#if you're speaking about x you must have the energy/information/time to speak about y and z

[vicsuragi]

.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

100: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: This is your first case back after being released from prison, but are you really ready to come back? Hotch finally catches up with Foyet, and you don't know how much more heartbreak you can take before you break.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche

The FBI forced you to take a break before you could return back to work. They gave you a month. A month of pulling your hair out because you hate not working while your team risked their lives to protect others. You should be lucky they allowed you to come back. It must have been your innocent sentencing. 

Well, you're here now.

You're standing outside the FBI building too nervous to go inside. Your hand shakes slightly, your heart beats faster, your skin becomes clammy, and your head is filled with wicked thoughts. What if your coworkers moved on without you? What if they don't welcome you back? What if someone is already in there who is supposed to replace you? What if they wanted to fire you in person?

You take out your phone and call your dad. You took this month and isolated yourself from nearly everyone. The after-effects of being in prison need time to wear off. It hurt you to keep Spencer away from you all month but he respected your privacy as much as he could. It killed him not to sleep in the same bed as you every night but he knew that is what you needed.

"Y/N?" your dad answers with a confused tone.

If anyone deserves to know you're out of prison, it's your parents.

"Hi. I just... I got my trial. They found me innocent. I got let go."

"What?" You're not sure if he's saying this because he's happy for you or if he's pissed. "You're out?"

"Yeah. My team got me out. They found evidence that it wasn't me. This is good, right?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"Are you okay? You don't sound too happy."

"I'm sorry, baby, I've been trying to jump through hoops to get one of my kids adopted. It's a bit frustrating. I don't mean to take it out on you. Listen, why don't your mother and I come down there and take you out to lunch or something? We can celebrate."

"Sure, I'd like that."

"I gotta go. Congratulations, honey."

He hangs up before you can say anything back. You're not sure if he meant that. Since being released, you've begun to question everything about everyone. If someone speaks a certain way, you become paranoid that they hate you. Prison still has a hold on you and you hate it. It's like every woman's energy is still clinging to you. It's driving your life and you don't know how to shake it off.

You force yourself to be okay as you enter the building. While you were on your month's rest, the team has been working endlessly to gather as much information on George Foyet as they could. Karl Arnold told Hotch that George often visited him which prompted Hotch to go after him. Hotch has been living in fear for too long, and he really misses his family.

It's time to bring them home.

Foyet had done a lot of injury to himself in the original string of killings in an effort to paint himself as a victim and to throw them off the investigation. As a result, he became dependent upon a large number of extremely strong medications. The team had been searching the country for patients with that exact prescription combination, but they hadn't had any luck.

You walk into work and see half your team running around trying to get their shit in order. Spencer passes by you with files in his hands but he doesn't talk to you. In fact, he doesn't even look at you. He's still pissed that you wouldn't let him see you in prison. You want to talk to him about it but it's going to have to wait.

"Y/N!" Derek smiles when he sees you. Emily turns and smiles widely, and both of them head over to you. "Welcome back!"

"Thanks," you smile and hug him tightly.

"How are you doing?" Emily asks as she hugs you.

"You know, I've been better. I'm glad to be back, honestly. I heard you guys are looking for Foyet?"

"Yeah. In my opinion, Hotch is close to going crazy. He wants this son of a bitch."

"We all do. Where is he?"

"In his office."

"Thanks," you whisper and leave their side. You walk to Hotch's office where he and Rossi are. You knock twice before entering and both men stand to your arrival. "Hi. I figure you'd want to see me before I get settled in."

"How are you doing?" Rossi asks.

"I've been better. Thank you for letting me have a month off. It helped." White lie but the last thing you're going to tell them is that you're fucking paranoid as shit. "Do I still have a job here?"

"Of course," Hotch nods. "Despite what you can do, you're valuable to this team. We wouldn't be complete without you."

"Thanks," you nod. "I promise I'll do my best and not let what happened to me affect the team."

"I believe you," Hotch nods. Someone knocks on his door and he allows them to come in. It's JJ. She looks at you and wants to hug you and comfort you but she has more pressing matters. "We've been tracking Foyet's meds as the entire combination. What if he's been using over-the-counter meds for some of it to mask his purchases?"

"Okay, narrow the search. Focus on the meds he can't substitute. Good work. Is Garcia in yet?"

"Yes." Her phone rings and she looks at you with a smile. "Welcome back, Y/N."

"Thank you."

"Are you ready to jump into this? I would understand if you needed more time off."

"No, sir. If it's alright with you, I really need to do this."

"Okay."

You and Hotch walk to Penelope's office together since you're still trying to gather information on what they've been doing. If you can do that, you'll know how to proceed without Hotch by your side. You've only been gone for two and a half months but the way you're uncertain about everything makes it feel like you've been gone for a lot longer. 

Penelope gasps when she sees you, excited that you're finally back to work. She sees the hard look on Hotch's face and decides against celebrating your return right now. Kevin is inside the office with her, and while he doesn't know everything that's been happening with you, he knows enough.

"The Foyet letters came from Fredericksburg, Virginia, and Westminster, Maryland. We can match the prescription drugs Foyet can't substitute with a geographic profile of the two cities."

"Can't substitute?"

"We need you to track the drugs that can't be emulated with over-the-counter drugs and can only be dispensed by a pharmacist, and you need to do it quickly. Foyet doesn't stay in one place very long."

"Then Kevin needs to stay."

"What?" Kevin asks and looks at Penelope.

"Sir, Kevin is an amazing analyst. I can work almost twice as fast with him running part of my system."

"Fine, Garcia. How long?"

"These are your screens," she points to the ones that Kevin will be using. "I'll know once I get into it. We're gonna work on the geographic profile."

"Call me when you have something. Please hurry."

"Okay."

You and Hotch leave her office and head to the briefing room where everyone else is. All eyes are on you which should make you feel safe but it makes you anxious. Spencer's eyes meet yours and he quickly looks away from you. Your heart aches for him. You look around the room and make your way to the chair that's been empty for two and a half months.

"There are approximately a hundred and fifteen miles between Fredericksburg and Westminster. Why mail a letter from two cities?" JJ asks.

"Maybe it's purely a forensic countermeasure. He knows that mailing letters close to home would lead us right to him, so he drives far away to mail the letters to throw us off his scent."

"The uni-bomber did that. So did the 2001 anthrax suspect. He could have gone anywhere, but he's trolling the DC area."

"It makes sense to stay close to Hotch. He stuck around Boston to watch Shaunessy deteriorate." She gasps when she realizes her mistake and looks at Hotch. "Not that you're--"

"It's alright," he cuts her off. "I know he's been watching me. It's part of the reason I stepped down so he'd think I was falling apart."

Derek immediately looks at you at the mention of Hotch stepping down. Everyone knows he wanted you to be in his place. Derek was the second choice. He may even have been the better choice. You're not the same person you were back then. The woman who helped on the case in Canada is gone. What's in her place is a woman who is on the constant verge of crying, throwing up, and second-guessing everything she does.

You hate this woman.

With two analysts working on the case, they come up with answers about the medicine fairly quickly. 

Foyet is taking a lot of medicines for his injuries, and some of them can be substituted with over-the-counter medicines. Naproxen is available in generic brands over the counter. Its properties can be simulated by Aleve. Ultram can be substituted as well. One of the things that can't be substituted is Oxycontin and because it's highly addictive and regulated, there isn't a substitute for it.

However, there are ways of scoring Oxy off the streets if you know how to look for it, and you can bet your ass that Foyet knows how to get it. If he's willing to go through all this to keep the FBI off his radar, he'll definitely tap into the Black Market for the drug. The other drug that can't be substituted is Tapazole which treats hyperthyroidism.

When Foyet stabbed himself, his body would have endured permanent internal damage. He'd need this prescription to regulate his heart rate and keep down the palpitations and tremors. Penelope and Kevin printed a list of everyone who is on this medicine within a sixty-mile radius of both cities.

"Okay, so what are we gonna do about the two cities? Usually, we need three different points to get an accurate geographic profile," JJ asks.

"This is all we have right now. Where the hell are you, Foyet?" Derek sighs.

Penelope comes walking into the room with her tablet in her hands.

"Okay, me and Kevin found a thyroid medication that has no substitute over the counter. You've gotta get it from a pharmacist, but a lot of people are on it."

"Find the midpoint between the two cities and isolate names in a twenty-five-mile radius."

"That's still a hundred and fifty-three names," she says after doing what she's told.

"He's not going to use his own name. What kind of aliases should we be looking for? He could have easily stolen someone's identity."

"No, he's a narcissist in love with his own mythology," Hotch shakes his head. "He'd use a name connected with the case like a victim or a cop."

"Check the Foyet files for a list of names."

"Nothing," Penelope answers.

"Wait a minute, guys. Foyet likes things to have meaning to him. The eye of providence and the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias. Like an anagram or something."

Spencer gets up and walks to the whiteboard with a marker in hand. He writes George's full name on the board and stares at it in thought. You've always been envious of his mind. He's seeing something the rest of you can't.

Do you see something, Reid?"

"Not yet."

"Reid, he named himself The Reaper."

Something clicks in Spencer's mind when he writes the name on the board.

"Peter Rhea. Try that name."

Penelope looks at her tablet.

"There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington."

"We found him."

You feel so useless right now. You haven't said a single word since walking into the briefing room. You have no clue where they are in the case and you feel like if you try to help, you'd only get in the way. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own shit to notice how quiet you've been but not busy enough to not include you. 

You might have fibbed a bit earlier. Maybe you're not ready to come back after all.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Hunter Games: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Sam and Dean need Metatron thinking he has all the answers to the Mark of Cain. He's a giant bug that you'd love nothing more than to squish.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean hasn't left his room in two days. All he can do is sit in bed and think about both what he did to Randy and his men. Granted, you did the killing with him but this power scares him. It scared him when he first took the Mark and it terrifies him now. He's holding a picture of you and the kids and a drop of water splashes onto the glass.

He has no clue where his kids are but he hopes that they're okay. Wherever they are has to be better than being here.

He sighs and wipes his face clean of tears. When he runs into you, he doesn't want any hint that he's been crying. You'll become brutal and feed off the negative energy. He leaves his room and heads to the library where Sam and Cas are talking.

"She barely speaks to me," Cas sighs, sad about Claire. "She's like a wounded animal, just watching me."

"Look, you tried to do the right thing that night. You did. All Randy did was use Claire."

"She thought he was kind. For that, she loved him. It shows how little kindness was in her life. Whatever Randy did, he didn't deserve--"

"I know," Sam cuts him off. "Dean and Y/N have had to kill before, but that was--"

Okay, Dean has had enough eavesdropping.

"That was what?" Dean asks while walking into the library. "Call it what you want but that was a massacre. There was a time I was a hunter, not a stone-cold killer." Sam and Cas look at each other. "You can say it. You're not wrong. I crossed the line."

God, Dean can be so emotional sometimes. You're standing in the war room behind the wall so that they can't see you, but you can hear everything they're saying.

"This thing has got to go, and it has to be gone from Y/N, too. She did most of the killing. She was more brutal than I was. I can see she enjoyed it more than I did. We have to get rid of it."

You touch the spot where your Mark is in thought. You don't want it gone. You like the power it gives you. You'll kill a lot of people if they even think about taking this from you.

"That won't be easy," Cas says.

"Then burn it off! Cut it off! I don't care!"

"It's more than just a physical thing. It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect."

"Dean, we have been through the lore. There's nothing on how to remove it."

You smirk. You have to make sure it stays that way.

"This reaches back to the time of creation," Cas explains. "It may pre-date the lore. If we had the demon tablet, maybe, but it's missing." Sam and Dean look defeated so Cas tries to think of a different way to get information. "There may be another way."

"What?"

"You're not going to like it."

"When do I ever? What is it?" Dean sighs.

"We need Metatron."

"That asshat?" you scoff and walk into the library. "You want to bring the man who killed my husband into our lives again?" You smirk. "I might just kill him."

"You're not doing anything," Dean glares. "Sam and Cas are going to get him. You're staying here with me."

"Boo. You're boring," you roll your eyes.

The entrance to Heaven must not be far since they weren't gone for a long time. They came back with the most hated angel and placed him in the dungeon. He hasn't seen you or Dean yet, and you can only assume Sam is waiting for a dramatic moment to bring you two in.

"Now you can't put me in here. You rented out my room."

"Lovely room," Metatron grins. "It's where you bring the kinky chicks, am I right?"

"I'll ask the questions here." Sam puts angelic chains around Metatron to keep him there so he can't leave. Not that he wants to. He wants to see what will happen. "Your only job is to provide information."

"Well, information does happen to be a specialty. I've got about two billion fun facts up here," he points to his temple to indicate his brain. "Of course, whether I choose to cough one up or not is another matter."

"We need to know how to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean and Y/N."

"What? They're back? Because of the Mark? So, he's a demon?"

"No."

"Okay, what then?" Sam looks troubled which shows just how worried he is. "What, did he kill a human or something?" Sam crosses his arms and glares at him. "He's gone nuclear! Total, foaming-at-the-mouth, balls-out-maniac, nuclear! What about Y/N? What happens to a witch who takes on the Mark? Has she died yet?"

"Do you know how to remove it?"

"Maybe, but here's the thing. If you expect any help out of me, you keep that crazy brother of yours and your witch on a short leash."

"Buddy, I don't care what happens to you. You killed my brother," Sam glares.

Sam moves out of the way and that's when you and Dean walk into the room. Metatron is kind of scared but he tries to hold his composure. He looks you up and down and looks as if he is analyzing you.

"You don't have your magic anymore. You're soulless."

"You want to know the best thing about being soulless?" you ask and walk to the metal table with torture devices on it. You pick up the shiny angel blade and twirl it in your hands. "I can do this and not give a single fuck about it."

You pull your arm back and fling the blade at Metaron, grinning when it sticks into his shoulder. He can't go anywhere with being chains and all, but he convulses in his chair as he yells out in pain. Dean and Sam immediately go to you to hold you back otherwise you'd have done more damage. Dean holds you back while you use all your strength to get him off you.

"Let me go!" you scream. "Let me kill him!"

Metatron stares at you with fearful eyes but Dean removes you from the dungeon altogether. You're unhinged and he doesn't know what you're capable of.

"Keep her the hell away from me," Metatron cries out in pain when Sam yanks out the angel blade. "She's fucking psycho!"

"You know what, screw the Mark. Let's just kill him," Dean says.

"Boy, you two really are a mess. Who knew the Mark was so toxic? Well, I did." He looks at Dean. "It's going to own you sooner than later. It's already owned her."

"How do we get rid of it?" Sam asks.

"What, just like that, social hour's over?"

"Yes, so unless you'd like me to bring Y/N back in, I suggest you start talking."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, badass! Lighten up! Why do you just assume I'm not gonna be helpful?"

"You're a coward and a dick," Dean glares.

"But I'm your dick." Metatron ignores the coward part. "I have a special place in my non-heart for you three. I'd be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit. To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old bud--the First Blade."

"What?"

"As I said before, life is a bitch."

Sam and Dean leave the dungeon and you kick yourself off the wall when you see them.

"Is he dead? If not, can I kill him?"

"No," Dean says. You three walk to the library to speak in private. "I think we should get the blade."

"That is the single worst idea I've ever heard," Sam argues. "You two just whacked a whole house full of people, and that's with the Blade nowhere around. Now you wanna be in actual contact with it?"

"We don't know that I have to be in contact with it. All we know is that we need it."

"No, all we know is he says we need it. We don't even know what he wants us to do with it."

"One step at a time, alright? We play it safe, we learn whatever the spell is, and how it works, and we keep the Blade out of our hands."

"I agree with him. We need the blade," you say.

"Are you sure this isn't the Mark making you want the damn thing?" Dean takes out his phone. "I mean, why would we trust anything Metatron says?"

"I don't trust him."

"You don't tru--then what are you doing?"

"What's his game if he is lying? The Blade without me is useless. The Blade with me is trouble for him."

Dean makes a call and places the phone to his ear.

"What does he want?"

"I don't know, but if we weren't willing to take a shot, then what was the point of bringing him here?"

