#if she keeps stepping boundaries onto adult spaces

[saetoru]

no bc she was being such a dickhead about this whole situation. before the vid was deleted in the comments she was clowning on adults for reading fanfic and saying they should “get a job and pay taxes” but it’s like without adults writing great fics she would only have shitty wattpad fics written by some 14 yo in their intro to algebra class to read🧐

i hope karma gets her back real good bc she fr was being such an asshole about it l m a o

[frostedfaves]

Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed. 

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

-

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

-

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

a wall of pillows

more vibesss

rated: g | words: 1842 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, fluff, waking together, cuddling

read on ao3

It made sense that Riza should move out of her bedroom.

Her back injuries, while mostly healed, were still not well enough for her to sleep in a bedroom where water was leaking in through a hole in a dilapidated roof, bringing some damp and a bitingly cold breeze along with it.

It was getting worse, Riza thought with a sigh, as she squinted up at the offending splinter in the structure. The air within the room was making her shiver now. Once night fell, and the early spring sun disappeared behind the trees, it would be even worse.

Her squint turned into a frown, then a scowl.

Roy’s hovering in the doorway as she assessed the damage wasn’t making it any better either.

The only other option was to move into his room. Because she could not face sleeping in her late father’s bed.

A night on the couch was absolutely out, according to her temporary caretaker. Not that Riza minded or would argue with Roy there anyway. The ratty, old piece of furniture wasn’t even comfortable for sitting on, never mind sleeping. It would only aggravate her back further. Roy had offered to sleep there, however Riza had never been anything other than a perfect host, something her father had instilled within her. She couldn’t ask him to sleep on that couch while she commandeered his bed.

“What if we were to share a bed?”

Her sharp glance at such a suggestion didn’t appear to faze him.

No, she didn’t particularly want to share a bed with him. But she didn’t want to freeze overnight. The latter would only hinder her recovery process.

Riza couldn’t have Roy facing the same fate either.

Roy retrieved the pillows from Riza’s bed before she’d even made a decision, and tossed them onto the top of his bed without a care. It was comical how much higher Riza’s pillow side was compared to his, but it wouldn’t be the case for long.

She arranged them carefully into a wall between her and Roy.

It was nothing personal, Riza explained to him, but it made her feel more… comfortable.

It was silly, she thought. She’d bared herself to him completely. He’d seen the tattoo on her back and had listened to her tale of how it came to be. He’d burned the most important parts off her skin. He’d seen her break down with the pain and howl up to the ceiling in agony. It felt like Roy Mustang knew her inside out, better than anyone else ever had, and yet, sharing a sleeping space still made her pause. It made anxiety flare within her chest, making her heart stutter in silent panic and her stomach clench.

Roy’s care as he nursed her back to health had been astronomically great. He’d been attentive and protective. He’d been at her beck and call, seeing to her every wish, not that there were many. When Riza had been unable to lift her head from the pillow in the early days, he’d assisted with her eating and drinking. He’d even read to her.

The sound of his voice had lulled her to sleep more often than she’d care to admit.

And Riza had witnessed his guilt towards it all. It swam beneath his kind, dark eyes and never relented. It was always present and never went away. Riza didn’t think it would for while even though she’d absolved him of his actions against her skin. He’d helped free her, Riza always told him. It was what she’d wanted. She reinforced those facts, but it still didn’t shift.

But it didn’t mean she’d stop trying.

Sharing a bed though… Despite the closeness which had developed even further after Roy had granted Riza’s request, it was an action which felt so… intimate. It felt like it was taking a step further into unknown territory. They were both young adults now and the innocence that had been present when they’d shared a bed previously as children was long gone.

Everything had changed between them over the last few years.

The conversation stating her wish to keep some semblance of a boundary between them was awkward, but Roy didn’t seem to mind. He shot her an easy-going smile and assured her it was fine. He remained open and understanding of her desire to keep distance between them and agreed with her.

“Whatever makes you most comfortable, Riza.”

However, during sleep, they were still drawn together.

Riza woke in the morning to find herself lying on top of Roy.

More specifically, her head was resting on his left side, above his heart – which beat steadily underneath her ear – and she was curled against his side. Her free arm was draped across his torso and gripped onto him by his ribs, her fingers curled into his side as she tried to hold on and secure herself against him.

Unconsciously she cuddled further into the heat source and pressed her face against his chest. She sighed quietly, basking the smell that was so familiar and safe to her, that it soothed her into further relaxation. In her half-asleep state Riza didn’t think twice about why Roy was so close or why she could inhale the smell that was wholly him so easily. It felt natural and right –

Her eyes snapped open, and adrenaline shot through her veins.

She really was lying on top of Roy.

Their wall of pillows, so carefully and precisely crafted to induce ease and comfort in a strange and almost embarrassing situation, was long demolished. The pillows were strewn haphazardly across the bed, laying kicked off to the side behind both Riza and Roy – both guilty in their meeting together through the night.

Roy’s arms had even wrapped tightly around Riza in sleep. One arm had looped around her waist while the other lightly gripped her upper arm, keeping her in place against him.

Riza jerked backwards but was quickly halted. She let out a quiet hiss of pain as the sharp movement pulled against the still tender skin of her burned back.

Roy on the other hand, still asleep, grumbled and tried to resecure his hold. The hand which had rested on her upper arm was lost with her quick movement. It now lay across his stomach. The fingers were flexing and searching, but they didn’t find what they sought – Riza. The arm around her waist tried to make up for it. Riza was pulled tighter against his side, causing Riza to let out a quiet, surprised squeak at the sudden, demanding movement. Her hand came to rest instinctively against his chest in an effort to steady herself as Roy fought against her gentle resistance in his sleep.

His brow had now started to furrow.

“Roy,” Riza whispered, still trying to put some distance between them.

He grunted and huffed.

“Roy,” she tried again, but didn’t pull away any further. She was simply trying to ruse and wake him, because Riza knew fighting against Roy would gain her nothing. Apparently, she wasn’t going anywhere within his hold.

“Sleep, Riza,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

Roy let out a deep sigh – almost sounding content.

“Roy, open your eyes.”

“No.”

He even pouted.

“Sleep,” he breathed. Roy’s chest lifted and fell evenly, and his eyes still remained closed. “It’s too early,” he muttered semi-coherently. Riza only barely managed to string those sounds into a rough sentence to guess their meaning.

How close he was to waking, Riza didn’t know, nor could she determine. Roy made himself more comfortable and secured his hand on Riza’s waist. His fingertips dug into the skin of her hip, not painfully, but enough to know she was there. He was intent that Riza wasn’t going anywhere, apparently.

It took some deliberation – and a few minutes – but finally, Riza lay back down beside him. She hadn’t entirely given up, but her resolve was wavering second by second. If she was to be a prisoner within Roy Mustang’s arms, she may as well try and relax and enjoy it.

(Not that it would be difficult, however Riza would never admit that. Not right now anyway, with things being so new, and slightly thrilling).

Roy’s palm which was splayed across her hip was… a nice weight. It was comforting. Warm and soft. Gentle and soothing, despite her initial awkwardness and aversion to them being so close. The more Riza thought about it, the more she craved it and wanted to enjoy this whole scenario. Her aversion to the situation wavered and she felt herself giving in to the sanctuary he so freely granted her.

She eventually found herself genuinely enjoying it.

Her head pressed further into the pillow as her cheeks heat up, but Riza no longer fought against it. She had no desire to. In an effort to distract herself from the light embarrassment and what their current situation implied, and could possibly end up entailing, Riza kept it simple and focussed on him. Roy’s chest rose and fell steadily with sleep. He didn’t snore, but his breathing was deep and even, his hold secure. Just like before, she wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t getting the chance to escape him so easily.

The thought brought a small smile to Riza’s face.

It felt nice to be wanted by someone. To have someone wish to hold her close and comfort her. Roy had gone above and beyond with his care as he watched over her after burning the skin of the tattoo on her back, but Riza knew deep down it was due to his guilt. Possibly guilt for leaving her with her father, resulting in the tattoo, but definitely guilt towards causing her so much pain by burning her skin.

However, in sleep, where those thoughts escaped the mind, he still wanted her close. He still craved her to remain by his side. Riza could reason it was simply because she was nearby and she was warm, that it was an instinct, but he’d told her to go back to sleep. Had spoken her name. Half asleep he’d known it was Riza beside him.

Her smile grew wider as she continued to watch him sleep.

He wanted her nearby, despite it all. He wanted to hold her and comfort her. He wanted her to sleep by his side.

Riza sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but snuggle tentatively against him, which sleeping Roy encouraged. When the distance between them closed, his arm wrapped around her tighter. He let out a deep, happy sigh and relaxed beneath Riza. She did the same, falling asleep with a smile on her face.

After all, what was the harm? His arm was avoiding her bandaged skin. It wasn’t causing her any discomfort or pain. It was welcome.

Why shouldn’t she give into him?

With his heart beating steadily beneath her ear once more, Riza was lulled into sleep.

The betrayal from her pillow wall was worth it in the end, Riza decided quietly right before she drifted off, at peace.

feel free to leave a comment and kudos on ao3 :)

likes and reblogs are always much appreciated <3

[astronartists-writes]

Helloooo:)

May i request a Twice reaction to their Fem! s.o being protective of them?(like in a healthy way, not possessive)

Have a good day:3

a/n: i was so excited when you sent me this because it was super early that i got this from when i posted everything else.

hope this turned out okay!

Masterlist

TWICE with a protective s/o

TW: mentions of sasaengs, mentioned worries about toxicity

CW: none! :)

fem!reader, race unspecified :)

Park Jihyo

when you first showed her your protectiveness, she was a little worried that you might end up being overbearing

but as time went by, and you were super chill about her living her own life, she realized that you weren’t someone she should be concerned about.

you were perceptive to her feelings, so the second she seemed uncomfortable, you would shoot a nasty glare at whatever was making her feel so

usually it was sasaengs

sometimes it was her stage outfits

the glare was always the first warning

if the glare didn’t work on people, you’d wrap an arm around her as a second warning.

if those warnings didn’t work, you’d start responding in place of Jihyo, your tone flat and dismissive

she thought it was hilarious

it eased any anxiety she might feel

because The Glare can’t really work on an outfit,

you would usually offer her your jacket, or would carry a small blanket around to cover her legs with while she sits

you always made sure to ask if she wanted your jacket or the blanket, giving her a choice of rejection

she’s an independent adult, and you treated her as such

you’ve got her back, and she feels safe when you’re around.

Im Nayeon

i feel like nayeon would be protective of her s/o as well,

so you being protective wouldn’t faze her.

it’s just natural

you always asked her if she was feeling uncomfortable with something, and did everything you could to help her fix it if she was

you could honestly be her personal security guard, you were that effective.

you once practically threw a bitch that was getting a little too close, and she was scared at the time, but laughed a lot when the video surfaced

all of twice’s stage outfits are kind of ridiculous sometimes, and you often complained about the discomfort of not only nayeon, but the other members as well

you knew how uncomfortable clothing that showed a lot of skin could be — especially short skirts,

so you empathized, even going to managers to ask if it was really necessary for the members to wear certain things

she felt very loved when you showed her your protectiveness, and always made sure to make you feel loved, too

Yoo Jeongyeon

personally feeling very protective of jeongyeon right now, hope she’s feeling lots better

so you make sure to give her plenty of space, asking questions once, and not pressuring her for an answer if she couldn’t give you one.

you treated her the way you treated everyone else,

only really being protective of the way people spoke to and/or about her

if you felt something was uncalled for, you immediately told the person who said it off,

sometimes you ordered them to apologize,

sometimes you told them calmly that what they said wasn’t very nice, and gave them a disapproving stare

tbh, not many instances happened where you had to tell them off,

so you tried to express your care for her in other ways

like making her food, getting her tea, sharing your clothes

jeongyeon would tell you clearly if you were to cross a boundary, and you would immediately make sure to never cross it again in order to avoid being possessive

she felt comfortable with you

you never once made her feel bad for not liking something, or not wanting something to be done,

so she was able to openly communicate with you with little to no fears

Hirai Momo

momo liked the two of you doing your own thing for the most part

being independent together was nice

she liked being able to depend on each other for things as well, though

like emotional support, and someone to always have her back

one of her favorite things was seeing you get protective

it usually happened at the smaller things, not the bigger things because you couldn’t be around for many of the big things

like if a bee or a wasp got too close to her, you were right there to move her out of the way

if you saw her shoelace untied, you’d get down and tie it for her so she wouldn’t trip

if you saw someone look at her in a way you didn’t like, you would put an arm around her out of the need to make sure they didn’t try anything harmful

she wasn’t helpless, but it felt nice to show her she could rely on you if she needed to.

Minatozaki Sana

because of her cuteness, you often felt very protective of her

however, we all know that sana is not innocent

she’s an adult, y’know

anyway

at first, she was a little irritated at how protective you could be

you were far more obvious about it than subtle

after a while, she got used to it, and thought about how you didn’t question her choices

you didn’t even try to control her

she liked it a lot

you liked to latch onto her arm in public when there were a lot of people, and she enjoyed holding your waist, poking you in the side every once in a while to get a cute little giggle out of you

the display of protection she liked the most was you tugging down a skirt if you thought it was riding up too much

she liked that you didn’t want anyone to even see the safety shorts, especially when you explained that you just didn’t want her to feel embarrassed if someone posted pictures online

usually when you did something protective, you tried to make it playful.

every once in a while, you’d poke her butt when you pulled her dress down

Myoui Mina

you weren’t protective of her too often because she’s not a very social person,

but you took every opportunity you could

mostly on days she was on stage or doing other activities and you were with her

she stayed home the rest of the time, and while she used to be mostly alone, having you around was something much appreciated

because you were mostly in the safety of your own home, you usually were protective about comments on the internet

she would look through them for things she could improve on — some people left some pretty good constructive criticism

but there would always be hate comments

it’s something to expect from being in the industry

not everyone is going to like you, and the people who don’t can be very cruel

she had learned to mostly not take comments about her personally,

but if you happened to glance at what she was doing out of curiosity and found a comment you didn’t like,

you’d get a little peeved

you’d tell her that she should mute those comments so she wouldn’t see them anymore

this resulted in a very brief argument, where you quickly apologized for the misunderstanding

and explained that you just didn’t want her to feel bad

she thought about it a little and nodded, thanking you for the concern, but explaining that the comments didn’t really get to her

so you’d shyly request to read them with her, dragging the people that left mean comments through the dirt

it made her laugh

if someone dared to say something about her in front of you, though... all hell would break loose.

your protectiveness in public only occurred when the members were being mobbed

you’d hold her hand to make sure she didn’t get pulled away, shooting glares every which way.

your protectiveness made her laugh in private, and made her feel safe in public

Kim Dahyun

you only really protected dahyun when she was frightened or startled at first

which was quite frequent

but after a while, you found yourself saying you’d go before her in things she was nervous about

and then even in things she wasn’t nervous about

the urge to keep her safe was just really strong at that point

she was never actually bugged about it

she liked having a doting girlfriend to hide behind

she even stepped in a few times when you looked nervous, too, eager to keep you feeling safe

she would not be able to do much for you while at high places, though

so even if you were also scared, you’d just clutch her hand and shakily walk with her across area that seemed sketchy.

she gave you a kiss every time you stopped,

and that motivated you enough to keep going

after the hell of high places, she wouldn’t let go of you, trying to show you just how grateful she was by praising you and comforting you

you didn’t feel so scared at the end of it, though

she was grateful for your protectiveness, and was just as protective of you

Son Chaeyoung

she is tiny, so it would be easier to lose her in a crowd than others

she’s responsible enough to not get lost, but you liked to hold her hand just in case

our chaengie is playful,

and so sometimes she’s a little bit too focused on messing around with you to notice potential danger

like a car coming down the narrow road

so you’d tug her out of the way, continuing your conversation without another thought

she usually payed a lot of attention to her surroundings, so the fact that she didn’t realize there was a car was surprising.

you didn’t mention it because you were just keeping her safe, but she was very flustered

if the weather suddenly got colder than expected, you always had a hoodie and a jacket on you

as soon as you saw her shivering,

you’d shed your jacket and hoodie, handing the hoodie to her wordlessly before putting your jacket back on.

you didn’t want her to get sick

she never gave that hoodie back, but she always brought it with her after that.

when people had you on edge, you wouldn’t leave her side

if they were decidedly too much, you’d hold her hand,

and if you really didn’t like a person, you’d straight up just tug her away from them with you (if they followed, you’d totally bark at them)

Chaeyoung found your protectiveness romantic, and wouldn’t trade it for anything

Chou Tzuyu

Tzuyu can hold her own pretty well

she can be quiet, and intimidating, so you weren’t actually protective in a way that people other than her could see

you stayed next to her when you were together, keeping it normal looking if she seemed endangered by anyone

if she needed to get out of a situation, she’d tap your wrist two times and you would get her out of there by any means.

she wasn’t allowed to be mean because of her job, but you could be as mean as you felt needed

another way you were protective was reporting harmful comments and/or posts to JYP directly

always under an anonymous alias

sometimes the two of you would end up looking through rumors and laughing at the ridiculous ones

like a secret boyfriend

that one you screenshot and sent to Tzuyu, who sent it to the group chat for the TWICE members so you could all scoff at it

when you asked if she felt overwhelmed by anything you did, she denied it

she felt comfortable when she was around you. she found your protectiveness sweet.

[hollyharper]

Damian x OC(s) with ABO dynamics

This is my first attempt at an Omega verse, so give me some grace. Also... My oc Holly isn't a self insert. I named my blog after her.

Damian glanced around the ballroom. It was ironic, how at his own birthday celebration, he was the one drinking champagne alone. Father had made an exception, claiming that, at least for Damian, eighteen was practically an adult. Damian looked around the room again. Where was she? Not beside Selina. Not lingering on the balcony. Where-

Gone.

A breath caught in his throat. Holly wasn’t there. And she wouldn’t be. His shoulders shook. Damian bit his lip and sank onto the closest bench. How much longer would he have to suffer like this? How long until every memory of Holly faded, and all that was left was a painless blurr? Damian had always forced loss into a tiny, blocked off section of his mind. But no matter how hard he fought, Her memories always slipped past those boundaries, and filled his consensus. When she was alive, she was good at just that. The fragile blonde had barely said a word, before she tore his walls down. With grace that rivaled angels, she had stepped into his life, and taken over every thought. Even now, she captivated him. Selina’s eyes landed on his slumped form. The omega exhaled, and crossed to his side. Damian made no recognition of her presence, as his father’s betrothed sat down.

“Holly would want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t.” He growled.

“She-”

“Enough.” He bolted up and stomped towards the door.

The room fell silent. Bruce set down his drink.

“Damian.”

The young alpha whipped to face his father. His green eyes were squinted in a mix of pain and anger.

“I know it hurts, but this is not the time to deal with it.” Bruce whispered, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Damian took a shuddering breath and drew together his composure. Selina, along with the rest of the family, hung back. Damian took another calming breath, then crossed to his awaiting siblings. Stephine stayed by Tim’s side. Her mark just barely peeked out from under her dress strap. Even while grieving, Damian found it humorous how the pair still believed they had fooled his father. Grayson- Dick stepped forward. Damian welcomed the older alpha’s embrace and comforting scent. Barbara laid a soft hand on his shoulder. Since she had become Dick’s mate, Damian had been more accepting of her touch. He slipped from Dick’s arms and into hers. She smelled of camalle with a hint of vanilla. Holly had always smelled of vanilla, the sweetest, most natural trail of scent. The red headed omega cradled him close. Damian allowed himself to stay a few heartbeats longer. Another scent filled the space, strong, commanding and cinnamon. Damian whipped his head towards the door.

“Mother?”

Talia gave a gentle smile to her son. He couldn’t keep the excitement from his gate, as he walked to her. She gave him a welcome but unfamiliar hug.

“Happy Birthday, my Beloved Son.”

Again, Damian was overwhelmed with smells. His mother’s mixed with smoke, sweat, iron and that of another omega. He recognized it immediately.

“Where is she?”

“Later, Abni.<My son>”

“Where is she?” Came an alpha-like growl.

Talia chuckled. She snapped her fingers and turned to face the door. Head lifted high, an omega close to Damian’s age, pushed open the ballroom door. Her dark hair fell easily over her shoulders. Her widow's peak was highlighted by silvery locks of hair. Two strands were braided and pinned at the back of her head. Her golden eyes held confidence similar to Talia’s. Her deep purple dress spilt high up her hip, mimicking Talia’s wine red dress.

“Vailiki.” He whispered.

Damian rushed to embrace her. Bruce’s jaw dropped. Vailiki wrapped both arms around Damian’s abdomen, and pressed her head to his chest. What little conversation had restarted in the room, died. Val lifted her head to press her forehead to the alpha’s.

“I missed you.” He muttered.

“Of course you did.” She replied, with a sassy smirk.

“Of course.” He echoed, nuzzling against her neck.

She smiled, and pressed her entire frame against him.

“You’ve come of age.” Talia praised. “She’s yours, as promised.”

Damian looked down at the omega. In eight years, she had grown from a feisty little girl, to a creature of grace and danger. Her small frame was nothing but muscle. He held her closer. At age six, he had been told Vailiki would one day become his mate. When Holly came along, Val had slipped his mind. Golden eyes locked on him, and drew him. His omega. He had once dared to think of Holly as his, but that was nothing but wishful thinking. Vaikili tangled her hands into his hair and pulled his head down into a kiss which would quickly lead to more.

Soft skin brushed across Damian’s cheek. He whined and rolled away.

“Good morning.” Vailiki purred.

He cried his eyes open. They landed on the fresh mark on her neck. A little bit of a smile splashed across his face. Her core rumbled and she curled closer to his side.

“I’ve been waiting for that.” She whispered.

He only nodded.

“Damian?”

He sighed. “I’m glad you're here.”

“Not exactly what I was expecting.” She whispered, her fingers dancing across his jaw.

“I-”

“There was another?” She asked.

He only managed a nod. “She died. Two months ago. Because of my stupidity.”

“Dami.” She snaked both arms around him.

He shifted to press close to her. Vailiki pressed a kiss to his head.

"Whatever happened, I know it wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter who's fault it is." He muttered, burning his face against her.

"Your right."

[forever-rogue]

Would you be up for writing a SMUT fiction with the one & only, Marcus Moreno? Where Y/N is like 5 years younger then Marcus, but they fall in love anyway. Y/N meets his daughter and they have dinner together, but then she has a sleepover at a friends house and then Marcus and Y/N fuck? 😂 Idk, something like that.

I love Marcus so much, okay? I am weak for this man! Enjoy - this does have spice, the sweetest of spice - 18+ only!

Marcus Moreno x fem!reader; warnings: smut

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Marcus was a man of many things - conviction, steadfast in his ways, kind, selfless, funny, handsome - the list went on and on. But among the many things, he was also incredulous at the fact that someone like you could be smitten with him.

But here you were - his lover, his friend, his partner. So many brilliant things all wrapped into one. He'd been hesitant to approach you, considering himself to be too dorky, too lame, and too old. He was only a few years older, nothing much, but it had never seemed to bother you. As soon as he'd met you and felt that familiar warmth wash over him, he'd felt like an old fool.

 More times than you could count had you caught him staring at you with that silly, goofy smile on his face. But he was never going to make a move, no, nope, definitely not. That would have been a sin, practically blasphemous and he would never entertain the notion and he was nervous just thinking about it and -

You had casually strolled him up after a mission, giving him a smile before sitting down next to him and cutting to the chase.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Marcus nearly spit out his coffee as you sat there and watched him a soft smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. Once he calmed down and quit coughing, he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get his bearings.

"Do I...what?" he pushed up his glasses - surely he couldn't have heard you correctly.

"Do you, Marcus Moreno," you pointed at him with a bemused expression, "want to go out with me? And I'll make this super clear, do you want to go out with me on a date, with romantic intentions? I'd like to take you to dinner sometime."

"Me?" he bumbled as a tinge of pink flushed into his cheeks.

"Of course you," you laughed lightly at him and he visibly relaxed at the warm sound, "unless there's another Marcus Moreno around I should know about?"

"I...no..no. Only me."

"I hope not," you insisted as you reached over and straightened his glasses, "because I'm quite fond of this one. You don't have to of course...please tell me if I'm overstepping boundaries since you are technically the boss. And perhaps I flatter myself with thinking you might feel the same."

"I'd love to," he nodded as he relaxed and grinned back around you, "I...ugh...yeah. I'll really like that."

