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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

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FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater.

it was nothing but a lucky draw, on your part. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he let you choose; four chairs, four desks, one in the very back and closest to the window. right by the only source of heat in the room.

… of course you’d choose it. cliche or not, what else could you have done?

warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, planets spinning out of orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones safe and snug and covering your ears, muffling all grating noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude. he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

how exhausting.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. just to meet his gaze — the blurry shine of your own reflection, in the black glass of his circle-frames. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face.

like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper. monotone. loud.

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own blurry face, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he shifts his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more.

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats.

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two pools of blue, flecked with pure white, like frozen puddles in the street. cracks stretching across the surface.

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams.

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod.

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him.

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing.

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour.

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world.

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw.

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence.

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers.

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing.

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again.

”… i can buy some for you, though.”

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out.

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does.

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks.

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be.

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so.

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway.

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck.

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him.

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down.

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side.

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter.

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay.

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing.

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders.

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe.

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks.

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in.

(but you aren’t worried.)

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

4K notes · View notes

amuromi · 5 months ago

Text

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 6.2k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!gojo, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names (mama, baby), oral (f!receiving), talks of having kids and starting a family, ooc!gojo

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ The sequel is here! I felt like I couldn’t continue the storyline without at least mentioning the complications of someone like Gojo having a kid. It’s inevitable that they’re going to have a high level of cursed energy, so I wanted to explore the idea of sorcerers trying to live outside of jujutsu society constraints while also still having to adhere to them.

✮ 𝐌��𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The heat is on because it’s mid-winter and it’s finally gotten cold enough to snow, but somewhere in Gojo’s sprawling apartment a window is open. Not wide enough to cause a terrible draft–not that Gojo cares because he can afford to open all the windows while the heat is blasting at full tilt–but just enough to let in the smell of the crisp air outside. Gojo admittedly isn’t overly in tune with his sense of smell, all things considered. His strength is in his eyes so he’s never bothered to mull over the things that aren’t associated with his sight. He can’t exactly see the scent of frost and he can only smell it as well as any other person, but the window is open because he knows you like the smell of light snowfall.

His staring problem comes with the territory, but, in the comfort of his own home, Gojo can’t really be faulted for looking too hard at any one thing. Especially not when his eyes are locked on his pretty girlfriend laid up on his couch. You’re curled up like a kitten in a nest, tucked into another one of his shirts and bundled beneath the giant fleece he bought because you’re always catching a random chill. It probably has something to do with low iron levels and leaving the window open in the winter. He briefly considers buying supplements but the thought is lost as soon as it forms when his eyes catch on the distracting length of your leg peeking out of the fuzzy blanket. It’s a wide expanse of bare skin that belies a lack of pants or at least anything beyond another pair of those damningly short shorts you love to wear around the house. There’s the fleeting thought that your aversion to longer pants might also be a contributing factor to your constant chill but he isn’t about to mention it. You’ve never had any qualms about going against things he says, but it’ll be just his luck that you actually decide to start wearing pants around the house and then where would he be?

Infinity makes his footsteps imperceptible, especially with the adage of the downy carpet. There isn’t even a twitch of your lashes as he crouches in front of you, staring at your face half buried in the blanket before he reaches out to touch your leg. There’s no need for him to have his Infinity up in the house, but it’s habitual at this point, as easy as breathing. It’s the dropping it that always gives him pause. After going so many hours, day after day, never truly touching anything, it always feels like he’s relaxing a tense muscle when his barrier comes down. Not necessarily painful but palpable. The same way you can always smell when a storm is coming, Gojo can feel when his Infinity dissipates even though it’s intangible by nature. And once it’s gone he can feel everything. Hot or cold, the temperature never really matters because he’s always in his little bubble of body heat, but now he can feel the artificial rush of the vents pumping out waves of warm air and the slightest chill from the open window.

Goosebumps rise over your skin as he traces his finger up the length of your leg. The jut of your ankle, the slope of your calf and the curve of your knee to settle over the softness of your thigh. You’re warm in a way that’s different from the blasting heat. Soft and comforting and Gojo tries not to dwell on what that might mean for his constant lack of physical contact. He drops his Infinity on occasion. Especially to interact with you or his students that are doing nothing but feeding into his desire for fatherhood, but it’s still few and far between. More often than not, Gojo is locked inside the untouchable barrier of his cursed technique. It’s not exactly loneliness that he’s feeling but some type of longing that makes him settle next to the couch so he can lay his cheek against your leg and just feel. His Six Eyes still tries to tell him things, outlining the shape of your body buried elusively beneath the blankets in a silhouette of cursed energy, but he closes his mind to it as best he can.

It’s always been something unspoken between you; your level of cursed energy. You ended up a bit like Nanami, a bit like Suguru, turning your back on jujutsu for your own reasons. He’s never forced you to come back, never really even asked why you left because he doesn’t exactly care. All Gojo needs to know is that you’re happier with your life as it is, living as a non-sorcerer. He can’t really wrap his head around your love of working retail when it’s such a mixed bag of benign and volatile customers, annoying bosses, and ridiculous hours from what you tell him. But it’s leagues safer than fieldwork and Gojo isn’t about to be the one to coax you back into active duty. He barely tolerates when the higher ups call you in to do menial managerial tasks when the school is shorthanded.

Their excuse for still keeping you on the payroll even after all these years always boils down to something about death being the only way a sorcerer ever really leaves the business. As if jujutsu society is some kind of yakuza holding members hostage. The people in charge act like sorcery is an inescapable cult and Gojo will be glad when he’s done tearing them down from the inside out. And as if you can sense him working himself up even in your sleep, Gojo watches your lashes pinch and flutter before a hand comes slinking out of your fuzzy cocoon to settle on his head. Your eyes are still closed but the momentary tension leaves your brow as soon as your fingers skim over his hair. No Infinity, only comfort.

“What’s wrong, baby?” It’s always so instinctual the way you reach out to him. You always have an innate ability to tell when he’s falling and needs catching. Even just the sound of your voice, low and thickened with sleep, is enough to banish any worries from his mind. At least for the moment.

“Nothing,” he says just to hear you mumble back “it’s something,” like you always do when he lies about what’s on his mind. It isn’t a matter of trust because Gojo trusts you with his life. He just doesn’t want to plague you with all the things he’s mulling over. It’s really only important to him. You’ve already declared your disinterest in sorcery, he’s not about to force you to listen to him formulating a plan to reform jujutsu society. And besides, he can’t have you worrying because it isn’t good to worry when you’re pregnant. Something about stress not being good for the baby. Sure, you aren’t pregnant yet, but he can see it coming in the near future.

It’s not like he’s worn you down, you’ve always been way too steadfast to be bending to anyone’s whims. It’s more so just that it’s time. That ever constant “soon” looming closer and closer on the horizon.

“Quit your job,” Gojo says, sounding every bit like a petulant child. Finally, your eyes open. Just barely, only enough to give him a hazily unimpressed look.

“I know that’s not what you were thinking about.” He knows you know, but he also knows you won’t press him on it. Even when you were an active sorcerer, there were just some things you didn’t want to know about for plausible deniability’s sake. No need to get your hands dirty, especially now that you’re not even active anymore. Gojo’s strong enough to take on the consequences of his actions, strong enough to keep you safe from the fallout of his decisions. And anyway, he’s far more concerned with his personal life at the moment. What he does at work becomes virtually irrelevant the second he’s alone with you.

“It’s what I’m thinking about now!” He’s whining because it’s really all he has on his mind now. The idea of coming home from a long day of work and being greeted by the pattering of little feet as your babies rush to meet him at the door. He imagines them all chubby cheeked and starry eyed, pushing to be the first one he hugs when he gets home. He’s annoyingly fixated on the thought and thumps his forehead against your thigh, knocking against you over and over until you’re fisting your fingers in his hair to keep him still.

“You’re annoying.” You mean it but he can hear the endearment in your voice. And just to really get on your nerves, Gojo starts pouting.

“I’m lonely.” It’s true in a way he doesn’t want to admit. Never mind the fact that he has his cheek pressed against your leg, arms wrapped tight around your thigh. There’s always been that nagging sense of loneliness. The looming feeling that something is missing. Children or something else, Gojo doesn’t know. But he does know that he wants babies. Your babies. Preferably sometime in the very near future if you’ll let him.

“Lonely? Then what am I?” He feels you flex your leg as if to remind him that there’s no space for loneliness between his skin and yours. But there’s a hint of something in your voice, that heaviness of unspoken acknowledgment. You’ve known him for so long, been together for so many years. Some things don’t need to be said for you to know. It’s innate, intrinsic. And he loves you for it. You’re everything to him, but what he decides to say is,

“The mother of my children.” There’s desperation in his voice but Gojo doesn’t care to be embarrassed. He’s been stuck on this for most of your relationship and he isn’t about to get flustered asking for what he wants for the umpteenth time. You haven’t shamed him the first thousand times he’s asked so he isn’t expecting to get teased on attempted one thousand and one.