"Do you have a better idea?" you ask Sam who just sighs.

"Squirrel," Crowley answers over speakerphone. "It's been a while. Back to your former self?"

"Crowley. We need to meet ASAP."

"Where?"

"Somewhere in town. I'll text you." Dean hangs up. "Let Metatron sweat. He's not going anywhere. Come on."

Sam and Dean are forcing you to go with them because they don't trust you alone with Metatron knowing you might kill him. Plus, Cas is there to make sure he doesn't go anywhere. If Metatron has taught you anything is that he's scrappy. Crowley took twenty minutes to meet up with you but he came alone per Dean's instruction. Not like Crowley would have anyone with him.

"I need you to get the Blade. We might have a way to get the Mark off Y/N and Dean." Crowley is stunned into silence. "Really, Crowley? Radio silence? Say something."

"You want me to do what?"

"We need you to get the Blade."

"I don't think so."

"You don't have to give the thing to me or Y/N."

"No thanks."

"You're not listening. Get it but hold onto it until we need it."

"Moose, you're the sane one right now. Are you on board with this?" Sam nods. "You're fucking insane. You want me to procure the most dangerous weapon on the planet for Dean and Y/N Winchester, the two people who go mental every time they touch it! I thought you'd wanna go for a beer or catch a film."

"If this plan works--"

"It's not a plan," Crowley cuts Sam off. "It's a probable death sentence for me and my kind."

"If it works, it's better for you. Look, when the Mark is gone, the Blade can't operate. Win-win."

"It can't operate. It's hidden."

"Okay, the Blade might be powered down, but the Mark isn't. I'm doing everything I can to keep it together."

"Yeah, you're not really doing a good job at that. You're kind of pathetic," you say to Dean.

Dean chooses to ignore your hurtful jab.

"You think the body count is high now? Just wait. We're only going to get worse. We need the blade. We figure you stashed it somewhere far away."

"Damn right. It's in a crypt with my bones."

"Go get them."

"I hate Guam this time of year," Crowley sighs and disappears.

You three head back to the Bunker where Cas is in the library. Dean and Sam inform him what's going on but the angel isn't too fond of the plan.

"The First Blade is back in play and Crowley is the one getting it? I don't mean to be an alarmist, but you--"

"Save the lecture, Cas. When we screw ourselves we like to go whole big."

"This would be the Crowley who let the Blade turn Dean into a demon?"

"We kind of don't have a choice, okay? If we don't do this, I'm down the rabbit hole. Hear evil, see evil, do evil. The trifecta."

"I don't mind that," you smirk.

"Cas, look. Let us worry about this. You've got enough on your plate with Claire," Sam says.

"Trouble in paradise?" you ask.

"Claire is gone."

"Gone where?"

"I don't know, I should have stopped her, but I am certain that she is destined for more trouble and disappointment. She is so... so full of rage."

"Listen, man, if I could make it better I would."

"It's actually why I'm here. I was hoping you might reach out to her."

"Me?" Dean asks, surprised.

"Yes.

"I'm probably the last person she would wanna hear from."

"I thought there would be a connection. From one extremely messed up human to another, you could explain why you murdered her only friend."

"Oh, when you put it like that, okay," Dean says sarcastically.

"All I know is that she won't talk to me. I thought if she understood the kind of man Randy was and the danger she was in, she might... I don't know."

"What the hell, why not? Long shots seem to be the theme around here. I'm gonna go make a sandwich."

"I'll text you her number."

Dean leaves the room to make himself a sandwich in the kitchen, and you watch him leave with a suspicious look.

"You need to let Claire go. She doesn't want you in her life. Have you thought that by helping her, you're hurting her? You stole her dad from her. She hates you," you smirk and look at Cas.

"Why are you so calm about this? We're on a mission to get rid of the Mark. I'm not stupid. I know you want it," Sam says.

"Mmm, got me all figured out, don't you?" You get up and stalk over to Sam who shrinks back into his seat. "I'd love nothing more than the ram an angel blade into his heart. Do you know what's stopping me?" You point to the thing on your neck. "This because, apparently, I need babysitting. Putting this thing on me might have been the best thing you ever did because I would have killed you in your sleep already. Don't mistake my calmness for not wanting someone dead."

Dean hears the threat you gave Sam as he is making himself a sandwich. He sets the ingredients down when he gets a blinding headache. He bends over, rests his elbows on the kitchen island, and puts his head in his hands.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[baekhansol]

N.D.A | f.l

ℕ𝕠𝕟 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝔸𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 (ℕ.𝔻.𝔸.) noun

a contract by which one or more parties agree not to disclose confidential information that they have shared with each other as a necessary part of doing business together.

Happy Birthday, Felix Lee!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff!

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mature

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : best friend Felix x gn + nonverbal reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader is nonverbal, JYP is an asshole, wanting to lie about having been eating well, food/eating, mentions of wearing masks, I think that's it ?

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : Felix has always been your best friend, and takes care of you when you can't

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : this was beta read by the lovely Dee Dee over at @sugasbabiie . Her notes and edits were wonderful as always 💜

this is also a friendly reminder that my blog contains nsfw elements, so do not follow me if you are a minor.

At one simple glance into your eyes, once allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability with your best friend, Felix knew what a terrible day you must have had. He immediately pulls you into a warm hug, pausing in case he meets resistance before squeezing you and holding you tightly.

"Have you eaten well?" He softly asks you, playing with your hair as he sways you back and forth.

You wanted to lie and say yes. You really did. But you couldn't get yourself to respond that way, so instead, you shake your head no.

"I'll make something then," he says simply, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

Felix finds tears welling up in your eyes, so he cups your cheek with one hand. "Have you taken your meds?" He checks.

When you nod, his expression gives away a brief flash of relief before turning back to genuine concern.

"Good. Why don't you go put your pajamas on and start getting ready for bed then, hmm?" He suggests, smiling sweetly.

You hesitate, considering saying no. You rack your brain, but the fog from your mental state makes the task difficult. You were fairly certain you'd never been braless around Felix before, but at the same time, you really didn't want to wear one.

"It's okay, y/n," he softly assures you.

Looking into his eyes, you remind yourself he has sisters. So you nod as a soft whimper accidentally escapes you.

You retreat to the bathroom, scrubbing your face harshly as you wash it. You try to get rid of the self-hatred and body insecurities that consumed your entire body, but particularly your face. Of course, it didn't help.

A whine of irritation escapes you before you apply the rest of your skincare. Afterwards, you slowly shuffle to your bedroom. You stare at what pajamas you have clean (which isn't much) and end up in a long sleeved shirt to hide your arms and pajama shorts. You made sure the pair wasn't too free flowing, as you didn't want to flash Felix by some weird accident since you didn't wear underwear to bed.

You slowly shuffle out to the kitchen, finding Felix at the stove throwing something together. Padding closer, you notice him making ramen. You ask him what he is doing with a soft “Hm?”

He gestures for you to come closer before speaking, “You had some ramen, so I’m making it with eggs. And now I’m adding in vegetables, see?”

When you nod, he smiles. “Do you want to grab a bowl for yourself? I already ate,” Felix assures you.

You nod and timidly get yourself a bowl and chopsticks, your hands unsteady. You manage to set down the bowl without dropping it, and Felix notices your lack of stability.

He moves from the stove, getting a plastic cup with a lid and straw, pouring you a cup of water before getting himself a glass. Felix sets it at the table before returning to the stove, getting your ramen together in your bowl. “Will you sit down, Y/N?” he asks gently.

You nod and sit, sipping your water and swinging your legs. Felix soon places the bowl in front of you, and you begin to eat slowly. He sits next to you after getting a napkin, watching you to ensure you don't eat too quickly.

Following “Dr. Lee’s” orders, you finish the entire bowl of ramen. Once done, he inquires, “Go brush your teeth, okay? Do you need to take your night meds?”

You pout but nod, getting up and taking the cup of water with you. You take your medicine before slowly brushing your teeth, trying not to let the sensation overwhelm you. When you finally finish, you pad back out to find Felix, who was currently cleaning the dishes.

You huff at him, upset that he was doing them for you. He wasn’t just doing the ones he cooked with, but even the ones you had left in the sink.

He says nothing but smiles when you hug him from behind and bury your face into his shirt. When he finishes and dries his hands, you drag him to the bathroom and get out a spare toothbrush, silently offering him to stay overnight.

“Go lay in bed; I’ll come and join you soon,” he says. When you nod, he takes the toothbrush and gets himself ready for bed.

You lay in bed playing games on your phone, curling up under your sheets. Felix soon comes back, grabbing a book off your bookshelf. He sets his phone on your bedside table, placing his there as well. Felix sits on your bed, leaning against the wall and spreading his legs.

“Come here,” he suggests, patting the spot between his legs.

You hesitate before sitting up, moving to sit in his lap, resting against his chest. He opens the book in front of you, making you giggle when you realize what it is.

“Didn’t your mom buy you this?” he asks, kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. You nod as he opens the book. “I still can’t believe she knew it was a Star Wars storybook and didn’t think it was a children’s book,” he laughs.

A little giggle escapes you, and Felix beams. He begins to read, his gentle voice helping to lull you to sleep. When he finishes the book, he helps you lay down and tuck you in. He puts the book back and turns off the light, smiling at the soft whine escaping you.

You wiggle a little, subconsciously craving his hold. "Lixie?" You manage to murmur, not even realizing it was your first words since he came over. But he knew.

"I’m here," he assures you, climbing into bed with you and spooning you. Felix wraps his arm loosely around your waist, handing you one of your stuffies to cuddle. "This okay?" He checks with you.

You nod, relaxing into him and falling back asleep.

"I love you," Felix says lowly, and you can't quite tell if you were dreaming or not. You two had said that you love each other plenty of times before, but this time seemed different.

You wake up in the morning alone and immediately begin to panic.

"Felix?" You cry out, stumbling out of bed.

You're quick to find him in the kitchen and nearly cry out of relief.

"I didn't leave; I'm just making breakfast," he assures you, setting down the spatula and hugging you close.

When you pull away, he looks at you intently, a smile creeping onto his face. "Good morning, sweetheart," Felix says, causing you to blush.

"Morning," you manage, glancing down.

"Go take your medicine. And don't worry about being nonverbal or not, okay?" Felix says.

You tried not to go nonverbal around others, but you had mentioned your frustration to Felix before. People, especially your parents, always ended up forcing you into talking. It made you uncomfortable and took up extra energy, exhausting you quicker. Felix was rather understanding at the time, but you were always afraid to be around him while nonverbal due to the struggle of communicating. But at the moment, it was going surprisingly well. You figure it's his patience and caring nature.

You go and do as he says, briefly wondering why he was telling you what to do and why you found it so easy to listen. You shrug and come back out, sitting at the table as Felix places a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

"Eat up, please," he says, joining you with a plate of his own.

You begin to eat, letting out a happy hum as you do.

Felix’s smile grows before he clears his throat. "I have to go into the studio today, but I'm not comfortable leaving you alone, even if I take all of your sharp objects," he admits, his expression turning serious.

You look intently at your plate, finding the yellow of the eggs to be a lovely color suddenly.

"Will you come to the studio with me? You can stay somewhere quiet and read for homework, if you'd like," Felix offers, watching closely for your reaction.

You'd never gone to the studio before. There had been times where Felix had said it would be okay, but you never had the chance. You wanted to, but you were worried about saesangs, getting Felix in trouble, starting a scandal… you had, and have, a lot of anxiety around it.

You hesitate before nodding slightly, causing Felix to grin in absolute delight.

"Okay! Great! And the second thing is… can I borrow clothes? I know you sometimes wear boxers to bed, and I just need a clean shirt and sweats…" Felix asks, and this time it was his turn to blush.

You laugh a little and nod, hoping your clothes would fit him.

"Great! Then after we get ready, I'll drive us there," he decides, smiling to make sure it was okay with you.

You nod in agreement, giving him a sense of relief.

You go use the bathroom, relieved that he didn't get up and leave without saying goodbye, or that the whole thing was a dream or strange hallucination. You take your medicine before going back to the kitchen, sitting at the table where Felix had already begun to eat.

You hum softly as you eat, letting him know to the best of your ability that you appreciate his actions.

Once you finish your plate, you bring them to the kitchen sink and wash them. You go to pick up the pan, but you can tell it’s too hot to wash. You leave it aside to cool down, drying your dishes as Felix washes his own.

After drying your hands as well, you head to your room with Felix to get ready for the day.

Felix helps you make your bed, but you manage to do most of it yourself so it was made the way you like it. You sit down and hug one of your pillows, watching as Felix goes through your clothes and picks something out to wear. He ends up picking out your clothes as well, getting you a soft shirt, your favorite pants, and a hoodie that he could have sworn belonged to him at one time.

He opens your underwear drawer before you can stop him, a noise of distraught escaping you. Felix ignores it just as he ignores your sex toys and lubricant, finding a pair of boxers for himself and a soft, simple pair of cotton panties for you along with a wireless bra.

Felix shuts the drawer and sets what he chose for you on the bed, the soft blush adorning his cheeks visible.

"I'll change in the bathroom, ok?" He states, gathering his borrowed clothes and shutting the door behind him.

In shock, you stare at the door for a moment before managing to get yourself dressed and tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper. You get up and head to the bathroom, greeted with an open door. Felix had already changed and was borrowing your hairbrush.

"Sorry," he apologizes, somewhat sheepishly.

You shake your head and dismiss it with a wave of your hand, silently letting him know you didn't mind.

"Turn around," he says.

You give him a confused look but turn around regardless, watching his reflection in the mirror. Felix runs the brush through your hair, careful about your ears. He sets the brush down and runs his fingers through your hair, braiding it. Felix then ties it off with a hair tie, beaming in pride at his creation.

You give him an appreciative smile before he asks, "are you ready?"

You shake your head, pulling out your makeup.

"You know you don't have to," he begins.

You shake your head more stubbornly, crossing your arms with a huff before you point to your concealer. Felix chuckles, and much to your surprise, he begins to do your makeup. You turn to lean against the sink, watching as he concentrates on doing your makeup. His soft breath fans over your cheeks, and you were secretly glad you gave him a toothbrush.

Felix doesn't take long, giving you only base makeup. He does your eye makeup very simply, looking through your lip products before choosing the one he wants for you. Felix applies the glossy tint, his concentration on your lips causing you to blush.

"There," he softly murmurs, stepping back for you to look in the mirror as he pockets the lip tint.

You beam at him, turning and hugging him. He gently rubs your back before leading you to the door.

"Ugh, socks!" He remembers, turning back and heading to your bedroom.

You laugh and go to the kitchen, somehow managing to start cleaning the dishes. Felix comes back and looks confused, only to realize what you were doing. He helps by drying the dishes, watching as you tie up the trash.

"Eggs," you say pointedly.

"Good idea," he hums, going and putting on his shoes.

You notice he grabbed your backpack and keys, so you put your own shoes on.

As you throw out the trash, Felix goes and starts your car. You soon join him, using the hand sanitizer you carry for situations like this.

Felix turns on soft music, driving to the company after ensuring you were both wearing your seatbelts.

Once he parks, he grabs masks from his bag for you both. Felix puts his on before going to the passenger side door and helping you with yours. He slings your backpack over his shoulder, locking your car before leading you inside. You don’t notice Felix’s fingers twitching, but you did wish you were holding hands. Even in your sensitive state, you knew holding hands here and to the JYP building was not a good idea, as the possibility of saesangs taking a photo and starting drama was too high for either of your likings.

Once inside, security tries to stop you. “It’s okay, they’re with me,” he assures the guard, taking your hand as he shows them his ID.

The security guard stares you down before nodding and taking both of your temperatures. The guard stands to the side, letting Felix take you to the elevator and towards their practice room. He doesn’t let go of your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Once off the elevator, another security member is about to stop you before they notice Felix holding your hand. “Excuse us,” he says, leading you around them. Their puzzled expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you were glad they didn’t try to stop you.