"Great," you beamed at him, making him melt all over again, "its a date."

»»————-　♡　————-««

That had been a few months ago, and some days he still couldn't believe his luck. Then again, neither could you - how you had gotten on lucky as to call Marcus your own you would never know. 

Marcus had been nervous about stepping back into the dating field, well you, you were the first and only, but you'd made it so easy. There was never any awkwardness or worry or fear...it all just fell into sweet, blissful place. 

The thing he has been most nervous about though was Missy. Her approval meant everything, she was his world after all. But he also wanted you to like her because you were also becoming an increasingly big part of his world.

But his worries had been for naught because you fell in love with the young girl when you'd met her and vice versa. Now the two of you were thick as thieves, often ganging up on him. Not that he minded of course; his heart hadn't felt so full and happy in a long time and that was everything to him.

"Honey?" you put your hand on his shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze. Marcus had been halfway through stirring a pot of pasta, homemade that afternoon by yourself and Missy, but had completely zoned out. As soon as he felt your gentle touch he seemed to snap back into reality, a small smile crossing his features. You gently tapped the side of his before he leaned in and kissed you, "What's going on up there, Moreno?"

"Nothing," he turned back to the pot and gave it a final stir before putting the lid back on. He reached for you,  his hands easily finding purchase on your hips as he tugged your towards him. You made a small sound of surprise before snaking your arms around his neck and carding a hand through his dark locks, "just thinking about how much I love you."

Love. That's what this was. He knew that now, hell, he'd known for some time, but he'd been nervous to admit to it. He never thought he'd be saying those words again, at least not to anyone besides Missy or his mother.

And it had terrified him. It had scared him to death - the idea of loving another again. At first he didn't know how to respond, how to react or what to do. It was overwhelming and all consuming, and yet...it made him happy. So happy. And it was apparent to everyone around him - how filled with life he was again, how the light never faded from his eyes, how his smile was bigger than ever. That's when he knew exactly what it was.

Of course, Marcus being Marcus, was so concerned with when and how to tell that he blurted it out during the middle of sex. It was right when you were both on the precipice of your climaxes, and he couldn't help himself as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

It had been slightly unexpected, sure, but you just kissed him and repeated the words back to him sweetly - reverently. You knew too that this wasn't like anything you'd experienced before...this was everything.

"I love you too, Marcus," you whispered as you trailed a few fingers along jaw, touching the patchy stubble that you loved so much, "I-"

"The kitchen is a communal place," Missy groaned at the two of you as he came down the stairs, her backpack and sleepover gear in tow, "I'd appreciate if we kept it that way."

"Very funny," Marcus pulled back from you with a wink as you went over and helped Missy with her stuff, "I'm the adult I make the rules!"

"Whatever Dad," she sassed him as you just laughed, "see you tomorrow. Love you!"

"Love you too kiddo," Marcus offered her a wave as you carried her bag to the door for her.

"Have fun with your friends," you leaned down and gave her a tight hug. She responded in kind before taking her things in hand, "don't get into too much trouble, yeah? And if you need anything, we'll be right here."

"We won't," she insisted with a sly little grin that you couldn't quite believe, "have fun too! See you tomorrow. I love you!"

And just as quick as a flash she was bolting out the door and down the street to her friend's house. It took you a moment to recover as you realized what she had said. You walked back to the kitchen with a grin on your face and your heart feeling like it was going to overflow at any moment.

"What?" Marcus asked as you walked in a daze.

"Missy," your voice was soft as you leaned against the counter, "she said she loved me...its the first time she's said it."

"And why wouldn't she?" he too felt an overwhelming rush of emotion as he realized just how much this meant to him, "you're pretty amazing after all."

"I love her too, so much...I just...I want her to know I love you and her and I want to be a part of your lives  but I would ever try to replace her mom," you explained as he nodded in understanding. Marcus moved to stand in front of you, his hands finding either side of your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "how did I get so lucky to find the two of you? I love you both more than you will ever know."

"And so we do," he promised as he leaned in and properly kissed you, "I love you."

Without thinking, you hopped onto the counter and wrapped your legs around his waist before wrapping your arms around his neck. His large, warm hands slowly worked their way from your waist to up and under your shirt, as he skimmed your soft skin.

Your soft kisses quickly turned into hungry, needy ones as you pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside. Marcus went from your lips to your jaw before working his way down your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin.

"Marcus," you almost moaned his name as you pressed yourself against the hardness you could already feel in his jeans, "this is a communal space. Keep it clean."

"Don't want to," he huffed with laughter as his hand moved to the button of your jeans and he quickly undid the fly. He lifted you up briefly as he pulled down your jeans and underwear as you reached for his jeans to repeat the process. 

Your mouths almost never parted, except for the soft giggles that flowed as you felt more like naughty schoolchildren that could be caught at any second, rather than grown adults.

"Marcus - the food," you suddenly remembered. He shook his head as you paused for a moment.

"Its all off," he promised while cupping your breasts in his hands, earning a delighted moan from you, "it can all wait. Dessert first."

"Then take me," you tugged down just jeans and boxers, pushing them down as he wasted no time in lining himself up at your entrance and slowly pushing in. When he bottomed out, you both groaned in between kisses as he gave you a moment to adjust. 

Then there was no rush, and he started to move languidly, setting a gentle pace as he kept on kissing you. It was sweet, sex with Marcus was always something you thoroughly enjoyed, especially times like this. It was so intimate, so loving, it was everything and all consuming at once.

"'m not gonna last," he whispered as he left a trail of fiery kisses along your jaw. You nodded in agreement as you held him close, trying to memorize every touch, every feel.

"'s okay, honey," you promised as you guided him back to your lips, "come with me, please. I love you Marcus, I love you so much."

That was all it took to get him to reach his peak as your walls hugged him and you both came with small moans. Marcus held you tightly as you tried to catch your breath and he stayed buried inside you, peppering you in the most saccharine of kisses, "I love you too. More than you will ever know."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[lokidoki-imagines]

Red String of Fate Part 1

So I wrote out a whole piece and then my iPad decided to just delete it 🥲 But yeah, I’m a Zemo simp now apparently 🤷🏼‍♀️ 

Warnings: None really for this chapter, but I suppose it’s the start of a love triangle so if those bother you, then this ain’t the one for you 😂

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Zemo x Reader, Sam x platonic!reader

Word count: 1514

Having worked with Bucky and Sam before the blip, you knew the two of them together meant trouble. There was never a plan, only arguments and bickering over who had the right to make the plan, which usually ended with you making the plan instead. What wasn’t in your plan, was meeting your friends at a small Berlin airfield after their trip to see Zemo.

After having found the space outside of hanger 9, you pulled your phone out and called Bucky. “Okay, I’m here. So what’s my surprise?” Hoping it was going to be something nice, like some of those famous plums he always insists are better than anywhere else in the world, you let your imagination run as you heard him chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Don’t freak out doll, but look to your left.”

Pulling your phone away from your ear as the line went dead you could feel the goosebumps creep along your skin. Swaggering as if he owned the place, and you’d be surprised if he didn’t, was the one and only Baron Zemo; flagging him either side was Sam and Bucky. Shaking off the shock you shoved your phone back into your jacket pocket and stormed over to the three approaching men, noticing an elderly man stepping off a private jet spurred you into walking even quicker. 

“What the hell are you two thinking?” Stopping a few feet away from them you ignored the man in the middle. “You said there was a surprise,” you let your eyes flicker over to Zemo’s brown ones before forcing them back to Bucky “Usually when someone says they’ve gotten you a surprise it’s something pleasant.”

“It’s his fault.” Sam spoke quickly, shoving a finger in Bucky’s direction. 

“Hey, don’t pin this on me. He broke himself out, I only-”

“Oh so you’re completely innocent in this? Pretty sure you-”

Your eyes drifted from your bickering friends to the silent man between them. He was unusually quiet, any smart ass quip he had planned had turned to lead on his tongue the minute you came into the picture. He had wrinkles, only slight, at the corner of his eyes that weren’t there the last time you’d seen him. Days worth of stubble marked his cheeks, but even with all the years and heartache that he’d endured since you’d last seen each other, he was still exactly the same as you remembered. You could only wonder what he was thinking, seeing you here with his enemies after all this time.

“Are we interrupting something?” Sam spoke carefully, pulling your attention away from the criminal in front of you. Bucky and Sam were watching you both with cautious looks, as words begin to fail you. You’d never told your friends about your past further than you’d moved to the states as an adult. They knew you lived in Sokovia for a number of years on and off, but they didn’t know all of it. You didn’t know them during the Civil War, you became fast friends with them during their exile days on the run from the law after meeting Sam and Steve during one of their recon missions. Of course you knew why they were on the run, it’s why you never told them everything. If they knew-

You couldn’t get any words out as your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water. You were blindsided seeing Zemo again and you couldn’t think straight, it had been so long and so many feelings began to rush to the surface you didn’t know where to start or what to say. Letting your eyes drift back to Zemo you pleaded with him silently to keep quiet, to keep your past a secret for the sake of your friendship, the sake of your reputation.

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. “No. I’m afraid I don’t have the honour of knowing your friend,” his lips curved into a smirk as you let out a breath, “though I would certainly like to be introduced.”

“Let’s get on the plane, then we can play nicey - nicey.”

Zemo brushed past you as Sam followed him onto the jet. Your mind was racing, memories of your past rushing back as they escaped the box you’d kept  sealed for the last god knows how many years. “Hey,” Bucky placed his hand on your arm, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just a shock, thought I was getting flowers.” The close contact of Buckys body to yours would usually send you into a tailspin, racing heart and nervous smiles. Now, it was empty; void. Your thoughts occupied by the passenger on the jet.

“I’ll bear that in mind for next time.” He promised as you turned towards the jet, “Let’s get going. The quicker we’re out of Berlin the better.” 

Walking down the gangway you took the seat opposite Zemo, Bucky opting for the one to your right across the aisle. Letting your head fall back as the engine roared to life you laughed a little, rolling your head to look at the super soldier. “I thought I was getting some of those famous plums.” 

You could feel his chocolate eyes watching and assessing the situation, just as easily as you could feel your nerves tingling on the back of your neck. Bucky let off a casual laugh, his head lolled to the side too. “Next time Doll, I promise I’ll get you some of those plums.”

“Perhaps I could get some too.” Flipping your head back you could tell he was teasing, testing the boundaries that were being set and seeing how far he could push it. “I do love plum jam, especially the homemade kind.” 

You set your jaw as his eyes began to dance with mischief. He held the power now and he knew it, you had no choice but to bite your tongue as he toyed with you as innocently as he could. “Well I bet you’ve never had jam as good as Y/N’s, she makes the best jam I’ve ever tasted.” Your heart swelled at Sams sweet compliment as a smile formed as a thanks on your lips.

“Oh I bet it’s delicious.” Zemo drawled, his lilting accent just as you remember it.

“So where are we going now that we’ve broken a convicted felon out of prison?” His eyes dropped from you to look out the window as he took a glass of champagne from the assistant. The old man offered one to yourself, but you declined politely.

“Madripoor,” The Sokovian opposite you drawled in his accent, his fingers pausing in the pages of a book. “Now I don’t recognise this name...Nakajima?”

Leaping out of his seat before you knew it Bucky had one hand fisted in Zemos shirt, the other grabbing a little notebook you recognised as Steve’s. “You touch that again, and I’ll kill you.”

Sinking back in your seat you watched the three men bicker over Marvin Gaye. Taking a cup of tea from the assistant as you relaxed back into your seat, you couldn’t help but wonder why you were heading to Madripoor of all places. You’d only been once, a lifetime ago now, but it made an impression.

“So who are we playing dress up as?” You asked the man opposite you, sipping your tea. You knew his games, and you knew he’d take any opportunity to be the one in the know.

Sam sat forward, “I’m sorry, dress up?”

Zemo heaved a sigh, his hands folding over his lap with a head tilt. “We all have a part to play if we are to get the information we need from Selby. Sam, you will play the part of Conrad Mack aka The Smiling Tiger.” You snorted at Sams expression, his deadpan face betraying his thoughts.

“Seriously? He even has a bad nickname man.”

“James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Your smile dropped, you knew that was going to be hard for Bucky. That much was evident from the scowl on his face. “And you, Y/n.”

His smile oozed mischief. “You will be my beautiful wife, accompanying her husband on business.” 

Sam and Bucky began to protest as his smirk grew. “Fine.” Their shouts of protest falling short as you and Zemo started each other down.

“You can’t be serious Y/N.” Sam began, his hands flying to the brown eyed man opposite you.

Bucky shook his head, letting loose a humourless laugh. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near her, then-”

You felt a swell in your chest at Buckys protectiveness, “It’s either be his wife or his whore,” Zemo’s smirk dropped, his eyes glazing over as you smiled weakly at your friends. “Plus he’s rich, I’m getting some jewellery out of this.”

Closing your eyes to get some rest before you landed, you could feel a set of eyes on you; whether they were chocolate brown or ice blue was a completely different matter.

[guacameowle]

Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC - Notes / Opinion

Y’all know me. I have to take notes for everything I play or read or watch. I can’t help it. Here we have Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC. The infamous bad end. The red shoes bad end. The “kinky” bad end, to some. Not my favorite bad end, but a memorable one. With that said, let’s dive in! Spoilers ahead!

Episode 1

This DLC has multiple endings! Interesting. Depending on how I answer will determine which end I get. This has me thinking there may be a way to get Jumin back onto a healthier relationship track? I will eventually aim to achieve both endings, though.

Jumin’s hand is fucking HUGE. MASSIVE. WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING HIM? Please hold while I scream at Kristan (jalaqueeno) about this. Holy shit.

It’s been one month since Jumin went to work. One whole month! Mr. Jumin Workaholic Han hasn’t gone to work in ONE MONTH! This man has made it his sole mission to keep you locked up & stay with you. Dude, like… why are you so obsessed with me~?

MANSION? They’re not in the penthouse anymore? I mean… there are worse cages to be kept in.

I am absolutely playing the answers that subtly suggest I am not ok with this new forced live-in situation.

HE’S TRACKING HOW MANY STEPS I’VE TAKEN. Wait until this man finds out I hate walking the mile…

Jumin continues to call this a game. Says he has a therapist on standby. Does he know that HE can use the therapist? In fact, I highly recommend it.

He says you can leave at any time. Color me suspicious. I don’t believe him for one second. How far is this “game” going?

MY PRECIOUS BABY DARLING SWEETIE PIE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHOLESOME BEAUTY PERFECT CUPCAKE ELIZABETH 3RD HAS ARRIVED!

According to Jaehee, MC has been with Jumin for two months now.

Interesting how Jaehee makes a point to mention the mansion being untouched as this is where Jumin keeps his childhood toys. He brought you where he keeps his toys. Does he really see all of this as a game & you’re a toy? Can he snap out of it if you call for the game to end, or will there be backlash?

Some of these answer choices feel tricky. I’m trying to gently weasel my way out of this “game” without hurting anyone.

“Don’t say that to my master.” Listen, Jumin is my favorite man in this game, but that answer option physically made me cringe. Me? Call a man master? I could never. Not me. Not this bitch.

Wow. Ok. All this stuff with Jumin’s mom is moving fast. I can already see if he actually does lose her, it may make him hold onto MC that much more/harder. Maybe. 

Woah woah woah. I know Jumin is acting a little suspicious & out of sorts, BUT AIN’T NO ONE MARRYING HIM EXCEPT ME. ALL RIGHT? I’ll fight. I know where to get a bomb…

Excuse me? A fitness trainer? Yeah........ about that. I’m going to have to leave. Sorry this situation didn’t work out between us Juju. Best of luck, though!

Episode 2

My room is kind of cute! Wait, why the fuck aren’t Jumin & I sharing a room? If I’m locked up & tracked, you better believe I’m sleeping next to that dick.

Send a message to space? The fuck?

Oh. Duh.

“I heard that obsession comes from anxiety.” DING DING DING DING.

Omg Seven. You can’t just ask me to open my box. I’m seeing another man...

LONG HAIRED JUMIN?????

Jumin really didn’t have one woman in his life who wasn’t cold or weird to him. I know we already knew from his route he had a difficult upbringing. But I hadn’t expected them to dive into that aspect for this DLC but I can see how there’s the connection.

I told him I wanted to be alone to see if he’d respect boundaries.

OH SHIT THAT CHAPTER ENDED SO QUICK. DID I FUCK UP?!

Episode 3

So are we meant to see this adult Jumin, playing this “game” with MC, as him regressing within himself & falling back to enjoying fantasy? Avoiding reality? Something he didn’t allow himself to do as an actual child? He didn’t understand why people indulge in magic, fantasy, make-believe as a kid. Now he’s vastly overshot the mark to the point that this fantasy life with MC has become his “reality.”

DO NOT GIVE THIS BABY BOY WINE, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Omg. Little Jumin is so cute. I will fight everyone to protect him.

This woman done fucked up. Look at this child, you’ve given him anxiety. He doesn’t know if you want him to be mechanical or a normal kid. Jesus. All this Work Work Work No Emotion Work Only No Feelings bullshit is her fault. Jumin’s only doing what he was taught. He was told this is all he’s good for, all he was meant for.

“I feel like I am a tool. Sometimes I want to be treated like a son.” STOP. IF THIS GAME MAKES ME CRY. I’M GONNA FIGHT SOMEONE.

IF Y’ALL DON’T GIVE THIS LITTLE BOY THE LOVE & AFFECTION & CARE HE DESERVES

Jumin is obsessed with grape juice. Grows up to be obsessed with wine. Y’all made him an alcoholic.

“I am not like her. I will not be cold. I will be warm to my family…” JUMIIIIIN. THIS LITTLE BOY IS TRYING SO HARD! IT IS POSSIBLE JUMIN! AIM FOR YOUR GOOD & NORMAL ENDINGS!

SLEEPY JUMIN HAN CG

OH FUCK

OH FUCK ME

OH HELLO HUSBAND GODDAMN YOU LOOKIN’ CUTE AS FUCK

LET ME HOLD YOU JUMIN. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED & HELD & CARED FOR!

I think you have to choose the answers that gently pry you away from Jumin? He can’t force this relationship. It can’t be controlled by him. It isn’t a game. He needs to come to that realization, but he’s really not making that connection...

“I have never been involved in a deal outside a form of give-and-take.” Oh, that hurt. He doesn’t trust you to stay with him unless he can offer you something? His money/extravagance/keeping you in this ��game” you started with him & him playing into it is what he has to do to keep you with him.

“Please show me that you love me. I want to know what love is.” Insert Explicit MC x Jumin Fanfic Here. I’ll show you, Jumin. I’ll show you all night long.

*Jumin snuggled closer* In my own personal canon, that means we FUCKED. SLOWLY. GENTLY. ROMANTICALLY.

Episode 4

The creepy lullaby music started up. Shit is about to go down.

Omg is this butler going to lock me in the basement?

Lmao did I fuck up with the “what’s a cage doing here?” reply? How was I supposed to know there wasn’t actually a cage there? No Jumin, I don’t want a cage. …. at least not for me, but we can discuss that later.

SHE WOULD LOCK HIM IN THE BASEMENT? That’s it. I’m fighting everyone. Stay behind me Jumin, I’ll protect you.

“Let me talk to her! I’d like a word with her!” LET ME AT HER, JUMIN. I HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY. SHE’S DYING. I HAVE A SHORT WINDOW. LET ME AT HER.

Not little boy Jumin Shawshank Redemptioning his way out of the basement omggggg

JUMIN YOU WANNA FUCK? NOW? This man is sending me through whirlwind of emotions.

OH SHIT. I’m torn between the “whisper in his ear” option or the “let’s change our roles for just today” because as y’all may know, I enjoy being in charge.

Me: “Let’s change our roles…” Jumin: “Uhhh maybe we should leave.” Darling, you know you’re a submissive. It’s ok. No judgement.

FADE TO BLAAAAACK. THEY FUCKIN’.

I’M HOOTIN’ & HOLLERING. After the fade the black I said I would stay in my own clothes & Jumin says, “They’re dirtier than you would think.” DID THIS MAN JUST CUM EVERYWHERE? LMAAAOOOO

Happy End!

Ayyy we did it, lads! Unlocked the happy ending first. Even though we already gave Jumin a happy ending in that basement, you know what I’m sayin’~

LMFAOOOOO JUMIN STILL CAN’T DRIVE LMFAOOOO

Wait, turned our backs on everything? How the fuck is this the happy end? Happy for who? Jumin?

So… what the fuck was that?

The good ending just reenforces this “only us” narrative? The good ending is that this “game” Jumin & MC are playing doesn’t end? Nothing resolves. He doesn’t mend any relationships. There’s no healing or moving on. He exerts more of his control on MC & takes more drastic measures to ensure they’re together.

WAIT. DID WE JUST FUCKING ABANDON ELIZABETH 3RD TOO? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS ENDING SUCKS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FUCK THAT. PISS OFF, JUMIN HAN. I WON’T HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. YOU DID NOT JUST TURN INTO A PET ABANDONER RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE. I HATE IT. NO. I’M OUT.

The CG was hot, though. Jumin in black on black on black? AND GLOVES?! Hell yeah. That’s a whole meal right there. Delicious. 

Episode 1 (Attempt 2)

Well, time to try to get the bad end (????) now I guess. Maybe the bad end is that this game of their’s actually does break. That’s what I’m hoping for at least.

Jumin already making jokes about switching roles. Jumin, my love. I am more than happy - extremely willing & eager actually - to be in charge here.

Pretending to want all of this ‘being a possession’ nonsense is making me uncomfyyyy.

Episode 2 (Attempt 2)

“Do something Jumin wouldn’t like” Lmaooo it calls Zen. HAHAHAHAHA

I think Zen’s voice acting is some of the most expressive, in this whole game.

Ah, so then I guess turning on the computer let’s you talk to Yoosung.

Not Jumin deliberately cutting my call. The audacity.

Jumin, possessiveness can sometimes be cute. But in this case, I’m not having it. Not interested.

All the toys in the world didn’t keep Jumin entertained. BUT THIS PUSSY DOES.

Episode 3 (Attempt 2)

Flew through that one just choosing the options I didn’t choose before. Didn’t seem to glean any new information except the fact that Jumin no longer has a desire to form a family, says it entirely depends on how badly MC wants a family. Continues that narrative of, if MC wants it, he will provide it... to keep her.

Episode 4 (Attempt 2)

So we’re just going to leave gold bars in that safe?

Happy End Again????

It says I got Happy End again, even though I chose entirely different answers & went along with being Jumin’s possession...

OH WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT!

I can’t believe my first meeting with Jumin’s mother is after he rawed me in the basement & had me put on a fantasy fairy tale princess dress to make our escape. Omfg. Ma’am, your son’s cum is still dripping out of me, please give me a few minutes to freshen up first. Goddamn.

Jumin’s mom is named Carolyn!

I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a family argument while Jumin’s cum glues my thighs together.

She ain’t sick. She’s lying. I’m calling it.

“Simple - make him soft” Jumin: “Like mashed potato?” LIKE MASHED POTATO? FIRST OF ALL, JUMIN SAYING ‘MASHED POTATO’ IS SO FUCKING CUTE I WANNA SCREAM. Secondly I meant, make him soft as in help him let down some barriers & let people in.

“I heard sons are psychologically bound to be attracted to women reminiscent of their mothers.” Ok yes, that may be true but you don’t have to remind me. Bleh. Stop.

“If my consort is to leave me one day, I will be scarred for the rest of my life.” I am sad for him. So sad.

ONE BILLION, TO BREAK UP WITH JUMIN? WOMAN, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE.

The “mind if I touch it” option fucking sent me. I’m laughing so hard. It is 1am. I might wake up my neighbor! I chose the “…..” option though. I’m sticking with Jumin through this. Let’s see what happens.

… I’ll loop back & choose the money if I can though to see what chaos occurs.

“This is exactly what people mean when they say, ‘So not cool.’” JUMIN. NOW IS NOT THE TIME LMFAOOOO

Jumin went back to work. All right, that’s progress. He renovated the basement on a happier note. Ok ok, small progress. 

“Now I wish to paint this entire place with our love.” TIME TO CHRISTEN EVERY ROOM WITH SEEEEX

THAT CG!!!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!!!!

Looping back to choose more options for this episode...

CALLED JUMIN’S MOM AN OLD HAG & JUMIN LIKED WHEN I DID THAT LMAOOOO. I would like to call her a lot of things.

