#if you know me you know those are the only 3 agents i will ever have any bit of interest in

[kaiserouo]

headcanon warning

bonus

no he doesn't

[gutsby]

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

[reiderwriter]

♡ Forever Only ♡

Week 3 of my Playlist series

Summary: You thought you wouldn't see him again, at least for a while, but Spencer Reid finds you, and he has questions.

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni. Penetrative sex, voyeurism, fingering, multiple orgasms, semi-protected sex, creampie, almost breeding kink, like if you squint, slight angst, dom!Spencer Reid.

A/N: First smut of the series! This one is based on one of my top songs of 2023, everyone say thank you, Jaehyun, for releasing the closest K-pop is ever going to get to 00s R&B. I hope you all enjoy it 🥰

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Of all the places you'd been where you thought of Spencer Reid and your paths crossing again, you never expected it to actually happen here.

The club was lit so low, so you didn't really expect it to be him, your ex-something, not quite boyfriend, far from nothing, situationship maybe? But there he was.

Not just him, but all of them. The BAU, minus their bosses, were all dancing and drinking at various points around the club, having fun but still being vigilant.

You're surprised you notice him before he notices you, but you're not surprised that it doesn't take him much longer.

You're not exactly here to blend in with the crowd.

The low-cut dress with the lower-cut bust line is already getting as much attention as you'd expected it would, and that doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer as he finally drags his eyes over to the commotion you've made in the corner.

“I don't know you,” you tried to politely explain to the creep who'd blocked you in with one arm. “I'm just waiting for my friend, please leave me alone.”

“Let's have some fun, baby, you, me, that body you're hiding under those scraps of fabric. I'll make you scream, I promise.”

You'd scoffed the first few times he'd made similar remarks, but he was tenacious, and he didn't understand the word “no,” and was vaguely unfamiliar with “leave,” “me,” and “alone” too.

You'd scanned the room for a friendly face and had locked eyes with the man you'd been waiting six months to meet again. Perfect timing.

Of course, he'd picked up on your discomfort and walked your way, and of course, he'd bought back-up.

“Y/N, you should've sent me a text when you got here!” Emily Prentiss expertly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a hug, as the man was forced to let you move.

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked,” you mumbled, still feeling the weight of the creeps gaze on you despite your newly inherited guard dogs.

“Come on over to the table, baby girl, we got bottle service. I'm going big tonight.” You tried to thank Morgan as well, but the smile you sent him didn't reach your eyes as you consciously avoided Spencer's gaze.

“You know these people, babe?” The stranger from behind you put a hand on your waist as he pulled you back a step, leaving you stumbling wide eyed until your back was to his chest, shoulders unconsciously rounding into a protective stance as you tried to shrug hum off.

“For the last time, let go of me. I don't know you, and I don't want to know you. This is your last warning.” You rounded on the man, turned your back to the other three agents, and tried to calm your thoughts to see his next reaction.

“Stuck-up bitch, I said you're coming home with me tonight.”

You made sure his last attempt to grab you was his last attempt to grab any woman as you flipped him onto his back, your fellow agents behind you pulling their guns and handcuffs to helpfully lead him out of his hunting grounds.

You'd hadn't wanted to see Spencer Reid again so soon, and you certainly hadn't wanted to enlist the entire teams help on a serial rape case, but it wasn't your final decision to make.

And honestly, you'd been glad for the help in the take down, with your office so understaffed.

After reading the creep his rights, seizing the date rape drug he'd planned to slip into your drink later that night, and the knives and rope in his card that he was planning to also use on you, you were just thankful that you had all the help you could get.

Now that you were back at the station at 4am, with nothing but aching muscles from handing the nearly 200 lbs man his ass to him on a platters and aching feet from doing it in heels, you wanted nothing else than for the last week to erase itself.

Six months absence from the BAU wasn't long enough to fall out of love with Spencer Reid, and you never thought it would be.

A year was all the time it had taken to fall head over heels for the man, and you'd assumed you could reverse that in the same time, so you'd left.

It wasn't a leave of absence but a strategic departure to a task force in Rapid City, where rape numbers were spiking. You were still doing your job, that was the important part.

You changed into your comfortable clothes in the locker room and grabbed your bag, ready to head out for the night, picking up your keys to head home. You only got two steps out of the room when you ran into him.

“Early start?” He joked, looking at you again with that hesitant half-smile he'd worn the entire week he'd been here.

“Late night.” You replied. It had been a joke you'd developed after so many unusual shifts, so many 3am run-ins where neither of you could find the effort to make actual polite conversation so you'd said the two sentences and sat in amicable silence, often rested against each other as you let exhaustion carry you through the night.

“Can we talk? We're leaving in the morning, and I…” he struggled to find the words, jaw clenching and releasing the way it always did when he couldn't put his emotions into words just yet.

“Sure. But not here. My apartment is a five minute drive.” He nodded and followed you out of the building as you primed your heart to shatter into pieces again.

The drive home was quiet and peaceful, too late for natural traffic, and too early for the morning commute to begin. You made it home in record time and led him inside the apartment you'd chosen.

You flipped the light switch and kept you back to him while you completed your daily routine, trying your best to ignore that he was standing in your doorway. You tried not to be curious about what he could tell about you from the doorway, what the lack of decoration meant, how different it was from that cosy box room three blocks from his apartment, how cold it seemed instead.

So you kept your eyes off him to not have to answer the questions he'd likely have.

“So what did you want to talk about, Spence?” You almost cursed yourself for how easily the nickname slipped from your tongue. You'd heard JJ call him that a few times your first week in the office and assumed it was something everyone used for him. The way he flushed red when you said it the first time was engraved in your head, those first heavy beats of your heart alerting you to oncoming danger.

You grabbed two bottles of water from your fridge and walked back to your living room, where he was still stood taking things in.

“Spencer?” You asked again, holding out the bottle.

He took it with a small smile of thanks, and you led him over to the sofa, urging him to talk again.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“You… you didn't say goodbye.”

You knew this was coming, but you hoped he wouldn't have the courage to ask you the questions you knew were about to arrive at your door.

“I'm coming back in six months, Spencer. I didn't say goodbye because it wasn't going to be goodbye.” You'd turned this excuse over in your brain enough to know it was a weak argument, but you hoped your friendly smile would reassure him.

“You didn't tell anyone you were leaving until you were gone. That hurt a lot.”

“I didn't want to hurt you. Everything was just so fast. I had to take the offer immediately, or they would've moved onto someone else. You understand, right, Spencer?” He sat back, resigned, and nodded again slightly.

But a silence built up as he stared at you, and your hands got all sweaty the way they always did when he paid attention to you. You couldn't just stare everywhere else until he broke the silence again.

“How is Rachel? I haven't heard from her in a while.” You blurted the words under the weight of his gaze.

And you knew you'd said too much in those two sentences.

You'd first introduced Spencer to your college roommate after you realised you were in love with him. You'd spent a year at the BAU, and you thought he felt the same way, too.

You hadn't said anything, but you ate together at his apartment weekly, and you went on outings - dates, you'd thought they were dates - to museums and movies. He'd slept over at your house once, and you'd never felt happier than waking up with his arms wrapped around you.

So, of course, you'd taken him along to a party your friend from college was throwing. You'd nearly introduced him as your boyfriend, and looking back, you were glad Rachel had cut you off before you could.

“Is this the famous Spencer Reid? You're cuter than I thought you'd be.” You saw the flirtatious spark in her eyes, heard her tone, and felt uncomfortable.

You felt even worse when she took his hand and led him off to introduce him to more of your friends without a glance back at you.

For the first hour, you were worried about him, knowing that he never did great in social settings. You contented yourself by catching up with old friends, nursing a glass of wine, and trying not to follow him around the room with your eyes.

You'd given up and sat miserably in the corner for the next hour before you'd decided you wanted to leave. This time you'd had to track him down.

It wasn't that you'd found him in any compromising situation. He was just sat on the couch, smiling and talking to her. But when you said you wanted to go home, and he'd agreed to drive you back, she'd grabbed his hand.

“So Tuesday, 8 pm, right? It's a date." He nodded and said his goodbyes, and you wiped all of the emotion off your face so you didn't break down right there.

He talked to you as he drove back, but you could only nod and hum in response.

You shrugged off his concern as you walked into your apartment alone and let your heart break.

You were in Rapid City the next week.

“Your friend from college? I'm….I'm not sure.” He looked genuinely confused down at you as your lungs capsized in on themselves.

“Oh, right.” You nodded again and forced out a yawn, desperate to get rid of him before he could climb back into your heart again and roost there.

“You didn't keep in touch with her after you moved?”

“We had… a disagreement.” It was a kind way to put what had happened. You'd sent her one text asking her what all of that was at her party, and she'd sent you a paragraph back the day of her date with Spencer calling you pathetic and lonely and jealous. And then she'd blocked your number.

“That sucks. She seemed nice.” You couldn't help but scoff at his words, completely forgetting your plan to ask him to leave. Of course, he thought Rachel was nice. He'd been half in love with her by the end of that party.

“What was that for?” He asked, the words spilling out quickly as his eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing. It's late, Spencer.”

“I don't think it was nothing. Why are you asking me about your friend? Why would I know?” He was on the edge of his seat now, and you needed desperately to put some space between you. You stood up and stretched, moving to clean up a pile of papers you'd left on your coffee table that morning.

“You certainly seemed interested six months ago, Spence. I just assumed there was a second date after that first one. My bad.”

You moved to your kitchen, bit he followed you.

“What do you mean? Y/N?” You weren't listening though, instead organising and cleaning things at a quick pace so your brain didn't have to focus on his question.

“Y/N, look at me. Please.” He stepped closer his chest nearly against your back as his hand found your wrist.

It was involuntary, but you relaxed into his familiar grip, your body finally content, and now it was back in his arms.

“Or don't look at me and just listen to me. I don't know what you're talking about, but I never went on any date with Rachel. I wasn't interested in her like that, I was interested in-” He stopped short, frustration ebbing his voice off as the silent words hung between the two of you.

You finally turned around to look at him, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

He whispered his question again.

“Why didn't you say goodbye?”

“Because my heart was broken, Spencer. Because I took you to meet my friends and I thought I was going to introduce you as my boyfriend, but instead I got ignored the whole night and then you arranged to meet with her and she called it a date. I loved you, I love you and I couldn't say goodbye because then I'd have to hear about it. About how you were happy without me, when I was lonely and broken without you.”

You didn't know you were crying until the tears his your lips. He wiped then away, but they still tasted salty as you licked your lips.

“I didn't come to work for a month,” he confessed. “After you left, I tried to give Hotch my resignation letter. He wouldn't tell me where you went. I came back but it wasn't the same without you.” His forehead rested against yours, noses touching as his words came out barely above a whisper.

“I can't come back, Spencer. Not until I don't feel this way anymore.”

He didn't miss a beat before pressing his lips against yours.

“Don't.” He said between kisses, pinning you against your kitchen counter as he gripped your waist in one hand. You didn't pull away, even as you felt your hot tears flow freely.

“Don't stop loving me. Please.” His voice broke as he pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms tight around your back, pinning your hands to his chest as sobs wracked through your body.

You'd held onto this pain for a year and it was all spilling out now.

He looked at you again and started kissing each tear away, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around him, and he was as close you you as he could possibly be.

“Love me forever. Please.”

You pulled his head away to look at him again, searching for reassurance again that this wasn't going to be one-sided.

“What about you? If I love you forever, which I don't think I have a choice in, how-”

“I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, I will always love you. I don't know how it wasn't clear when I followed you around every second of the day.” He kissed you with each confession, looking angry at himself that he'd never said the words before.

“I asked your friend how I should ask you to be my girlfriend. She had a lot of ideas and said we should meet up and talk about it. I didn't know…” He cursed, not quite as quietly as he'd attempted to. The strangeness of it shocked a laugh out of you, the rumble of it vibrating through your chest. He still held you tightly, but he looked at you again, getting out of his head.

“What's funny?”

“You tried to quit your job to look for me.”

“You moved to South Dakota instead of asking what we were.”

“You kissed me before you told me how you felt.”

“You kissed me back and then you laughed at me.”

“You swore!” You laughed again, and you were sure that he was going to have to put you down this time. You were laughing so much.

Instead he pulled you tighter into his arms and walked out of the kitchen.

“Is this the bedroom?” He asked nodding towards the closed door.

Your laugh quieted at the charged question, until your eyes found his lips as you nodded.

“Good.”

You let him lay you down on the bed before you pulled him in for another kiss, this one more fiery than any you'd shared in the kitchen as he hovered over you on the bed.

“Spencer!” You gasped as his hands trailed under your shirt. You regretted changing out of that small dress now, regretting the amount of fabric between you and him as his hands glided up to your breasts, mouth pressing kiss after kiss into your neck and collarbone.

He nestled his knee between yours and climbed fully over you, pushing your legs open as he showed you where you were going next. You moaned as your back arched into his touch, rubbing yourself against him but still needing him closer.

“I love every sound you make.’ He whispered as his other hand worked its way under the sweatpants you'd thrown on earlier, silently pushing them down your legs as you lifted your hips to help him once again.

His mouth connected with yours again after he got them to your knees, hand pressing flat against your stomach as you finished off the job.

He laid next to you, pulling his lips off your own as you trailed after him. But his eyes weren't on you anymore. You followed his gaze to his hand and watched him slip his fingers under your panties as he began to tease your sensitive parts.

You whimpered slightly as the contact, as he gathered some of your wetness and ran his fingers up and down your sensitive parts.

His lips found your ears. “Just like that. I want to hear you just like that. Whimper for me, Y/N. Beg for me. Let me know how much you want this.”

You gasped as he started rubbing slow even circles around your clit, his body still rolled to the side so he could watch intently the pleasure on your face.

It was near voyeuristic, his eyes focused on your face, the pants of air escaping your lips, the way your nipples had hardened, and had become visible through your shirt.

You hadn't been able to wear a bra with your dress earlier, you wanted to explain, but you couldn't find the words.

“Look at your body reacting to me. You need me to make you feel like this.” He whispered, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss over your clothed nipple. “Right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes Spencer. I need you.”

“Here. Can you feel how much I need you, too?” He grabbed your hand in his free one and pulled it over his erection, instructing you silently on how to hold it and rub it.

“I can feel it, Spencer. Please, please fuck me.” Your voice felt alien to yourself. You'd never had that high of a sex drive before, so you'd never thought you'd ever have to beg for it. But there was something in the tender touch of Spencer's fingers that has you desperate to feel him inside you.

“Do you have condoms?”

“No.”

“Birth control?”

“Yes, yes, please, Spencer. Please, I don't care.” His pace had picked up, his fingers moving slightly rougher than before, but you knew you were close as he kept massaging your sensitive clit.

You knew you were going to cum before you felt him inside you, you knew you'd want to cum again. You were going to be forever insatiable because of this man.