He stops outside a room, pointing to it. “This is Channie hyung’s room, okay? If you need to go there for somewhere quieter, he won’t mind,” Felix explains, quickly pulling out his phone to check something. “Then we are practicing in this room today,” he says, leading you to a different door and opening it.

It was loud, as some of the others were stretching, talking, and dancing. Hyunjin smiles and waves as soon as he notices you, while most of the others shout their greetings. Changbin runs over and is about to hug you, but Felix stands in front of you, since Changbin was prone to hugging without asking.

“Do you want a hug?” Felix asks you, wanting you to be comfortable.

You hesitate before nodding, stepping around Felix and hugging Changbin. Changbin picks you up and spins you around, giggles escaping you.

“How are you? I can’t believe you came!” Changbin cheers as he sets you down, a grin on his face.

You step back into Felix, who gently holds your shoulders as you lose your balance. You look up at him, worry clouding your features.

“Y/N is… having some trouble talking right now. So, simple yes or no questions work best for them,” Felix explains, squeezing your shoulders reassuringly before letting you go.

“Oh, okay,” Changbin says, nodding despite not clearly understanding. “Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know,” he adds, smiling.

You shrug a little, feeling your cheeks heat up.

���They don’t normally leave home when it happens. They generally are stressed and overwhelmed, so it helps them cope and is easier just to let them… communicate in other ways,” Felix further explains, moving to stand next to you and resting his hand on your back.

When you tense up, he withdraws his hand, but you stop him by grabbing his arm and shaking your head. Felix gently rubs soothing circles on your back as you accommodate yourself with the new space.

Chan comes over at the same time, smiling brightly. “It happens normally to neurodivergent people, right? Especially autistic ones?” Chan asks, looking at you for confirmation. You nod, and he continues. “Is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” he asks. When you nod a second time, Chan places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes lightly. “I’m happy you came! If you need a break, you can go to my studio room, okay? Did Felix show you where it is?”

You nod, glancing at Felix.

“Okay, good! Today might not be the best day though,” he admits, looking to Felix.

“What do you mean by that?” Felix asks, rubbing your back.

Chan removes his hand from your shoulder and says in a hushed voice, “JYP is supposed to come to practice today.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Felix responds with a tight lipped smile.

Once Felix makes sure you are comfortable sitting down, he produces earplugs from his pocket (you have no idea where or how he got them), and sets them in the palm of your hand. “In case it gets too loud,” he murmurs, smiling.

He straightens up as the choreographer enters the room, who they greet and thank. They soon start practicing, and you find yourself carefully stuffing the earplugs in your ears. You watch them in awe, looking at each of them practicing the new moves. Your eyes always come back to Felix, and you soon find yourself grinning like a fool. The song was amazing, and you wrote a note down in your phone to tell Chan, Changbin, and Jisung later on.

Right as they start a break, JYP himself comes into the room. You look up from your phone, the blood draining from your face as you try to meet Felix’s eyes. They immediately turn around and greet him, bowing and thanking him for his time.

“Show me what you have so far,” JYP says, heading towards you, standing in front of the mirror. That’s when he notices you. His eyes narrow and he walks over to you, and you immediately bow in greeting.

You feel the anxiety bubbling in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you as your breathing becomes irregular.

“You’re not an intern. Who are you?” he inquires, resting his hands on his hips.

You gape up at him, but thankfully Felix is quick to come to your aid.

“Sorry, JYP! This is my partner, Y/N. They can’t talk right now, since their doctor has their voice on rest-” Felix begins, only to be interrupted. Your eyes widen in shock as he introduces you as his partner, quickly trying to hide your surprise as he lies for you.

“So they’re sick? They shouldn’t be here then!” JYP demands, his face reddening in anger.

“No! They just aren’t supposed to talk because they had vocal chord surgery, that’s all!” he explains, doing his best to pull the lie.

Felix’s words seem to console and calm JYP, who huffs.

“Someone’s going to have to give them a non-disclosure agreement then,” he huffs, looking at the staff as if to tell them they needed to. “I will have a conversation with you later, Yongbok,” JYP sneers.

You knew Felix was in for it, but he gives you a charming smile before starting to practice.

You notice JYP’s glare every now and then, so when they take a break you make a beeline for the door, heading to Chan’s studio room and sending Felix a text with an explanation. You’re so caught up in remaining calm and composed that you almost bump into who turns out to be Mina from Twice.

Your eyes widen and you apologize, bowing and managing to say a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Once in Chan’s studio room, you move his chair and curl up under his desk. You put the hood of your hoodie over your head, doing some deep breathing. You take out the earplugs and put them in your pocket before turning on some soft, soothing music.

You close your eyes and don’t realize you had fallen asleep until Felix comes in the room, calling your name. Before he panics, he notices you under the desk. He bends down and offers you his hand, saying, “C’mon, you must be uncomfortable.”

You take it and he helps you stand up, your back popping as you do so.

“Are you hungry? It’s been a while since breakfast, and we all stopped and had lunch,” he explains, gently letting go of your hand.

You shove the hood off of your head, grabbing his forearms. “Did you mean what you said?” you ask, your eyes wide as your cheeks flush.

“What I said?” he asks, perplexed.

You stare at him for a moment before blurting, “You called me your partner…”

“Oh,” Felix says, his voice small. “About that…” he begins, subtly checking his pulse before rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable…”

“Do you want me to be your partner?” you bluntly rephrase.

Felix’s cheeks turn pinker and pinker as he nods ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about asking you before, but never did. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way, and you’re my best friend…” he murmurs.

“Well…” you shyly begin. “You’re patient, caring, and help me when I go nonverbal. You’re understanding of my space and sometimes I swear you know me better than myself. You’re… Well, pretty much everything I want in a boyfriend…”

“Really?” Felix asks, surprised at your admission.

“Yeah…” you murmur with a nod, glancing downwards as you loosen your grip on his arms. You look back up and bite your lip before shyly asking, “Will you kiss me?”

Felix blinks, but smiles before pulling down both of your masks and giving you a soft kiss on your lips. You whine softly, so he cups your cheek and kisses you again.

After he pulls away, he smiles and giggles, “So about that non disclosure agreement…”

[silverarmedassassin]

Home For the Holidays (1)

Bucky x Reader | Words: 8,608 | Warnings: None 

A/N: Happy holidays and happy December 16! This is my holiday submission for @wonderlandmind4 Fall/Winter challenge. My prompt was: B is very enthusiastic to introduce A to all their traditions, but tries to be sensitive when A seems like they’re struggling to fit in/enjoy themselves. 

I’ve been working on this guy for so long, so I decided to split this up into two parts. Part two will be posted this weekend! I’m so happy to finally be sharing this bad boy with you all! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. Happy reading!🎄

From the time he was a young boy, Bucky has had an aversion towards the elderly. Which is ironic considering since, technically speaking, he is the elderly now. It’s not that he doesn’t like old people; it’s just that they make him uncomfortable. Which is why, on a balmy Sunday in October, when he walks into the Brooklyn Manor nursing home, he feels his skin crawl.

This trip has been a long time coming. Two years on the run, a voluntary deep freeze, a universal war, and the obliteration of half the earth’s population and its subsequent return, to be exact. But no amount of time would ever prepare Bucky for the visit he was about to make. But it was “essential to his healing,” as Sam so often liked to say. This, along with therapy and the establishment of a place of his own outside of the Tower, was meant to help him move past what had happened to him, help him see that he was a victim and that people still loved him despite what he was forced to do for all of those years.

"Good morning," a cheery redhead says from her spot behind the front desk. "Can I he-" She cuts herself off when she looks up from the computer screen and sees who is looming over her.

"Er, hi," Bucky says, suddenly convinced this is a terrible idea. He should expect nothing less, considering his line of work, both current and past. "I was told Rebecca Proctor lives here..."

It took a second for the woman to register what Bucky had said, but then she jumps into action and begins to type into her computer. "Of course! Are you a relative?"

"Brother."

Her eyes go wide for a second before it clicks. "Oh my goodness, of course." The woman grabs a sticky note from the pad next to her keyboard and scribbles down a series of numbers before handing it to him. "Her room number is 117. This is the code to get into the residence portion of the building. If you need help finding the room, there should be a nurse's station in every hall."

Bucky offers a tight smile and nod of appreciation as he takes the slip of paper from the woman. As he makes his way deeper into the facility, he can feel his nerves waxing and waning with each step. He shouldn't be nervous. It was just Becca, just his little sister, one of the last living ties to his life before all of this. But it had been so long, who knew if she would even recognize him?

When Bucky recruited Sam to help him find out where, or even if, his sister was living, he figured it would be a fruitless quest. He was surprised, however, when Sam came to him a week later with the address of the building he was currently attempting to navigate, shyly dipping his head every time he would pass an older woman in a wheelchair or a group of men concentrating on a board game. Sam had managed to hunt her down with a little help from his Avenger title. The nurse couldn't give him much information since he wasn't a relative or listed on her medical files, but what she could share broke Bucky's heart.

At 102 years old, technically a little less since she was a Snap victim, Becca's memory was less than stellar. Her children had made the tough decision to place her in a home after her mind had started to slip, and she was no longer able to care for herself. It makes Bucky feel guilty because he wasn't around to help.

But today, hopefully, that would change.

After a little wandering and a helpful point from a nurse, Bucky finds himself standing in front of the oversized, thick oak door with a golden plaque in the center proudly displaying "117." He waits a moment, listens for any sign that someone is in the room, but all he hears are the general noises of a nursing home just after lunchtime. He raises his hand to knock but stops short of making contact. Should he knock? What if she’s sleeping? He wouldn't want to wake her. He decides to slowly press the door open instead.

He enters the room slowly, unsure of what he will be greeted with when he reaches the end of the short hall blocking his view from his sister's bed. What he sees, however, thoroughly surprises him. Instead of finding a small, frail body lying in a too-sterile hospital-grade bed, he finds his sister sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of her window, quietly looking out into the garden just outside. After a moment of shifting back and forth on his feet, Bucky clears his throat in an attempt to catch Becca's attention.

The woman slowly turns her head to eye the intruder, and, to Bucky's amazement, a slight look of recognition flashes across her face. Despite her age and sunken appearance, her bright blue eyes still shine as brilliant as they did when she was a little girl. He focuses on those eyes as he slowly crosses the room to her.

"Hey, Becca. Do you," Bucky grimaces as the falter in his voice caused by the tears that are starting to form in his own blue eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

To save his sister from having to crane her frail neck to look up at him, he settles himself into the chair across from hers. The smooth velvet is cool on his overheated skin, and he could sink into the feeling of comfort it gives him. Another piece of home, he thinks as a picture of his family's home flashes across his mind, the two chairs nestled in a similar position to how Becca has them now.

Rebecca studies her brother for a moment before a thin but bright smile spreads across her aged features, and Bucky lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You're from the pictures. Just over there."

Bucky watches as a boney finger points to the dresser, the top neatly cluttered with picture frames and trinkets, a sign that his sister had lived a full and happy life after he'd gone. He gets up and makes his way to the piece of furniture to better look at the mixture of black and white and colored photos scattered together. It's strange, he thinks, seeing his sister's life play out across the years in the span of just a few short seconds. When he lands on a black and white photo in an aged frame, he freezes. Smiling back at him are his parents, Bucky himself sitting in front of them on their home's front steps, and Becca nestled snugly in their mother's arms. From when they first brought her home, Bucky thinks to himself as he reaches out and caresses the delicate glass. He moves on to another older photo, this one depicting the two Barnes children dressed in their Sunday best with a scrawny Steve Rogers thrown into the mix. Bucky shakes his head at the sight of his best friend, remembering all the trouble he used to get the two of them in.

The last photo he sees, though, causes a lump to rise and settle in his throat. Frozen in time in the cracked and fading film is the last time he ever saw his family. Bucky, Rebecca, and their parents stand on the dock just in front of the boat he was to ship off on. Becca and his mother have a tight grip on him, and his father only offers a tight smile to the camera. Looking at the image of his younger self, not too different from what he looks like now, is a heart-wrenching moment. The man in that photo has yet to see death first-hand, feel the visceral need to kill or be killed. That man was still innocent, naive to the world, and convinced he was invincible.

Bucky remembers that day and how, despite the nerves, excited he was to see someplace other than dinghy Brooklyn. Yeah, that war wasn't one he signed up to fight, but he'd made a promise to himself he would do what he needed to keep his ma and sister safe.

As he reaches for the frame, a soft knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. "Mrs. Proctor!" a sweet voice sing-songs as the door is pushed open once again. "I hope you didn't fill up at lunch. I brought-Oh!"

Standing in the doorway, both hands full of reusable bags filled to the brim with goodies of all sorts, is a young woman. Her smile, one of the prettiest Bucky's ever seen, he thinks, falters just a little when she sees his towering form taking up so much space in Becca's room. However, she recovers quickly and nudges the door shut behind her as she makes her way deeper into the room.

"I didn't know you were expecting company this afternoon," the woman says and deposits the bags onto the bed. "Who is this?"

Bucky studies the woman in an attempt to figure out who she is to his sister. She couldn't be a daughter or granddaughter, right? She looked nothing like them. Plus, she was calling her Mrs. Proctor. Bucky also felt confident in his ruling that she was not a nurse or staff member at the facility, considering she wasn't wearing scrubs or donning a facility badge.

The only indication that she even belongs in this facility is the sticker she wears proudly just above her heart, with "Y/N" scrawled in bright red letters.

"The pictures," Becca finally says with a smile, pointing towards Bucky. "He's from the pictures."

Their visitor looks between Bucky and Rebecca with a soft look somewhere between pity and a faint sense of joy. "Bucky," the frail old woman says, and Bucky instantly feels the lump that had settled into his throat not ten minutes earlier begin to grow again.

Y/N must sense the energy shift in the room because she quickly pulls out a few homemade goodies wrapped in cellophane and places them on the rolling table next to Becca's bed. "Well, I'll let you be with your visitor, Mrs. Proctor," she says as she shoulders her bags again. "I'll see you Tuesday evening, okay?"

Becca simply nods as she watches the younger woman make her exit, then shifts her attention to Bucky as he steps back towards her and crouches down.

"Bec, you remember me?"

She says nothing at first but brings her hand up to rest on Bucky's freshly shaved cheeks, a fresh set of tears gathering in their twin blue eyes. "You came back."

Bucky sits with his sister for two hours after they reacquaint themselves. The nurse that spoke with Sam was right; it was difficult to be around her, as she often slipped up with her memory. She couldn't remember the names of her grandchildren, nor her great-grandchildren, but when she saw their smiling faces looking back at her in the pictures, she knew they belonged to her. Her fragile mind, however, seemed to favor older faces and memories. She could recall events from when she was a teenager and even got some details right from when Bucky shipped off. The remembrance came with a repeat of the same stories two or three times, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was never around to bear witness to some of these stories, and it was just good to hear his sister’s voice again.

It's around 3 o'clock when Rebecca begins to grow tired, and so Bucky takes that as his cue to take his leave. He helps his sister into her bed for a pre-dinner nap, then quietly makes his exit when he is sure she is fast asleep. For a visit he was hesitant to make, he can't think of a better way to have spent his Sunday afternoon.

As Bucky makes his way back through the winding halls of the facility, a jaunty tune he recalls from his teenage days plays through his head, and he feels like he could face the world if needed, which is why he finds himself doing the unimaginable as he reaches the redhead at the front desk.

“Excuse me,” he says with a renewed sense of confidence that had been absent earlier in the day. “I don’t know if you can give me this information, but there was this woman...Y/N I think her name is. I don’t think she was a nurse, but maybe someone else that works here? Would you be able to tell me if she was still around?”

The woman smiles gently back at him but shakes her head. “We’re such a large facility, I’d need to see a face to know exactly who you’re talking about.”

There’s a momentary lapse in his confidence, realizing just how weird the question could come off. He’s suddenly very glad she had no idea who he was talking about and hopes she doesn’t mention it to anyone else.

“Uh, thanks anyway,” he mutters as he gives a small nod. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Oh well, he thinks to himself, at least I could make it out my door this morning.