Final thoughts:

Long story short (too late), this DLC reenforces that this is a Bad Ending path, in which you won’t find a fix for Jumin, won’t find a way to get him back on track to his true good end. And that’s ok! This is a bad end after all! Though both endings are listed as “good” or “happy” endings, they’re still set in this twisted relationship, this weak form of love, Jumin believes is real. He calls it a game, says a therapist is on standby, says MC can leave any time she wants, yet when she chooses options that distances herself, suggests Jumin pay more attention to something other than her, or shows she’d like more freedom, he immediately blocks that path in some way. Even when choosing all the options that don’t give in to the plaything/being controlled role, the conclusion is Jumin reenforcing his control harder - you both escape together to be alone, neglecting everyone & everything in your life, & Jumin insists all he has to do is take care of you in various ways - to give you everything - to keep you with him. Even following the confrontation with Jumin’s mother & turning down the option to leave Jumin for money, it shows how far Jumin will go to keep MC. He truly believes he has to provide everything (money, security, possessions, etc.) in exchange for her love, her company, her willingness to be with him. This man has slowly been broken over & over again over the course of his life & he’s finally given in to these poor teachings & selfish encouragements, & has convinced himself what he’s found is full love where he provides anything & everything to keep MC’s interest in him. A clear give & take relationship. A contract. A game. And he’s not about to let that go.

Personally, while this path isn’t my favorite for Jumin, I was still absolutely impressed with the two different ways they had this particular Bad End play out. An emotional read from start to finish & back again.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Sandman (Peter Parker x Sandman Reader)

Sorry this one’s kinda shit cause I meant to put it with the other villain request. I decided not to and ended up having no ideas for this one.

Requested by: anon Could you pretty please write a Peter Parker x Sandman!Male reader? He was always my favourite Sinister Six member growing up and for now nobody has been cast as him in the MCU, so it feels like a perfect role for reader inserts. You could make the reader straight up evil or you could make him a more sympathetic antagonist like the Sandman was in the OG trilogy.

Word count: 1617

When they told you they could make your life better, you didn't think you'd end up as a science experiment. You had just gone through the events of the Battle of New York as a child and lost your family. The first people you turned to were adults who said they could help, and they lied.

They had done testing on you after you panicked about being able to turn into sand of all things. But within a few days, you found a vent with just enough space for you to filter yourself out and back into the real world. You changed your appearance when alone in public and didn't draw attention to yourself so they couldn't find you.

There wasn't a day that went by that didn't make you think of the Battle of New York. Your whole life was there in New York City, so you couldn't leave. You saw your family dying when you fell asleep. When you woke up, your roommate would give you a sympathetic smile as she made you breakfast.

Betty Brant was understanding and had lost family in the event as well. She wasn't too close to her cousins, but it still affected her and her family. Her parents were kind enough to let you stay with them for many years, knowing how much the event affected your life. None of them had anticipated exactly how much it affected you.

The first time you used your powers in public, you stopped a car crash, but the traffic caused more damage than the initial crash. You fled immediately, and suddenly your fleeing figure was on the front page of newspapers and TV news channels. Still, you remained hidden.

The ability of changing your appearance was by far one of the best parts of your unwelcome powers. Turning into sand served as a good way to sneak around. It led you to your job working with another scientist. Sure, they weren't exactly your favourite people, but Toomes had a goal of keeping his family safe considering the dangerous lives people lived when amongst superpowered people. You knew that he was just doing what he could to keep his family supported.

Whenever he needed a hand, you snuck out of the Brant's house late at night to aid him in collecting technology from different facilities. Sometimes it was just a more difficult job, like Avengers-related items, which meant that you would have to help. Your only request was that he did not go near Midtown Tech. You had to keep Betty safe. He agreed, since his daughter was there.

Then Spider-Man came along and tore that life apart.

Toomes was sent to jail, and he had broken his promise of not going near Midtown. He let Shocker stand guard there on the night of your homecoming dance, of all times, fighting the vigilante. He had put your one, and maybe only, friend at risk for his own desires. You split from him and took your own path. It wasn't quite the best idea.

"Hands in the air!"

You mumbled a curse to yourself as you turned around, your arms up in surrender. Your appearance was that of a random person you had seen the other day. The news caught on eventually that all these random people, ex-criminals or not, were not the ones committing petty theft or, in your current case, not-so-petty theft.

"Look, I'm not just going to stand around," you called back, the new voice unfamiliar to you. "I'll escape easily."

There were a few more shouts and you stepped out of the broken glass window and onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, you were hit in the shoulder and thrown to the ground.

"Hey! What the-"

A web covered your torso, holding you down. Spider-Man.

"God, you're stupid," you grumbled.

You let yourself turn into sand and escaped his webs easily. He stood on a rooftop, and you turned back into sand to get yourself up there.

"So, we finally meet. After you took down my employer and I realised who he really was, I thought I wouldn't have to see that stupid mask in person," you said.

"H-Hey! It's not stupid!" Spider-Man whined.

"Oh really?"

You shifted your appearance to look like him, a perfect copy.

"Oh, do I really stand like that? Wow, that's so awkward," Spider-Man mumbled to himself. "Maybe I should put my arms-"

"Pay attention!" you shouted. "You don't know anything about me, and I don't want to get involved with you. You let me leave and never cross paths with me again, and life will be better for you."

"Are you threatening me? Cause that kind of sounds like one. I don't really wanna fight anyone if I don't have to," he said, quickly enough that you couldn't interrupt him.

You got closer to him until you were only a foot away, and pointed your currently red-gloved finger at his chest.

"If you stay out of my life, I'll stay out of yours. I'm sure you have loved ones you don't want getting hurt, do you?"

"You wouldn't."

"No, but information is easy to get, Spider-Man. And no one can get it quieter than someone who can turn into sand."

"You've lost someone, haven't you?"

It was quiet, and the only thing you could hear were the sirens still surrounding you, and the occasional shout from a drunk person on the street.

"It’s none of your business."

You collapsed yourself into a pile of sand and left with the night wind to blow you back home. You could still feel the crack in your voice, sounding just like Spider-Man, in the last sentence you spoke.

———

It had been a few weeks since you took any jobs. Betty was completely oblivious to anything you had done in the past year, but she knew when something was wrong. Every once in a while, she'd come to the room you shared with her with two bowls of your favourite snacks and would watch a film or show you enjoy. She knew you so well and you felt bad that you never told her about what happened to you. Still, you had to keep her safe.

It was some random day during midterms when you were just stressed about everything. You found a random rooftop in the city to hang around, wearing the face of yet another stranger. You heard a distant whooshing noise and then quiet footsteps on the roof behind you.

"The city's beautiful at night, isn't it?" you asked, leaning back on your hands. "Too bad it's the reason we can't see the stars out here."

"Uh, yeah," Spider-Man responded. "Sometimes I just like to hang around Times Square with all the billboards."

He took a seat somewhere on the edge of the rooftop near you. You turned to look at him.

"That's the same suit you wore last time. You used to have that old one with the hoodie, didn't you? Like when you were fighting Toomes," you observed.

"Yeah, I have a... sponsor?"

"You don't seem so sure about that."

Spider-Man laughed, mimicking your position leaning back on his hands.

"Hey, about last time, I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. If you have lost someone, I'm sorry," he said, just loud enough for you to hear over the nighttime city sounds.

"It was my family. Battle of New York. And now I have these stupid powers because of it."

Your voice began to break again. The first time telling anyone the truth was always the hardest.

"Let me guess: you didn't know where else to go?" Spider-Man asked. "So you took the first option and it was the worst one?"

You nodded, tears beginning to fall. He shuffled a bit closer and put a hand on your shoulder.

"You know- no, you don't know. God, that's stupid."

You let yourself chuckle at his awkward slip-up.

"Okay. When I first got my powers, I did something stupid. It got my uncle killed. But  he gave me words to live by and it's the one thing that pushes me forward. I do what I do because I have the ability to do it. It's so easy for people to give in to the money, but I guess that's the one thing that makes me different. I might not exactly be the richest person around, but what does it matter when there are people whose lives could be saved because a kid decided that he didn't want them to go through what he did?"

You took a few moments to contemplate his words as you searched his mask.

"How... how do you give so much even when you're struggling like that?"

He shrugged and stood up, offering his hand.

"Maybe another time. Mind if I swing you around? Just for fun."

You ended up going through Times Square, laughing all the while. You had him bring you home and let your disguise fall.

"Hey, this is... Wait, I know you. I-I've seen you," the vigilante stuttered.

"This is Betty Brant's house. I'm (Y/N)," you said.

The extremely stupid man pulled off his mask in excitement.

"No way! I'm Peter! From the Academic Decathalon team with Betty!" he exclaimed.

"Perfect disguise, huh? A teenage nerd who can hide his body under baggy clothes. Way better than what I can do," you joked.

He gave you a hug as he was leaving, both of you holding on longer than you had to.

"You can always talk to me. I know what it's like to lose family and get some really weird powers along with it. You aren't alone."

You smiled into his shoulder. Maybe things would be okay.

[walker-journal]

At Hell’s Gates (Bea, Adam, Luce- POTW)

Participants: Beatrice Vural (Spellcaster- Fiona), Lucinda Vural (Spellcaster-Cal), Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir)

Summary: Adam brings Nell’s skin talisman to the Vural house to plan a rescue operation into a Hell Dimension with Luce and Bea as time runs out. 

Content Warning: Allusion to sibling death in the Bea resurrection plot

In a way Adam appreciated the breakneck speed of preparations, the staggering level of planning needed to even attempt this almost impossible task. Every second fussing over environment resist gear, talking to Naomi about atmospheric poisons, and running over possible dimensional scenarios with mom was one where he wasn’t thinking about Nell being tortured in hell. Eventually he just had to drug himself to sleep, as he’d be no use on the mission already exhausted. 

Adam caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows of the Vural home. He looked like someone about to venture into a radiative wasteland or wade through mustard gas, heavy boots, sealed armor, and a gas mask hanging from his belt. In truth, even with all this equipment he was pathetically underprepared for what was coming. 

But as always, Adam put on a face of stony resolution. He’d mastered the unphased action hero act a long time ago, even if his reflection had a numb thousand-yard stare that didn’t quite fit. 

“So what’s the magic plan?” 

The bracelet around Luce’s wrist had pinged the second Adam had crossed the boundary line, the magic a reminder of the sister she had lost. Nell had been the one who’d insisted upon the bracelets, something simple and small that they could always keep on them. She’d been so different back then. Younger. Unburdened by the weight that this town placed on its inhabitants. Luce let out a sigh and made her way to the front door, letting Adam inside. He looked like he was going to be rolling up into Chernobyl and, for all any of them knew, he would be. They didn’t know what was on the other side of those portals. And as much as Luce wanted to rush into the first rift she saw, she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave Bea here, alone, to worry and to curse her name. 

Cupping a glass of water in her hands, Luce looked over at her older sister, uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m not the one with the master plan, not this time.” Not ever really. She was just here to get things done, to bring Nell home. She might have lines now, boundaries she wouldn’t cross. But she needed to bring her sister home. “Bea, you find anything in the books on how we can get her back?”

In her early twenties Bea had been worried about her breakups and losing touch with her friends, how different that was from her sisters’ lives. How different that was from Adam’s life. He was walking into war for her baby sister and the eldest Vural could not help but see the flash of the blade cutting down when she looked at him. How many people would risk their lives for Nell? Would Adam be added to the list that had lost theirs for her? Nell, of course, was worth it, but Bea couldn’t help wishing that Adam and Nell could simply lead a life that was similar to Bea’s at their age. 

Her shadows swirled at her feet, agitated by the whirling emotions suffocating their mother, they clung to her ankles as she moved to grab a tome she had taken from Nell’s things. “We’ll be using her magic for this. Or at least we will be using an adjusted version of her magic,” Her voice flowed confidently through the space, coating every surface with honeyed hope that she did not feel. Is this how Luce and Nell felt when they lost her? Luce, now, had witnessed both of her sisters gone, taken unfairly from this world. In an impulsive move, Bea found her little sister’s hand, squeezing as she thought of the terror that must be drowning the middle Vural. “Adam, we will get her back.” Bea would destroy this world for her sister, if it meant she was safe. She would tear the fabric that kept this plane stable. She wondered if the universe knew, if it was prepared to go to war for Penelope Vural. Bea was ready. 

Adam had always been cautioned against hope. It was a purely therapeutic emotion, meant to comfort the dread of uncertainty. Esther Walker had instructed her children that facts should be assessed only for what they were rather than what we want them to be. We are not gods. This is not Hollywood. The cold universe wouldn’t fudge the numbers just because some monkeys on a random rock in the Milky Way had feelings in their skull. 

But Adam knew that not everyone grew up with their mom bluntly stating that they’d eventually lose everyone they care about in the long war. While Adam knew this grimness was Esther’s way of loving him authentically, it’d probably be cruel to give Nell’s sisters the same treatment right now. 

“Hey if we got a plan anything’s possible” he assured Beatrice with a confident lie of smile. Trying not to look at the darkness bubbling at the deathless woman’s feed, Adam turned his attention to Luce briefly. “Hey uh, resident fire scientist. Any way I could get something that might give me a chance if like...there is like an inferno or something? Just a few seconds to get the fuck out?” 

Adam shifted his weight, leather and alloyed kevlar creaking with the moment. “How do we get access Nell’s magic then?”

Bea’s hand slipped into her own and, for the first time, Luce realized just how changed her sister was. The familiar warmth, the heat that had always matched her own-- a source of both frustration and comfort that had followed their whole lives… It was gone now. Bea’s fire was gone. She didn’t have it anymore. She never would. But she was still here, still standing, still trying. And Luce was going to try too. She’d reclaimed her fire, she’d manage to fan the spark back into a blaze, and now that she had the power back? The least she could do was help Adam. To keep him safe. Fuck. She nodded slowly, mulling over how she’d manage something like that. Their mother, she’d made charms to protect Nell from their fire as children, back before they had total control. “I think we have something that we could use-- a necklace Nellie used to wear when she was little. Kept her safe from us, before we could control our fire.” She said, dreading the idea of going into Nell’s room to look for the charm. She didn’t want to step foot in there. Just because she could expect the same anguish that had overtaken her when she’d went into Bea’s room last year-- that didn’t make it any easier. This town, this fucking town. She’d thought that the nightmare had ended, that Bea was safe, that Nell was safe. But nothing changed here.

Looking at the book in Bea’s hand, Luce swallowed. “That’s one of Nells. I don’t know how to do what she does, Bea. Neither one of us do. Summoning, blood magic-- I… What are you planning?”

The charm. Bea had forgotten about the charm that used to keep Nellie safe from them. A physical reminder that she was different from her sister. Bea didn’t blame her for not keeping it on her as an adult. “Do you know where that is?” Nell could have thrown it out years ago, but the youngest Vural tended to know when to hold onto things that could be useful. Bea hoped that she had classified this as something useful enough to hold onto, even with it’s baggage. “I don’t know how to either, but Leah is going to help me research too,” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “We have some luck on our side, we’re already somewhat connected. Her magic is, obviously, connected to ours, but by bringing me back we’re even further intertwined. Your magic combined brought me back, so we can use that as a way to channel her too.” It wouldn’t be that simple though, there were more steps that she wasn’t quite too sure on yet. “We need something else, something to track her too, but I’m not completely sure how to do that yet, if you have any suggestions.”

Adam nodded and mouthed thanks to Luce as Beatrice spoke. He hated to part the sisters with something that reminded them of Nell but when you are about to try a longshot, anything that could ease the odds even slightly was needed. Beatrice's question brought a stab of pain as Adam stirred from where he’d sat, reached into a pocket, and withdrew a battered compass. 

“Nell gave this to me, it was uh a present,” Adam’s stomach clenched at the cruel irony of being given a six months dating present by a sad fire cat. It’d been the morning after he’d taken Nell out to ask their relationship to end for safety’s sake, only for that to be the mistake that caused the disaster he’d hoped to avoid. 

“It points uh,” the answer was that it pointed towards home, though Nell had cautioned that it was more metaphorical than literal. “It can take me to her,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Shifting uncomfortably, Luce swallowed. “It’s in her room. I can…” I don’t want to go in there, not alone. But you could never understand, Bea. You weren’t left behind the way we were. “Get it. Yeah, I’ll grab it.” She said before pushing back from the kitchen table, her hand slipping from Bea’s. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Adam pulled out a worn looking compass. As Adam explained what it was, Luce couldn’t help but wonder how Nell had gotten her hands on something like that. And just how lucky they were that she had. Luce nodded. “Good. That should… definitely help.” She was dragging her feet, she knew that. Just bite the bullet. With a slightly forced smile, Luce patted the door frame. “I’ll get the necklace.”

The walk up the stairs and down the hall to Nells was a short one, but every step filled Luce with that same anxiety she’d felt every time she had walked past Bea’s door last summer. It was a dread, a fear. That no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be enough. And that all that would be left of her sister would be tucked away in a room. That everything inside would stop being a part of Bea, of Nell, and start being a memorial. A memory. She didn’t want to step foot inside that room. But she had to. If they wanted to find Nell, this was their best shot. Luce pushed open the door and forced herself not to pay attention to the potted plants on their shelves, their leaves wilting a little from lack of care. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the desk with books still open, the bed unmade with rumpled sheets, as though Nell had just left for the day. These were all reminders of her sister that she couldn’t handle. Instead, Luce began to look for the necklace. 

It wasn’t until this past year that Bea truly understood love. In a sense, she had looked at love the same way her mother did, based on what the other person could do for her. Bea had collected people for their skills, pocketed the ones who were the most useful and claimed she understood love through them. It wasn’t until she had been lost that she got just how powerful love was and even then, though she had seen so much work put into her resurrection, she hadn’t witnessed it all. She hadn’t seen the planning or the original mourning, she had not been involved in the panic and grief. She was unable to escape it here, where love twisted into melancholy suffocating them as aptly as summer heat did in the afternoon. 

Bea reached out to Adam, “Can I hold it? I’ll give it back to you after.” She couldn’t take the physical piece of Nell he had left, but looking at it would help her form a plan. They were all relying on her to make a plan that would bring Nell back. With Luce gone searching, she looked at him for a long moment, considering him. “Adam, I know how much a person would do for Nell.” I know sacrifice and I feel like I’m looking at one. “Please do your best to come back to us too.” Some of that honey sweet hope had dissipated now that Luce was gone, Adam didn’t need that, not in the way Luce did. “Is there anyone who can go with you as back up?” Please, don’t do this alone. 

Adam pressed the compass in Beatrice’s hand. It took Adam a bit to answer Beatrice's request. His wide distant eyes and the lost way they drifted around the Vural’s home, looking anywhere but Bea’s face, revealed the lie behind the firm set of his jaw.

It’d been a long time since Adam had felt his age. Uncertainty and finding yourself were unnecessary when you’d grown up already knowing you’d be a soldier and what war you’d be fighting in. His civilian peers had gone through heartbreaks, angst, anger, cycles of rebellion, maturation, acceptance, and reinvention. But Adam had already grown up at sixteen, when he signed away his life to fight and die in service to humanity. He’d learned how to make bombs, lethal holds, blades, marksmanship, and how to keep his head in a warzone when everyone else had been fretting about what school clique to fall in. 

But now Adam suddenly felt like a child in this tactical armor. It was as if he’d finally woken up from a dream to realize the weight was too heavy for him, but it was already way too late to learn all that stuff the other kids took for granted. Adam marveled at how narrow his own knowledge of the world was. 

Honestly? He knew way more about how to kill monsters than how to be human. 

With bittersweetness, Adam realized that made him exactly what Nell hadn't needed, and only now that she was trapped in Hell was he an ideal partner. 

“I promised Luce I’d come with her back to Earth,” was the only assurance Adam could offer Beatrice. He shook his head at the matter of back up. “I’ve got family and Hunter friends who volunteered but I can’t ask them to take this risk. Besides we need all hands on deck to deal with all the shit coming out of the Portals.”

There were times people should be selfish and this felt like a time, but Bea knew that Adam wouldn’t agree. She could spend all night trying to convince him otherwise and it wouldn't work. He was more stubborn than Nellie sometimes, which was saying something. They were the only people that could get through to each other sometimes. It reminded her a bit of how she and Felix could be with each other. 

“Is it going to be that bad?” She had no idea what these portals could mean for everyone else after all this. Honestly, she didn’t really care what happened as long as the people she loved were going to be okay. “You aren’t asking them if they offered, Adam.”

“In situations like these the portals often get worse, opening wider till they let bigger and bigger things through, stuff that our weapons won't work on,” Adam claimed, suggesting perhaps that the already deadly things coming through the dimensional breaches right now were just small fry compared to what really waited in the beyond. 

“Eventually we get what’s sometimes called a Hellmouth,” the Hunter said, numbly staring at a wall as the present mixed with another time where doomsday had loomed near. “Unless its stopped reality itself could be permanently fucked around here...well...fucked even harder I mean, in a way that can’t be covered up from the outside world any more. They’ll probably notice the tentacle godzillas after a bit.”  

Everyone had called Dad a hero. Had he felt like this, just another expendable piece of kindling thrown on the fire to keep ‘normal’ going for just a little while longer? 

“Hey uh,” Adam prevaricated with a shrug knowing Beatrice was correct. “I’ve ask people for supplies and stuff. They’ve been very generous, but actually going in is something I don’t think I have the right to ask.” Of someone that wasn’t raised to die that way, was rest that was left unsaid. 

It was always the end of the world, it seemed. No matter what everyone did to fix it, something else would come and take the mantle. Bea couldn’t help but feel as though sometimes these things were inevitable. It didn’t stop her from understanding the need to fight, if anything she got that this made people fight harder, because at least they had done something then. Still to fight for a world that didn’t know you were doing it must be exhausting. “So, it needs to close or else we’re all going to die via horrible ways.” The countdown they had already started to tick faster. “I guess it's good that we have people who are going to help then.”

Her throat tightened with unsaid words of caution and unnecessary attempts to dissuade him. Bea knew the look in his eyes, knew that no matter what she did or said, he wouldn’t turn from this course of action. She was sure she would have seen the same look in her own if someone had dared to stop her before she found Nell. “I suppose giving you supplies is enough.” It wasn’t. 

Bea went back to Nell’s book, hoping that skimming again would reveal something else. And it did. She looked between the compass in her hand and the word bone. “Adam, do you know if Nell’s been keeping anything she’s killed? Like the bones of a monster?” The words came out quickly, excited by the potential that laid between them now. 

Adam nodded. “On our first mission together, there was an Alchemist dude who was using a Dolophage to harvest intense emotions and memories from trauma patients,” the Hunter explained, swallowing down the bittersweet feeling of that recollection. It was hard to imagine that’d hadn’t even been a year ago. “Nell forged the Reversal Talisman so the Dologphage’s powers reflected back on it when it tried to tentacle my brain,” Adam explained, poking his ears to illustrate that he’d volunteered to get fed on by the demon as bait. “After we killed it she kept its bones.” 

Digging around in Nell’s room wasn’t easy. Luce had known it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was so much uncertainty and that sense of doubt loomed over her every move. The moment she’d heard that Nell was gone, the second she’d heard from Adam, a pit had formed in her stomach. Or maybe it reopened-- maybe it wasn’t a pit so much as it was a gaping wound, created by Bea’s death, that she’d barely been able to tend to. She hadn’t stopped to process the loss, the grief, the anger. The anger. She’d only managed to get a hold of that until it was too late. And just as she was finally coming to grips with the events of the past year, White Crest found a fucking way to open up the wounds. Shutting the dresser drawer she’d been pawing through, Luce settled down on the edge of Nell’s unmade bed. 

Luce clenched her jaw as she tried to sort through her thoughts, trying to figure out where Nell might keep the necklace. But all she could think of was how much it would hurt if she had to do this for real. If she had to pack up boxes of Nell’s things. She hadn’t had to do it with Bea, they’d known how to bring her back, known exactly what they needed to do, even if they weren’t sure if it would work. But Nell was lost. Gone. And Luce had no fucking clue how she could help. Swallowing, Luce wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before her gaze fell on a simple box on Nell’s bookshelf. Luce moved towards it, apprehensive. Her fingers lifted the lid and inside were little trinkets-- magical in nature. Some of them familiar to her, others she didn’t know where Nell had even found them. But there it was. The necklace Nisa had enchanted all those years. Luce took the necklace from the box and closed the box before hurrying out the door. She didn’t want to stay in that room, didn’t want to see that place again. Not until Nell was back. Not until they were all safe.

“Hey. Found it.” Luce said as she held up the little silver charm necklace. “We might need to re-up the magic, but it should help. And hey. Might help with the tracking situation. She wore this all the time.”