He kissed his way across your skin as he peeled your shirt and his clothes off, leaving your panties for last as he watched you grind your cunt into his fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered In your ear as he stroked his cock, watching your body convulse as you came just at his touch.

He kept his lips close to your ear as he entered you during the throes of your first orgasm, whispering again when he had slid his entire length into you. “And you're mine.”

You were intoxicated by his touch, cum drunk as he began thrusting and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He nipped and sucked at your neck, listening to you moan and whimper as he pulled out and entered you again and again, head thrown back into the sheets of the bed you'd been too eager to climb underneath.

A few minutes of thrusting and he gripped your waist and sat you up on his cock, moving his hands to your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he bounced you steadily on his cock.

“Shit, Spencer, you're…so…deep,” you pulled him in closer, burying your head in his neck as you deafened as embarrassing squeal.

You came again on his cock as he used you like a flashlight, his own pants and groans soundtracking your breathless orgasm.

“That's it, good job, Y/N,” he cooed at you, lowering you back onto your back and thrusting shallowly through your convulsions. When you'd recovered slightly again, he gently pushed your legs up, stretching you so your knees were as far back as they could go, splayed open so they were almost touching the bed.

His forehead rested against yours again as he held you in place, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he snapped his hips into you with long, quick thrusts that had you gasping again for the breath he was forcing out of your lungs.

“I love you. And you are mine.” He said. “I love you, and you are mine.” The words were a mantra to him as he worked himself to the edge.

“Yes, yes, I'm yours. I love you, I'm yours, Spencer.” He came with a whimper, releasing inside of you and collapsing gently into your arms as you readied yourself to hold one another for the rest of eternity.

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

.

.

Part 2

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[adventures-in-mangaland]

I'm going with 10 All Time Classics from the Captain America (MCU) fandom. I mean, they're all classics to me, at least. In no particular order:

1. This, You Protect by owlet

First installment in the Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series, which are all amazing. It's a “Bucky escaping Hydra and rebuilding his sense of self” fic, which he does while spying on Steve. With eventual Avengers Family and a lovely cast of OCs bonding with Bucky in the meantime. It has a very distinctive perspective and writing style; Bucky's in constant internal (and sometimes accidentally external) dialogue with himself, making it hilarious and tragic all at the same time. I love it. I've recently been getting into The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells and this Bucky has a similar sassy-but-vulnerable vibe? Read this if you like that, anyway.

2. The One Who Knows by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

This is a Political Animals AU, in that no-powers Steve is inserted into the Political Animals world and Bucky is TJ. Discusses being outed and depression but is ultimately hopeful. The author is one of my all time faves and has written lots of great stories for this and many other fandoms.

3. Blue Scales by chaya

Steve is a merman AU. He's still Captain America, though. It's crack with heart, I love it.

Best line: "May your scales and your love story be our weird secret forever.”

4. Our Lingering Frost by eyres

AU where Bucky is rescued from Hydra in the 50s (?) and so is around for Steve to be found.

5. Assets Out of Containment by follow_the_sun

It's a classic to *me*, OK? Bucky goes undercover at Jurassic World just as that movie's plot kicks off. They're Hydra dinosaurs! It's just great. Also has a podfic and crossovers with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

6. Not Easily Conquered (series) by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears

Some of the greatest fanfiction I've ever read, the whole series is epic. Anyway, it's a "Steve doesn't go into the ice" AU with added queer angst when (never sent) love letters from Bucky resurface. I particularly like the second installment in the series The Thirteen Letters, which are just Bucky's letters and are insanely well-written.

7. to memory now I can't recall by Etharei

Time travel AU! Featuring post-CATWS Bucky accidentally switching places with CATFA era Bucky.

8. If Wishing Made It So by Leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

Genie!Bucky AU! This author is great at writing AUs with fantasy/genre elements, it was hard to choose. They've also written an excellent werewolf!Steve AU and a horse!Steve AU that I really love.

9. Into That Good Night by Nonymos

An Interstellar AU! Very angsty and tragic but with an eventual happy ending.

10. Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square by Speranza

Speranza must be one of the best writers in the fandom, so it was hard to pick just one of their fics. Other strong contenders were All the Angels and the Saints and The Fifties, so check those out too! But this one has a special place in my heart. Steve, Tony and Natasha accidentally time travel to WW2 London, leading to an accidental run-in with CATFA-era Bucky. The author does tragic and romantic time travel tropes so well, but with a happy ending.

I now realise that most of these are AUs, so here’s a bonus rec for a non-AU in-universe story that’s severely underrated and deserves more love:

+1

Heart, Have No Pity on this House of Bone by Sena

This story follows Bucky in-action in the Pacific Theatre. It’s very well written and, from what I can tell, well researched. Steve only appears in Bucky’s imagination and the story focuses on the horrors of war rather than romance, but it’s gripping! And it explores unrequited love, being closeted and period-typical homophobia, which I also enjoyed. I’m still holding out hope for a sequel.

[thepersonnamedsam]

Hey hun, how are you?❤️ i saw you had only one tim bradford imagine. Can you do one from Tim’s pov where the reader is a part of the crew and she gets hurt during an operation with them and Tim who secretly has feelings for her has to save and protect her? Thank youu. Much lovee 💖💖

thank you so much for your request!

pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader, The Rookie x fem!reader

summery: see request :)

pt. 2

word count: 1.6k

warnings: age gap - reader is a rookie, reader getting hurt, season 3 spoilers, reader getting shot, blood, some swear words

note: enjoy :)) i hope it's something like what you had in mind

masterlist / taglist

It was your last day as a rookie. Chen and West were just as excited as you were. Finally, those days of Tim-Testing, as Lucy likes to call it lovingly, were going to be over. It was sad having to part from Lucy, you two have been riding together with Tim since the start of your rookie days. It wasn’t sure if Tim or Lucy would stay your partner, it had still to be determined. 

As you all sat in the car, Tim spoke up about the elephant in the room; both of your future in the station. “I’m just going to say it, Chen, you don’t have what it takes to be an undercover agent. You don’t have the killer instinct. And you, y/n, I don’t know if you’d make a great detective”, his eyes stayed on the road as you and Lucy looked at each other. “And what do you mean by ‘the killer instinct’?”, Luca was curious, she really wanted to be an undercover agent, so she would take all the help and information she could get. 

“You don’t have what it takes, it’s that simple. You must make your targets your best friends and then, bham, stab them in their backs. You don’t have that.” 

“Okay, uhm, thank you for that. I, uh, really appreciate it. Since we’re on our confessing train, I just wanted to tell you something, before we probably part”, Lucy looked back at you from the passenger seat and winked at you. What exactly was her plan? 

Tim had a confused look on his face. He was thinking the exact same thing as you did; what the hell was Chen’s plan. 

“It’s a little weird with y/n in the car, but when will I ever have this opportunity again. Tim, I like you, and not just a bit, I really like you. And I don’t know what we should do about it, because I feel your connection to me as well.” 

Tim was shocked, Chen liked him? No, this couldn’t be, he didn’t want it to be. Because he had been secretly thinking about you and counting down the days you were officially without a TO. If Chen liked him, what would you think? Did you know and helped her confess her love to him? So many questions were going through his minds, but they immediately stopped, as he heard a loud and annoying laugh. 

Lucy Chen was laughing at him. She was laughing at his shocked face and his horror filled eyes. She was laughing at him how genuinely confused he looked and how his body tensed up immediately. 

“Chill, Bradford. I was just joking. See, I do have your killer instinct”, Lucy said tauntingly to him. All while you were snickering to yourself on the backseat. His eyes found yours through the rear mirror. “And what are you laughing about?”, Tim’s look changed from shock to a cute smile. He couldn’t stop himself, as he saw you giggling all by yourself. 

You instantly stopped laughing: “Nothing, I was just looking for potential crime.” Tim smiled; sure, you were. 

Time went by, calls were answered, and crime was stopped but nothing interesting really happened. It was your last day as a Rookie, you wanted to have one more day of supervised action, oh, how you wished you could have taken that statement back. Because as soon as that AMBER-Alert came in, chaos erupted. 

An infant was missing, the drug-addicted and known criminal father was suspected. But as you three arrived at his appartement, the baby was not there. What he did have was a gun. You didn’t see it, but Tim did. It was too late to warn you, so as you tried to calm him down, he took his gun and shot you right through the stomach.

You fell to the ground.

Pain shooting through your whole body.

Your eyes closed, feeling like you were dying. 

Tim saw the whole thing in slow-motion, he saw the bullet rip through your body. He saw your body hitting the ground. He saw as your eyes rolled back into your head and he saw the life leave your body. Fuck – he was scared. What if you died? He would never be able to tell you his feelings. 

As Tim stood there frozen, Lucy arrested the man. She read him his rights and stored him away in the car. As she came back, she expected Tim to be performing first aid, but he still stood there, stuck, and frozen to the ground. So, she rushed to you, put pressure on the wound, you didn’t react – not a good sign. 

“For god’s sake Tim, would you do something?! Call for backup!”, Lucy was screaming. Tim snapped out of it, seeing his love hurt on the ground, he had to do something. He called for backup, and he rushed to your side. Taking your hand into his, squeezing it and hoping you would feel it. 

Lucy saw him holding your hand, wondering why he would do such a thing, it was Tim after all. The ambulance soon arrived and transported you to the hospital, all whilst you still were unconscious. Tim rode with you to the hospital, refusing to leave you alone. 

And as you laid there in a hospital gown, eyes closed and a tube down your throat. The bullet hit your large intestine and cause internal bleeding. You were stable after surgery, but the doctors didn’t know how long you had to stay in a coma. That’s why Tim was sitting at your bedside day and night. He had taken some vacation days to stay there with you, in hopes you would wake up soon. 

“I know you probably won’t hear this or me or anything basically, but I just have to let it out. If you die and I have waited too long to tell you, I don’t know what I would do with myself.” His cheeks were stained with tears. He had not cried in a long time, so him crying over you, just showed how much he actually cared about you. 

“I like you, no, I love you. I have for a long time. And I have not had the guts to tell you, because I didn’t want the others to think you only graduated because you were dating your TO. I wanted to tell you this evening, but this motherfucker ruined my plan.” 

Silence grazed your room. The only thing you could hear was the machine monitoring your heartbeat. A steady rhythm was heard, peep, peep, peep. His head spun. He thought after he confessed his love, you might wake up, miraculously of course. But you didn’t. You were still lying there with no reaction to his words whatsoever. 

Days had gone by, and you still didn’t wake up. It was hard for Tim, you technically graduated from being a rookie. Chen, West and Nolan all came by that same evening to celebrate a little, Nolan of course celebrated you and his other two friends, him not graduating that day hurt him a little bit. Lucy also came by every other day too. She sat there with Tim, still wondering why he was sitting there every day and waiting for you to wake up. 

Tim had to leave you alone. His work called and he had to back to being a police officer. It hurt him, not knowing when you would wake up. So, when he got the call from the hospital, his siren was on, and he sped to you. Walking slowly and nervously to your room, he wondered if you heard what he said. If you knew that he loved, you. 

As he stood there, leaning in the doorway, and looking at you, you slowly opened your eyes. Looking at him, him lightly smiling at you, you were thinking back to the day it all happened. You always liked him but were always too scared to tell him. Not knowing he felt the same way, you laid there awkwardly and waited on him to say something. 

“I’m glad you woke up”, he said. He smiled, his concern for you leaving his body. Walking towards you and sitting down you your bedside, he looked at you. He looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t believe it. Some snippets from the coma came to your mind. “I like you, no, I love you.” No, this can’t be true, Tim would never be this sentimental. 

He took your hand in his, squeezing it hard. “Is it true you like me?”, a grin prominent on your face. A crimson color was faintly seen on his face. He was blushing! “You heard?”, he wasn’t sure if he liked that you knew. On one side he was glad, because he wouldn’t have to confess his love to you, again, on the other hand, how would he proceed? 

“I don’t like you”, he looked at you with some kind of desire in his eyes, “I love you.” 

The beeping sped up; your heart was racing.  “I love you too”, you said and squeezed his hand back. And as if planned, West and Chen walked through the door, they had heard that you woke up over the radio and as they rode together, they had decided to pay you a visit. Tim stood up from the bed, having to let go of your hand. 

“How are you? I’m so glad you woke up!”, Lucy smiled and gave you a hug, the same did Jackson. You were glad your friends were here, but you’d rather be alone with Tim right now. Having just confessed your feelings to one another, you just wanted to spend some alone time together. 

“I’m good, thank you so much for stopping by, I appreciate you all!” 

Tim had watched the interaction from the doorway. He smiled lightly, seeing you happy made him happy. A warmth spreading through his body, he was content. 

°°°

next part

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author's Note: This chapter is a tad shorter, my apologies. I almost didn't finish it cause my meds started to make me feel real gross tonight, but I managed! I am determined and powerful and strong 💪

Cross posted on AO3

Session 4: Adding Details

Ever since the last painting session with Leon a few days ago, he's been a lot more lively. He jokes more, laughs more, and flirts a lot more. Specifically with you.

It's only been a couple hours into the next session and he's already called you 'sweetheart' five times. You counted. Hard not to when the man decides to put on the most seductive tone to say it, honestly.

You've begun to reciprocate Leon's flirting since clearly he's not one to hide what he's after.

"Alright Romeo, I need you to stay still and in position for just a few minutes longer. I don't think you want me to accidentally paint you with those goo-goo eyes." Watching his poorly hidden panic made you giggle, his eyes averting to somewhere to the right. "Actually I need you to keep your eyes up here, not over there."

Leon groaned and rolled his eyes before turning them to look back at the spine of the easel, doing his best to hold a lax expression. "You're making this difficult. You have the picture!" He complained, eyebrows raising as he gestured to the stand sitting next to you.

"Yeah but- sit still- you're making the same goofy look in it like you were before." Once he resumed his position, you walked over to him from the easel to get a closer look at his expression, humming softly all the while. Leon was beginning to sweat, mostly due to having to sit still for as long as he had but now partially from your sudden proximity.

After getting a good look, you walked back over to the easel to continue painting, to which he let out a small sigh. He wanted to get to know you more, he should've tried that before you started the actual painting, but better late than never.

The man kept quite for roughly thirty minutes longer while you added smaller details to his face on the canvas, using probably the thinnest paintbrush he's ever seen.

"Is that thing even adding paint to the portrait? Or are you just pretending to get me to sit here longer?" There was that suggestive tone again, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you as they began to strain, but you could've swore he did that cheesy eyebrow wiggle at you.

You shook out your arm to give it a good stretch before placing it back where it was. "It's doing something. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Leon threw his head back with a laugh at your response, causing you to give him a quick glare before huffing out your annoyance. "Alright, clearly you're growing antsy. Let's take a short break." You stood up from the swivel chair and rolled your shoulders back, cleaning off your paintbrush with the solvent sitting next to you in a small mason jar. You had a couple of the windows open due to the fumes of the paint and solvent, so no worries there.