The Snap impacted each and every person differently. While most think the Vanished had it the worst, people tend to forget about those left behind. Many lost their jobs due to closures and shortages, others were evicted due to insufficient funds for rent. The uncertainty of it all, the not knowing what happened to family and friends, not knowing when you’d find your next job, if you’d have money to buy groceries this week, took a harder toll on some than others.

You had been a relatively fortunate one. Since moving to the city, you hadn’t quite made a large group of friends yet, which meant there were fewer people for you to lose. Your family had somehow lucked out as well. Due to an abundance of workers suddenly gone without a trace, you’d been able to snag a corporate position that you managed to hold onto even after the Snap was reversed.

However, the one downside was the aftermath of families coming back to their homes only to find that someone new was living in their space. That, unfortunately, happened to you. Two days after everyone reappeared, you had a knock on your front door. When you opened it, you found a lovely couple who had just been married before the Snap and had just started renting the apartment you were living in. And, even though you’d called this building your home for the past five years, you did what any half-decent individual would do and moved out. Goodbye state-of-the-art gym and central location, hello paper-thin walls, and a forty-five-minute one-way commute.

At least you were able to take a few days off of work to get your belongings out of the old apartment and into the new one. Most of the larger furniture had been the couple’s, which meant you only had to carry a few pieces into your second story Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The problem, however, was that there was no elevator in this renovated building, which meant you had to find a way to carry your low-quality Ikea TV stand up the too-narrow stairs without busting a wall or your furniture. The only thing you were close to bursting was a nerve because it was turning out to be more of a two-person task, and you were the only one participating in this moving process.

“Fuck you,” you groan as one of the stand’s legs gets caught on the stairs again. Despite the chilly breeze that was blowing in from the building’s front door you had propped open, you were perspiring more than would be deemed ladylike. With the rate you were going, you would need to need to take another full day off just to get your stupid furniture into your apartment.

“Do you need some help?” a voice calls from above you. You peek over your shoulder to find a rather tall, rather bulky man standing at the second-floor landing. It hadn’t even occurred to you that people might actually need to use the stairs to, you know, go about their daily lives. What doesn’t go over your head, however, is the fact that the man standing at the top of the stairs was not a complete stranger like you originally thought, but someone you knew almost too well for not actually knowing him at all.

“That would actually be wonderful,” you huff out a laugh, attempting to be nonchalant about the fact that Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier - soldier turned assassin turned Avenger - was standing just feet away from you for the second time in twenty-four hours, this time in your new apartment building. Maybe this place wasn’t as safe as you had thought?

He makes his way halfway down the stairs, and you attempt to shimmy out of the way so that he can grab the corners you had been holding up. “If you could just get this thing back down the stairs, I could-” Your meager offering of help is cut short when Bucky manages to slot his arms into place and life the entire piece like it was nothing. A metal arm will do that to someone, you suppose.

You awkwardly direct him to your apartment, shoving open the door to 2B and waving your arm to give him a vague idea of where you want the stand. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I thought for sure I was going to have to take the thing apart to get it up here.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Bucky says as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets, the stiff leather shifting and rubbing as he does so. When he looks at you for the first time, his bright blue eyes light up even more with recognition. “Hey, you were visiting my sister’s place the other day.”

“I was,” you laugh as you extend your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before a warm, leathered hand slips into yours. “Bucky,” he says as if you wouldn’t already know who he is. "Do you, uh, need help bringing anything else up?"

You watch him as he slowly glances around your small apartment, void of much except for a few boxes and the stand he just carried up and your mattress you've yet to shimmy into the bedroom. “Oh! No,” you laugh, realizing how pathetic your new home looks at the moment. “I have movers bringing the rest of my things from storage tomorrow. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem. If you, uh, ever need anything, I rent the unit above you. Not sure how often I’ll be home, but for whatever it’s worth,” he shrugs as you follow him back out your front door.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

Despite his nod of agreement, you don’t see Bucky for another two weeks. You try not to let the unexplained but forewarned absence weigh on your thoughts. With the exception of listening for the creaks of his floorboards that never come and the brief visits with his sister, you find yourself doing everything you can to not fixate on the Grecian god of a man you have somehow come to call a neighbor.

It’s not until you receive a call from Rebecca’s daughter that you finally admit he was home.

“Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry…” you choke out when Mary informs you her mother had passed away in the early hours of the night. Despite having no real relation to the Proctor family, you’d known them for a handful of years due to your time spent at the nursing home. In that time, they’d come to be like family to you, so their loss affected you just as strongly as the passing of your own family member would. “Have you told her brother?”

“No. We have no way to contact him. I know he’d spent some time with Ma at the nursing home, so I left a message for them to pass the news and my number on if he came in or called. But I haven’t heard anything.”

“I actually have a way to reach him. I’ll tell him to give you a call, okay?”

When you get home the following day, you’re greeted by the sound of Bucky’s shower turning on. Five minutes later, it shuts off. You give him another ten before you make your way up to his apartment. The idea of telling this man, a practical stranger who you knew nothing about other than what you’ve read in books and seen on tv, that his sister passed away leaves you feeling nauseous. This isn't exactly what you pictured when you said you’d see him around.

He’s quick to answer his door. You’re taken off guard when his door is pulled open to reveal his broad chest covered in a blue Henley that is clinging to his still-damp skin. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and remember exactly why you were here.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” he asks as you drag your eyes up to meet his own.

You clear your throat and shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts. “Uh, yeah. No? I’m sorry to bug you, but I, uh...You haven’t heard from Mrs. Pro-er, I mean Rebecca’s daughter, have you?” When he says no, you sigh. You knew that was the answer you were going to get, but a part of you still hoped you weren’t going to have to be the one to deliver this information. “Mary called me yesterday. She, uh...She wanted you to know...uh...Rebecca passed away...early yesterday morning…”

You can visibly see Bucky shift through several emotions - shock, grief, anger, to finally an almost expressionless mask. You unintentionally stiffen at the sound of metal shifting and grating together, which seems to break Bucky’s haze. You can tell he’s struggling to find words in that moment, so you continue on, hoping a coherent sentence will come out.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to hear this news from, but I couldn’t really give her a way to contact you and...Here!” You shove your hand out towards him, the small piece of paper you wrote Mary’s number down on resting in your palm. “I told her I’d give you her number. So you could call her or whatever.”

Bucky just looks at the slip for a moment before you clear your throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wi-”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he cuts you off and grabs for the paper. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go call her.”

Before you can respond, Bucky is turning his back. “Yeah, okay,” you whisper to the dark oak of his door before making your way back down to your own apartment.

“The service was beautiful, Mary,” you say as you hug Rebecca’s daughter. “She would have loved it.”

“It’s all thanks to Bucky. He paid for everything.” Mary says as she sets her gaze over your shoulder. “Or, I guess Uncle Bucky is more appropriate to say…”

You turn and follow her gaze to where the man in question is, his great-great nieces and nephew using him as their personal jungle gym. You can tell, even from across the room, that his face is absolutely glowing, eyes crinkled in the outer-corners with delight as Bridget, the youngest of the bunch, wraps her tiny arms around his neck and demands a horsey ride.

“I’m glad they’re taking it so well,” Mary says as she watches her grandchildren. “It’s almost like he’s been a part of their life this entire time instead of just appearing out of nowhere.” There’s no hostility in her voice when she says this. Rather, she sounds remorseful. “I went my entire life hearing stories about my uncle. My dead uncle. Yet, after all these years, he shows up looking exactly like he does in the pictures I’ve been looking at since I was a little girl.”

You felt for Mary and the rest of the family. You couldn’t begin to comprehend how difficult and confusing it must be to find out that the man you’d come to know as just a ghost story was alive and real and more than willing to be a part of even the most difficult moments in life. It’s a testament, you think, to how good of a man Bucky really is. Despite the horrors of his past and the apprehension he’s likely still faced with every day, he’s still willing to put himself out into a world that has been less than kind to him.

As if your thoughts summon him, Bucky looks up and over to where you are standing. When he catches your eye, his smile grows. You’re sure there has never been anything as beautiful as Bucky Barnes flashing a megawatt smile at you. “At least you’re in good hands.”

You decide not to stick around for the luncheon after the service so, after snagging a few refreshments and a quick chat with a few of the family members you recognize, you begin to inch your way closer to the exit. You hadn’t seen Bucky since you’d spoken with Mary, and you were in the middle of trying to figure out why that left you with a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re abruptly stopped on your way to the doors.

“You can’t leave before I get the chance to apologize for the other day,” Bucky says, a small smile gracing his face. He cleans up well, you decide as you get a better look at his lightly stubbled face. He has his hair tied back in a neat, low bun, which allowed his eyes to stand out more than they usually did, and a black-on-black suit is stretched just right over his broad chest. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was a model on loan to add some cheer to the rather dreary day.

Bucky quirks his head and shifts his body weight when it takes you a bit too long to answer, and it’s only then that you realize you’re ogling him. His sister just died, Y/N, you chastise yourself, this is not the time to be checking him out.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, hoping he can’t feel the heat that is rapidly clawing up your neck radiating from you. “I don’t want to intrude on family time,” you say rather lamely. It was true, but for whatever reason, Bucky left you feeling almost guilty.

He lets out a humorless laugh and crosses his arms. “If anyone is intruding, I think it’s me,” he says as he looks over your shoulder back into the banquet room the rest of the family is in.

You turn to follow his line of sight and can’t help but smile when you see one of his great-nieces twirling around, showing off her dress. “Nah, don’t say that. The little ones seem to love you,” you laugh, hoping to lighten the mood just a little.

Bucky chuckles and then sighs. “Yea, but I just...don’t feel like I belong.”

Hearing Bucky, this man who had his entire life ripped from him multiple times, who, after spending just a few short hours in total with, you ardently believed deserved every good thing in the world and then some, say that he feels he doesn’t belong among those who are supposed to love him most broke your heart. You know that it’s likely untrue that Rebecca’s family was anything but unwelcoming, but that Bucky even felt that way caused a pit to open in your stomach.

“Oh, Bucky…” you say softly, trying to avoid sounding full of pity. “I’m so sorry this all has happened to you.” He averts his gaze and shrugs. “You know what? I could probably stay for a little while longer…”

At that, Bucky looks back at you, eyes as bright as when his own sister recognized him on that very first day. You knew then that, no matter what, you’d do anything to keep that look on his face.

“I promise it won’t be for nothing. They have a ton of food, and I guess there are some famous deviled eggs that, not to sound awful but...are to die for.”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head as Bucky leads you back into the banquet room, excitedly rambling on about the various food items his relatives have to offer. After piling your plates full and grabbing a coffee, you follow Bucky to a small table conveniently tucked away in the corner. Over the next hour, you watch Bucky’s perfectly constructed walls begin to crumble just a little. You quickly uncover which topics make him uncomfortable, particularly those revolving around his current line of work and those he can talk about endlessly. You learn the ins and outs of what it was like being friends with Captain America before he was the size of a brick house. You also discover that Bucky is someone you could listen to talk for hours on end.

“I don’t think it ever came up,” Bucky says as he takes a seat back at the table, two fresh cups of coffee in hand, “how did you know my sister?”

You hum your thanks and take a sip before answering. “Well, a few years ago, or I guess a few years before the Snap, I started volunteering at the nursing home. You’d be surprised how many families just shove their parents or grandparents in those homes and forget about them. They get lonely and just want someone to talk to that isn’t a nurse or whatever. It got worse during those five years. Rebecca never really needed me to sit with her; her family visited all the time. However, she was still one of my favorite residents.

“She talked about you all the time, you know. Even when she couldn’t remember her own children’s names, she always had a story to tell about you. She was immensely proud of you.” Bucky grunts, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “She was a good storyteller. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was trying to pull my leg or not. She...she was something else, but she’s going to be dearly missed.”

A somber sort of silence falls between the two of you then. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s the kind charged with a unique sense of melancholy. It’s so strange, you think, to share a common heartbreak with someone you still barely know. Loss and grief have a curious way of bringing those once unknown together.

“Uncle Bucky,” a high-pitched squeal cuts through the moment and brings with it the excited, flushed face of an excited great-niece. “Uncle Bucky, I made you something!”

Bridget worms her way up onto Bucky’s lap, a piece of paper with her hand traced to look like a turkey in its center. “To Unkle Bucky, Luv Bridget” was written sloppily across the top.

You watch as Bucky’s expression goes from one of strain to that of absolute joy. “Thank you so much,” he smiles as he takes the paper and examines it as if it were a piece on display at the Louvre. “I know exactly where I’m going to hang this as soon as I find a frame.”

The little girl, who bears a striking resemblance to her long-lost great-uncle, beams as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. You catch Bucky’s eye, causing him to break into an even wider smile. You hope he can see how truly and unconditionally he is loved.

You watch as she scrambles off back to where her brother and cousin are sitting, coloring away. You nod at the sweet drawing. “Planning on spending Thanksgiving with them?”

Bucky smooths his hand over the paper in front of him and thinks for a moment. “They invited me. I guess they, we, have family in Indiana that they usually visit for the holiday. I just...I don’t think so. I don’t want to be that far from where I’m needed most, and I think meeting a whole new set of family would be a bit much, ya know?”

You hum in response, fully understanding the dilemma. It’s unfortunate, though. “Well, I’m sure I could never compete with a real home-cooked meal, but I’m staying home because I don’t...really agree with the holiday and will be heating up a nice frozen turkey TV dinner if you would like to join. I might just throw in a pumpkin pie, too.”

Bucky looks up then, a soft, small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Y/N, really. But I’m not sure. Might not even be home,” he shrugs.

“Well,” you say as you look at the time on your phone, “the offer stands just in case you change your mind. But, hey, I think it’s time for me to leave for real now. I have some work to catch up on before I go back to the office tomorrow.”

You can tell he’s disappointed, but Bucky offers to walk you out anyway. He wants to stay and help his family clean up, or he would offer to walk you home. You make your rounds to say goodbye to the family you were familiar with and, when you reach the kiddie table to say goodbye, Bucky’s great-nephew Jackson refuses to let you go.

“Will I ever see you again even though we can’t come to visit Grammy no more?” he wails as he buries his little face into your stomach.

“Jackson, please,” his mother says as she comes to diffuse the situation. The little boy lets out one last sob into your dress before letting his mother pull him into her arms. “Y/N will still be around,” she smiles mischievously, directing her gaze over your shoulder to where Bucky waits at the front doors. “I’m almost sure of it.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment as it claws up your neck, and you quickly give another round of hugs and goodbyes to the children before heading back to Bucky. “Is everything alright,” he asks as he hands you your coat.

“Fine. Jackson is just…” you slip on your coat and refuse to meet Bucky’s probing eyes, “dramatic sometimes.”

The weeks following Rebecca’s funeral saw Bucky locked away in his apartment. Calls from Sam and Wanda went unanswered, and the curtains were scarcely opened. He’d even ignored your attempts of delivering some semblance of comfort. The pasta dish you dropped off was left mostly untouched in his fridge, and he’d only managed to eat half a slice of a pumpkin pie you’d left for him on Thanksgiving. He knew that hiding away was doing nothing for his mental health, would do nothing to help him move past the loss and pain, but it was all he knew. How he reacted was all he could control, and Bucky liked to be in control.

His control, like most things in his life, came to an end far too quickly when Sam decided he’d finally had enough. Bucky knew that he couldn’t hide from his friends forever, but he would have liked to come out on his terms.

“Man, I know you’re in there,” Sam shouts as he knocks on the door of Bucky’s apartment. He’d been there for five minutes now, and, at this point, Bucky was testing to see how long he could keep the man waiting. “Seriously, Buck, open the door, or I’ll use Redwing to knock it down. And I won’t pay for repairs or reimburse your security deposit.”

Bucky sighs before hauling himself off of the couch. “What?” he deadpans as he opens the door. It takes everything in him not to slap the toothy grin off of Sam’s amused face.

“I was beginning to think I was going to have to call the Smithsonian - tell them to get your exhibit ready because, as far as any of us knew, you were dead,” Sam says as he pushes past Bucky into the apartment.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks again as Sam looks around the scarcely decorated apartment. From the discontent on his face, Bucky could tell Sam was less than thrilled with the state of his apartment. It was dark, the only furniture being a couch, a small coffee table, and an old TV he’d stolen from the Tower. Not exactly what one would consider a "space of their own."

