of your head, and you close your eyes as you feel his fingers run through your hair, shuddering as he moves it in a combing fashion.

"I'm not a dog, you know," you comment tiredly.

"Well you're not stopping me either."

Despite not doing much recently, Adler found himself becoming exhausted more easily. Having two limbs temporarily out of commission certainly made it harder to move around, but it was the lack of movement that made him bored out of his mind. He wanted to get back to work already to make up for lost time, but everyone denied him the pleasure of doing so, saying that he’ll need to recover before anything else. 

With nothing to do other than signing papers, Adler looked forward to seeing you pop in from time to time while you tell him stories about what had happened that day. He had planned to drop by the meeting room for a couple of drinks, but he found himself preoccupied with you instead, your own sleepiness rubbing off of him.

You were about to drift off when you felt Adler’s hand leave and the sound of the lamp turning off. He nudges you awake. Opening your eyes slowly, you found that Adler had pushed himself farther into the bed, holding up the blankets to reveal an open space beside him. 

“Hop in.”

Too tired to decline, you slip under the covers with him, pulling the sheets over your shoulders. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you unconsciously moved a bit closer to him, and Adler couldn't help but chuckle to himself as you did.

"Shouldn't we go join the others?" you query.

"Can't. Doctors said no drinking."

"Ah. I hope you well get soon then."

Adler does a double take. "You mean, 'I hope you get well soon'?" he corrects.

"That's what I said."

"God, how many shots did you take?"

You felt usually daring today, the alcohol going to your head. Your hand shoots up to his head. His naturally styled hair became tousled as you played with it between your fingers. It felt soft and lush like you expected. "Enough to get where I'm at now."

“So, we’re speaking Russian now?”

In the darkness, you could make Adler's expression. It was peaceful, the corners of his eyes slightly lifted as his lips were upturned in a barely noticeable, yet tender, smile. His eyes watched you fondly, just taking in your facial features and every little movement they made. It was almost like he was in a trance, and whenever you were around he could just forget everything. The pain would suddenly become a numbing tingle as his heart began to quicken itself each time. 

Love was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and even he had to admit that he was scared of trying to love again. And he could tell you were in a similar situation— not knowing what it felt like to be loved.

"Russian is considered a romantic language, you know," you point out, pulling your hand away.

The feeling Adler got every time he looked at you came with the urge to protect you, wanting to keep you out of harm's way. But in reality, it felt like you were the one protecting him, doing all the dirty work behind the scenes just for the sake of it. Yet, you were unwavering, and it was alarming. 

"Last time I checked, it’s not. You're just saying that cause you like hearing me speak it."

You gave him a meek grin. “Smartass.”

Reflecting on it, Adler didn't know much about you. 

Judging from previous missions, you've become long desensitized to a point where you had no issue dealing with the enemy in the way you had done two weeks ago, and it made him wonder what kind of other shit you went through before having the luck of meeting him. But, to see you act in such an affectionate way was something new, as you played a relentless, yet dependable, soldier on the job.

If there's one thing he did know, it was that he wanted to spend the rest of his days working alongside you. When he, and if he will, retire, Adler knew that he wanted to take you back to his hometown and show you around. Live together as civilians, take you out for dinner, maybe even rent a fancy sports car and speed down the highway near some scenic beach during sunset. It was a cheesy thought, but it was something he looked forward to, and he didn't plan to die until he did.

Lost in thought, he brings his hand up to your chin. 

"I never really did thank you for Nantucket, did I?" he murmurs, switching back to English. Hearing Adler's gravelly voice in such close proximity made you melt.

"No, not really." 

"Close your eyes then."

"Why-"

"Close."

And so you obliged. 

Darkness overtook your vision, and you strained yourself to listen carefully. You heard the sheets ruffling, and Adler moved his hand to cup your cheek, the roughness of his palms ticking your skin. Your heart began to race, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you waited for Adler to commit to what he planned.

Getting impatient, you were about to speak up and snap your eyes open but you felt something press against your lips gently.

The kiss was soft and surprisingly chaste. You could detect the wistfulness behind it, and it brought up a mix of emotions. His lips were different from what you had imagined. They were plump and smooth, almost luscious on its own. Rather fitting for a suave man of his nature, yet it gave you an entirely new, exclusive experience.

Eventually, Adler recedes back, pulling away, but you could still a tingling impression left on your slightly parted lips. You failed to form any words, and instead your eyes fluttered back open. 

The look he gave you made you tear up. His eyes were half lidded, and there was a sense of longing behind those ocean blue eyes of his, telling you that he had been waiting to convey his feelings in this way for the longest time. It just made you defenseless, knowing that there was someone like Adler that actually loved the monster that you had made yourself out to be.

You thought back to a couple weeks back, remembering his unconscious form and a strange sense of dread fell upon you. An image flashed in your mind, your blood-stained hands shaking as they hovered over his beaten face. Someone was trying to pull you away from him, shouting at you in indecipherable words.

Adler was fine now, but you couldn't help but sob, the delayed sense of impending doom now finally kicking in after two weeks.

A tear rolled down your cheek, wetting the pillow underneath you, and you immediately tried to wipe your eyes before more followed. 

"Sorry, I-I don't know what's come over me," you stammer, shuddering as you try to catch your breath. “Just give me a moment.”

"You want to talk about it?"

“No, it’s fine,” you try to assure him.

Adler wasn’t having any of it. He couldn’t just lie idly aside and let it pass, especially with you tearing up about it. “Talk to me, Bell.” 

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. "It's just… When Woods informed us that you were missing, I-I got so fucking scared. I worked with Stitch before, and..."

"I'm here now."

"I know, but… Just you, tied up in some chair in some unknown place, him inflicting whatever vengeance he had against you… I was confident that you were alive, but then I thought: what if I never found you? What if I was wrong, and you were never there? The thought of just discovering your body—"

"[Y/N]," Adler cuts you off. "I haven't seen you in two weeks and the last thing I want for you to do is cry. Even more so if it's because of me."

"I—"

"It's in the past now. You did what you thought was best. It was fucking stupid, but it's the reason why we're able to have this conversation today. As much as I hate to admit it, your impulsiveness saved my ass. But, as your superior, and your boyfriend, don’t you dare pull shit like that again, got it?”

“...Okay,” you assent. Adler always had a way with words, although forthright, but it never failed to comfort you.  

He nods in affirmation. “Good.”

You both gaze at each other wordlessly amidst the darkness. The light that seeped under the doors gave you the dim outline of his form, and you could see his chest rising and falling in a steady pace. Adler lied there calmly, listening to you ease yourself down into hiccups. He wanted to embrace you, but his injuries prevented him from doing so, and it pained him.

“...We didn’t do anything for your birthday, did we?” you inquire through receding hiccups. “Or that thing. Valentine’s was it?”

“You and I? No. You weren’t here.” 

A pang of guilt hits you. “Shit… I, uh— Park had to bring me back to the U.K. for a couple days due to… complications.”

Adler hums for a bit, thinking. His birthday was nothing special of sort, but the rest of the crew was eager to celebrate it, especially with his return. They held a drinking session, similar to the one tonight, but he could only sip on water and non-alcoholic juices.

“Tell you what,” he begins a bit eagerly. “Since we’re both on leave, how about we take a trip back to my hometown?”

“Where’s that at?”

“It’s a secret, you’ll find out later.” He could hear you scoff in amusement. “You can stay at my house, where the bed is actually big enough for the both of us. I’ll drive you around, show you the tourist attractions—”

“You can’t drive with your arm like that,” you snicker.

“Fine, you can drive. Just don’t scratch it. Anyways, you’ll drive us around, and we can eat at this nice restaurant that’s close by. I know the owner, so we can get a good deal. There’s a nice view in their outdoor seating area, and their wine is pretty decent.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Hey!” Adler retorts in offense. “Not everyone’s idea of a romantic getaway is infiltrating an old military base. Let me have this for once.”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He gives you a peck on the forehead. “But until then, you need to sleep, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

You nuzzle yourself into the crook under Adler’s chin, and you could feel his arm curve underneath and wrap around your unbandaged hand. You slowed your breathing down to match Adler’s as he rubbed gentle circles in your palms, and you counted each rotation, just trying to fight off sleep. You wanted to stay awake and cherish the moment, but the distant music from the party persisted, the muffled beats slowly pulling you into a light slumber. 

"Я тебя люблю,” you mumble as you drift off, your fingers losing its grip around his.

"I love you too.”

Adler kisses your forehead once again, before following you into a good night sleep.

[hard-to-be-the-bard]

Bucky X Modern!Reader

“

Tbh i’m probably gonna make this a series if you all like it :) let me know if you want a part 2

Warnings: Violence, Language, Torture

You stayed at Stark tower because you were useful, and because it would be dangerous to allow you to be let loose on your own

You had stumbled into the Marvel Universe on pure coincidence, and you had no idea how. Tony had given ideas of space rifts and time loops, but that made no sense to you

Nick Fury wanted you to keep you there so he could use what you knew, about major events, after all, you knew their future

But you refused to speak, you’d seen what had happened when their timelines had been altered before, and you didn’t want to be the cause of anything happening

So you let things play out the natural way

You’d arrived shortly after Ultron

It turns out however, this universe was slightly different to the one you knew

Because Bucky was living at the tower

He’d stayed at the end of what should of been the Winter Soldier, and was going through therapy processes while Tony worked on his arm

You were what you could call friends

Being that he would smile at you when you entered a room, offering a hello, and engaging in small talk

Bucky liked to keep to himself, and you respected that, the man had been through a lot

Bucky knew you were from a different reality, and knew you knew about his past

You’d helped him fill in a few blanks here and there if he was desperate, and he always seemed surprised when you did something you knew he’d enjoy

He told you you knew him better than himself

Which was true in a way

His memories still not fully recovered, and when you were in your world, you’d already had a small crush on the man

It seemed it only grew here

You liked him, a lot, it was almost painstakingly obvious, Steve knew, he’d asked you about it after seeing you leave Bucky’s room after calming him from a nightmare

You didn’t think anyone else knew, but then again, you were living with the Avengers, so it wouldn’t be a surprise

On top of living with them, you were made to take part in training, they wanted you to be ready in case anything did happen

And you were glad you’d done so

It turned out it was just S.H.I.E.L.D who knew about you HYDRA did too.

And you’d managed to let them get to you

And Bucky too

You’d both been alone, the avengers out on a mission, and Bucky wasn’t passed for all missions yet, just smaller ones. So he’d been with you for the day, watching films together on the sofa.

When the power went out

You’d frowned, trying to talk to JARVIS to see what was happening, but there was no response

But Tony had said JARVIS was on a different power source, in case of an electrical failure

Meaning that this wasn’t a normal power cut

You’d informed Bucky as such, and he looked at you, brow furrowed, before pulling you up, taking you towards his room, which was luckily, on the same floor, he opened the door, gesturing you in before closing it

“Doll-” He starts softly, not knowing what to say

“If this, if this is a break in, we have your phone that’s it, and if there’s no signal we have no way to contact the others, or even know if they’ll pick up-” He takes a deep breath in before walking to his wardrobe, moving some things before dragging out a case

“I know you know how to use a gun sweetheart” He says, as he unlocks it, revealing a range of guns, from smaller hand guns to larger ones

“I taught you myself” He says, picking up a glock 26 and pressing it into your hands, along with a box of ammo, he moved to the side of his bed, pulling out a waist belt, with a pocket on the side handing it to you

“Saves you carrying the ammo around, more room to point and shoot” He barely whispers, and you notice his hands shaking ever so slightly

It’s then you hear the loud bang at the end of the hallway, and Bucky freezes, looking up, before clasping your head in his hands

“Doll, listen to me now, I know you have no experience with this, but, no matter what happens, your main goal is getting off this floor, and outside, okay, call Steve, Tony anyone, but you need to keep yourself alive for me” He practically begs, and you begin to tear up

“Bucky I-” But you don’t finish another loud bang echoing, closer this time, and Bucky opens another door in his room you didn’t know he had

“Through here” He motions, taking you through the door, locking it behind you.

He stops, looking at you once more

“Doll I’m gonna have to leave you soon” He says and you frown staring at him

“W-What why? We can go together” You plead, and he shakes his head

“I need to take care of this sweetheart” He says, taking you down the corridor, pushing you towards the stairwell

“Go” He demands, and you falter for a brief second before whispering

“Don’t get yourself killed” And he smiles for a moment before turning on his heel, gun in hand

And you take it as a cue to leave, running down the steps, and you keep going until you hear footsteps, and you freeze, lifting the gun slightly, before seeing a closet and ducking inside, turning the lock behind you

Quickly you pulled out your phone, sighing in relief when you saw it had signal, and shakily to typed out a text message

Tower compromised. Come Quickly. 

And you copied in everybody, before attempting to call Tony

But it goes straight to voicemail and you curse, before hitting Steve’s name, hearing footsteps come closer

And thank god he picks up

“Hey, y/n, what’s wrong i’m just in the middle of-” You cut him off, voice shaky

“S-steve you have to come back, there, there’s some people in the tower, the powers gone, and Bucky’s upstairs somewhere, I--” You almost drop the phone at the sound of gunfire and you hear Steve curse, shouting to Tony

“Hey doll, take a deep breath, where are you?” He asks, and you tell him

“A closet, on the 6th floor” You whisper, before hearing footsteps again, and he speaks

“You got a weapon?” He asks, and you tell him yes and he lets out a sigh of relief

“We’re on our way back, 10 mins tops, don’t worry doll, nothings gonna happen to you I promise” He says

But he speaks to soon

Because the next second the door is caved in, and you have two guns pointed at your head, the phone slides out of your grasp as one of the large men grab you, shoving you forward with their gun

Steve’s still on the phone, and he heard the door cave

“Doll? You there? Y/N?” He calls, and one of the men picks up the phone

“You know where to find us” Is all he says before hanging up.

Steve feels his blood run cold, as Tony looks at him, panic in his eyes

“What’s going on?” He asks, and Steve can barely speak

“They have her” He whispers, and Natasha’s head shoots up, cursing softly

“Tony we have to go faster” He urges, and he shakes his head

“I would if I could, but I physically can’t” He says

You wake up in the dark, arms bent painfully around your back, zip tied together, and then bound with thicker rope, you tugged sharply, giving up once the plastic cut into your wrists, knowing it was no use. You sniffled letting out a curse

Then you heard a voice call out

“Doll?” It asked, soft and unsure, and your head shoots up

“Bucky?” You respond and you hear him sigh

“Shit doll, are you hurt?” He asks, and you feel the throbbing at the back of your head from where you’d probably been knocked out

“I think I’m okay” You whispered, before saying

“I called Steve, he knows” And you hear Bucky move against his restraints

“Good job sweetheart” You think he’s about to say more but the door swings open, light flooding in, and you squinted, your eyes adjusting, before you opened them and you finally saw Bucky, his head low, eyes watching you

And he saw the bruises, and he winced, how did you think you weren’t hurt. Unless you were in shock he thought, staring at the already formed purple angry splotches along your chin and cheekbone

You stared at him, eyes teary and he felt his heart break.

You could die here

And he wouldn’t be able to save you

The man who entered a room pulled out a chair, siting on it to face you

“Now, Miss l/n, this can go two ways, either. you tell me what I want to know and no one gets hurt. Or, we hurt you, a lot” He says, and you frown at him

“I don’t know anything” You say, confused but the man tuts

“I think you do, what I want to know, is, a certain string of phrases, 10 words, to be precise, and I think you know just what I’m talking about” And you freeze, because you do, and even Bucky stops, knowing exactly what he’s talking about, his eyes narrowing in confusion

But how would you know, you didn’t work for HYDRA.

And then it hit him, you would know, you knew everything about him, which included those words

“I-” You stumble, you weren’t going to tell them, you couldn’t

“Go to hell” You spat, and the man sighed, and Bucky stared at you

“Well then, it looks like you’re going to be hurt” He says, and signals to someone, and a tall looming man steps over, walking towards you, fist raised

“Do what you must” He says

And the man descends upon you

You didn’t know when you lost consciousness, but you did know that Bucky was screaming the second you woke, and you felt a fist connect with your jaw again.

And your body writhed in agony

Bucky begging for them to stop

“Doll it’s alright, just say it, it’s okay” He pleads, and you realised he was screaming because of you, not because he was being hurt, and you frowned, barely able to shake your head before you let out a soft no

And that was all it took for the man to start again, but he was bored of this approach, hauling over a large black bucket, water sloshing over the edge, and you knew what was going to happen

So did Bucky

“You’ll kill her!” He begged, screaming at you to just tell them, but you shook your head

And he pushed it under the water

You came back up grasping for air, shaking at the coldness of it, and that was when the door opened

Steve in the doorway, shield raised, and a look you’d never seen before on his face

It was almost feral

And his shield connected with the man’s neck and he fell to the ground, and you heard Bucky’s cries

“Get her Steve, get her” He says, and you feel your head being lifted up, Steve looking at you, concern on his face as he muttered apologies, and you felt the rope binding you loosen, and the pain in your arms prickling as you finally gained the ability to move them, and you collapsed into Steve’s arms

Soon Bucky had ran over to your side, his arms wrapping around you, tugging you from Steve’s grasp, who passed you over as Bucky cradled you

“You’re okay doll, you’re okay” He mumbles into your forehead, but you’re not sure who’s he’s trying to reassure, and you’re just so tired

And then your vision turns black

You wake up in a hospital

A soft beeping in your ear, and the scratchy noise tickling sterile smell

You notice an IV drip in your arm and you frown, reaching out to tug out the invasive needle, when a hand grasps your wrist gently

“You need that darling” A voice croaks, and you turn your head to see Bucky, puffy eyed, and looking tired, his eyes red from crying

“H-Hey buck” You whispered, your throat sore, and words appearing scratchy

He smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and you frown, pressing a hand against his cheek

“Come on, I know you got a better one than that in you” You joke, and he laughs, before starting to cry

And you’d never seen something so heart-breaking, it sounded wrong, the breathy gasps that escaped his throat, and it was gut wrenching, and you hated it

“Hey don’t cry, I don’t look that bad do I” You chuckle, and he looks at you

“You nearly died doll” He whispered, and you pause, had you

“You technically did, your heart stopped, they didn’t think you’d, I-” He takes in a deep breath and you frown softly

“I’m okay though” You say, hand still on his face

“Look I’m alive” You offer, and he shakes his head

“I never should of left you doll” He mumbles, and you shake your head

“Don’t you dare blame yourself James Buchanan Barnes” You state, and he looks up at the use of his full name, about to protest

“Don’t argue with me” You whisper, and pat his cheek, shifting in your bed, before wincing

“Doll-” He begins, looking worried but you waved it away

“How bad do I look?” You joke and Bucky looked down, and you frowned

“Buck?” You asked, and he looked like he was gonna cry again

“Doll I’m sorry, they, you’re gonna have some scars, and a lot of bruising for a while” He whispers, and you nod slightly

“At least you’re okay” You say, and he shakes his head

“Me? Doll you’re the one who nearly- and you’re worried about me?” He asks incredulously, and you nod

“I just- you’re not, mad about me knowing” You ask, and he knows what you’re talking about, but he shakes his head

“Doll, I trust you” He mumbles, and he looked like he was about to say something else when the others burst into the room 

[itsmespicaa]

Regrets

Summary: A deeper look into Cassandra Cain's life after the Anti-Life virus struck the whole Universe and her interactions with her family.

(Alternatively: Cass gets the hugs she deserves in DCeased)

Note: The art I drew for this fic is here.

Read this on AO3

There was no time to lose.

There was still so much...life in this building. So much to protect. Cassandra is beyond glad they‘ve all decided to stay—these children...are not like her. Or Jason. Or even Gordon-

"Jim," he sighed, wistful and...sad. Eyes briefly lost in what was no doubt a shrapnel of memory that cuts and pricks deep into your chest, pushed aside to focus on the present—to survive—no matter how painful it digs into your soul. She understood. He glanced at her and smiled. "Jim’s fine, Cass. We’re all family, right?”

These children needed them, and...perhaps a part of her needed them too. They all needed each other now, one way or another.

Nights are...the worst.

Sleep has never come naturally for her, even before...everything. Before their whole world fell apart. She was not unfamiliar with loss, but this- there was no time to mourn or- or even breathe. No time to look back and realize just how much was taken from them.

Survive. Move forward. Survive, kill, survive. Keep each other safe.

Her mantra—the only thing that mattered now.

She did not allow herself to think of Barbara‘s kind eyes, or the last time she heard Dick laughing in the manor. She did not think of the fistbump she shared with Tim on their last patrol together.

She did not allow herself to think about Bruce, of the comforting weight on her shoulder after another successful night a few days ago. An easy night—quick and simple. So...different from the nights now that her chest ached and ached-

Nor did she allow herself to think about Stephanie, who wasn't even supposed to be in Gotham now. Her mother too...surely...?

(But Batman was supposed to be invincible, and yet, and yet—)

No. No time to look back. No time for hope or questions with no answers.

Nights are the worst.

Beyond the stillness of the night, beyond the quiet of the sleeping children...the monsters lurk and scream. She could hear them, clear as day—sleep did not come to them...so nor would she.

Instead, she sat in a corner—not too close that she could be spotted instantly, but close enough to aide should anything happen—silent and watchful over the children now in her care. It soothed her, seeing them so peaceful. Their innocence not yet fully stolen from them.

A night without one of them waking up from a nightmare was all that she asked for.

"Cass."

She did not turn to the voice. As she waited, her brother finally came to sit beside her, knees drawn up to his chest as if to mimic her.

On a better day, she would‘ve smiled at this.

She didn't smile.

"You really should rest," murmured Jason after a while. "I‘ll watch over them tonight. We need to be in tip top condition if we plan on protecting them."

Facing him, face impassive, she signed: You? Sleep?

A huff, eyes dim. "Touché."

They sat there, side by side, watching the faces of those more vulnerable than them for a long time, the noise from beyond the walls momentarily cut out as her focus zeroed in on the children.

"I buried them," said Jason suddenly, breaking the fragile peace. Cass does not stop, doesn‘t have to ask who he meant.

"I should‘ve told you sooner, but with everything going on..."

Words were never her allies, and they weren't one now. Cass swallowed the lump growing in her throat, along with whatever words she was about to say.

I know, she touched her cheeks twice instead, trusting in her brother to see it.

Jason definitely noticed, because the next moment he was slowly wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Like a puppet cut loose from its string, Cass melted into his side, finally allowing herself a small moment to just-

Mourn.