“I’m not pregnant yet.” Gojo perks up. That’s new. The two of you have had this conversation in some variation at least once a week for months now and Gojo has grown used to all the answers you usually give him. It’s always something like “not yet,” or “let’s wait a little while longer.” And he does wait, but he’s also woefully impatient. Gojo knows you’re not pregnant and that’s the torture of it all. You’ve already said you’ll have his children. Kissed his forehead and reminded him that not now doesn’t mean not even whenever he gets particularly sulky after being told to be patient. It’s always just a matter of when but he’s eager for when to be now. And something about your answer makes him look at you with wide eyes.

I’m not pregnant yet. It’s teasingly open-ended, like you’re taunting him with the knowledge that you’re not pregnant but you could be. But Gojo knows you wouldn’t tease him like that. Not about this. He’s always been a tad bit overzealous in his pursuit of babies but that’s because he wants it so bad, and he knows you wouldn’t be cruel enough to taunt him with it. He trails a hand up your thigh, dipping beneath the blanket as he maps out the curve of your hip. A shiver runs through your body as his fingers dip under the hem of your shorts.

“Not pregnant… yet?” It’s hopeful. A question lingering in his tone. Is it time? Will today be the day? You smile, going back to petting his head, and that’s all the answer he needs. “You looking to change that, mama?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask again,” you tease. “Thought you kept track of my ovulation window.” You’ve been waiting? Gojo’s heart stutters in his chest. All he had to do was ask. It’s always been that way really. He’s been begging you for so long because he knew it was just a matter of asking when, but after so long of being told to wait a while it seems almost too good to be true hearing you say you’re ready now.

“You better be serious.” He knows you are because you know how desperate he’s been for it, but he can’t help but want to hear you say it again. Hear you ask in so many words. He’s always begging and pleading and Gojo wants to hear you want it just as plainly as he does.

“Don’t make me beg, Satoru.” It isn’t what he wants to hear but he scoops you and your blanket into his arms even still. He’s got all the time in the world to hear you ask for it and he’s not about to delay it any longer just because you want to play coy. He can see it in the way you’re biting at your lips trying to hide a smile, feel it in the way your arms wind around his neck. There’s a slight tremor to your hand as you run your fingertips up the column of his neck. He can almost hear the way your heartbeat has spiked, blood swelling with desire as he lays you down in his bed. It’ll be your bed soon because there’s no way he’s about to spend even a second more than necessary away from you. He’s been begging to get rid of your apartment for almost as long as he’s been wanting a baby, and Gojo is looking to have it all in one fell swoop.

“Gonna have to move in with me, mama,” he reminds you. Marriage is a more amorphous thought. Really it’s just a piece of paper that will serve to complicate your lives. He’s the head of a clan and his wife will have certain expectations imposed upon her that he doesn’t want to wrestle with right now. Maybe later, when he’s made things better. But for now he’s happy just having you. You don’t have to be a Gojo just yet because you’re his regardless. You’re in his bed, wearing his clothes, wanting to have his baby. Gojo can’t put a bigger mark on you than that but he’ll sure as hell try as his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin of your neck. You make that same gasping sound you always do, a little shiver running through your body as your hands find his hair again. Your grip is tighter than before, pulling at the roots as he digs his teeth into your delicate skin. Usually he’d be more careful about where he’s putting his little love bites but he can’t bring himself to care right now, and you don’t seem to mind.

“You gonna ask for it, mama? I’m not gonna give it to you if you don’t ask for it properly.” As much as he’s been begging for it, Gojo won’t settle for anything less than hearing you tell him exactly what you want from him. All he’s been hearing is you telling him to wait, so he’s not giving you anything without explicit permission. Of course you take your time with that, too, and Gojo is more than happy to indulge you. It’s like running a marathon and finally seeing the finish line so close within reach. He can count the steps, the breaths, the heartbeats it will take until he crosses the line and finally, finally gets what he wants. It’s what you want too, or else you wouldn’t have said anything. It’s easy to provoke him when it comes to this and he hasn’t heard exactly what he wants yet, but he’s still keen to get you out of your clothes. And for all your smirking silence, you let him. Lifting your hips and arching your back as he strips you out of your clothes.

For a moment, all he can do is savor the sight. His girl laid out on his bed, so close to asking for his child. You squeak when his nose presses into the space between your breasts, skin cold without his Infinity to regulate his temperature but he’ll be warm soon enough. Already he’s soaking in the heat pouring off your skin. You’re that fuzzy sort of warm that comes with the first waves of wakefulness, eyes still half-lidded and skin nearly feverish as he rubs his cheek against your bare chest. You smell nice. A perfect balance between his scent and your own, mingled together in a heady fragrance that has his tongue drawing wet streaks across your skin. He shivers as you thumb at the nape of his neck, brushing over the cropped hair at the back of his head because you can’t get enough of the feeling. Gojo is almost certain he’ll be just as insistent with touching your stomach when you start to show.

He can already imagine how you’ll look. Only a few months pregnant, belly just starting to show. In his shirts you’d look the same as you always do. They hang so big off your frame that no one would be able to tell what was growing beneath it. But he’d know. And when you got bigger the whole world would know. Belly round and breasts heavy, whole body changing to accommodate the little life you made together. Gojo already can’t stay off you and he imagines your first pregnancy will shatter what little is left of his restraint.

“You’ll tell me what I wanna hear, right, mama?” He murmurs against your stomach. He kisses around your naval, moving lower to dig his fingers into the thickness of your hips. You return the favor, running a hand through his hair until your grip tightens, pulling his eyes towards you. It sends a stinging twinge of pleasure down his spine, scalp prickling beneath your rough treatment as he stares up at you. He realizes you’re holding so tight because you need something to ground you. He can feel the way you’re squirming beneath his weight, hips shifting awkwardly as he pins you down with his bright blue gaze. Gojo has always been so open about wanting to start a family yet you can hardly articulate the words to ask him. It’s what you both want, but after so long saying no he can imagine how hard it is to fix your lips to say yes. It’ll be hard to collar him again once you let him off the leash.

“Satoru,” he nearly melts at the sound of his name on your tongue. The way you say it with such sweet reverence. He can hear the affection in every syllable. “I want it.” It isn’t some heartfelt confession but it’s just as sincere, and Gojo hasn’t exactly been asking for it in the most romantic terms. You aren’t begging yet but it’s a start. A slow one compared to how feverish he’s been in his desire to get you pregnant but it’s enough for the moment. He can hear threads popping with how quickly he works to get your clothes off. It’s his shirt anyway and he has the money to buy you as many new sets of underwear that you want for nearly ripping your panties in half as he yanks them down your thighs. The poor lace is mangled as you kick it off your ankle but he doesn’t hear you complaining. In fact, you’re giggling. Laughing and smiling so pretty as he kisses your knee.

“What’s so funny, baby?” He asks. You poke him square in the forehead as he looks up at you.

“You are.” You’re still laughing. “You’re like a damn puppy.” It’s not the first time you’ve called him that but it makes him smile every time. He presses his grinning lips against your skin and smiles wider when you call him a weirdo as he licks the inside of your thigh.

“Don’t complain now. In a few minutes you’re gonna want my tongue all over you.” His tone is joking but he watches the word land. The way you go quiet, nipping at your lip to hide your smile behind a shy pout. He can feel your thigh flexing as he rests his head against your leg, squirming at just the thought of him touching you. Gojo has regained some of his control, reigning in his eagerness so he doesn’t get overzealous. The last thing he’d want is to hurt you. He wants the conception of his first baby–all his babies–to be perfect. Even if it’s him that’s asking for it, it’s not really about him. It’s about you. Your body. You’re the one that’s going to be going through the woes of pregnancy, so the least Gojo can do is make the prelude feel good. He kisses your leg again, sinking his face into the soft skin, absolutely melting as he frames himself between your thighs.

There’s an ease to the way his arms hook behind your knees, pulling you down the bed until you’re flush against his face. The sound you make when his nose nudges at your clit has his head going hazy, empty to anything that isn’t you. Sleep still clings around the edges as you moan his name, a low hum that’s steeped in fading fatigue. He can feel your body rising to full consciousness, finally catching up with your mind as your legs shift along the curve of his shoulders.