Plans were beginning to race rapidly through Bea’s mind, wheels spinning so quickly that she was almost scared they’d burn out. “With that bone we could connect with her,” She mused, before grinning at Luce. “And with the necklace we’ll also be able to tell how close Adam is to her. He’ll be able to use the compass, hopefully, in the dimension to find her quickly.” With eyes brighter than they had been since Nell was gone, Bea looked between the two younger adults,“We have a plan now, a really good one, with three ways to track her. We’re going to get her back.” And the moment she got back, she was going to get the lecture of her fucking life. 

Adam nodded. “Hey...thanks both of you, like I know you’d do this for Nell anyway, but I still appreciate you folks having my back on this.” 

Luce leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Bea, determined, her old fire lit inside her with this new mission to get her sister back. Adam, weary in a way that no one should be at his age, but filled with the same resolve. And then there was her. She fell somewhere between the two of them-- somewhere between grim determination and optimism. They were going to bring Nell home, come hell or high water. Which, in this town? Either could happen. “Sounds like we’ve got a game plan then.” Luce said with a nod. “Of course, Adam. And… thanks for leading the charge here. We’re gonna bring her home.”

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 13

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns to be a person. And, amid all of that, confronts his past by helping others like him.

Content warnings: traumatised child, starvation (referenced), very brief hint of lifespan angst

Chapter summary: Caleb is good with kids. Clerics are good with Calebs.

Chapter notes: Chapter title is from An Act of Kindness by Bastille. Pardon the comma splice; it gave me a better vibe than anything else.

***

Chapter 13: Kindness is what you showed to me, it holds me 'til I ache

Much later, Caleb tucked Luc into bed. The boy had been dozing for some time now, and Caleb himself was exhausted. He and Essek retreated to the spare bedroom. The room wasn’t large, and therefore the bed took up most of the space, but it wasn’t the most cramped quarters the two of them had shared. It was warm, lived-in, and belonged to one of Caleb’s dearest friends in the world.

Caleb flung off his coat, tossing it onto the chair crammed in the corner of the bedroom. Essek hovered closer, deftly plucking the buttons of Caleb’s shirt until it opened. Essek kissed Caleb’s collarbone, and slid the shirt down his arms, tossing it onto the coat.

“Did I make you uncomfortable earlier?” Essek asked, slowly running his fingers across the reddish-brown hair on Caleb’s chest.

“No. I was surprised, is all.” And very tired, but he knew Essek was aware of that.

Essek kissed Caleb’s sternum, just below the meeting of his collar bones. “We can discuss this another time. I just want you to know I am not trying to… discard you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

They undressed. If they had been alone, they probably would have just collapsed naked on the bed, but there was a child in the house who had no boundaries, so they drew on the last dregs of their energy to pull on nightshirts and climb under the covers.

Essek wanted to be the big spoon tonight, and Caleb indulged him. It was adorable, really, given Essek was significantly smaller than him and wound up looking like a humanoid backpack. But the soft, warm pressure of Essek’s body was soothing as always, and Caleb drifted asleep.

For a while.

Then, there was a soft tapping on the door. And then the hinges creaked. Essek was already sitting up, so Caleb lay there a moment longer.

“Luc,” said Essek. “Are you all right?”

The boy didn’t speak, but he did sniffle. Caleb dragged his pants off the chair and stepped into them. Then, even in the dark, he found Luc’s small form and knelt before him.

“What happened, liebling?”

In the light from the moon, and the permanent driftglobe in the hallway Caleb had Pumat make for the Brenattos as a housewarming gift, he could see Luc swipe tears from his cheeks. Then he held up his arms in the universal signal for carry me.

Caleb scooped Luc into his arms and stood, settling the boy’s weight on his hip. Luc buried his face in Caleb’s shirt.

“Is there anything I can do?” Essek asked, halfway out of bed.

“Nein. I’ll step into the hallway. You rest.”

Essek huffed at him, but climbed back into bed. Caleb took Luc into the hallway and shut the bedroom door. Out here, it was easier to see the tension through Luc’s tiny body. He had Caleb’s shirt tightly gripped in his fists.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Caleb asked softly. Luc nodded. “All right. Would you like to talk about it?” Luc shook his head. “All right. I will hang onto you for a while, until you can sleep again. Does that sound good?” Luc nodded.

Caleb normally tried not to dwell too much on the memories of his childhood in Blumenthal, especially when he was out of sorts, but he could recall a conversation his mother had with a woman who had asked her advice on putting her newborn to sleep. He could hear his mother’s voice, sweet and gentle towards the woman who was on the verge of exhausted tears. Una had told her to hold the baby and walk up and down the house, slowly, until he fell asleep. It was not a sure thing, but it could help.

So Caleb slowly paced up and down the hallway, rubbing Luc’s back. He swayed a little as he walked, like his mother had once done for him. Even when he was just old enough to remember. Just a little younger than Luc was now, as Caleb had started to remember things very young. Not with the same clarity as he did as an adult, but more than most children at that age.

After some time of wearing a path into the wooden floor, Luc’s grip on his shirt loosened a little. The boy settled into Caleb’s arms more comfortably.

“Uncle Caleb?” His voice was still thick with years.

“Ja, liebling?”

“Can you tell me the story of the cat prince again?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb had the story memorised in Zemnian and Common by now. For a long time, he had only known it in Zemnian because of the nights his mother and father had read it to him, over and over. Since reading it to Jester, however, he could tell it in Common almost as well. And he had told it to Luc several times before.

He continued to slowly pace as he told the tale, quietly into Luc’s ear. Luc relaxed by inches. Yeza poked his head out of his bedroom door and watched quietly. They barely made it through the reveal of the cat in his crown of golden leaves, before Luc had relaxed fully, asleep against Caleb’s chest.

Yeza, who had been tense himself, also relaxed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Caleb smiled at him, not daring to speak lest he wake Luc. He slowly carried the boy to bed, tucking him in with a kiss on the forehead he decided to give at the last second. He crept out, closing the door. He and Yeza leaned their ears against the wood, listening for a moment. When it seemed that Luc was properly asleep, they stepped away.

“He’s been like this a lot,” Yeza whispered. “At first, when we were in the hideout, I thought he was gonna be okay. And he was for a while, until we came back home. Veth’s been good with him, but it’s wearing on her. On both of us.”

“These things often don’t hit right away,” Caleb replied quietly.

“Yeah, Veth said that, too.” Yeza sighed. “You’re good with him. Where’d you learn that?”

Caleb shrugged. “My mother, and I remember the things Veth has done to help me. I am not a little boy, but the principles are similar.”

“We need to have you over more often.” The exhaustion was all too evident in Yeza’s voice. “Your students will be lucky to have you.”

Caleb managed a smile through his own exhaustion, and that personal brand of self-loathing that rarely went away. “We will see. Gute nacht, Yeza.”

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

They separated. Caleb went back to the guest room, where Essek was sitting cross-legged on the bed in his trance. As soon as Caleb slipped under the covers, Essek shifted.

“Is everything all right?”

“Ja, Luc’s asleep.” Caleb buried his face in the pillow with a sigh.

“You are good with children. Have you ever considered…” Essek laughed softly. “Hm. I feel that is a loaded question, given our relationship.”

Caleb put the meaning together. “Ja, I don’t know. I used to see myself raising a family when I was younger, but… things got complicated. Maybe in time. For now, let’s see how I go as a teacher.”

Essek hummed softly, and did not continue the discussion. This required both of them to be more energised. Given the difference in their lifespans, and the fact Essek was a wanted criminal and Caleb a likely target for members of the Assembly looking to cover their tracks, it would not be an easy decision. It could wait. It needed to.

Caleb reached out blindly until he found Essek’s knee. “Cuddle me.”

Essek chuckled. “All right.” He lay down, manhandling Caleb until they were both in a more comfortable position, Essek’s head tucked under Caleb’s chin.

***

The morning was warm and bright, and Essek was soft in Caleb’s arms. Back home, Caleb would have held Essek close, slowly rubbing the heat of Essek’s back through his shirt until they were both too distracted to make it to breakfast. Here, however, he had to make do with several deep, promising kisses. And Essek grazing his collarbone with his teeth, one hand between Caleb’s thighs, until they both took a deep breath and, regrettably, stopped.

Maybe they would take the tower tonight, or a room at the Chateau. Veth would Send to them if she needed help with Luc. She had begged Essek to teach her so she could keep up the ruse that Yasha could communicate with her across distances. Caleb was fairly certain Yasha was fucking with her by this point, but he always enjoyed watching Essek teach.

Regretfully, Caleb forced himself out of bed and away from Essek’s wandering hands. He was definitely grumbling under his breath as he dressed, while Essek reclined in bed and watched with warm amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Caleb muttered, stumbling into his trousers.

“Caleb Widogast.” Essek smiled sweetly. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I am pretending I didn't hear that,” Caleb said weakly. Because he was this close to jumping back into bed with this man.

Essek took pity on him and climbed out of bed to dress, though the way he pressed up against Caleb’s back to kiss his neck was pure evil. Nevertheless, the two of them managed to get dressed and out of the bedroom without further incident.

Luc seemed more like himself at breakfast, fiddling with his crossbow once again. Veth kissed Caleb on the cheek in a silent thank you for the previous night. Essek, as usual, braided Caleb’s hair after breakfast.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Veth asked, as Yeza brushed her hair and braided it as well.

“My brother,” Essek said, with a professional tone that sometimes came out when he wasn’t prepared to express a particular emotion. He tied off one braid at the side of Caleb’s head, starting on the other side. “Verin was always a handful. I learned to fix the mess he made of his hair when he was off climbing trees or chasing animals, or people. It was important we both presented ourselves well, and that included grooming.” His fingernails lightly grazed Caleb’s scalp. “Verin… well. Someone had to fix his hair, preferably before our mother found out.”

There was something a little steely in Essek’s voice. A defense mechanism probably. Essek rarely spoke of his family, especially now that he probably wouldn’t see them again. Caleb got the impression Essek wouldn’t miss most of them, but he may have been closer to Verin.

Essek finished the second braid and pulled them into a half-ponytail at the back of Caleb’s head. He sighed, and ran his fingers through the rest of Caleb’s hair far longer than strictly necessary. Caleb caught his wrist and squeezed, just for a moment.

***

After breakfast, Caleb and Essek headed to the Chateau following a message from Caduceus requesting Caleb’s presence. Essek peeled off to trade novels with Marion, leaving the three of them alone in Jester’s childhood bedroom. Here, Caduceus and Jester had set up a scrying ritual. The materials were mostly floral in nature, indicating this was for Caduceus.

Caleb caught on immediately, though he didn’t get the words out before Jester shoved him onto her bed. Then, it was irrelevant, as Caduceus had already begun the ritual to scry on Nico. Caleb appreciated they had asked him to be here for it.

Jester sat with Caleb, nuzzling his shoulder and very nearly stabbing his eye out with her horns. And, of course, squeezing him so hard he was afraid of cracking a rib. It felt good, though. The anxiety coiling in his gut struggled to keep its foothold.

He had been afraid to ask Caduceus or Jester to scry on Nico again. What if the thing he feared most had come true? Nico’s fireball had knocked Caleb out cold. That really should not have been possible, even if Caleb had the constitution of wet tissue paper. He was still much tougher than he used to be.

Unlike Caleb, Nico didn’t have clerics on hand to pull him from the jaws of death. Nico could have curled up to sleep one night, out in the cold, and not had the strength to wake up again. Even when he hadn’t been injured, Caleb had come close to freezing to death many times in the years between Vergesson and Veth. The eleven years of no magic, and his long-discarded outright fear of fire, had almost spelled his doom.

Maybe Caleb’s messages never received a reply because the recipient was no longer alive. He was not experienced with the Sending spell; maybe he was misreading the lack of response. Maybe there was a pattern in the magic that should have told him whether the message met its mark. Caleb knew he was smart. He knew he was methodical. But he was also emotional. Maybe he had missed something.

Jester squeezed him tighter. He was spiralling. He had to breathe. He had to think. Panicking was of no use. If Nico was dead, they needed to find his body. It had only been a few days, and Caleb had created a new Transmuter’s Stone--focusing on that had helped steel his nerves these past few days. And he was sure Jester and Caduceus had the right quality of diamonds. Even if Nico was dead, he could still be saved.

And if he was alive, they needed to know. They needed to keep trying to talk to him, try to get him to safety in whatever way they could. And even though Caleb had never had a proper conversation with the boy, he knew he would do anything to keep him safe. Anything.

What Nico was going through now, Caleb had suffered alone. He would never wish that on anyone.

Being held by Jester always brought up complicated feelings, but he was grateful she was there to physically hold him together. She was babbling about something, and Caleb genuinely tried to listen, but most of his focus was split between his whirling thoughts and watching Caduceus.

He did catch the end of her babble.

“And then King said, ‘Were you gonna tell me I had magic blood or was I supposed to find that out when I cut myself shaving?’” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “He found out because he cut himself shaving.”

Caduceus jolted, and then he was back with them. “Nope.”

The words fell out of Caleb’s mouth before he had fully considered them. “Can you tell the difference between resisting the scry and…” His brain caught up with his mouth, and choked him.

Caduceus stepped in before Caleb could spiral further. “Yeah, we can tell the difference. He resisted.” Caduceus began to collect the flowers, bundled herbs, ashes, and bone fragments. A piece of petrified wood Caleb had found him during their travels. A few botanical drawings made by Jester. Fresh seaweed from Fjord. He carefully scooped up each piece of the ritual and put them away.

Okay. Nico was alive. That was something. But they couldn’t see him. He could have been anywhere within a few days of Rexxentrum, and each of those places was freezing cold. Nico had fire, but did he have the capacity to use it? Had he found shelter? Water? Where the fuck was he?

And it was possible to be alive and conscious and on death’s door. He wasn’t dead. Yet. That could change at any moment. Caleb needed to know. He couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

“Jester.” His voice was little more than a scratchy whisper. “Please.” Talking hurt.

She gave him one last squeeze and let go. “Of course, Cayleb. I’ll try. Caduceus gave me a picture.” She slid onto the floor and began to set out little dick statues. A tiny figurine of the Traveller. A little collection of unicorn statues, many of which were new to Caleb. “Hey, Artie. We really need to see what Nico’s doing, okay?”

Caleb no longer had Truesight, but Artagan never bothered to hide his presence in Sprinkle anymore. Or when his cloak would appear and sweep over Jester. He only hid from the Nein to fuck with them these days. So, the green flash of Sprinkle’s eyes and the sweep of a green cloak were a familiar sight by now.

Caduceus took Jester’s place on the bed beside him. Neither Caduceus nor Caleb were given to filling empty space with sound unless they genuinely had something to say, so they sat quietly. Shoulders barely touching, but that was enough of an anchor for Caleb to stay calm.

Time crawled by as Jester worked through the ritual, until, finally, she looked into the distance. And she wasn’t seeing the room. Hope bloomed, sharp and painful, in Caleb’s chest.

“I see him,” she said. “It’s hard to see anything else. I think I can see green but I can’t make out shapes. Nico’s sitting on… grass, I think? There’s a campfire. Bandages. He found bandages somewhere! He looks pale, but… focused. I think? He’s bandaging his arm.”

She spent the next ten minutes describing everything Nico did. Aside from bandaging, he spent most of the time staring into the campfire. He’d found a coat somewhere, but no shoes. Shivering a bit, but nothing that would indicate a threat of hypothermia. Best she could tell, he was surviving.

Until they could get him to come back, that would have to be enough.

Once Jester had finished scrying, she squeezed onto the bed on Caleb’s other side. “Are you okay, Caleb?”

“Ja.” Knowing Nico was more or less in one piece, and did not seem to be in immediate danger, had lifted a great weight from Caleb’s ribcage. “Thank you. I was afraid to ask. Caduceus, I hate to ask that you spend another spell, but...”

Caduceus waited patiently, smiling faintly as he often did. He would say yes. Caleb knew he would.

So, despite feeling weird about asking for things like this, he did anyway. “Would you mind asking the Wildmother a few questions?”

“Give me three questions and one minute,” was all Caduceus said in response.

Caleb had spent so long worrying about this kid that coming up with three questions was easy. “First, is he in the Pearlbow Wilderness? Second, has he found clean water in the last twenty-four hours? Third, has he eaten since Rexxentrum?”

Caduceus slid to the floor once again and began setting up the ritual. “Good questions to ask, with simple answers.”

The wait was easier this time, knowing that Nico wasn’t dead, or close to it. The burning incense curled through the air, reminding Caleb fondly of his time with Frumpkin. He hoped his little friend was having a good time, wherever he was.

“Is Nicolaus Baumann in the Pearlbow Wilderness?” Caduceus asked quietly, eyes closed. Caleb could not sense the Wildmother’s response, but Caduceus nodded to himself. “Has the boy found clean drinking water in the last twenty-four hours?” A moment, and Caduceus nodded again. “Has he eaten since the meal I fed him in Rexxentrum?” This moment stretched longer, and the corner of Cad’s mouth tightened. He released the ritual, blinking his eyes clear until he could focus on them. “Nico’s in the Pearlbow Wilderness and has found clean drinking water in the last day. He has not eaten since Rexxentrum.”

Caleb swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Caduceus.” Those words could not adequately express his gratitude; how much lighter he felt knowing that Nico was surviving. They could get him back to Rexxentrum. Caleb would keep talking to him, as would Felix. It was doable. “And, Jester. Thank you.”

The two clerics exchanged a look, laced with meaning that Caleb could not read. But he suspected they had discussed this whole thing in detail long before they had invited Caleb here. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to having friends who would literally team up to take care of him like that. It frightened him a little, but he knew the fear was irrational. They loved him as much as he loved them. Not always in the same way, especially when it came to Jester, but it was love all the same.

Then Jester’s mood shifted, and she was grinning. “Hey, Cay-leb.”

“...ja?”

“Did Essek bring his parasol?”

“Ja, of course. It’s Nicodranas.”

“Cool! I got you guys a huge beach umbrella. Meet us downstairs in an hour.” She kissed his cheek, and tore out of her room. “BEACH TRIP!!”

Caduceus chuckled softly, unfolding himself from the floor. “She has been planning this all day.”

“Ja, I figured.” Caleb had missed the beach. So different from his old life that it was easier to let go of things there. “Are you coming?”

Caduceus laughed openly at that. Of course he was coming. Nobody said no to Jester Lavorre.

This was probably the last time the two of them would be alone in a while. There were things Caleb wanted to say. Needed to.

“Caduceus,” said Caleb. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“Caleb.” Caduceus smiled, but he allowed the sadness of it to break through. “You were alone for a long time. So was I. So were… all of us. We’ve all grown together. And you… I always knew you were being shaped into something. What that something was… that was your choice. Reaching out to people who went through what you have, taking your pain and what you have learned to protect them from the worst of your experiences… that’s growth, Caleb. You’re healing. I’m proud of you. We all are.”

The words hit hard, drawing tears from the corners of Caleb’s eyes. But they were good tears. It felt like a poison was leaving his body.

“You helped,” Caleb said, standing to face Caduceus properly. “All of you. And I know I didn’t always listen to you, but I remember everything. Your words mean a lot to me. Thank you.” He felt a surge of affection and a sob escaped his throat. “Can I hug you?”

“Of course.”

It had never occurred to Caleb that firbolgs would give great hugs. They had giant heritage and were stronger than they looked. Caleb had come to prefer hugs that crushed his soul back into his body, so this was perfect. He let Caduceus squish him, tucking his face into the folds of his robe. Caduceus always smelled of herbs and earth. A grounding, calming scent to match a grounding, calming man.

Caduceus had been exactly what the Nein, and Caleb himself, had needed after they lost Molly. And he continued to fill that role, gladly, even when it caused him personal pain. Caleb loved him dearly.

They were still hugging when Jester came to grab a few things from her room, and she gladly jumped in, babbling about the beach trip and all the plans she had made for it.

Caleb breathed easier than he had in days.

[dickgrayson80sremixmp3]

batboys h.c. #1 - hair

dick

- dick uses custom shampoo and conditioner because he is a vain bitch who never grew out of his trust fund baby ways (i’m picturing like the function of one here purely bc that’s what i have #notanad)

- he enjoys choosing the different colours and experimenting with fragrances; currently he has pear and apple which he likes but his heart lies with vanilla milkshake (soft)

- he’s an early bird (ha) and always works out in the mornings so he showers and washes his hair then

- he finishes his showers with a blast of cold water (one of a few reasons his s/o refuses to share showers with him) - he claims it’s to wake him up but it’s really bc he heard it would make his hair shiny and dick is very willing to suffer for Beauty

- dick mastered the towel turban at a very young age

- but nowadays he has a special microfibre turban to reduce frizz

- picture dick grayson standing in his kitchen eating cereal and making a gross green smoothie wearing nothing but the tightest black boxers and a towel turban

- never say i don’t do anything for you

- when it comes to styling dick is all about volume

- when he takes his hair out of the turban he works a huge blob of mousse into it and then spends up to twenty minutes scrunching it until it looks perfectly tousled

- he likes to walk around while he does this so he has mirrors all over the apartment sure that’s the only reason

- he has a habit of running his hand through his hair though so however neatly styled it starts out it always becomes a messy heap within a couple of hours

- still v charming tho

jason

- jason is working his way down the curly hair aisle of his local beauty supply store. he picks up a different shampoo and conditioner set every time

- he’s friendly with the puerto rican women who own the store and sometimes asks them for advice

- they’ve recommended that he try a co-wash but he’s secretly worried it won’t be tough enough to clean blood and gotham harbour water out of his hair on a regular basis

- his actual routine is v basic though

- step 1: he showers when he comes in from patrol around 4/5am and washes his hair

- step 2: uses a ton of conditioner every time

- step 3: puts a towel over his pillowcase and goes the fuck to sleep

- naturally he wakes up with a mess

- drags himself to the bathroom sink, wets his hands, and rakes his fingers through his hair until his hair is at least more evenly distributed over his head

- it usually sorts itself out to some extent eventually and he spends so much time with a helmet on that he’s not too fussed about how it looks

- boom

- thatse it

- he does have a secret self care ritual - it’s not regular but every couple of weeks or so he covers his hair in a deep conditioning mask and tucks it into an old shower cap he found under the sink. next the face mask goes on, he gets a smoothie/glass of wine/elaborate cocktail depending on his mood, fluffy robe, and settles onto his sofa with a book for a couple hours

- he only does this when he’s sure to be alone and interrupting this ritual is liable to get you shot (ostensibly a warning shot but he’s not particular about where he aims said warning shot)

tim

- listen i love tim to death but the truth is he forgets to shower on an upsettingly regular basis and his hair gets greasy easily :(

- luckily all it usually takes is an ‘ew snape’ and he’s off to the bathroom at a light jog

- a freshly shampooed tim drake however is the most beautiful thing in the world

- somehow manages to have nineties boy floppy curtains in the year of our lord 2020 and not look like a prick

- this boy is a serial shampoo thief and it is not uncommon for him to walk into a room, someone to sniff the air, and promptly beat him up for hair product theft

- will he learn from this? absolutely not

- when his bangs get long enough he tucks them back behind his ears (it’s adorable)

- even more adorable is when his s/o starts leaving hair accessories lying about

- timothy drake-wayne sitting in the batcave looking sternly over his case notes with glittery butterfly clips holding his hair back

- he does not use a single styling product on his hair it just does that

- perfectly straight and shiny every time, no cowlicks, no frizz

- it’s infuriating

- after a disastrous experiment with bleach in his early teens tim resorted to a buzzcut rather than let it grow out

- the effect was,,,,interesting

- he’s constantly threatening to shave it again but everyone knows he won’t go through with it bc he heard a barista at his favourite coffee shop swooning over his hair once and now he brings it up every time someone criticises him

- ‘oh yeah well if i’m such a waste of space how come i have “““ the prettiest hair in the world ohmygod it looks so soft don’t you just wanna touch it”””, damian’

- no that’s not the reason it’s his favourite shop what are you talking about

duke

- used to have it all figured out but a recent change in career path has left him high and dry

- before becoming the signal duke’s hair was the best on his street - he favoured twist braids but he was considering locs

- wearing a helmet has kinda limited his options, so his hair is in cornrows for now to make sure his helmet fits properly but he’s not mad keen and he’s trying to figure out how to broach the subject with his barber without compromising his secret identity

- speaking of his barber there’s only one guy at one shop who duke trusts with his fade

- the shop is in south gotham

- as in the other goddamn end of the city

- it’s a fuck ass long drive from the manor

- every time he goes he looks wistfully at his old street as they pass (a fifteen minute walk from his shop)

- his stash of products at the manor are the only ones safe from tim

- it’s not that tim respected his boundaries or anything but the one time he used one of duke’s deep conditioners without checking he came out of the shower with oilier hair than he went in

- duke brought his own satin pillowcases to the manor bc he guessed (correctly) that bruce would never think of it

- they make jason snigger bc he thinks it’s like a sexy thing (ooOOoo SiLk ShEeTs)

- duke just looks over jason’s hair with a judgemental stare and tells him maybe his curl definition wouldn’t be so poor if he got satin pillowcases of his own

- (dick and tim: OOOOOOOOO)

- ((roy, somewhere in star city: OOOOO, artemis: wtf are you doing ? roy: didn’t you feel it? the burn?))