She and Jason were never as close as her and Tim, but they understood one another, possibly better than most in the family. They would spent rare moments reading together in the manor‘s library, comfortably co-existing. Now-

No more words were spent that night, the two of them silently supporting each other as they accept their new reality. She did not move to wipe the few drops of tears tracking down her cheeks, and Jason said nothing.

How cruel is it that the ones to survive are the people who had touched death before?

...Damian? Alfred? Her hand moved as she looked at him, mouth pressed in a thin line. The only ones left. And their youngest sibling. The expression that reflected back at her was just as grim, but the lines on his face were noticeably lighter, and Cass can tell from the loose grip on her shoulder—from the set of his jaw that it was not a bad news.

"Both are still alive in Metropolis last I checked yesterday," he said, fingers picking at a loose strand on his jacket—nervous, "and hopefully they’re with other heroes too. I...try not to check too often. Gotta save the energy of the car, y‘know?"

And I‘m scared to know, was unspoken, but she heard it. Saw the fear in his creases, the anxiety in his sunken eyes.

The regret.

Cassandra understood. There were regrets she would have to live with now too.

She nodded, looking back at the children again. A sense of tranquility finally settling in her chest, the anguish she felt not completely extinguished...but there was only so much she could bear at a time. These children are her priorities now, her new family, and...

Little brother, she tugged and signed at Jason before resting a hand on his back. "Keep you safe," she emphasized each words, tugging on his red hoodie—now splattered in different shades of red.

That...startled a laugh out of him. A small quirk of lips, but Cass saw it as what it is and beamed too, subdued as it was.

"I don‘t know about me being the younger brother," he chuckled softly, "but I'm glad I have a kick-ass sister like you. I have your back too, Cass. Always."

She would not lose any more of her family if she could help it. New or old.

Even if she had to sacrifice herself.

Her mother. She was-

Cassandra watched as the children exit the bus and can’t help the bittersweet smile tugging the edge of her lips.

She was a hero.

In the very end, she died a hero. Protecting the life of innocents and...her family.

Her heart felt too heavy to maintain it however, and after making sure all the surviving children are accounted for and comfortably settled in their new home, she wandered over to the newly chiseled statue the Green Guardian—Ivy had bestowed upon them as a token of respect. A gift.

She stood before the likeness of her mother, her last moments playing over her mind like a broken cassette.

Her eyes burned and she blinked, rapidly.

"Hey."

The white-haired lady. Moved with quiet grace almost as good as her. Almost.

She nodded back in lieu of a reply.

"Complicated parent issues?"

"...Yes."

A sigh. "Same."

They stood there, side by side, both lost in thought as they gazed upon the legacy their parents have left.

"Despite everything..." whispered Rose, "We still love and miss them, don‘t we?"

"She was...not a good mother," began Cass, trying to find the right words to describe the turmoil of emotions warring within her. "But she loved me. And I...loved her. In the end...that‘s all that matters."

A curt nod. "I get it. Really.

"I know loss is inevitable now," continued Rose, hand seemingly wanting to reach out before pulling back abruptly, "but...I‘m sorry you had to see that yourself. I‘m here if you want to uh- talk and all that. Or even just my company."

Cass was...touched. It was a sweet gesture, considering they haven‘t had much time to get to know each other before arriving here.

Smiling quietly at her, she pointed at herself and signed: Conversation. Not good. Rose‘ sign language skill isn‘t on par with hers or Jason, but it’s enough.

She smiled back, laughter in her voice: "So we won‘t have to speak. I can be a good listener when I need to be."

At that moment, Cass decided she liked this girl. Suddenly grateful to have her here—that her brother had her too.

It was probably that thought that prompted her to get her attention, her hands moving quickly: You. Jason. Happy?

Surprisingly, that brought on a small blush on Rose‘s already rosy cheeks, and Cass‘ smile widened.

"We- haven‘t made it official or anything but...yeah. Yeah, I think we are." Rubbing the back of her neck, bashful eyes cast downwards in a rare show of vulnerability, she reminded her so much of Stephanie that she had to bite down her lips to keep it from wobbling.

Instead she gave her the warmest grin she could muster, focusing on the person in front of her now. "Good," she said, before pulling her in for an earnest hug.

For a while Rose just stood there, letting Cass do all the work—but then she grasped her back just as tightly, finally realizing that the hug was for Cass herself as much as it is for her.

They both lost their parent, now truly orphans like everyone else, and Cassandra‘s...grateful she wasn‘t alone for this.

"I see you two are bonding already," came a familiar voice.

Lo and behold, Jason appeared from behind them with a smirk. He and Rose exchanged a look and before he even turned to her, Cass already knew what he was about to do.

She returned her brother‘s embrace, accepting it for what it was. I‘m sorry, his body screamed—sad, sad, sad. Sad for...her.

Standing toe to toe, he dwarfed her in comparison, and Cass was all of a sudden struck with the memory of the last time she hugged their father (Bruce, not Cain. Never Cain.) A sharp twinge of pain swiped at her chest, a simple wish that...she could‘ve hugged her mother too.

Physical affection did not come easy to Jason either, but Cass knew he was tired of regretting, tired of letting people go when everything you loved could be taken from you at any moment and...she felt the same.

Regrets seem to be the only constant in their life now.

After pulling away with a playful shove, she pointed at Jason then Rose, tapping her two 'K' hands together. Take care of her. She glared pointedly at Jason for a few seconds before her face broke into a smirk.

A cheer of laughter erupted from the three of them at Jason‘s indignant 'Of course!' sign.

It was definitely the highlight of her day.

---

Weeks later, when night fell and the world ran a little slower, Cassandra watched over them all as she always had.

Her small family is safe now—her brother and sister-in-law somewhere outside of prying eyes but still near enough for her to reach (Jason had reassured her himself). The marriage itself was nothing as fancy as the movies she watched with Tim and Steph had shown, but it was...festive. Magical. Beautiful. Ivy had gifted them with beautiful garlands and flower chains that grew from the earth, vibrant roses uncurling at every corner to celebrate their union—a symbol of hope that could flourish amidst the dreariness of their reality.

The sheer joy she felt and saw from the two newlyweds was enough to assuage her constant state of alertness. She kissed both of their cheeks and hugged them close, lips pulled wide on the happiest moment she had felt in a very long time, a comfortable warmth curling in her chest. Their happiness was infectious.

Yet now—

"You should rest, kid."

She wasn‘t the only one restless.

"...Jim. Rough...night?"

A puff of cigarette. "Something like that."

Silence reigned over the living garden, the stars above brighter than it had ever been.

"You were close with my daughter?" asked the Commissioner all of a sudden.

"...Yes." Her reply was careful—while time had done its magic, a balm to gaping wounds on the soul, their memories of Barbara were still fresh on both of their minds. It still...hurt, and no doubt even more so for him. "She was my...mentor. She was like...like a..." Mother, she did not say. Before Shiva, before Bruce truly stepped into his role as a father.

But Jim picked it up nonetheless, nodding to himself. "Good. That‘s- really good."

For once, she genuinely wondered what the aim of their conversation was.

"We might not be close, Cassandra," he watched the puff of smoke that formed around him, casual and honest, "but you‘re Batman‘s daughter, and my daughter...knowing her, she undoubtedly loved you too like one. So that's more than enough to make you family."

Nodding, already connecting those particular dots together, she tilted her head. And?

"And I would do anything to keep my family safe," he turned to her, pain in his eyes reflected in her own. "But you understand that more than anyone else, don‘t you?"

Cass looked away, his intention finally dawning upon her.

"I- don‘t want to lose them too," she whispered to no one, her fear carried over in the silence of the night, the huge vines and trees providing a shelter from the horrific wailing of the monsters lurking just outside the garden walls.

They‘re the only ones I have left, she did not say.

Instead of a reply, Jim squeezed her shoulder in solidarity.

Cass is eternally grateful he did not try to console her with empty words.

"SHAZAM!"

Electricity and raw, undiluted power surged through her, tingling in her veins with the telltale sign of ancient magic.

Fury. White, hot blistering fury.

She did not waste a blink at the corpse now lying beneath her, eyes already roaming to find Jason who- no.

No.

Rose knelt beside him, sobs rocking her frame, every inch of her body screaming pure sorrow and Cassandra reached out, denial on the tip of her tongue- before a hand stopped her.

Damian.

Now an adult, creases wrinkling his forehead so much like his father. He shook his head, still gripping her arm and unwilling to let go. Cass could push him away despite his strength, especially with her newfound powers, but—but she didn‘t.

Cassandra Cain, blood daughter of Lady Shiva and David Cain, adoptive daughter of the Batman, fell to her knees and hung her head in her palms, holding back the agony clawing at her inside out. Hollow, hollow, empty.

No.

She promised-

What good was all this power if she couldn‘t even save her own family?

No tears came forth despite the stabbing wound in her chest, an ugly rage building up in the back of her throat, threatening to lash out with the pulsing energy in her fingers.

"Cass," Damian‘s soft plea snapped her out of her haze of red and self-destruction, and she finally looked at him, truly looked at him—his locked jaws, the tremble masking his own shock and anger, and- she blinked, vision clearing. Stopped.

Nothing could bring him back. Not her anger, nor revenge.

She stood up to her full height, Damian on her elbow, and locked eyes with Constantine standing right across from them, hoping the daggers she sent him from her gaze alone is enough to convey the amount of hatred she felt at that moment and floated over to Rose, her cape billowing behind her.

Someone else needed her now—move now, mourn later. Rinse and repeat.

---

The last remnants of warmth lingered in Jason‘s crushed body as she gingerly carried him out of the pocket dimension, and Cass felt her resolve weakening for a brief second, her powers slipping and she- nearly dropped to the ground. No one noticed, everyone lost in their own thoughts at what had transpired in so little time.

Her grip tightened.

Flying over to an area she knew was designated for the ones who...passed, she laid him down as gently as she could, brushing away a strand of hair on his forehead with light fingers, despite how heavy it felt to lift them. Wiped away the blood on his face with care, her movements mechanical like the time she had to dress a corpse of a dead boy they had failed to save.

Then she waited.

And waited.

Jason wouldn‘t want to be by himself. All alone.

She sat there, waiting.

When Rose finally dropped noiselessly beside her, Cass stood up and walked away, giving them the privacy they deserved. Ignored the silent tears wrecking the younger woman, and the instinctive need to console and support her.

Let her grieve, she reminded herself.

Her youngest brother stood behind a large boulder just outside the area, gaze pointedly directed at the ground.

"Cassandra."

She stopped right by him, shoulder to shoulder, facing the opposite direction. Waited.

His fist clenched tightly, teeth scrapping harshly against each other- "If I had known this would happen, I would never have—"

Gloved fingers grasped his shoulder tightly, and his mouth clicked shut.

"Please. Do not blame yourself," she murmured, calm and quiet, so unlike the weight dragging her down to the earth, burying her under. The magic that coursed through the blood, singing and wild, untamed as the raging sea.

Her fingers trembled.

She did not cry.

"I wish...I wish I could have talked with him more before. Know this Jason better," spoke Damian again after a long pause. It was an admission, hushed, voice laced with a regret so potent, it was impossible to dismiss.

So much regrets. Always. Always, always.

Finally, he turned to her with his cowl taken off, the pain in his eyes open for the world to see, for her to see, and she-

"I‘m so sorry, Cass," he whispered, broken, "I‘m so sorry."

Maybe it was his understanding, the honesty a huge contrast from the young, haughty boy who would hide his emotions behind a wall of anger and righteousness all those years ago. Or maybe it was the way his hand hovered beside him, a language as natural to her as breathing itself. Whatever it was...it unraveled the last string keeping her together, and she—

Not again.

Somewhere between then and the ground, her mask had been pulled down, and Cassandra finally let the weight in her heart crush her soul to dust, Damian‘s arms somehow around her and holding her close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her tears creating a wet patch on his shoulder.

It was so tempting to call upon thunderstorms and lightning to put an end to all their suffering, an end to the anti-life once and for all—but she didn‘t. That was not their mission. Instead she let her eyes run dry, heaving quiet sobs into her brother.

The last two siblings held each other, grief and sorrow amplifying the desperation Cass felt growing within her.

It was a necessary sacrifice, she would know later.

But all she felt then was the despair of losing another family. The only one she had since their whole world turned upside down.

Damian was a solid weight that kept her grounded, and she was...thankful. Rose deserved to be supported now, rather than have another mess of emotions thrown onto her lap after all.

She felt her not-so-little brother bury himself into her shoulder and knew he needed this too.

It wasn't fair. It wasn’t fair.

...but nothing was.

Later, they would give Jason a proper burial. Later, they would be there carve the loving words of the life their brother had led. They would pay their respects, just as he did for their late father and brothers in the cave.

Later, they would continue to fight for humanity.

But for now-

"Damian," her voice cracked, too soft, too strained even for her ears. "I‘ll keep you safe. I promise."

A finality. An oath.

Not just to herself, but to Jason—whom she had failed. To their father, who entrusted the Bat mantle to the both of them, in his own ways. If it meant him surviving...

Damian froze and she knew what he wanted to say: Please don‘t make promises you can‘t keep.

But he didn‘t. Instead, he breathed out just as solemnly, the timbre of his voice octaves lower than it was a lifetime ago:

"...Right back at you, Cass."

[hellsenthero]

Indistinct | Chapter 5

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X FemReader

As a shapeshifter you’ve done some heavy spy work, jobs that no one else is capable of. It’s what you’re used to but it’s no longer where you’re needed for. Now after years of working solo SHIELD has assigned you as part of the Avengers and it’s there that you’ll face your most difficult times. But maybe with the help of a certain dark haired, blue eyed super soldier that you have a history with, things won’t be so bad...right?

Indistinct Masterlist: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | < Chapter 5 > | Chapter 6 | (Series in complete.) 

Main Masterlist

Warnings/Themes: Violence, language, fluff, angst. (2.6K Words)

**********

Since joining the avengers Y/N had been on a few missions. Nothing too big and nothing that required more than two partners. If the shapeshifter’s mind had been more focused on it then she’d be insulted that she wasn’t getting bigger missions, but just like the Winter Soldier her mind was on other matters. 

Sitting in her room Y/N flicked through movies on her television in search of something suitable for both her and Bucky. 

“Hey doll,” Bucky greeted as he walked into Y/N’s room, a tray of drinks and snacks in hand. 

Doll. It was a pet name that had just slipped out of Bucky’s mouth one day. While it was said completely by accident neither Bucky nor Y/N found an issue with it. And after seeing the just barely visible shy glance Y/N had shared with him the first time he said it Bucky made a vow to keep using the pet name. 

To tease her. Bucky told himself. To tease her like friends do. 

“Hey,” Y/N greeted back as she shifted over in her bed in order to make room for Bucky. Though recently she’d noticed the soldier, no matter how much space he was given, would always sit in a way that left them touching. 

Not that Y/N minded.

“Find a movie yet?” Bucky asked as he got into bed. 

“No,” Y/N huffed. The woman passed the remote to Bucky, a silent command for him to pick the movie. 

“Right, let’s do this then.” He said, clicking on the first movie he saw, which happened to be Brooklyn.

“You picked that for the title.” Y/N said as she reached for her drink.

“No,” Bucky denied, unwilling to tell the shifter that he had absolutely picked the movie because of its link to his home. 

“Sure,” Y/N answered with a roll of her eyes which were still all white and still as beautiful as ever to Bucky. “Whatever you say, Brooklyn boy.”

Slowly through the movie Y/N and Bucky drifted closer together. Bucky’s arm curled around Y/N before she curled into his chest, her head on his shoulder and mouth inches away from the man’s neck. I’m cold, she told him before focusing back on the movie. It was a lie, and both of them knew it. Bucky could feel the girls hot breath against the crook of his neck, tickling him with pleasure. Their legs intertwined as they realized they craved more contact from the other. 

Soon enough the movie was forgotten about and all they could do was focus on each other.  

“What are we doing, Bucky?” Y/N asked as she looked up at the soldier. Back in her days as his trainer at Hydra never would Y/N have thought that she’d be in this type of scenario with Bucky. 

“I don’t know, doll.” Bucky admitted. His metal hand came to brush against Y/N’s cheek in a soft caress. His touch leaving behind goose bumps across her skin. 

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked with bated breath. Bucky gazed down at her, rolling on the bed so Y/N was beneath him. Propped up on his arms, Bucky made sure to keep his weight off the woman as he looked her over. 

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt butterflies like this. 

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, “do you?” He asked, praying Y/N had the same answer as him. 

“Yes,” Y/N whispered. Gazing at Bucky’s baby blue eyes the shifter tilted her head up just as Bucky lowered his. A breath apart they leaned in and-

And FRIDAY’s voice cackles through the speaker in Y/N’s room, demanding they suit up for a mission before the two can even touch lips. With a groan Bucky pulls back, cheeks flushed he goes back to his spot at Y/N’s side. All’s silent between the two before Bucky finally speaks up. 

“We’ll talk about this later?” He asks as he gets off of Y/N’s bed and makes his way out of her room. 

“Just talk?” Y/N asks with a coy smile as she follows after the soldier. Bucky shakes his head, his lips tilted up in a small smile. 

“Not if I have any say about it, doll.” 

The debrief for the mission happens once everyone is suited up and in the quinjet. Steve stands in the middle of the floor, hands crossed over his chest and he stares at his team. 

“I know this is a surprise mission, but we couldn’t wait on this. A Hydra base was just discovered along the Russian and Ukranian border. We believe they have a large group of civilians,” Steve paused, his head lowering for a moment as a sigh left his lips, “children, about twenty of them. We believe they’ve been taken for experimentation.” Everyone’s breath caught in their throats at Steve’s words, their eyes wide with equal parts shock and disgust. 

“That’s fucked up.” Sam breathed from where he sat. Everyone nodded their heads and Steve for once didn’t bother correcting the man on his foul language. 

Bucky had lost some of his colour at Steve’s words, his mind working at an anxious speed as he thought about all the horrors he went through at Hydra and how those horrors were now being reigned down upon innocent children. Y/N slipped her hand into Bucky’s own from where she sat to his left, her fingers tracing the metal plates in a soothing manner as she saw the man’s panic and anxiety. No one else seemed to notice the shared touch between Bucky and Y/N and the two were all the more thankful for it. 

“We’re going in teams of two to search the base and take out anyone you come across. Once the agents are all down only then do you get the kids out and on this jet and Tony’s.” Everyone nodded along but remained silent, the air thick with tension. “Nat and I are going to take the East side, Sam and Tony in the sky, Y/N and Bucky take West.” Again the jet remained silent. 

Landing at the base came all too soon for Bucky, but the soldier put aside his worries in order to focus on the mission. Y/N could see the wall come up in his mind as they stepped off the jet, protecting him from whatever horrors he might see inside, whatever memories it might drudge up. They shared a look, brief and silent yet it held so much weight, so many unspoken words between them and they knew... if they stuck together, they’d make it out on the other side of this mission. 

It didn’t take long upon entering the base for the team to realize how out-manned they were. Hydra agents filled the underground halls, taking up every empty space available. 

Shoot, kick, doge, punch, grab, shoot, dodge. It truly was like the sea monster Hydra took its name after, with each agent Y/N and Bucky took down two more took their place. 

Sweat dripped down Y/N’s face, dripping into her mouth the acid like taste took over the iron tang from her bloody lip. She didn’t know how long the fight had been going on for but with the heavy exhaustion weighing her down she knew it’d been a while. Bucky fought at her side, his metal fist gleaming in the light like a freshly sharpened blade. Each hit with it took down another against and still more were coming at them. 

“We need to retreat,” Steve’s voice came through Y/N’s comms system. The shifter had only had eyes on the Captain for a short second at landing before she’d lost sight of him and Nat in the throng of Hydra agents. “Everyone get back on the jet, now.” He ordered. Neither Bucky nor Y/N wasted any time upon hearing Steve’s order. Both agents turned and with loaded guns and fists flying, made their way out of the base and back to the jet. 

They were the last to arrive, injured and panting the jet door closed after them just in time before the bullets began hitting the jet. It was almost comical, the small pings that sounded as the bullets hit the exterior of the jet. One after another like gravol hitting a car as it drove along a dirt road the bullets hit them. Tony was on this jet rather than the other, allowing the computer system to fly it rather his own hands he opted for the jet that housed the rest of his team. 

“Tony get us out of here!” Sam growled out. 

“I can’t.” Tony breathed out. 

“What do you mean, I can’t?” Sam fired back. 

It was then that everything went silent. The pinging of bullets coming to a sudden halt, the only sound in the jet to be heard was the team’s heavy breathing. It was almost peaceful, save for the threat that hung about them like a guillotine blade. Y/N stepped closer to Bucky, the soldier doing the same. He was just reaching out to her when a thickly accented male voice spoke through the jets speakers. 

“Good day, Avengers,” the man’s voice came out like a purr, as though the team was a mistress he’d had the pleasure of seducing, “we’ve taken over your ship, but of course, you’ve already come to realize this by now. You know what we want. Give us the Winter Soldier.” Slowly, all eyes turned to Bucky. The soldier hung his head low, knowing that with the situation they were in they had no other option but to follow Hydra’s orders. However, it seemed Steve had known exactly what Bucky was thinking, for he shook his head, his stare locked on his friend. 

“You’re not handing yourself over Bucky.” The soldier looked up, his own head shaking, a silent disagreement with the Captain. “Bucky-” Steve started before he was cut off by the thickly accented voice coming through the jets speakers again. 

“If being stranded here isn’t enough incentive to hand over the Winter Soldier then perhaps I might sweeten the pot.” Chills crawled up Y/N’s spine, her sweat and blood suddenly chilling on her skin at the man’s threat. 

Tony was the first to see it as he stood at the front of the jet. It was his choked off gasp that caught the others attention, bringing them all forward until they were all looking out of the jets glass shield. 

“No,” Bucky gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he stared forward. He was shaking, trembling at the sight before him. They were all shaking. 

Walking into the open field before them was a line of agents, each with a gun in one hand and a struggling child in another. They stopped in a long line before the jet and the Avengers were left facing all twenty children, each with tears pouring down their cheeks and a gun to their heads. 

“You know what we want,” the man spoke again to the team though he directed his next words to the soldier and only the soldier, “you can make this end, Soldat. Just come with us and the others can leave, no violence, no bloodshed. You can even have the kids.” He purred. “Don’t and well…” the man paused and Bucky sucked in a rattling breath, “...these kids’ blood will be on your hands and your hands alone, Soldat. You have thirty seconds to step out of the jet before we start killing.” Y/N looked over to Bucky, who’s hands shook at his sides, his head bent forward as he stared at the jet’s dark floor, away from the childrens crying forms. 