You’re still so warm, that sleepy heat lingering as your thighs close around his head the moment he wraps his lips around your clit. He’s only got his lips on you for a second and you’re already squirming, half trying to run away from his mouth. Gojo laughs, the sound rolling off his tongue to tease at your clit. You whine, pushing at his head even as your thighs pull him closer. He whines when you scramble far enough to get away from his mouth, glassy eyes staring up at you like you just slapped him across the face. There’s tears sparkling in your eyes as you look down at him, brows furrowed and lips caught between your teeth. Gojo leans in again, real slow like you won’t notice if he moves at a steady pace. You whimper and start squirming again the second his lips brush against your skin. He tries to be gentle, kissing over the swollen hood of your clit as his tongue parts your sticky lips. A faint, whimpered “wait!” falls from your lips and Gojo pulls away, forcing back a groan, trying not to look at the way your pussy is drooling on his sheets.

He presses a kiss over the curve of your mound, doing anything to distract himself from thinking about where he really wants his mouth to be. The mess of your arousal is drying sticky on his lips, leaving glossy little prints as he kisses across your stomach.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” His voice is breathless, muffled against your chest as he crawls up your body. You’re still trying to pull him closer and push him away, thighs locked around his waist even as you knot a fist in his hair to pull him away from your pert little nipples.

“Fucking tease,” he mumbles against your collarbone, void of any true malice. It would almost be amusing if he wasn’t nearly vibrating out of his skin with the strength it’s taking to restrain himself.

He can’t help but grind against you when you pull him into a kiss. It’s a heated mess of tongue and teeth, barely passing for affection. It’s desperation on the cusp of frenzied aggression as he grinds against you, cursing at the barrier of fabric between you. You’re already clawing at his shirt and there’s no mistaking the sound as Gojo shreds the fabric to be closer to you. His pants are a bit harder to contend with, made infinitely more difficult with the way you’re all but fucking him through the fabric, legs locked so tight that he can barely inch his hand between you to shove the last piece of distance between you out of the way. He knows the moment you register his skin against yours. You’re babbling, close to tears as you whimper his name. It’s a broken mantra that sounds so sweet on your lips. He only gets his pants down to his knees before you’re shoving his hand out of the way. He nearly misses the determined mumble of “make it fit,” too focused on the way your hand feels wrapped around his dick.

It snaps him back to focus for a second. Long enough to worry about you hurting yourself without his fingers to stretch you open first. But all thoughts melt from his mind the moment you guide his dick between your thighs. He can feel the last threads of his self control unwinding bit by bit as you clumsily guide him where you want him. It’s a messy drag up and down your slit before he catches against your entrance. He can feel how eager you are, clenching at his head as he grips at your hips to keep you still.

“Just the tip,” he stutters even as you groan out your despair. “Be patient, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He still has the taste of you on the back of his tongue, that orgasm that you ruined for yourself. He can feel the way you’re still trying to pull him in closer, heels digging into the small of his back to no avail. Gojo is stronger than you. The strongest ever. And even when he’s on the cusp of coming–pitiful when he’s barely inside you–he can keep himself from giving into temptation if it means keeping you from harm. Even if you want it now, you’ll be cursing and whining about how sore you are later and he wants this to be a good memory. It’s messy and fast but he can still practically see the hearts in your eyes when he looks down at you. Then you smile and he knows he’s a goner.

“I’m gonna come,” Gojo says without a shred of embarrassment. He’s long past that as he feels your pussy suck at the tip of his cock. He doesn’t go any deeper, still feeding you shallow thrusts as he goes over the edge. It’s a disappointment to watch the steaks of white spilling out of you when he pulls back, sticky threads still clinging between you.

“Gotta keep it inside, mama,” he murmurs, already cleaning up the mess with his fingers. Your hand is on his shoulder the second he curls his fingers inside you. Pushing and pulling as your nails scratch across his skin. Only you can ever leave marks on him, only you can ever touch him like this. He gets drunk off the thought, balancing himself on his forearm as he presses his forehead against yours. Your face is wet, smeared with tears and spit and sweat. You look dewy in the lowlight, eyes glittering up at him. It’s muscle memory getting you to the edge. He knows just where to press, just how deep you need it. It’s so second nature that Gojo nearly forgets he’s got his fingers inside you until you shove your hand between your bodies, rubbing desperately at your neglected clit until your back is arching, pressing your chest against his. He can feel your heart fluttering behind your breasts as your nipples skim over his bare skin.

When you finally sag against the sheets, coming down from the high, your hand slinks over his shoulder until you’re cupping his cheek. Gojo leans into the touch like it’s the last thing he’ll ever feel.

“It’s time, Satoru,” you say, voice soft and breathless. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound he makes sounds pitifully desperate even to his own ears but Gojo can’t bring himself to stifle his voice. He only gets louder when he’s inside you again. An orgasm has you loosened enough to take him now, pulling him in with three deep strokes.

“Just like that, mama,” he murmurs. You’re less erratic now, far calmer after coming once already. “Not running now, are you?” You have the nerve to look bashful, looking away as he rubs his hands down your sides. It’s easy to guide you now, to get you to follow his rhythm as he bottoms out inside you with each thrust. There’s something so enamored about your eyes as you stare up at him. Dazed and half-lidded, full of adoration as you catch his arm where he’s holding your hips. The adoration that floods through him the moment he feels your thumb brushing against his wrist is enough to nearly choke him. Fuck, he wants to marry you. Wants you to be his in every way possible. But there’s still a thousand things he needs to do first. Things to make the world better for you and your baby. His eyes fall to your stomach, vision almost doubling from how hard he’s staring at your tummy. There’ll be a baby in there soon. His baby. Gojo feels himself getting close at the thought.

“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s a sound like music as you call his attention back to your face. Something you only say when his eyes are closed. He was lost in his dreams of the future. Of babies with his name and your face.

“I’m here,” he assures you, panting the words against your parted lips in a messy imitation of a kiss. Words are spilled in a slurred litany between soaked mouths with no clear distinction between either whining voice. The sentiment is the same no matter which one of you is saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“What do you want?” Gojo feels himself murmuring. It’s a hushed mumbling that comes as the end of a long drawl of your name, so low that the syllables come out as graveled sounds against the edge of your ear. Still, you answer to the barest hint of his voice, back bowing off the bed like you’re drawn towards him like a flower to the sun. His arm fills the space, wrapping around your waist. He can feel the way you shiver on the cusp of falling over the edge, can hear it in your voice as you babble your answer of, “you, you, you, just you!”

“My babies?” He can’t help but goad and tease even though he’s so deep inside you that there’s no question of what you want from him. Still, you answer. Clawing at his shoulders as you do.

“Yes, Satoru! Your babies, only yours!” It lights something deep and possessive in his chest as he reaches a hand down to rub the shape of his name on your clit. It’s the best he can offer with no ring, no wedding. Writing his name on your skin, pressing his mark into every corner of your body until he can do it the right way.

“My babies. My girl.” He sets his teeth against the skin of your throat, tasting the sweat as the sound of your voice vibrates across his tongue. There’s no mistake of what you want when you come. Your legs lock tight around him like he’d try to run from the way you’re milking his cock. Squeeze tight like you never want him to leave. He squeezes you tighter in turn, fingers pressed tight against the shivering column of your spine. He spells his name there too, tracing each muscle as they move under his fingertips. He feels your hands in his hair again, scratching at the back of his head. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with comfort–with you–and it’s enough to throw him headlong over the edge.

When he tosses his head back, cursing towards the ceiling, your hand is still there to catch him. Brushing against the nape of his neck as your nose tucks up under his chin. He feels your lips wet and hot against the place his pulse is racing in his throat, and knows you can feel each whining pant of your name as it falls from his lips. It’s the only word he knows as his stomach flexes, ropes of come spilling inside you. So much that it starts to leak out in a dribbling mess. Gojo is quick to pull you up, struggling to his knees so he can keep his come where it needs to be. He’s still pulsing inside you, achy from the sensitivity as your walls squeeze around him. You start squirming as the high fades, wiggling in his hold and mumbling about “put me down.”

Gojo hikes one of your legs higher, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Can’t, mama. Gotta keep it in or it won’t stick.”

He placates you with another orgasm, thumbing at your clit until you’re whining and shivering. He can feel the dull pulses as it washes over you, clenching his dick as he softens inside you. You’re so warm that it feels like he’s melting but Gojo can’t suffer the thought of pulling out just yet. But he does finally let you down. He follows you as you sprawl across the rumpled bedding, resting his head against your chest. He nuzzles against your breast until you snap at him to quit it when he sneaks a nipple into his mouth. He pulls away with a pout, kissing across your chest because he can still feel the way your heart is hammering behind your ribs. Your skin is hot beneath his lips and tacky with sweat but he can feel the goosebumps starting to rise with each kiss.

A car honks outside. The sound carries from down the hall where, somewhere in the apartment, a window is still open. A draft blows in through the half-open bedroom door. He’s not cold yet, but he can feel the shivers starting as you cling to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. He lets you pull him in, reveling in the closeness.