- this one got out of hand rip

damian

- when he was with his mother and the league he never concerned himself with the toiletries provided for him he just used them

- it’s only when he comes to america and is presented with fake apple scented goo that he misses what he had

- the issue is that he doesn’t even know how to start looking for his old products, and it’s not like he can just call talia up and ask her which shampoo she used on him as a child

- he does consider it though

- mostly he just sulks until dick takes pity and tries to help him figure it out

- it is not successful and damian is now somehow mad ???

- as a distraction and filled with regret dick buys him a shampoo bar, the decision primarily based on proximity and novelty value - he hopes the time it takes damian to figure it out will give him time to get away

- this is more like it - damian appreciates the more sophisticated sandalwood scent and also its environmental credentials

- the downside to the bar is that it’s somewhat drying

- damian solves this issue with the only product he can remember his mother using - moroccan argan oil

- as a result his hair is now smooth, shiny, and ethical as fuck

- it also smells nice, which is the only thing tim can think of while damian is furiously challenging him to a duel, the top of his head directly under tim’s nose

- as a young ‘un damian likes to gel his hair into a part swoopy, part spiked quiff, which both highlights the thickness and lustre of his hair and also adds a crucial few inches to his height

- as an adult though just keeping it swept back neatly away from his face is enough

(a/n i rlly wanted to include duke in these headcanons bc he gets left out a lot but idk much about afro hair so if any obvious mistakes jump out to anyone drop me an ask and i’ll edit!! will also be uploading a batgals post next)

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART III

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Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Flirting, cussing, mentions of sexual frustration, overalls nothing bad.

Word Count: 3,446

A/N: Longer chapter, I'm hoping to make the rest of the chapters this long. Sorry if this one isn’t the best, I'm not feeling too well lately… but anyways I had fun writing this one. I’m excited for the party chapter!

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

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To say the end of the tour was awkward, would be an understatement. You didn’t know who that woman was, and you didn’t have any right to ask. But one thing was clear, she came to show that aizawa was her marked territory. Did things seem weird between them? Yes, but you’ve heard of the big threes many affairs and mistresses so it wouldn’t surprise you if she was one of them, maybe Aizawa’s favorite mistress. It was stupid that your heart even ached slightly at that thought when you’d just met the man.

“Ah, so how was the tour you two?” You didn’t realize you were back in front of Aizawa’s office until Hitoshi had spoken, looking up as you met his purple eyes that matched his lazy smirk. “So how do you like your new place of work beautiful? Is it everything you hoped it to be?” He mused, his hand reaching your hair and twirling a piece, making you blush and your mouth run dry as an angry king stood next to the both of you, glaring at his right hand man.

“Ahem. Hitoshi this is a place of business, not romance. Keep your hands to yourself will you?” The man's monotone voice was laced with jealousy, making Hitoshi’s grin wider, “I never hear you say that when Emi is in your office…” It was that woman’s name again… so they are a thing, looking away, you avoided the gazes of the men not realizing they both had challenging glares directed at each other. “Anyways, me and Y/N have some paperwork to fill out, but thank you for taking her on the tour aizawa.”

Before either you or Aizawa could argue, Hitoshi fizzed You away to his office and he dragged his feet to the couch and flopped down, a relaxing groan releasing from his mouth. “You can relax Y/N. I can tell we are gonna be great friends in the future…” Hitoshi’s voice was smug that matched his knowing smirk, eyes closing. “Now, I'm taking a nap, do as you please.”

*•*

This day was interesting so far, and it was only lunch. You had long left the purple haired man's office and figured it wouldn’t be bad to walk around, start to remember your way better. The only time you stopped was when you heard your stomach growl, your lips pursing as you sighed, “fuck… where was the café?” You started scrambling around, not knowing where to go, slightly freaking out.

“Yo! You lost pretty lady?!” A loud voice called out to you, making you whip around as you blushed and focused on the blonde haired man. “Uh, Yeah… I’m kinda new around here and I just want to find a place to eat.” The lanky Male came up to you and threw his arm over your shoulder, obviously not afraid of boundaries. “Well never fair, since your golden Olympian Male is here!” Suddenly it clicked and your eyes went wide, this must be the one they call Apollo…

Nodding you laughed it off, he sure does love himself doesn't he? “May I ask what you are doing here in the underworld? You are an Olympian that has nothing to do with the underworld.” The golden haired man laughed, a smile on his face. “Right you are gorgeous, but it so happens that me and the king himself are best friends! We are practically brothers!” Aizawa… and this man… practically brothers? You couldn’t believe it.

“Hizashi What did I tell you about coming here unannounced?” A familiar deep voice boomed through the space, making you blush and the man beside you smile brighter than before. Turning around faster than you can blink, he opened his arms for aizawa, “Aizawa! You know that if I call you’d say no, plus you love my company, admit it!” A giggle passed your lips as you looked at them, they completely contrasted one another and even thinking about their dynamic made you smile.

Aizawa’s eyes landed on you in shock and Hizashi turned to face you, “By the way Shouta, how come you didn’t tell me you hired someone as pretty as this one! I'd pay her to just take a drive-” Hizashi couldn't even finish the sentence when he shuddered by Aizawa’s cold and deadly stare. You didn’t even see it since you looked at the ground trying to hide your flustering face, moving a stray hair behind your ear, you smiled. “Well- thank you very much for your compliment…”

Your voice had Aizawa staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he clenched his jaw and looked away. Of course you’d have every god pining after you, why would he think he’d even have a small chance? The desperate stare did not go unnoticed by Hizashi and the wheels started turning in his head, a devious little smile on his face, “You know, I’m throwing a party tomorrow, you should come and get to know the rest of the gods.”

Nodding, a smile made its way onto your face. “Really? I’ve never been invited to anything like that before… thank you. I’m Y/N, I forgot to introduce myself.” A shy blush spread on your cheeks as aizawa could feel anger bubbling in him, he was never one for parties, but now he was… Hizashi smiled at you, ruffling your hair, “It’s gonna be fun. I’m sure everyone will love you, especially if Aizawa here seems to like your presence too.”

Head tilting with confused eyes, you didn’t understand. The king had just been showing you his grace since you were a new employee… right? Aizawa was practically glowing red before he dragged a laughing Hizashi off, “See y’a tomorrow Y/N!!” You waved him goodbye with a smile, still lost on where to eat…

*•*

As fast as the day came, it went. Going home, Izuku filled the air by asking you questions nonstop, but of course you answered everyone. The only thing on your mind however, was the party you were invited to. “Father, what’s your opinion on Hizashi?” Your voice was quiet but the question was loud as Izuku stopped in his tracks to eye you up and down with careful eyes, almost trying to check if you were harmed in any way shape or form.

“Did he hurt you? How do you know him? What happened, and you better tell me everything” His worried questions made you laugh as you stopped and smiled, “Nothing happened, I was just invited to his party tomorrow and I wanted to know your opinion on him.” You simply shrugged, making the green haired man sigh in relief before he took in your words and went wide eyed. “Party?!! Tomorrow!? Invited?!”

Honestly, Izuku was finding it hard to breathe as he clutched his chest. His reaction made you laugh as you hugged the man that swore to protect you with his life. “Father- calm down! We only met because I walked around by myself to get a feel of the place… it’s no big deal, I thought he was very nice.” The shrug of your shoulders matched your nonchalant tone, making Izuku feel many things. “Y/N, promise me that you’ll be safe, please.”

Nodding you looked at your father as you stepped into your house, “Does this mean I can go?” Izuku smiled with a sigh, “I can’t really stop you since you’re an adult… I just know that you are my stars and your mother is my moon. Without either of you I am nothing.” You smiled softly as you kissed your father's cheek, nodding and going to the kitchen, Uraraka already there making tea. “Hi momma, how was your day?” You greeted your mother with a kiss on the cheek and she smiled softly, looking at you with bright eyes.

“My little star! How was your first day? I hope Aizawa was kind…” Just the mention of his name made you blush as you looked away with a shy smile. “The king was very kind… but I’m sure it was just because I’m new.” As you ended your sentence you chuckled, making your mother smile. “Oh really? Well I’m glad to hear you had a nice time”

(E/C) eyes going wide, your cheeks heated up, “Mother! It wasn’t like that!! I swear… anyways I was invited to Hizashi’s party tomorrow” Your news made Uraraka smirk as she turned to you and handed you a glass of tea “Oh? I’m sure your father wasn’t happy about that…” The grin that made its way onto your face confirmed her answer, “He May not have been, but I still can go.” Nodding, Uraraka took a sip of her drink and looked at you with a sly smile, “Well I guess we should go shopping before then huh?”

*•*

The next day

As you walked into work, you couldn’t help but recheck your attire every minute. Why did you want to look so good? It wouldn’t matter in the long run… he wouldn’t see you in the same way. Groaning you rubbed your face as you walked through the menacing doors. You can do this, all you have to do is keep the souls in check… and not fall in love.

“You look troubled chickadee, something I can help you with?” An arm wrapped around you as you looked to your side to be met with familiar golden eyes, “I’m just- nervous for my first real day of work…” Keigo laughed as he smirked at you, “Awh, don’t be worried… if you want we can have lunch together” A devilish wink was sent your way making you blush, “Y-you don’t have too..” Keigo laughed, ruffling your hair as he tsked playfully.

“Psh, I want too. Plus I heard that you’re going to Hizashi’s party tonight… guess I’ll be seeing you there chickadee.” Keigo lowered his head to whisper in your hair and you squeaked and chuckled, looking at him with questioning eyes. “Are you flirting with me?” your voice came out shakey as you played with your fingers, Keigo laughed and poked your nose. “I can admit that I am since your father ain’t here…”

“Well quit it, Keigo. You wasting time makes me wonder why I pay you.” A deep voice interrupted your interaction and you snapped your eyes to meet glowing red ones, an automatic shiver going down your spine as you stared with parted lips. You have never been more turned on than seeing Aizawa look like this. Keigo rolled his eyes and took a step away from you, looking at Aizawa with an unamused look. “I just clocked in, get off my ass and get the stick out of yours.”

The statement only made Aizawa angrier as he tsked, but before he did anything, his eyes glanced at you and he calmed down. Taking a deep breath in, he glared at the red winged god, “You have 3 seconds to leave before I rip your wings out of your back.” Keigo held his glare for as long as he could before turning to you and winking, flying off. You turned to aizawa and gulped, feeling horrible that you were wasting company time. “I’m sorry about that, I’ll get to work right away… I don’t want to waste anymore time”

Aizawa’s eyes softened looking at you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and he sighed as he gulped, “Don’t apologize little goddess… Keigo was acting wrongly, he should be apologizing.” His words, his touch, gods his everything made you want to melt as butterflies soared in your stomach. Nodding you met his eyes and smiled softly, “I-I wanted to ask yesterday, but I didn’t get the chance… are you going to Hizashi’s party?” Biting your plump lip, (e/c) doe eyes met Aizawa and the god cursed under his breath as he forced himself to look away.

“Ahem- I- yes. I’ll be there.” Why did he say he was going? Simple; you asked and you were also going. Stupid Aizawa… stupid stupid Aizawa. As he raked your face to see any type of reaction, he couldn’t place just one emotion as you slightly blushed and smiled big, nodding as you had bright eyes that looked at him. “Good… I'm glad you’re going to be there” The shock that ran through the raven haired man's body was evident as he sucked in a breath, looking at you to say you were kidding, but you never did.

“W-well… I’ll see you tonight Aizawa.” The distance you were creating caught his attention and he once again reached for you with wide eyes, “Shouta… you can call me shouta.” Shouta… his name alone was gorgeous. You nodded and moved your hand into his, giving it a friendly squeeze, “okay… shouta.” Finally You left to go where you were needed, leaving a speechless king in your wake, this wasn’t Nemuri, or her son Denki. This was him, his heart, fucking with him.

*•*

As you walked to lunch, you couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that the god you were eating with had golden locks and not black. Of course you knew that your parents fell in love within two days and got married on the third, that’s a common thing with gods and goddesses. But the thought alone scared you, how could you fall for someone you didn’t even know? Maybe your friend Denki was pulling a prank on you… he always did say that you needed to get laid so he wouldn’t have to smell your sexual frustration no matter how far away he was…

A groan left your lips as you went and grabbed some food from a restaurant in the food court, sitting down at the table that had the winged god, and the purple haired one…. along with the ash blonde? What the hell? “Am I interrupting something?” You regretted even speaking because all attention was immediately turned to you, making you look away nervously. “I see you finally made it chickadee… I’m sorry about these two, who rudely invited themselves.” Golden eyes glared at the other two men when Keigo finished talking, making you even more confused.

“Listen gorgeous, I just figured you wouldn’t want to be alone with chicken boy here for an hour alone, so I decided to be your Prince Charming” Hitoshi decided to speak as he smirked at you, leaning casually on his palm, eyes raking your body. Katsuki let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes, “Dumbasses. Both of you.” Hitoshi’s smirk turned devilish as he turned to Katsuki, “Oh? Then enlighten us on why you’re here…” Katsuki clenched his jaw as he huffed and glared at Hitoshi, “I- just figured I’d get to know Y/N… it’s the smart thing to do since she could get in the way with my work.”

Tilting your head, you looked at all of them like they were crazy. That was until a cute little blonde came up, giggling with mischief as she latched her arm with yours and tilted her head at the boys. “They’re trying to court you… isn’t it adorable! Could you imagine all of them doing your dirty work as you just relaxed? I wish I would get courted like this…” The blonde sighed and sat down, resting her head on her palms with a pout and you smiled at her, while Katsuki pushed her off a seat in disgust.

“We didn’t sit here for you to come and sit with us, Toga. So find somewhere else. Or someone else to bother.” His words were harsh as she pouted and you slightly pouted too, already liking her. “Well… since I don’t want to be courted, I’d much rather sit with Toga… shall we?” You smiled at the goddess and she giggled with glee and yanked on your hand, dragging you away, leaving furious gods in your wake. Both you laughed as you went and sat down, Toga somehow got a milkshake and was sipping on it as she looked at you with a devious look.

“So, new blood… what’s it like to have gods falling at your feet? I’m sure if you stubbed your toe, they’d all come crawling with gifts and first aid kits.” Her words made you blush as you stared at your food, “I didn’t even realize until you just told me… why would they want me? I’m just an immature goddess.” Toga laughed and poked your nose, “Thats why, because you don’t know anything about them, yet. You’re trusting, and they can practically smell that. Trust me when I say none of these gods are up to no good.” Oh how she sounded like your father… but maybe it’s because your father was right, and so was she.

“Maybe… anyway, I don’t mean to sound rude but you’re a goddess aren’t you? What do you do around here?” You were curious to know what she did because you’ve only seen Gods here, no goddesses. “You might know by the name Styx, which the mortals really did give me a delicious name didn’t they?” Your eyes went wide in realisation as you blushed, “oh my gods! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! I’m so sorry” Toga giggled as she smiled at you, leaning on her palms.

“Eh don’t worry about it new blood… you can owe me back by telling me why you aren’t interested in being courted.” Her bluntness made you blush as you played with your food, “Well… I just- I’d want to be pursued by the right man.. not just any guy, you know? If I find the right guy, I’d welcome it” Toga didn’t talk for a couple seconds as she took in the sight of you, before her face lit up in a teasing grin. “You already found someone didn’t you- AND he works here, doesn’t he?!” She gasped, bringing her hands to her face as you hid your own.

“Please, drop it… I don’t want- I don’t know what I want!” Toga laughed as she leaned onto the table, continuing to read you. Like how your eyes would blink and try to avoid looking at a place for too long, and how your body seemed extremely relaxed in the moment, despite the conversation. She knew, of course she knew. Toga could figure these things out easily, and the flint in her eyes gave it away she knew as she grabbed your cheeks and pulled you closer. “You like them powerful, don't you? That’s okay, if I was you I would too.”

You choked on your food as you looked her in her eyes sighing, “Please it’s really nothing, just don’t say anything… okay?” Toga giggled before nodding, “Okay, but you’re no fun new blood! Just be glad I like you.” Nodding, You pouted and looked at the time, “I’m going to a party tonight that he’ll be at… do you want to come with me?” Toga practically lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded and stood up, “Yes! Oh this will be so much fun! I’ll be your wing woman and we will get you any guy you want!” Once again you blushed as you looked away, feeling your heartbeat in your chest.

“I don’t want just any guy…” you sighed out, leaning your head on the table. Toga stared at you and she already knew what she was going to do tonight before she faked a pout on her own face and pat your head, “Don’t worry Y/N…. If it’s meant to be then the fates will make sure it happens. Anyway, what’s the harm in a little fun? You are young…” Shrugging, you looked away and thought for a second. “Maybe you’re right… maybe I should let loose tonight. Then finally I won’t have to feel like this cause it’s weird.” Toga hid her grin and nodded, “Oh, trust me new blood, you’ll have a blast tonight.”

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Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @a-match-into-themoon @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @leeeah-loooser @vinaios

[captainscanadian]

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Epilogue 2)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: You did good. No, you did better than good.

Word Count: 2505

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Portia Barnes, Grant Barnes, Sarah Rogers

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Death

A/N: This is it. This is the end of an era. This is the end of me writing Better. I cannot believe I actually managed to finish a fic. Most importantly, I cannot believe so many of you have taken your time to read this and to love this story and Better!Bucky as much as I do. From the bottom of my heart, I would like to thank you all. I am forever grateful for every single one of you. This one’s dedicated to @dramadreamer14​ because after the torture that I put her through, she needs this domestic, fluffy, “growing old together” kind of wrap-up for this fic. Pic’s not mine, credit to the owners!

20 years later...

New Hope, Pennsylvania was a quiet little town. No one ever knew that it had even existed. Even Bucky had only come to know of this small town until he had met you. Over the years, you had not questioned why your husband had been sending money orders to your hometown every single month. You knew the answer to that. But you also knew that a few years into your marriage, the payments had stopped. Bucky had not mentioned it to you, but you knew that they had stopped. You did not live under the biggest rock on earth for crying out loud.

When you had asked Bucky about it though, he did not try to hide it from you. He did not lie to your face in the name of wanting to protect you, even if he knew how much pain was behind the answer to your query. Your biological parents had tragically passed away after your childhood home had caught fire and burnt down. A kitchen fire, apparently. It had spread so quickly by the time one of the neighbors had found out and managed to call the fire department, that your parents could not be saved.

Bucky had believed that you had every right to grieve your parents, to feel completely free from them now that they were really gone for good. A fire accident in your childhood home, he had told you. Neither of them survived. As it turned out, your mother had left a will before her death, stating that whatever the remaining amount of money she had left in her bank account should go to the science teacher at your school. After all, she had signed a contract saying that she would cut all ties with you. Of course, she was not going to leave you that money. But it seemed as though, after all these years of never being able to be on the same page, your mother did understand you at some point. She knew that you owed your old teacher so much for that one night of shelter and your mother also owed her that much for ensuring that her only child had not frozen to death. And that was the end of that.

Portia Natalia Barnes never got to know her maternal grandparents, but she knew from a very young age that her mother had not been as lucky as she had been when it came to being the recipient of unconditional parental love. You and Bucky had made sure to let both of your children know that they were loved from the day they were born. You never took them or the responsibility that you had taken on as being their parents for granted. You were honest with them, allowing them to understand that their parents were not perfect. But they were human beings with their own flaws, who thrived to be better. You had given them the space and the openness to be honest with you too. If they ever felt like your parenting was unfair to them, they would tell you. You communicated with them to make sure that they understood the boundaries that you had set for them as their parents and they felt understood as well. You were much better parents that the ones you had.

As the years rolled on, Portia had left your nest to go off to Harvard. Having inherited her father photographic memory, she had been quite a smart kid. When it came to her going to college, she had managed to grab an acceptance to multiple Ivy League schools. Her father had taken it personally that she had chosen Harvard over Columbia, his own alma mater. But truth be told, Bucky was simply not willing to see his little girl go off to live on her own. He had been a very protective father.

While your daughter was attending university in Boston, your son was freaking out over the football tryouts at his high school. While neither you nor your husband was athletically talented, it seemed as though Grant had taken a particular liking to playing sport. Now a senior in high school, he was well under way of getting a football scholarship. Both of your children were doing well for themselves and you could not be any prouder.

And as for you and your James, the two of you had resigned from the hospital when your children were starting school. The two of you had agreed that the unpredictable work schedule that came with working at the hospital was not ideal when you wanted to be raising two children. Bucky had admitted that he wanted to be more present in their lives. As much as he had been raised by a nanny, he was against the idea of you hiring one.

But the time had been right, for Bucky’s friend T’Challa, who had taken over your in-laws’ private practice from them had sold it back to the two of you before moving back to Africa. You and James began working together as partners, dictating your own work hours to accommodate your school runs and running your own clinic at the shelter. The two of you had really built yourselves a life together, just for the two of you.

Of course, this did not mean that you did not get to see your friends at all. Every weekend and the holidays were spent in each other’s company, no matter how far away from each other your lives had taken you all. Even if you all had your own families now, you still made time for each other. In the end, you were all each other’s families and that was never going to change all that easily.

“Mooooom!” Your son whined as he made his way down the stairs, his feet stomping across the hardwood floor with every step he took until he reached the kitchen. For a seventeen year old, he was quite broad and tall. He sure had the built for a football player, towering over your height too. According to your mother-in-law, he certainly took on after his father. But you would not say that he only took on Bucky’s appearance; he had his father’s heart too. “Mom, Portia says she needs the car tomorrow but I’ve got practice. Can you please remind her that she doesn’t live here anymore and the car’s mine now?”

You let out a sigh as you finished chopping up the vegetables, discarding the scraps in the compost bin before walking over to the stove to check on the pasta.

“I told you. I’ll even drop you off and pick you up, you punk.” Your daughter’s voice echoed through the hallway as she followed after her brother. “Mom, I’m just meeting up with my friend for coffee. We have our project due after spring break and we were going to be working on it together.”

“It’s spring break. Why aren’t you taking a road trip to Canada and getting pissed drunk or something like a proper college kid?”

“It’s spring break. Why do you have practice, huh?” She asked her brother.

You turned off the stove before turning around to face your children, letting out a sigh of disbelief. “Have you two seriously forgotten what day it is?” You asked them as you crossed your arms against your chest.

They both looked at each other for a moment before their eyes grew wide in realization of what day it was.

“Oh shit-” Portia quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry, mom! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to forget, I... I’ll text my friend right now and cancel our study session. I promise, I’m not leaving the house for the whole day.”

“Sorry, mom...” Grant frowned as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the coach and telling him that I can’t make it. Family comes first.”

“As much as I’m a little disappointed that the two of you forgot your father’s birthday, I’m glad that you two are at least fighting about study sessions and football practice.” You admitted, chuckling softly. “Help me finish up with dinner and set the table? Dad will be home soon and it’s been a while since we’ve had a family meal with all four of us.”

“Of course.” Your daughter smiled as she walked around the kitchen counter to wash her hands. “I’ll roast the vegetables.”

“I’ll drain the pasta.”

“And I’ll finish up the sauce!” You announced and the three of you worked together to finish cooking before your husband got home.

Dr. James Barnes was a lucky man. At sixty years of age, he was happily married to his wife of twenty-two years. With a successful private practice and a part-time position teaching anatomy at Columbia Medical School, he had learned to keep himself busy with work while still managing to have a family of his own. He had two wonderful children who loved him dearly and were well onto becoming responsible adults. He was not worried about their future; they were good kids.

His goddaughter on the other hand though, he was worried about her for sure. “Sarah, I’m telling you. Being my little niece does not mean that you’re going to get special treatment in my class.” With an eye roll, Bucky made his way upstairs right after he entered his home.