Y/N knew what he was going to do, she knew the soldier would sacrifice himself in order to keep these children and his team safe. It’s what they all would have done. It’s what Y/N would have done, and so, it’s what she did do. 

“Sit down, Bucky.” She spoke softly as Bucky went to the back of the jet, his hand reaching for the button that would lower the door for him to step out. Bucky shook his head as he stood before her, taking a step closer to Y/N as she shook her head at him. 

“Y/N, this is our only option, they want me. I have to go.”

“I know,” Y/N answered, her hands coming to rest on Bucky’s biceps, “they want the Winter Soldier, and they’ll get the Winter Soldier. But they aren’t getting you.” Bucky’s head tilted to the side in question, not understanding the woman’s words until suddenly it hit him head on. He’s eyes grew wide in horror as he stepped towards her, his hands grasping onto her own. 

“Y/N, no, you can’t.” Y/N gave a soft smile back as she looked at Bucky, her eyes roaming over him, her hands reaching for his face in order to trace the lines of his skin, building up the memory of him in her mind. 

She prayed that the memory of him would be enough to keep her warm at night until the end of her time. 

“I hurt you in Hydra,” she began. Tears welled up behind her eyes as she looked at Bucky. “I hurt you and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret that. There’s days that I wish I’d never met you, that I think how better off you’d be without me in your life,” Bucky shook his head frantically at the woman’s words, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks just like Y/N’s, “but I’ve come to realize that this was all meant to be, that we were meant to be,” Y/N stepped further into Bucky, forcing him to take a step back, and another and another until he was pressed against the jets wall, “you’ve done your time, Bucky. You’ve fought your battles and you’ve come out the other side,” Y/N’s hands slipped down from Bucky’s face, her hands reaching for his own, “it’s my time to go to battle now Bucky, for us.” Y/N pressed her lips to Bucky’s in a desperate kiss. Tears slipped down their cheeks as they shared a last moment of love. Their first kiss, and their last. 

It was when Y/N had pulled away from their kiss, that Bucky realized what the woman had done. 

The snap of the cuffs around his wrists and the metal beam along the jet’s wall rang out in the silence between them. And as Y/N stepped back Bucky was filled with a nauseating horror. He shook his head, pulling at the cuffs that held him he looked to the shifter, his gaze pleading with her to let him go. 

She didn’t. She looked to the team, a last goodbye in her gaze. 

“Take care of each other.” Bucky shook his head, small please and no’s spilling from his lips, all intertwined with her name. 

“Y/N, please, don’t do this, please…”

“I love you Bucky.” Y/N’s said softly. It was her final goodbye before she shifted and Bucky was left staring at a carbon copy of himself. 

“Y/N, please, don’t…” he begged. But it was too late. 

With the press of a button Y/N stepped off the quinjet and handed herself over to Hydra. 

----------

Want to be added to this series? Just send in an ask!

Tag List:  @fangirl3247   @bestofbucky   @broco8   @awesomelittlebabydragon   @strangersstranger   @beware-my-thorns

[libsterslobsters]

Friends

Summary: Even after the battle with Thanos, The Winter Soldier's reputation still proceeds him (much to the chagrin of Bucky Barnes), which has a habit of making things more complicated than they need to be. That, on to of the fact that there’s certain question he and the Reader still haven't brought up (most importantly, why did she wait those five years he was gone), equals trouble, and poor Sam doesn't know what hit him.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader (Reader can see bits of the future in visions as well as understand every language)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, insecure Bucky, Sam doesn't deserve any of this, IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T INTERACT!!!

‐------------------------------------------

 The day starts off normally enough. He and Sam are in the training room sparring while she practices her skills with the throwing knives on the opposite side. Bucky’s so involved with his task (Sam may not be enhanced per se, but dammit, he can move fast) that he doesn’t notice that he’s being watched until the sound of someone clearing their throat reaches his ears. On instinct, his head turns towards the noise and that’s when he sees the intruder. A man with an eye patch who looks vaguely familiar.

 “Wilson, Barnes, New Girl-” Sam’s head snaps up and as her final knife sticks in the wall, she studies the man in the eye patch as well. “-get your asses up to the situation room. Meeting in five.” With no further explanation for his presence, the man slips out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

 “Who the hell was that?” He says it more to himself than to the others, but Sam still shoots him a questioning look as they start in the direction of the elevator.

 “You mean you don’t know?” He almost shoots back that he wouldn’t be asking if he did, now would he, but before he can, she falls into step next to him, taking his hand.

 “That’s Nick Fury, Buck. Director of SHIELD back before it went up in flames.”

 “Oh, shit.” Well that certainly explains the vague recollection. Now that he knows who the man is, the whole picture is coming into focus. He remembers him. “I tried to kill him once.”

 Sam doesn’t bother to hide his snicker as they climb into the elevator and it begins to ascend.

 “It was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s gotten over it.” Despite her attempt at reassuring him, Bucky’s fairly certain Nick Fury is the type to hold a grudge.

 That theory is confirmed as soon as they step foot in the situation room and he’s instructed to take a seat against the back wall while the others are offered chairs in front of Fury’s desk. It’s also not lost on him that, no matter how far the former director paces, he always keeps Bucky in his eyeline. So much for bygones being bygones.

 “The president is going on a diplomatic mission and his head of security has requested that we lend him a protection detail.”

 “What’s the location?” Sam’s question is met with a frown.

 “That’s on a need-to-know basis. Everyone who’s involved will find out once you’re in the air.”

 “Still-” Sam tries again. “-we’re not bodyguards for hire. No world leader, no matter what country he’s from, warrants a protection unit consisting of three Avengers.”

 That lone good eye settles on Bucky once more, and he can guess what’s coming next.

 “Not three Avengers. Just two. Falcon and Soothsayer. The Winter Soldier is not required on this particular mission.”

 “Why?” This time, she’s the one speaking up.

 “Why what?”

 “Why Sam and me, not Bucky? Usually Falcon and Winter Soldier are the go-to task force.” He really wishes she hadn’t asked that. There’s no way the answer will make any of them happy.

 “Apart from the fact that you can see the future and speak every language flawlessly upon hearing it as well as having super soldier capabilities-” Here it comes. “-the president’s head of security felt that Sergeant Barnes is too volatile to act as an asset in this instance.”

 “Bullshit. Barnes is a seasoned combat veteran who’s received special training that allows him to operate seamlessly under any set of circumstances. I’m more likely to lose my shit than he is.” If only he were sitting closer, he could take her hand, try to silently communicate that he’s okay, this is just part of having his particular past, she doesn’t have to go to war for him.

 Fury crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I don’t know how much plainer I can make it. Your boyfriend’s services are not required. End of story.”

 “And if I choose not to accept this mission?” Sam shoots him a look that clearly says, “Is she really arguing with Nick Fury?” Bucky’s torn between being astounded himself and trying not to laugh at how shocked Fury looks.

 “If you chose to disobey direct orders, then you are no longer an Avenger.” He can sense where this is going to go, so before she has a chance to straight up quit, he stands.

 “Will that be all, Director Fury?” That definitely just put him on the shit list, or at least further down it.

 “That will be all. You’re dismissed.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She’s seething the whole drive home, and it shows. While usually Barnes is the one to drive (her guess is it’s a throwback to his youth when the gentlemanly thing to do was for the man to drive, one that he hasn’t even realized he’s doing), it’s rush hour, and he’s still getting used to modern New York traffic, so this time she’s behind the wheel. Normal highway offenses that wouldn’t ruffle her feathers are met with gritted teeth, and situations that would make her frustrated on a good day result in curses and the middle finger. And why not? Since the world at large is showing it’s ass, she’ll join in and show hers too.

 By the time they arrived home, her stormy mood has turned into a varitable hurricane, and she slams the apartment door instead of closing it.

 “Alright, that’s enough.” Bucky’s voice is measured, but she still bristles. “Doll, what’s gotten into you?”

 Her gut instinct is to reply with something seething, but a look at his face puts that to rest. He’s wearing a slight frown, those eyes wide with concern. At the same time, her anger fizzles and is replaced by a deep sadness.

 “I hate how Fury treated you.” Her voice is brittle, breaking off at the end. As much as she’s sick of  how the world views her Winter Soldier, she knows it affects him tenfold. When the world at large looks at the man standing in her kitchen, gazing at her with so much love and sympathy, they see a monster. Maybe it’s ignorance. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to see past the deeds HYDRA forced him to carry out. But it breaks her heart to know that this gentle, loyal to a fault, brilliant, hilarious hero is still regarded by those in power as some sort of heartless psychopath.

 Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead just collecting her into his arms and holding her close in response. Despite her best efforts to keep the tears at bay, a few leak out, and she knows he can feel them through his worn shirt. It’s ridiculous. He’s the one being scorned and she’s crying. Well, there’s something she can still do about this.

 “I’m not going to accept the mission.” She feels more than hears him sigh.

 “Doll, you know you can’t do that. They’ll kick you out of the Avengers.”

 “I don’t care.” Her words are reckless, she realizes that, but in the moment, she means them. “I won’t be part of a team where you’re not treated like a valuable player. Fuck the Avengers. I don’t want it if-”

 “It’s not about what you want though, is it?” She leans back to see his face, trying to read his meaning. Bucky chuckles wearily. “Sweetheart, you didn’t join the Avengers because you wanted something out of it. You did it because the world is a dangerous place, and we can make it safer. Together.” He gives her side a gentle squeeze. “This team is bigger than one person, and what we do is more important than a few jerks holding grudges.”

 She knows he’s right, but still…

 “It should be you on that protection detail. Not me.” She doesn’t doubt her capabilities, and in some ways she understands why her skllset would be deemed valuable for this mission. However, when it comes down to it, Barnes is the better option. He’s stronger than her, has years of experience, and was trained as a soldier. Protecting a target while remaining unseen is his bread and butter. By comparison, she’s a clumsy second.

 “Maybe.” He nods. “But to be honest, I don’t mind sitting this one out. A mission in close quarters with Sam for days on end, sitting through endless boring meetings?” Bucky feigns a shudder, which makes her snicker. “No thanks. You can have that.”

 “So you’re not disappointed?” She decides to pepper in some humor to lighten the mood. “Not missing out on every boy scout’s dream of meeting the president?”

 He narrows his eyes at her, but the twitch of his lips gives it away. “Did you just call me a boy scout?”

 Holding his gaze, she nods solumnly. “If the shoe fits.”

 They stay like that for a few moments, eyes locked, waiting to see which one will crack first. Finally, with a shrug, he tells her, “I don’t even know who the president is nowadays-” and she gives into the giggles.

 “Yeah, yeah. You’d better go pack your bags, solnyshka. Wheels are up in two hours.”

 Still chuckling softly, she squeezes his hand. “Love you, Buck.”

 “Love you too, Doll.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 On the first full day he’s alone, Bucky keeps to his usual schedule. His alarm goes off at five thirty, and after realizing that the other side of the bed is cold (which jogs his memory), he gets up and bleerily makes his way to the kitchen. Normally the time spent waiting for the coffee to perk would be spent making jokes about the inevitable knots and tangles both of them would be sporting after a night of deep sleep, but instead, it’d dead silent, and he reads the news instead of joking around with his girl.

 Their apartment isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but without her there to make the familiar noises of getting ready for the day ahead, it feels huge and empty. Eerily so. Shaking his head, Bucky finishes dressing and grabs his keys. There’s no real point in going to the Avengers complex since Sam won’t be there, but it feels wrong somehow to hang around his home without her here.

 Rhodey doesn’t bother to hide his surprise when he catches sight of him, but doesn’t say anything other than to tell him to check his inbox for a requisition form which should cover the cost of new ammo. As it turns out, when you have absolutely nothing else to concentrate on other than the task at hand, doing paperwork goes much faster. By twelve o’clock, Bucky’s finished all three field reports that are due and filled out a good month’s worth of backlogged forms. So, after lunch (a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because she’s not around to meet up with at a diner for a quick bite before they both have to return to work), he heads to the training room.

 It takes all of two hours for him to thoroughly exhaust every workout option, and no one is available to spar with him. Unfortunately, he’s still left with two more hours to fill before he can justify leaving, so he does something he’s never done before: cleans his desk. Technically, it’s only been two months since he started the “day job” part of being an Avenger, but my god. You’d think it had been two years since this desk saw the business end of a duster. He draws out the task until the clock reads five in the afternoon and then, a trash bag full of odd papers and food wrappers in hand, heads out to the parking lot.

 Dinner is a silent affair. If she were here, he’d put his phone on silent while they worked together, preparing the evening meal, but tonight he watches Youtube video after Youtube video in an attempt to keep himself occupied. Finally, at nine o’clock, he crawls into bed. He’s  nowhere near asleep when, an hour and a half later, his phone dings with a text. It’s her.

 “Hey, you. Hope you didn’t miss me too much today.” A smile spreads over his face as he reads the teasing message, and he rapidly types back.

 “Nope. Barely realized you were gone.”

 “Good, ‘cause I definitely don’t miss you stealing the covers.” He snickers.

 “Yeah, and I had so much hot water for my shower this morning I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

 There’s a short pause, then-

 “Sorry. Got distracted picturing you in the shower.” She’s perfect. She really is.

 “Don’t worry about it. I was busy thinking about you in bed next to me.”

 “Dammit, Barnes. Here I was trying to be sexy, and you said something sweet.”

 They text back and forth for a few more minutes, during which she tells him that she can’t call because the hotel room is possibly bugged, and then finally, after exchanging “I love you’s” say goodnight.

 The second day is a little different. For the first time since his time in the Army, Bucky ignores his alarm. His body wakes him up at seven a.m., and instead of making his own coffee, he stops at the gas station around the corner to pick up a cup. He’s already made up his mind that he’s not going into work today (he’s caught up for the next two weeks at least), so instead, he just drives. Explores the open roads with no map and nowhere to be. Going where the highway takes him. That is, until he gets lost.

 He has a GPS on his phone (wonders of modern technology), but on a whim, he decides to check the map in his glove compartment. If he started in Brooklyn, and the last town was… yeah, he’s in New Jersey. Well, that was a fun road trip. Time to head back home.

 It’s a grand total of five hours later when he arrives back at his apartment, which means he still has nineish hours to kill before he can go to sleep. Alright, he needs another task, fast. As he makes himself a sandwich for lunch, he catches sight of the broom and dustpan. Cleaning. He can clean the apartment.

 Dusting, vaccuuming, mopping, doing dishes, and washing all of the clothes that, between him and his fiancee, they own, takes five hours. It would’ve been less, but he went over things three times to kill more time. There’s no real reason to cook, it’s just him, but because he’s trying to keep himself occupied, he attempts to make a quiche. Three dozen eggs later, he thinks he’s figured it out.

 The goodnight text comes at nine o’clock, but it’s short. “Hey. Can’t talk. Target is still active.” (he assumes she means the president). “Just wanted to check in. Love you.”

 He types a quick reply, then rolls over and starts to count ceiling tiles in an attempt to wear himself out.

 On the third day, Bucky doesn’t get out of bed until ten a.m. Not because he’s sleeping. Oh, no. Because there’s nothing else to do except scroll through news articles and watch videos of dogs getting scared by their own hiccups. He finally convinces himself to get up, but after much consideration, decides against putting on pants. It’s just him. There’s no one else around. Come to think of it, he might as well drink his coffee straight out of the pot. Again, no one else around. He draws the line at eating cereal straight out of the box, but that’s mostly because it requires milk.

 After eating, he settles in on the sofa and decides to take advantage of the seemingly endless supply of movies and television shows readily available at the click of a button. Leave It To Beaver attracts his attention because it’s in black and white. Made in the late 1950s. Okay, he’ll give it a go.

 Three seasons later, his phone dings and he realizes that it’s seven p.m. So that’s what people mean by “binge watching.” It’s a text (big shocker), but this time, he almost drops his phone as he reads. “The mission’s over. We’re heading out tonight. We should touch down tomorrow morning at seven a.m.”  Yes!

 “Alright. I’ll be there.” That’s not enough. “Looking forward to having you back, Doll.”

 It’s quiet for a few minutes, then-

 “So you’re not missing the bachelor life?”

 He snorts. Hell no. “I think 100 years of bachelorhood is enough.”

 That night, for the first time since she left, he sleeps well.

 When his alarm goes off, Bucky’s already been up for half an hour, changing the sheets on the bed, checking to makes sure he put all of the laundry away in the right drawers, and making a note of any foodstuffs they’re out of.  He takes more time showering and shaving than usual along with paying far more attention to which shirt he puts on. Part of him feels a little ridiculous, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by excitement. His girl’s coming home today! Before he climbs in his car, he brews a pot of her favorite tea and pours it into a thermos, adding sugar and milk to her specifications. Goodness knows she’s probably had  enough of doing without over the past four mornings.

 He’s expecting the quinjet to arrive a little later than predicted. He’s even expecting the other agents to disembark first. What he’s not expecting is, when he finally sees her, for her to be laughing at something Sam has said. If anything, he was expecting his partner to have gotten on her nerves. This is good. The three of them have had to work together a few times in the past months since the blip was undone. It’s good that they’re getting along. Bucky nods to himself. It’s healthy really, especially since they work in high-stress situations.

 As soon as he steps out of his car, he can make out their conversation.  

 “I can’t believe you made me listen to Elton John!” Sam’s shaking his head, but he’s smiling.

 She elbows him. “Hey, you ended up singing along, didn’t you? And you have to admit, the song’s catchy.”

 “Not when you sing it, it’s not. You have to be the most tone-deaf person on the face of this planet.”

 Whoa! Where the hell does Sam get off saying that to her? It’s true, but still. He’s about to intervene, tell him to go to hell, but she just shrugs.

 “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

 Sam whistles. “Remind me to make sure you’re on the opposite team next karaoke night.”

 Wait, there’s karaoke nights? He’s never been invited. Not that he’d want to go, but-

 “Yeah, because you know the only way you’d ever have a chance at winning is to go against me.”

 Something about that playful smile, the one he’s only ever seen before directed at him (usually when she’s teasing him about being an old man… god, she’s so young, what’s she doing with him anyway) irks him, and ultimately that’s what makes him step forward and interrupt the banter.

 “Good mission?” Okay, his mind’s definitely playing tricks on him. Her eyes light up and, completely abandoning Sam, she takes off at a run towards him. Bucky’s prepared for it and immediately pulls her into a tight embrace as soon as she’s near enough.

 “God, I missed you.” Yeah, it was all his imagination. Her lips press against his in punctuation to her statement, and by the time they break apart, he’s out of breath.

 “I missed you too, Doll, but the question still stands.”

 “Yes, it was good. Pretty boring for the most part, but…” He really should be paying attention, but his gaze shifts towards Sam. Is he crazy, or is Sam… watching her? That’s to be expected. They did just spend seventy-two odd hours in close quarters. It’s probably a remnant from the mission. Right?

 “...and between you and me-” She leans closer, body pressing against his side, and that redirects his attention. “-the president is kind of a dick.”

 She says it quietly, but Sam must’ve heard, because he nods.

 “Welcome to protecting world leaders.” Their eyes lock for a moment, and Bucky nods.

 “Wilson.”

 “Barnes.” And, Sam’s back to looking at her. “Gotta say, your girl’s more fun on stakeouts than you. Knows how to keep things interesting.” What the hell does that mean? He needs to calm down. He trusts her implicitly. It’s an innocent comment.

 “I could’ve told you that.” Of course she’s more interesting. When Bucky’s on a mission, he’s only interested in getting in and out as quickly and effectively as possible. That’s what he did as The Winter Soldier, and the years of sticking to a strict protocal haven’t made him more chatty. She and Sam are from the same generation. They have things to talk about. Things in common. Shared life experiences. Oh god, he’s so very much older than she is. Old and boring. 

 “Yeah.” Sam chuckles. “I think next time, I’m gonna ask if I can have her instead of you.”

 If he was paying closer attention to the woman by his side, Bucky would’ve caught the slight frown on her face at Sam’s words, but it’s lost on him thanks to her reply.

 “No thanks. If  I never have to share a hotel room with you again, it’ll be too soon.” Wait… they shared a hotel room? That’s common, but… one hotel room. Shared. That means one bathroom. One shower. One bed. Jesus, he needs to get ahold of himself. It’s fine. Everything is-

 “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the debrief?”

 She nods, smiling brightly. “Sure thing.”

 Sam approaches and… oh boy… they share a quick hug.

 Bucky’s not sure how long he’s just standing there, ordering the voices in his head to shut up, but it must be longer than necessary, because next thing he’s aware of is her calling his name.

 “Yeah.”

 “You okay there, Buck?” She peers up at him, frowning. “You seem a little… off.”

 “Fine.” Clearing his throat, he interlocks his fingers with hers. “Let’s go home.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 It’s been bubbling underneath the surface for a while now. Ever since she returned home from the mission a week ago, really. Something about Barnes is… off. She’s not sure what, but he seems quieter somehow. More solemn.

 At first she thought he was hanging back, giving her a chance to readjust to life at home. That’s why she didn’t pay much attention when, on the first day, he stayed mostly silent, letting her carry the conversation. She took that time to fill him in on the highs and lows of the mission, the funny moments, the frightening ones, and everything in between. His response was pretty muted, but she brushed it off.

 The next day was the debrief. Despite not being involved in the mission, Bucky was called in. She chalked up the stiffness in his posture during the meeting to discomfort at being in the same room with Fury again. That is, until it was just him, her, and Sam, and if anything, Bucky seemed more sullen.

 She returned to teaching on the third day, so her mind was occupied with other things besides the man she loves for the majority of the day. He seemed more his normal self when she arrived home, and the evening was going pretty well until they settled in to watch television and she made an off-handed comment about how he really must’ve enjoyed Leave it to Beaver. His response was a sigh and the words, “It’s more in my age bracket, I guess.” After that, he was completely shut down, and she was torn between apologizing and asking him what the hell is going on.

 On day four, she wakes up with new determination. She’s going to fix this, whatever it is. Maybe he’s feeling left out since she went on a mission with his partner. Well, she has a simple solution to that. She’ll invite Sam over for dinner so that they can have some time to catch up. After all, with Steve all but out of the picture, Sam’s the closest thing to a friend Bucky’s got. And, since tomorrow is a Friday, it’ll work out perfectly. She expects an at least mildly positive response when she mentions the idea to Bucky, but instead, his lips quirk down slightly before he hides any and all emotions away and tells her,

 “Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

 At least Sam’s a little more enthusiastic.