“Puppy,” you mumble affectionately as he nuzzles closer. You press kisses to his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth. Places only you can touch. Even without his Infinity, people act like Gojo’s face–his eyes–are something beyond human. Sometimes he feels like something divine and untouchable but then your lips press softly against his eyelids and he’s suddenly just a man. A desperate, possessive man. He catches your mouth against his, licking at the seam of your lips until they part to let him taste your tongue against his. When he’s done he takes the liberty of licking a bead of sweat from your temple and you push him away, whining about him being gross.

“S’not gross,” he pouts. “I love you.” He says it like an explanation. Like everything he does can trace back to the fact that he can’t breathe if he goes without touching you for too long. Tasting your sweat is one of the tamer things he’s done to prove his love. Sometimes Gojo wonders if you forget that he’d burn the world down for you. Then he remembers that he’s already doing it. For you, for your baby. For himself. His hand squeezes between your bodies to press against your stomach. Soon, he smiles at the thought. Now.

“You should eat something, baby.” He hears you talking, hears the concern in that soft, satisfied tone, but you’re stroking his hair like you’d rather he fall asleep against your chest.

“C’mon,” you say when he doesn’t move, patting where your nails left scratches across his shoulders. “I’ll make you food and then we can go again later.” Gojo chokes on his breath with how fast he’s trying to get his words out. “Calm down, baby, I know it takes more than once to make a baby.”

Gojo watches you grab his shirt off the floor–the one he just took off, not the one you’d been wearing all day–tucking your nose into the collar as you waddle to the bathroom with your knees hugged tight to keep the mess he made from dripping on the carpet. Fuck, he wants to marry you. The look you give him when you come out of the en-suite, eyeing the way he’s tenting the sheets just thinking about his come spilling out of you does little to make him feel ashamed. He waits long enough for his body to calm down before he’s pulling on a pair of shorts and joining you in the kitchen. You’re bouncing around in front of the stove, making eggs even though it’s late in the evening. Gojo crosses his legs and tries not to imagine that you’re making breakfast before school, waiting for your oldest to finish getting dressed as you bounce your youngest on your hip.

“You want pancakes?” He must nod because you start making batter.

“You gotta move in with me,” Gojo reminds you, eyes watching the way your–his!–shirt hikes up every time you lift your arms too high, conspicuously checking for a peek of what’s hidden just beneath the black fabric.

“My lease is up in like two weeks.” And just like with your teasing not pregnant yet, Gojo knows he has you. For good. Happiness suddenly smells like freshly fallen snow and maple syrup.

#gojo ★#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #★ mine!

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scariusaquarius · 6 months ago

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rehab. 3.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: I had someone on Ao3 ask me about how often this will get updated and my answer is that I don't know. My IRL can be pretty unpredictable and I do deal with depression on a daily basis. I'm going to do my best to update this while still working on my Leon Kennedy fic, Unlikely Salvation! Please do bear with me as I try to figure out where I want this story to go!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2

The lab was hustling with scientists, the Wakandan sunrise filtering through the enormous windows with an intensity that made Bucky eyes hurt as he stood by the cryostasis pod where the Winter Soldier would soon be housed.

The whole trek to the lab had been uneventful: not once did the soldier fight back. It seemed that the failure to complete her mysterious mission had caused her to shut down, and Bucky was tense as she was strapped down with multiple magnetic cuffs like the ones he and Steve used back in the quinjet.

Even with the super soldier serum coursing through her veins and whatever other enhancements she might naturally have or that HYDRA might have given her would prove useless. She was strapped down nice and tight.

There was a machine hovering over her knee, the tissue and bone beneath crunching and grinding as it was fusing back together, her expression unchanging despite her kneecap and patella being exposed. The air was beginning to smell of singed flesh and hair, and Bucky felt slightly nauseous.

Bucky hated knowing how much damage his arm could inflict; how unforgiving his grip was and how hard it was to regulate the strength at times so he would break yet another glass just by holding it and trying to take a drink.

And it had been so easy to crush her flesh like it was nothing.

"Howard? Howard, oh god...oh god, Anthony...!"

Bucky clenched his jaw, swallowing harshly as Maria Stark's voice whispered to him, and he was broken out of his trance by Shuri announcing.

"Once we are finished with her knee, I would like to begin deconstructing her mind. If efforts are fruitless, I would like for you to activate her again if possible. We might be able to figure out what her previous orders were and her intentions, history, anything that would prove useful to the eradication of HYDRA."

Steve frowned, asking as T'Challa simply stayed quiet, observing the Winter Soldier as she sat complacent and quiet; seemingly not hearing a word that they were saying.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? What if it doesn't work?"

Shuri replied confidently, flicking her eyes over to Steve before gesturing towards Bucky with a nod of her head.

"We will have to reset completely and start over. Sergeant Barnes' rehabilitation was easy due to the flaws within his programming that HYDRA was unable to remedy. However, we do not know what improvements have been made to HYDRA's algorithm since then. It will be challenging to separate the core person that this woman was before her programming, but not impossible."

T'Challa then asked, raising an eyebrow at Shuri as she shined a light into the Winter Soldier's eyes, taking down notes and recording her vitals.

"What if you are unable to separate the identity from the programming?"

Shuri sighed deeply, shrugging.

"She will have to be built from the ground up. This woman will be like a completely clean slate down to a new name if we are unable to figure out who she was before. I am already running the best biometric identification programs within our arsenal to figure out who she could have been. I would assume that Stark is also doing so?"

Steve nodded, replying as he watched the soldier closely as her eyes inconspicuously flicked to a scientist that readying a syringe.

"Yes, he's also got Nat looking through the database that we downloaded and coursing through any previous databanks we obtained from previous HYDRA raids."

Shuri then turned to Bucky, making him quirk an eyebrow up slightly as she regarded him with a raised brow.

"What is your take on this, Sergeant Barnes?"

All eyes were on him, and Bucky sighed slightly he stared down the soldier, watching the way her brow began to tense slightly the closer the scientist got. The second the syringe touched her skin, the soldier began to freak out.

Due to the cuffs restricting her movement, she resorted to smacking her back against the chair over and over, hissing and yelling loudly as the scientist jolted and stumbled back. T'Challa immediately shoved her down, Shuri exclaiming profanities as she snatched the syringe from the scientist and shoved it into the soldier's neck.

The soldier hissed and yanked her neck away, breaking the needle, and Shuri groaned, gesturing with her hands wildly.

"Really? Now I'm going to have to dig that out. You make things harder for yourself!"

Okoye quipped, her spear pointing towards the soldier as Steve and Bucky stood tensed and ready should the Soldier somehow get out of her binds.

"How primitive! She is like a wild animal!"

The sedative began to kick in, the woman's bucking gradually stopping, and she went limp within the chair, head rolling to the side as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Bucky's heart was racing slightly with adrenaline, and Steve observed.

"Seems like she knew what the syringe meant."

T'Challa frowned deeply, leaning back and brushing his hands off slightly as he glanced back at Steve.

"An important but grave detail: she must be remembering...or perhaps, it is a recent memory."

Shuri plucked the broken needle from the soldier's neck, humming.

"I will take it as a good sign that there is at least someone beneath the rubble. I promise you, Mr. Rogers, that I will do my best to find her."

Steve nodded before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

"You going to be alright?"

Bucky glanced over at Steve, muttering truthfully.

"I don't want to do this, but I'm only doing it for you. I'm worried that she is going to somehow lead HYDRA to me and it's gonna be a shit-show all over again."

Steve was firm, declaring quietly.

"You know I wouldn't let that happen. I'd have to miss that big head of yours again."

"You're a goddamn punk, you know that?"

Bucky couldn't keep the smile from gracing the corners of his lips, and Steve smiled at him softly before hugging him firmly and backing away.

"Alright, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll check in periodically; let you all know what we find on our side of the world."

T'Challa hummed, walking towards Steve.

"I will accompany you. I would like to discuss some things before your departure."

Steve nodded, and the two men walked out of Shuri's lab. Bucky turned back around, making a slight face as Shuri cut away pieces of the woman's clothing, revealing a black and tight-fitting compression camisole.

There were numerous scars and marks all over her body, some jagged and unforgiving while others were clean and precise. Shuri hummed softly, muttering as her fingers grazed a jagged scar that ran beneath the woman's neck.

"The things this woman must have been through...HYDRA is truly despicable."

Bucky couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even think outside of the boiling hatred and rage that was beginning to consume him at the sight of the gruesome scars that covered her upper body. Bucky could only assume that it got worse beneath her uncut clothing, and he had to bite his tongue as hard as he could.

Whip scars, burn marks, mutilated flesh that never regenerated, her body was a canvas; a horrendous painting that HYDRA had taken delight in decorating. This was more than just punishment, it was a warning.