"Thank god..." Leon stood up with a loud and exaggerated groan. He wasn't young anymore, holding even a relaxed position like that was hard work on the body. "Thought I was gonna lose my legs." The dramatics this man possessed was funny, you had to admit.

"It's not that bad and you know it." You set down the paintbrush and turned around to see him mocking you with his hand. "Do I need to circle back to calling you a toddler? Cause I will."

Leon used the hand he was mocking you with to wipe across his eyebrow before letting his arm fall back to his side. "There's no need for extremes." Your lazy eyebrow raise at his response was all he needed to immediately follow up with "Sorry, ma'am."

It didn't sound genuine, but you'll take it. You nodded before walking over to the bathroom, scrubbing the paint from your hands to the best of your abilities. You had to use dish soap since oil paint was hard to wash off, that oily sheen was a pain in the ass when trying to hold a paintbrush.

The painting was really starting to come along. You worked fast while still remaining diligent. Oil paints were difficult to use, needing extreme patience due to how slowly it dried, how easily it could smear, and how hard it was clean off. No matter how nice you wanted to dress for Leon, you had to wear your painting outfit: A designated cheap and oversized outfit you picked out years ago for the sole purpose of taking a beating. You would wipe off your paintbrushes onto it to avoid having to use a paper towels or a rag each time.

Regardless, you were still as cute as ever to Leon. In fact, seeing you care so much about your work to be covered in paint was only making him fall for you more. Oversized clothes looked real good on you, so good that he'd been busy thinking about how you'd look in his clothes, hence that nearly blissed out expression you had to snap him out of earlier.

You both decided to sit over in the living area, Leon splayed out across the soft rug to give his joints a rest. He'd gotten a good look at how the painting was coming along before assuming his spot on the rug.

It was non-stop compliments from him. You could handle compliments, you've heard so many over the years regarding your art, but Leon's compliments were different. Instead of only complimenting the art, he decided to slip in little comments about you directly along side them.

"I went back to the White House over the weekend to look at the other portraits you'd done..." He started, head resting on his arms as they laid behind his head. "Just to get a feel for how mine would look once it's done."

"Is it living up to the standard so far? There's quite a bit more that needs to get done, and then it has to dry." You looked down at him on the rug, massaging your hand so it didn't cramp up more than it already had. "There's no standard for you to live up to, sweetheart. You could draw a stick figure and I'd be blown away."

You laughed at the suggestion, turning your head to look out one of the large windows to try and hide your smile. Wooing a painter was easy, apparently.

"You're just full of little accolades, aren't you, Mr. Kennedy?" You sighed, resting your chin in your hand as your elbow sat on your thigh.

"I can't help it. Being painted by such a pretty girl brings out the worst in me." Never in all your years of being alive had someone worked so hard to flatter you. Every single comment he made included something that had you flustered and struggling to respond.

Leon sat up on his elbows and looked over at you, that smirk as clear as day. He loved the way you could barely handle yourself at his compliments. "What're you thinkin' 'bout over there, angel?"

You let your hand fall into your lap as you looked back at him, giving his smirk a soft smile in return. "I could ask you the same question, calling me all these nicknames and such." It was only fair of you to ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

A little caught off guard, Leon hummed and pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. What was he doing, exactly?

"Well, whaddya think I'm doing?" Yeah, that was good. Instead of answering himself, he'll just drag it out of you. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're flirting with me." Your smile turned a bit more mischievous as you leaned towards him.

"Well, you'd be absolutely right, then." He responded with a chuckle, lowering his volume so he could fall right back into a seductive tone. "I got lucky enough to get my own painting. Even luckier to have you be the one painting me."

You gave him a small "mhm" as you nodded your head slowly, your tongue peaking out to wet your bottom lip as you listened to him talk. It took awhile, but eventually you managed a reply. "So... what exactly are you looking to do with all that sweet talk, hm?"

"Take you out on a date." His response was fast and it caught you off guard. Leon was so forward with what he wanted. When it came to the few people you'd dated in the past, you had to practically drag any sort of info from them. Your silence had brought him to sit all the way up now, body facing you as he sat with his legs crossed. "Is it working at all?"

It took a couple more seconds for you to nod, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you giggled. "Yeah, I think it is. Might need to keep it up just in case, though."

"Bummer, now I get to distract you even more while you paint me?" You stood up and placed your hand flat on his face, gently pushing his head back as you walked past him. "I'll paint on you if you distract me."

The session lasted a total of five hours, pausing for a couple breaks in between. You were now thoroughly painted out; hand cramping, eyes straining, and even with the windows open the smell of the paint and the solvent to clean it off the brushes had given you a slight headache. Leon was definitely tired also, given he actually fell asleep in the chair.

You decided to call it a day at that, patting him on the shoulder to wake him. "Time to get up and take your meds, old man." Leon startled awake, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose as he reoriented himself. When did he fall asleep?

You had already walked into the bathroom to wash your hands off, giving him the opportunity to wake up enough to stand. He yawned, walking over to look at how far along you'd gotten.

The painting immediately pulled him from his sleepy state, eyes widening with shock. You said you still had quite a bit left to do and it looked like this? It was like you'd ripped this straight from the 17th century. Leon was in awe. He looked good in this- no, far better than good. You'd captured his likeness better than the photo.

Seeing the man staring at your painting with his jaw dropped after walking out of the bathroom made you smile. "You like it?" You asked quietly while shaking your hands out as you hadn't dried them off all the way.

"No, I love it. You've got magic in those hands of yours, sweetheart." Leon crossed his arms, walking over to stand right in front of you. You clicked your tongue at him before your hand in front of him dismissively. "I wouldn't say it's magic, just years of drawing and painting endlessly until I got to the spot I wanted to be."

Leon closed his eyes and shook his head playfully, chuckling as he did so. "So humble of you." He followed you back over to the easel, watching you cover up the paints you were using with curious eyes. "About that date..."

You cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continued to carefully cover your paints. "What about it?"

"Just wondering when and where you'd want to go." The man grinned at you lazily, doing his best to disguise how nervous he actually was. "Hmm.." You glanced over at the wall clock you had sitting far above the light switches next to the entrance door, taking note of how late it was. "I'm pretty tired and I'm sure you are too, but how about we order something to eat here?"

Leon seemed surprised by your suggestion, grin widening as he nodded vigorously. "Plus, I am not going out looking like I just got assaulted with a paintball gun."

The two of you decided on something easy; pizza and soda. Leon opted to wear one of your many aprons to avoid getting any grease on his suit which made for an easy joke about him being a house-husband. Even though it was a technically a first date, both of you felt so comfortable with each other already, like you'd known each other for years. It was strange, but in a good way.

Leon was easy to get along with once he opened up. He really was a charming guy, even managing to get you to laugh with those corny ass dad jokes he loved so much. How such a man had gotten away with being single for so long baffled you.

The same went for you. Leon felt like you being single was just a fluke. There was no way someone as talented and gorgeous as you hadn't been swept off your feet yet. It was selfish of him for thinking it, but fuck was he ecstatic about that.

It was about 11pm when the two of you decided to call it a night, the hours spent bonding over random, seemingly meaningless stuff had really loosened both you and Leon up.

"Am I able to come back tomorrow and see you?" Leon asked in such a soft voice, motorcycle helmet in hand as he the other rested up against the doorway leading out of the building. He felt vulnerable for wanting to see you again like this.

"I won't be here tomorrow, need to give my hands a bit of a break." You giggled quietly, holding your palm out in front of him for emphasis. "But I can give you my address if you want to visit. I don't mind."

Those butterflies in his stomach fluttered at your proposal, barely able to nod after feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket once you texted him your address. He tried to act confident, having gone over every scenario possible in his head, yet you'd gone off script and he wasn't quite sure what to do anymore.

Seeing how flustered he'd become, you waved him closer, smiling as he bent over slightly. Leon thought you were gonna whisper something to him, that thought alone had him blushing, but feeling the gentle press of your lips against his had him struggling to breathe. He barely had a chance to react before you pulled away, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

You reached up and gently patted his cheek, running your hand along the stubble that had started to grow back. "Let me know when you wanna come over tomorrow, alright? Give me a little time to get dressed. I've looked ratty enough around you."

Leon wanted to protest that statement, you were far from ratty, but you just shushed his stuttering and nudged him out the door, giggling as he stumbled down the steps. He kept turning his head back to look at you every couple steps, feeling like some lovesick teenage boy who couldn't get his feet to work.

He was a little scared to drive home considering how uncoordinated he felt, but he made it back in one piece. Once sat on his bed, all he could think about was you and that damn painting. Leon didn't know what he was expecting when it came to that, honestly, but you seriously outdid yourself in his eyes.

Then you just had to flirt back with him, agree to a little date, and kiss him? Do you even know how hard it was to hide his boner from you?

He really did feel like a teenage boy, a simple kiss having him harder than a rock. Not to mention the drive home was uncomfortable since he had to position himself just right on the seat or else the constant vibration from his motorcycle would seriously cause him to crash.

Leon was weak. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time, but he guessed the newfound attraction came with the subconscious acceptance of his retirement. It's what made sense in his head.

God did he want you, masturbating in the shower to you wasn't enough, he needed you. All he could think about was your soft hands touching him, his hands all over your body, maybe even those pretty eyes of yours looking into his as he loved on you all night long.

The age gap was a bit of a worry to him in the beginning, mostly being insecure about his own age, but that worry was quickly brushed off when you kissed him tonight. You were a big girl. You knew what you wanted.

Leon felt so lucky that you reciprocated. All he'd felt since his retirement was grief, guilt, and pity for himself. Now you had him feeling like he was on top of the world and he couldn't ask for anything more. This little bit of sweetness in his life was so enticing, and of course he was going to follow it for as long as you'd let him.

[sunvmars]

tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

[lucrativesoul]

even this big, tough man can still get jealous sometimes when he looks at you. how could he not?

Leon and jealousy is an interesting mix. As his partner, nothing had ever been done on your part to make him jealous, but that’s the type of lover he is. He’s always worrying that any interaction you have with someone else could be you finally (in his mind) changing your mind on who an ideal partner would be.

It could happen over him thinking about you at work, thinking about you running errands on your own, and even when you both are out together and he catches stares from other people. He knows you never look, but his chest still gets that weird little tight sensation.

He seems like the type to become jealous over tiny things, especially things happening in his own mind. He wouldn’t make it your problem, but it unfortunately affected the way he acted.

Leon wouldn’t tell you straight up, as he probably sees his jealousy as a little embarrassing for him. He logically knows there's no reason for it, yet, why is he feeling like this?

At night, if something had happened while you were both out, he would definitely become quiet, still trying to be affectionate, feeling guilty because he knows there’s nothing going on, but you notice the way he’s a lot more quiet than usual. (“Are you tired already? You’re quiet.” “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”) Vague, that’s his method.

Leaving you home while he worked and had to go away for a while would definitely have his heart racing, but nothing too serious that he would have to accuse you of anything. His jealousy is lowkey, but only over imagining fictitious scenarios of things that might be going on while he isn’t there.

Out to dinner one night, he took a little too much notice of the waiter and his lingering eyes. He powered through the meal for your sake, and it seemed it worked as your mood was consistent through the night. The ride home, though, he was quiet again, and you picked up and forced him to come clean. (“Leon, what’s going on? Are you alright? Just tell me.” “I didn’t like the way the waiter was looking at you. I was right there.”) A tightly-knit cuddle session was in order after his confession and your words of reassurance, and you had to hide your smile at the blush that was starting to form on his cheeks.

The older you two got, he grew out of becoming jealous over his overthinking, but real life scenarios still presented themselves to him, and by now, you always knew his signs. He loved showing you off at work events, even though there were a few occasions that had him stiffening up. (“No, Leon, I don’t think your new younger coworker is hot. Yes, I know you didn’t say that but you didn’t have to. Why would I go for a rookie when I have my big strong agent man?”) A bear hug is all that is needed for both of you to soothe those conversations for a while.

a/n: thank you so much for 400 followers (and almost 500 now)!! here's a little jealousy blurb cause when will it be my turn to have a man love me this much *sob* working on ideas for my next fics for you all <3 my ko-fi!

[buckyalpine]

Wait, what?

Bucky x pregnant reader 

A/N: My first request ever from @slutforsexyseabass this made me so happy, I LOVE concepts like this. Such a sucker for hidden relationships, I hope I did this justice, I will 100% rewrite this if you imagined it differently. I loved this concept SO much, I wrote this with three different endings. What the hell is wrong with me? Everything :) Cutest concept ever, thank you for this. Please like, comment and reblog <3 

Warnings: Angst and fluff!! Pregnancy, swearing Word count: 3.9k  (I’m so sorry, i just kept adding each time I imagined the ending differently) 

Back story + baby Barnes (sort of part 2?)

I do (again) part 3?

4 months ago

“Are you sure you want this?”

You sighed, having spent the last hour trying to convince Fury to let you transfer to a desk job. Granted, it was an odd request coming from you because you loved your role as an Avenger and you had sworn you wouldn’t leave the job for anything else.

“Is there a specific reason you want to transfer agent?” He gave you a pointed look, clearly insinuating he already knew why you wanted this transfer.

“I-its for the best, at least for a little while” You fiddled with a pen on his desk, looking all around the room, avoiding eye contact. Fury nodded, you knew he knew.

“Alright. I’ll approve it. You understand when you transfer, visits and interactions with your teammates are not permitted under any circumstances. How does 1 year and 9 months sound?”

Your face heated up, as you chuckled, nodding. “It sounds perfect. Thank you” You made your way to the door with your transfer starting immediately.  

“Congratulations Agent. To you and Mr. Barnes”  

Present

“I miss y/n” Sam poked at the flavorless oatmeal in front of him, annoyed there were no longer fresh muffins to eat first thing in the morning. The baking habit you picked up at 3:00AM when you couldn’t sleep was sorely missed. “I only bothered to get out of bed for those fluffy chocolaty babies”

“Well I lost my venting and shopping partner” Nat huffed; she’d managed to drag Wanda along occasionally but it wasn’t the same. Plus venting was boring when the person can already read your thoughts.

“I know what you’re thinking” Wanda playfully glared at Nat, “I didn’t even get to say bye to her, she just packed her things and left the day she was transferred”

“I didn’t get to see her either, we were on a mission and all I got was a message from Fury saying she’s moving to the upper floor in SHIELD” Tony tried not to show it but he was the most upset over you leaving. You brought the team together and without you there, it felt like a piece was missing.

“Yeah it’s not the same without her” Steve said as the rest of the team hummed in agreement, all sharing little moments they shared with you and how they wished you were back. Well, everyone except Bucky.