 “Sure. I’ll do anything to avoid cooking.”

 The day of the dinner, she makes a point to leave work as soon as her last class is dismissed. No student meetings. No talking to colleagues. She’s a woman on a mission. That mission takes her to three separate grocery stores, a bakery, and a liquor store. By the time she arrives home, she has all the ingredients for a traditional Sunday roast, a Boston cream pie, and a bottle of wine she was told would pair well with the meal.

 As per usual on her days to cook, when Bucky arrives home, he asks if he can help with any of the preparations. She cheerfully informs him that she’s got it covered, and from his expression, you’d think she’d told him to go jump off a bridge. She thinks about calling him back, but that’s when a pot decides to boil over, so she’s momentarily distracted.

 At six o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. Right on time.

 “Can you get that?” She calls from the kitchen to where he’s sitting in the living room. It’s unnervingly quiet for a moment, then-

 “Sure.” It’s said with all the excitement of someone agreeing to a root canal.

 Her gut tells her to leave the kitchen, go and oversee the hospitality in the other room, but she forces herself to stay in place, give them some time to get reacquainted.

 “Nice play you’ve got here.” Sam.

 “Thanks.”

 “Didn’t realize it was in the same building as Steve’s.” Oh no. She doesn’t have to be able to see  Bucky’s expression to know he’s taken a hit.

 “Yeah.”

 “Is that his old couch? I remember crashing on it a few times.”  

 “Same one.” 

 Well, this is thrilling. Shaking her head, she removes the cork from the wine, allowing it to breathe and makes her way towards the living room.

 “You okay, man? Seems like something’s eating you.”

 “Fine.” So it’s not just her imagination.

 “Hey, guys-” Two sets of eyes lock on her. Sam looks relieved. Bucky looks… sad? No, she’s reading this wrong. “-soup’s on.”

 Dinner is… awkward. Sam cracks jokes and tells old battle stories. She laughs at the appropriate times and asks polite questions, but the whole time, her attention is on Bucky. He’s not one to participate in idle chatter (at least not when it involves anyone outside of the two of them), but tonight he’s dead silent. At one point, Sam asks him a question, and the only reply is a glare and a sharp, “No.” She resists the urge to kick him under the table, instead focusing her frustrations into being cheery enough for both of them.

 The clock strikes eight, and although she wasn’t expecting Sam to leave this soon, she can’t blame him for making an excuse about having an early morning meeting at the V.A. to get out of there.

"That is, unless you could use some help with the cleanup?”

 She’s already prepared to brush it off, he’s a guest, they can handle it, but before she can speak-

 “No. I’ve got it covered.” It would be a less threatening sentiment if Barnes wasn’t standing directly in the kitchen door frame, blocking the room from view, arms crossed over his chest, frowning menacingly.

 “Right.” Sam nods and, muttering something about seeing them at work, sees himself out.

 As soon as the door closes, she collects their plates and, not bothering with a warning, pushes past her fiance into the kitchen. She’s hoping that the literal cold shoulder will serve as a warning for him to stay back, don’t fuck with her right now, but of course, her luck couldn’t work out just this one time because not thirty seconds later, he’s beside her, scraping plates in preparation for washing. Fine. If he insists on ignoring all the signs that point to “Do not disturb”, she’ll go ahead and get into it.

 “You didn’t have to be so rude to Sam tonight.” He freezes, hands gripping the ceramic bowl he’s emptying into the trashcan so tightly that she’s afraid it’ll shatter.

 “I wasn’t rude. I was quiet.” The bowl slams down on the counter top next to her, and if she weren’t so pissed off, she’d jump, startled. “There’s a difference.”

 “Not speaking when spoken to, answering with one-word statements?” Shaking her head, she turns on the tap. “That’s rude. Not quiet.”

 Another slam, this time of a wine glass. “Didn’t seem like the conversation suffered.”

 She opens her mouth, fully intent on calmly pointing out that friends talk to each other, that’s what they do, but instead what comes out is,

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” His jaw tenses, and she considers apologizing, but decides to stand her ground. He’s had this coming to him all damn week.

 “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. Except that I’m not Sam.”

 She turns to face him, confused. “What does that even mean?”

 Not so much as pausing as he scrapes the remnants of dinner off of a plate, he nearly growls, “You go away on a mission, and when you come back-” The fork clatters as it’s tossed into the sink. “-he’s your new best friend.”

 “What’s wrong with that?” She refuses to let his gruffness ruffle her, instead allowing her own voice to turn hard. “Am I not supposed to have friends?”

 “That’s not what I’m saying-”

 “Then what is it?” She’s rapidly losing patience with the entire situation.

 “Nothing.” He shakes his head, returning to the sink. “Forget I said anything. Clearly my opinion isn’t needed since now you can talk to your good pal Sam.”

 Her mouth falls open, forming a perfect “o”, but she immediately snaps it shut. Fine. If he wants to go down that road…

 “You know what? You’re right.” She nods. “I do like talking to Sam.” His shoulders tense, but she continues. “It turns out we have a lot in common. You should try it sometime instead of shutting down anything that might lead to you actually liking the man!”

 “Well if you like him so much, then why are you even with me?” The words are practically hurled at her and she blinks in surprise. She’s never heard this much anger in his voice, not directed at her. So much anger and… dejection?

 “Is that what all of this is about?” She says it more to herself than him, but Bucky gives her a tight nod.

 “You said so yourself; you two have a lot in common-”

 “So do we-”

 “-And he’s closer to your age.”

 She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted someone closer to my age, do you think I would’ve spent the five years you were gone on my own?”

 “Why did you?” The trashcan lid slams shut and another fork is thrown into the sink. “For all you knew, I wasn’t coming back.” His eyes rake over her, and she has the urge to cross her arms, covering herself. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart too. Even with half the population gone, you can’t tell me there wasn’t anyone interested. Why didn’t you start over?”

 “I couldn’t.” She expects her voice to shake, but it comes out deceptively strong.

 “Sure you could. Why didn’t you-”

 “Because I love you, okay?” Tears prick at her eyes even as she shouts the words, and she has to stare into the sink to keep him from seeing. “I love you. In  case you hadn’t realized it, I’m a one-and-done type. For me, it’s you. There’s only ever going to be you. I’m yours.”

 “Doll-”

 “What do you want from me, Bucky? Do I have to get on my knees to prove it to you? Because I’ll do it.” The tears are truly flowing now. She doesn’t have much time. So, with the last bit of bitterness she has in reserves, she mutters, “I can’t keep having this conversation for the rest of my life.”

 “And you shouldn’t have to.” The words take her by surprise, and she looks up. He’s peering at her, brow knitted, but this time, it’s not in anger. “Doll, you haven’t done anything wrong. I know that, just-” He groans, forcing his fingers through his hair. “-I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, ‘cause that’s how it’s always been. You don’t deserve that.”

 “I don’t.” She shakes her head, eyes still locked with his. “But you don’t deserve to live like that either. So what can we do to fix it?”

 For a few seconds it’s silent, the kind of silent you can feel pressing against you, strangling you, forcing the breath from your lungs. Then-

 “I don’t know, just-” Bucky sighs, and she pretends not to see the shine of tears in his eyes as well. “-can you keep reminding me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but just until I can get it through my thick skull-”

 It’s involuntary. Her mind has no control over her body as, without any warning, she grabs hold of his collar and, yanking hard, pulls him down for a kiss. As his arms envelope her, pulling her flush against his body, close enough that she can feel his heartbeat hammering against her chest, everything’s right for the first time in days.

 “I can do that.” She murmurs it against his ear, breath catching in her throat as his lips leave a trail of kisses across her jaw, leading down to her neck. “For as long as you need me to.”

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 “I’m sorry.” It’s never an easy sentence to utter, to admit you were wrong, that you’re the one at fault. “I’m sorry.” In Bucky’s experience, most times he utters those words, it feels like he’s slapping a band-aid on a bullet wound. Most of the things he’s done are so bad, it doesn’t matter if he regrets them. There’s no absolution available. Especially this time. Especially now that he’s hurt her. But what else can he say? He truly is.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “You keep saying that.” They’re in bed now, lying side by side, his head buried in the cushion of her chest. Her hands are trailing up and down his uncovered back, tracing lazy patterns between gently kneading the tension of the past few days out of his muscles. For his part, all he can do is breath her in, her scent, her presence. That and repeat the same damn words over and over like a prayer.

 “And I’m going to keep telling you the same thing. It’s alright. It’s over. I love you.” He’d be happy just to drown in those reassurances, let them wash over him until it’s all he can remember. But that’s not realistic. Eventually he’ll have to get up, and when that happens, the next step will be making amends. He may not be a man who believes in the power of an apology, not after all he’s seen, but he’s wise enough to know that words need to be backed up with actions, and the sooner the better.

 He hates himself for moving, for interrupting such a peaceful moment, but he needs to get a start on repairing any damage that’s been done. Leaning back just enough to see her, he peers into her eyes, partially hidden between lowered lids.

 “Let me show you, then.” It takes a minute, but he can tell when she registers what he’s asking.

 “There’s nothing to prove, but I’ll never say no.”

 It’s nothing they haven’t done a thousand times before. He lifts the shirt from her body and eases her back against the mattress, those trusting eyes not straying from his face, and he can’t help but think to himself that he’s the only one who gets to see her like this. Exposed. Vulnerable. Whether he deserves it or not (he’s unsure if he’ll ever believe he does), he’s the one who gets to kiss her lips, feel them move against his, until, both of them breathless, he pulls away, leaving them a debauched red.

 From their years together, he knows that just below her earlobe is a hot spot; if he so much as brushes it with his tongue or allows his breath to tease over it, she’ll gasp, body growing more pliant beneath him. That, as he works his way lower, she likes the feeling of his hand over her throat, not applying pressure, just resting there, reminding her that she’s held. He’s caught her studying her reflection in the mirror, fingers lightly tracing over the marks he’s left in the hollow between her breasts, a small, secretive smile on her lips. Tomorrow, she’ll do it again.

 He knows, after removing the thin cotton panties from her lower half and settling between her legs, how to take her apart, piece by piece. Her hands grasp his hair, much shorter now than the first time they did this, as he teases her nub with his tongue, just enough to hear her soft moan before starting in earnest. He’s the only one to know exactly how much she can take, how rough he can be, or how teasing, before she’s absolutely desperate, but tonight, he doesn’t put that knowledge to good use, instead focusing on what will tip her over the edge most effectively.

 They’ve both got a hell of a lot of endurance, so this could go on for hours, but he knows after the first orgasm, she prefers for him to get on with it, get inside of her, and usually by that point, he’s beyond jokes or teasing her about being an eager little thing. Tonight’s no exception, although he takes special care to prepare her, working one, then two, then three fingers into her, immediately finding the spot inside of her that makes her breath catch in her throat. It’s only after he’s satisfied that she’s ready, that there will be no pain, that he tears open the packet from the nightstand drawer and, now covered, presses against her entrance.

 He’s the only one who knows that, as soon as her legs are locked around his waist, heels digging into his ass, she’s ready for him to pick up the pace, use the leverage of his resting on either side of her head, boxing her head, to rock against her faster. If he presses his face against her shoulder, he can hear each intake of breath, feel her pulse thundering away. If he lowers his forehead to hers, he can look into her eyes. Tonight, he chooses to take advantage of their position to place kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, really any part of her face he feels like pecking.

 It’s as often her on top, and god, that’s probably his favorite view in the world, but this time, he wants to be the one in control, taking care of her. Reaching between them, he urges her over the edge a second time, her nails digging into his shoulders providing just a tinge of pain that’s almost enough for him to lose it, but no, not yet. He wants her to cum one more time before he finishes.

 It doesn’t take long. She’s so sensitive at this point that, only minutes later, he feels her contract around him with a tale-tell moan, and that’s what sends him over, muffling his own moan against her sweaty neck.

 Before, he would resist the urge to just colapse on top of her, or at the very least, roll off quickly in fear that he’d crush her under his weight. Now that her status as a super soldier matches his own, he can relax, enjoy the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his, and moments later, her arms encircling his back.

 “I love you, Doll.” So much. Before it all, before the war and HYDRA and everything that followed, he was good with words, quick with sweet talk, but now, they seem to stick in his throat. Still, that’s what it all boils down to. He loves her, and as much as she claims that she’s his, he belongs just as much to her.

 “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

[yelena-bellova]

Hiii, I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do a Female! Reader X Daniel Sousa where he says prompt 13: “I’ve fallen for you and it’s becoming difficult for me to get anything done.” (Sorry for my English, is not my first language)

The Way You Look Tonight

Plot: Y/n and Daniel Sousa go on an undercover mission, but Daniel seems...off.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: It’s sooo weird to write Daniel back in the 40’s/50’s after watching AOS. But I hope you enjoy! (And your English was perfect! 👌🏻)

————

13: I’ve fallen for you and it’s becoming difficult for me to get anything done

————

It was a warm summer night in Los Angeles, on the swankier side of the city filled with fine hotels and nightclubs. The SSR had been trailing a former HYDRA operative for months but he’d escaped us each time we’d tried to bring him in. We’d gotten a tip that he’d be at a club tonight and I’d been assigned to go undercover and arrest him. Though I’d been fine with going alone, Chief Sousa had volunteered to go with me. We were arriving separately to preserve the facade that we were strangers meeting spontaneously. I was already sat at the bar, dressed far fancier than I typically did and sipping the drink I’d ordered.

“Pardon me, miss,” a familiar voice began behind me, “Is this seat taken?”

I turned to face Daniel, dressed in his smartest suit, who upon meeting my eyes looked almost dumbstruck. I couldn’t help but allow myself a few seconds to admire how handsome he looked.

“By all means,” I answered with a flirtatious smile, gesturing to the free barstool.

He scooted his seat closer to me so we could talk and ordered his drink, before turning back to me,

“Anything yet?” he asked quietly.

“Not yet,” I whispered, “But I’m going to excuse myself to the ladies room in a moment, that’ll allow me to get a full view of the place. If I spot him and he tries to bolt, I can chase him down but I’ll need you backing me up.”

He hadn’t answered me yet or even acknowledged my plan, he was simply staring at me.

“Daniel, are you with me?” I asked with a small laugh, nudging his arm.

He seemed to shake himself out of whatever daze he’d been in, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Sounds like a plan.”

I nodded and rose from my seat, walking past the dance floor and past various tables as I headed towards the bathroom. Selfishly, I needed a minute to pull myself together before continuing with the mission. Once I was within the privacy of the room, I locked the door and began giving myself a very familiar pep talk in the mirror,

“You are an SSR agent, under no circumstances are you to let your feelings for Daniel Sousa get in the way of this mission.”

It was taking an enormous amount of self control to keep my focus on what we’d come to do when all I wanted was for Daniel to pull me into his arms on the dance floor. We’d worked together for almost a year now and had become fast friends, somewhere along the line I’d fallen for him. It was grueling each day to go in and work so closely with him when I couldn’t do anything about my feelings.

I took a deep breath, collected myself and exited the room. I surveyed the dance floor once again, unable to find the man in the crowd. I scanned a couple of nearby tables, nothing but happy couples laughing and staring at each other lovingly. Okay, definitely not helping in my attempts to focus solely on the mission…

Finally, I spotted him. The ex-HYDRA member was seated at the same bar that Daniel and I had been at, only a few seats down. Upon Daniel seeing me again, I nodded towards the man and inconspicuously reached into my clutch to retrieve the pistol I carried. Daniel didn’t leave his seat but was alert and ready to move if the guy gave us the slightest bit of trouble.


“Care to buy a girl a drink?” I asked in my most sultry tone as I stood behind the man.

He turned to take a look at me only to be met by a pistol pressed to his abdomen, “SSR, you’re under arrest.”

He ran his eyes over my figure before meeting my eyes, gave me a smug grin and bolted towards the nearby backdoor of the club. I took off after him, not waiting for Daniel to catch up knowing he’d catch up. I slammed my body into the door the guy had escaped out of and spotted him sprinting down the alley towards a car. Even in high heels I was a remarkably fast runner, something this guy was not, and was quickly gaining on him. Just as he was approaching his car, I tackled him to the ground and pinned his hands behind his back.

I pointed the gun at him, “Like I said…SSR, you’re under arrest.”

I heard Daniel panting behind me and whipped my head around, he’d just caught up to us.

“Sousa, cuffs,” I said, as the man tried to squirm out of my grasp to no avail.

Daniel seemed to be stuck for the second time of the night, all his attention focused solely on me.

“Sousa,” I repeated, “Cuffs.”

“Oh, right,” he snapped himself back into reality as he reached into his suit pocket and tossed me the handcuffs, “Sorry.”

—————

Back at the SSR, we’d interrogated the guy and found out he was at the club for an illegal weapons dealing. While he wouldn’t give up his contact, we were smart enough to narrow it down to a few names. It was almost midnight by the time we’d handed the man over to the cops, the office was completely empty except for me and Daniel. Since it was just us, I’d slipped off my uncomfortable heels and Daniel had removed his suit jacket and tie. For once, the atmosphere of the office was very relaxed.

“All in a day’s work,” I remarked as I leaned against the door of his office.

He smiled at me from behind his desk, but I could tell there was something going on he wasn’t telling me about. He wasn’t usually this quiet, at least not around me.

“Something bothering you, Chief?” I asked, stepping into the room.

“I wouldn’t call it a bother,” he said as he fiddled with his hands in his lap, “But there is something on my mind.”

I grabbed a chair and slid it over to his desk next to him, he rotated until we were face to face. Our knees brushed against each other lightly, I tried to ignore the adrenaline in my veins from being in such close proximity to him. I waited for him to start talking as he drew a deep breath,

“I’m no good at this kind of thing, but for the sake of the agency,” Daniel chuckled, “I think I have to at least try.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion but let him continue speaking,

“Y/n, I’ve fallen for you and it’s becoming difficult for me to get anything done,” he said with a small smile, “I come in here every day and have the hardest time doing my job because all I find myself doing is thinking about you. Like tonight, how many times did you have to wake me up from whatever daydream I was having?”

“Twice,” I answered with a laugh under my breath at the memory.

Daniel echoed me, “Twice. You wanna know why? Because I couldn’t stop thinking about gorgeous you looked sitting at the bar. Or in the alleyway, how fearless you were taking down that guy,” his smile lessened as the conversation went on, “I know that by doing this, I’ve probably scared you off and messed up our entire friendship but…I just couldn’t let another day go by without telling you how crazy I am about you.”

Words couldn’t begin to describe the joy that I felt in that moment. I’d pined after Daniel Sousa for months now, wishing every day that something would happen between us. Now here he was confessing to feeling the exact same way and thinking I would want nothing to do with him.

“Daniel, I-I…” I began but as he carefully took hold of one of my hands, I lost my train of thought.

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, Y/n. I will get over it, I promise.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over it?” I said, locking eyes with him as I placed my other hand over his.

He looked so hopeful as we sat in expectant silence, wondering who would break it first. Slowly, he stood up and pulled me up with him, clutching my hands to his chest. I took a step closer, leaving only a sliver of space between us. Giving me every opportunity to back out, he cautiously leaned down with me as his destination. I threw caution to the wind and rose to meet him, crashing my lips against his only to be met with the same enthusiasm. Daniel’s hands released mine to gently grasp my waist, while I gripped his white shirt to anchor myself to him. Our lips moved together slowly, there would be time for more passionate kisses, but this was a sweet moment that was to be savored.

After we pulled away, I kept my eyes closed and pressed my cheek to Daniel’s as he enveloped me in his arms. He started softly humming a Bing Crosby tune, one of my favorites. I’d always loved it when he sang, he was convinced he was terrible but even if he was, I wouldn’t have noticed.


“If we wouldn’t have been on duty tonight,” he whispered close to my ear, sending goosebumps down my skin, “I’d have asked you to dance. I’d have held you close like this and wouldn’t have let you go even for a second.”

“Who says we still can’t have that?” I replied as I gently began to sway, picking up the song he’d been humming where he’d left off. Daniel caught onto what I was doing and quickly took over, moving our bodies back and forth as we sung the song together. I don’t know how long we stayed like that but however long it was, it wasn’t nearly enough. Luckily, I saw many more moments like it in mine and Daniel’s future…

Oh but, you're lovely

With your smile so warm, and your cheek so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

Just the way you look tonight

————

900 Followers Celebration

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 day 18: Flower

She had been alive for a long time, even longer than she realized at first. It was difficult to keep track of. Her memory scarce and littered with centuries that flew past her icy prison. The glacier she was held in slowly cracked, melted away into rivers. Her roots drank eagerly, her body growing again.

If it wasn’t for the small animals and larger humans that took interest in her ‘home’, she would have been trapped much longer.

But hot blood splashed, and new strength gave the ancient roots the ability to twist and squirm.

Until her body was finally released.

Her kimono was bleached and stained. The once red fabric, woven from the loose strands of many nine tails, lost its luster. Her father, the kitsune, would be disappointed.

Perhaps the red was sucked from it, stabilizing her long enough to live through immobilization and eternal winters.

When she finally stepped foot, and was met with water, she wondered what changes occurred over her expansive life. Parts of her old realities eroded, both from the ice and the food provided by a new guardian that saved her life.

She chose to categorize her life by the names she bore.

The first name... was long since forgotten. She had been forced to shed it when her fields grew weary, and only once flower remained of her. The sun was hidden by the rotten trees, and the skies covered by clouds of hatred.

When she bore her first name, she was sure she would die. Alone, perishing after years of survival. With no one left to appreciate the beauty and life she tried so desperately to sustain.

Then, a golden sheen of white fur surrounded her. A deep, playful grin that she couldn’t return.

A kitsune, her guardian, her father. The gifter of her precious red kimono.

Yellowing teeth glisten from the glow of his closed eye, before it sank down upon its paw.

The blood that trickled down her petals was intoxicating. Rich in flavor and texture, strong in the power given.

Her roots shot out. They claimed the trees. A field of red petals burst out from the branches, and her new form came.

And feasting upon the blood of her father, she was gifted a name. Akaihana.

A name she wore with pride. One that echoed through her forest along with tantalizing chimes. Bells, animal calls, a singing voice. Her father mimicked anyone, and together, they consumed armies.

Her heart was new and full, filled with a gleaming red. Powered by the deep crimson of human fools, and the delicious scent of her fathers essence.