A warning that disobedience will not be tolerated.

How many times did they slash her throat for the scar to become so prominent? How many times did they burn her skin to the point that the serum couldn't work to regenerate? How often did they beat and prod and jab and shoot and stab at her until she was too weak to fight back?

In a morbid way, Bucky took it as a sign that despite her being activated and still dangerous, her history of resistance let HYDRA know that the person that used to be there still existed.

There was someone still underneath the rubble, as Shuri had put it, and Bucky hoped that Shuri could pull her out.

But even so, would it help? Would it be right to let this woman have to live with the memories and nightmares of what had happened to her? Was it right to subject her mind to the torture of HYDRA even after being rescued?

Was it right to try despite knowing how traumatized and desolated the woman was going to be once she was free? Hell, there were times were Bucky could still smell the scent of the cologne his Handler wore when punishing Bucky, and now Bucky couldn't stand to smell the scent without being pushed into a panic.

"Don't worry, White Wolf. I am going to do what I can to help this woman."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

His voice was choked, cracking slightly as he rushed to respond, and Shuri tilted her head at him, asking Bucky with a curious gaze.

"Then what is it that plagues you?"

"I just...is it right to do this when she's gonna have to live with the memories and the nightmares?"

Bucky felt ashamed by the frown that crossed Shuri's face, but was slightly relieved to know that the disappointment that flashed within her eyes was not directed at him.

"I understand the concern, and I understand that it will not be easy for her...but that is why you are here. You have survived HYDRA and are free of the programming they worked hard to instill within your mind. With living proof that persistence yields peace, I truly think that she may become a person again...it will just take time and a lot of work."

Bucky nodded, and Shuri was quiet for a moment before she murmured.

"While it may not seem fair to save her...it is truly a tragedy to deny her the chance that HYDRA never gave her."

The words left a profoundly bitter taste within Bucky's mouth, and he could distinctly taste copper from him biting into his cheek too hard. Shaking his head, Bucky looked away from the woman as Shuri began to assess her further.

"Reactivating her will come with a risk. I would only be able to activate her, but I don't have the knowledge to deactivate, if that's even possible. When I was activated...the longer I was out of cryostasis and hadn't been wiped, the easier it was to resist the programming. I don't know if it will be the same for her."

"As I said: reactivation will allow us the ability to communicate with her. She has not been wiped, it would seem, so it is possible that this woman knows something."

Shuri grabbed a butterfly needle and a vial, putting on gloves and tying a tourniquet around the woman's arm so that she could find a vein. Once she found it, Shuri inserted the butterfly needle, taping it to the soldier's skin.

"I am now going to collect bloodwork to run DNA diagnostics and input the data into the biometric identification program to see if we may be able to identify her this way. I'm also going to do some testing to see what serum she might have been injected with to trace it back to the creator."

Bucky nodded and sat back, watching and listening intently as Shuri described what she was doing and what the programs did on a deeper, intellectual manner. While Bucky was listening and trying to absorb the information, he couldn't stop glancing over at the scars that lined the woman's body.

Horrific couldn't even describe it. It made him sick to his stomach. If Shuri noticed that Bucky was slightly distracted, she gracefully didn't comment on it. Instead, Shuri tried to distract him the best that she could while the machine she was operating was taking a scan of the woman's brain.

After a moment, Shuri hummed, a perplexed look on her face as she sauntered around the hologram of the woman's brain, tendrils of red seeming to pulse all over the organ, and Shuri's brows furrowed as she thought to herself. Bucky asked with an intrigued look on his face.

"What is that?"

"This is a digital recreation of the woman's brain as well as the areas most affected by HYDRA's programming."

Shuri looked proud as she began to move the hologram around, zooming in and out of different areas and lobes before breaking it down into layers.

"Thanks to the work that I did for you, I was able to develop an AI that was capable of identifying HYDRA's programming, as well as detect the intensity and depth that it runs. It gives possible solutions and suggestions on what to work on first...and tells me when something activates the program."

Shuri's voice seemed to lower slightly, side-eyeing him for a moment before she looked back at the hologram, but Bucky didn't notice. Bucky was floored, in awe at the ingenuity of the AI that he couldn't help but to whistle lowly.

"That's incredible, Shuri."

"Please, compared to her, you were like a walk in the park."

Shuri waved him off before she hummed, pointing to a area that was largely red within the hologram.

"However, unlike your programming, her programming is much more complex. There are multiple layers where the programming intertwines with core pieces and memories, which will make unraveling the ties difficult. There might be parts of her that will not be salvageable."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head as he replied gently.

"Like you said: from the ground and up if needed."

Shuri smiled widely at Bucky, her eyes crinkling as she teased gently, pointing at him.

"See, now you are beginning to understand."

Bucky rolled his eyes before he asked as Shuri began to work, a screen popping up and flashing slightly.

"So, what is that?"

"If we are going to salvage as much as we can of the core person she was before she became a Winter Soldier, we will have to analyze every piece of her psyche. Unfortunately, I cannot do much with HYDRA's program basically firewalling me. It is like they added some sort of encryption to her so that any attempt of undoing their work would be unsuccessful or too risky."

Bucky tilted his head, becoming slightly confused as he pointed to the red parts of the woman's brain.

"Is that why those areas are red like that?"

"Yes. If you look closely, it is almost as though these red areas are wrapping around the parts that are otherwise untouched by HYDRA's program. If we can get past the encryptions, we might be able to get through."

Bucky nodded along, crossing his arms before he glanced down at the woman, asking apprehensively.

"Are you going to make me activate her?"

"For now, no. I do not think that it will be necessary. All I need to do is bypass the encryptions, break them down, and then I will begin to root out the memories with the most significance to her."

Shuri spared Bucky a glance, relaying to him honestly.

"If possible, I would like to keep you from doing so because of the mental repercussions activating her will have. I will entrust the process to Okoye if activation is the only option we have left."

Bucky shook his head, murmuring to Shuri as he glanced down at the woman again as her face scrunched slightly.

"No, I'll do it...let's just hope that I don't have to."

Shuri became quiet, staring Bucky down for a moment before she turned away and suggested.

"Perhaps you should see the Captain off. Breaking through the encryption will take time, and I can tell that you are starting to become brain-dead listening to me."

Bucky chuckled before bowing his head slightly, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not upset your brother by leaving you with her by yourself."

Shuri made a face at him, the expression reminding him of Steve pre-serum.

"Do you think I am not capable of defending myself? This is my territory, white boy."

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but I've been on the receiving end of your brother's foot."

Shuri barked out a laugh, and Okoye made her presence known by snorting while a couple of the Dora Milaje stood by the entrance to Shuri's lab.

"At least he knows what he would be up against. Do not worry, Sergeant Barnes, I will stand watch. The Captain is about to make his departure."

Bucky nodded before expressing his gratitude, nodding gently to Shuri.

"Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

Bucky turned and left quickly, his steps quick and urgent as he arrived outside. However, the quinjet was already flying away, making Bucky purse his lips. T'Challa's voice greeted him, making the man look over at the King as he spoke.

"You just missed him."

"He's always running off on me somehow, so I'm not entirely surprised."

T'Challa chuckled slightly, before he glanced over at Bucky.

"How are you feeling about all of this?"

Bucky glanced over at T'Challa, regarding him with an exhausted look before he turned back front, watching Steve leave again.

"I'm worried, honestly. There's so many things that could go wrong. What if HYDRA is trying to find me and was using her to do it? HYDRA must know that the Avengers have been raiding the old facilities that aren't in use anymore, so why not leave her to be found and taken in?"

T'Challa hummed, clasping his hands together as he replied.

"Let them try. They will not make it very far."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly before he murmured.

"It's...strange, honestly...seeing this from an outside perspective. I knew that this was serious, but I wasn't aware of how bad it actually was. Standing on the other side of the glass...it's almost poignant."

T'Challa nodded, replying with a hum.

"When my father was killed and I was under the assumption that it was you in Vienna, a deep hatred rooted within me for HYDRA. While I understand now that it was Zemo's schemes...that hatred for HYDRA has never wavered. Even now when knowing the dangers that lie beyond those doors, I still hope for peace."

Bucky was quiet, listening intently to T'Challa's words as the king spoke, his brown eyes downcast as he continued.

"Nobody deserves to be subjected to such horrific torture."

Bucky wasn't sure on how to respond. Instead, the man just nodded and took a moment to breathe before he settled, glancing over at T'Challa.

"You're right, and if we have to start from scratch, then I'm willing to help how I can...both with rehabilitating her and eradicating HYDRA once and for all."

T'Challa nodded quietly before turning to walk back towards the lab, suggesting over his shoulder.

"You should get some rest...and maybe put that on ice."

At the mention of the wound on his temple, it began to pulse, and Bucky just sighed.