“Listen,” Sam says as he moves to push open the curtains, “you’ve spent enough time locked up in here. You need to get out, see the sun, get some air. Plus, Wanda misses you, and that spider kid has been coming around asking for you.” Bucky grimaces at that. Peter Parker had asked his fair share of questions about his arm, and Bucky didn’t feel like entertaining the teenager anymore.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sam continues as he flops down on the couch. “Go get dressed. You can hang out with the crew for a few hours today. I promise if you have the worst time of your life, I’ll let you sit in your own filth and wallow for the foreseeable future, okay?”

After a moment of contemplation, Bucky agrees. Despite his dwindling interest in seeing anyone outside of his own reflection, he knew that seeing his friends - his chosen family of mix-matched misfits - would make him feel at least a little better. So, he allows Sam to tidy up the apartment, put away the dishes Bucky has been neglecting, and open the rest of the windows while he goes to get dressed. Bucky will never admit, however, just how much lighter he felt when he emerged from his room to the man he reluctantly called his best friend, smiling back at him.

December creeps up in a flurry of deadlines and personal obligations. The two-week break your company gave you every holiday season was a welcomed reprieve to the daily hustle and bustle of life, but it also meant long hours at the office in the weeks leading up to the holiday. Plus, the holidays were always a sour topic around the nursing home, as many of the residents were left to their own devices instead of being a part of family celebrations. That meant, in addition to staying until six or seven o’clock at work, you were spending hours afterward crafting decorations, cards, and personalized goodies for each of the residents you visited each week. This all, understandably, left you with little to no free time.

So, when the first of the month came rolling in, and you were yet to have played a single Christmas song or even thought about pulling your tiny table-top tree from storage, you felt deflated. You’d never been so thankful for online shopping and overnight shipping because, by Saturday afternoon, you had a brand new artificial Christmas tree waiting for you on your building’s front steps. In your excitement of getting into the holiday spirit, however, you completely overlooked just how you were going to get this tree up your narrow stairwell. It was like moving day all over again, except for this time you were sure a knight in shining vibranium armor was not going to show up to save the day.

To your dismay, you hadn’t seen Bucky since his sister’s funeral a month ago. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to make contact. You had prepared him a small meal the day after and had even left him half of the pumpkin pie you picked up from the market down the block. The only way you could tell he was even inside his apartment was the fact that, when you went back up to check, the items were gone. That or one of your other neighbors had taken them for themselves. Either way, you were missing Bucky. Even though you’d only had one proper conversation the entire time you’ve known him, you enjoyed just knowing Bucky was around. The thought of him suffering to any extent made your heart twist into unmanageable knots.

You sigh as you prop the building’s front door open, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. You were strong and independent, and you were more than capable of getting this hefty box up to your apartment. With that mindset in tow, you’re pleasantly surprised to turn around and find Bucky and another man making their way towards the building.

“He’s alive,” you exclaim, unable to hide the smile that blooms across your face. You’d feel embarrassed at the overexcitement that laced through your greeting, but you were genuinely happy to see that he had been out of his apartment and with a suspected friend.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” Bucky says as he looks down to his boot-clad feet. Despite his quiet demeanor and tendency to be closed off, you’d never seen Bucky so...shy.

So you turn your attention to the second man standing in front of you. “I’m Y/N,” you smile as you bound down the stairs to the men, hand out and waiting for Bucky’s friend to shake, “Bucky’s neighbor!” You hope that whatever icy tension that had settled over Bucky would thaw if you directed the spotlight away from him.

“Sam,” the man says as a toothy grin breaks across his face. “Bucky didn’t mention he had neighbors.”

“It’s an apartment building, bird brain, of course I have neighbors,” Bucky mumbles as he buries his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks at you then or rather looks past you at the tall box leaning against the brick building. “What’re you up to?”

“Well, I just got a new Christmas tree delivered,” you say as you bite your lip and try to hide your desperation for help. “I was just getting ready to take it up.”

Bucky looks from you to the tree before settling his gaze on you. “Do you need some help,” he asks coyly.

You don’t even attempt to mask your smile as you guiltily nod your head. As Bucky turns to look at his friend, Sam puts his hands up. “Nah, man, I was getting ready to leave. Plus, heavy lifting is more your thing,” he says before looking at you. “Plus, Bucky is still learning how to play nice with others. And it’s my day off.”

You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes. “You better go relax, then. I’m sure a day off is rare for a superhero.”

As Sam starts backing up towards the way they came, he nods. “I like her, Buck. She really gets it. It was nice meeting you, Y/N!”

“Bye, Sam,” you wave as you watch him make his way down the sidewalk. “He seems really nice,” you say as Bucky hauls the tree box over his shoulder.

“He’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles as he nods towards the front door.

All you can do is laugh and lead the way to your apartment.

“Thank you so much, Bucky,” you say as he finishes up pulling the faux tree from its too-small confines.

“It’s not a problem,” he shrugs and takes a step back to look at the tree. It’s in pretty rough shape, but once you’re done with it, no one will ever be able to tell it’s lived most of its life in a cardboard box. “You know, I haven’t had a Christmas tree since 1942.”

You stop shuffling around in the bin of ornaments and turn to look at him. “You’re joking,” you say, absolutely appalled. When Bucky shakes his head, you make a decision. “Stay and decorate with me, then.”

This obviously takes Bucky off guard, and before he can even attempt to come up with a reason to say no, you’re busting out your best pout, absolutely determined to share some holiday cheer with him this afternoon.

“Fine,” he sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile twitching on his lips.

You put Bucky to work immediately, pointing at boxes and bins full of ornaments, tinsel, and other holiday goodies. To your delight, he has quite the eye for placing ornaments, a skill he attributes to having a best friend who forced him into art classes and design lectures as teenagers. You’re almost certain he’s enjoying himself, a suspicion that is all but proven when he starts cheerfully humming along to the Christmas station you have playing on your phone.

“I’m really happy to see you out and about today,” you say as you hand him a sparkling orb to hang on one of the taller branches.

Bucky falters in his movements just a little before delivering the ornament onto its new home for the season. “I’m sorry I disappeared for a little bit…”

“Oh, Bucky,” you say as you place a hand on his metal forearm. You'd been surprised when he took his jacket off to reveal his metal arm with little more than the sleeve of his t-shirt covering it. You try not to think of the implications behind the small but seemingly intimate action. “Never apologize for how you grieve. We all process and deal with things differently.”

A moment passes in silence, though it’s not awkward. It’s simply a moment where both of you seem to process what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Bucky who breaks the silence. “That pasta thing you left me, that was really good,” he chuckles.

“Remind me, and I’ll write the recipe down for you. It’s one of my favorite comfort foods.”

Time passes easily with Bucky. Despite what Sam said early, Bucky is an excellent companion to decorate with. He cracks jokes every now and then and comments on your collection of antique ornaments. You even manage to get him to try some of that crockpot wine you had attempted to make earlier in the day. By dinner time, your tree is fully dressed and situated in its corner, and you’re tipsy on holiday cheer and alcohol. As you make your way towards the couch with a fresh glass in your hand, Bucky begins to hum along to Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as the beginning notes start to float through your apartment.

“God, I remember when this song came out,” he says quietly as you take your seat. “They played it nonstop at camp. Dunno what they were trying to do, raise our spirits, maybe? It just made me think about how Ma and Becca were going to be all alone that Christmas.” He pauses then, likely lost in the memory. You’re about to say something to pull him back from wherever he drifted off to when he adds, “I couldn’t help thinkin’ that this was a song I’d ask a girl to dance to, too.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you laugh as you set your wine glass down.

“Oh sweetheart, I had girls lining up outta the hall to dance with me back in the day. I wasn’t always so…” he turns to look at you and gesticulates with both arms to make his point, whatever that may be.

You squint your eyes in a challenging glare and stand. “You have to show me these moves, Bucky Barnes.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you quickly cut him off. “I’ll sing along if you don’t. I know you can hear the concerts I put on for my shampoo bottles in the shower. Save you and the neighbors the show, come on.”

Bucky gives you a mock grimace before giving in. You’re not sure if it’s the wine that’s causing time to feel so slow or if it’s the fact you want to savor the image of Bucky standing over you, flesh hand outstretched for you to take. You don’t question it, though, and simply step into his warm, welcoming embrace. It’s all too easy to melt into Bucky’s arms and allow him to guide you around your tiny living room.

A few moments pass with little more than Crosby’s melodic crooning drifting around the two of you. You hope that, despite how close you are, Bucky can’t hear how rapidly your heart is beating. When you finally muster the courage to look at him, you find that he was already looking at you. He squeezes your hand a little and gives you possibly one of the most tender smiles you’ve ever seen.

“Nice to know I still have it,” he exclaims as he winks, and you smile and shake your head before resting it on his shoulder.

When the song ends, Bucky ends his effortless glide across the antiqued hardwood floors, and you pull back from his chest enough so that you can look into his eyes. If your gaze lingers a little too long on his plump, pink lips, you’ll never admit. Despite the impossibly low lighting of the room, you can see the way Bucky’s crystal blue eyes sparkle and dance when they catch the lights from your tree.

“Thank you for helping me today,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“‘Course,” Bucky replies and, as the seconds pass, you’re pretty sure that he begins to lean towards you, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

Just as you’re about to close the small distance, a disorienting ringing begins from somewhere. Bucky pulls away, irritation quickly taking over his expression. “Goddammit,” he practically growls as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “What, Sam?”

You watch as a range of emotions flash across Bucky’s face before a seriousness shadows his features. He barks out a gruff, “See you in a few,” before quickly ending the call. “We’re, uh, needed. Immediately.”

“O-oh,” you mummer, disappointed that he has to leave so quickly. You watch from where Bucky had stopped the two of you as he gathers his jacket and scrambles to put his boots on. He’s almost to your door when your brain finally catches up to what is going on, and, in that moment, you’re appreciative for how small your apartment is because you’re able to get to him before he is fully out of the apartment.

“Wait, Bucky,” you call as you grab for his arm. When he turns to look at you, you almost back out of what you’re about to say, but you persevere, knowing that the world will continue to turn if he rejects you. “Come to Christmas with me. My parents only live two hours away. We’re pretty low-key, no big party or anything. Please?”

Bucky considers you for a moment before he visibly softens and nods. “You know what, sure. That...that sounds great.”

You smile so wide when you hear him accept the invitation, something you thought for sure would be for not. Before you can even consider your actions, you’re leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his rough and prickly cheek. “Stay safe out there,” you say gently. Bucky simply nods, a blush begins to work it’s way up his neck.

You stand in your doorway until you hear the front door of your building click shut behind him. You’ll never confess to it, but when your own apartment door is securely shut behind you, you do an excited, happy dance.

[one-boring-person]

Just A Babysitter. (Part Five)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of drug and alcohol use, some vague mentions of gore.

Context: (Y/n) entertains herself at the cave whilst the boys show Michael their true selves, before they rejoin her for some quality time spent together.

A/N: I apologise that this took longer to get out, but km quite happy with it, even if some parts don't necessarily work "realistically" 😅

Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Six , Part Seven , Part Eight

"Wanna take a drag?" Paul offers me, leaning over from his perch directly beside me on the railing of the Boardwalk, a lit joint pinched between his fingers.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Not really my thing." I decline, gently pushing his hand away from my face, wrinkling my nose at the pungent smell of weed.

"I forget that you're an alcoholic, not a junky. Sorry." The vampire responds, teasing me with smirk as I elbow him in the ribs, a grin on my own face.

"I wouldn't tease her for that, if I were you, Paul. We all know she holds her alcohol better than you do." David points out, giving us a pointed look as he inhales a breath of smoke from the cigarette in his hand. Marko and Dwayne snicker at this, the former yelping when Paul gives him a light slap on the back of the head.

"Not true! I'm not a lightweight!" He protests, though he knows full well that what David says is true.

"You're a lightweight compared to (Y/n)." Dwayne chips in, grinning at us from under his dark hair as he flicks it out of his eyes, the wind having blown it there in the first place.

Paul opens and closes his mouth a few times before giving in, shrugging and taking a drag of his joint in defeat.

"Not as lightweight as Marko." He mutters, a smirk on his face as he says this, intending to get a rise out of the mentioned vampire.

"More so, in fact." Marko retorts, pushing against his friend's back jokingly, laughing when Paul yelps in mock surprise.

He is cut off suddenly when he is pushed aside by a rather distressed Michael, the half-vampire angrily shoving Marko into me, nearly throwing me over the edge and onto the sand below, only just caught by Paul, who sacrifices his joint to save me. Steadying me, the vampire makes sure I'm alright before turning his blue-eyed gaze onto the brunette, staring at him as the rest of us do.

"Where is she?!" Michael growls into the leader's face, grabbing hold of his collar.

In response, David breathes out a lungful of smoke and chuckles, taking Michael's hands off of him.

"Take it easy, Michael." He says calmly, looking the half-vampire in the eye.

"Where is Star, David?" Michael spits out, putting heavy emphasis on the blonde's name.

"Michael, you ever wanna see Star again, you better come with us now." He threatens, face turning serious as the brunette lets him go, breathing erratic.

At his words, I immediately understand what is going to happen, and make a quick decision. As David moves to go back to the motorcycles, I tap at his arm, getting his attention as I walk beside him, voice quiet as I speak to him.

"Can I go home? I don't really want to watch you guys eat a bunch of people tonight..." My voice trails off as I start to think about how stupid and pathetic I must sound, surprised when the vampire places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his icy body, smiling down at me.

"Of course. Go make sure the other two aren't up to anything bad." David says, rubbing my arm gently before releasing me as we approach the bikes, climbing onto his with a practiced ease. Following suit, I get up onto mine and kick start the engine, waiting for the others to do the same, watching as Michael hesitantly joins us, eyes flicking to mine with confusion and trepidation. In response, I give him a sympathetic look, knowing full well that he will be horrified by what will become his fate.

As a group, we pull out onto the road, taking the route through town to get out, David surprisingly allowing me to ride closer to him than usual, the blonde smirking at me across the gap as I get level with him. Behind us, Paul, Dwayne and Marko all cry out in excitement, their energy levels shooting up at the prospect of a feed, whilst Michael just becomes even more worried. As we leave civilisation, we approach a junction, where we'd normally turn right towards the Bluff, but this time it's only me who takes this route, my hand lifting into a wave as I veer away from the others, bringing up the speed as much as I can as I turn onto the mostly empty road.

For once, I mostly stick to the rules of the road, staying on the correct side and keeping to the speed limits, my pace not quite as wild as it usually is, though I do skip through a few traffic lights I come across, grimacing when I hear the protests of others behind me. The ride up the dusty track leading to the Bluff is no different however, I take it as fast as I usually do, skidding on the dust a little as the bike struggles to grip the ground. A giddy whoop of thrill rips from my throat as it does so, a grin forming on my face in response to this, just proving how much of an adrenaline junky I really am.

Finally, I reach the Bluff, stopping the bike and getting off before hiding it where we normally do, going down the rickety walkway into the cave, navigating it by instinct, seeing as it is nearly pitch black when the lighthouse isn't pointing at it. The interior is lit up by the braziers, the cheerful yet somehow tense sounds of Star and Laddie playing around floating up to me as I get closer, slowing my descent. It's not often these days that Star actually plays with the boy, mostly passing it off onto me or Paul, or Dwayne, who Laddie sees almost as a father figure of sorts. It's not that she doesn't care, it's just that she's preoccupied with other things, like the prospect of becoming a fully fledged vampire, which I can understand.

Entering the sunken hotel, I try to be as quiet as possible, making sure I don't step on any of the debris littering the floor, aiming not to interrupt the two of them at all. Somehow I manage to succeed in doing so, stepping silently over to the corner where my armchair is situated, taking a seat and picking up a book to read, which just so happens to be Anne Rice's "Interview With The Vampire", a favourite of mine ever since the boys bought it for me a couple of years ago, as a joke. Even as I read it through now, I find myself drawing parallels between the characters and my friends, specifically Laddie and Claudia, who are both turned at a young age, and will never fully experience what adulthood is like thanks to this. At the thought of this, a sense of pity wells up in me, thinking back to the boy who I've come to care for as a younger brother, knowing that, eventually, he will become bitter and resentful at his fate, no matter what the rest of us do to help him. If only the boys had read the book, then it might have occurred to them how unfair Laddie's life will soon become.