Akaihana was grateful. Akaihana was willing to return the favor of life.

Her father smiled and sang to her, easing her through the process of learning to walk when she realized she could. Shifting into a form that resembled the humans. A way for Akaihana to lure in love stricken fools, earn riches and worshiped by wine drunken followers, and able to flee with her core if needed.

Akaihana never saw the point, but she was grateful to be gifted her fathers old clothes. She took on her duties well, learned even faster. She would make her nine-tailed father smile proudly upon her, and any corpse she brought for him.

It wasn’t long before Akaihana became hungry. The red of her trees lost their luster, the color draining until she became a sickening white. Purple and ivory bark turned tired and blue. Akaihana came to hate that blue, and sought to replace it with its warm reds again.

But no amount of blood or bodies would help her become warm again.

No, it was her fathers blood that helped her retain that beauty.

And in his immortal youth...

He became afraid, wary, secretive.

Her father looked upon her with disdain, even whilst upon her branches.

Akaihana only realized when her hatred for blue intensified. Her father left her in a single night, and returned while she starved. When he returned, a warrior cloaked in frost was with him, carrying a sword that made her branches cold and stiffen, made the life wilt and decay under its icy gaze.

Her father brought death upon Akaihana’s forest. The warrior coming directly for her, after her core.

The body her father instructed her to maintain, in order to save herself and flee, it was now her downfall.

The warrior didn’t kill Akaihana, however. Although she was convinced the blue human would have.

She didn’t realize it until she awoken again, this time with polluted air filling her lungs and making her white leaves shrivel in disdain.

The smell of rot wafted off skeletons. Their muscles and flesh stripped away by the force of her blue roots stabbing into them.

Only when she left the prison did Akaihana realize how much time had passed. She was bombarded, overwhelmed, her weakly pulsing heart straining to give her the energy to run from an unfamiliar reality marked by unfamiliar terrain and straining noises and smells

A crowd of poorly dressed warriors stood before her prison, waiting for her. Clutching torches, spears, speaking into boxes that had garbled words coming through. She was dizzy as they came close, stabbing their sticks into her.

Then, and only then, did she remember her father. The nine tailed coward who abandoned her for a warrior who incased her in purgatory. The betrayal stung, and the remains hurt worse.

‘Akaihana’ was nothing more than a reminder.

And the grief she felt fueled her roots to seize and strike against the onslaught.

Humans were weak, puny things. And in this new reality, they were even more pathetic. But with every corpses consumed, she found herself able to make out their words and expressions easier. Learning their language with every death.

The crowd was diminished, but she still starved.

Next, we’re the scarce villages. She wiped out entire communities as she followed a trail that she could hardly remember, following a sticky scent that was nearly nostalgic.

Her father was still alive. He had been all over this territory once, he had to be nearby.

She wishes she could sprout a flower to follow, similar to how she found him earlier under the name Akaihana.

But she didn’t have much lead besides the smell she followed.

As she traveled from village to village, word traveled faster. She would hear the occasional human speak of a white forest that was taking over the countryside. With yellow talons and blue bark.

It didn’t take her long to realize that the white forest was her, when she arrived upon a larger village, and the humans bombarded her with terrified screams and offerings to make her leave them be.

Shiromori.

She remembered the first human who uttered it to her, so scared and crumbled on the ground, with wine and riches on a platter made of red wood.

It was delightful, even more so when he and everyone else in the village filled her body with energy and sprouts grew from their corpses.

Shiromori.

Yes, that could be the marking of a new life that she planned to lead, in search of her hateful father.

She will ensure that he knew the centuries of betrayed burning inside his blue barked daughter, and she will plant acres of red trees from the remains of his corpse.

First a forgotten name, then Akaihana, and now, Shiromori.

A name she will wear with pride.

[fullmetalscullyy]

if you’re taking prompts,,, could we get a jealous!roy and oblivious!riza where they end up being super soft together after an argument 🥺

always, friend! and thank you so much!! 💖🥺 i appreciate you sending in a prompt!! hope you enjoy 💕

rated: t | words: 2685

“He can be such an ass.”

Rebecca Catalina, who was often in agreement with such a sentiment towards the reason for Riza’s ire that night, was taken aback momentarily by the harshness of the statement. It was not common for Riza to feel this way towards the Colonel. In fact, it was extremely rare. This was the first time she’d ever voiced such an opinion.

“What did he do this time?” Rebecca snorted, lifting her glass to her lips to take a sip of her wine. Resettling herself on her couch, she tucked her feet underneath her body and hooked her elbow over the back of the couch, taking the time to observe Riza’s body language.

The grip Riza had on her wine glass was not gentle. The tips of her fingers had turned white with tension. Her spine was straight and she hadn’t relaxed back against the cushion behind her, the tension in her shoulders still present from upon her arrival. She’d opted to remain facing straight ahead, rather than towards Rebecca, like they normally did of an evening. There was a tiny crease in between Riza’s eyebrows, drawing them downwards as she stared at Rebecca’s coffee table like its very presence offended her.

Rebecca had taken one look at her friend and known something was off. After a few glasses of wine, she’d vowed she’d get it out of Riza, but Rebecca had only taken two sips of alcohol before voicing her irritation. It wasn’t exactly difficult either to figure out who had made her so annoyed, but the fact Riza’s reply had been so heated left Rebecca instantly intrigued.

In response to Rebecca’s question, Riza was silent. Her frown deepened and her lips pursed in displeasure, clearly remembering her last interaction with Mustang.

“Said something stupid,” she muttered darkly.

“Isn’t that every time he opens his mouth?”

Riza shot her a warning look. Rebecca shrugged, uncaring at her jab. She had to get them in somewhere. Still, she was here to support her friend. Only one would do for tonight. Silently, her hands lifted in surrender, motioning for Riza to continue.

“He was spouting off that he didn’t want me to work with that new Lieutenant in Admin. Such bullshit,” she added with such a ferocity it made Rebecca laugh quietly to herself.

“It is bullshit. But…” A mischievous thought overtook Rebecca, and it was too good to pass up. “I can see why,” she offered, not wishing to elaborate further until Riza asked her about it.

“All right,” Riza announced. “I’ll bite. Why?”

“Second Lieutenant Wellwood is a good-looking man,” Rebecca replied casually. “I can see why Mustang wouldn’t want you working with him.”

“What?”

Poor Riza looked so confused. Rebecca resisted the urge to role her eyes at her friend’s inability to see the forest for the trees.

“Well, think about it,” she prompted. “Why wouldn’t he want you working with Wellwood?”

“There’s no problem with it. It’s an insult that he even brought it up,” Riza explained, her frown returning. “I can’t work with him,” she muttered to herself before scoffing in disgust. “He tried to remove me from Admin too to another task when I’m more than capable of carrying it out. Asshole.”

“I think there’s more to it than that.” Rebecca was trying to steer her away from the anger towards what Rebecca believed was the root of the problem. That Mustang liked Riza. He was probably in love with her, after all Rebecca had deducted over the years. Seeing their interactions, the way they just knew what the other was going to do, it made Rebecca squint at them, critiquing every movement as she wondered about the story behind them. When a hunk like Wellwood came along, all six foot two of him with his tanned skin and copper hair, a man like Mustang would get jealous if they were removing Riza’s attention from him.

“Like what?”

Rebecca sighed in frustration at how oblivious she was.

“Mustang would do anything for you, Riza. You know that, right?”

Riza blinked at Rebecca, stating that in fact, no, she didn’t know that. Rebecca coughed quietly as Riza looked down at her wine glass, a dusting of pink appearing over her nose.

“It still didn’t give him the right,” she muttered.

“No, I agree with you there. It didn’t. But…” Rebecca cocked her head. “I can’t put this subtly and also, it’s so blatantly obvious to me that it pains me to see you so unaware, so I’m just going to come out and say it. The fool is in love with you, Riza.”

Her head snapped up, instantly alarmed.

“I mean it,” Rebecca continued, “he really is. He’s like a lost puppy when you’re not around. And you’re both practically joined at the hip. Wellwood is a good-looking dude. No wonder he wouldn’t want someone to potentially steal your attention and affection away.”

After Rebecca had spelled it out for her, a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It had felt like she’d needed to voice that thought for too long.

Riza’s mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound leaving her. It caused Rebecca’s eyebrows to shoot up as she witnessed it, never expecting to render her friend, Riza Hawkeye, so speechless. Her amusement slowly spread across her face, widening her lips into a large grin.

“You didn’t know?”

“I –” Riza’s mouth snapped shut.

“Oh my God,” Rebecca cackled, leaning back against the cushions. It was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. How could Riza not know? It was so obvious!

“Becca.” Riza tried to snap her warning, but it was weak in comparison to what it usually was. It was closer to a plea than a warning.

“That’s too funny,” Rebecca cried, trying to calm herself.

“Becca, stop.”

“No one’s going to overhear,” Rebecca waved off her concern.

“No, it’s not that –” Riza’s eyes closed and she took a deep breath. The skin of her cheeks had almost returned to their normal colour, but her neck was still flushed. “I know.”

Rebecca’s quiet laughter was cut off quickly. She bolted upright, staring at her friend with disbelief as the wine sloshed around the glass. Leaning forward, she strained to hear her friend. “Wait, you know? Know what?”

Sighing in frustration, Riza looked up towards the ceiling for a brief second. “I know about his feelings towards me,” she admitted so quietly, Rebecca had to strain further forward. “And he knows mine.”

Now, it was Rebecca who was left blinking at her friend, mouth hanging open. “What?”

“We know,” Riza stressed, not offering Rebecca much more than that.

A few more moments of silence passed.

“Wait, when? How? Where?”

“Years ago.” Riza’s eyes were cast down, staring at her almost untouched wine.

“Damn.”

Riza snorted softly at Rebecca’s reaction, shaking her head.

“So… He’s jealous then?”

Riza had arrived at the same conclusion Rebecca had, although much earlier. When Rebecca thought Riza wasn’t aware of Mustang’s feelings towards her, that was when Riza realised that not all was as it seemed. It was Rebecca who’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. They’d only argued earlier because he was jealous, and Riza hadn’t realised or considered that until just then.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Riza agreed glumly.

“I mean, it doesn’t excuse, but I guess it does explain Mustang’s behaviour. Especially with the way Wellwood looks at you sometimes.”

“Wait, how does Wellwood look at me?” Riza was horrified.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You are oblivious to everything,” she complained.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. And it makes sense if Roy experiences that in regard to you. Especially if it what happened between you two occurred years ago – Wait, you need to fill me in on this.” Rebecca interrupted herself, pointing a warning finger at Riza. “We’re not going any further with this tonight until I get the full story.”

A small smile appeared on Riza’s lips. “All right,” she nodded, lifting her glass to finally take a drink.

*          *          *

“Hi.”

The voice was quiet, speaking into the tension of the room. Roy was on edge, testing out her mood to see if they’d be having another argument or if they would be speaking on calmer terms. Still, he’d reached out and made the first move. A sign that he way be ready to discuss things like adults.

Riza closed her apartment door softly, hearing the lock slide closed for the night.

“You’re still here?” That was neutral ground.

“Of course.”

Okay, so maybe not so neutral ground. Especially when he voiced it so simply, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. There was a hint of hurt laced in his tone, his throat catching at the tail end of the sentence.

Even with the alcohol leaving her buzzed, Riza made a good choice not to speak her mind so freely. She decided not to tell him that she’d expected him to leave after their stupid argument.

Mustang would do anything for you, Riza. She shook the memory of Rebecca’s words from her mind. But it didn’t work. Another popped into her head. So… He’s jealous then? It was a hard concept to grasp. Roy owned her heart completely and had done so for years. She expected them both to be passed things like that. She and Lieutenant Wellwood had only shared civil conversation prior to her and Roy’s argument. There were no grounds for Roy’s jealousy. However, like Rebecca said, perhaps she’d been completely oblivious.

“How was your night?”

He’d waited for her to come home. He could use the excuse that he was dog sitting Hayate, but the pup could be left on his own for a few hours by himself. Riza preferred Hayate was never alone but sometimes it had to happen. It didn’t help that the only reason she’d left was because of their argument. She’d sought out Rebecca in the aftermath of their heated discussion, leaving Roy to cool off and calm down before she spoke to him again.

“Fine.” She turned and walked into her apartment, shrugging the strap of her purse off her shoulder.

“How was the walk home?”

Riza caught Roy’s eye, noticing how he was anxious. Normally, if she were out, he’d call and ask if she wanted a ride home or company on her walk. He seemed surprised she was back so soon, but after Rebecca’s jealousy comment, all Riza’s anger had fizzled out of her. They needed to talk as soon as possible. After an abridged tale of their history, Rebecca had let her leave.

“It was all right,” Riza replied, placating his worries. Despite the fact she carried a loaded gun on her person at all times, he still fretted. Because he loves you. Sighing one last time, Riza placed her purse on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch next to him.

“I’m sorry for saying what I said,” Roy started, gearing up for a big apology. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything or accuse –”

“Roy, it’s fine,” she reassured softly.

The fight left him, lowering his shoulders and relaxing the muscles of his face. He eyed her for a second longer before nodding once, dropping his gaze to his lap.

“I talked it through with Rebecca.”

“I can imagine the slander,” he jested, the corners of his lips tugging upwards, but not quite making it to a smile.

Riza chuckled, patting his knee. “There wasn’t a lot.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

Shaking her head Riza shrugged out of her jacket and lay it atop her purse on the table.

“Sorry for making you angry, too,” Roy added sheepishly. “I was an idiot.”

“You were… But jealousy doesn’t always play a fair game either.”

Roy nodded silently, swallowing thickly. “I was jealous. It’s so stupid,” he scoffed.

“And I didn’t realise,” Riza countered. “Rebecca called me oblivious.”

“You had no idea?”

“None,” Riza confirmed. “But, I won’t be kept away from doing my job, Roy.”

“No, I know that. It’s just…” A quiet strangled sound left his throat. “Never mind,” he muttered, glancing away.

“What?”

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

“It’s clearly something.” Riza dipped her head to try and catch his eye. At the same time, she reached out, grasping his hand tightly and giving it a squeeze. “What is it?” Her prompt was gentle, coaxing him to voice his thoughts. They would achieve nothing if they weren’t open and honest with one another.

His gaze turned hard, his jaw setting as it clenched. “I overheard him talking about you with some of the other officers.” His head turned, making direct contact with her. “It wasn’t innocent.”

Riza’s expression turned into one of distaste. “I see.”

“It pissed me off. So…” A heavy breath left him, his chest rising and falling significantly. “I kind of lost it. And while I might have been jealous, I was also pissed at him. It was way out of line for me to demand you not to see him, and for that, I apologise. That’s not the kind of person I want to be either.”

Taking in his expression, Riza saw his clear regret. It had been out of character for him. Roy was not possessive, but he was protective and certainly more prone to emotional decisions than her. Especially when it came to her. She could understand where he was coming from but was pleased to hear his apology as well.

“It was out of line for that demand,” Riza agreed, “but I can understand your reasons.” Pulling away, she rolled her shoulders and straightened her spine. “Besides, my weapon won’t be far from my side when working with Wellwood. I can certainly shoot him if he tries anything.”

Roy snorted, shaking his head fondly.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. Thank you for telling me about his behaviour.”

“Sorry my behaviour started an unnecessary argument and drove you off.”

“You didn’t drive me off. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are.” Roy smiled the first full smile that evening, and it warmed her heart to see. “But I still kind of did.”

“Like you, I was pissed. And my weapon was very close by you,” she smiled wryly, “I thought it was best to leave.”

Roy chuckled. “I wouldn’t doubt you’d shoot me for being so foolish. It would be what I deserved, anyway,” he muttered to himself.

“All is forgiven.”

Riza leaned towards him slowly, tilting her head so that it could rest against his. Roy met her halfway and her eyes fluttered closed as they gently made contact. Strands of his hair kissed the skin of her forehead, tickling her. Air puffed upwards, out of her mouth as she tried to shift it.

“Sorry.” Roy’s shoulders shook with his amusement. A deep laugh rumbled inside his chest.

“You need a haircut.”

“What? You don’t like this boyish look?”

“Not when it tickles me.”

“That’s fair enough.”

Her stomach dropped for the briefest of seconds as he pulled away from her, but her fears were eased when she felt his lips press against her scalp. Eyes that had popped open in worry softened and fluttered closed under his affection.

“I love you.” The words were quiet and murmured, his breath shifting her hair with a gentle force. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

“You’re worth it,” Riza countered immediately and sincerely. She glanced up at him, seeing the adoration in his eyes and the small smirk on his face. “Love you too, Roy.”

They joined together, after a tumultuous start to their evening, their lips pressing softly together. His touch was tender as he grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Her hand sought out his free one, gripping into it tightly, anchoring herself to him. Her heartbeat steadied and evened out, basking in the love he was showering over her. All her muscles finally relaxed now that she was home, next to him.

[eirian-houpe]

Hydrangea

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Maurice | Moe French Additional Tags: Memories, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, A Monthly Rumbelling August 2021 Series: Part 5 of The Language of Flowers

Summary: Belle is still in hospital after her accident out by the woods. Rumple catches her bookmark just as it is about to slip onto the bed, and together they reminisce about the first time he gave her flowers.

Read on AO3

Hydrangea

Gold sat in the hospital chair, beside the bed in which Belle was still confined. He didn’t want her there, didn’t trust the care she was getting to be what she needed. Now that they’d tended her wounds and given her the blood she needed to replace what was lost, he wanted her home, where he could care for her properly.

It bothered him, too, the way Jefferson had suddenly almost run from the room, on the gods knew what errand. One kindled by the coltsfoot flower that Belle had found on the library doorstep… was it only that morning? It felt like a thousand years ago.

He didn’t speak. He hadn’t for some time. Belle had been reading, and had fallen asleep with her book in her hands, and he didn’t want to disturb her. Only when it seemed the bookmark she held loosely in one hand, and the book that rested on the top of the covers, began to slip, did he reach out and take them gently from her, placing the book face down and open on the tray table beside the bed, while he stared at the bookmark, running his fingers over the pink, heart-shaped flowers that had been pressed and mounted onto the light blue card of the home made bookmark.

“Hydrangea.” Belle’s voice was soft, a little hoarse, and heavy with sleep.

“Sweetheart,” Gold answered, “you should be resting.”

She shook her head, just a little, and persisted, “They were the first flowers you ever gave me. Do you remember?”

Gold closed his eyes, letting his mind slip back into a past, a recent past but one which also felt as though it was hundreds of years ago.

“It wasn’t long after you arrived,” he said - knowing that wasn’t entirely the truth, but knowing also that Belle was still unaware of their previous life, or who they truly were to one another. “You were standing on the street outside of the library with the key in your hand.”

“The library key,” she agreed. “I remember. You wore a red tie. It stood out so much. I thought it was very bold.”

Gold chuckled. “Bold?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Belle said, and blushed. “Dark and broodingly handsome, and this huge statement that I just couldn’t ignore.” She looked down at her fingernails, and played with them until Gold reached out and gently took her hands in his. “I wanted to talk to you, but somehow I couldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he reassured her. “In the end we got talking.”

“Thanks to the flowers, and the little game you always played.” She looked up, smiling fondly at him, her blush still not faded. “Do you remember what you said, when you brought them…?”

It was a warm enough day that he could fore go the heavy overcoat, in favor of the fine woolen suit when he made his rounds of the town. There were a few stragglers from whom he still needed to collect rent, and that was his first order of business. Then he’d spotted her from the corner of his eye.

He’d seen her before, though usually she looked distressed. Today, however, she seemed the embodiment of excitement. She stood in front of the library doors, clearly holding the key in her hand, bouncing on her toes as though she couldn’t contain herself. It made him smile.

Few things, and even fewer people brought a smile to his face, and he decided then and there that he would get to know this woman; petite, brown hair half pinned up, half falling around her face, and even across the distance he could see the brightness in the blue of her eyes. 

Beautiful he said to himself, then crossed the street, and walked on his way.

Game of Thorns was a reasonable walk but it gave him time to think, to come up with a strategy. He was  - self confessed - a bit of a coward when it came to women, thanks to Milah he supposed, but for him to think a woman as beautiful as the new librarian might even give him the time of day…?

It was then it hit him. Miss French was the florist’s daughter. Had her beauty so affected him that he could forget a simple fact like that?

“What do you want, Gold?” Mo French, as hospitable as ever, spat the words the moment he set foot inside the shop. No wonder his business was barely solvent if he treated all his potential customers that way. Of course, to be fair, the indebted proprietor most likely thought he was there to collect the rent money owed, rather than to purchase flowers, as was his intention, but it didn’t hurt to ruffle a few feathers every now and then. “I told you I’d bring you the rent by close of business today and—”

“Mister French,” he cut the man off, keeping his voice calm, almost convivial. He held up a hand to forestall any other comment by the boorish, irritating imbecile. “I’m sure you’re a man of your word. No, my purpose is not harassment - though I would be quite within my rights to do so - however, I’m here on business of another kind.”

“Oh?” French’s brows knitted in confusion.

“Flowers,” Gold said, and gestured around them. “And when one wishes for flowers, where else would one go except to a florists?”

“Well, in that case…” The man’s attitude changed as though someone had flipped a switch - not that Gold believed it any more than he believed that Mo French would give him the rent before five that evening, but - for now - he was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. “What can I do for you, Mister Gold.”

Gold looked around at the many options he had. Roses were a little too forward, in his opinion, and the lilies that caught his eye were somewhat too somber.

“I’m looking for something to bring a little brightness into what I’m sure is a space that needs it. Nothing too ostentatious, but something that would… break the ice between strangers,” he said.

French thought for a while, looking around at his stock, and asked, “Bouquet, or… perhaps something in a vase?”

“That would be lovely,” Gold answered. “Could you make an arrangement with those?” He pointed toward a bucket in which a number of blooms rested; tight balls of flowers, with heart shaped petals, in various colors. “The pink, if you please.”

And so it was, that several moments later, Gold left Game of Thorns with a classic shaped vase in which an arrangements of hydrangeas, green leaves, and the white of baby’s breath had been made.

Belle rubbed the itching tip of her nose with the back of her dirty hands, and blew the hair out of her face as she straightened up from dusting the circulation desk of the library. Already the room was a hundred times better than before just from having removed the paper from the windows, but now her hands were covered in news print, and the dust was making her want to sneeze and rub her eyes.  She had visions of herself ending up looking like some kind of koala.