"I'll sleep it off...and thank you for listening."

T'Challa didn't respond, but a smile graced the king's lips as he disappeared through the doors. Bucky's shoulders sagged slightly, and he rubbed his temple gently, wincing when he pressed down to hard.

He had to admit: that woman could give a mean right-hook.

STORY NOTES: Bucky, T'Challa, Steve, and Shuri are all within her lab with the Winter Soldier. So far, the Winter Soldier has made no move. Shuri is using a machine that heals and reconstructs the soldier's knee, and Bucky is perturbed by the damage he had inflicted. He reflects on the hardship it took to regulate the strength of his grip in his metal arm; reminiscing about the difficulty of clutching a glass of water.

Shuri then tells the group that she would like to begin deconstructing the Winter Soldier's mind to get an understanding of her intentions, and suggests activating the Winter Soldier again should Shuri's efforts fail. Steve is apprehensive, and Shuri voices that if neither efforts are successful, then she will have to completely reboot the Winter Soldier.

Shuri elaborates that she is currently attempting to figure out the identity of the Winter Soldier, and makes a remark that she hopes Tony Stark is also doing the same. Steve comments that Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, is also combing through the databank Bucky had downloaded, as well as previously recovered databanks.

When a scientist attempts to inject a sedative into her, the Winter Soldier begins to resist; causing a scene and consequently breaking the needle of the sedative within her neck. Steve observed that the woman understood what the syringe meant, and T'Challa points out that it might be a sign that she is remembering.

Before Steve's departure, Bucky voices his fear that HYDRA is using her to get to him, and Steve reassures Bucky that he won't let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Steve exits with T'Challa, and Bucky and Shuri are left alone within the lab. Shuri begins to remove a bit of the woman's clothing, and more scars are revealed.

Bucky becomes upset by the sight of the scars, understanding what they meant, and Bucky begins to become apprehensive about saving the woman. Shuri reassures Bucky that what they are doing is right. Later, Shuri shows Bucky a digital rendition of the Winter Soldier's brain and explains what she is going to do in order to save the woman's core identity.

Shuri comments that Bucky should see Steve off, and though Bucky tries to get to Steve before he leaves, he is unsuccessful. Instead, he meets with T'Challa. They begin to converse with each other, Bucky revealing his concerns, and T'Challa reassures him that HYDRA would not make it far into Wakanda if they attempted to retrieve him. Bucky makes a final thought on the woman and reflects on her strength. End scene.

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @tilldeathripsusapart

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america

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dollieskisses · 4 months ago

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𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 ౨ৎ

pairing - dinerowner!chris x customer!reader wc - 496 warnings - swearing, use of y/n not proofread!

It had been a few days since y/n's and chris' first interaction. It might have gone over y/n's head but it played on chris' mind ever since it happened.

It was a cool winter evening, the sun had already set and the town seemed deserted. Everybody wanted to be at home late friday, but y/n found herself at the local grocery store looking for some late night snacks to feast on. She strolled down the quiet aisles, her fingers brushing against food packaging every now and again. A basket hung from her arm, it had varieties of ice cream to cheese lined up carefully next to each other.

five minutes earlier....

Chris spotted y/n walking past his diner window before entering the lonely store, he followed in after her slowly. The store was dimly lit and shelves full of food for the next days coming. Chris grabbed a basket and he walked into the aisle next to y/n's and pretended to shop.

A couple more items landed in y/n's full basket, she turned a corner walking down the last aisle of the store. Her eyes caught chris' figure, his basket was empty and he seemed quite fidgety. "Hello stalker." y/n called from afar. Chris' eyes looked in her direction as he hid a small smile. "Since when am I a stalker?" He responded. y/n took a couple steps down the aisle, closer to chris. "Isn't it a coincidence that it if just us two shopping right now?" chris grew red of embarrassment. How did she know? "Let me guess. You followed me in here because you wanted to apologise for being an asshole the other day." y/n snapped chris out of a brief daydream.

"Why would I apologise, when you were asking for it?" chris smirked. His eyes flicked back to the shelves. "What are you doing here then?" y/n challenged. chris' heart had come to a quick stop. Why was he here? His eyes widened in the moment before looking ahead. "Eggs," he spat, "the i've run out of eggs." chris grabbed a pack while finishing his sentence. y/n laughed to herself at his unconvincing answer. "Okay." Her eyes looked him up and down, y/n took a few steps back and turned around to continue her shop.

She came to an abrupt stop and swivelled on her heels to face chris once more. He brought his gaze back to y/n. "So now we are on kind-of good terms. Am I welcome back into your precious diner?" She held her basket with both hands in front of her. Chris sighed, "I guess you can have another chance." y/n flashed him a faint smile and walked to the checkout. But before chris could have some peace she called out, "As long as I have infinity chances, i'll be fine!" chris shook his head and let out a breathy laugh.

"And i'm having eggs tomorrow!"

a/n: guys send some requests!!!! fully committing to this au <3

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊Tags: @emely9274

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐

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despairots · 2 months ago

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NULLSHOT

tfatws — a snippet of one of the chapters in my bucky barnes fanfic | bucky barnes x gn! reader

this takes in the series “the falcon and the winter soldier” no exact episode but rather a snippet of one of the chapters. reflects on natasha’s death and its impact on mc’s character. steve does not die.

❝ your best friend is still alive. mine is dead. ❞ story contains: canon character deaths, steve rogers does not die because his ending did not make any sense, bucky and reader’s relationship is complicated, they’re not together but they know the feelings are there, swearing, angst that gets left on a cliffhangers.

NATASHA’S DEATH STILL LEFT a major hole in you. Something that even Bucky or Sam can’t fill with their little bickers and adventures. Clint is with his family and you didn’t wanna bother him with your problems, Steve is retired and building a life for himself, and Natasha’s dead.

If you had been there, she would still be alive, both her and Clint. You would’ve sacrificed yourself for both of them. Clint had a family, Natasha was the voice of reason in everything, they had people who expected them to come home. Not you.

Even though you had Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Clint to go home to if you had sacrificed yourself, they had others that mattered more. And you can’t compete with that, you’ll never compete with that because you knew where you stood in your friendship with all of them, and you wouldn’t do anything about it.

When Thanos snapped, you lost everyone— you lost Bucky, someone you were never able to tell you loved them until you got all the infinity stones before Thanos, snapped and everyone was back, Bucky was back. But at the cost of what? One of your best friends dying for the Soul Stone. You thought you’d be content with it but instead, you felt rage and anguish that kept burning inside you, and you had no one to tell you.

Everyone’s already moved on, why can’t you?

You picked at your lips dead skin, staring outside the window and letting your mind drift to the final fight with Thanos. You lost many good people, one of them being Tony Stark, although he was annoying and snappy, his death hit you hard. Now, you miss his snappy remarks and his sass, he gave you a new and improved tactical suit with nanotech.

You miss so many people, and you wanna move on from them, you really do. But you can’t. There’s something stopping you from moving forward, and you constantly preached about moving forward to the future. Why say all that shit if you can’t do it?

Even with the people who are still alive, hell—majority of the people you care about is still alive. Breathing, thriving, Clint got a whole ass family to take care of. Steve is out in the woods, living a life of normality, something you always wanted but here you are. Survived multiple wars, multiple attacks, and you’re not retired. You should be, living in the woods sounds nice.

Bucky and Sam noticed how you’ve been extremely quiet ever since the war with Thanos, your responses to people who pissed you off were more aggressive than normal, they had to stop you before anything physical would happen. They tried to provide you comfort, but you’d just stay silent, if they were lucky, they’d get a mumble of some sort before you stomped away.

They let you grieve alone because you’d just push them away. Even Bucky, someone who got you like no other. But did he really?

When Steve went back to return the stones, you got scared that he might live the life he never got to back then. You’d know, he told you when Tony came to him with the time travel watchy things. So, when he came back normal and still his handsome young face, you were able to breathe properly. He had told the three of you he was retiring and gave the shield to Sam.

Steve was alive, Bucky’s best friend since the 40s. Yours, is not.

You swallowed your saliva, fighting back the tears and digging your nails into your forearms. It’s been 6 months. 6 months and you’re seeing people move on faster than you are. You didn’t retire your crime fighting job because you wanted to push the pain away, the pain of Natasha’s death, Tony’s death, everything. It wasn’t healthy, you know that. But it was the only thing distracting you.

So, when you’re alone like this, not fighting anyone finally, the pain hits you like a brick and you’re back 6 months ago, receiving the news that Natasha died to get the soul stone. Her death was hard on everyone; Banner, Steve, Tony, Thor—Clint felt the worst, said how he was the one to die instead of her.