“What about you Buck?” Sam looked over to the silent super soldier, who was sipping his black coffee, sans his favorite chocolate chip muffin. “I know you at least miss the muffins, who doesn’t”

“I guess? I ate them if they were there but I can still get out of bed without them bird brain” Bucky went back to his coffee while Tony cocked his head, unable to understand how Bucky didn’t seem to care, but in all fairness, the both of you never really interacted much outside of missions.

“C’mon cyborg, is there not one thing you miss about her?”

Bucky shook his head shrugging, “We talked during missions but I didn’t have any connection with her, we never talked that way”

“Makes sense, you’re always holed away in your room like a hobbit- Ow!” Sam smirked, earning a smack from Steve. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you missed out, she’s a sweet heart” Nat got up from her seat making her way to the gym, “Oh, and I lost my sparring partner!”

***

“Bucky’s down, I need back up on the east side of the base” Steve shouted into the coms, panic rising in his chest, his own energy depleting. The rubble from the destroyed Hydra building was becoming more and more difficult to move as he tried to get to his best friend.

“C’mon Buck,” He panted, throwing off blocks of concrete, seeing the glint of Bucky’s metal arm underneath. The dust clouded his lungs as he heaved, a sudden blast from the sky easily turning the concrete into dust. Tony quickly cleared the area as Sam and Steve pulled Bucky from beneath.

“FRIDAY check his vitals”

“Scanning, vitals unstable, Mr. Barnes has experienced head trauma, 3 fractured ribs, severe blood loss, 3 open wounds to the abdomen. His blood pressure continues to drop”

“Shit, FRIDAY, alert the MedBay to be on standby, 1 hour” Tony and Sam managed to carry Bucky off to the jet and Steve trailed behind, his heart racing having already lost Bucky once. The medical team quickly whisked him away as soon as the jet landed, applying pressure to the wounds and hooking him up to machines, struggling to revive him.

“He’ll be okay” Sam squeezed Steve’s shoulder reassuringly, walking him over to an infirmary to get patched up, unsure of his own words.

***

The team sat around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions as they waited for the doctor to give them an update.  They’d all had their fair share of bad injures and near death experiences though Bucky had never been injured this badly thanks to the serum. This time was different. Steve’s head shot up as soon as he heard the surgery doors open, running to the doctor as she approached them.

“How is he?”

“Well, his vitals are stable now. He’s awake and we’ve moved him to the recovery ward but he’s going to have to sit out on missions for a while. The serum will take care of the minor scars and fractures but it’ll take some time for the other injuries. He got lucky you were able to get him here in time”

“Can we see him?” Steve was well aware that patients weren’t allowed visitors unless they were family, especially if they were still just recovering but he felt like his head was going to explode. The team was the closest thing he had to a family. He noticed Dr. Cho’s hesitation, his eyes pleading with her, “Please? Just to know he’s okay?”

 Dr. Cho smiled shaking her head, “I told him to rest but he said you’d probably be worried sick. Don’t stay in there too long, he has to rest. The adrenaline is keeping him up for now”

Steve entered the room fist, with the team behind him, breathing a sigh of relief seeing a tired and injured but alive Bucky slightly propped up on the bed. Bucky blinked, his vision fuzzy as his eyes focused on Steve, Sam, Tony and Nat.

“Hey pal” Steve sat in the chair beside the bed, swallowing thickly when he saw the gashes that covered his arm and the bandages that wrapped around his torso. “How do you feel?”

Bucky mustered a small smile, hardly able to speak from exhaustion. “Like shit”

“You look like shit” Sam mused from the side, “Glad you’re okay Buck”

Bucky smirked, nodding, his eyes heavy from the pain medication.

***

You ran down the hall as best as you could, your heart racing, tears blurring your vision. You slowed down for a moment to catch your breath, a hand suddenly coming from behind to support you making you gasp.

“It’s just me; you know you shouldn’t be running right now, here sit down for a moment”

Dr. Cho smiled softly, leading you to a seat, giving you a chance to slow your breathing down. She got up for a moment, coming back with a glass of water and handing you a tissue, letting you sip slowly and dry your tears.

“I-I h-have to see him” You took a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring on your finger, your voice cracking.

“I know, but you have to take it easy too, stress isn’t good for you right now, I promise everything went well. He’s out of surgery and recovering. He’s got a number of visitors in there, I’m going to see how he’s doing and then I’ll come get you, okay?”

You nodded; your breathing had steadied but your heart continued to race, you wouldn’t be able to relax until you saw him, his blue eyes; home and your safe place.

Dr. Cho entered the recovery room, checking on Bucky’s heart monitor and blood pressure before turning to him. She spoke lowly though she knew it would be useless in a room full of avengers who had enhanced hearing and lip reading capabilities.  

“Mr. Barnes, you have one more visitor” Bucky smiled softly, his heart fluttering causing the heart monitor line to jerk up and down, beeping suddenly. “I can ask everyone to leave if you want your privacy?”

Bucky shook his head, everyone there was family. It was time they knew. “No, let them stay”

Steve sat up, wide eyed, watching the heart monitor scream as Bucky’s heart continued to race. Dr. Cho patted his shoulder, hiding a smile as she walked out to get you. “He’s okay”

Steve sat back in his chair breathing out a sigh of relief, sitting back up again as he registered Dr. Cho’s words. “Wait, one more visitor?” He looked at Bucky for an answer but the super soldier looked down at his hands instead, cheeks flushed, hoping to hide the mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Another visitor, who else is there, you got a secret wife?” Tony smirked, his brow quirked with curiosity. Those closest to Bucky were already there so who else would come to visit him?

“Baby” You walked through the doors, rushing straight for Bucky, gently cupping his face in your hands, placing feather light kisses all over his cheeks. You stroked his forehead as he leaned into your touch, kissing your palm and using the bit of strength he had to pull you to sit on the bed with him.

“Hey babydoll” Bucky looked at you with heart eyes, his hand caressed your face, wiping away some of the tears that rolled down your cheek. “Shh, I’m okay bubba”

“Babydoll? Did ya’ll just hear that, he said babydoll right? That’s y/n, who is babydoll” Sam was sure he’d need the heart monitor next, leaning against the wall for extra support.

“What the hell is happening” Tony’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates unsure if he was experiencing sympathy head trauma, unable to comprehend a thing that was going on.

“I was so worried about you Bucky” You nuzzled against, him breathing in his scent as you placed your hand on his chest, his steady heart beat relaxing your nerves.  

“I’m okay baby, I promise” Bucky kissed your forehead before resting it against yours; nothing else mattered in that moment.  Except for the fact that everyone was staring at you both. The team stood wide eyed, jaws on the floor as Bucky held you close.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here? Did Thanos snap his fingers, did I end up in a different timeline, Tony I told you to let the wizard take care of it- ow!” Tony flicked Sam’s ear, his eyes still glued to you and Bucky. Steve and Nat looked at each other hoping the other would have answers but both looked equally lost.

“Did you…?” Nat whispered, nodding her head towards you both as Steve shook his head, smiling watching his best friend deep in love. Bucky continued to gaze at you, the rest of the world nonexistent when you were with him.

“How’s my little peanut?”

Nat gasped as Bucky brought his hand to your little baby bump, his hand resting on your tummy rubbing small comforting circles to soothe you. You heard a whimper from the corner, as Sam tried to discreetly dab his eyes on Tony’s shirt.

“You okay there bird brain?” Bucky smirked, his hand lacing with yours on top of your tummy, the ring on your finger glinting, catching Tony’s attention.

“Okay, now can you tell us what going on?”

“I guess I should introduce you to the team then?” Bucky looked at you as you nodded, snuggling against him biting your lip nervously.

“How hard did you hit your head Buck, we know y/n” Sam’s voice cracked watching you giggle, your face glowing as you smiled at the team. Bucky squeezed your hand in his, his heart racing again as he spoke.

“This is my wife, y/n Barnes”

The team stood in silence, taking a moment to let Bucky’s words register before they leapt towards you as carefully as they could, making sure they didn’t crush you or Bucky in their gigantic hug. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as congratulations poured out, each person reluctant to let go of you. Nat squealed at your growing tummy, as you brought her hand to feel the tiny flutters kicking inside.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Sam shook his head, his eyes glassy as they landed on your baby bump “Is that why you transferred? Also you two have SO much explaining to do. When, how, where, what the hell?! Look at this man; did you ever think you’d see terminator give someone heart eyes?”

Bucky snorted as you shook your head giggling; you figured you’d have to explain yourself at some point. “We started dating 4 years ago actually, a little after he moved into the compound-”

“Hang on, you guys were already dating 4 years ago?”

“Surprised you didn’t know Tony, should have checked your security cameras more often” Bucky snickered wiggling his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes, pinching him.

“Anyway, Bucky didn’t want to tell anyone about us because he was worried Hydra would come after me if they knew. We got married 2 years ago in Louisiana-”

“WAIT, BUCKY, STEVE AND I WENT TO LOUISIANA TOGETHER, when did this happen?!”

Bucky winced, trying to stop the fit of giggles that had taken over as Sam and Steve stared at each other then back to Bucky.

“Y/n came too. I got her to stay at a hotel nearby, you guys insisted on going sightseeing so…” Sam’s eyes widened as he connected the dots, “Yeah, no wonder you were so chipper to stay back home, unbelievable”

“We got married by the lakeside the day before you guys left for New York again. Just me and Bucky” You smiled softly as you remembered the soft white dress you wore, the way Bucky looked in his suit, the soft kiss that sealed you both together.

“Wait, where’s your ring punk” Steve couldn’t place what he was feeling, his emotions running a mile a minute as he pieced together why Bucky had made so much progress over the past few years. Bucky pulled out his dog tags that were set under a few of his things on the table; a simple gold band hung around the chain.

“I moved to a house after I transferred, figured we’d need more space since our little one will be here soon. I planned on coming back a year after the baby’s born. We really wanted to tell you guys but we figured this was the safest option”

The team nodded understandingly, as you stroked Bucky’s hair lulling him to sleep. He rested against you, keeping his hand on your tummy. Steve looked away trying to mask his sniffles as a cough before turning back to you again.

“How did you guys see each other after you moved?”

“Bucky comes by when he goes for his run, sometimes he comes in the middle of the night, especially if I’m baking or weekends, I see him almost every day” You grinned, thinking about how you felt like a rebellious teenager every time Bucky snuck by to steal a kiss or snuggle with you for a while before having to return to the compound.  

“Really punk? So that’s where you would go missing? To see y/n?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow as Bucky opened one eye, nodding and smiling softly before nuzzling back to you.

“THAT’S WHY YOU DIDN’T MISS HER MUFFINS!”

Bucky snorted, his eyes remaining closed, “Yeah, you jealous Tweety bird?”

“I’m happy for you both, I haven’t seen him happier in years and it makes sense now” Steve held you, kissing your head, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.  

“I can’t believe you guys managed to keep this under wraps” Tony shook his head, his mind wandering to expanding your old room to accommodate a baby room as well.

“Well Fury knows and Dr. Cho. I really only trust her so I came to her as soon as I found out, being a super solider baby and all” “Fury doesn’t count he knows everything, probably knows when Capsicle took a shit last”

“Language”

You giggled, looking down at Bucky who was snoring softly into your chest his hand still wrapped protectively around your belly. The team whispered their goodbyes, giving you gentle hugs, allowing you to have some privacy. You closed your eyes, as you began to fall asleep with the one person who would do anything to keep you safe; your home and safe place.  

Alternate ending ii

The team had made their way to the MedBay after Bucky had been moved from surgery. Steve swallowed thickly as he saw Dr. Cho, hoping his best friend would be okay.

“Can we see him now?”

“Mr. Barnes has a visitor, just family is allowed right now Mr. Rogers” She smiled sympathetically as Steve’s face dropped “In a few minutes I’ll check on him. If he’s okay, you can visit him for a while but he has to rest”

Steve silently nodded, his brows furrowed as he wondered who else would visit Bucky. As far as he knew, the team was the closest thing to family Bucky had left.

“Family? Did she just say family?” Sam looked over to an equally confused Tony as they sat down in the waiting room.

“Bucky has family?” “Not that I know of…” Steve continued to wrack his brain as the minutes passed, his anxiety growing more and more. He glared at the door hoping whoever had gone to see Bucky would leave. Half an hour passed before Dr. Cho went back to the room to check on Bucky and immediately making her way over to where the team sat. “Mr. Barnes will see you now”

The team made their way through the doors, freezing as soon as they stepped in. Bucky was snuggled against you, his eyes heavy with sleep, his hand wrapped protectively around your little baby bump, hardly registering others had entered the room. You smiled brightly at them as their shocked expressions melted into tears of happiness having not seen you for months.

“Oh my God. Y/n!?” Nat pulled you into a tight hug, followed by the rest of the team. Steve’s arms lingered around you as he kissed your head, holding onto you extra tight.

“It’s good to see you. We missed you so much” His voice cracked as he spoke, looking down at your growing tummy and the ring that sat on your left hand. “You’re…?” You grinned, nodding, brining Steve’s hand to where the baby kicked, causing his eyes to brim with tears.

“I thought you came here to see me punk” Bucky rasped, smirking at Steve’s poor job at wiping the tears that were rolling down his cheek.

“Shut up jerk. You’re married?”

Bucky nodded, kissing your cheek, rubbing your belly, looking at you with love and adoration “Meet my beautiful wife, y/n Barnes”

“Who would have thought terminator would be the first one married. Unless any of you are also hiding a secret spouse I need to know about?” Tony eyed Steve, Sam and Nat suspiciously before smiling back at you and Bucky.

“You two have SO much explaining to do”

Alternate ending iii

The team sat together around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions. Tony, Nat and Sam sat in the lounge chairs as Steve paced around the hall waiting for the doctor to emerge from the surgery room. A familiar voice speaking to a nurse down the hall caught the team’s attention.

“Oh my God y/n?!” Tony shot up, wide eyed as he saw you walk down the hall, towards them. You grinned as Tony pulled you into a tight hug, nearly lifting you off the floor in the process.

“Hey Tones” You smiled, immediately engulfed by another pair of strong arms before you could say anything else.

“Um, excuse me, you went missing without saying good bye, and you left me muffinless, I think I deserve a hug at least” You giggled wrapping your arms around Sam as he kissed your head “Seriously y/n, we missed you”

“I missed you to- “Hey! Me next!” Nat yanked off Sam, squeezing you, “I missed you babe”. You turned around to Steve who pulled you into a giant bear hug, his warm arms holding you securely.

“You really have no idea how much we missed you”

“-and the muffins!”

“Seriously Sam?”

Steve felt your firm tummy press against him, pulling away from you for a moment; his eyes landing on your little baby bump “Wait! Are you…?”

You grinned, nodding as your hand cradled your tummy, suddenly squished again as the team enveloped you in a giant group hug. Tony held you for a second longer, before letting you go.