“But that doesn’t give you any reason to be twice as hard on me, Dr. Barnes.” She told him sternly as she watched him ascend up the stairs. She walked into the dining room, her expression a little softer as she greeted you. “Hey, Aunty Y/N.”

“Hey, sweetheart... will you be joining us for dinner this evening?” You asked your beloved niece as you finished setting the table. Just as you had been a regular visitor of the Rogers-Carter household when you had first started working with Steve and Peggy, Sarah was a frequent dinner guest as your house as well.

“Do I have a choice? I have an anatomy quiz after the break that I’m supposed to study for and my professor’s a jerk. Uncle Bucky... offered to help me study tonight.” Sarah Rogers, in the way she carried herself and spoke her mind, was her mother’s daughter. But when it came to her constant banter with Bucky, she was all Steve. “I’m telling you. If I end up dropping out of med school, it was your husband’s fault.”

“This... is exactly why I went off to Harvard.” Portia pointed out as she walked over to Sarah and pulled her into a hug. “Cheer up, Rogers.”

“Wait, I thought Uncle Bucky is your professor...”

The girls turned around to give Grant a look of disbelief.

You gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s finish setting the table, baby.”

Your husband made his way downstairs after freshening up, having changed into a pair of sweatpants and a Henley. Even after years, he still liked to separate his personal and professional lives with how he dressed. When the two of you were home, you rarely spoke of work. Your children had always been your priorities.

James’ hair had a hint of grey now. But that only made him look much more attractive to you. The years had been kind to the two of you, despite a few wrinkles here and there. Your physical appearance did not matter much to you though, for your hearts were still the same? You loved each other just as much as you did that night in your hospital room and that was never going to change.

After a long-awaited family meal, the children got busy with doing the dishes while you found yourself heading up to your room for a quick shower. By the time you had changed into a pair of pyjamas and made your way downstairs, you found Sarah and Portia huddled on the living room floor with their textbooks laying wide open around them. Grant had followed their example and grabbed himself a book to read while he laid on the couch – The Merchant of Venice, which was apparently now being taught in his high school English class. He really was his father’s son.

Bucky sat in his study, reading through his emails. As you knocked on the door and poked your head through, he looked up at you with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors at this time, doll. But I’ll take it.”

You walked into the room, making sure to close the door around you. “So, this is where you spend all of your free time after... a hard day’s work and a good family meal.” You told him with a wink.

He chuckled softly as he stood up from his seat. “Well, I do think that there’s a lot more value to my time if it’s spent in the presence of my wife.” There was a teasing tone in his voice and you knew that he had caught on.

“Hm... flattery will get you everywhere, Dr. Barnes.” You giggled as you walked up to him, leaving up to quickly peck his lips. You were cautious, for you did not want the children to see you like this. “A wise man once told me that I was capable of being so much better than what life had to offer me. Happy birthday to him, I guess.”

“I think there’s still a few hours until midnight.” He said, his eyes darting to the wall clock behind you.

You reached into the pockets of your robe and pulled out an envelope. “I just thought I might give you your present a little earlier...”

“What’s this?” Bucky asked you as he took the envelope, his eyebrow raised at you as he stepped back to retrieve the letter opener from his desk. He carefully tore through the envelope before retrieving the tickets to your romantic vacation destination.

You watched as he looked down at the tickets. “A wise man also told me that if I really wanted to live like I’m in the Merchant of Venice, all I had to do was hop on a plane.”

He turned around to give you a cheeky grin. “A romantic getaway to Venice? Really, doll?”

“I think we both need one, don’t you think? Now that Portia’s out of the house and Grant will be moving out soon.” You shrugged. “We can just travel the world like free birds, just you and me.”

“I think I’d like that.” He agreed as he walked back to you and kissed you softly.

You giggled as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you took in his scent. “We did good, James...” You admitted, laying your head against his shoulder and shutting you eyes for a moment. You wanted to savor this, for every single intimate the two of you shared was precious. You still saw it as a blessing, having a wonderful husband like him and beautiful children.

“No, I think we did better, Y/N.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 48

Warnings: angst

Tags: @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

An incessant knock at the door rouses her from her sleep, and she groans in protests as she rolls over onto her back and stares up at the cove ceiling. She's unsure of how much time has passed since Tyler left to attend to the drama with McMann, but the sun has changed positions and is now at full force as it streams through the window and onto the bed.  She presses the heels of her palms on her eyes in an attempt to both clear the sleep out of them and rid her brain of some of the lingering fogginess. Hoping that if she stays as motionless and as silent as possible, whoever is trying to contact her will just go away.  She's exhausted;  a fatigue that she's come to recognize as a late first trimester side effect. With each of her pregnancies it had set in at the same; somewhere between the middle and the end of the second month.  She does the math in her head; figuring out the exact dates that conception was the most possible. He'd just gotten back from El Salvador; a simple (for once) in and out assassination of a known human trafficker.  Sarge had picked the kids for a rare weekend at his and grandma's house, and he'd given her a wink as he'd teased her about being able to spend 'noisy adult time' with her frequently absent husband.   Which they'd managed plenty of; wild and uninhibited, intense and passionate, often rough. And it was the first time in a long  time she had actually been make the noises that she'd gotten so used to hiding behind her hand or a pillow.    

Condoms had become their go to for protection after Declan had been conceived when she was on the pill. And seeing as neither of them at the time had been one hundred sold on whether to have more children, that ruled out getting her tubes or a vasectomy for him, so something had to be used.  So she thought they'd been careful.

Apparently not careful enough.

She places both hands on her stomach; still flat for now (aside from the baby weight she hasn't managed to lose since having Declan), but if her intuition, calculations, and pregnancy history were correct, she'd be just beginning to show around the beginning of the fifth month.  It wouldn't be much; just a little bump that would be visible underneath tight fitting clothes.  But it would seem much more real than it did right now; when all she had to show for growing a life inside of her was fatigue and horrible all day sickness.  It was something she always marvelled at; the changes in her body as the weeks and months progressed, the way her hips and her breasts would fill out, the way her hair would become thicker and more vibrant, the way her skin seemed to glow. And it was always magical, no matter how many times she carried a life inside of her, to feel that little person moving around. The kicking and the squirming, the way -in the last trimester- you could sometimes see the entire outline of a hand or a foot when room was starting to run out and they had no more vacant space to move into.  And above everything, she couldn't get enough of the way her husband 'softened' over the last three months; the way that big strong man would lie in bed at night with those calloused and battered hands resting on her belly, the most gentle smile curving his lips and the utmost excitement in his eyes every time the baby kicked or seemed to respond to his voice.

And she smiles as she thinks of those times past and those moments still to come.  When they'd be in the comfort and security of their own home, back under the same roof as their children, finally able to relax and enjoy the new life that they'd be bringing into this world. Things would be different this time; he'd be around for the majority of the pregnancy, able to attend more appointments and ultrasounds, no going out of the country for extended periods of time, no worry every time the phone rang that he'd run off and put himself in danger.  

The knocking has ceased, and she once again closes her eyes, hands still on her stomach, attempting to fall back asleep once more. Sleep gave her the opportunity not to worry about him. The only time where she isn't stressed out and her mind is imagining all the worst case scenarios.  And she feels as if she's just on the brink of sleep when she hears the faint scratching of a key card being slid through the security slot, followed by the click as the system unlocks the door. She quickly jumps off the bed, feeling temporarily dizzy as she scurries through the door; she'd put the chain lock and the deadbolt in place, exactly as he'd instructed her to do if he ever left her alone.

“Wait...wait...” she implores, and hurriedly draws back the chain and snaps open the bolt. “...usually you call when you're on your back so I know to unlock everything, why...”

She stops mid sentence when she comes face to face with Nik.  The other woman's lips set in a grim line, dark eyes troubled, And immediately thinks the worst. All those times she's spent imaging that knock on the door; how Nik would be standing there with that exact same expression, preparing to give her devastating news.

“What happened?” she can't help the panic that settles into her voice. “Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's not...”

“Tyler's fine,” Nik assures her, yet her expression doesn't change. “I'm here to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About Tyler.”

Esme frowns. “Look, if you're here to tell me you've been fucking him and he's leaving me for you, I'll kill both of you. Just saying.”

“He would never do anything like that to you and you know. Can I come in? This is a conversation we need to have behind closed doors. This isn't something you want your neighbours hearing.”

She senses the dire importance in the other woman's voice, and then steps back and holds the door open, motioning for her to step into the room.  Closing the door, she resets the chain and the deadbolt. Just in case.

“I heard the good news,” Nik says, as she surveys the room, hands on her slender hips, expression still cold and unnerving. “About the baby.”

“You talked to Tyler?”

“A little while ago.  I ran into him. Where they're holding Michael McMann.”

“Yeah, he left a while ago.  I guess Mark and his guys were having some issues with McMann and Tyler's the one that puts the  most fear into him. Why were you there? Just checking up on things?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Nik, what's going on? You seem...I don't know...pissed.”

“I'm just a little upset,” she admits. “About this whole situation. With McMann.”

“I know it's taking a long time. Especially to find out where the kids are. But we've been doing everything we can. We've been  running intel around the clock and Yaz has tech in every possible place he can think of. And Tyler can't do much until he actually knows where the kids are, so...”

“Did you know?” Nik interrupts.

“Know what?”

“About McMann. About where he is.”

“I know that Mark and his guys are holding him somewhere until the IRA makes up their mind. I know that they've been trying to get information out of him; about where his kids are.”

Nik's eyes narrow. “That's all you know?”

“”What more is there to know? That's all I've been told.”

“And who told you? About what was happening with McMann?”

“Tyler did. Why? Shouldn't have he? Was he supposed to keep a secret?  Look, if you're pissed at him for telling me, he's been having a hard time...mentally...since McMann told him what he would have done to me had his people caught me. He's been having real low moments and he's just not himself, Nik. He's obsessing over things and he misses the kids and he hasn't been taking his meds and....”

“Esme....” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “...what am I about to tell you? I'm not doing this to upset you. Or hurt you.  And the last thing I want to do is cause problems for you or that baby. Because you're my friend and I love you and...”

“I love you, too. I know we have our problems, but...”

“....I need to stay as calm as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“You can't expect me to be calm when you have that tone in your voice or that look in your eyes. What's going on? He is cheating on me, isn't he. That fucking bastard.”

“No. It's not that. Believe me when I say that Tyler would never, ever do that to you. And he's had the opportunities.”

“Thanks to you,” her tone is accusatory.

“And I'm sorry for that. I really am.  For ever crossing those boundaries. But this something you need to hear. Something that is far worse than the thought of him cheating on you, believe me.”

“Okay...” she crosses her arms over her chest. “....what the hell has he done?”

“You honestly do not know anything else about McMann and what's been happening to him?”

She shakes her head. “Just what I told you. I don't have a reason to know.”

“Actually, you do.  Tyler hasn't been telling you the truth. About the McMann thing. About what really happened. About where he's being kept. And what's going on while he's being kept there.”

“Nik, what the hell are you talking about? What would Tyler have to lie about? So what if the Marines are holding this guy and maybe roughing him up now and then. He's a sick and twisted fuck nut that deserves a good beat down. You  know what he said about me? What he would have done to me? How he would have made Tyler watch? That is sick shit. And he deserves to have his ass handed to him.”

“This goes way beyond someone having their 'ass handed to them'.  I want you to look at something...” Nik pulls her phone out of the front pocket of her pants, tapping on the icon for her photo gallery and then scrolling through pictures before holding the phone out to Esme. “...just keep flipping through them.”

Sighing, Esme holds the phone in the palm of her hand; a frown spreading across her face at the first image. Of a man restrained in a folding metal chair; a heavy chain around his torso keeping him in place, hands restrained behind his back, ankles bound, a hood over his head.

“That's Michael McMann,” Nik explains. “He's being held in a storage locker on the outskirts of town. In an industrial area. Do you know how he got there?”

“I know Tyler went to meet him and there was a plan arranged for Mark and his buddies to help grab him and that they were going to take him somewhere to hold him. I had no idea where.”

“He was drugged. Do you know who drugged him?

“How would I know? I wasn't even there. I just told you that I...”

“Tyler did. Tyler drugged him. And he could have killed him with how much he gave him.”

Her frown grows. “Where would Tyler get drugs from? He doesn't do drugs. He won't even take medication that's prescribed to him.”

“Billy Flynn gave them to him. That's where he met McMann. At Flynn's bar. Did you know that?”

She shakes her head.

“See this?”  Nik uses her index finger to switch pictures. “That's Michael Flynn's throat. See how bruised it is? Someone just about snapped his windpipe.  See the fingerprints on the side of his neck? That's when someone was choking him to restrain him.  And this...” she brings up the next picture. “...is the inside of McMann's mouth. Someone pulled three of his molars out. With pliers.”

“Why are you showing me these?”  Esme pushes the phone back into her friend's hands. “What does this have to with me?”

“It was Tyler. Tyler did these things.”

“What?” she can't help but laugh at the absurdness of it.  “You're kidding, right? Tyler? My Tyler? He did all that?”

Nik nods.

“You're telling that my husband drugged someone, kidnapped them, and is holding them hostage...in order to torture them...in a storage locker?”  

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? This has to be some kind of joke. Did Mark put you up to this? Because this is something Mark would do. This is the kind of sick shit he'd get off on. And I wouldn't put it past him to blame it on Tyler.  There is no way my husband would do this. This is not who he is. He doesn't torture and maim people. He kills them;when he has to.  But he doesn't do this,” she gestures towards the phone. “You know him, Nik. You've known him for even longer than I have. And you know that is not Tyler.”

“Esme, I would not come here and burden you with this. Especially now. Especially when there's a baby inside of you and I know you've had problems in the past with the others. But he won't listen to anyone. We've tried to talk him out of this. Mark, Yaz, myself. We've all tried.  And he won't listen. He won't budge. Regardless of what McMann did, this...” Nik holds aloft her phone. “....this is not right. This should not be happening.”

“There's no way he would do all that,” Esme argues.  “Not Tyler. He kills because he has to. Because it's either him or them. He doesn't do shit like this. That's not who he is and you know that.”

“You just said he's been having some issues. Mental ones.”

“Yeah, with his PTSD and not taking his meds. But he doesn't go Reservoir Dogs on someone because he's off his meds. He gets moody and depressed but he's more liable to kill himself than someone else. This he would not do. I know him, Nik. I know what he's like. Whether it's when he's at the highest of his highs or the lowest of his lows. And I know he would not do this.  So I don't know who told you all of this; that he's doing this. But it's not him.”

“He told me, Esme. Tyler told me. After I heard it from Mark. It's why I came here.  To confront Tyler. To try and talk some sense into him. He's not in his right mind. If he was, there's no way he would do this.  You're my last resort. I wouldn't have to come to you and put this on you if I had another way of handling this.”

She doesn't know how she feels.  Shocked? Numb? Disgusted even? None of it makes sense. None of it seems real. Even with the proof right there in those photographs.  And she feels nauseous; the distinct burn of bile as it rises in her throat.  “He would not do this,” she says, even though her gut knows it's true. That Nik would not do this to her; purposely make up something so outrageous just to hurt her.  “Tyler would not do this.”

“He would. And he is. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“I don't know....” she admits, and lays a hand on her stomach.  “....I don't know what I need to do.”

“Sit down,” Nik takes her by the arm and guides her towards the bed, still holding onto her as she lowers herself down onto the edge. “I'll get you some water. Just try and stay calm, okay?”

Esme nods, then grabs the phone out of Nik's hand before she can depart. Tears clouding her vision as she returns to the photo gallery and sends each of those disturbing, nauseating photos to her own cell phone.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Nik asks, as she returns with a glass of water from the bathroom. “Maybe some fresh air will do you some good. I know it's hard being cooped up like this and you've been under a lot of stress. It will be good for you to get out. Get some exercise. Some sunshine,” she attempts a reassuring smile, and rubs her friend's arm comfortingly. “I know how hard this is. To hear this. To see those pictures.”

“I can't believe he would do this,” Esme's hands shake as she lifts the water to her lips, and Nik puts a supportive hand under the bottom of the glass.  “This is not Tyler. He doesn't do things like this, Nik.”

“Not normally, no. But he has been under a lot of stress. A lot of tension. Worry. And now you're having a baby and he has that on his plate too....”

“Don't bring the baby into this. If anything, that's something he should be happy about.”

“He's been off his meds?”

She nods. “I don't know how long for. I've been so caught up with worrying about the kids and worrying about him not getting killed that I haven't been paying attention.”

“It's not your fault,” Nik rubs her back now. “You're his wife, not his babysitter.”

“I always know if he's going through a crisis. Always. And I'm always there for him. To help him through it. And maybe if I noticed sooner...”

“Esme, don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault.  You can help him, but you can't fix him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I told him not to take this job. I begged him not to take it. He'd just gotten back from Guatemala and he promised me...he promised the kids...that he would stay home. That he wouldn't take anything else for at least two weeks. And then McMann showed up in Telluride and everything went to shit.”

“That was McMann's plan. When he couldn't kill Tyler in Guatemala, he changed his entire plan. He concocted this elaborate story about his wife and his kids because he knew that Tyler would cave in at the mention of kids. He wanted to bring him here to start shit with the IRA. So the IRA would kill him and McMann's hands would be clean. No connection to Tyler's death. But when he brought you in and you started digging around....”

“So it's my fault?” the tears fall in earnest now. “He's doing this because of me? Because I got involved in this?”

“No. Esme, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that McMann had to make things even more complicated and twisted to get his hands on Tyler. Including targeting you and the kids. And that's why Tyler is doing this. Or at least that's his rationale. He feels he needs revenge.”

“For what? I'm fine. The kids are fine. What...?”

“The threat was even worse in his mind because he's not in a good place. You know what he gets like that, when he's off his meds.”

She nods. “He obsesses over things. He thinks things are a hundred times worse than what they are.”

“It's Tyler doing these things, but it's not Tyler at the same time. He's not the Tyler you know.  He may think he is, but he isn't.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he's that unhinged, I won't be able to get through to him.  No one will be able to get through to him.”

“Tough love?” she suggests.  “What is he most afraid of? Not just now. But always.”

“I can't do that him, Nik. I can't hurt him like that. If things are that bad now, what will he get like if I do that to him? I just can't. What he's doing is wrong, I'm not denying that. But I can't break his heart.”

“Esme, this is what he needs. To snap him out of it. If he has something he's afraid to lose, that will be what forces him to save himself. You know I'm right. Remember when you kicked him out? Six months it took. But he smartened up, didn't he? Because he was afraid you'd never take him back and he'd never see his kids.”

“I can't,” she insists. “I can't hurt him like that. Of all the things that would break him...”

“It will force him to get his shit together. It will make him realize that he's out of control and he's need to get his head on straight. I know you don't want to do it. You don't want to use yourself and your kids...his kids...as weapons, but you need to. If you want to save Tyler, you have to do it.  Or he'll become someone you don't even recognize. And you won't have a choice to walk  away for good. I know you don't want that.”

“No, I don't...” she uses the back of her hand to brush tears off her cheeks.  “...I don't want to walk away. I love him. And I know he loves me. I know he loves his kids. And I'm having a baby and I can't do it alone. I can't do it without him.”

“You'll have to if this goes on. Because you're going to loose him. To whatever the hell is going on inside his head. If you want to help save him, you have to do this. He needs you to do this.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agrees. “But it isn't going to well. It's going to go to shit. And then what? When he loses his mind? I'm not afraid of him. I know he won't hurt me. That's one thing I do know for sure. But he's going to flip out, Nik. And this place will be a battle zone.”

“If that happens,  you call me and I'll come and get you. You can come stay with me in my room until he calms down., okay?”

Esme nods.

“It's going to be alright,” Nik assures her, as she wraps an around her friend's shoulder, pulling her tight into her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Everything is going to be alright.”

****

She's sitting at the end of the bed when he returns, nervously bouncing her legs up and down and chewing on her bottom lip; cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“What's going on?” Tyler asks, as she slips his feet out of flip flops, leaving them by the door. “I thought you were going out with Tanis?”

“I changed my mind,”  her voice is strained, the emotion evident. And she doesn't look at him, even when he walks further into the room and lays his hand on her back and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Where were you?” she asks.

“I told you. I went to help out with McMann.”

“What kind of help?”

“What does it matter?”

“I'm just curious, I guess.  I mean, if three Marines can't handle him, what are you supposed to do about it?”

“Just an extra pair of hands there, I suppose. What's going on? You okay? You seem a little...”

“Upset?” she finishes for him.

He nods.

“I need you to be honest with me, Tyler. I don't want you lying to me. Where were you?”

“I just told you...”

“I know where you were and who you were with. But where were you? As in location? Why is it big secret? Why am I not allowed to know these things? How come every time I ask you, you either totally ignore me or you just change the subject?”

“You don't need to know. Your part in all of this is done now. There's nothing left for you to do. Why would I get you involved in anything else? You need to be taking it easy. For the baby.”

“Don't do that,” she shakes her head, and finally turns her face towards him, her eyes darker than he's ever seen them. “Don't you use this baby as an excuse to keep things from me.”

“What are you talking about? What...?”  he attempts to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she aggressively pushes it away and stands up, facing him.

“I am going to ask you one more time,” she says, voice trembling. “Where were you?”

“I fucking told you. I was helping with McMann. Where the hell does it matter where the actual place is?”

She inhales deeply, pulls her lip between her teeth, and then exhales sharply.  “What the hell is this?”  she brings up the photos on her phone, tapping on the one of McMann restrained to the chair, hood still over his face. “Can you explain this? Tell me what this is, Tyler.”

He sighs heavily, fists tightening by his sides. “Where did you get that?”

“Nik. She sent me a whole bunch. See...” she scrolls through the pictures, and when he attempts to reach for the phone, she yanks it away, holding it behind her back. “...tell me you didn't do this. Tell me you didn't drug someone and kidnap them and tie them up in a storage locker. Tell me you didn't do those things.”

He stares at her; long and hard, blue eyes never leaving dark brown.

“Tell me,” she orders. “Tell me it wasn't you. Tell me that she's wrong. That it was someone else and they're just wanting you to take the blame. Tell me.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can't.”

“So this was all you? All those pictures? All those things done to him? All those bruises and all the blood and the missing teeth? That was all you? You did all of that?”

He nods.

“Why? Why would you do this? What the hell,Tyler? This is not you! You don't do shit like this! You don't hurt people. You help them!”

“I've hurt plenty of people. I've killed even more. You know that.”

“You kill because you have to! Because you don't have a choice. Because it's you or them . But this! What you're doing now? You have a choice! You're choosing to do this! You're choosing to hurt someone!”

“He fucking deserves it,” his voice is low and steady, giving no evidence to the rage that's building inside of him.

“Why? Who the hell are you to say someone deserves this? Jesus Christ, Tyler! You ripped someone's teeth out of their mouth with goddamn pliers! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. He deserves this. I'm doing this for you.”

“For me?” she laughs incredulously. “For me? Why do you think I would want this? I don't want this! Put a bullet in his head and call it a fucking day! Don't do this! This is sick! This is fucked up and you know it!”

“You know what he was going to do to you? To the kids? Our kids?”

“Don't you dare use them in this. Don't you dare use them to justify this. You think this is what they would want? Their daddy doing these kinds of things to people? You worry about what Millie will say when she grows up. How she'll react when she finds out about your past as mercenary. You worry about that then you go and do this? This is somehow better?”

“She'd understand. That I did it for her.”

“You aren't going to rationalize this. No matter what you say to me. This ends now, Tyler. You hand him over to whoever is going to take him and that's it. This ends. You stop this right now.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing this? What am I doing? Holding you accountable for your bullshit? Like I've been doing for five and a half fucking years! When I have I never not called you out on something? Did you really think I wouldn't call you out on this?”

“You weren't supposed to find out.”

“Oh and lying about it makes it so much better. You know, when Nik showed up here and said we needed to talk, I was almost hoping she was going to tell me you were fucking her. Because that would have been so much easier to deal with than this. And how sad is that? That I'd rather you fuck another woman than do something like this?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that this stops right now. That you don't go near him ever again. That you let Mark and his guys handle this from now on. This ends here.  Tell me this ends here.”

He shakes his head.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Look at these pictures!” she throws the phone at them. “Look at them, Tyler! Look at them and tell me that this is okay! Fucking look at them!”

“Don't...” he takes a step towards her, a fist clutched at his side. “....don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“What are you going to? Are you going to the same thing to me? Are you going to lose your shit on me too?”