And when he said that, you left. Ignoring all the calls of your name and locked yourself into your sleep quarters, throwing stuff around and collapsing onto the ground as tears rolled down your eyes. It should’ve been me, repeated in your head constantly. You were offered to go with them but you refused, going with Tony, Steve and Scott, said that they were more capable of retrieving the soul stone when it’s just the two of them.

Fuck, you should’ve went but there’s no way to change that now. All you can do is move forward—But you can’t, you’re stuck. You can’t even turn around to see that Bucky’s approaching you.

“Hey,” He slowly placed his hand on your shoulder, making sure that you wouldn’t pin him to the ground. You looked over at him with a jump, turning around to wipe away your tears as you mumbled a ‘hi.’ He just smiled at you, grabbing ahold of your cheek and making you look at him, “You alright?” It was a dumb thing for him to ask but he got a response anyway, you nodding at his question.

He frowned, pulling you into a hug and letting you bury yourself into his chest, your body shaking lightly as you tried controlling your emotions, “It’s alright, don’t cry.” He kissed the top of your head, feeling how you stopped shaking and pulled yourself away from him slowly.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” You chuckled, wiping away any stray tears and sending him a small smile. Bucky just scoffed lightly, shaking his head to tell you not for worry, “I’ve seen you in much worse states.” His words made you giggle a little, punching his stomach softly.

It was silent, you standing there with Bucky leaning against the drawer in your room, staring at you with concern laced in his eyes. He knew why you were crying, why you were so quiet—He knew you the best, Clint flying in second place but that’s not the point.

He knew that Natasha’s death hit you hard, and even though he was never that close with her, he knew that she meant a lot to you. You filled him in on everything after they got blipped away, even telling him you saw a portrait of 40s him, said that you knew why Steve called him a charmer back then. All he did was smile was those words.

But then, you got to the point when Natasha died, and all he was able to see in your eyes was hatred, anguish, sadness, anger—and you hid that all by pushing everyone away.

“Doll, I know it’s not okay—trust me, I had my fair share of losing friends.” Bucky saw the way you looked at him before looking back at the window, picking at your dead skin again. He sighed, walking up to you and pulling your hand away from your lips, “You don’t have to carry the guilt on your own.” He whispered, lips just inches away until you looked away from him, again.

He never understood that. When you two were close like this, you turned your head away before anything can escalate, and he never knew why. You stayed silent when he asked. The tension was there every time it happened, the feelings were there but it never happened.

He looked down at your lap, exhaling harshly, “What’s that thing you always say? Keep moving forward and bury whatever?” He quoted, seeing the way you licked your lips with a scoff, “How can I? One of my best friends is dead, Buck. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He furrowed his eyebrows at your harsh tone, you noticing how he looked a little hurt.

You took in a big inhale, cradling his face between your hands, “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to snap at you, Bucky. You just caught me in a bad time.” Bucky placed his hand over one of yours, bringing the palm of your hand and kissing it, your breath hitching in surprise, “I know, it’s okay, Doll. Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt this old man’s feelings.” He joked, bring out a smile out of you.

“You have other best friends like me, Steve, and Sam. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

All you did was blink at him, placing your hands on his shoulders now as you stared at the ground, “That’s the thing, they’re your best friends. You spend more time with Sam now and you were friends with Steve since the 40s.” You pointed out, feeling your throat close up, “But before I came to my senses, you stood by their sides.” You shook your head, not believing his words.

“Okay, let’s ignore Sam and talk about you and Steve.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted, why talk about their friendship instead of yours with him? “Steve has missed you for over 70 years, he thought you were dead until you came back under the control of HYDRA. You even have a whole shrine in Steve’s museum, prior to his request.. I can’t top that.” You explained, sitting down on your bed and staring up at Bucky.

He crossed his arms—and curse that stupid black compression shirt—and stared you down with a frown, “Why are we comparing friendships now?” You clicked your tongue, pinching the bridge of your nose in stress, “Doll, he’s still your best friend.” He added on, not noticing how your jaw clenched, “No, Bucky. That’s what you think, and that’s what I used to think. He’s your best friend, and I won’t change that just because of your words.” You tried keeping your cool, tried to make sure your words weren’t laced with aggression.

This conversation was going nowhere.

“Okay, regardless. Your—“ He paused before correcting himself when he saw your eyebrow raise, “My best friend is still alive. He’s just a number away.” He used air quotations around the ‘my,’ your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you got up to leave your room.

“You don’t get it, sweetheart.”

“I don’t quite follow.” That was it. You couldn’t keep it down. You turned around, jabbing a finger into his chest, “Your best friend is still alive. Mine is dead.” Your eyes watered, opening your mouth to add something on but only a sob came out, “I don’t know what to do. Clint is MIA, Steve is finally feeling normal after years of serving SHIELD, and I don’t know what Sam is doing!” Bucky let you vent out your anger, holding onto your forearms gently.

Another sob left you, your hands going up to cover your face, “And I don’t wanna burden you any longer.” His face turned into one of worry, peeling your hands away and wiping the tears, “Doll—“

You cut him off, pulling his hands away from your face, “Steve is alive, your best friend is alive. Mine isn’t. And I’m going to have to live that.” And with that, you left. Just sourness in your words and him stranded in your room.

okay, DONT KILL ME. ik it didnt make sense that much but nat’s death is a really big blow to the mc. ALSO, im sorry for not getting to my requests and not writing that often here, but as an apology, you can take this snippet before anyone else on wattpad can see it.

#⑴ kaz’s written works!#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #avengers endgame #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes x male reader #thunderbolts

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aqwnstars · 7 months ago

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(belated) Gojo birthday special

Warnings: none, pure fluff!!

Word count: 1.4k

Gender neutral reader, you/yours pronouns used, PRETTY sure I didn't describe their body

Soft Satoru<33

Soft mornings

Satoru loved mornings like this. The sunlight seeping through the window enough to make your soft skin shine slightly, the quiet, but none the less adorable snores that left you as your chest rose and fell.

His vision was blurry with sleep before he wiped his eyes. Mornings like this, afternoons, evenings, and nights like this, just you and him. Moments where he wasn't the strongest, where he wasn't a teacher but moments where he was Satoru, your Satoru.

The Satoru you fell inlove with, the one who fell inlove with you. Who fell inlove with the way you smile so affectionately at him, making his heart race so fast his infinity acts up, body thinking it's in danger. In a way, he is.

He's in danger from how his ears ring when he sees you, the light of his colorless life, sweeter than any candy he's tasted, so sweet that it gives him a toothache.

And he's a man of perfection, one that surpasses the expectations of a human, a being that rivals gods themselves.

..Yet, when you're in the question, he's weak. He falls to his knees quickly, a sheepish, not to mention shameless smile on his face when he does so.

Why would he deny anything his dearest requests? Not that you request often, or something unreasonable, opposite.

You ask so little of him, he can't help himself but spoil you!

Often, you deny his gifts, or scold him a little, but the flush on your cheeks always give your true feelings away, greatful and bashful. You urged him to be responsible, adorable, he'd always call you.

Satoru was greatful for the moments where you can just.. exist together. No words necessary, it's as if you read each other's thoughts.

When he's overworked, you drag him to bed, even when he denies his sleepiness, scolding him on the fact he hasn't slept for over a few days, oops..

When you're anxious, his confident and laid-back personality always brought you back to Earth, his long fingers intertwining with yours, giving you the rush of confidence you often need.

Many times, he's fantasized of the way he'd propose to you, nothing seemed good enough for him, or rather nothing seemed worthy of being your proposal.

He wants to sweep you off your feet, to make you cry tears of joy when you scream yes. Nothing's good, he'd always whine to himself.

Suddenly, he sees your eyes twitch open, groggily wishing him a good morning, a sight that makes his heart clench.

The softness in your gaze, full of love and care for him. A sight he commits to memory. Your hair was slightly disheveled, hell it looked like a rats nest, "Beautiful.." he'd hum, making your cheeks flush bright pink, even more pretty.

Your roll over, closer to his warmth, seemingly everlasting even in the cold winter days. His arms instinctively find themselves wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer, chest against chest.

A soft, sleepy smile found its way to your lips, a quiet giggle escaping you at how lovesick the man looked, not that you're any better.

"Happy birthday, my sweet 'toru.." You'd mumble, closing your eyes to press a kiss to his soft lips, one that he returned almost immediately. Right, It was his birthday, the sorcerer completely forgot.

Being the strongest, he didn't have a lot of time to think about himself, not in that sense at least, so you do the thinking for him. He doesn't waste time thinking of his birthday when he has to think about his colleagues, students, and most importantly yours to think about.

"Mhh.. Did you get me a giift?" He purred, leaning back from you, taking a sweet and good look at you, memorizing even the smallest twitch of your face.

Did he expect anything? No, he never did, your presence and being alone is a gift he cherished everyday.

But, you surprised him. With another kiss, to his cheek instead, lingering for a second longer than necessary, you nodded.