“Is that why you left for a desk job?”  

You nodded, as Steve led you to the couch to sit, “Yeah, figured it’d be safer that way, I was planning on coming back after a year”

“Makes sense. Wish you told us though, y’know I would have added a new floor for you and the baby-” Tony’s eyes snapped to you widening, “Hang on, whose the father?!”

You giggled as your hand caressed your tummy feeling little flutters. “Oh my God, is that a ring on your finger?!” Your face heated up as you nodded, watching Sam bounce in his seat and Nat grab your hand to inspect the ring.

“Yup, that would be a ring on my finger”

“Y-you’re married?!”

“I am”

You laughed as the questions began to pour in all at once; Sam pulled out his phone to write down every single question he had for you so he wouldn’t forget.

“Okay, okay, first things first, what are you even doing here; did you come in for a checkup?”

Dr. Cho emerged through the doors before you had a chance to answer. “Mrs. Barnes? He’s awake now; you can go and see him”

The team looked at each other exchanging confused expressions, “Who the hell is Mrs. Bar- OH MY GOD!”

Tony and Sam’s jaws dropped as you got up from your seat, making your way to Bucky’s room. Nat smacked Steve as he sat wide eyed, flicking his own ear wondering if he was hearing things or maybe his old age was finally catching up to him.

“I- what? When?!” Tony sputtered, looking at the door and back at everyone equally confused faced. “Mrs. Barnes?!”

They sat in shock for a few moments, before getting up and knocking on the door.

“Come in”

Bucky smiled sheepishly as you kissed his temple, resting against him; his hand splayed across your tummy.

“Guess I should introduce you guys then, everyone, this is my wife y/n Barnes”

Part 2 - back story + baby barnes

I do (again) wedding time!

-

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore​ @jamesbuckybarneswify​ @slutforsexyseabass​ @chrisdrysdale​ @littlemarvelmenfan​

[dragon-teaparty]

“ I Love You Too ” - Leon Kennedy x Reader

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

ok so first off, i'm so fucking MAD bc tumblr didn't save my draft when it suddenly closed the app to update so i have to rewrite this ENTIRE THING

i'm actually so mad about it, i swear i was about to just not write this. i'm gonna rip my hair out i swear

anyway, i'm back with another story :3 this time it's more wholesome and fluffy

-------------------------------

summary: you and leon become even closer than before (gn reader btw)

It was nearly sunset. You and Leon were in his backyard, just enjoying the weather. You had begun to play fight, something that was common amongst you both.

Usually, it would be typical banter but you'd always say something that would set Leon off, and now was one of those moments.

You said something about his driving and teased him about every time he crashed a vehicle. Of course you had to make some snarky comment about his license.

Before you could bolt off, Leon grabbed you by the waist, causing you to yelp and giggle.

He swept you off your feet and held you in his arms bridal style. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Hey, c'mon!" You laughed, wiggling in his grasp. "You're like 80 tons of muscle, it's no fair!"

Leon chuckled. "Can't take what you dish out, huh?"

You and Leon were very close. Your connection was obvious to those who even glanced at you. You weren't dating, no, but a lot of people sure thought you were.

It was clear how much Leon genuinely cared for you. You had been his light in the darkness of the horrors he's seen in Raccoon City and the mission to Spain to save the president's daughter. It was difficult for him to let people in and the trauma only made it worse.

Of course, Ada had to do something with this as well. Her betrayal all those years ago still weighed heavy on Leon's heart. He was still confused, hurt, and angry all the same. Although he was glad to see Ada alive, he couldn't help but have a taste of bitterness for her. A bitterness that just wouldn't wash off of his tongue no matter how much the mercenary tried to make things better.

You were different. So much different than any other person he'd ever known.

Everything about you was perfect in Leon's eyes. Your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor, the way you'd look away and squeal when you were excited about something. It made him smile.

You had successfully torn down the walls Leon had built and he was more than happy about that. Of course, the initial part of getting to know you was rather irritating for him, he didn't want to talk about his feelings or let anyone see this side of him. You had been a ray of sunshine on his cold heart.

"Put me down!" You squeaked, squirming around.

Leon let out an exasperated huff. "Okay, okay!" He chuckled and then gently placed you back down on your feet. He immediately pulled you into a hug to which you happily accepted.

Your love for Leon was just as strong as his love was for you. You always had more romantic feelings for him but you never admitted it in fear of ruining the special bond you two had.

"I missed you while I was away," Leon spoke up, still holding you against his chest.

You smiled at this. "i missed you too." You said, your voice becoming quiet. "I always miss you."

Leon felt a pang in his heart when you said that. His job was dangerous and there was always the risk of losing his life. He knew how much you worried and he hated it.

He never really thought much about how dangerous being an agent is since he was so used to it at this point. Seeing you worry made him feel guilty.

"I know," he replied softly. "But you know I'll always come back to you, right?"

You nodded, burying your face into his chest.

As much as Leon reassured you that he'd always come home safe, you couldn't help but have the thought in the back of your mind.

When he was away, your nights were often sleepless and you found it difficult to get things done from how worried you got sometimes.

The thought of losing Leon was crushing and you couldn't stand it.

"Hey," Leon spoke, pulling away a little to look at you. "I promise." His expression was soft and his tone sweet and reassuring.

You couldn't hold it back. As you looked up at him and heard his words, tears swelled in your eyes and they began spilling. Leon pulled you back into his arms and you hugged him back once more. He shushed you quietly, running his fingers through your hair and murmuring soft reassurances.

The two of you had stood there in each other's arms for quite a while. By the time you two parted, the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. The moonlight shines through the branches and leaves of the tree you were under, illuminating you both.

Leon couldn't help but admire you. You looked so beautiful underneath the soft glow of the night sky. Your eyes always appeared to sparkle in the light but they looked especially like stars here. He found himself not being able to tear his eyes away from you.

You looked back up at him and into his pretty blue eyes.

He reached over and gently cupped your cheek with one hand. "I'm never leaving you, y'know." He whispered, once again reassuring you with a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

You smiled back, your heart fluttering as you leaned into his touch, placing your hand on his own.

"Oh, I know," you said, your tone turning more playful. "You really don't know when to quit, Kennedy."

Leon laughed, a genuine laugh that you and you alone had ever heard. He looked back at you, a comfortable silence suddenly falling upon you both.

You felt yourself get lost in Leon's eyes. The baby blue was so mesmerizing to you.

The way you looked at him didn't help either, it made his heart jump out of his chest.

The way you looked at one another was undeniable. The fondness and love in your eyes, like you were a golden treasure in the middle of the rubble in both of your minds.

As Leon looked at you, he had an overwhelming urge to just admit his feelings. He loved you so much and he wanted to shout it out loud, pour out his heart to you.

Instead, he simply leaned in, his lips softly pressing against your own.

Your eyes widened, not expecting the sudden gesture at all but you melted into the kiss, your eyes closing shut.

It felt like fireworks had gone off in your brain, butterflies swarmed your tummy, tickling your insides. You almost couldn't believe this was happening.

Leon held the kiss for a little while longer before he pulled away, looking into your eyes. His expression was so soft and loving.

"I love you," you finally spoke, blurting out the words as you were unable to hold them back anymore. You surprised yourself, a blush quickly creeping across your cheeks.

Leon smiled. For the first time in years, he actually felt complete, he felt so loved and safe. This feeling was almost enough to drive him to tears. Never in his life had he ever felt this way about another person before.

He pulled you close again and planted another kiss on your lips before he pulled away again, looking down at you with a grin that he just couldn't get rid of.

"I love you too."

-------------------------

phew! this one is definitely not as good as the one i originally had and that upsets me a lot :'c

i hope you all liked it anyways! love u guys <3

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and  filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there.  Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after.   In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much.                                              *             *             * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

[tare-anime]

I've watched Spy x Family Code White!!!!

And and ........!!!!

OmG!!!!

It's so totally awesome!!!

Tbh, I've never watched anime movie that good before!

I might be biased, but truly, it WAS so AWESOME that I'm planning to rewatch it (if I've ever managed to find extra free time)

My full with spoiler review under the cut

So first of all, the animation quality WAS top notch!

They way they draw scenery, background, lighting, camera movements. OmG!! I really love how WIT studio pay so much attention to details. And the smoothness of it.

The scenery of snowy mountains, sun light reflections through crystalize ice, the water...... wow!

And then there were the difference in way of drawing scenes. Like Anya's imagination was drawn so cartoony, meanwhile Yor's fiery 🔥🔥🔥 fight with type F was drawn with so much intensity, and Loid's stealthy fight was drawn with different color as if Loid was in different dimentions than the rest of the enemies because he was the only one in disguises.

This different way of drawing scenes kind of like Spiderman into the spiderverse, but not to that extent. Nevertheless, it's super awesome.

The foods!!! OmG! Those were detailed and awesome food drawings that make me drools 🤤🤤🤤 desserts, main courses, even snacks!! Wooooaaaa

The action!!! I bow down to the animators. WIT studio once again showing off their skills in drawing super awesome fight action scenes. They draw the character movements very well. Even Fiona get her short glimpse of action scene and that's awesome!

Loid's different action tones animation is super awesome, but I have to bow down and thank the animation team in making Yor (my queeeennn 🛐🛐) being super badass!!! The way she ended the fight with type F??? Guh..... I need all my will power not to screamed "That's my queen!!" in the middle of theatre 🤣

Of course like all anime movies out there, we have to lower our expectation regarding plots. (Plot? What plot? We're here to see the family awesomeness 🤣)

We can easily spot the re-use of plot from canon material but was shown in different font, such as:

Yor's jealousy towards Fiona, that leads her thinking she's inadequate mom and wife, that was a result from her overthink her 3 gossipers cowokers

Fiona's obsesiveness in trying to impress Twilight and becoming the Forger mother

Drunk Yor vs Twilight which ended with Yor sleeping

The super direct advance of Twilight that sucessfully making Yor super embarrases that her body instinc injured Loid

Super long and hiperbolic poop joke from Anya

(These managed to make us the audiences LOLed though 🤣🤣🤣)

Not to say, plot holes (?) Or plot that make you go "huh?", such as:

The super unnecessary idea of replacing Loid with other incompetent agent for a mission as important as Op.Strix

The possible stella from a cooking contest that end up all for nothing because of technicallity malfunction

Putting a very valuable microchip inside a common trunk, and all of a sudden was transported in a common train, leniently lying around in a place where a kid can meddle with it. Secured with only 1 very common key.

A secret recipe of dessert that is a secret but the restaurant owner can give the ingridients to stranger because the owner felt guilty that Anya's share was taken by a foodie adult with military power.

An old plane memento that somehow still in prime condition that can be used by Twilight to pursue Anya's kidnappers.

I can't be helped. The animators may not create something that might disturb canon stories afterall. So these plots were just there to drive the story forward, and forward the story goes!!

(Despite all the things I mentioned above, I still enjoyed the story well.)

And then, last but the most important things, the movie managed to deliver the family awesomeness so well!! The animators clearly know the character and character dinamics so very well. And I, again, bow down to them. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

There are so many moments that will make you go "awwwwwww" and give you so much fluff and sweetness you'd have diabetes right away.

The way Loid always tried his best to give the best for the family, but he forget that the family IS the important one. And Yor was there to softly remind him of it. (This scene was so soft I really teared up 🥲🥲🥲🥲)

The way Anya tried her best to help her papa in acquiring the ingridients because that's the mission was, but eventually she got into trouble. And yet at the end Loid was still very proud of her.

The way Yor took care of Anya and play with her during the trip, the way she protected Anya during their initial fight and at the end of the fight (so many mother daughter moments!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰)

The difference way of fighting between Twilight and Thorn Princess. Like Twilight will go all stealth and disguises until he can't. Meanwhile Thorn Princess was just strorm right through the front door (or rear wall in this movie), demolishing everything while at the same time politely asking for her daughter and husband 🤣🤣🤣

The way all of family working together so that the plane didn't crash at the town, and the way they laugh (Yor and Anya were laughing out loud, meanwhile Loid was chuckling) when all of them managed to "safely" landed.

Good boy Bond always tried his best to support Anya and even galantly tried to defend her but alas, he was no match to human enemy. 🥲🥲

I was just 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

And really, Endo should take notes.

Because all of these are what make we love Forger family. And that it IS possible to make the family do a mission together without revealing their secrets. Like Loid's lousy excuses that make Yor went wooooww, Yor's even more lousy half lies that Loid believes just like that 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (these two omG!)

I also love how Anya as the captain of TwiYor ship actively pushing her parents. Yes Anya 🥰🥰🥰

I also love how the main villain able to recognize Twilight in disguises via the unusual scent. Like. Woa!! That is so possible!! I mean, latex should have a very distinctive smell afterall.

All in all, truly an amazing first movie!!! I do hope one day the anime team will continue to make amazing movies in the future. 🥰🥰🥰

[gotafewtricks]

there are two main things that i love in this life: genji and plushies… what if reader makes genji plush and shows him..? would he like it? would he be like erm what the scallop? maybe this request is a little too silly… but… genji plush

★ "Don't turn me into a marketable plush!"

i am going FERAL over this ask. i literally was just thinking of that, too, today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GENJI <33 It's okay, nothing is ever "too silly" here :3 reminds me, I think on Etsy you can commission someone to make this kitty Genji plush? Or, I'm tripping.

You figured that you'd want to go get Genji a special gift. He doesn't really mention liking much, other than musing about his early fascination with arcades and his troublemaking antics. Over the course of years and years, he's calmed down, but you do love seeing his more playful sidee shine every once in a while.

You knew that in his line of work, he doesn't expect anything for himself. The most that he could ask is just for someone's happiness and appreciation, that that's it for him to be reminded that—yes, he's doing a good job, and he's doing his best.

When he first acquired his new body, he'd be disappointed in himself; in his newfound form. Blinded by his strong, persuading emotions—there would still be times where he felt as if he didn't deserve someone's kindness. If he were to see someone who mirrored how he was back then, he could not've felt empathy—rather, a digust in seeing a spitting image of himself.

He now understands his worth and value in a greater extent now, with the help of his closest companions, mentor, and everyone... Ah, it still gives him chills whenever he thinks about that whole process again.

You were first interested in his initial reaction towards getting a plush. Would he think of it as merely childish, or would he understand the amount of hours you absolutely slaved over in trying to find the right techniques for it? Only time'll tell.

The idea was cute and simple; as it was merely just a plush. You wondered if he even cared much for plushes, figurines, or anything that he could really display. You knew that with his work as an agent, he is more-than-likely constantly out. It's be cool if he were to be able to at least settle the gift in a place he'd be able to see it every so often, as a gentle lil' reminder of you, but you didn't even know of he even... had a consistent residence.

You persevered, albeit.