“I'd never do that. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I thought you'd never turn into this. I never thought you'd turn into someone who would do this kind of thing. After all the years you've spent getting people away from sick fucks that do these things, you turn around and you become one of them.”

“I'm nothing like them,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this? Why? Give me one good reason. Look me in the eye and give me one good reason.”

“I told you!” he finally snaps. “He was going to hurt you. He was going to hurt our kids. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let it happen? Be okay with it?!”

“He can't hurt us because you've got him locked up in that fucking storage place! He can't hurt anyone! So just leave him there to rot if you have to. But don't do this. You don't need to do this!”

“I do. For you. And the kids.”

“No!” she snarls, and jabs him in the chest with her forefinger.  “You don't use us like that! Don't you dare use us to justify this! We don't want you doing this! I want you to stop, Tyler. I want you to just walk away from McMann. From the job. I want you to tell Nik to find someone else to get those kids. Because you are in no way healthy enough to do this job.”

He smirks. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Talking to me like this? Who...?”

“I'm your wife, you fucking asshole!  I'm your wife and I'm worried about you! Because you're becoming someone I don't even recognize! You're slowly becoming a completely different person and I can't watch it happen. I can't just stand back and let you do this to yourself.”

“The person you remember is gone, Esme. You're remembering someone that existed for five days. In Dhaka. That's who you remember.”

“No,” she shakes her head, remaining defiant.  “I remember the person after that. The person who chose to keep going when he could have given up. That's who I remember.”

“The guy you fell in love with? He died that day on the bridge. You know he did. That's who you remember. That guy you were fucking for five days. That's who you remember.”

“No, Tyler. That's not who I remember. I remember the guy who saved a fourteen year old boy even though the job went to shit and there wasn't going to be a payout.  I remember the guy who busted his ass to get Ovi and I across the bridge. That's who I remember!”

“Do you remember the guy that got shot in the throat? That fucking bled out all over you? Do you remember him? Look at it!” he points to the scar on his neck. “Fucking look at it, Esme. You can't, can you. You can't even look at it because it because too real to you. Do you remember that guy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Because that guy died that day. And he took those other guys with him. What you got in the end? That's not the same guy.”

“You're better than that guy.  You became a better man. Do you remember saying that to me? That I made you want to become a better man? Do you remember that?”

He nods.

“You are a better man. And that's the man I want. I don't want the man that does shit like this to people. And you don't want to be that man. I know you don't want to.”

“I'm sorry,” he snarls. “That I can't be that person for you.”

“You are that person, you dick! And I want you to stay that person, Tyler. I need you stay that person. Your kids need you to stay that person.”

“You should have let me die. On that bridge. You should have just let me die.”

She fights back the tears despite the devastation his words inflict upon her heart. Her entire body. “How can you even say that? Is that really what you wanted? You wanted me to let you die?”

“It would have been better if you'd just let me go.”

“Better for who? You? You were the one that wanted to keep seeing me after Dhaka. You brought it up first. We made plans. Together. To travel and enjoy getting to know each other and see where things took us. A guy who wants to die does not do that. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

“It would have been so much easier,” he speaks with a quiet resolve, despite the rage that causes his entire body to tremble.

“For you? That's bullshit, Tyler and you know it.”

“You wouldn't have wasted the last five and a half years of you life.”

“I didn't waste anything. I married the love of my life. I had his children. There was nothing wasted. I've spent these last five and a half years loving you with everything I am and everything I have. And I spent them being loved by you. I wasted nothing.”

“None of this would be happening. This bullshit with McMann. People going after my kids. Threatening them. If I hadn't survived...”

“But you did,” she hisses. “You did survive. You didn't die because you're a stubborn fucking asshole who refuses to give up. The same stubborn asshole who coded three times in the OR and still came back. You have me. You have your children. Aren't we enough? Aren't we enough to make you want to live?”

“Of course you are. But....”

“There's no 'buts', Tyler. I know how stressed you are right now. I know you're going through a fucking nightmare mentally. And I know that it frustrates you and it confuses you and I know it scares you. But you're not in this alone. I am right here with you. And I'll fight your fight with you.”

“You shouldn't have to!” he argues. “Don't you fucking get that? You shouldn't have to keep doing this!”

“I don't have to do anything. I want to. Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you swallow your goddamn pride and let me in? Just let me help you. Please.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to stop this. This McMann bullshit. Because that's not you. Regardless of what you say, regardless of your stupid ass reasonings. That's not the man I fell in love with. That I married. That I gave children to. It's your brain, Tyler. It's messing with you. So you need to stop right now. And you need to tell Nik that you're done. Someone else can find those kids. You tell her and we leave. We get the first flight out of here and we go and get our kids and Ovi and we go home.”

He shakes his head, voice choked by emotion. “I can't.  I'm sorry.  I can't.”

“You still want to finish the job,” it's a statement, not a question. “You still think you need to stay and get it done.”

He nods.

“Well I guess you've made your choice then. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it, Tyler. You were always going to chose the job over me, weren't you.”

“That is not what I'm doing. I promised you, at the end of it, I was done.”

“I am sick to death of your promises. Of you breaking them all the time. I'm tired.  I'm tired and I've got another human being inside of me that I'm trying to keep alive. I'm tired and I'm done. You made your choice,” she steps past him, aggressively shoving her shoulder into him.

“What are you doing?” he watches as she grabs one of her suitcases out of the unlocked second closet in the hall. “Esme...what the fuck? Stop your fucking games, okay? Just stop this shit and just sit down and we will talk about this and...”

“We are way past sitting down and talking about anything,” she tosses the suitcase onto the bed, angrily yanking on the zipper to open it, then stomps to the dresses and begins tearing open drawers; gathering up various items of clothing and messily tossing them into the case.

“Just stop!” he orders. “What are you doing?!”

“I'm leaving. I'm going back to Colorado. I'll stay with my mom until Ovi brings the kids back.”

“You don't need to do that. Stop...” he stands behind and reaches around her slight frame to grab both of her wrists in one of his hands. “You don't need to leave. I don't want you to leave.”

“If I stay, I'm only going to be in your way. Just like I was in Dhaka.”

“That's not true. You were never in my way in Dhaka.”

“It wouldn't have been so hard if I'd died in that forest too. If Saju had have just done me in when he had the chance. Things would have been a lot easier on you and a lot easier on Ovi.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

“Why am I even here still? My usefulness ran it's coarse, right? You don't need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you. You're my wife.”

“You chose, Tyler,” she manages to yank her hands out of his grip. “You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”

“Don't do this. Please. I never chose the job over you.”

“You just did!” she bellows, and pushes him away with her elbow, tears flowing freely down her face. “You just did!”

“I promised you I'd be done after I was finished her. That was what our deal.”

“Well fuck the deal!” she shoves him away once more when he attempts to get closer. “And fuck you too, Tyler!”

“Esme...stop...don't do this. Don't leave.  I don't want you to leave.”

“You need to get your shit together,” she orders. “You need to figure out what the hell you want.”

“You,” there's no hesitation.  “I want you. I want my kids.”

“Then come with me. Tell Nik that you're done. Tell her you're finished and come home with me.”

“You know I can't. You know I can't leave those kids.”

“But you can you leave yours right? That's a never a problem to you.  It's never a problem when you walk out the door while they're sleeping and leave me to clean up your mess. You can leave your own kids...that you helped make...but not complete strangers. Makes total sense.”

“Just give me to the end of the week. Like we agreed on. That's all I'm asking for here. Just five more days.”

“And then five days become ten and ten become twenty and on and on and on.”

“Not this time,” Tyler insists. “This time I'm done. I meant what I said.”

“I'm not staying here. I refuse to stay here. I'm not hanging around to get that phone call or that knock on the door letting me know you're dead. I'm going home. To Colorado. To my mom's. And you get a hold of Ovi and you get him and my kids back. Do you understand me?”

“Esme...” he lays his hands on her shoulders. “...just stop.”

“You track down Ovi and my kids and you get their asses back to Colorado. Or I will never, ever forgive you. I will spend the rest of my life hating you if you don't  get my kids back where they belong. And stop!” she uses her elbows to knock her hands off her shoulders. “Stop touching me! I don't want you touching me right now. Just get my kids back, Tyler.”

“They're my kids too,” he angrily reminds her.

“Yeah, well try being a father once in a while. Not just when it's convenient for you and fits your schedule.”

“That's fucking low and you know it, Esme. That's really fucking low. I do what I do for those kids. For you!”

“You do what you do because you like it. You just won't admit. Because it makes you sick to admit it so you use me and the kids as an excuse. Because it makes you feel better. Quit your shit, Tyler. Just admit. For once, just admit you do this job because you enjoy it.”

“I don't enjoy it. I do it because I'm good at it. No. I'm fucking great at it. And the money...”

“Fuck the money. There is not enough money in this world to replace you! I don't care about the money. I would leave  with you right now and go back to Australia and live in that goddamn shack with you and four kids and fucking chicken in the bathroom if that's what you wanted. If that is what would make you happy. If that's what would you keep you home and safe!”

“Esme....please...just stay here with me...we can sit down and talk about this. Like rational adults.”

“Tyler, I am way past feeling rational. I'm not staying here with you.  I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.  But I can't be around you right now. I just can't. You need time to think. Without me around.”

“No,” he remains steadfast. “I don't.

She finishes throwing the clothes into the suitcase and zips it closed. “I'll be there. When this is done. I'll be waiting for you to come home. But if in your heart you do want the job over us, don't even bother coming back. Move. Get out of my way.”

“Stop. Right now. Stop whatever fucking game this is and...”

“This isn't a game!” she screams. “I said move!”

He holds his hands up in surrender and steps backwards. “You're leaving now?” he asks incredulously, as she grabs the suitcase and heads for the door.  “Right now? Where the hell are you going?”

“I'll stay with Nik.  Then I'll get a flight back first thing tomorrow.”

He crosses the room in three long strides, slamming a palm against the door to prevent her from opening it. “Stay here. With me. Then tomorrow you book a flight and I will take you to the airport. Just stay here. With me.”

“Why? Because you think fucking me a few times will make everything better? It doesn't solve everything, Tyler. Regardless of what you think.”

“I never said that. I never even thought it. I just want you to stay. I just want to sleep here. With me. In the same bed. So I can wake up beside you. That's all I want.”

“I can't.  You need to respect that. That I need to be away from you right now. This all too much. Finding out what you've been doing. I need time to come to terms with that and I need to take care of myself and this baby and I can't do either of those things if I'm with you. You have to let me go, Tyler.”

“No. I don't, And I won't.”

“If I stay, this won't end well. Because all the worry and the stress is going to get to me and I'm going to lose this baby and you won't ever forgive yourself for that. So please. Just let me go. If you love me, if you love this baby, just let me go.”

“Fine...” he relents, removing his hand from the door and stepping back far enough to allow her to open it.

“I'm sorry,” she says,  and he reaches out to clear the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “This is not about not loving you. Because I do. I love you so fucking much. And it's because I love you that I'm doing this.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I need you to understand that. I need you to know that I love you and I'm not leaving you. I don't want this...us...to be over. I just need to take care of myself and this baby. I can't do that if I'm here. And you know I can't. You know right, that?”

“Yup.”

“I want you to find those kids. I do. And then I want you to come home. To me. To our kids. Your kids. Promise me, Tyler. If there's ever going to be one promise you make and keep, make it that one.”

“I promise. I'll come home. To you. To the kids.”

“Be careful, okay? And stay safe. Come home in one piece. And breathing.”

“I will,” he assures her.

She manages a small smiles, then reaches up to push his hair off of his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he leans down to kiss her.  Long and languid. Tender.

“I'll see you when I see you,” she says.

He grins. “That's my line.”

“Well, I beat you to it this time.”

He lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him, pressing his lips to her brow.  “Stay,” he says. “Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll let you leave. I'll take you to the airport.”

“If I don't leave now, I never will. And that's not good for either of us. But I'll be waiting for you. I promise,” she places her hand on the side of his face, running her thumb over his lips and then the bristles of his beard. “I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too. At least call me. Before you leave tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promises, and briefly leans her forehead against his chest before stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

[until-we-fall-in-love]

Into the Hush: Chapter Two

-Chapter One-

-Into the Hush Masterlist-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, a little Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: It’s only ever been you and the rugged wilderness; both unkempt and undomesticated. Until it isn’t anymore.

(1870s Cowboy AU. A/B/O AU. Gothic/horror.)

Warnings: Violence, gore, dark themes, A/B/O dynamics, smut in later chapters, a touch of it in this one.

If you are under 18, you should not be reading this!

A/N: hey guys!! sorry for the wait on this, i’m just finishing up finals so i should have more time to write!! it got a little long, so i would love any feedback or comments you might have!! enjoy!!

***

Spring grows thick and unruly in the coming weeks, crops burst through the ground and unfurl their leaves to the sun. The days grow longer once more, the sun lingering on the horizon. It’s become warmer, too, slowly creeping into the beginning of summer. You start wearing lighter dresses, less layers, try to keep your hair off the back of your neck when you work. 

Steve and Bucky have been helping you on the farm for the past few weeks. Despite your initial reluctance, they’ve done good work, helped you out a great deal. They listen to you respectfully, work hard, and treat you like an adult. Not a girl, not an Omega. It’s refreshing for once, it’s made you a little more friendly to them, in the least. They’re careful of your boundaries, they don’t near spaces that seem to be yours; your bedroom, the corner of the settee in the living room that’s got a cozy, knitted blanket curled around it and a pillow that smells of you, the loft in the barn that you like to read in, the spot by the creek where the grass is worn from you setting out a blanket to lounge there. They’re careful not to get too close to you unless you step near them first.

For awhile, they work in the new summer heat with their shirts on. But eventually, Steve sheds his when you’re off doing another chore, only for you to come back and see him and the broad, strong muscles of his chest and torso. Though you’d flushed and averted your eyes, you hadn’t said much, so he grew comfortable working that way.

Bucky was more reluctant, though, and he still kept a single glove on his left hand. He remained in long sleeves, even as the sun burned brighter. You never dared ask about it, but the curiosity did nibble at the back of your mind. You walked along the prairie grass with it, wondering what he was hiding, if anything at all. You meandered back to the farm after your lunch break by the creek and as if your mind was read—

You catch sight of Bucky shirtless. 

He’s chopping wood beneath the sun, sweat on his brow, dampening his neck. Your eyes trace over his broad, bare shoulders, one of which is--

One is made of metal. It cuts silver, gleaming under the sun. It’s made of moving gears, which churn and rotate at the joints. Metal plating surrounds pipes inside of it but it moves like a normal arm. Like a small engine, a small machine attached to him, one with him. 

It reminds you of all the new trains and factories in big cities; raw, open creations of machinery. 

He picks his head up, notices you, and immediately goes still. You near him as if nothing is different, however you can smell the change in his scent-- the worrisome burst of pine that sharpens into the smell of winter, of metal. Is he nervous? 

You are careful to keep your face neutral, your eyes away from his metal arm. You try to keep your features the same aloofness that you always hold with him and Steve, however you do glance into his eyes, dark and midnight blue. 

And your voice is softer than you’d like it to be when you ask, “Do you want water? I’m going to get some.” 

He blinks, as if he’s surprised by this, his face searching yours. You think maybe he inhales slow to grab your scent, to give him any clues as to what you’re feeling. You bristle a little, become suddenly self-conscious.  

But he inclines his head, dips it a little lower, purposefully submissive or thankful, and his voice is rough and quiet when he responds, “Yes, please.” 

You nod and quickly turn away from him to find Steve to ask the same question. Steve is in the stables usually by this time, taking care of Clover, and he’s been working on repairing the door, which nearly falls off its hinges. You step into the cool shade of it, Clover huffing as she sees you enter. You find Steve around the corner, fiddling with the hinges of the door once more.

He picks his head up when he sees you, straightening to his full height. There’s a flicker of surprise in his features, “You’re back from lunch early,” he says, a little too casually.

You only respond, “I’m going to the well to get water. Would you like some?” 

Steve nods slowly, “Yes, ma’am. If it’s no trouble.” And then he fidgets, shifts from foot to foot, “I’ll ask Buck if he wants any, too—“

Steve moves to leave, but you speak up, “I already did.” 

Steve pauses, “You saw him already?” And there’s a note of worry in his tone. His scent becomes thick with protectiveness suddenly, and he turns back to face you, his blue eyes shadowed slightly in the low light of the barn. Sunlight breaks in through the cracks of the wood, cuts across his face in a thin line, like a lightning strike.

You’re certain this protectiveness comes from Bucky’s arm, you’re sure others have been far less kind about it. And Steve, so loyal, is already ready to do anything for him.

“Yes,” You say calmly, look into his eyes and don’t back down from the squaring of his shoulders, “I’ve already seen him.” 

With that, you turn on your heels, about to rush out, but Steve snags your wrist. You stop with a jolt, his grip tightening. He keeps you rooted in place and you round on him quickly, eyes blazing as you snap;

“Let me go.” 

“Are you gonna rush in and tell your father?” Steve asks, and there’s a sternness to him, a hardness in his eyes that you know is unshakable. It’s all Alpha, the hard cut of his jaw as his teeth grind together, the pheromones that sharpen the air. 

You blink, surprised. “About Bucky?” 

He nods, slow, tight.

“No.” You say, “Why would I?”

You pull at your wrist again, irritated by his hold on you still, and this time he drops your wrist like it’s burned him. 

“Not many have taken kindly to him because of his arm.” Steve says carefully, still eyeing you, the eyes of someone trying to discern if you’ll be a threat or not. “Most people think it’s an abomination.” 

“The contraption is curious,” You admit, “It’s—“ You search for the right word, “It seems so modern, especially in this small town.”

“It is advanced, even for big city standards in America. A friend of mine had it made for him. He’s from a far more advanced country than ours.” Steve explains and he’s still eyeing your face, trying to discern your reaction, so you fight to keep it as neutral as possible. 

“Does it move with him?” You ask tentatively.

“More or less. It struggles sometimes, slow, and the metal is heavy. The gears can overheat; sometimes it’s easier to go without it.” 

You nod, eyes flickering away from Steve once more. You don’t dare ask it, but your mind wanders to how he might’ve lost his arm in the first place. There’s a pang from within your chest, a bruise that blossoms at the idea of Bucky in such pain. Perhaps you look upset, perhaps your scent has changed because when you glance back up, Steve’s imploring eyes on your face have softened. 

“Confederates took him, while we were fighting in the Civil War. He was gone for weeks.” Steve says slowly, quietly, “Most thought he was dead but--” Steve shakes his head, tilts it a little, begs you to understand, “I couldn’t give up on him.” 

You realize, faintly, that your heart has stopped ticking, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. You’re looking at Steve with wide eyes, unsure if you want to hear this story. Maybe not from Steve. 

“Sam and I,” Steve continues and you know Sam, you’ve met him in town, too. Sam, who travels with Steve and Bucky, and the red-headed Alpha, Natasha. He’s friendly and warm and funny, smelling of amber and the warmth of a bonfire. “We went after him. We got him back. But he’d lost his arm and he was different after that.” Steve explains gently, as if this still twists at him, too. “He was changed.” 

You don’t ask what they might’ve done to him. You don’t want to know, can feel the sinking, sick feeling slither low inside of you. Perhaps you don’t want to hear it from Steve, at least. And he doesn’t go on, he settles into a restless silence, fiddling with tools around him. You think he’s trying to keep his hands busy suddenly, trying to push the thoughts of his friend being captured away. But the shadows and darkness seem to grow larger for a moment, around him, around you. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip until it’s raw, until you can focus on the cracks of light spilling through the barn rather than the reaching, tall shadows.

Before you leave to fetch water, your fingers twisting in your skirts, you pick your head up to find Steve’s eyes finally. And without quite knowing what you mean, but like your heart wants to spill over, you tell him;

 “I’m glad you got him back.” 

***

You drag tired and heavy feet up the stairs of your porch as the evening settles into the darkness of night. You’re exhausted, but warm with the flush of laughter from Wanda. You’d been racing in the forests, where the trees grow massive and towering, reaching up to the sky as if they might grasp the sun. You’d climbed the trees with her, too, scraped your palms and knees and laughed until your sides hurt when branches broke and you had to hold onto each other. 

You’re tired, but you’re happy and sated. You’re about to hollar for your father, let him know you’re home and you’re gonna prepare warm water for a bath to sink into before tumbling into your bed for the night.

But something gives you pause. 

The front door is slightly ajar, hanging there, creaking in the suddenly unsettling wind that whispers through the old wood of the house.  

Your father would never leave the door open like that. 

Your breath comes in quick and before you can rationally think, you rush forward and inside, shove the door nearly off its hinges as you half-expect to find Steve and Bucky in the entrance with your father once more. 

You almost enter excited, excited to see them, to see him--

But when you burst through, you’re met with Rumlow’s scarred face, shrouded in writhing shadows. Your father sits at the dinner table, the candles at the table flickering and trying to fight off the darkness. 

The fireplace is losing, the flames withering and dying into ash.

“Ah,” Rumlow says, turning to you, “There she is.” And the way he says it,  makes ice slip down your spine and drop into you. You shiver, despite the warmth of the early summer night. 

You look to your father, who looks pale and angry. He looks shaken. 

You grow agitated, bristling, bunching up your shoulders as if you might make yourself somehow bigger. As if you could arch your back like a vicious cat, unsheathe claws and bare teeth.

“Mr. Rumlow.” You say coldly. 

“We were just talking about you.” He muses in that raspy, hissing voice, like the sliding of a snake’s scales against stone. The rustling of brush before something lurches out to strike. 

“Were you?” You ask flatly, lingering in the doorway. Your shadow spills out across the floor and towers over them. 

He hums in affirmation, leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world. As if this house belongs to him. You want to force him out, snarl something nasty and make him leave. You feel invaded, seeing him stand in your home. With your vulnerable father. His rotting scent permeates the air, makes your nose wrinkle. 

“Talking about how you’d make a fine wife.” He continues, eyeing you in a way that makes your heart suddenly drop like a stone in the deep pits of you. “A fine Omega for an Alpha.” 

Your cheeks prickle with heat and for some foolish reason, embarrassment. Or perhaps it’s because you’re suddenly deeply uncomfortable. You stare with wide eyes shining in the last blaze of evening light. 

Your father stands suddenly, even on his bad knee, leaning heavily onto the table but squaring his broad shoulders. “Rumlow, I told you she’s not much interested in marrying anytime soon.” He says, voice gravelly, like there’s a warning in it. A flash of his eyes that indicate another word from the other Alpha and there will be trouble. It’s too bold of your father, with his injured knee and age. 

You brace yourself to fight Rumlow, to protect your father as his scent becomes almost choking with irritation. 

“How forward of you, lettin’ her pick when that is.” Rumlow says slow and this time you feel the anger prick inside of you like a thorn, striking you so suddenly that you almost lurch forward to--

To do what, you don’t know. 

But you grind through your teeth, “I think it’s time for you to leave.” And you aren’t being polite, you’re giving an order. 

His eyes flash to you, bright in the darkness, a flame that’s suddenly sparked. Alphas like him aren’t used to taking orders, especially not from Omegas. He bares his teeth at you, steps forward and into your space. He tries to make you cower, growls like it might make you back down or bare your neck or lower your eyes submissively. 

You know it’s what he wants. 

But you bare your teeth back, tip your chin up. 

“Get out.” You say lowly, feel the trace of your own growl around the edges. It’s rooted this time deep inside of you, not the light sounds you made with Wanda, but something guttural and raw. Like maybe you could roar if you tried. 

“You’ve been given a little too much freedom, Omega.” He says into your face, glowering down at you with such horrible eyes. “And that won’t last forever.” 

With that, he moves past you, and out the door. He slams it, let’s the sound rattle throughout the old house until you can feel it in your bones.

Your father falls back into the chair wearily. 

You go to him, “Are you okay, Pa?” 

He nods, a slow, drooping of his head. And then he picks his eyes up to look at you, to assess you. A rasping laugh falls from his lips as he then shakes his head slightly. His laughs turn into coughs. 

“Christ, I thought you were gonna kill him where he stood.” He gets out.

A surprised laugh bubbles up and out of you, too, a bark of it, “I would’ve,” You joke, but a part of you thinks you would. For you, Pa, I would’ve, a quiet, overprotective part of you whispers. 

“Be careful,” He says after a moment, as if he can see your bravery laid bare before his very eyes. As if he can see that fierceness in you. “Please,” He then says, “For your old man.” 

You offer a wavering smile, feel another chill descend upon you, but nod your head and promise anyways, “Of course, Pa.” 