She chuckled to herself just as the door opened, and a vase of flowers came in, followed by the determined tread of Mister Gold. Besides the flowers, the thing she most noticed was the bold red of his tie, which stood out against the immaculate darkness of his suit as though some kind of beacon.

She’d heard her father speak of the fearsome Mister Gold many times, and usually in some of the most derogatory tones that she’d ever heard him use, but seeing Gold, standing there in the doorway of the library, looking awkward behind the shield of flowers, she didn’t find him at all fearsome, much less objectionable.

“Mister Gold,” she greeted him with a smile. “I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to open the library just yet. It still needs a little attention.”

“Oh, no rush, Miss French,” he answered, taking an almost hesitant step further into the library, “I just thought…” She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and then finished sheepishly, “Well, these are for you. I thought they might… help to brighten up the place.”

She came around the circulation desk as he offered the vase, and took it from him. “That’s very kind of you,” she said, and she felt herself lighten as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her flowers. “Very thoughtful.”

“My pleasure,” he told her, and returned her smile. “And please,” he added, “If there’s any way I can help you with anything you might need to reopen the library, my shop is just across the way.”  She glanced in the direction he indicated, though she already knew the location of his shop - everyone did - but somehow, the offer made her feel… warm inside; special.

…Belle smiled, remembering the moment as Rumple described it, and described how he felt. The warmth of it helped to make her feel lighter, happier than anyone lying in a hospital bed had any business feeling.

“For the first time in as long as I could remember, I just didn’t know what to do with myself,” he confessed, taking her hand in his once more.

“But you did know, Rumple,” she corrected him softly. All of the pressed flowers you hid inside the books you borrowed…” she trailed off a small frown crossing her face.

“Sweetheart?” he prompted. “Are you all right? Do you need me to get someo—”

“Did you ever read any of those books?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Or were they just an excuse to keep… coming into the library?”

“Some,” he said. “One or two.”  He crumpled under the weight of her teasing scrutiny. “All right, barely any. I always meant to… and I started one or two, but then…”

“Then…?”

“Well… I had to get you to notice me… to fall in love with me somehow,” he said, and she knew that behind his teasing, there was a large degree of truth.

“You thought I hadn’t noticed you?” she frowned again. “Every week for years you gave me a pressed flower, hidden in a book… you truly made love a mystery to uncover, with each and every one of those gifts. How could I not notice you, when I cherished and still cherish you so much?”

“Oh, Belle,” he answered, moving to perch on the side of the hospital bed so that he could lean down to kiss her softly.

“I love you, Rumple,” she said.

“And I love you too.”

[dreaming-gamer]

Magic Touch – Nero X V – Chapter 5

Firefighter Nero X Massage Therapist V

Back with a new chapter! And it turned out pretty long so more under the cut! ^^

@thedyingmoon 💜💜💜

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

V wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Frankly, he hadn’t seen himself as a man with time for… well, a significant other during the last months... perhaps the entire year really. Work used up his time, as did the various activities as a part of the literature association. Not to mention a few other activities, he certainly needed to check his schedule for an appropriate time for the animal shelter as well… V could admit that he worked a lot but it was hard not to do when, well… he enjoyed seeing somebody completely refreshed after one of his treatments. Or seeing somebody’s eyes light up from inspiration. Or seeing a small life find comfort, for the first time in a while.

V wouldn’t say he was an angel by any means, if somebody underestimated him and asked him to use some force, he certainly would and even feel a bit satisfied, when they then asked him to let up. Hopefully with a new sense of respect for his profession. Yes, he might look weak and he might be compared to other, more well-trained men. But this was a role he had chosen for himself, of course he would execute it with pride and professionalism.

Nero had done something he’d never experienced before however. Despite sounding rather cocky while under V’s hands, he’d… apologized, after the treatment. As well as complimented him, in fact. V had been thanked for his services before, but nobody had ever apologized for sounding disrespectful. Not that V had felt that offended even, Nero had certainly been a mild case.

The incident had made Nero a name and face that stuck in his memory however, even though V had not expected the firefighter to show up at the spa again. It hadn’t seemed like a place Nero was very used to.

And he certainly had not expected Nero to show up at times when he needed aid. Nor that his new apartment would be right across the street from said Nero Sparda.

Was there not an old saying, that if you met three times, it was meant to be? V had never put much weight into the words, it was a romantic saying certainly but not one he’d ever thought would happen to him.

But Nero was kind. More observant than he expected. His heart seemed to burn with the will to help, in a way V found himself respect. Not to mention that he found it charming, Nero’s openhearted reactions endearing, he was like a book and V felt as if he was starting to understand his language. Or maybe he was fooling himself into hoping so, for Nero’s suggestion of giving him a massage, as well as his words… V couldn’t deny that Nero had surprised him. In a good way because his shoulders actually felt a little less stiff now and it was quite refreshing.

And yet, Nero’s yes to his half teasing suggestion had been another surprise. A… welcome one. A weekly reminder to relax could be something he admittedly needed.

Just like the note he had found just inside the door when he came home late, that same evening after how they had abruptly parted. V certainly still felt a bit bad about how he had left the kind firefighter, not to mention at such a moment…They had not known each other for long, maybe they should not advance so quickly… and yet when Nero’s face had been that close, V had found himself tempted to taste his lips. Very… tempted in fact.

V slowly bent down to collect the folded note just below his mailbox, a simple page torn from a notebook it looked like, with some scribbled words that were honestly a bit hard to read, not too small but crooked.

“Hey. Hope everything went well with that meeting-thingy. Do you wanna exchange numbers? Here’s mine:” it read, followed by a cellphone number and an easy to read signature. Nero.

V found his lips curve into a smirk as he read, so Nero finally gathered the courage. At the garage, V had certainly heard him, but decided not to push or perhaps it had also been a way to test if the other man was truly so… interested. V couldn’t deny that it spread a sense of intrigue inside. The words were simple yes, but they did speak of Nero’s kindness yet again. As well as his interest. An interest that V to his slight surprise, felt himself share.

V’s phone was in his pocket but even though the device was certainly necessary for communication, he had never appreciated the written word in text messages in the same way he enjoyed books.

If Nero was thoughtful enough to give him a handwritten note, why not respond in kind? Of course, he could send a simple text message but… V rarely texted. And if he did it was without those emojis that he barely understood the meaning of.

His apartment was still a glorified chaos adding a heavy feeling to his shoulders. Oh, how he longed for it to be done, to arrive at a point where he was happy with his new home and did not have to feel stress over its somewhat unfinished state. Perhaps he’d do just a little bit more unpacking, before bed…

But first a reply to this note. In one of the many boxes of books waiting to be unpacked he found a beautiful notebook, the black leather of its cover was smooth against his fingers. It did not matter that the notebook had only had half its original number of pages when he found it at a second-hand store, it still spoke to him. Upon one lined page, V started to write with neat letters, surprised at how easy it was to find the right words.

He signed it with his own phone number and a single V. Smirking a bit to himself, he carefully tore it out and folded the paper once. It was already quite late so he would have to wait until the morning until he could leave it in Nero’s mailbox, since the front door to the apartment building had already been locked.

V couldn’t help but wonder, what Nero’s home looked like. It felt like details about the firefighter stuck quite easily in his mind, despite him not putting an effort into doing so. With a small smile the massage therapist looked out the window, to the apartment building right across from his. The distance certainly didn’t give him any clue how Nero’s home could supposedly look, but he was nevertheless interested.

A gentle light seemed to be on, in one of the rooms. Perhaps Nero’s apartment had the same layout as his with two rooms, a kitchen as well as a bathroom. The firefighter might have gone to bed, as V certainly ought to do but nevertheless it could wait just a little. His hand trembled slightly as he put the cane away next to the door. Just one or two boxes to unpack then he should head to sleep. As for the promise he and Nero had shared, of reminding each other of doing one relaxing activity per week… It was not as if they had promised to do this relaxing activity together, but V wished for the promise to bear fruit.

“He who desires but act not… breeds pestilence.” He quoted quietly, kneeling next to a box of yet more books, carefully undoing the tape on it. There was truth to those words, he knew and he certainly… desired to know Nero a bit better. Suddenly finding themselves as neighbors, they were bound to continue running into each other. And he did not mind the thought one bit.

***

Nero groaned at the rays of sunshine that peeked through the crack in the blinds, turning himself over. With awareness slowly rising, so did his thoughts and they made him groan louder, the pillow masking the sound as he stuffed his face into it.

The kiss had been so close! Was that going to be the default state of their flirting tango or what was going on? Nero pulled out, trying to pick himself up. Okay the moment had been lost, but they had at least shared a moment. And V still lived across the street for him, not to mention that Nero had left his number for the other man to find in his mailbox.

His thoughts clicked into place.

Nero quickly grabbed for the cellphone on the small bedside table, feeling butterflies of hope flutter in his stomach as he picked up his phone and checked.

The screen didn’t show any new messages. Just the glaring numbers that told him he needed to get up in a few minutes, if he wanted enough time to get ready for work. Instantly the tornado of fluttering wings stopped.

Oh come on, he might just not have seen the note yet. Maybe he got home really late and crashed into bed. Whatever the crisis that V had had to avert was, Nero sure hoped it had all worked out. Considering that he was still in the middle of a move, as well as working… some rest should do him good.

Writing that note had taken courage on Nero’s part, but after what had almost happened, as well as their promise, he seriously wanted to believe that he had a chance with V. This anticipation was really something different than how he’d felt when he’d started to date Kyrie and well… he kinda liked it. Despite the constant ups and downs when it came to his hope.

Nero put his phone away and got up. One glance through the window didn’t tell him a lot about how V’s morning was. There were no blinds pulled down, so maybe the massage therapist was up, or maybe he simply hadn’t bothered to pull them down when he got home. V didn’t have morning sun to worry about, unlike Nero.

And Nero didn’t really have time to get caught up in thoughts about the tattooed man even if he wanted to since he had work to get ready for. It was all routine at this point a quick shower, shave and something to eat. This morning it consisted of a spinach smoothie with pineapple, cucumber, kiwi and just a touch of ginger and lime. The smoothie cookbook that Kyrie had given him as an extra birthday present had come more in handy than he’d expected but then again, she had been the one to teach him that a blender could fix some easy and portable breakfast if he so wished.

It wasn’t until Nero grabbed his keys, put his shoes on and pulled his backpack over one shoulder that he realized that there was a note on his carpet, just inside the door.

Could it be—It sure as hell wasn’t the electric bill. Nero was quick to reach down but his fingers hesitated, just before reaching the smooth paper surface. His pulse was suddenly loud in his ears, the hopeful butterflies returning full force in his stomach. Last evening had almost reached a stage that he felt sure he was willing to explore… and he wanted to think V felt the same. Or did he think they were moving too fast? V seemed to have a lot on his plate overall. Maybe Nero should just clear with him if this promise meant… dating, or not.

Not wanting to torment himself with uncertainty about the note’s content anymore, Nero’s fingers gripped the paper. It was lined, seemed to be very properly ripped from a notebook or something.

So this is his handwriting. Nero couldn’t help but notice it first of all, how neat it was. Beautiful even, with a flow to the characters he had selected for Nero’s eyes and Nero’s eyes only.

“I apologize again for my sudden leave. The meeting was fruitful, the crisis averted. Thank you for your note. As you can see, I would certainly like to exchange phone numbers. If you are free, would you be interested in meeting up at a café later this week?” At the very end was the number stated, as well as a simple, elegant V.

Nero grinned to himself, a warm almost tickling feeling in his chest. The guy’s mannerisms continued in text it seemed. He sure hadn’t expected any slang in there, but Nero couldn’t help but find it a bit funny. How much like V this little note felt. Even the question he had a damn sure answer to.

And most of all.

He had finally gotten V’s number. They were neighbors even! Nero grinned, folded the note and put it in his pocket as he left the apartment, heading downstairs for his car. It felt like his heart was dancing to the tones of a victory march only he could hear from the way it pounded hard in his chest. V must have at least a little interest in him too and the thought was making him soar on his way down to the ground floor.

The second he got to his car and sat in the driver seat, Nero fished out the note and added V’s number to his contacts. With a single V just like the note had been signed. It felt so right to see it.

And then he started to type out his first message. Erased and started over a few times but finally arriving at something he thought worked for a first message.

“Hey, got your note. I’m up for it! Saturday’s free, works for you? I’m gonna be at work today, until 8 in the morning but I’ll answer when I can. Hope you have a great day. - Nero” A bit… formal maybe, but he wanted to make sure V knew why he wasn’t replying to his message quickly, in case V wrote back way before he had a chance to answer.

“Alright…” Nero put away his phone and started the engine of his car with a grin on his face. It felt like he could run ten miles, so he was actually looking forward to the training at work. But even more so, to an answer from V.

***

Nero’s hands and eyes checked his personal protective gear as was mandatory at the start of their day, but his mind was constantly trying to wander to a certain poet. Curiosity was tickling him every other minute making him wonder if V had answered, how his day was going to be. Before Nero had to check the equipment on the firetruck, he managed to sneak in a check on his phone. Nothing.

He swallowed down a small but tangible lump of disappointment that formed in his throat, V was probably busy but Nero couldn’t help anticipating the answer so much. What if communication with V could become a daily occurrence? The thought made him smile a bit to himself and when he was cleaning the fire truck washing it down with a hose, he almost didn’t notice how one of his colleagues was talking to him at all.

Only at the third (loud) call did he look up and turn the hose off. Man, he needed to get his head in the game. Once the washing and equipment check of the firetruck was done, Nero rolled his shoulders and headed for his scheduled training. Running half an hour on the treadmill should help rebuild his focus, no matter how much he wished to have the massage therapist in mind for the entire day. He had work to do.

***

For the hours that followed, Nero didn’t count how many times he managed to check his phone but they were not as plentiful as he would have liked. Just disappointing each time as V had yet to reply to his text. It was with a sigh he put his phone down after every check.

Duty kept Nero busy for the rest of the day and when he returned alongside his colleagues to the fire station in the evening as they needed to fix themselves dinner he kept his back straight, chest a bit puffed out in pride.

It had been a busy day with responding to fire calls in several parts of the city, once in a park where some teenagers had been playing around a bit too much with a lighter and a trashcan, once in an apartment building where someone had forgotten a pan on the stove. The latter was a scenario that happened a bit more frequently than he would have liked but luckily, neither of these incidents had turned too serious. Nobody was hurt, but there had been smoke and scorch marks in the incidents’ wake.

But damage to buildings and environments could be repaired, lives couldn’t.

Nero shrugged off his jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the protective fabric as he put the garment into his locker. His colleagues were discussing dinner alternatives all over the locker room while he fished out his phone from his bag and his heart leapt.

There was a reply.

“I’m at work as well. If you do not mind us meeting up in the morning, Saturday will be fine. I need not be at work until 14:00. I wish you luck at work.”

Nero’s lips pulled back in a grin as he was quick to answer.

“Sounds like we’ve got a brunch date then” Abrupt stop as he checked what he was actually writing and quickly erased the words. It was not like they had… agreed to start dating or something. God, he’d love if that was the case, especially after that almost-kiss that had happened but stating it as such in a text message… what if it was too soon? Nero didn’t like the thought of backing down, but this time, his gut told him to rethink it. Just meet up with V and gauge how he might be feeling, without calling it a date beforehand. Nero started his message over.

“Sounds fine to me, let’s meet up for brunch? What do you say, around 11?” Nero was about to send the message, then hesitated and added a: “Hope work’s not too stressful for you.”

Aaand sent!

Nero wasn’t expecting a fast reply since V was at work as well right now, so when the cellphone vibrated the second he was about to put it back in the locker, his heart almost skipped a beat. A wave of eagerness surged in his stomach as he read.

“11:00 works perfectly. I am looking forward to it.”

Those simple words made Nero stare, his heart warming up as if he’d suddenly been hugged. There was no stopping the grin on his face as he wrote back.

“Me too.” And on his lips, that grin remained for the rest of the evening, until he had to try and sleep in his bunk at the fire station.

***

After a quick exchange of messages in the morning it was decided that they would meet up at the café, rather than walk together from their apartment buildings. V had an errand at the library before their meeting so he was already waiting outside the café, with one hand on his cane and the other on his book of poems when Nero caught sight of him, feeling his heart leap in his chest as he approached. Once again, V was dressed in a cotton shirt over a t-shirt and black pants that fit him just right reading as he stood in the shade but Nero could hardly blame him as the sunlight was warming his own back, it was gonna be a hot day. He did notice a slight slouch had returned to V’s shoulders however.

“Hey V, wait long?” The grin appeared on his face by itself. Nero was certain he was early just to be safe, at least ten minutes but V had nevertheless beat him to it.

“Hello Nero. Not at all, I just got here.” V smiled, gently closing his book and putting it away in a small bag hanging from his shoulder.

Nero pulled the door open and held it up for V before entering himself, the chill of the air condition welcoming them, as well as the barista behind the counter. All kinds of sandwiches, pastries and cakes in different shapes and sizes were at display behind the glass and a lot of them looked tasty for sure, even though Nero wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets. He already knew what he wanted, an ice coffee because of the summer heat, and his usual order.

V on the other hand, seemed to regard the many choices for a bit longer, his gaze lingering on both the food and drink choices listed on the board behind the counter as well.

“Do you have any recommendations? I believe it’s the first time I’m here.”

“Oh yeah, uh… the roast beef sandwich is great, that’s what I’m getting. The chicken and pesto sandwich is good too, the shrimp salad is nothing to scoff at, but you better be prepared for a big portion.” Truth be told, V could probably use that. Except Nero had a feeling V wouldn’t be able to finish it since that dish was a BIG plate, with a mountain of salad, shrimps and eggs, to name just some things.

With his lean frame V didn’t really give the impression of being a big eater. And he had just barely finished that Chinese meal the other night. “Or the roasted tomato sandwich with mozzarella... What?��� Nero asked as V seemed to observe him, a hint of amusement visible in his green eyes.

“Nothing, I’m just noting that you seem to have tried out a lot of the options on offer.” The massage therapist said with a small smile.

The tips of Nero’s ears turned red.

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured and there was a reason for that. Kyrie loved coming here, it was her favorite café. And now he was here with a sorta date? At least someone he was very interested to go on a date with and she didn’t know. Nero wasn’t sure how to tell her, or even if… it was a big deal to tell her. It had been months since they broke up and they had parted as friends, so either of them moving along with a new interest was just natural after all. But Kyrie was also important to him. He had known her for most of his life after all. There just wasn’t any romantic feelings between them anymore, that was all. He still cared greatly about her, but in a different way than the relationship they had, had called for.

V seemed to notice the thoughtful look on his face.

“Is something the matter?”

“Huh? Never mind. You decided?” It took another minute or two until V did decide, just before there would be a line behind them. Carrying their ordered drinks the two men went to a table in the back, next to the window and sat down across from each other.

“So, that meeting thing you had to go to resolved itself?” Nero wondered, taking a sip of his iced coffee while trying hard not to stare at how V’s open shirt and v-collared t-shirt showed off some of his intricate tattoos.

V let his cane lean against his seat before taking a sip of the tea he had ordered, it smelled of fresh mint, along with an herbal scent Nero couldn’t place.

“It did, as a matter of fact. Or should I say... the solution was finalized, this morning. There was an urgent problem with the venue we had arranged, for the poetry reading I told you about. I asked the manager at the library if it is possible for us to have our poetry reading there. I received a positive response.” V smirked.

“Wow, that’s great.” Nero felt a slight relief at the fact. Poetry might fly over his head most of the time, why try to analyze what words meant instead of just writing exactly what they meant? To V however, it seemed to be of great interest. “So everything’s fixed, no postponing or anything?”

“Thankfully, no. There is just the matter of spreading the word of our new location for it, via social media and the like. Speaking of the poetry reading…” V locked eyes with him, his lips curled upwards in a small smile. “I was wondering if you would like to come? The event is free for all.”

Nero felt the butterflies in his stomach return full force from their slumber. Was V asking him out? Or was he trying to make up for that moment that a phone call had stolen from them? Or was this his way of introducing Nero to his hobbies? It could be all three. Or none.

The tingling feeling in his stomach made him sure he wanted to find out which.

“Sure, I’ll come. When is it?” He grinned. Even if he didn’t get the exact meaning of the poems, if V was the one quoting with that smooth voice of his… yeah, Nero had a feeling he’d enjoy it anyway.

“Next Saturday, at 7 in the evening.”

Nero did a quick mental check of his schedule, groaning as he realized something.

“Dammit I got work that day, 24-hour shift.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate.” V said with a small nod, taking another sip of his tea.

“Yeah… there’s a chance I can switch shifts with someone though, I’ll ask around.” Nero just didn’t have a lot of hope for it, as having Saturday free… yeah, that was kind of in high demand, among some of his colleagues. Nero usually didn’t mind working that shift, it was one of the busiest ones usually, but he liked to keep busy when he was working. Once he had turned single Saturday hadn’t felt as important to have free, suddenly. Until now, that was.

V paused, keeping his teacup hovering just centimeters from his mouth as his green eyes searched Nero’s. A small smile grew on his lips.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to try. If it isn’t possible for you to come, I understand. You have a very important job, for example.” He said, taking that small sip of tea that he had been stalling.

“Yeah sure, but I’ll give it a try. If I can, or can’t make it, I’ll let you know.” Nero grinned.

“Very well.” V agreed, his smile widening a little bit.

A waiter in white clothes with a black apron came by with their ordered food items. Nero felt his mouth water at the glorious roast beef sandwich and some salad on the side that was placed in front of him and his butterfly-assaulted stomach wasn’t used to having to wait so long after waking for some food. V had followed his recommendation and gotten the same meal, his eyes glancing a bit curiously at the sandwich on his plate.

Nero was hungry enough to forgo his utensils, the sandwich might be tall but he didn’t need to dislodge his jaw to take a bite. Crispy bread, juicy meat and fresh salad with a lightly spiced sauce entered his mouth, the flavors perfectly filling and just what he had come to expect from a roast beef sandwich at this place. The first bite was always the best.

Nero didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard a light chuckle from the other side of the table.

“I see that’s a favorite for you.” V said, clearly a bit amused as he grabbed a paper napkin and held it out to Nero. The firefighter blinked.

“Huh?”

V smiled.

“There is some sauce on your chin.”