After tutorial video after tutorial video on trying to work on a humanoid base for your plush, it became taxing on your hands. Either if you're working with knitting needles, sewing by hand, or machine—it was annoying how you'd prick your finger, trying to aim for the felt to stitch it up; or, the amount of hours that pass by whenever you try out your crocheting skills. It was a simple idea, so why weren't there any simpler methods?

Nights where you'd slump over your desk, fingers all red from the exertion, and your brain tired from all of it. You wanted to do your best for Genji, but it was difficult trying to even find a baseline on where to start with him. How'd you even make his helmet? Nonetheless, the inteicate details to his outfit and weapons?

You didn't want to commission the plush, as you were determined to make it from your own very hands. Through sweat, blood, and tears—you WILL make this thing.

Ultimately, you knew better than to just work and work and work on such a hard project. As much as you wanted to show Genji your utmost appreciation, also in a medium that you'd equally love, you knew that gifting Genji a bundle of stuffing all patched together by mishappen thread wasn't something you should be thinking of.

At the end of the day, you just wanted this idea to get out of your head. You didn't promise a gift to him, rather, you promised one to yourself. You'll get this done, even if it's eating away and nagging at your thoughts. You didn't buy all of those supplies for nothing, after all! Better make that money worth it.

Thinking on the topic of him possibly not being able to display the gift in a convenient position, you did consider making the plush smaller. However, the only issue was was because of the loss of quality that is also brought by with it—since you have to downscale the details, and simplify a few things so that it doesn't look all-too overwhelming.

You decided on making him a little charm. You'd imagine he'd be able to put it on a bracelet or a necklace, or just on whatever—as a little bit of added personalization. There were still the downsides listed prior, but you feel as if you tackled too big of a project for yourself; as it did require both patience in waiting lots, and having a lots of time.

At first, you were lost on really doing this, but ovee time with what you've learnt, you made a little plush charm that could fit into someone's palm! You were awfully proud of the little guy, since as soon as you were done making him and hooking the little chain, you gave it a tiny headpat with your index finger. Well done.

When Genji felt you tap his shoulder, you could tell that there was a smile behind his voice, as he asked what you wanted. He sensed you before then, but wanted to see what you'd do anyways.

You hid the item behind your back, snickering to yourself about what'll ever possibly happen. You guessed it was just from Genji, but gosh, does he make you eager. Even if he's not doing remotely anything in specific.

"What is it? Normally, people do not just laugh at something with their hands like that." He'd point out—thanks Captain Obvious—whilst with that teasing edge to his voice. He'd take a sidestep, a gander at what you may have, and then you try to cover it up.

"Be patient! Isn't that your whole thing?"

You then would sigh, as he made a mocking motion with his hands; mimicking how a sock puppet would speak. Upon making the comment on how he must not want his gift after all, he then shakes his head affectionately with a gentle tsk.

Once you then clasped your hands over the charm, you brought it out in front of you. When you released them, and showing him the little plush, he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable the thought was. He'd look up and down, judging by how he moved his head—since you cannot really see his eyes—nonverbally asking you if he could pick it up. You allowed him, and he then held the little guy in between his thumb and index.

"It's a pocket you." You explained, sounding dumb but you didn't care. Genji was busy squishing it, and playing with the keychain. "You're a father now."

He hated how he was just so giggly today. With an eye roll, you knew him enough to tell that, he then pockets the object in his hoodie. You were glad he liked it so much. "I'll take great care of my new son, don't worry."

The next day, whenever you went out to get a breath of fresh air—you saw Genji, sparring his sword against some practice dummies set up around the site. You wished you would've said more previously to him, that you made the gift out of appreciation for the ninja—but seeing how he had the accessory pinned on his hand, a place where he'd always have it... It spoke volumes.

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket (Part 5)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,541

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Notes: ugh. i don't like this one.

_________________________________________

“What?”

There’s no way she just said what you think she said. You wouldn’t be able to hear it with the pounding of your heart and your blood rushing through your ears, you can’t even decipher her next words as the floor falls from your feet.

How would she know that? You pride Mor on her innate ability to find out most information about almost anyone, she’s like a secret agent sometimes. Once, when Feyre had had told you and Mor that her sister Elain was to be engaged to a man no one in her family liked, Mor spent two nights digging into his socials and finding out everything she could about the bastard. To this day, Elain still doesn’t know who it was that sent her those anonymous screenshots and photos of him with another woman.

But right now, you don’t think it’s possible for Mor to have found something out like this. You and Cassian have been so careful, to the extend where you’d been a little paranoid even, always checking your surrounding and planning the times you and him meet up down to the second. You’re anal as fuck about it, but it’s worked for eight months. So why isn’t it working right now?

“I know you don’t want me to repeat myself,” Mor huffs down the line, but her voice is all static, your ears ringing. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your fingers and your arm is numb with it. You’re terrified to pull the device from your ear, not knowing who or what kind of messages you’re receiving right now.

The elevator rings, signaling its arrival to your floor, and the doors sliding open almost feel like a death sentence. On numb legs, you step forward and off the elevator, Mor’s voice still echoing in your head. You’re dating Cassian Bailey?

Bright flashes jolt you from your thoughts. Whipping your head to where the front entrance is located, you quint, holding your hand up to block some of the glare. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight. A crowd of paparazzi wait outside, snapping pictures of you through the lobby’s clear windows.

Holy shit. This is real. This is really fucking happening.

You’re not prepared in the slightest. You don’t know what to do, your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts a second and the strobes coming from the front of your building blind you, leaving white spots in your vision, taking out another one of your senses. Mor is rambling on in your ear, shrill sounding, and if you could make out the words through your muddled mind, you figure she’s scolding you and feeling a bit betrayed by you keeping this a secret from one of your closest friends.

Outside, the people shout. Their words are muffled by the thick glass, but it only adds to the anxiety scorching your veins. The collar of your shirt tightens around your throat and your breathing turns shakey. You’re frozen to the spot, halfway out of the elevator, the doors trying to slide closed but your body against the sensor keeps them angrily pulling back open.

The people waiting for the elevator upstairs are probably pissed.

“Mor?” you ask, and she falls silent. You must not sound like yourself because Mor never lets anyone interrupt her. Ever.

“Yeah?” Her tone is cautious, obviously picking up the emotion—or lack thereof—in your tone.

“What’s going on?”

It’s the only thing you can think to say. Your mind is being hammered with thoughts and the bright lights trying to blind you aren’t helping in the slightest but your feet are frozen to the ground. You know you look like a deer in headlights and that you should move, force yourself to do anything besides stand here like a fool for them to get all of the pictures they want—

Your body surges into action, striding out of the elevator and turning down the hall, giving them your back. You can hear their pathetic pleas for you to turn around and walk their way, but you know better than that. They’re here for one thing and one thing only—to see exactly who Cassian Bailey is sticking his dick into.

Rumors and stories will be swirling by tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and you’re sure these pictures are already up in the tabloids, social media, every inch of the internet they can reach. You wonder if Cassian’s seen any of it and then remember that he’s finishing up practice, so he won’t be by his phone to see all of this for at least another hour.

You’re all alone in this.

Mor sighs your name sadly, and your chest squeezes tight as you round a corner, putting a wall between you and the paparazzi. What she’s about to say isn’t going to be something that you want to hear, but maybe it will make it all the more real.

“There was a picture of you in the Morning Mail,” she explains, and your throat tightens. The Morning Mail is a stupid tabloid online that updates every morning. Most of the time it’s filled with silly stories of random acts of kindness or pranks gone wrong with the occasional post about the current celebrity gossip. You didn’t even know that many people followed the account. Mor does because she’s been on their feed a few times and it gained her thousands of followers overnight. “You’re wearing his shirt.”

You want to choke. You never leave the house in Cassian’s clothes; you make sure of that. You’ve been so careful all this time, parking down the street from his place when you visit, forcing him to take a car and get dropped off since people are surely tracking his personal license plates. You don’t sit with the other families in the stadium at the home games, and Cassian doesn’t even follow you on social media.

You’re wearing his shirt, you echo, wracking your brain for any chance you may have slipped up. Nothing comes to mind, and when you hang your head, it hits you full force; the t-shirt you’d stolen of his in your rush to avoid his more than cheeky attitude this morning. Distracted by his wandering hands, his charming smile, you’d shoved one of his on, tucking it into your slacks before rushing out the door.

“Fuck,” your voice wobbles, tears pricking your eyes and emotion thickening your throat. It’s a black fucking cotton t-shirt, and apart from the sheer size of it and how it hangs loosely from your body, you haven’t the slightest idea of how they know it’s his. But it is, and they know.

A quick glance around the corner has your heart stammering in your chest. The photographers look like a bunch of wild animals, climbing over each other trying to catch a glimpse of you. You pray that their flashes are reflecting off of the glass and ruining their photos, but surely, your luck has completely run out if this is how your Monday is going.

You need to get out of here, now.

“I’ve already called Feyre,” Mor says down the line, and you’re confused on why you weren’t the first call she’d made when she continues. “My attempts went right to voicemail, and I called you right back as soon as I let her know. We’re already on our way to your place but we can swing by if you want a ride?”

“Yeah, I—”

“(Y/N)?” Tarquin’s voice startles you as he peeks around the corner. His bleached brows are furrowed deeply, a frown painting his face when he catches the frazzled look on your face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ah, so he’s also seen the mass of crazies outside trying to capture a front cover photo of you.

You have a choice right now, to lie to your coworker and say that you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re trying to take pictures of, or confide in your best work friend who’s been with you since the start. Literally, you both started on the same day and have been inseparable since.

You choose the latter.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” you ask, holding your hand over the speaker of your phone while you talk to Tarquin. “It seems as though my car is surrounded by strangers.”

With a quick glance back in the direction to the front doors of the building, Tarquin agrees, tone hesitant and a little confused, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “Sure, I can do that. Let me bring my car around the back and I’ll pick you up there?”

You nod, thankful. “Yes, please. Thanks, Tarq, you’re the best.”

He smirks genuinely and you’d roll your eyes at his antics if you weren’t shaking down to the bone. With a wink, Tarquin makes his way through the crowd, and you can hear his cheerful voice as he shoved through the doors, obviously loving all of the attention.

“Mor?” you ask into your phone once he’s gone, “I’ve got a ride, just meet me at my place.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“So…are we going to talk about why all of those people were asking me about you and trying to get pictures?” Tarquin asks once you’ve successfully made it out into the busy traffic and away from the fleet of paparazzi surrounding your place of work.

Tarquin had picked you up at the back of the building and you all but dove into his car before any of the photographers could catch a glimpse of you. Your coworker had shoved a baseball cap in your direction, one with the Sealion’s logo on it that you reluctantly shoved on your head, slumping down in your seat so you weren’t seen.

Your phone has been buzzing constantly, and you’re worried you might actually have to get a new number with the onslaught of texts, calls, and notifications threatening to send your phone into the same shock you’re currently experiencing. Your parents have even been trying to get through, but you haven’t had the guts to answer any of them or even dare to look on any social media platform. You’ve just been staring at the screen, constantly lit with incoming messages, buzzing fervently in your lap.

You glance at the clock on the radio, blinking 5:32. How could your entire world have turned upside down in the matter of thirty-two minutes? You’ve gone from normal girl working a nine to five at a graphic design firm to Cassian Bailey’s girlfriend all because of a fucking plain t-shirt.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get over that, the fact that an oversized, black cotton t-shirt is your downfall in all of this. It’s mind-boggling to believe that someone had connected the dots that quickly, but there are some avid fans of Cassian’s that you wouldn’t dare to go head-to-head with.

“What’s there to talk about?” you speak softly, defeated. With a sigh, you shut your phone off. It’s the best way to avoid what’s going on on the internet until you can wrap your head around everything and what you plan to do about it. You’re exhausted already, just attempting to think about it. You let your head fall to the side, the leather squeaking against your head as you look over at your friend. “You heard them, Tarq.”

Everything that you’ve worked for, your privacy, your art, might all be ruined. Gaining your own following in the graphic design community had been hard, and now that you’re about to be known by the world doesn’t sit right with you. How are you supposed to make really work-related connections when people might only be seeking you out to get closer to Cassian? The thought of being used like that makes your stomach roil. Your trust issues are about to be through the roof.

You stare back out at the traffic and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your brain hurts and you just want to be in the safety of your home.

“So, you’re dating Cassian Bailey,” Tarquin says, like if he almost can’t believe it himself. A sharp pinch to your shoulder has your eyes shooting open and your body bolting upright, only for the seatbelt to lock and nearly choke you.

Yelping, you glare at your friend, but his ice blue eyes are focused on the road. “Hey! What was that for?”

“For not telling me, obviously,” Tarquin scoffs, glancing over his shoulder and flicking on his turn-signal to switch lanes. You peek out of the passenger mirror, anxious that one of the photographers caught a glimpse of you leaving and has somehow followed you thus far.

“I didn’t tell anyone, if it makes you feel better.”

You’re answered with a roll of his eyes.

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to Tarquin, how to respond to any of this. All you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide away for the next few years. How are you supposed to go about your day normally when everything is anything but normal? You’ll be expected to show up with Cassian now, be there in the crowd for the home matches, you know people will be looking for you.

A headache splits your skull at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. There are so many things to think about now, each and every move you make is going to have to be calculated. You’ll have to think about what you’re going to wear, how you’ll present yourself, thinking about what to say before you speak. Anything you do now will reflect on Cassian’s career, and fans will be blaming you for his mistakes.

It's all too much.

“How long has this been going on?” Tarquin asks softly, as if sensing you’re stuck in your head and need help getting out. You don’t really want to talk about you and Cassian at all right now, but you shove those impending thoughts aside with a sigh, and talk to your friend.

“A little over eight months, now.”

“Is he hung?”

You splutter, choking on your saliva, and Tarquin laughs. This, this is why he’s your favorite coworker. Tarquin isn’t afraid of saying what’s on his mind, no matter how HR unfriendly the question may be.

“I’m not answering that,” you laugh, craning your neck to look out the window, hiding your hot face. The blush staining your cheeks is answer enough.

Tarquin tuts, turning down your street. It’s empty, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up to your building and there isn’t a crowd of people shouting your name and trying to take your picture. A little of the tension eases from your shoulders.

“Do you want me to pick you up for work in the morning?” Tarquin asks, pulling over to let you out.

You shake your head, gathering your things. “I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Don’t know what I’m going to do after that. Do you think Alis will let me work from home permanently?” You ask. Alis, your boss, is a strict woman who you can’t seem to figure out if she likes or dislikes anyone that works for her.

Tarquin huffs, “I doubt it. She’s tough as nails, that one.”

“Might just have to quit then, I suppose.”

Your friend’s jaw drops and he looks at you with eyes of betrayal. “You are not going to leave me with the wolves like that! I’ll come drag your ass out of this apartment everyday if I need to.”