For a little while, I read the book, soon tiring of the pages as I finish the storyline in my head knowing it all too well, standing from my seat and stretching out my stiff muscles with a sigh. Placing the book down, I survey the area, quickly making up my decision when I notice the familiar beams of wood resting against the far wall, their ends not too far from the secure iron frameworks latticing the ceiling, their rusty bars appearing mostly safe. With a small smile, I go over to them, testing their stability before taking a firm hold of them, bracing my feet against the rock wall and shuffling upwards. A groan escapes me at the exertion, but I push on, determined to reach the top, ignoring the steadily growing burn in my muscles, halting briefly when the beam to my left suddenly makes a cracking noise, a burst of panic making me tense up. When nothing further happens, I continue on my way, going a little more cautiously so as to avoid putting too much pressure on the old pieces of wood, a proud grin splitting my face as I reach the top, my head turning around to gauge the distance between me and the first iron bar. Judging it well, I reach out one arm and push off the wall, feeling suddenly vulnerable somewhere in the middle as I stop on my trajectory, before I feel the reassuring roughness of the iron beneath my fingers.

Taking hold of it with both hands, I allow myself to swing for a moment, enjoying the new perspective of the room briefly, grimacing when I finally heave myself onto the bar, precariously managing to stand up, my feet somehow finding safe purchase on the frame. Using the other bars around me as a railing, I walk along the bar until I reach the middle of the room, where I then sit down, swinging my legs over the edge, watching the room intently, waiting for the two half-vampires to emerge from the curtained area by their beds. I sit there for ten minutes before I see anything, my eyebrow lifting when I notice Star step out into the light, alone wearing a black jacket, looking around as if to check if the rest of us are back yet. I decide to put her out of her misery.

"Going somewhere?" I call down to her plastering a pleasant smile onto my face.

Surprised, Star looks around with wide eyes, trying to find me in the shadows, not once looking upwards towards the ceiling, where I'm residing, amused by her oblivion.

"Up here." I quickly inform her, trying not to laugh when she finally finds me, shock lining her face.

"(Y/n)?! How the hell did you...?" She starts, voice trailing off when she casts her eyes around the room, trying to find out how I got to my perch.

"I climbed. Now answer my question." I respond, smiling at her to show I'm not trying to be controlling, even if that's how it sounds.

"I'm going out." She confirms, clenching her jaw a little.

"Out?" I question, looking at my watch to check the time.

"Yeah, I'm going to the Boardwalk." I can tell she's lying, but I don't say anything, instead telling her to have fun, assuming that she's put Laddie to bed already, seeing as she is willing to leave him alone.

As she leaves, I decide that I'm bored with my current position and decide to change it up, knowing that any slip of the hand could be deadly. Carefully, I manoeuvre myself so that I'm hanging upside down with my legs hooked over the bar, my feet linked under another one a foot or two away to provide stability, my clothes all hitching up around my shoulders as the gravity pulls them downwards. Instantly, I can feel the blood rush to my head, my vision briefly clouding over as I try my best to ignore it, biting my lip when the nausea starts to kick in. Despite all this, the thrill of hanging by a thread seems to excite me, my adrenaline pumping through me, my heartbeat racing in anticipation.

Vaguely, I hear as the boys finally return, their voices loud in the confined space, energy clearly high after feeding; knowing them, they probably came in wearing their victims on their clothes, too. I spot them quickly as they enter the room, their brows furrowing as they notice I'm not in my usual spot, clearly picking up my scent and the sound of my pulse, but unable to place my whereabouts.

"Where is she?" Marko wonders aloud, looking around in concern.

"She's not with Laddie." Paul states, having just gone to check, confusion lacing his voice as the other two stay quiet.

David and Dwayne seem to come to the same conclusion, their gazes landing on the beams I used to climb up, before following them up to the ceiling, worry etched into their faces. They don't spot me immediately, but I give them a grin and a quick wave, and they realise where I am, David letting out a chuckle as he spots me, Dwayne only sighing in exasperation, followed by a broad grin when Marko and Paul continue to figure it out. The former notices David and Dwayne looking up, and follows their line of sight, eyes widening when he sees me, a giggle escaping him, along with a gasp of surprise, Paul figuring it out seconds later.

"How'd you get up there?!" He calls up to me, grinning maniacally at the sight.

"I climbed." I inform them, struggling to talk now, what with the oxygen rushing to my brain, deciding to get back into a comfortable position.

"You climbed? Damn, you have some serious muscle." Marko compliments, making me blush at the comment.

"How do you plan to get back down?" David inquires, smirking at me as I look at the beams against the wall, finally noticing that the climb down wouldn't work as easily as the journey up did, what with the pieces of wood having cracked through the middle.

"Yeah, I didn't think of that." I reply, frowning a bit at the predicament I'm in, embarrassment making me blush.

The sudden sight of Dwayne standing in front of me makes me jump, the brunette grinning widely at me, the vampire clearly having flown up her using his vampiric abilities.

"Jesus, Dwayne, you scared the hell out of me!" I curse, placing a hand over my heart as if to calm it.

"Oops." He responds, before leaning forwards and picking me up, ignoring my protests as he cradles me against his chest, stepping off of the beam again once he's got me. Slowly, he descends back to the cave floor, setting me back on my feet as the rest of the boys crowd around me.

"What made you think I was ready to come down?" I grumble in mock irritation, trying not to smile as Paul mimics me, instinctually giving him a light slap on the chest as he does so. At our antics, the others chuckle, watching as Paul gives me a gentle shove in response, which ultimately breaks out into a playful wrestling match between us as we refuse to let the other win.

For a few minutes, we roll around on the floor, trying our best to get the upper hand, which he eventually manages to do, pinning my body to the floor by grabbing my wrists and holding them above my heads, grinning when he notices my chest heaving in exhaustion, a pout making it's way onto my face at the fact I lost. Again.

"No fair, you used your vampire strength!" I complain, waiting for him to let me up again.

"Nope, I didn't. You'd know if I did, girly." The vampire smirks, not budging as I start to wriggle under his lanky frame, only just noticing the blood still staining the white fabric of his trousers.

"Still." I continue, gritting my teeth as I try my best to get out from under him, looking around to the other boys for help. David smirks and shrugs, letting me know it's my own predicament and I need to get out of it alone, Dwayne smiles at me, clearly enjoying the show, whilst Marko is nowhere to be seen.

"Get off me, you're heavy as hell!" I protest, going limp in his arms as I give up wriggling out from his grip.

"I'm not!' Paul exclaims, acting offended though his blue eyes are glittering with mischief. However, just as he's about to continue, the air is suddenly knocked out of him and he goes flying over my head, his body crashing to the floor a couple of metres away with another, smaller one situated on top of him, Marko's devious giggling echoing around the cave as he and the other vampire get into a scrap again, both of them laughing together. Watching them from my spot lying on the floor, I allow a smile to plaster itself across my face, enjoying watching the two of them playfight, not noticing when Dwayne comes over to help me up, the tall brunette grinning at me as he offers me his hand.

Taking it, I allow him to pull me to my feet, groaning when I feel the blood rush to my head, my balance faltering momentarily before the tall vampire manages to catch me, chuckling lowly as he steadies me against his body. Leading me over to the random sofa they have lying around, he sits me down on it and joins me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I let my head drop onto his chest, still watching the two younger vampires scuffle around with each other. A quick glance across the room tells me that David is just as invested in the show as we are, the platinum blonde's lips slightly upturned into a smirk.

"Where'd Star go?" Dwayne asks me after a moment, shooting a worried look at the bed in the corner, having finally noticed that it is empty.

"She said she was going to the Boardwalk, but I don't believe her. I think she went to see Michael." I reply, admitting my thoughts to the group because they'll figure it out sooner or later anyway.

"You're probably right. He's gonna need the support anyway." Dwayne comments, brow furrowed a little, even if his tone is light.

"How do you mean?" I question him, confused until the pieces click into place, "I guess he didn't take too well to the whole killing people thing, then?"

"He was terrified." David confirms from across the room, rolling his eyes at the memory.

"Yeah, well, that's a given, surely? I didn't exactly have the best reaction myself, did I?" I point out, embarrassed at the reminder of my childish reaction, back when they first showed me who they really were.

"True, but you didn't stick your face in the sand to avoid looking at us." David replies, smirking briefly before turning back to the other two, "Are you quite finished? The sun's coming up soon."

Almost sheepishly, Paul and Marko pry themselves apart, straightening themselves up as they quickly apologise, though it is obvious that they don't really care. Seeing Dwayne and I together on the sofa, they both exchange a glance, swiftly throwing themselves at the two of us with all the force they can muster, eager to join us. Instantly, Paul sits himself with his head in my lap, moving my hands to his hair, allowing me to touch it for once, Marko draping himself over the back of the sofa, his head resting on my shoulder. Smiling, I carefully brush my fingers through Paul's mess of hair, leaning my head against Marko's as Dwayne pulls me closer into him, rubbing my arm gently, watching as the other vampires soak up the affection, clearly happy to be in such proximity.

Across the room, David watches us, his blue eyes giving away no emotion even if there is a small smile gracing his lips, his head cocked to the side in interest. Eventually, he stands and comes closer to us, sitting himself on the side of the fountain so as not to impose, unsure of what else to do. From my position under the rest of them, I shoot him a quick smile before  Paul lets out a complaint, the lanky vampire insisting I stay focused on him, which draws an exasperated eyeroll out of both David and Dwayne,  the latter reaching down briefly to flick him in the side of the head. Almost instantly, Paul has retaliated, poking the brunette's leg with a cheeky pout on his lips. Marko giggles as we watch the two of them start a little war of poking and prodding each other, neither vampire willing to give in until one of them accidentally catches me, at which point a surprised yelp escapes me, alerting them both to this fact. Both are quick to apologise, Dwayne pressing a swift kiss to my temple as Paul does the same to the palm of my hand, slender fingers tracing a pattern on the tender skin as he pulls away, smiling up at me apologetically.

For a little while, we remain as we are, comfortably sitting in each other's presence, though I can tell David wishes he were more involved, before all four of them realise what time it is, looks of worry and irritation creeping into place onto their faces.

"What's wrong?" I question them, confused as to their sudden change of mood.

"The sun is coming up." David supplies simply, blue eyes narrowed with frustration.

"Oh." My voice is laced with disappointment, even though I know it isn't their fault.

"Sorry, girly. We gotta go." Paul says to me, reluctantly rolling himself off my lap and onto the floor catching himself on his hands and knees as he behaves himself upright. With a sigh, Dwayne and Marko release me, too, the former giving me one last squeeze as he stands up, stretching his tall body put with a satisfying cracking sound, growling when Paul pokes his stomach in the process, a chase swiftly ensuing as the blonde vampire runs, giggling, towards their sleeping area. Marko gives me one last hug before pursuing them, eager to see Paul get his ass kicked by Dwayne, eyes glittering in amusement.

David is the last to leave, coming over to me on the sofa for a moment and sitting himself beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. It's rare that he gives me this much affection, so I eagerly wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face into the material of his jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of old cigarette smoke, motor oil and blood which has always, surprisingly, comforted me. His low chuckle resonates through his chest, his other arm coming up to hold me tightly, pressing me into his cold body, thumbs rubbing circles into my back as he always has done, ever since they first took me in.

Too soon, he pulls away, pressing a careful kiss to my forehead as he does so, blue eyes softening for a second as they make contact with mine, the proximity causing my pulse to pick up considerably. Knowing he can hear it, I stand up from his grip, pulling him with me as I cast my gaze to the entrance to the cave, where the first rays of sunlight are just becoming visible.

"Sleep well, David." I say to him quietly, hanging my head a bit, as if ashamed at my body's reaction to him and the others.

Lightly, he takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head back up to him as he meets my guilty eyes.

"You, too, (Y/n)." He responds, voice just as soft as mine, a smile gracing his lips before he turns away from me, walking into the tunnel leading to their sleeping area, giving me one last glance as he disappears into the darkness.

Sighing, I take myself to my bed, taking off my jacket and shoes as I prepare to climb into the warm confines, not quite tired just yet, even though I should be. A footstep behind me snaps my attention to the entrance of the room, irrational fear briefly exploding in my mind until I turn to find Star standing there, an odd look on her face.

"Star? What's up?"

"Nothing, I just, err..." She begins, trying to find the right words, "Well, I wanted to say sorry for being a bit of an ass to you these past few days, especially with how good you've been to Laddie. He really loves being with you."

At first, I'm a bit surprised, but I swiftly push it down, motioning for her to come closer. She takes a seat beside me on the bed, her body tense and uncomfortable.

"You don't have to be sorry, life hasn't exactly been easy for you recently. I doubt being a half-vampire is simple at the best of times, so you've been dealing with it quite well, on the scale of things." I reassure her, the words genuine.

"Doesn't give me an excuse to be rude."

"Of course it does. It's not a light choice to make, so I don't blame you for being a bit tense. Don't be so hard on yourself, it's not your fault the whole transition thing is so taxing."

At my words, she gives me a small smile, glad that I'm not flipping out on her at all, even though I have been irritated with her at times in the past few days. I do understand why, though, so I don't really blame her for anything.

"Thanks, (Y/n). I'm glad I've got another girl to talk to." She admits, leaning over to hug me gently, as if afraid to touch me. Carefully, I return the gesture, patting her on the back comfortingly.

"Yeah, me too. There's just a little bit too much testosterone flying around without you." I grin as she chuckles, pulling back a little to look me in the eye.

"Same goes for the other way round." Star chuckles, getting up and going to the doorway, looking back at me, "Thank you again."

"Of course." I reply, smiling at her, happy that she came to talk to me.

"Goodnight, or good day, I guess." She says, allowing me to reply before leaving the room.

I take a few moments to think things through, eventually slipping beneath the covers and into the comfortable interior of the been sighing as I allow myself to relax. It takes me a while to fall asleep, and it is fitful when I finally manage to, the slightest noise waking me up.

Much to my advantage, it turns out.

Part Six

[paradox-psyc-hoe-sis]

The Strongest Avenger

Carol x fem!reader, avengers x reader (platonic)

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: so many oh boy. Attempted angst, fluff, insecurity, broken bones, injections + needles, so much gore, organ removal, vomit. If you're sensitive to any gore then please don't read it, I'm sorry oof

A/n: I've never written anything like this before, so feedback is always welcome. Tamika, if you're reading this, I am going to marry Carol Danvers one day. Try and stop me, I dare you. - Aphrodite

"Your turn, Nat!"

You, Carol, Natasha, Wanda and Peter all sat on the floor of your bedroom. Carol had a week free, so she decided to spend that week back on earth with her best friends; she was completing a 6 month long mission and it had been exactly 123 days since you saw her last. Yes, you were counting. Whenever she returns from a mission, you host a girls night (eith the exception of Peter, of course. He looked up to you all so much, you couldn't just not invite him), and tonight you had decided to play a game of 21 dares. It's practically the exact same as 21 questions, but with dares instead. After all, you were avengers, and none of you were scared of a bit of danger.

"Alright, alright." Nat looked deep in thought before her eyes lit up, thinking of the best dare. "Carol. I dare you to make out with the prettiest person in the room." Peter gasped, making everyone laugh, and you met Carol's eyes. She raised and eyebrow, to which you gave a small nod; next thing you knew, she had scooted over to sit next to you, and casually put her lips on yours. You didn't think too much of it; you and Carol were closer than any of the other avengers were, and she probably felt more comfortable kissing you than anyone else. The fact that she had chosen you as the prettiest never even crossed your mind.