Nero felt the tips of his ears burn as he fought the urge to just use the back of his hand to wipe it off. Instead he put down his sandwich and as he took the napkin from V, his fingers lightly brushed against the massage therapist’s. For a second, it felt like time stopped and every heartbeat was so loud he could hear it vibrate through his ears. Pulsate in his fingers right where they had connected. V’s fingers felt just as warm as his today.

The flush spread over Nero’s ears all the way to his cheeks as his racing heart made him pull away, stumbling out a “thanks” as he wiped the sauce off his chin while also using the napkin as a shield to hide his blush. Jeez, what was he, a lovestruck high schooler?! Nero felt stupid for pulling away so soon, but one glance at V who took another sip of his tea, seemingly unfazed, told him he might be overreacting. Or so he thought, but there was a soft amusement in those jade depths...

Nero wasn’t going to let this turn awkward, he forced his lips to turn into a cocky grin when he pulled down the napkin, sauce disaster averted. And his face felt a bit less hot, thankfully. They made small talk while continuing eating their meals and Nero managed to keep it less sloppy actually using the fork and knife when it came to eating the salad once the sandwich was gone. With the fork he pierced a slice of tomato.

“So, what do you think?” V had cut up and eaten a few pieces of it, but Nero noted the tea seemed to appeal to him more, half the cup already being gone while he couldn’t say the same for the sandwich. And the salad was already all gone.

“It’s good.” V smirked, that hint of amusement emerging in his green eyes. “I suppose my reaction must seem pretty mild compared to yours.”

Nero grinned, scratching his nose.

“Or mine’s just too excited.” He pointed out feeling so confirmed as V chuckled in response.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying what you like.” They had some time before V had to go to work, or at least so Nero hoped so because… well, there was something he wanted to clarify. But damn, was the thought of doing so terrifying… His stomach flipped around the delicious food in his stomach as if it was starting up a maelstrom.

V was just… so interesting, Nero wanted to know more about him. Hang out with him, hear more of that soft chuckle of his. Share a kiss, share experiences. The idea felt so new, so positive and he hoped with every fiber of his being that V was open to the suggestion as well. But just then V started another topic to speak about and Nero was pulled along to the melodic tone of his deep, alluring voice.

For a while it felt like they talked about everything and nothing. Time and conversation just flowed with them learning new snippets of information about each other. Tastes in music and shows, V told him a bit of his love for poetry, while Nero told of his hobby to sometimes go climbing. Nero shared how he had a dream of being a dog once while V admitted he sometimes spent time at an animal shelter, taking care of the cats and dogs that came in. They spoke of food and habits, with V admitting he often had a hard time eating breakfast in the morning, he usually found himself skipping it or simply drinking only a cup of tea. Without thinking, it made Nero offer to make him breakfast sometime, it just felt natural to do and he wanted to. The small smile that formed on V’s lips from the offer would never seize sending the butterflies in Nero’s stomach off in flight.

Between them there was a curious, positive atmosphere and Nero loved every second of it. So much so that it felt like a stone dropped into his stomach when soft, almost melancholy notes of a violin could be heard from V’s bag. The poet opened up the zipper and pulled out his phone from the bag, his expression turning apologetic.

“My, look at the time… I’m afraid I must be off, if I wish to arrive at work in time.” V said, that sound they had both had heard seemed to be from his set alarm.

“Oh, got it.” A breath left Nero in a rush, these words wished to be said. “I had a great time.” A grin tugged at his lips and would those butterflies in his stomach ever tire themselves out because as V rose from his seat, giving Nero a soft smile, their tiny wings gently fluttered against the inside of his stomach, making him want to gaze upon that smile forever and ever.

“As did I.” V assured gently, pulling the strap of his bag over his head, fixing it to his shoulder. “Do let me know if you will be able to make it on Saturday. But please remember that it’s quite fine if you can’t make it. Work is work, after all.”

“Promise I will. But I’ll try to get the day free.” Nero pointed out, scrambling to get ready to leave as well. Besides, he had taken the weekend shifts for others before so hopefully someone could switch with him for once.

V just gave him a grateful smile. Nero pulled open the cafe door for them both, letting V exit first before following.

“I parked my car nearby, it’s fine if you wish to separate here.” V told him.

Nero didn’t want to separate at all, but of course he knew they had to eventually. It was impossible to not look forward to when they would meet next. Hopefully the coming Saturday. But how was he to say goodbye now, without having asked what he felt he should have? Where did they stand now? Was this coming Saturday to consider as a date? Had that close to kiss between them just been a fluke?

Would asking V about it destroy this wonderful, carefree atmosphere between them? Or was he waiting for it with his heart set on an answer?

“Yeah, well, I guess we should…” He started, holding back the urge to ask when he suddenly felt V’s hand on his arm.

Warmth. Something soft against his cheek. His mind felt completely blank until he realized that it was a kiss, an actual kiss from V’s plump, lovely lips being placed against his cheek.

It felt like he went to heaven, like his feet would start floating and bring his entire body upward.

As he blinked with warmth spreading in his cheeks, making them a blossoming red and his eyes wide, he found V smirking in that devilish way he had so come to love.

“Thank you for the lovely date. If not possible earlier, I’ll see you in a week.” V said, his smirk remaining in place as he started to make his leave.

Any and all nervous tension of what their flirting tango would bring left, the butterflies turning to a fluttery but lovely warmth in Nero’s stomach. And he felt sure he’d do anything to get that next Saturday free!

“I’ll see you at the poetry reading!” Nero promised, his stomach flopping as he realized he had been too starstruck to answer at first, his cheek still feeling so warm… He grinned widely at V, feeling as if the next time they could meet couldn’t come soon enough. If sooner than Saturday was possible, he would take it for sure. But if not, then he would do all he could to make sure that Saturday would work.

V stopped in his slow but deliberate stride, straightening his slouch slightly to present him that smirk again, along with a wave.

“Saturday then.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️❤️

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Part 7

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. Incantation used in this chapter was taken from SuperWiki.

WC: 6.8K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Characters: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased), Pamela Barnes

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

The bedroom chamber was so quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of children playing in the gardens rising up through the open window. Despite the gleeful sounds that played softly in the background, you felt as if the wind had been knocked free from your chest and felt your stomach drop. 

Looking between the Lords Winchester, you could see that Sam and Dean were also struggling with what had been revealed. You wanted to speak, had every intention to do so, but there was no air to propel any words forth.

“I--I don’t even know how to comprehend that, Dean. Why--What would make you think that our father could even entertain an idea like that?”

“Something I overheard… Look, Sammy, I don’t know what the Hell dad and Crowley are planning. I just know what I heard.”

“Which was?” Sam asked with exasperation.

“The only reason Crowley aided us with reinforcements, was because he’d made a deal.”

“Crowley, the King of Hell, make a deal? C’mon man, that’s just a Monday morning for him. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because, part of this deal was Crowley promised Eve a new life. One created from the blood of her enemies.”

“Wh--Why? Why would she want that? She’s got all of Purgatory at her side. She has the ability to create whatever kind of life she wants!”

“Not a human life,” Dean shrugged in response. “But, I did over hear this from one of his demons, so take it with a grain of salt, wouldya?”

“Our father is a lot of things, but a monster that could sacrifice his own flesh and blood?”

“Sounds more like my father, than yours,” you replied softly. “Crowley would sacrifice anyone if it meant cementing his crown.”

“Even you?” Dean asked.

“Yes, even me.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll be nominating as father of the year,” Dean quipped and let his half smile fade as he made eye contact with Sam.

Sam pursed his lips tightly and sighed. “We need answers. Speculating what our father’s are up to won’t help anyone.”

“And how do you plan on getting that assurance, husband? Crowley won’t show here unless summoned. The King, if this is what is planned, won’t tell you. So, how--”

Sam grabbed your shoulder and gently turned you to face him. You did your best to stay stoic, but couldn’t help but so cracks beneath the surface. “I promise you, I will find out one way or the other. That’s the pact, right? We work together to uncover their plan--”

“Yeah, and don’t go making any babies until then,” Dean mumbled, and smiley shyly when you and Sam both looked at him with a quiet disdain. 

Yet, Dean’s words fell heavy on both you and Sam. Knowing how you had spent the night before, a quick glance between you two left a cold, numbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sam could almost read your mind, and gave your shoulder a loving squeeze. 

“We will get answers. But Dean’s right. Until we do, we will keep up appearances, but take no chances in creating a child.”

All you could do was nod slightly in response and present your husband with a demure smile. 

Dean cleared his throat to break up the moment. “I hate to pull your husband away, (Y/N) but I think he and I have some things to figure out before I have to leave for the Front again.”

“Wait,” Sam released you and quickly turned towards his brother. “What do you mean, go back? I thought you were home!”

“Just for a few days little brother. With Crowley’s reinforcements arriving, and the damage the rift storm caused, I can’t leave the Winchester Guard unprotected. Besides, we are actually making some headway having those black-eyed bitches with us. I hate to say it, but they are helping. I just don’t trust they won’t try and possess a few of our men if given the chance.”

Sam nodded in reluctant agreement. “I get it. It’s just, I could use you here.”

“I know, man. I do. But…”

“The greater good,” Sam replied with a half-defeated smile. “I guess we should go then, see what we can learn together while you’re here.”

“And don’t forget, plan a celebration…” Dean’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on you, but you were unsure of what he meant. 

“A celebration?”

“Yes, my father thinks we should have a large celebration, open the gates to the castle and allow the people of Lawrence to rejoice with us.”

“What’s the occasion?” you asked, not liking the sound of the King’s latest decree.

Sam signed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Our marriage and Dean’s return.”

“I see…” You hated the idea, but thought there was some way to use this to your collective advantage. “Well, one way or another we will make it work for us.”

Sam’s smile grew wide across his face, creating the cavernous dimples you had quickly come to love. “Yes, that’s exactly what we will do.”

Despite Dean’s presence, Sam pulled you into a loving embrace and held you tightly. Though your head was happily buried in Sam’s broad chest, you could feel Dean’s eyes watching you again. You understood his hesitancy in you, and your motives, but you wouldn’t let it ruin what you were building with your husband.

When you pulled back from the embrace, Sam turned back towards Dean and slapped his shoulder with one, large hand. “So, what do you say we go do a little digging.” 

Dean didn’t respond, but instead watched his little brother move towards the door to leave. He didn’t budge from his spot, or take his eyes off Sam. 

“Hey, you uh, you forgetting something?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest and watching Sam curiously.

Sam frowned in response and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Well then you must be a witch yourself little brother. Because last I remember, you had yourself a shattered hip that barely let you learn to walk again. Now you’re basically sprinting out the door with no cane, no limp…”

Sam’s face fell instantly and lost color. then passed a nervous glance to you. Able to read his expression, you shrugged in return. ‘Should we tell him?’ ‘I guess… ‘

Sam sighed and snorted an anxious laugh. “Well, I’m not a witch but I am married to one. We got stuck in the rift storm, out in the Elven Woods. Found an old cottage and (Y/N) here worked her magic. Literally. I was able to walk with no pain, no limp… for days.”

“Days? That rift storm was weeks ago. You still look fine to me.”

“Last night, I applied a heavier dose of the ointment. Let it heat by the fire,” you paused and blushed at the memory of what happened after, “and this morning, he’s better than ever.”

“You let her work her hoodoo on you? Sammy, what were you thinking? She’s--”

“Listen here, Dean Winchester,” you interrupted, unable to hold your tongue any longer, “I understand your suspicions of me, I’ve lived with that stigma all my life just because of who my father is. But I grew up to have a mind of my own, and yes, I was taught witchcraft by the most powerful witch in all of Lawrence and beyond. Rowena MacLeod may have shown me the way of magic, but I learned a few things on my own, as well. Including love, compassion, and commitment to those in my favor. Your brother and I had a rocky start, yet we have come to a mutual understanding. If you can’t respect HIS choices in that, then I beg you to reconsider. Your brother is a wonderful man, and has been just as disrespected by his father, as I have been by mine. And if you truly believe, even for a moment, that I am capable of hurting him, well then, frankly, you’re a horses’ ass.”

Your impassioned speech fell heavy in the room for a few moments. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam smirking. Dean’s expression, however, was more shocked than anything.

“Well alright then,” Dean finally said, “I suppose I could be wrong. Hell, hope I am.” 

You straightened your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. “You are wrong, Lord Winchester. Just you wait, you’ll see who’s side I’m on.”

Dean nodded and looked towards Sam. “Come on Sammy, let’s go see what Dad has really got cooking up with the King of Hell.”

Shortly after they left the room, you sat down on the plush bed and sank back into the pillows. A flurry of thoughts and concerns raced through your mind, but as you tucked your arm over your head, hand beneath the pillow, you felt something hard and cool to the touch. Sitting up, you removed the pillows to see the vial that had once been around your neck to be stuck between the large, carved wooden headboard and the down mattress of Sam’s bed. 

A sigh of relief released from your lips; it was so audible you were afraid someone heard you out in the corridor. You clutched the vial to your chest and began to laugh softly. Slipping the cord back around your neck, you let the small bottle fall to your chest, then tucked it beneath your dress. Feeling its weight against your skin gave you more than just relief, it gave you an idea. Unsure if the pieces would fit together, you knew you had to find out. The one person who could answer your questions, was the same woman who taught you how to concoct potions in the first place. 

Rowena.

By the time the sun had hit the midday sky, you were reaching the entrance to the Elven Woods, and clutched at the old leather satchel slung over one shoulder. It was the first time you had ventured back to them since Sam had brought you there the day after the ceremony. ‘The day he tried to kill me,’ you thought. Shaking off the feeling of Sam’s blade against you, you took the first step through the archway to the woods.

As you made your way down the bumpy terrain, you came out to the majestic oak that grew at the fork in the path. It was just as radiant as you had remembered. The sunlight streamed down through its twisted maze of leaves and branches. You could feel its energy calling to you as it did to many magical folk in Lawrence. Somehow the magic you infused into the cream was able to break through the castle’s powerful warding. But the ritual you wanted to perform now, needed this extra boost of power. 

Pressing your hand against the rough bark of the trunk, you closed your eyes and felt the power that lived within its core. Focusing your mind towards that force, you began to feel it seep into your veins. When you finally opened your eyes, you felt a surge of magic like you’d never experienced and watched as the glow around your hand began to fade. It left you even more convinced that you were doing the right thing. Stepping back from the tree, you bowed your head in thanks, and continued down the right path that would lead you to the small cottage you’d found refuge in before. 

It didn’t take long before you could see the familiar shape of the roof peeking out through the trees. You took a last glance up at the sky, unsure if another rift storm would be lurking. Blue skies still reigned above, and you walked the last hundred steps towards the old place. 

You pushed in the door, and was immediately hit by the smell of the dried herbs lining the walls. It was warm and welcoming, and you began to find a love for the vibration you felt standing within its structure. Carefully lifting off the satchel you carried on your shoulder, you laid it down on the long wooden table and unpacked its contents.

Other than the noise you made setting up an altar, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.  Summoning another witch wasn’t exactly difficult, though it did require a certain amount of concentration. Grateful for the quiet, you lit the candles and began to break up the herbs and bones as the Grimoire had instructed. Holding your hands over the cauldron, you sprinkled in the last ingredient, conjured Rowena’s face in your mind and repeated the incantation. 

Upon finishing, a burst of purple light and blue smoke erupted from the old ceramic bowl, engulfing you in its haze. Waving your hands to help it clear, you began to smile the moment you saw a hint of Rowena’s bright red hair emerging through a small clearing in the fog.

“This best be important, dear. I was right in the middle of convincing the Prince of Wales that I was his long lost sister. That man’s money could’ve set me up for life…”

“I’m sorry, grandm--Rowena… but it is important.”

“You know, dearie, there are messengers to deliver important news. Did your father not teach you anythin’?”

Her words conveyed annoyance, but her expression gave you pause to think that maybe she wasn’t as bothered as she wanted you to believe. Rowena’s half smile, pulled into true grin as she surveyed your altar in front of her.

“Impressive. Seems as though you had a good teacher,” she replied smugly, and slowly made her way round to the side you stood on. “So tell me, why did you need to call on grannie?”

“I heard some things. Some details of the pact my father made with the King.”

“Oh?” Rowena’s curiosity was transparent, and as much as you respected her, you knew deep down you couldn’t trust her. “Do tell.”

“I… can’t. I have no reassurance that it’s true, though I do plan on protecting myself if it turns out to be a fact. What I need from you, is to tell me more about this…” you paused and withdrew the vial from beneath your dress.

Rowena took a small step forward and examined the bottle. A devilish smile unfurled on her petite face as her eyes came up to meet yours.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” Her eyes lit up as her painted fingertips carefully toyed with the glass. 

“It’s a love potion. I made it before we came here, in case I needed to protect myself from Lord Winchester.”

“Smart girl, though, poison and hex bags work better in my experience,” she shrugged and let it fall gently back to your chest. “Are you and Samuel getting along? Has he tried to hurt you?”

“Yes. we are getting along now, but he did try to kill me.”

“Yet, here you stand,” her smile grew even wider, “Clever girl… did you have to use that on him?”

“No, and don’t think I will. But…” you trailed off and turned back towards the altar. Pressing your hands against the wood of the table for support, you leaned forward and found the courage to tell her what you wanted to do with it. 

“But…?”

“If what I learned is true, I may need to use it on the King.”

“The King? Oh, please tell me you don’t mean your father…”

“Rowena, please. Of course not. I mean King Winchester. I am afraid the only sure fired way I can divert is his plans--”

“Is to make him fall in love with you?”

You nodded softly, and released your grip on the table. “I don’t want to. The idea of it gives me a sick feeling. But, if it's my last option, then I will do what I must.”

“Fair enough, dear. But where do I fit into this grand scheme of yours?”

“I took the spell from one of your books. I need to know the effects, if there is a curse attached, if I can break it if needed. I only mean to distract the King, not to become his bride next.”

“I don’t know, the King is at least easy on the eyes…”

“Please, don’t even suggest it. I was completely against this whole arrangement, but I have found a kindred spirit in Samuel. I’m sure part of my father’s intention was to have me tortured by this marriage, but really, he only did me a favor.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, you know that son of mine is always lurking. Knowing he did you a service, he may just snatch it right back from you.”

“I know, and it's why I hope I can trust you with this.” You paused and took Rowena’s hand, hoping that you could appeal to the side of her that felt fondness for you, and hatred for her son. “He’s your son… my father. We should be rooting for him, but at what cost? Look at what he’s already taken from both of us. You’re at his beck and call, and he had me marry his enemies, knowing they wanted me to burn solely for having the same blood run through my veins.”

Rowena seemed to be studying you, but you ignored her scrutiny. She stood quiet, contemplating the circumstances, then finally nodded. “You’re not wrong, my dear. My son is, to say the least, a vengeful little man. He’ll take any chance he can to destroy your happiness.”

“I know, that’s why I need to be proactive. So can you… will you, keep this to yourself?”

“Can I keep your motivations quiet? Yes, of course. But I cannot and will not help you with whatever plan you are conjuring. At some point, you have to be your own witch, dear. Can’t rely on dear old Rowena for everything.”

You thought you heard her wrong, but when she took a step back and made a demur shrug with her expression, you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m your granddaughter, and you refuse to help me? We’re family!”

“Oh, sweet child, what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothin’. Family is what you make it. Our bloodlines are poisonous, why do you think I sold Fergus off as a child? He was a rotten little twat. I needed to escape, or be put to death.”

Shaking your head slowly in disbelief, you turned back towards the altar. You could feel anger begin to boil under the surface, and for the first time in your life, felt the same hatred towards Rowena that you carried for your father. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But, I have to look out for myself. Think maybe it’s best if I disappear for a while. Go explore the world a bit. I do wish you luck,” she paused and gave a little smirk when she looked over your altar again. “Seems as if you know what you’re doin’.”

Before you could respond, Rowena mumbled a few words, and was gone. All that she left behind was a swirling mist of violet smoke, and her words ringing in your ears. 

‘...what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothing. Family is what you make it.’

“That’s probably the best thing you’ve ever taught me, grandmother.”

You emerged from the Elven Woods just as the sun was reaching late afternoon. Despite its brilliance, you were left with a chill that ran through your bones. A feeling of certain dread that loomed on the horizon. Stepping across the threshold into the gardens, you took a moment to breathe, and lifted your face towards the warmth of the sun. Losing track of time, you weren’t sure how long you stood that way, just clearing your mind and letting its light wash over the darkness you felt in your gut. 

“Y/N? My Lady… are you alright?”

The older, gravely voice of the Winchester’s Maester brought you out of your unintended meditation. When you lowered your eyes, blinking away the bright spots behind them, you saw Bobby standing there, looking concerned and a bit puzzled. 

“Bobby… yes, I’m... “ you tried to say the word fine, but it wouldn’t seem to work. “...breathing.”

“Need a moment, did ya?” Bobby replied, slowly closing the distance left between you. “You look a bit pale, feeling alright?”

“Yes… well… no. But it’s not an ailment I’m afraid. No herbs or teas to fix this ache.”

“And what kinda ache is that, may I ask?” His tone had shifted from curious to suspicious.

You knew he was a trusted part of Samuel’s family; you had experienced that first hand when he allowed you use of his apothecary. But could you trust him with conspiring against his King in the manner of which you were considering?

“Revelation,” you said, and sighed softly. “Maester Singer… I know Samuel trusts you, so I am hoping I can as well.”

Bobby considered it for a moment, and nodded. “You can, long as you aren’t looking to hurt my boy.”

“Never. I have grown quite fond of Samuel, and hurting him is something I would never consider. Not anymore.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page here. So, spill, what’s got you lookin’ like you just walked over your own grave?”

“Revelations… things I’ve heard. An unspeakable betrayal from those I thought were my family.”

“Well, considering who your dad is, can’t really say you should be surprised.”

“Not just him, Rowena, too. I asked her for help, and she threw me to the wolves.”

“Again--”

“Yes, I understand,” you interrupted and flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Alright, so if they can’t help ya, maybe I can. What is it exactly you need help with?”

“I need answers… I need to know if these things are true.”

“You can ask me. If I know, I’ll give ya an honest answer.”

Taking a moment to think before answering, you passed him a demur smile, and took a few steps around him, before turning back to face him. “I want too, Bobby. I do. But I fear asking puts you in a precarious position. I don’t want to do that to you. Samuel adores you, and frankly, I adore him. So, no, I cannot ask you.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “I may know someone who could help. A friend of mine is back in town. She’s been known to see what us mere mortals can’t.”

“Is she a Dreamwalker?” you asked, a burst of excitement creeping into your tone, despite your sense of being overwhelmed.