“But if I quit, you’ll get to take over Tamlin’s project,” you tease, and his eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that one, apparently. Unlatching the lock, you slide out of the vehicle. You lean down, looking back at your coworker. “Thanks for the ride, Tarq. I’ll text you later.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Feyre and Mor meet you at the door to your apartment, their arms packed with grocery bags filled with candles, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and a lot of alcohol.

“You look like you need it,” Feyre had said when you eyed the bottle of vodka she’d unloaded on your counter.

You do.

You have no appetite, picking at the crust of your slice of pizza. Your stomach stirs sickly, the never-ending thoughts consuming you as you fill your two best friends in on the last eight months you’ve spent with Cassian, from when you’d accidentally run into him at the grocery store late one night after a horrible date gone wrong, to this morning, when you’d slipped into his shirt and hastily left for work. You’d left out the part about Cassian trying to seduce you back into bed, but your friends got most of the story.

“This is insane,” you groan, shoving your plate away from yourself with a sigh. “What the hell am I going to do?”

You hadn’t turned your phone back on, you hadn’t wanted to. You left it in your room when you’d gotten home and changed into your most comforting clothes, stuffing that fucking shirt that got you caught to the bottom of your hamper in rage.

Snuggling deeper into your hoodie, you drag the bottle of vodka closer to yourself, pouring a heavy-handed shot. The alcohol burns your throat on the way down and you grimace, focusing on the burn instead of the pricking at the back of your eyes that hadn’t gone away since you’d all but fallen into your best friends’ arms.

“First, we’re going to need to start brainstorming how to get you out of this. Thankfully, I have a little bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

And she does. Mor has been in the tabloids more than a few times, and most of the time it’s a semi-true story with made-up aspects to really make it seem juicier than it is. She was once photographed coming out of a popular restaurant at the same time actor Harry Hybern was headed in to meet with some friends, and the media had a field day with it. As much as she liked the actor, Mor was upset with the fact that he is thrice her age. You would’ve hated being on the other side of that phone call when she’d dialed the magazine that printed the article, demanding a retraction.

“What’s the first thing you usually do when this sort of thing happens?” you ask. Maybe talking to Mor about her experiences in the public eye will make you feel a little better, if not offer an idea of what you can do yourself.

“See how cute I look in the pictures,” Mor answers, unabashed.

You huff out a laugh in response, Feyre giggling into her glass. “That’s the first thing I do when I see you in the media too, Mor,” she says with a grin, “That vomit green look from the other day? Not your best work, and (Y/N)’s plain black t-shirt tucked into her slacks was so cute! I’m totally stealing that look.”

“Go ahead,” you wave her off because you’re never wearing it again.

Mor glares a little, pouting. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Helping our friend and her sudden fame. I’m thinking Cassian’s dick will take care of most of the emotional turmoil,” she says and Feyre laughs a little too hard. Mor reaches into the bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping it to the first page. “We’ll start with some brainstorming—"

A knock at the door startles you from your wallowing. Back straightening, you glance at your friends taking up the other side of the kitchen island, eyes wide and heart hammering in your chest.

“What if it’s more photographers?” you whisper, and your fingers tremble a little so you clench them instead.

Mor and Feyre share a glance, a flash of worry crossing their features as if they hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre decides, placing her half-drunk glass on the counter as she stands. The blanket droops from her shoulders, flopping onto the back of her stool like you want to be right now, a puddle of fabric and emotions. “If it’s them, I’ll say that this is my place and I don’t know who you are.”

“Good idea,” Mor compliments, nudging your glass with the beck of her hand. She gives you a soft, encouraging smile. “Drink up, (Y/N). It’s probably not the paps, but we’ve got to get you less paranoid so you can think better.”

“Not sure getting wasted is going to help with my thinking,” you mutter, tipping your glass back anyway, “But whatever.” Mor is ready when you remove the empty cup from your lips, already pouring you more. You’re glad to have such amazing friends to drop what they’re doing and come over in your time of turmoil, and they haven’t even laid into you yet about keeping this huge secret from them.

Small victories, and all that.

“(Y/N)?” Feyre calls from the other room. She sounds shocked, almost, and the sound of it makes you want to throw the blanket over your head and cower like a fool. “It’s definitely not the paparazzi.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01

[mikareo]

⌗ SNOWDROP ₊ ˖ ་. nagi seishiro x fem reader (5.4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ it's the end of the world and he's possibly the most unprepared person alive…perhaps he can rely on the pretty girl with perfect aim who just so happened to save his life at the very last second. he’s never been in love but maybe this love could last…so long as the both of you stay alive.

contains; resident evil inspired, badass agent!reader, helpless civilian!nagi, zombie apocalypse, guns, knives, blood, gore, swearing, angst, fluffy flirting, love at first sight, major character death, reo cameo!!!!, cannibalism (zombies) author's note; this fic destroyed my sanity, but i hope u like it! there are parts that are so unserious asjkl just trust me that it's a good read and pt2 is gonna be fucking crazy

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ videogame au milestone collab masterlist !

This can’t be happening. There’s no way this is actually fucking happening right now. 

He’s sprinting at full speed, his laces are barely tied, and the smoke in the air is surely clogging his lungs into a blackened pulp of nothingness. To be quite frank, Nagi would rather have those poisoned lungs than discover whatever the hell happened to his neighbors down the hall…because damn they look like they’re in some rough shape. With their sunken eyes, flaking skin, and very obvious urge to suddenly turn to cannibalism, that’s not really his vibe…but that’s a falling telephone pole! Holy shit that’s a falling telephone pole coming straight his way in 3…2…1. JUMP!

Whew, that was a close one. Good thing he’s tall!

The shift in humanity didn’t exactly happen overnight. It was actually just twenty minutes ago when his peace was so rudely interrupted. There he was, snuggled up in his gaming chair with a fresh bag of Cool Ranch Doritos opened and ready to meet his belly, when he finally beat the last level of his new favorite game; only to discover that those screams of terror and fear…yea those weren’t coming from his PC and his living room window is now a pile of ash. Nagi doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much red and yellow in his life, all of it becoming one big blur of flames that he somehow jumped through and landed on the street below— thankfully he lives on the ground floor, otherwise his body would join his couch in a pile of broken limbs. Damn, this is all such a hassle.

No one would be able to guess what it was that caused this chaos…okay, actually it’s not too out of this world; just a commercial jet falling from the sky with a monstrous thing (??) crawling out of the window onto the streets of Tokyo, whilst an oddly green gas dilutes the air.

Yeah, not too crazy— but just crazy enough to make even Nagi Seishiro, laziest man on earth, leave the comfort of his homely apartment to find his neighborhood in complete and utter chaos. He even saw his delivery man devouring the convenience store owner that always gives him an extra bonus off his nightly midnight snack. Man, he loved that guy. That’s a sight that’ll make him shudder for years to come; assuming he can stay alive for the next however many hours and days this newfound apocalypse is going to take.

Nagi thinks it’s been nearly an hour since he started running and he didn’t even know he had this much stamina in him. Maybe he’s secretly a superhuman or another one of the monsters the city has been consumed by— or perhaps his adrenaline rush is nearly infinite since he’s never utilized it in his entire life. He’s not sure of the logistics. He failed high school biology…and chemistry…and physics. There’s a reason why he turned to gaming and shied away from college. This thrill and rush isn’t meant for him. He’s a couch potato that wants to do nothing but rot and enjoy the satisfying ding Twitch gives him whenever he receives a new sub. His generation needs instant gratification…and right now? Well, he’s in desperate need of some water. 

Hesitantly, Nagi rounds into the glass doors of the nearest and safest looking building he happens to see— which is luckily a convenience store similar to the one near his apartment. He’s more than surprised when the automatic doors open in a pinch and he’s able to enter with no difficulty. The store is somehow in little disarray, with its grocery items on the shelves in their rightful spots and few sparse bags of chips laying on the tile floor. However, what is in disarray is the pharmacy section. There are drugstore pills scattered everywhere. He can’t even tell what kind of medications were being scavenged in a clear panic for medical amenities, and highly doubts that whoever was searching for supplies was able to get any with the state the back of the store is in. The font on the labels is so small that Nagi, the man who stares at a screen all day, can’t decipher what they say; and he’s assuming that whoever was in here is long dead and gone. But then again…

…he’s never been the kind of guy who’s always right.

“I come in peace!” His voice is two octaves higher than it normally is. If this were a choir audition, he’d absolutely ace it. “I swear I just came for some water! Please don’t kill me, zombie, please!”

Both of his eyes are shut whilst he awaits his inevitable demise, assuming that the unknown presence in the room likely has an appetite for human organs. There were so many things he wanted to do with his life…like ride a hot air balloon? Actually, that would be really hot if he were that close to the sun. Surf in the Caribbean? Ew, he could get bit by a crab. Get a girlfriend? He can’t complain about that one, that would be very very nice. 

Oh no, he’s already getting eaten…he can practically hear her imaginary laughter already.

“Really? Those are your last words?”

Zombies can talk?

Nagi fearfully inches one eye open to see the most gorgeous person he thinks he’s seen in his entire life. Sure, you look a little disheveled— with your soaked hair and dirt-crusted skin— but to him, you look like something out of his imagination. The female protagonist that he could only dream about campaigning with in a first-person-shooter game, and would later search for a worthy poster to stick on his wall. If love at first sight is real, then this is definitely it. The only issue? Your barrel is pointing straight at his face.

“You’re going to shoot me?” He exclaims, scrambling to back up but ultimately tripping on his own laces and landing on his ass. “Ah shit, that hurts.”

Elegantly, you rush to his side. “You have injuries?” With eyes scanning over every inch of his body, there’s genuine concern dripping from your tongue like honey. Your voice is like a melody, oh man. Nagi thinks he’s a goner— not because he could be eaten by zombies, but because he feels like he’d jump in front of a moving bus to protect you. Pfft, and some protection he’s doing, embarrassing himself like this…

“Nope, nothing’s hurt…” he mumbles, sitting up with an attempted nonchalant look on his face. “...only my ego.”

A small smile reveals itself before him and your eyes crinkle as you let out a little laugh, and instantly he’s almost more obsessed with you. It’s as if you’re some higher being that he was blessed to see on his final day on earth, with golden rays radiating from your skin and big irises that he could drown in. Perhaps if it weren’t the end of the world, the two of you could’ve walked to this store together— holding hands and speaking softly about your shared interests and passions— and he could make you laugh a million times and more…now that he’s really thinking about it, you’re the first girl he’s made laugh probably ever and he really wishes there wasn’t a menacing zombie apocalypse getting in the way of his beautiful fantasy. 

“I’m assuming you’re alone?” You stand up, looking down at him. 

Alone as in single or…

“You don’t have any family that you escaped with?”

…okay not alone as in single. Got it.

“It’s just me,” Nagi stands to his feet and is loving your shocked reaction to his towering height. “My family’s overseas right now, so I think they’re alright. I mean, I hope they’re alright. I don’t have any service to reach them, right now. My phone is down.”

You nod, reaching in your bag for something he can’t quite see. What he can see, though, is the massive shotgun strapped to your back and three large cartridges hanging from your belt— somehow you’re able to carry all that and four grenades, two handguns, and six rolls of bandages in that pack of yours, which you lay out for him so lovingly on the floor. 

“Take what you need.” Oh hell, what has he gotten himself into?

As he backs up cautiously, realization dawns upon your face. “You’ve never done this before have you?” 

“Is living through a zombie apocalypse a common experience?” His mouth is agape. “Yeah, sorry…can’t say this isn’t the first time for me.”

A sigh slips from your lips and you gather your things, packing everything into your bag except for a standard handgun. Nagi can feel his heartbeat picking up as you take three steps closer to him. One. Two. Three. He wishes you’d chosen to take a fourth— that way you’d be nose to nose, he’d get to see your beauty up close, and then memorize the curves and features of your face— which he’d surely never forget as he’d think about them morning, night, and day. He’d love to fantasize about you for hours but you have other plans, dropping said standard handgun into his palms. 

“Just aim for the head, okay?” 

Um. No. Not okay. 

“I don’t really shoot real guns…” he rambles, attempting to get rid of the deadly weapon you’ve so casually given him. “I’m more of a lover, y’know? Talk things out instead of shooting things in between their eyes? I like digital zombies! Yeah, those guys are chill…love ‘em so much…please take this away from me.”

You shake your head, already on your way out of the door. “Nope, you’re coming with me.”

“Why?” If this were a video game, there’d be a massive exclamation point flashing above his head, along with a grave that he could crawl into instead of joining you on this suicide mission. Being six feet under sounds pretty nice right about now…but he’s sure that the look you’re giving him is more deadly than any threat outside. “I don’t think I’m going to be much help to you.”

“Nagi, is it?” You clarify, to which he nods. “There are only two choices right now, and I know we just met but I’d rather you live than die. You’re tall. Your height is going to give you a range advantage when we’re out there, and I can already tell that you have great spatial awareness…not many people would’ve noticed me in the shadows. You know this area far better than I do, and sure, you’ve never held a gun before, but you’ve got to fight to live.”

As your voice continues in a soft-spoken tone, he’s mesmerized. “I want you to live, and I’m going to make sure you do.”

He can feel himself nodding along to your words— his heart getting lighter by the second, perhaps out of adrenaline but he’s going to believe it’s love. He needs something to look forward to when this is all over, if this is ever over, and that something is the image of you and him on a date. With you looking stunning in your favorite outfit and him hopefully looking better than he does right now…clear skies with the cicadas shushing themselves so he doesn’t miss a single thing you say…enough money in his bank account to cover anything and everything you wish for…and the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers that he can find. What are your favorite flowers?

“Can I ask you something before I say yes?” Nagi’s voice is sweet, seemingly comforting you as your shoulders drop from their automated offensive stance. You look a little curious, likely assuming that he’s going to ask you some tips on how to shoot a gun— which he probably should if he’s being honest with himself, but that’s an issue that isn’t as important as his current curiosity. “Do you have a favorite flower?” 

With teeth shining at him, he’s blinded by the overwhelming beauty you send his way and for the second time, he makes you laugh. 

“My favorite flower? You’re so strange.” Overcome with a fit of giggles, he thinks that this is your first time laughing at something a man said as well. “Why do you need to know that? Are you asking me out or something?”

“I am.” He states bluntly and your cheeks flush red. 

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you and each second is more excruciating than the last. With a heavy clock ticking in his ear, telling him that he’s made a fool of himself as the hand inches more and more to the left; he’s counting down his probable rejection as he’s just shot his shot in the middle of the end of the world. What a stupid decision. He knows his timing could be better— could be a lot better actually— and there’s a part of him that regrets even attempting…but none of that matters, because you’re smiling.

Maybe he makes you just as nervous as you make him…

“Okay Nagi,” you grin and adjust the shotgun strap across your chest. “If we both survive this, I promise I’ll go out with you…but I have some high expectations. I want the most expensive flower arrangement money can buy.” 