You'd had a crush on Carol since the first time you saw her. It was about two years ago; she was moving into the avengers tower, and you had to give her the tour. Her sandy blonde hair fell casually onto her shoulders, and she wore black jeans with a white jumper. You had offered to carry her bags, but that was a mistake - being roughly half a foot shorter and only having 3% of the strength that she has was the fatal flaw. Over those two years, you and Carol grew to be best friends, and your feelings for her slowly faded. What was once a raging fire of passion had fizzled down into a small candle flame, but it shone bright with hope nonetheless. She hadn't changed since you first met her, yet she now sported short hair, rather than her longer curls.

Oh, and now you were kissing her.

Her lips were soft, contradictory to yours which were chapped and rough. You were so focused on her that you didn't hear Wanda trying to get your attention. Carol snaked a hand up to your neck and opened her mouth slightly more, yet you could still feel her smiling into your mouth. Before you could put a hand on her waist, you felt someone flicking your face. Laughing as you pulled away from her, Carol sat back where she originally was, and gave you a wink. Wanda was now knelt next to you, and it became apparent that she was the one who had flicked you.

"Any longer and we would've had to cover Peter's eyes!" Her accent came out thick between a giggle, and you felt a familiar burning in your cheeks.

☆☆☆☆☆

You rolled over in your bed to look at the time; 1:38 am. The game of 21 dares didn't last much longer after your kiss, and you all crashed on your bed. It was the climax of summer, so you wore only underwear and a tank top while you slept. Being sure not to wake anybody up, you climbed off of the bed, internally thanking your past self for choosing to lay on the side closest to the door. Grabbing a pair of pyjama shorts to slip on, you studied everyone's expressions to make sure they were all still asleep, and your eyes lingered on Carol's face for a bit too long. Peter wasn't there, he must've woken up earlier and gone back to his bedroom, you thought. Sighing, you walked out of the door. Even out in the hallway it was blisteringly warm, so you headed to the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

The song Dancing Queen by ABBA has been stuck in your head for weeks, so you quietly sang it to yourself on your way to the living area. Once you got to the kitchen you closed your eyes, still singing, and began dancing in the space that you had. Minutes must have passed before you opened your eyes and saw Steve sat at the dining table. He didn't say anything, but instead took a long sip of the coffee he had. Without even flinching at his sudden appearance, you got your bottle of water, and walked out. As you passed him on the way, you leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"This never happened."

Instead of going back to your room, you headed straight towards the elevator, and made your way to the roof. Stepping out into the warm breeze, you walked closer to the balcony. You noted the clarity of the stars above you yet you saw the sun poking out from above the city skyline, and took a deep breath of the early morning air. Disturbing you from tranquility, the sound of the door behind you opening awoke you from your daze.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite earth human."

You turned and saw Carol stood in the doorway, holding two mugs of cocoa.

"Good morning, space alien. What're you doing up?" She walked over to you and handed you one of the mugs. No whipped cream and extra marshmallows, just how you like it. She knew you so well.

"Couldn't sleep, you?"

Before you answered, you took in her appearance. Her short hair was messy as a result of her slumber, and she rocked a matching set of baby pink pyjamas.

"I guess I could say the same. I've had too much on my mind lately." You took a large gulp of your drink, ignoring the fact that its heat felt like molten lava was being poured down your throat. She hummed in response, looking out to the horizon. She turned to you with a frown, sighed, and then asked you a question. "What do you want to do in the future?" The question took you aback, but you knew what you wanted out of life, and you were comfortable telling her. As you thought of your future, you saw a wedding, maybe children, and a steady career.

"Well, once more heroes rise from the future ashes of the avengers, I want to settle down. Helping the earth, and the universe, is everything to me, so I want to work for as long as I can. It would be brilliant to meet somebody soon..." you took a breath, "and possibly fall in love. I don't know about kids, but having somebody to share my life with means the world to me. What about you?"

She was looking at you with such admiration, and you met her gaze. She smiled and turned back to the view, thinking hard. "I think I want to stay on earth." She put it more bluntly than you've ever heard her speak, and you were surprised with the answer.

"Seriously? You literally have super powers, have travelled to so many galaxies, fought the universes biggest threats, and are practically immortal. And at the end of the day, you really want to stay on this junk yard of a planet?"

She faked an offended look and punched you on the arm. "I have more friends of this junk yard of a planet than I do in the entire galaxy. And it's not every day that you get to spend the rest of your life with a group of misfits like us who only care about protecting people. After things have settled down in this realm, I want to stay here to protect my family." You smiled as she turned her head towards you. "And besides, this junk yard of a planet has a very amazing person on it who I'd never be able to get rid of, no matter where I decide to settle down."

You both laughed, and you finished your cocoa. "I'm going back to bed, I promised Natasha that I'd train with her tomorrow and God knows that I need the energy." You smiled and turned to walk away before she grabbed your wrist. Neither of you said anything, but words weren't needed. She pulled you into a hug in which you happily returned, and she gave you a small kiss on the forehead. You stayed like this for a while before you found your eyelids growing heavy. She let you leave for real, this time, and you fell asleep thinking about her.

☆☆☆☆☆

Two days later, you were sat in the conference room with all of the other avengers. Carol sat across the table from you, and you'd love to just stare at her for the entire meeting, but this was important. Somebody in New York had been committing a series of crimes. At first, it was small stuff like shoplifting or stealing somebody's bag on the street. But the longer they were left unnoticed, the bigger their crimes got. Yesterday, you had recieved information that five people were murdered in an attack in the Wall Street building. The criminal went by the name of Neeko, and he always left a note at the scene of the crime. All but one were addressed to the avengers - the note left at Wall Street was addressed to you, and you only. It soon became clear why; you knew all five people killed. One was a former colleague, another was a childhood friend, two of them went to college with you, and the last was your ex-boyfriend. Of course, you were distraught over all of these people being killed, but your determination to catch the killer overpowered your sadness. Steve was

leading the meeting, creating a plan as you went, and you perked up when you heard your name.

"In his last note, Neeko said that if y/n doesn't meet him in the warehouse on 42nd street tonight at 8pm, he'll be attacking one of the schools within the week." Steve looked directly at you. "There's no way that we can find out what school he could be targeting, so we're going to have to use you as bate?"

You nodded, feeling secure. Your family would never let anything bad happen to you, especially not in the hands of a serial killer.

"Now, I don't want to seem condescending, but are you sure you can do this, y/n?" The question came from Sam, who was sat at the opposite end of the table. You glared at him, confused as to what he was talking about.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked calmly, but with a hint of annoyance. They did this to you a lot; you were one of the younger in the group, and you were probably one of the weakest. They'd usually never put you in the centre of a mission, but it was a necessity this time around.

"I'm sure what Sam meant was that five people who are close to your heart have just been murdered." Steve sat in the empty chair next to you. "Are you sure you're stable enough to be put directly into the hands of the person who killed them?"

The wat he phrased it made you furious; they always doubt your abilities, and in this time where protecting your loved ones is more important than ever, they were hesitant to trust you. As soon as he asked you this, you stood up from your chair and stared directly at him.

"Stable? You're asking me if I'm 'stable' enough to be trusted?" You looked around at everybody else. Natasha ducked her head down, Bucky casually shielded his eyes with his hand, Tony gave you a sympathetic look; they all agreed with Steve.

You looked at Carol who gave you a small nod of approval, as if to say 'I wouldn't blame you if you burned down the entire avengers tower just from that remark.' Grabbing your jacket from the back of your chair, you walked out of the conference room. You heard Rhodey calling your name, but you weren't going to go back in there and be treated like a child. You and Carol had arranged to get brunch at 10:30, which was in an hour; you didn't know where you were going, but you were leaving the avengers tower. You needed a break.

Sitting down in a small red booth, you closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead. You went for a walk around the city before going to the diner, and once you were there, you were still far to annoyed to even think about eating. 60s music quietly rumbled from speakers on the walls and the smell of waffles and burgers clouded your thoughts.

"Y/n, are you okay?" You looked up and saw Carol who had just come from the tower. She sat down in the booth and placed her hand on top of yours, stroking the back of yours with her thumb. You sighed before giving her a weak smile.

"They don't think I can do it." You saw her nod, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

"It's not that they don't think you can do it, y/n. They know your abilities and how good you are under pressure, but a few of your friends have just died. They're worried that you might get a bit carried away, or worse."

Before you could reply, Carol got the attention of one of the waitresses and ordered a strawberry and cream waffle for you, and a root beer float for herself. You've both been to this diner so many times together that you each know exactly what you like. As soon as Carol turned back around, you started talking.

"That's the point. They're worried that I can't do my job, when we do this all the time. Every single one of us has been in a situation similar to this; where we've lost someone close to us and have to ignore how we feel, and continue to protect the world. Nobody would dare question Steve or Tony's judgement if they were in my position, so I don't see why they feel the need to question mine."

Carol looked surprised at everything you had just said, and it was clear that she didn't know how to reply. Before she could think of anything to say, you scooted closer to her and wrapped her in a hug. You breathed in the sweet smell of her vanilla perfume and the fresh cotton scent of her tee shirt. She rubbed your back, and you pulled away.

"I have to do this. Not just for myself, or the school kids, or my friends that were killed, but for them. I'm going to smash this mission so hard that they'll never dare question my abilities again." You were both smiling, and Carol gave you a high five.

"That's my girl!"

☆☆☆☆☆

It was nearing 8pm. You, Steve, Bucky, Tony, Natasha and Carol stood outside of the warehouse on 42nd; bringing all of the avengers would seem suspicious, so Steve chose just the right amount of people to protect you and catch Neeko. They were all suited up, except for you. You weren't dressed in your dark purple latex suit, but the skirt and jumper combo that you had worn earlier in the diner. It was your idea; showing up in your suit would alert Neeko and his companions, and make them think that you were planning an attack. Wearing normal clothes would make it seem like you weren't planning anything. When you told Steve, he was impressed that you had come up with the idea, and happily approved. However, you were slightly regretting it now. Being without the suit that Tony had made for you and knowing that you could, possibly, be walking into your place of death gave you a wave of fear, but you brushed it off. You had to prove to the rest of the group that you were more than what they think, or at least you'll die trying.

All of the avengers wore black watches, but when closely inspected, were actually tracking devices. They each had a tiny button on the side that when pressed, would alert every other device of where you were. The button was only to be pressed when you knew you'd be in a certain place for a while, and/or you were in a lot of danger. The button was really only meant to be pressed by you, so the rest of the group knew when to come and get you and where you were. But if another avenger was in trouble and needed backup, they could use it too.

Steve started going over the plan. "As soon as y/n gives us the alert, we head inside. Carol and I will go in from the front and find her, Bucky and Nat will go in from the back to see if there are any hostages or prisoners there, and Tony will fly above the roof and use his scanners to find out how many people inside are working for Neeko."

He gave you a clap on the back. "Are you ready, y/n?" You looked up at him, took a deep breath, and nodded. You were more ready than you'd ever be. You checked the phone in the back of your pocket, which read 7:58pm, it was almost time. Everyone watched as you grabbed Carol's hand, interlaced your fingers, gave it a weak squeeze, and walked straight through the main doors of the warehouse.

Everything smelt damp, and the faint scent of machine oil lingered in the huge hall. You looked around, not seeing a single sign of life in the entire room. You calmly strolled through the warehouse, being sure to stay in the main hall and not get lost in any other rooms.

"Hello? Hellooooo!? Anybody home?" You called into the darkness, hoping somebody would walk out any second. You were about to turn around and make your way back out through the doors before somebody threw a sack over your head. You shouted at whoever was behind you, kicking your legs out in an attempt to knock them over. This failed, and you only aggravated your captor more. They grabbed your shoulders to hold you still, and another pair of hands appeared to tie your wrists together in front of you. The same person who tied your hands also did the same to your ankles, and you felt the familiar pain of rope burn against your wrists and ankles. You continued to shout and scream for help, but the two people who had tied you up had picked you up and carried you away.

When the sack was removed from your head, you were tied to a chair with thick black rope. You looked down at your wrists, and blood dripped down your forearms. Just by looking at your surroundings, you knew you were probably inappropriate storage room; you tried, but failed to reach the button of your tracking device, letting out an angry sigh. The only thing lighting up the room was an old lightbulb above your head, but you could still see what was on the floor surrounding you: bodies. People who you didn't recognize, their organs pooling out of their lacerated stomachs. Their eyes had been gouged out of their faces, and a thick, brown liquid dripped from their mouths. You screamed, not out of fear, but of anger. You shouted until your voice became hoarse and your eyes watered.

Not long afterwards, you heard the locks on the doors being undone. You sat up, preparing for some sort of mob boss to walk in with a set of weapons. Instead, a tall man wearing an apron walked in. He wore a shirt and jeans, a pair of black glasses resting on the bridge of his nose; you would've thought he was a normal person if it wasn't for the heavily blood stained apron he wore. What disgusted you the most was that he looked no older than Tony did. Following him was one of his companions, short and stocky, carrying a sizeable wooden box. Along with them, they brought the scent of blood and rotting bodies.

"It's nice to meet you, y/n." His voice was low and fitting to what you would expect a serial killers voice to be like; thick, eerie, and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. He walked over to you and bent down, examining your face.

"You're a monster."

He chuckled at your stern expression, and didn't reply. You squirmed and wriggled in your seat, desperate to break free and kick him in the balls. Instead of breaking free from the chair, you just caused yourself more pain. Blood continued to slowly drip past your wrists and onto your hands, coating your dainty fingers in pure red. Noticing how desperate you were to get out made him visibly frustrated, so he stood up and gave you a hard punch in the face. This was the hardest you've ever felt somebody punch you, and you've trained with Steve before.

Your ears started ringing and vision went blurry. He had, quite obviously, broken your nose. Blood poured out of your nose like a waterfall, and you could feel a bone sticking out of place. You groaned, sitting up straight in your chair. Although you weren't really listening, he began talking again, pacing around the room.

"I know you and your little group of superheroes have been getting my letters, and I have to say, I'm quite offended," he stopped and looked at you, "you never wrote back. I'm sure your angry, y/n, I really am. After all, I killed some of the people who you trust with your life, and I'm about to do more than just that."

You were confused by what he meant, before his companion handed him a laptop. He placed it on the floor in front of you, and you saw what appeared to be security camera footage of another room in the warehouse. Two people were tied up on chairs just like you, and it took you a moment to recognize who those two people were.

Your parents.

And before you could open you mouth to ask him why your parents were here, another figure appeared on the screen. It was him.

"How are you in two places at once?" You asked, seeming stupid. He laughed again, a low, broad chuckle.

"Oh, you silly girl, I'm not in two places at once. That was recorded half an hour ago." You put two and two together and realised that your parents were here half an hour ago, and the blood on his apron was fresh. You couldn't think of anything to say, so instead, you watched the video. You gasped when Neeko pulled out a knife, and screamed bloody murder when you saw him slit both your mother and your father's throats. You looked away, but he grabbed your head and forced you to see what happened to your parents. With the knife, he cut out their organs and their eyes, being sure to look into the camera every now and again. You were sobbing, your eyes were puffy and red, matching the crimson blood that covered the bottom half of your face.

"That's enough! I can't watch any more!" You screamed up at him, choking on your own sobs. He showed no pity as he flicked his fingers at his companion, who went and collected the wooden box. Neeko opened it in front of you, showing you a syringe full of clear, slightly yellow tinted liquid. Before you could scream for help, he had already put the needle to your neck and injected you with the serum. Your eyelids began to feel too heavy to keep open, and you fell into a deep slumber.

You woke to the sound of knives being sharpened. You were still bound to the chair, but were in a different room. It was much larger, with a few mahogany desks along one of the walls. Instead of paperwork being laid on top of the desk, there was a selection of knives, scissors and other surgical tools. You knew what was about to come, and you were prepared for the worst.

"If you're going to try and kill me then you've picked the wrong fight." Everything hurt as you spoke, but you meant what you said. The avengers would be worried by your lack of alert, and would come and find you. Any minute now, Steve and Carol were bound to break down the door and rescue you.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, little girl." You hated him calling you that, you were in your mid early twenties but never treated like it, not even from the avengers.