***

That night, you dream of a meadow with a blank, grey sky. You can hear the summer cicadas, the high humming of them that sings in your bones. The air feels thick with tension, like there might be a storm approaching. Maybe there’s thunder in the distance, rumbling and soft. 

But when you turn, it is your mother you see, sitting on the heather hills as if she was alive and well and as bright as ever. 

“Ma,” You breathe and you walk towards her, pick up your skirts to walk faster. She smiles at you, her form shimmering in pearl and gold light. She looks healthy again. She looks remarkable. 

“There’s my hellcat,” She smiles and opens her arms the way mother’s do, the way you have missed with every part of you. You rush forward and embrace her tightly. Hold her there even though it feels like trying to hold the wind. 

She pushes the hair from your face and strokes your cheeks. Tears glimmer in your eyes. 

“Ma, I miss you.” You whisper and she smiles sadly, as if she knows. 

“I miss you, too.” She says, touching her forehead to yours, “But I have little time to speak with you, so let me speak.” 

“You have to be careful.” She says before you can even respond and she squeezes her eyes shut, “Danger is coming.” She warns and her voice grows strange and faint and withering. Her form flickers.

You try to hold tighter to her, try to grasp at her so she doesn’t slide away from you again. 

In the distance, someone moves. You look over her shoulder, at the horizon, where Bucky walks along a sloping hill. He’s framed against the sky, a peak of gold trying to burst free from the dense grayness. It falls over him in luminous rays. He’s shirtless, his metal arm cast in gold. 

You flush darkly at his lack of clothes. Your mother turns to see him, which only furthers your blush.

“You need to trust him.” Your mother says as if it is gravely important to do so. 

“I-I do.” You stammer. 

She takes your face between her cold, dead hands again, “No, when the time comes, you need to trust him.” She repeats, holding you tight. “Don’t be stubborn. Don’t turn from him.” 

You blink, mouth open, unsure of what to say but her form flickers again. And this time it begins to turn grey and mottled, too. 

“Ma!” Your hands fly over her, too, now, desperate to try and keep her and--

And maggots begin to skitter from her mouth, suffocating any last words that she tries to give you. She begins choking, her skin now sagging and sloughing off, and you scream. You scream all hoarse and raw and untethered as you scramble away when maggots begin to rush after you, following as you shove yourself backwards.

You wake with tears in your eyes and your heart hammering, thinking the darkness only seems to get more and more lonely with each cursed dream. 

The morning brings the light, but it seems faint and waning. 

***

Your father catches Steve and Bucky in that red dawn, the sun hanging like a warning sign. You’ve already begun your chores, off in the fields.

Bucky looks at you all alone against the open sky, your silhouette against the darkened, vermilion hills that frame you. He thinks something inside of him is unthawing, awakening from that place in his chest that seemed so dormant and dulled for so many years. He feels newer, softer than he ever has before. 

“I have a favor to ask you fellas.” Your father says slowly, drawing Bucky’s eyes away from you reluctantly, and to the man that rocks in his chair on the porch. It creaks softly, old and worn. 

“Yessir?” Steve asks, respectful and expectant. 

“Watch out for my daughter for me, will ya?” He says and there’s something in his voice that is thick and choked. It makes Bucky wary. He glances back out to you, so alone against that blazing sky, then to your father. 

“With all due respect, sir,” Bucky starts, “I don’t think she needs us much.” 

Your father shakes his head and when he meets Bucky’s eyes again, his eyes are glistening. There is real fear there, the hopeless kind, the horrible, overpowering kind that Bucky knows in the very basest part of him. The kind that is a hungry dog, howling and crying and begging.

It frightens him, too, Bucky thinks. Because it’s about you. Why is he scared for you? 

“Rumlow stopped by last night.” He admits, his voice raspy and quiet. Bucky feels his shoulders raise instinctively, he can feel the surge of aggression at the simple mention of the other Alpha’s name. “Asked for my daughter’s hand.” 

Bucky’s heart stops altogether now.

“I denied him.” And now he looks back up at Bucky again with those eyes, “But I don’t think he’s going to give up, you understand?” 

His eyes are pleading, cloudy with age. 

“I’m scared for her.” He tells them and his strong voice wavers. 

Bucky feels his breath waver, too, feels the same fear creep through him like a serpent. It coils around his chest, right along his heart, and threatens to squeeze until he can’t breathe any longer. The idea of anything happening to you—

His teeth grind together. He blinks hard. 

Steve speak for him, “We’ll watch out for her.” He says, earnest and like he means it. Bucky knows he does but it’s not the way Bucky feels. Steve cares for you, deep and sure and strong but Bucky, he— he feels half wild at the thought. 

He thinks, for whatever reason, he’d do anything for you. 

And your father nods, so Steve steps down from the porch to begin his own morning of work. Bucky lingers, wood creaking beneath his feet as he shifts. He doesn’t know why he stays, but he feels he has to. He releases a shuddering breath.

Your father seems to know why Bucky stands before him more than even he does. The elder man regards him evenly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Like your father knows something the rest of the universe doesn’t, he says, “Take care of her.” 

And Bucky nods, slow, certain. 

“With my whole life, sir.” Bucky promises, feels it down to his marrow, his very being. 

Your father releases a breath now, as if he can finally rest easy. 

***

Summer takes hold quickly and the days grow longer, warmer. The sun is high and burning in the sky, white-gold and shimmering down in wavering heat. You finished your share of work this morning, which was significantly less with Bucky and Steve helping out. You’d slipped off to meet Wanda at the creek near your farm, wandered down the well-worn path you’d created over the years until the tall grass became sandy and speckled with smooth pebbles that catch in the high sun. 

Wanda is already there, sitting beside the bubbling creek, the water shimmering under the light. It’s the clearest water you know of, crystalline, like beautiful glass. You’d built a small dam with some of the rocks some summers ago, captured a small, perfect pool of it. 

Mountains surround the place, hide you away, shelter you against the rest of  the world. The breeze is rich and sweet as peaches, honeyed and warm.  Wanda lifts her fingers from the water, which drip and sparkle, cause little pools to ripple out from the surface. 

“Took you long enough.” She teases with her lifted, lovely smirk. She begins undressing then, stripping her layers down and some days, she’ll leave her knickers and camisole on, but today she sheds those, too. Until she is bare beneath the sunlight, her auburn hair shimmering like a flame. There is, you think, something about Omegas in the spring and midsommar, brighter and opening like the petals of flowers. Her scent is thick, seductive and sweet and mysterious. 

And then she wades into the creek, hissing at the coldness of the water, which come straight from the broad, high mountains that protect you. 

You follow after her, quickly unlacing your dress, squirming out of it and dropping it in the sand. You strip until you are naked, too, until the heat is on your skin and you feel as if you can finally breathe without all of your clothes. Your feet on the bare earth, digging into the sand, the wind on your flushed skin. It’s freeing, makes you roll your shoulders back and smile. 

You rush into the water, inhaling quickly with the sudden shock of the cold. You dive beneath the surface, though, dunk your head and hair and feel clarity, feel as bright and cool as this bubbling creek. 

Wanda still stands in water up to her calves, her arms now wrapped around her midsection, shivering slightly. 

“Chicken,” You call her, dipping low in the water so that it covers up to your shoulders. You swim to her, until you can stand and walk and you grab her wrist, haul her in as she squeals with laughter and fear.

“Don’t!” She laughs brightly, “I’ll come in on my own!” 

You dig your heels into the pebbles and sand, pull harder and send you both backwards with a splash. 

Wanda gasps when she resurfaces, startled by the cold, but she turns mischievous, auburn eyes on you. Then she splashes a large wave at your face, which splatters with another cold burst. But you laugh, too, and splash back.

You begin wrestling and climbing over each other then, throwing each other down into the water until your hearts are pounding and your eyes are shining and lively. Until, eventually, you crawl back onto the bank, lay out on the sand and in the sun to dry. Your toes are still in the water, brushing your feet through the pools, the sand soft beneath you. You’re both still bare, leisurely and comfortable in your privacy. Your chest is warmed by the sun, your stomach and ribs expanding wide and free with every breath. You think no one knows about your little oasis, you feel safe in your little area of comfort, in your corner of the world.

But then you hear voices on the sloping hills, heading towards the creek. 

And you know those voices. You and Wanda both sit up so fast that your head spins and you see sunspots dance in your vision. You lock eyes, just as you hear Steve and Bucky’s voices carrying towards you, nearing you. Both your eyes go wide, before Wanda starts laughing, and you’re both up faster than you blink, running around in search of all of your missing garments.

Wanda won’t stop laughing at your predicament, and you’re hissing at her, telling her it isn’t funny, as you scramble to put on your bloomers, on your camisole at the least. Wanda can barely get her clothes rightened before they round down the last slope and find the pair of you, only in your underwear. 

You try to hold up your dress to cover more of you.

Steve makes a startled noise and quickly looks upwards. You and Bucky lock eyes for a heart beat, a flash of heat suddenly striking you. A wildfire that sparks, catches, and jumps into a sudden flame inside the pits of you. The sun feels too warm on all your exposed skin.

A breeze rustles past him, sweeps his scent around you, which has grown muskier and darker. Your lips, shining and wet, part slightly. 

He blinks and his eyes quickly drop to the ground.

“Sorry,” Steve says and you can tell his cheeks are pinkened, “We didn’t know anyone was down here.” 

Wanda stifles her giggles behind her hand.

You clear your throat, feel heat at your neck and your cheeks. “Well, we didn’t know anyone knew about this place.” You get out as you scramble to get the rest of your clothes back on. Mortification overcomes you, bears down on you. You barely get your dress laced up. 

“We can leave.” Steve suggests, but you roll your eyes.

“We’re fine, now.” You say, but your hair is damp and free from any braids or updos. You both still look improper, bare feet still in the sand and clothes disheveled. 

Both men peak at you tentatively, as if you might be lying, before discovering you’re both fully dressed. 

“We’ll be quick, then.” Steve suggests, moving to the clear, sparkling water. But they aren’t quick and the sun begins droop beneath the mountains. The sky is brilliant orange and spiced pink berry, lavender and creme clouds that linger in the high sky. It’s a dream, you think, as the evening begins to cool and Wanda’s bright laughter is in your ears and Steve is smiling and--

Bucky looks relaxed, for once. 

He sits beside you on the bank, while Wanda wades in the water, hitching up her skirts to her knees. Steve leans against a nearby tree, watching, happy-eyed and gentle. There is contentment in this little oasis, guarded by the peaks and valleys of the land, contentment in your beings.

You can tell Bucky wants to speak, can feel his eyes on you. Silently, you dare him to, your eyes glittering in those final rays of sun.  

So he says, gently, with the barest hint of a smile upon his lips, “You belong here, in this wilderness.” 

You blink; at the fondness of his voice, at the observation or compliment or-- you don’t know what it is. But it warms you, settles inside of you. And you smile, too, wider than him, fiery little slip of a smile that seems to set his whole world aglow. 

You smile unabashedly, and he smiles wider, too, like you’re teaching him how. 

And you tip your face up to those jagged peaks of mountains and the bursting, colorful sky, at the running water, and trees that hang overhead. The wind brushes past your collarbones and you agree, “I do, I think.” 

You turn to face him then, so suddenly that he almost pulls away. You’re closer than you thought, your noses nearly touching and his shoulder brushes against yours. The hard, metal one. It doesn’t scare you, even if he holds incredibly still. 

You lean more into it, just to watch the breath tumble from him. Relieved. 

“And where do you belong?” You ask him, tipping your chin up a little, a slight challenge, a glint in your clever eyes. 

Bucky laughs, quick and short, just a burst. It’s rasping, small, like he needs to relearn the sound. It makes Steve’s head turn because he doesn’t know the last time he’s heard it.

“I don’t know.” He tells you but his eyes are sparkling, sapphire and heaven blue, as if he might find where he belongs in your eyes. “I don’t know anymore.” 

“The wilderness welcomes all untempered and lost things.” You say with a smile, just before Wanda splashes over to you, grabs you by the hands and pulls you back up into the bubbling, joyful creek. 

You kick around in it, the bottom of your skirts soaking through, even as you lift them to reveal ankles, the curve of your calves. And you keep looking back at him, smiling and tossing your head back to laugh. 

Like you’re trying to show him what happiness looks like, what mischief and play looks like with your fox-quick and cunning remarks. Like you’re trying to show him how to shed the heavy weight off his shoulders. 

But all he’s thinking about is how if he could, he’d keep you here, where you’re happiest, where you’re safest and warmest and most free. Where you can scream and shout and kick and the whole world doesn’t have to know, just you and him, the ones who love you, and that ferocious wilderness. 

***

He dreams of you that night, in peach light, sugar sweet and soft. You lay him down in the lush grass, the birds sing overhead, flying in circles. Your head is crowned in a wreath of flowers, strung together and tangled into your very being. Your eyes are fever bright when you crawl atop him.

You’re bare and rose-damp, petals sticking to your skin. Your lips are bee-stung and pouting, your nails digging into his shoulders, “Bucky, it hurts.” You whimper, your hips sliding over his. And he can feel you, slick and wanting and aching--

He coos to you, touches your inflamed cheek, brushes a petal from your skin. He thinks you look like one of the old goddesses, when the land was free, his feral spring angel. Burning too bright, too hot. He knows what you need, what he can give you. 

You shudder and your petals wilt and fall and flutter down around him. They rot, and fall apart. You grow pale in color to his eyes, waning before him. 

You lean over him and you’re cold now, shaking, “Are you going to lead me into the cold?” You ask him, soft and shivering. You’re trying to warm yourself but he’s all ice and metal and winter. 

No good for a summer child, for your wild-spring heart. 

“Into death?” You ask, your lips turning blue. He tries to grasp at you, to keep you together. Begs you not to cry, even as your tears freeze to your cheek. But every touch that he gives worsens you, makes you sick and frigid and rotting. 

“You told me to follow you!” You cry, “You took me away and I trusted you!” 

“I-I’m sorry--”

Blooming, brilliant red suddenly slices across your neck. A cut, quick and small, but you--

You start dripping sizzling hot blood onto his bare chest, gagging, choking on your final words, “You were supposed to take care of me!” 

He wakes with a start, a gasp. Nightmares are not new to him. But still, this one shudders through him, makes him curl tight to his pillow, bury his face there and wish he could find peace in the darkness once more.    

***

The bonfire roars, dancing high into the plum evening. You sit between Wanda’s legs, leaning back against her chest, with her arms tight around you. You’re warmed by the flames, content on the quilt you’d brought. Natasha and Sam pass around moonshine in a jar, share it between Bucky and Steve and each other. 

It’s not lost on you that you and Wanda are near the center, surrounded, guarded by the group of Alphas. But they’re in good spirits, and you are, too. An evening of leisure and talking and laughing. You like their kind eyes, you like their attention. You like the way the evening sky begins to bloom into darkened blue, peppering the sky with wonderful stars. 

Which makes you jolt upright, right out of Wanda’s arms, stops her from combing through your hair. “It’s getting late.” You say suddenly, “I need to get home for my father.” 

“I’ll take you back,” Bucky offers, offers his hands to help you stand. His metal one is ungloved, gleaming gold from the flames of the fire. 

You take it easily, slide your hands into his and realize you don’t want to let go. “What about Wanda?” You ask, your fingers brushing his palms. 

“I’ll take her home.” Natasha offers and you look to Wanda, who nods her acceptance as well. Wanda stands then, too. Brushes her cheek and lips to yours in a parting kiss before you are guided by Bucky to his own horse.

He hoists you up easily, even though you don’t need his help. His fingers digging into your waist, palms rough and soft on the curves of you. It makes you flush darkly, just as you tell him, “I don’t need your help.” 

He hoists himself up now, too, settling behind you. He’s a strong presence, warm and sturdy. If you wanted, you could lean back into him, into his muscled chest and arms. You think about what he’d do-- if he’d fit you closer, let you rest while he carried you home. You feel tired, sated and exhausted in a good way. It’d be easy, so easy, to lean back into him. 

Maybe if you were a different girl. 

Regardless, his scent is strong and surrounding you now, pine and evergreen. The hint of metal and lower notes of musk and cotton. It’s a comfort, lulling and soft, whether you want to admit or not.

“I know,” He says, huffs a little, “Just trying to be a gentleman.” 

He kicks his horse into a trot, easy and simple and in the direction of your farm. You’re careful to keep any distance that you can between you two, which is difficult, with his arms around you, holding the reigns. But you lean forward slightly, keep your hands in front of you. 

“I’m not some damsel.” You counter, “I’m not some proper lady you need to be polite with.” You say as you glance back at him, over your shoulder and he’s right there. His nose could brush your cheek, you can see each of his lashes. 

And the moment you’ve said those words, you realize how they might be taken. Heat overcomes you, burns through you. 

“No?” He asks and his eyes have gotten darker, hypnotizing. You should turn back, face forward and try to get your heart to stop beating so hard and quick. 

But you don’t and your eyes glance to his lips, the briefest flash, before you blink, and realize the way he’s looking down at you. Like he’s hungry and waiting, wolf’s eyes, raw and dangerous and ready to sink teeth into the vulnerable place of your neck that would forever then mark you as his. 

Panic seizes through you and you quickly face forward, become hyper aware of the bareness of your throat to him. “No, and I’m not some Omega that’s gonna go all soft for you, either.” You snap, even as embarrassment floods through you, your cheeks and neck growing warm.  Your shoulders raise defensively, as if you could keep him from all those bare, vulnerable parts of you.

Bucky cocks his head slightly, studies the back of your head, your defensive posture. He sighs and shakes his head slightly, the breath fanning onto your nape. He thinks of his dream, of you soft and crawling atop him. And to temper it, he quickly thinks of the rest, of the blood and rot of it all. 

“Never said you were.” He gets out and it’s tight, unsure. He doesn’t know how to talk to you.

“Then don’t--” You start, slam your mouth shut, take in a sharp breath. “Don’t look at me like that.” You hush back and you look over your shoulder at him once more. 

“Like what?” Bucky asks, but he knows and he can smell the pungent flowery scent of you now. He ticks an eyebrow, suddenly curious, suddenly wishing he could just bury his nose in your hair. At your neck. 

“You know what,” You hiss back, but for some reason your scent only gets more honeyed. It emboldens him, then, knowing that you’re not scared of him. Not at all. And it’s just you two and the soft trot of hooves upon the earth. All the world seems to be slipping into sleep, the night creatures stretching, shaking off their sleep to wake. 

“No, I don’t.” Bucky says then, slow, measured, “Why don’t you tell me, honey?” 

You bristle now, though, and even if there’s not a change in your scent, he knows he’s pushing it. 

“I’m not your honey.” You tell him and there’s this little growl in your words, this little temper that really makes his blood pump hot and wild. Some part of him croons, some part of you does, too. 

And he shouldn’t, he absolutely shouldn’t, but he murmurs all low, “But you smell just like it. Like flowers and honey and sticky citrus.” 

Your stomach swoops low, dangerous and tantalizing. Your pupils have gone all wide, like little dark moons that he gets lost in for a moment before he looks back up at the horizon. You don’t know what to say, and he then asks, soft, unsure, “You want me to stop?” His hands tighten slightly on the reigns, the metal one moving slow, one finger at a time. “Say the word and I’ll shut it.” He tells you earnestly. 

You blink again, unsure, dizzy. You know you shouldn’t continue, you know you should snap at him and you want to, but in some new and foreign way. You want to bare your teeth and growl, just not in anger anymore. 

You want him to give chase, to work harder. He’s gotta earn this. 

“No,” You say quietly, and the stars are twinkling down upon you now with all their inferno. And then you say with a little bit of bite, a challenge, “But it’s gonna take more than some pretty words, Barnes.” 

A slight smile curls at the corner of his lips. 

“I don’t know,” He muses now, feeling lighter than he has in ages, feeling like himself finally, “You seemed to like it plenty just now.” 

Your elbow sharply jabs backwards, into his abdomen. He yelps slightly, which turns into this choked little laugh that sets your heart fluttering. That makes you laugh, too.

“Hellcat,” He laughs, hunching close to you, “Wild thing,” He calls you and you finally lean back into it, into that warmth of him,“Sly girl.” He murmurs and his arms settle around your hips more. 

Your farm settles into sight, becoming larger with each moment until Bucky is helping you off his horse, setting you back onto your feet. He walks you to your door, hands respectfully behind his back, ducking his head to show you he’s done playing. And you’re about to turn around, maybe give him another feisty remark, when you notice the front door open once more. 

You stop and Bucky nearly runs into you before he pauses and notices, too. He grows wary, his scent sharpening into metal and winter. Cold. Distant.

Something is wrong. You can feel it down into the horrible depths of you.

And you rush forward before you can think, rush right into the darkness. You shove open the door, let it fly so it slams against the door and the sight before you doesn’t quite register for a moment.

There’s blood; on the floor, on the walls, it’s everywhere, dripping like red oil on the old wood. It’s shining in that hollow moonlight, in the cold, empty starlight. Your eyes trace the trail of it, your heart dropping, stomach rolling painfully until they follow it to the source.

Your father sits in his chair in the kitchen, bent at an odd and horrible angle. His throat is slit, the cut opening up all the innards of his throat. He’s limp and pale and staring endlessly at you with wide eyes, with a wide, crooked mouth that gapes open. Slack and empty and lifeless. 

You stutter, a scream bubbling, clawing its way from deep within your gut and into your throat. It starts as you stumble forward, into the blood, towards him like you might put him back together again. 

But before a sound can even come out, a hand is wrapped tight around your mouth. Bucky’s body is shoved against yours, his other arm coming down hard and quick to band him to you, to drag you backwards. 

“Don’t look,” He’s hissing into your ear, his fingers digging into your cheek, “Don’t look, don’t look, just shut your eyes!” But you’re sobbing behind his hand already and he knows you saw, he knows he didn’t spare you from that trauma. He hushes you quickly, sharply, dragging you backwards because he knows--

He knows who's here. He can feel it the same way he can feel a storm brewing. 

He hauls you, kicking and fighting and sobbing and screaming in his arms back outside. “We need to go,” Bucky says to you, low and repeatedly, trying to get you to hear him through it all. 

“C’mon, c’mon, I’m gonna get you out of here.” He says and he can feel the bone deep sobs of you, feel them splitting his heart, tearing it seamlessly. He can feel his voice getting choked, grinding his teeth together as he says, “I promise I’m gonna get you out of here.” 

And the moment he does, a shadow slithers from somewhere in the house and into the doorway. 

Rumlow’s face is illuminated with a cold cut of moonlight. 

Your sobs turn into howling, into screeches of anger and violence and pain. 

“Barnes,” Rumlow says, “I believe you’re taking what’s mine.” And he leisurely steps onto the porch. He’s covered in blood, your father’s blood, glinting crimson and black in the night. 

Bucky’s eyes go cold and hard, his muscles tighten around you instinctively. But he says in your ear, hard and stern. A command, “Go to the horse. Get out of here. Get to Steve or Sam or Natasha.” 

And then he shoves you in that direction, behind him. He stands between you and Rumlow and you can barely think, can barely get passed the way your body shudders and wracks with more sobs. You breathe hard, ragged, stumble slightly. 

“Go!” Bucky shouts, jarring you, just as Rumlow pulls out a gun. 

You scream again, hands flying to your mouth, just as Bucky rushes forward and collides with Rumlow’s stomach. A shot is fired into the air, loud and cracking and horrible. It misses, somewhere behind you, and then goes clattering onto the ground, skittering through the dirt.

Bucky and Rumlow start grappling, the violence of bare, raw fighting. Of bone to bone, until there’s the sickening crunch of metal on bone. 

You hear it break something in Rumlow, hear him howl before getting a burst of anger, of strength, and shoving Bucky off of him, sending him tumbling hard into the earth. 

You and Rumlow look at the gun at the same time. Then at each other. 

You race for it, fast, nimble, desperate. 

You slide in the dirt, grip it firm in your hand and take aim, fire quick just as Rumlow nears. 

It clips his shoulder. The bang making your teeth sing. Your ears ring. Bucky hauls you up once more, drags you fast to the horse as Rumlow stumbles up, too. But he gets you on the horse, swings himself over, too and doesn’t wait to be situated when he kicks his horse into a gallop. 

He presses on hard and fast, one arm banding tight around you, as if you might fall right off if he doesn’t hold you. 

And he takes you from your farm, from the place you’ve grown up your whole life and leads you into the darkness.

Into the black of night, the shadows you’ve dreamed of, with your stomach sick and your throat shredded raw.