“No. But, she’s the best damned psychic I’ve ever known. People around here know her best as ‘The Oracle’. She travels ‘round helpin’ folks however she can. If you need answers, I am pretty sure she can get them for ya.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You’re family, ain’t ya?”

For the first time in a while that day, you smiled a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. So, where do we find this friend of yours?”

The journey to find the Maester’s friend didn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. You didn’t want to be gone too long, or Sam may question where you went. Telling him your plans without all the answers felt dangerous somehow, but taking too long to divulge your thoughts could be just as dangerous. Rowena wasn’t exactly trustworthy, and who knew what she was liable to do with what you’ve already told her. Her agreement to keep it to herself didn’t exactly instill a sense of confidence in you.

Bobby seemed to sense your urgency, and had the horse drawn cart rumbling down the old dirt lane. But once he hit an offbeat path, overgrown with wildflowers and ferns, he eased up on the reins. 

“Almost there, Y/N. When we get there, I’ll make the introductions, but then I’ll wait outside. Been thinkin’ on what you said before, about not wanting to put me in the middle, and I do appreciate that. I may not always agree with John, but I did pledge my loyalty to his family. Sam and Dean, they’re just as much my boys as they are John’s. Hell, sometimes I think even more.”

He paused, and gave a quick glance your way. When you didn’t respond, he looked back towards the path ahead. “I’d give my life to protect both those boys. That includes protection from John, not that it would come to that. I know he’s rough around the edges, but--”

“But, he’s their father. I understand that, Bobby. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is destroy Samuel’s father. Despite their troubles, I couldn’t do that to my husband.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I can see that you are on his side, Y/N. It's why I’m helpin’ ya. I know John’s up to something, and my place in his court puts me at odds with how to handle it. So, if you need some answers, the least I can do is help you get to them.”

As Bobby guided the carriage round a bend in the path, you felt a surge of energy before the small house even came into view. When you saw it, you knew that was where he was taking you. You were so transfixed on the house, you barely noticed Bobby slowing down and calling the horse to a halt. It wasn’t until he set the reins around the hook and climbed down, did you realize that you were completely stopped.

You carefully stepped down, and waited for Bobby to join you before taking the short walk to the old, wooden door. Enamored by the energy pulsating from the house, you were both excited and nervous to step inside. 

Looking to Bobby, and swallowing thickly, you raised your brows and sighed, “Here goes nothing.”

The door opened before Bobby could knock. A tall, dark haired woman, dressed in a simple black dress with a plunging neckline stood before you. Her eyes were clouded white, but her smile beamed from ear to ear. 

“Bobby, I always love when you drop by,” she greeted and reached out for the Maester’s hand to pull him into a hug. 

“Pamela, beautiful as always.” He hugged her briefly and stood to the side. “This is Lady Y/N. She’s--”

“The wife of Lord Samuel. Oh, I know who she is. C’mon Bobby, I may be blind, the whole psychic helps with that,” Pamela laughed, and patted his shoulder before turning to you. “Now, let me get a look at you.”

Pamela reached out for your hand, and when you gently placed yours in it, she guided you inside.

“Alright ladies, I’ll be out here guarding Old Gus if ya need me.”

“Not joining us today, Bobby?” Pamela asked, slightly disappointed. 

“Not today. Today, Y/N needs some answers and whatever revelations she receives, are for her ears only.”

“I see,” she said, and turned her attention back to you. “Well then, Lady Winchester, let’s see what the spirits have to tell you.”

Pamela closed the door slowly behind you as you stepped further into her home, you drew in a deep breath of mixed herbs, candles, and sage. It was comforting and yet rejuvenated your energy, just as the old Oak did in the Elven Woods. 

“Please, have a seat.” Pamela motioned towards an worn, but cozy looking wooden chair, lined with plush red velvet. As she took her place directly at the round table, you slipped into the chair directly across from her and placed your palms flat on the table. 

“The energy in this place is inexplicably strong,” you mused, taking in more of the room. Candles were lit all around, some on table tops, some sitting atop tall iron candle holders. Over the table hung an iron chandelier, with more candles lazily flickering in a light breeze; yet you noticed no open windows. In the center of the small, round table, stood an iridescent purple crystal set in a sterling silver bowl filled with water. Admiring your surroundings, you settled into your seat with a sense of peace.

Pamela reached her hands towards the middle, palm up. You placed yours in hers once again, and could immediately feel the vibrations coming through her. When you looked up at her, meeting her clouded white eyes, a slight smile appeared on her face. 

“You’re a very powerful witch,” she said, then wrapped her fingers a bit tighter. “Taught, yes, but also born with the gift of magic.”

“My grandmother, Rowena. She’s a well known witch also born with innate magic. I suppose it comes from her.”

“I know of Rowena MacLeod. She’s… something alright. But your magic comes from a white witch. Your mother I believe.” She grew quiet, tuning in on your frequency, then nodded in confirmation. “Yes, your mother was a white witch. She’s passed, yes?”

“Y-Yes… I never knew my mother,” you replied softly, a twisted feeling bubbling in your gut. 

“Okay, close your eyes, Y/N. Focus your mind’s eye towards the crystal in the middle of the table.”

You did as told and waited for Pamela to begin. You could hear her breathing begin to slow, and nearly feel the rush of air she exhaled through her nose. 

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita. Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita."

Pamela repeated the chant a few more times, her will stronger each time. After the final pass, you opened your eyes and felt a cool air blew through the room, flickering the candles and casting erratic shadows to dance on the walls. 

“I call upon you, spirit, show yourself. I call upon you, spirit, show yourself!”

From beyond Pamela’s shoulder, a pale blue mist began to swirl slowly, eventually taking the loose shape of a woman. It floated towards Pamela, and seemed to ensconce her with its light. 

“Yes, I can hear you,” Pamela replied to a silent question. “Your name… to whom am I speaking…” She paused, awaiting a response. It felt as if time stretched on, but only a mere few seconds truly had. “Emmeline, yes, I understand. I give you permission.”

Though she had no external sight, Pamela’s gaze met yours for a moment, before she closed them tightly. When they opened again, gone were the clouded white orbs, and replaced by bright hazel eyes. You gasped at the change, then stared into them as if you knew them somehow. 

“Y/N,” Pamela spoke, but it was no longer her raspy tone; this voice was soft and gentle., “My daughter… you’ve grown up so beautiful.”

The whole change that unfolded before you, left you breathless. You reacted without thinking and tried to pull your hands away, but the spirit inhabiting Pamela’s body wouldn’t let go.

“Y/N, please....” the voice pleaded, “stay.”

You allowed her to hold your hands, and tried to think of what to say. But for all your questions, not only about her, but about how to handle the King, went out the window. All your mind could decipher was that despite all your magical knowledge and understanding, you were sitting and communicating with the spirit of your deceased mother. 

“How,” you whispered, “how is this possible? How do I know…”

“My sweet girl, you were born during a Harvest Moon, and I loved you from the moment I saw your face. Despite how you came to be…”

Recoiling slightly, you slowly shook your head. “I--I… I don’t know what that means. I have so many questions…”

“I don’t have long. Breaking through the veil isn’t easy, so I will try to answer what I can for you, child.”

Suddenly, everything you had come there seeking in the first place went out the window. Your blank mind began to grasp at the information you needed, but all you could think was that you were sitting across from a woman you longed to know your whole life. 

“I don’t know where to begin. My father would never speak of you. Grandmother, either. They would ignore me, or change the subject. Why? Why wouldn’t they tell me about you?”

The spirit didn’t reply. Instead she let go of your hand and raised Pamela’s fingers to rest upon the center of your forehead. Instantly you were hit with a surge of energy that felt like lightning racing through your body. Gasping for air, your vision went dark, and a series of images played out in your mind’s eye. Fragments of your mother’s memories poured into your knowing as the pictures flashed before you. 

Seeing her in her natural state was breathtaking. Emmeline had been a uniquely beautiful woman; her hair the color of spun gold, deep dimples--much like Samuel’s--when she smiled. You could see some resemblances of yourself in her, and it helped to settle the feeling of uncertainty you had rising in your gut. Seeing your mother, in her own body, practicing witchcraft at her own altar… the room filling with black smoke and taking over her body… Crowley entering the chambers and having his goons smash her altar to bits. 

Another flash… Crowley and her mother, now possessed by one of his minions, in bed together laughing maniacally at the despicable things they did and were planning to do. Another… her mother’s body, very pregnant, still possessed, but now she could hear her mother’s consciousness screaming to be let free, for the demon to leave her and her child alone. 

The images were coming faster now - death and destruction following Crowley and Emmeline’s body while she was carrying you inside her. Emmeline’s body on a dungeon floor, her eyes completely black and laughing as she gave birth to you. Then finally, one last image… this one was slow and lingered behind your eyes, as you watched the black smoke clear Emmeline’s mouth. Her body crumpled to the floor, but she was still alive and breathing slowly as she looked up to see Crowley holding a tiny bundle in his arms. 

 “Well done,” Crowley cooed to the heap of a woman on the floor as he stared down as his newly born child. “I promise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.”

“You can’t...take.. her,” Emmeline managed to squeak out. She pulled herself up to her feet, wincing in great pain as she found her footing. “She’s MY DAUGHTER!”

“Sorry, love. She;s mine. But, I can promise you, I will make sure she’s put to good use,” Crowley looked at the baby in his arms and smiled wickedly. “Papa has big plans for you, doesn’t he?”

Emmeline watched in horror as he lifted one of his hands from cradling the baby. Crowley ticked his head to the side and snapped his fingers. Emmeline began to choke, as her mouth began to spill blood down her dirtied and bruised form. 

“Don’t…. Do…. this…..”

“Too late. It’s done.” He watched as Emmeline drowned in her own blood and frowned when she ceased making any noise. Her body fell back to the ground, her once beautiful, vibrant eyes now vacant and cold. “Well, that was anticlimactic, wasn’t, Y/N? That’s okay, daddy still picked a good witch to bring you into this world. Me and you, we are going to do great things together.”

As the vision faded and your eyes readjusted to the somber lighting of Pamela’s cottage, you could feel the sting of fresh tears soaking your flesh. Pamela’s body was sitting back fully in her chair, but you could still see Emmeline’s eyes looking back at you. 

“I’m sorry to have to have showed you that, but you needed to know. Your father is a monster. I tried so hard to break free from that demon’s control, but I was helpless.”

The candles began to flicker before you even felt the icy cold breeze blow through the room. Your breath became visible in the air, and it made Emmeline’s spirit panic. 

“No… I need more time!” she yelled, half in her own voice, and half in Pamela’s. Pamela’s body jerked forward, then back against the chair hard knocking the spirit free from her body. The same swirling blue mist filled the room, ricocheting from the ceiling to the floor, to the corners and back again while Pamela’s chin hung to her chest, her palms still laying flat on the table. 

As quickly as she appeared, Emmeline was gone, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness and dread. To have come so close to your mother, only to have her taken away again added a vat of fuel to the fire that burned inside you. The fire you would use to burn your father, and his Kingdom, to the ground. 

The temperature began to rise and the candles finally steadied from the whirlwind that just blew around them. Pamela was starting to come to, slowly raising her head until her white eyes met yours. 

Still shaken from the entire experience, her blank stare was starting to unnerve you. “Pamela?”

“I’m okay,” she said softly, her signature rasp still enough for you to know it was really her and not spirit. “That was… intense.” She reached across for your hand again, and though you honored her request, part of you was afraid to touch her again. “Your mother, you spoke with her? She showed you what you came here for?”

“Yes, she showed me…”

Pamela squeezed your hand and closed her eyes. “But not everything--”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the old wooden beast being slowly pushed open, allowing the day’s fading light to fill the room.

“Hate to interrupt the girl talk,” Bobby spoke up cautiously as she stepped over the threshold, “but are you ladies almost done? Day’s wasting here, and if Y/N doesn’t get back to the castle grounds before dark, I’m going to have some explaining to do to the King himself.”

You nodded in solemn agreement. You had come here for answers, though the ones you received weren’t exactly what you had been seeking. Unsure of how to process what you had learned, you turned to Pamela and smiled wanly. 

“Thank you, Pamela,” you started, and felt the rest of the words catch in your throat. “I--” expelling a deep sigh, you rose from the table and tried again. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me.”

“But you didn’t get everything you came here for,” she replied, then stood up from her own chair. Pamela walked around the table with great ease for a blind woman, finding you immediately and putting both of her hands on your shoulders. 

Pamela pulled you into a warm embrace and gave you a caring squeeze. Before she completely let go, she allowed her lips to linger near your ear for a brief moment and whispered, “The baby you’re carrying is going to be blessed with great power. It will be up to you to keep him balanced and not let the scales tip in Crowley’s favor.”

Jerking away from her, your eyes snapped up to meet hers as a small smile unfurled on her lips. She gently laid one of her long fingers against her lips. “Shhhh… that baby needs to be your secret, or danger will find him long before he’ll need to pledge his allegiance.”

“Ladies? Everything okay?” Bobby asked from where he still stood in the doorway. 

“Everything’s fine Bobby,” Pamela replied, looking over your shoulder to flash Bobby her signature smile and wink. “She’ll be right along.” When her false eyes looked back on you again, her smile faded. “Keep him safe, and this child will one day sit on the King’s throne.”

“Y/N, I hate to bust this party up, but we really have to go.”

Still in a complete state of disbelief, you turned just enough to see the Maester impatiently waiting for you and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

He threw up his arms and shrugged, before turning and heading back outside. 

“Y/N,” Pamela said, and turned your chin so you were again focused on her. “I know you have more questions, I know you were seeking truths about the potion, and a plan to use it. Whether you chose to follow through or not, it will not change the outcome of what’s meant to be.”

“And what is that? What IS meant to be?” you pleaded. “And how could I already be pregnant? Samuel and I, we just… it was one--”

“What is meant to be is already in motion. It was put that way the moment you and Samuel came together. Twin flames, though born of different fires, can still come together to create a force of nature.” She paused, and gently rested her hand on your belly. “And this boy, he will be a force of nature.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03 / @babykalika2001 / @traceyaudette /  @winchester-wifey @pilaxia​ 

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen​ / @unabashedsoul97​

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl / @sorenmarie87 

[fantastic-rambles]

The Skylark’s Song [2/4]

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Characters: Hibari Kyoya, Kusakabe Tetsuya, Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee, Fon (mentioned)

Warnings: PTSD, Mild Language, Violence [A/N: Depiction of PTSD may not be accurate. I apologize if this bothers anyone.]

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: My personal headcanons of the (pre-canon) experiences that made Hibari into the man that he is today. Part Two: the development of his commitment to discipline and explaining his apparent state of constant sleep deprivation. [This may end up being a four-part story, lol. Or a three-part with a small extra... which I guess is also four parts. I hope you enjoy! xD]

[Part 1]

Ever since that night, Hibari had never had a good night's rest.

Other than the week that he'd been in the hospital, woozy from the painkillers that had been constantly fed to him and barely aware of the world around him, he'd never slept for more than a few hours at any given time. At first, the nightmares--the memories--would wake him up in an empty house, screaming for his parents who were no longer there, and then he'd spend the rest of the night huddled in the corner, flinching at every shadow. For a long time, he feared that the men would return, but as time passed uneventfully, he grew more convinced that they didn't care. That they didn't think a mere child could be any danger to them. And they were probably right.

By all rights, he should have probably been taken away and moved to an orphanage, but a distant relative had been found who was willing to become his legal guardian. They'd spoken briefly on the phone, eventually coming to an agreement: since Hibari refused to leave his childhood home and Fon had special circumstances that made traveling and raising a child difficult, a housekeeper would be hired to watch over him, paid out of the fortune that he had inherited from his parents. Initially, she would come early in the morning every day and leave only when he was about to go to bed, but his growing preference for solitude and independence quickly asserted itself, so that she would eventually only come in the afternoon when he was at school, to clean and prepare his meals.

In school, his teachers also noticed a drastic change in his personality. Though he remained a good student, the previously outgoing and energetic child became withdrawn, appearing as though he was actively avoiding his classmates. Any attempts to speak with him outside of his assigned schoolwork were met with a stony wall of silence, and the many phone conversations that they had with his guardian did nothing to improve the situation.

In fact, the only activity in which Hibari demonstrated any initiative of his own was in his new studies of martial arts. Every evening found him at one dojo or another, practicing karate, boxing, kenjutsu, and a number of other combat arts with single-minded focus until he could barely drag himself back home. The physical pain was a welcome distraction, though it was short-lived as his body accustomed itself to the new routine.

His devotion to the arts and strict self-discipline meant that he quickly learned all that the instructors in Namimori could teach him. By the time he started middle school, he was no longer attending the dojos, instead practicing with masters that Fon would occasionally send to him while developing his own style. Hibari also began experimenting with weapons, discarding the sword and spear as impractical to carry and bare fists as too weak, before he eventually settled on his tonfa. The metal was hard enough to be difficult to deform, they were easily concealed, and simply adjusting the force could mean the difference between injury and death.

He still saw his parents every night. But at least he stopped screaming when he woke.

For the most part, his middle school years passed without anything of particular note until his third year, when he joined the disciplinary committee and a group of wannabe punks started to attend. In general, they were harmless, just mimicking the types of idiots that they saw in anime and manga and mouthing off out of the mistaken impression that it made them cool. But it irked Hibari to have to tell them off every morning for their appearances and watch them swagger around like thugs. When they finally started trying to extort their peers, however, he finally had a real excuse to step in.

"Hey, c'mon, you've got cash, right? We just need to borrow a couple thousand. We'll pay you back later, really!"

Hibari had been about to return home when he heard voices coming from behind the gym. If there was a response to Kusakabe, it was too quiet for him to hear, but he hoisted his bookbag higher over his shoulders as he went to investigate. As he turned the corner, the sight before him turned him cold with rage.

Kusakabe and his friends stood in a loose half-circle, a few of them holding wooden swords, leering at the student they had trapped against the wall, a young boy who looked absolutely terrified. His bookbag appeared to have been upended all over the ground, with books and pens scattered everywhere, and Kusakabe knelt before him, his hand outstretched expectantly. One of his friends stretched, cricking his neck threateningly, and noticed the prefect standing there, shaking. He smirked, reaching out to nudge their leader and jerking a thumb toward Hibari when Kusakabe looked up.

"Get rid of him," Kusakabe ordered, and three of his pack peeled away, advancing on Hibari and blocking his view.

"There's nothing to see here, Prefect-san. Get lost, unless you want what he's getting," one of them snapped, and Hibari's eyes fell to the ground as his hands clenched into trembling fists.

"Hey, look at him. You think he's gonna piss himself?" Another one laughed, jabbing his bokken toward Hibari, who took a step back, to more laughter. But in the next instant, Hibari was lunging forward, the gleam of metal in his hands knocking the wood aside and slamming the boy under the chin. Before the other two realized what was happening, they were splayed on the ground, clutching their heads as Hibari stood in front of them, breathing heavily. He staggered slightly, as if he were injured or drunk, as the rest of the gang advanced on him, Kusakabe in the lead, their victim forgotten. They were cautious now, now that they saw he could fight back, and when Hibari's head snapped up, even Kusakube seemed to hesitate. There was a gleam of madness and bloodlust in Hibari's normally flat black eyes, and his stance as he lifted his tonfa in front of his body telegraphed experience.

Even so, they couldn't back down, not from a fight that they had picked, so they approached the older boy carefully, trying to spread out to encircle him. He didn't make any move to stop them from doing so, just standing with an air of watchful patience, like a predator waiting to pounce. The fact that he was outnumbered didn't seem to bother him at all, and he kept his eyes fixed on Kusakabe. His unwavering gaze seemed to make the younger boy hesitate, but at the same time, foolish pride urged the delinquent forward.

"Get him."

After a heartbeat of uncertainty, they rushed in wildly, fists swinging and getting in each other's way more often than not. And in the midst of all of them, Hibari's weapons flashed like quicksilver, falling with precise blows upon heads and joints until he was the only one who remained standing among the carnage, like some ancient god of war. The few boys who weren't unconscious were groaning, clutching where they had been struck, and their victim had run away, leaving behind only a few pencils and a snapped ruler.

Languidly, Hibari walked over to the leader, nudging Kusakabe under the chin with his foot to make sure he had the boy's attention.

"Try this again, and I'll break your bones. A third time, and I'll bite you to death. Do you understand?"

It wasn't a threat, but a simple statement of fact, delivered in a flat tone that left no room for discussion. He waited for Kusakabe to nod, then turned around and walked away, stepping over the bodies that littered the ground.

From his experiences with hot-blooded people, Hibari didn't expect things to just end there, but nothing could have surprised him more when he arrived at school the next day. The moment he stepped inside the gates, he was greeted by a shout of "Good morning, boss!" and he turned to see Kusakabe and his hoodlums bowing to him.

"What's this?"

Hibari watched warily as Kusakabe approached him, smiling while sporting a black eye.

"Hibari-san, you're strong, and you've earned our respect. Please feel free to use us however you want," Kusakabe addressed him formally, bowing again. Some of the other students were staring at them, wide-eyed, and Hibari shoved the punk away with one hand.

"I'm not strong. You're just weak," he snapped. "That's why you just crowd together with the others. It makes me sick."

But his words didn't seem to upset the other boy, who deferentially took a step back to give Hibari the personal space that he clearly wanted. However, for the rest of the day, they hung in small groups at the corners of Hibari's vision whenever he wasn't in his classroom, following him around like a pack of devoted dogs. It was irritating, and when they began to follow him home after school, he snapped again, beating them all thoroughly, even though they didn't even try to fight back.

Gradually, though, Hibari noticed that their one-sided admiration seemed to be imposing better order on his beloved school. Small incidents were quickly straightened out without his interference, and for the most part, the gang stayed out of his way. So he tolerated their existences so long as they avoided grouping up in front of him, using them as yet another tool to protect the discipline at Namimori Middle School and in town as a whole. He never dealt with any of them directly except for Kusakabe, on the rare occasions that he had to give them orders; even so, he kept a close eye on them to ensure that they didn't overstep their bounds. 

His parents had loved the town, and so did he. Even though they had been betrayed, it was only because the authorities had all been weak: afraid of violence, dazzled by money, grasping for power, or any number of other reasons. Although Hibari intended to control them himself through the same methods, he had no intention of unleashing another pack of animals that would cause even more problems for others.

And on the day that he finally finished his compulsory education, he set out to settle the score.

[Part 3]