"No, I'm not going to kill you. But what I am going to do is mess you up so badly that you'll never be able to fight with your precious friends ever again, and you'll live with the knowledge that you weren't strong enough to save your parents, and you weren't strong enough to save yourself." You spat at his face, which only made him laugh even more.

Turning his back to you, he picked up a knife from one of the desks. He walked over to you and sat down on an empty chair that you never even realised was beside you. Your legs were bare under your skirt, showing the most skin than any other part of your body. He placed the blade of the knife on the middle of your thigh and slowly pressed it in. You screamed, pure agony surging through you body. Hearing you scream only made Neeko want to continue, so the more you screamed the deeper her pushed the knife. Only the first half of the blade was inside of you, but you only realised how bad it was when you felt the cold metal hit your bone. He pulled the knife out and basked in the sound of your piercing screams. Just in fucking time, you heard a knock on the door. Who in the living hell would be knocking at the door while this was going on?

Neeko rose and went to answer the door. Only opening it slightly, he peered out at who was there. Then, you heard her voice.

"Pizza delivery, motherfuckers." She sent a photon blast directly to his face, and then another to his companion. She strode in, and as soon as she saw you she went pale. Your entire face, arms, thighs and ankles were drained in your own blood, and you were bound to a chair, panting. She ran over to you and broke the ropes with her own hands, and pressed the alert button on her watch. She knelt beside you, and once you were fully untied, you couldn't help but collapse directly on top of her. Your arms were draped over her back as she picked you up in a fire man's lift, walking out of the door to meet the other avengers.

☆☆☆☆☆

It had been 6 days since the night in the warehouse. After passing out, you were taken back to the tower by Carol, Bucky and Nat, where Bruce managed to identify and heal your injuries, to the best of his ability. Steve and Tony caught Neeko and his accomplices, turning them into S.H.I.E.L.D., their fate was to be decided by Nick Fury. It took you 3 days to wake up from your passing out; whatever they had injected you with keeps you asleep for longer, and they had put far too much in you. Once you had finally awoken, you used the next three days to recover in and out of bed, being forced to do mandatory small exercises to ensure your body was working perfectly. The sixth day was your first day fully out of bed, walking around the avengers tower. You needed crutches, as the wound on your leg wasn't big enough for stitches and had to recover independently. Additionally, you wore a small brace on your nose, so your bone could be shaped back into place. The only people you had seen since waking up were Bruce, Steve, and Peter. Steve had come to tell you everything that happened, and Peter came to see if you were okay. Bruce recommended no visitors until you were able to get out of bed, as it could over stimulate you, but Peter couldn't sleep knowing that you were in pain.

Carol left 3 days ago to return to her mission. She was the only person who you wanted to see; you had been through so much, and nobody could get you thought it better than her. Hobbling into the elevator, you went to the roof. You were wearing a onesie, courtesy of Wanda, and just wanted to be alone on the balcony to see the city like you and Carol had done a week ago. Once the elevator doors opened, you felt the chilly evening breeze hit your skin. Before you could step out of the elevator, you saw somebody stood on the balcony. You didn't recognize them at first, but they knew exactly who you were.

"Well well well, my favourite earth human seems to be doing quite well considering that she almost died last week."

Carol turned around and jokingly winced when she saw the state you were in, and you would've laughed if you weren't in complete shock.

"Carol..."

"Y/n."

"What are you doing? You shouldn't still be on earth." You made your way over to meet her on the balcony.

"I couldn't just leave you in a coma while I fight crime across the galaxy."

You laughed, and grabbed her hand, not a single worry crossing your mind.

"I love you, Carol. I have for ages, but I've never appreciated how much you mean to me until now." She smirked, raising a hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I love you too, y/n." You stood on your tip toes to kiss her, and she pulled back immediately when you did. You worried that you had done something wrong.

"It feels better to do this now that we're actually a couple." You both laughed as she leaned back into the kiss, but instead, she accidentally bonked your brace with her nose, which resulted in even more laughing.

You have been waiting so long for this.

[aetherlocket]

Follow the River

BNHA X READER

Fantasy AU

This is chapter 1. Read the rest on FFNET, AO3 or Wattpad!!

There was a great white palace that was impossible to not catch eye of peering over a fog blanketed summit, where King Enji, Prince Shoto, and Enji's other children resided. Many knights guarded the palace and served under the King, and (Y/n) was one of them.

She was born and raised to become a warrior and serve for one in a higher position. It was something of a family tradition for the women to become something of the sort. Her father was more of a businessman, her grandfather a chauffeur, while her mother was a dragon hunter, and her grandmother also a knight, though not quite so skilled.

Although (Y/n) didn't have the natural talent her female family did when it came to fighting, she tried her best and eventually earned the respect of many skilled warriors in the Kingdom of Yuuei. Every day, she seemed to learn something new in the art of combat, while dedicating her life to the protection of Prince Shoto.

Only few, including her, knew of the corruption underlying King Enji and his family. The blatant favoritism when it came to King Enji choosing his heir went overlooked and uncontested in the community due to his outstanding reputation.

On the road not too far off from the great palace was a white horse. (Y/n) the knight handled the frantic animal attached to the carriage as if it was nothing, and Prince Shoto watched carefully as if he would learn just by watching her armor covered hands move the reins.

"How far is this kingdom?" he asked.

"If you fall asleep, it'll feel like nothing," the knight's voice was echoey and serious inside the steel helm.

"So it's far." Shoto sighed and his eyes fluttered closed as well, sinking into his seat just a bit. "All I must do is speak with this noble's daughter, correct? And then I may go home?"

"Yes. I've forgotten her full name, but your own father is considering a marriage between you two," (Y/n) replied without hesitation.

"I- what?" Shoto blinked. "Why hasn't he told me this?"

There was no response.

"Why do you know, but not me?"

(Y/n) stayed silent, and only swallowed nervously.

"Ah," Shoto sighed. "I see. You weren't supposed to say that."

"Please don't tell King Enji I said anything.." (Y/n) squeaked, not befitting for a warrior graced with the strongest armor and sharpest sword in the kingdom.

"Don't worry about it.." Shoto's voice lowered as he turned his head to the side, watching the trees rapidly pass by him, his hair covering some of his view as a frown made its way to his face. (Y/n) turned her head away from the road for a second to make sure Shoto was alright, and something in his expression flicked a switch in her.

"I.. You know, he isn't sure. It's just to see if she's up to his standards, I guess. Not a guarantee-"

"Won't you get in trouble if you keep talking?" Shoto said with his usual dead tone, but he was just a bit relieved on the inside. He had no intention on marrying anyone, and being forced to would further destroy the already unbearable relationship between him and his father.

(Y/n) nodded without a sound and focused her eyes on the road from then on. But then Shoto pouted. He wanted to know more.

"How do you feel about this?" Shoto asked. "This.. marriage."

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment before answering. "This.. is what the King wants, so there isn't much I can do about it. I just don't agree with it, per say... It's not right..."

"That's all I needed to know," Shoto replied.

(Y/n) always wondered what was going on inside of Shoto's mind, and that moment was no exception. He was an enigma. She didn't blame him for being cold at times, however.

She also wasn't particularly so sure about that area. She hadn't been to their destination before, so she simply trusted her instincts and a ripped map to take her and Prince Shoto there.

Being trusted with such an important figure in the kingdom gave her stomach butterflies. As she began to feel a smile free itself from under her helmet, the carriage came to a sudden halt, throwing both (Y/n) and Shoto forwards.

"Step out slowly. Keep your hands in the air and don't try anything," said a voice, and a battle axe was pointed at the pair. Three, to be exact, one for each silhouette.

(Y/n) knew better than to reach for her halberd, and reassured Shoto with a quick, soft metal touch to his shoulder, slowly leaving the white carriage. "You're challenging someone with armor and a weapon while you're bare? I hope you know that you won't be leaving with the Prince."

"Oh, we don't care about the Prince. We just happened to hear from someone that you're carrying a lot of money in that carriage to offer the daughter of that noble," said a different man, presumably a second bandit. "But we may have to kill him if you resist. There's three of us, and only one has to get close to him. Your armor means nothing."

The third bandit made his way behind the carriage, closer to the Prince, just in case. Shoto gave (Y/n) a look, though she couldn't tell, facing away from him. She was already sweating in her armor from the sun and quite worn out from training, so this wasn't the ideal situation for her. And yet, she didn't downplay herself.

The knight lifted the front of her helm, exposing her face, riddled with sweat. "Yes, there is money. There's a bag next to where the Prince is sitting," (Y/n) said, taking the chance to look at Shoto. He shook his head, as if reading her mind, diverting his gaze to the bandits, his hands inching closer to his sword by the second.

"Before you go and do that," (Y/n) said, stopping the second bandit from walking past her, "Who gave you this information? Only us, the King and the noble were informed of this."

"I won't say. You'd have them executed. They're a big help, so we can't have that," he said, and smiled. (Y/n) cursed mentally. Was it one person, and the bandit refused to reveal their gender, or is it another group of people?

As the second man placed his foot on the edge of the carriage, (Y/n) halberd left it's holster, its tip barely making its way to the second man's neck before the edge of an axe was placed dangerously close to Shoto's neck as well.

"You're risking the life of your Prince? I don't understand you. Some knight you are," said the second bandit.

"I apologize," (Y/n) said, moving her halberd away from his neck.

"Thank you for the distraction," Shoto said, and before anyone could process it, blood fell down like a fountain to dirt. The second bandit tried to speak, only to cough up blood. "Speaking with a sword through your heart proves to be difficult, doesn't it?"

The loud thud of the large man hitting the floor made even the knight flinch, watching the man writhe in agony, holding his fist weakly against his heart for his last few moments. She then realized; she wasn't doing anything to help whatsoever.

"Fuck!" The other men had tried vigilantly to swing their axes at the Prince, who jumped back off of the carriage. It seemed that they had completely forgotten about the money, and focused their attention on the death of the Prince.

The knight missed her attack, but they couldn't even reach the Prince before a clean slice to their necks were delivered by who they were trying so desperately to kill. They went into a stiff paralysis and fell over, holding their necks and drowning in their own blood.

(Y/n) could only stand there mesmerized, lowing her bloody halberd, almost forgetting to wipe the acidic substance coating it.

She was also, frankly, ashamed.

The blood on her halberd wasn't because she had killed them, saving the Prince. It was splatter from the Prince having to defend himself with an incompetent knight by his side.

"I assume we'll have to reschedule this little trip," Shoto said, wiping some blood off of the edge of his lips and softly running his fingers through the docile horse's mane. "Turn the carriage around."

****

Many could tell, simply by watching (Y/n)'s face in the rare times she had her helmet off, or even completely covered, simply from her body language, that she didn't enjoy working in the palace. Even Shoto could tell how much energy wearing the heavy suit and sparring with the others as training took from her each day.

No one could blame her. No one liked working for Enji Todoroki. Ask anyone in the palace for their opinion of him, and it will be some variation of 'bastard' or 'good for nothing.' Ask people outside the palace, and it will be something positive or indifferent, because they believe whatever the newspapers tell them.

Shoto had asked his knight once: "What do you think of this idea; I run away from this place and start a new life."

To which (Y/n) blinked and removed her steel helmet, a way of expressing her concern. It was then that Shoto knew she was serious. "Are you really considering this?"

Shoto only nodded. He felt often like he had said too much, basically, whenever he spoke. His father did a great job of making this point around him.

"I understand," said (Y/n), to his surprise.

He expected a, 'You're delusional. You're a rich prince with everything you could ever want!' or, 'Don't take your position for granted. I'd kill to be in your place.'

"I doubt that," Shoto replied, attempting to provoke her into speaking her mind a bit more, hoping for more encouraging words.

"I can tell why you do, my Prince," (Y/n) said. It wasn't working.

Shoto sighed. "I can't talk to anyone without them treating me like a Prince. I'm just a normal kid on the inside, damnit.." His voice was as low as a whimper, but (Y/n) could hear every syllable as they left his mouth. She pretended not to hear and kept her head down.

***

Shoto hadn't dared to enter the knight's quarters without permission once before.. but he had made up his mind that night about something.

Shoto chuckled as he saw (Y/n) with her helmet still on as she slept. He removed it as slowly as possible, and wasn't surprised to see that her face was sweating uncontrollably with rosy cheeks, and her hair messy.

He almost forgot why he was there as (Y/n) began to wake up, presumably from the sudden influx of cool, fresh air hitting her face.

Shoto held his hand out before the girl could fully awaken. "Come, I'm leaving tonight."

"Prince? What do you mean leaving? Why are you in the knight's quarters? I-"

"Just get your armor and weapons and come," Shoto put a finger to her mouth, lightly squeezing her arm. She didn't dare protest any further. If it was the Prince's will, then she was meant to follow it, no matter what. But there was something off this time. He seemed happy, in a way, for once, without smiling. Shoto helped carry parts of her armor out of the quarters while she carried her halberd, most dangerous areas facing the ground as Shoto led the way.

"So what's happening exactly?" (Y/n) asked, stuffing some leftover yen into her pocket.

Shoto only walked into his room and gestured for the knight to join him. He was already wearing what he usually did, his royal attire embroidered especially for him along with his holstered sword. "I told you, we're leaving."

"You weren't kidding..?" The knight chuckled. "I understand you want to leave this place, but think about it. Your dad will do anything to get you back-"

"I don't care. I'd like to see him try," Shoto replied coldly, polishing his weapon and slipping on a few bracelets, hiding them under his sleeve. "I'm not going to that noble's place. I'm not marrying his daughter either, so I'll have to leave before the trip is rescheduled. Easy as that."

***

"So where.. exactly.. are we going?" (Y/n) asked the Prince.

"To a certain mountain," replied he.

"You don't mean.. That one.. right?"

After a brief moment of silence, (Y/n)'s worst fears were confirmed, and her tongue began to feel heavy in her mouth. "Sir.."

"Is there a problem?" Shoto asked, looking straight ahead as he walked.

"I'm.. not sure if I can protect you, if anything happens, if that makes sense."

Shoto stopped and turned to face the knight. "What are you talking about?"

"Well.. a few days ago.. those men trying to take the money.. and how I was basically useless.. You had to do everything yourself. It doesn't make sense-"

"You were tired," Shoto interrupted her, then continued walking.

(Y/n) stood there for a moment, staring at the ground before picking up her pace to match the Prince's again, until they reached the base of the mountain.

"Why are there steps?" (Y/n) asked.

"Mount Hosu used to be a tourist attraction.. it's closed because of the dragon rumored to live here now."

(Y/n) shivered. "Dragon."

"Did you say something?"

"Nope."

They continued forward, climbing up an unholy amount of steps before it split into two different paths. One of the paths was dry and bare, while the other had a stream of water beside it.

"Just follow the river," Shoto said, and walked along the path with the stream of water.

"How come you know this place so well, Prince?" (Y/n) asked. As far as she knew, Shoto stayed locked in the castle all his life, and only left under supervision from her or another trusted knight.

"It's not Prince anymore, just Shoto," the boy dodged the question expertly.

***

It took a while, but they finally arrived at the top. (Y/n) immediately used her survival skills. (Y/n) gathered dry wood and use a spindle stick to light a small ember. Shoto tried himself but failed, only giving himself some splinters from the wood.

With the knight's guidance, Shoto successfully managed to roast a wild animal. Of course, Shoto had really understood none of it, but nodded in silence, and hoped that she would help him later.

"Now that I've helped you.." (Y/n) began to trace her finger across the dirt. "How about you teach me more about fighting? A knight should know more, if not just as much, as their Prince. It only makes sense."

Shoto hummed. "You're already known as a strong warrior. I don't believe you need extra training."

"Please?"

"I'm nothing special.. I can't really teach."

"Please?" (Y/n) pleaded.

"... Tomorrow, maybe," Shoto relented. He walked over behind a tree and took out two folded tents.

"Did you plan this or something?" the knight asked.

"I've been considering it for a while, let's say."

As they settled, a teenage boy had just finished climbing up the same steep mountain as the Prince and the Prince's close knight, and he was exhausted. Then, as he caught his breath, he repeated his goal over and over in his head; to hunt down the dragon perched somewhere on this godforsaken mountain.