“And what kind of flowers are you wishing for, gorgeous?” His voice is a sexy whisper, and Nagi didn’t even know he could be so seductive.

You jokingly roll your eyes at the pet name and toss him one of your inactive grenades, which he catches with ease, urging him to follow you into the chaos— but not before you give him the answer he so desperately desires.

“Snowdrops.”

There are two things that Nagi has realized in the past thirty minutes. 

1.) He’s a lot more athletic than he thought he was. 

Running for a half an hour straight is something that he never imagined himself doing— especially considering that he’s never stepped one foot into a gym in his entire life. What he originally thought to be clumsiness, turns out to be raw strength untouched. You were right to assume that his lengthy limbs would do him some justice in the fight for his life, and he’s thankful for his towering height as he’s blocked falling debris from smacking you atop the head nearly five times now; though, he did miss a flying sneaker that happened to nail you straight in the nose. He’s trying his best, give him a break. 

2.) You might be a figment of his imagination. 

Sure, this idea is likely false as he definitely felt your weight when you were sent flying from a stray hand grenade and landed on top of him, but you just seem so perfect. Getting to know you has been a dream come to life— though making conversation while running for his life isn’t the easiest feat, he’s managing. Some of the things you’ve told him do seem to be made up, though. For instance, you were the culprit behind the plane crash and while he’d love to picture a sunsetting sky with the two of you floating in the breeze, you’re not going to be piloting that jet. However, he has to give you a break because he’s never flown anything other than pixelated aircrafts, especially aircrafts that contain a deadly monster oozing toxic gas that turns people into zombies. Yeah, he couldn’t quite believe that either.

“On your left!” The sound of your voice snaps him back into focus and he realizes there are four zombified citizens barreling your way. “I could use some help here!”

You definitely don’t need his help. For God’s sake you have a shotgun the size of your leg that’s already mowed down three of them and Nagi’s just barely getting used to the sound of the bang. So far he’s pretty much been useless if not for letting you know what’s coming up in the distance, and also being the absolute last resort solution— which is rare, but oh shit it’s happening right now! You’re out of shells! How exactly does he fire this thing again?

Shakily, he attempts to point his handgun in the direction of the lone zombie bounding towards you. “Deep breaths, Nagi! Focus and aim!” Your words of encouragement are appreciated, but ultimately useless as he desperately starts stray shooting. 

“Fucking aim!” You’re losing your patience for him so fast, to which he tries his best to calm down and breathe.

In and out.

His heart rate begins to slow.

Breathe and concentrate. 

His eyes become unclouded by his anxiety, and his vision clears. 

Lock on.

He has a mark on the target. 

With his pistol’s aim assist shining against the zombie’s forehead, he confidently fires a single bullet. It soars through the air, squealing in its flight, and he lets out a sigh of relief…a sigh that he exhaled far too early.

Aw shit, he missed. 

You grunt, bracing yourself against his bullet that ricochets off of the nearby telephone pole and grazes your right arm. He has a clear view of the scarlet blood dripping down your elbow and onto the pavement, and his heart feels heavy. He’s so fucking useless that he’s injuring you. Nagi doesn’t think it’s even possible to be worse at flirting than him; he can’t imagine that there are many guys who are accidentally shooting the girl they like, yet here he is. 

Thankfully, you being the badass agent you are, you’ve managed to reload your eleven shells of ammo in the time it took for him to fire one bullet— and you easily dissolve the zombie to bits and pieces. 

“Your aim can use a little work.” You snort, brushing your fingers against the small wound.

He rips the sleeve of his t-shirt off and attempts to wrap it around your arm. This is what you’re supposed to do, right? The only training he’s had in the medical field is from that one surgeon simulator game he played in middle school, and to be completely honest, it was a pretty good game! However, he’s definitely doing something wrong because you place your hand over his and show him how to properly treat an open wound. Normally, Nagi would be embarrassed that he’s failing so miserably right now— but honestly, the only thing on his mind is how this is the first time you’ve held his hand. He can’t tell if there are butterflies in his stomach or if the smell of blood is triggering vomit. Hopefully the former.

It’s no surprise that your perceptive self notices his focus on your intertwined hands, to which you take the lead and insist on pushing forward. “As romantic as this is, we should find some shelter before we get eaten in the midst of making out.” 

Oh?

“You want to make out with me?” 

Oof that slap hurt. His priorities clearly don’t align with yours.

“Okay, okay.” Nagi holds his hands up in surrender before you can smack his chest for a second time, and he’s finally able to notice your surroundings. Since when was the Mikage Buildingright behind you? Hm…the imminent fear of death must have distracted him. “My best friend’s family owns this tower here. I promise it’s safe.”

Your gaze narrows at the wall of glass windows that are seemingly spotless. There isn’t a single crack, faulty line, or zombie-sized hole that’s visible to the naked eye and he feels a little swell of pride for Reo’s family. Yeah, that’s right! My best friend’s parent’s architects are great at making buildings! It finally seems like he’s had his first good idea of the night, and Nagi couldn’t be more proud. Progress is progress (even if he shot you in the process)! 

“It looks good.” You nod in approval and begin cautiously making your way towards the doors.

While following closely behind, he watches your back and ensures that there’s no one on your trail; which isn’t difficult in the slightest. Most of the civilians have died by now and you’ve already cleared every undead in the area…without his help. He doesn’t know how he managed to be so lucky that he ended up with you, but he’s grateful for every second— and now that you’re finally in his familiar territory, he can finally show you what he’s worth. 

“There’s an elevator up these steps.” Nagi leads you up the grand staircase, remembering how he lazily trotted down it yesterday after Reo tried, once again, to convince him to join his football club. “I think it’ll work, I know they have emergency systems and everything.”

“I don’t know, Nagi…” your voice trails off, something amiss about it. “I just have a weird feeling about this place.”

“I promise Reo’s family’s going to take care of us, they’re the best.” He deflects your concerns, trusting that his friend will pull through and have some crazy solution to save the world. There’s never been a time where he couldn't count on Reo and as soon as you reach the top of these steps, you’ll agree. The text he sent out asking for help is almost delivered, just a few more seconds and that blue line will slide all the way to the right and Reo will be right down the elevator as soon as possible. 3…2…1…sent! There! You’ll both be saved!

But if Reo’s on the top floor in his room…why did his ringtone ding just meters away?

There’s a corpse laying in front of the elevator doors, mangled and bruised. How did Nagi not notice it before? Was he too distracted thinking of his closest and only friend he’s ever had? No way. The security team must have destroyed all of the zombies in the building already, he’s sure Reo and the others are fine— but why does that body look so familiar?

No.

It can’t be him. 

Three steps away. 

There’s got to be some kind of mistake here. A prank right?

Two steps away. 

He can’t be dead. His best friend can’t be dead!

One. 

“No…” With his voice trembling, he stands over his best friend’s body. Reo’s violet hair is drenched in blood, seemingly resembling the color of a plum rather than the typical lavender hue. If it were a normal day, Nagi would laugh at the awful color— telling his partner in crime that the shade didn’t suit him in the slightest and Reo would laugh in annoyance, aiming a ball straight for the taller boy’s head…but this isn’t a normal day. This is the end of the world; and that beautiful lavender flower that Nagi associated with his teammate is wilting. It’s dying. It’s dead along with the heartbeat within it. Reo is dead. 

“Nagi. I need you to step back slowly.” He spins to see you with your barrel aimed at Reo’s corpse, but he can’t seem to move. It’s almost as if he’s been stunned, frozen in place with frostbite cementing his legs to the granite floors, and mouth encased in ice. He’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even open his mouth to give you a warning that there’s something moving behind you. Why can’t he speak? He needs to tell you! However, right when his teeth quiet their jitter, you’re tackled to the ground with a loud pummel. 

Immediately, gunshots ring out in the grand hall. You’re firing in every direction in an attempt to blast off your opponent, but this zombie is particularly agile and you don’t have much room to move with your large shotgun…looking back in retrospect, giving Nagi your only handgun wasn’t the greatest idea.

“C’mon!” Repeatedly, you call out to him, but he remains paralyzed in fear. “Stop being useless!”

He watches as you struggle to wrestle off the infected woman, grunting and groaning with every punch you deal to its face. The skin on her cheeks is almost a greyish shade, discolored and decaying with a potent smell that burns his nostrils. It’s hard to tell who’s who under the blanket of shadows she’s trapped you under, but occasionally he catches a glimpse of golden eyes that tell him the zombie is still alive. 

Somehow, with your almost supernatural raw strength, you’re able to hook your thighs around the zombie’s neck— pinning it down to the pearly floors and trapping it beneath your weight. It claws and cries out, desperately trying to escape your grasp, and Nagi almost feels bad for it. Just a few hours ago, this woman had a life. A real life that she likely looked forward to living every day; and now she’s nothing but a brainless carnivore with cannibalistic intentions. She could’ve been a mother. There could be a little boy out there missing her and waiting for her to come home, tell him that he’s safe, and that everything is going to be alright. When was the last time Nagi talked to his own mother? Why does he deserve to live and this woman doesn’t? Why is he so special that he was saved, while the rest of Tokyo was left to rot? 

It isn’t fair. 

None of it is fair.

He doesn’t deserve to live. He doesn’t deserve to be here. 

He’s taken his life for granted from the moment he learned to walk. Why should you be wasting your time trying to get him to safety when he’s nothing more than absolutely useless? He needs to help.

He needs to be brave…

…but he misses his chance once more. 

Letting out a wailing scream, you muster up enough energy to crush the woman’s head between your thighs, and Nagi is splattered with blood and guts. He doesn’t know how you’re so strong— it’s almost eerie in a way— but he’s more concerned with the state of your well-being. The look of exhaustion in your eyes acts as a glaring sun against his icy posture, and his feet are thawed from the floor, rushing towards you in mere seconds. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kneels on the ground before you and cups your face closely, “Hey— hey, don’t close your eyes. I’m right here. Please stay awake.” Nagi doesn’t think his voice has ever been so gentle nor has he ever felt this kind of worry for a girl before. Sure, he hasn’t known you for long, but he knows he can’t go on without you. You’re a team and a team sticks together. You can’t die right here! He’s not going to allow that!— but before he can lift you up like the knight in shining armour he wishes he could be, there’s a faint rustling behind him…a familiar rustling. Nagi knows that sound. He knows those movements. He’s heard them a million times and he’d be able to recognize them even in the midst of Shibuya Crossing in the busy hours. 

Where did Reo’s body go?

Perhaps it dissolved or maybe it was kicked aside in the midst of your fight. 

That has to be it, right? Where else could he be?

Nagi’s confusion is understandable. He’s thinking rationally given the circumstances and his heartbeat is somewhat steady. The mass of his body hovers over yours in a protective stance, like a dragon guarding a princess, and for once he appears to be confident. However, that confidence has been set aflame. He can feel his blood racing, burning through his veins in fear and distress, and he wishes he could simply rip his vitals from his skin to destroy the wretched emotions. The sight before him is something out of a horror movie…a horror movie where Nagi is the main character. 

“Oh fuck.” 

Reo leaps out of the shadows before Nagi can even react. 

There’s a blur of hands and feet, hitting and kicking at each other, and the snow haired boy never knew he was this agile. Reo is clearly doing his best to hit Nagi’s vital arteries; to which he’s blocking each attack with his forearms. This is chaos. He doesn't even have a second to think for himself and consider the possibility of blasting Reo’s head off with his handgun. He can’t do that…this is his best friend! 

As Nagi’s leg lines up to knock him off his feet, Reo lunges down and grabs a hold of it. In a panic, he attempts to shake his friend off— wiggling his leg up and down whilst reaching for his combat knife in his back pocket— and slices the skin in between Reo’s forearm and bicep…which is ultimately ineffective. Oh, shit he just got angrier! Growling, zombie-fied Reo clasps his hands around Nagi’s waist, lifting him off the ground with ease and throwing him into the elevator doors. The sound of his body slamming against the metal slab rings out, echoing in the grand foyer and deafening Nagi’s left ear. His breathing is heavy and he feels like he can’t get a single ounce of air in his lungs. Everything seems to be blurry, foggy with mist covering his irises as he attempts to see what’s right in front of him. 

A carnivorous Reo…

…and an unconscious you.

It’s clear to him what’s going on. There are two outcomes to this horrific situation and whatever decision Nagi makes is going to impact the rest of his life. 

1.) Let you go and join the afterlife with his best friend. 

2.) Save you and never see his best friend again. 

His heart is at war within himself. One side fighting for Reo, the boy he’s known for so long. The boy he’s laughed and cried with. The boy who knows everything about him. The boy who believed in him when no one else did…until you came along. 

Just the thought of seeing your lifeless eyes, bloodied body, and severed limbs flips a switch inside him— and Nagi finally comes to realize what’s happening. This isn’t Reo. This shell of a man with a monstrous hunger isn’t his best friend. Reo is a ghost now. He doesn’t exist anymore and now his body is being possessed by the undead, or whatever zombies are. He can miss his friend all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that the thing creeping towards you is nothing but a stranger who knows all of Nagi’s secrets. 

It’s time for him to fight to live. 

As he swiftly stands and tackles Reo to the floor, a wave of memories flash before Nagi’s eyes. 

The moment he first heard Reo’s voice. It was light and friendly. He had used a tone that Nagi hadn’t ever heard before, and although he had no interest in playing soccer, he still wanted to impress the popular boy— not because he wanted a higher status or a girlfriend, but because he knew this stranger needed a friend…and he really needed a friend, too. 

His palms grip Reo’s throat, ripping him off of your body.

The first time Reo laughed at something he said. It wasn’t intended to be funny, but the plum-haired boy couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and Nagi found himself laughing as well. Sitting in the school courtyard, side-by-side with crumbling onigiri falling from their mouths, there’s no doubt that they looked like two elementary schoolers finding humor in something obscurely immature— but despite that, it’s one of his fondest memories. 

Reo struggles against Nagi’s weight, pinned to the floor with nowhere to run.

When he’d first shown him his concerningly large collection of video games, Reo hadn’t batted an eye. In fact, the very next day, Nagi received a friend request from him. Which seemed like a small act at the time, until he found out that Reo had gone to the tech store and purchased an entire PC set up just so he could be the Player 2 to Nagi’s Player 1. They were partners in both the real and virtual world— an unstoppable pair that won more tournaments as time went on— and Nagi will never clean out his xbox inventory filled with their trophies. 

His finger grazes the trigger.

This is it. 

No more memories.

It’s time to say goodbye.

In movies, when the protagonist has to kill their loved one, a single tear rolls down their cheek. 

For Nagi, his face drowns in his cries. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s gone.

“I love you.”

Reo’s body dissolves into ash…

…then dust…

…then nothing. 

“I’m so sorry.”

PART TWO COMING IN THE NEAR FUTURE (i’m a slow writer pls forgive me)

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