"Of course, birthday boy." You chuckle at his wide blue eyes, a glint of happiness and a hint of disbelief in them. Quickly, the calm yet happy expression was replaced with ecstacy, his strong arms pulling you into his lap, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

Planting kisses all over your neck, collarbone and jawline, he asked small questions about his gift.

"Pff-- You're like a child on Christmas!--"

You couldn't help but comment despite your relaxed and satisfied figure sitting comfortably on his lap.

"How could I not be?" He purred, all excited, you swear he was acting like a puppy. "My future spouse got me a gift!!"

With a chuckle you shook your head "You get me gifts all the time, it's the least I can do."

You gave him a small smile, one he made sure to memorize, a soft, barely noticable smile, but it was so genuine, so loving. He could feel himself fall deeper and deeper for you each moment you exist.

You get off his lap, making him pout and whine as he sees your figure wrap a soft robe around your body before leaving the room with a "Be right back."

Every second you were gone to who knows where felt like hours, years actually! Satoru fidgeted with his fingers, an adorable pout carved on his face seemingly forever.

After another few seconds, he could hear, no, feel your presence. Something Satoru prided himself in is the fact he never had to use his six eyes to locate you, to feel your energy, that's just how lovesick he was.

Your head peeked out of the doorway, a playful smile on your face. "Ready?"

Satoru nodded quickly to which you entered the room, hands behind your back, you just loved to tease him, huh?

Slowly, as if you're trying to stop yourself, or time, from showing your gift, you revealed a box wrapped in baby blue and your favorite color.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight, he loved seeing those two colors together, always thinking of you two when seeing it.

"It's.. not much." You sheepishly chuckle as you hand it to him.

Taking a closer look at it, he could see just how much effort was placed into this, not a single wrinkle in the wrapping paper.

Carefully, he unwrapped it, as if to wordlessly thank you for the effort you put into it. After the paper was off, a box, full of doodles of you and him, a big "Happy birthday Satoru!!<3" written on it.

He had to resist the urge to grab your face and kiss you at the sight, giving you a look of love before he opened the box.

In the box, there was a lot of candies, sweets, chocolates, you name it, as if they're replacing the role of packing peanuts.

After eating one of the candies he continued exploring the box before pulling out a.... book?

A look of confusion found its way onto his face, it didn't look like any usual book. He turned to the first page, and immediately he felt himself tearing up.

A polaroid picture glued on the center, of you two on a date. Your first date as a couple.

He flipped through the pages of the little book. So many pictures, of you, of him, of his and his friends, of you two together, with letters, notes, doodles inside of the book.

As he flipped through, unbeknownst to him, he started crying, shiny drops of tears falling from his cheek, sniffling as he read every single note, many of them were from you, but there were from Geto, Nanami, hell, even his students!

After a long ten minutes of reading everything, bright blue eyes looked at you, pupils blown so wide they infact, look black. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.

After setting the gift aside carefully as if it's made of glass, he jumped at you, peppering kisses all over your face, some of his tears of joy falling onto your face.

"D--do you like it?" You ask, a dumb question in all honesty.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "What do-- you think, sweets?"

The sight of his smiling face, eyes full of unshed and shed tears, practically shining at you.

"I love it.." He whined, placing his face on the crook of your neck, nuzzling his body closer to yours.

That's how the two of you spent another hour, his warmth somehow managing to pull you back to slumber, relaxed underneath his body.

And in the end.. the two of you were late to the surprise birthday party you and the sorcerers have planned for him.

haha... happy late bday gojo..🩵🩵🤗🤗 i promise i love him im just a procrastinate 24/7

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #aqwnstars #jjk x reader

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 1 year ago

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Infinity

Christian Yu/Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, mention of self harm, mention of suicidal thoughts, Christian and Mito being supportive af, very fluffy

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You had been awake for hours but hadn’t made a move to get out of bed. Your glassy eyes watched the rain spatter against the large windows in your shared bedroom. You didn’t even hear the front door open and close or the pad of his feet coming upstairs.

“Love?” Christian said when he walked in, closing the door behind him.

You made no sound, your body rigid.

“Honey?” he tried again as he gently rolled you onto your back, sitting next to you on the bed.

Your eyes remained on the ceiling, never glancing at him.

“Have you stayed in bed the whole day? You’re in the exact same position you were in when I left this morning.” he said, rubbing his hand across your waist comfortingly.

Your lip quivered while silent tears fell from the corners of your eyes. You shifted, bringing your hands to hold his large one on your waist. “I’m wallowing in self pity.” you said.

Christian chuckled, you always had a knack for being funny even when you felt like shit. “Bad day?” he asked gently.

“I’m so tired all the time… No - not tired, exhausted. Everything feels so heavy and overwhelming. And I constantly have these negative thoughts… intrusive and… violent.” you whispered the last bit.

Christian knew of your past and present journey with self harm. He felt and saw your scars on the daily. He never thought less of you for them, he had the same struggle. Christian’s other hand slipped beneath the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief when he felt no new cuts on your thigh.

You pulled both of his hands to your chest, resting them over your heart. You held them, playing with his long digits every so often. “I just want it all to stop.” you whispered, finally looking at him.

Your eyes were bloodshot, it was obvious you had been crying off and on the whole day. But that comment, that is what worried him the most. “You want the thoughts to stop or do you want life to stop?” he asked gingerly.

You looked away shamefully before shrugging.

Christian’s heart broke for you. He got out of bed, walking over to your side. He pulled the covers back before picking you up bridal style. He carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter. He filled the tub with warm water, adding epsom salt and bubbles just the way you liked it. He slowly peeled your clothes off before setting you inside. The warm water and vapors made you let out a sigh of content. Christian sat outside the tub, carefully washing your hair then you. You watched him with the most thankful eyes but couldn’t manage to say anything. After a while he just let you rest in the tub, he knew you liked being surrounded by water and in lieu of the ocean the bath would suffice.

“I’m so sorry… this isn’t fair to you. I can’t make you happy, I can’t even…” you said before dropping your gaze to his crotch. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had sex, your depression getting especially bad in the harsh winter months.

“Hey,” he said in a slightly different tone.

You snapped your eyes to his, they were darker, rounder. You knew it was Mito.

“I think - no, I know I speak for all of us when I say we could never have sex again and we would still be here. We will always be here, you’re it for us. We love you.” He said before draining the bath. He helped you stand before drying you off. He walked over to the towel warmer you forgot you had bought a while back. He pulled your clean pajamas out, they enveloped you like a hug.

You rested your head on his chest before wrapping your arms around him tightly. You breathed him in, felt his strong arms around you. He picked you up, hands under your thighs as you snuggled further into him. He set you down on the kitchen counter, “Have you eaten today?” he asked.

You shook your head ‘no’ at him.

He tutted before making you a cup of tea. You watched him cut up fruits for you as you sipped the tea. He knew how much you liked them, especially the summer fruits when it was cold and snowy outside. Every once and a while Mito would stop to give you a kiss on the cheek. He walked to the living room briefly to set down the cutting board before coming back to carry you over.

“I can walk.” you said squirming slightly, feeling somewhat like a burden to him.

“I know,” he said before setting you down on the couch softly. He pulled a blanket over both of you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulled a slice of peach off the cutting board for you, smiling when you ate it without hassle. He knew your heart. He knew these times were tough and he knew he would always be there to care for you just as you did for him when he got like this. He sat and watched music videos with you, knowing you liked the dances and bright colors. Joking around with you when he could, especially when you watched his music videos. He dramatically did the breathing part of “Don’t Go Insane” which caused you to let out a shrill giggle. It was like music to his ears, seeing you finally smile and even laugh. He cuddled into the crook of your neck, giving you a cheeky kiss.

You pulled his face to yours, “Thank you,” you said before kissing him deeply. He held your face as you pulled away, lips following yours slightly as he could never get enough of you. Your foreheads leaned against each other, soaking in the moment, “I love you more than anything.” you said.

Mito smiled softly, “I love you more than anything times infinity.”

You chuckled again, happy that the person you were in love with was deeply caring and so incredibly goofy.

“Everything will work out in the end. And if it doesn’t, it’s not the end yet.” he said before pecking your lips once more.

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Naboo's Note:

Hey! Hope ya'll like this one, very fun to write and based off a request. Thanks for all the like and comments! Send in a request and I just might write it! XOXOXOXOXOXO

#writing #dpr ian x reader #dpr ian #mito #christian yu x reader #christian yu #dpr live #dpr artic

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vampirequsa · 2 months ago

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"No Heaven, Just Us”

Post-defection Geto AU: Gojo never turns him in. They run. A soft, surreal piece set in the countryside where they’re no longer sorcerers—just ghosts trying to remember how to be people.

The countryside doesn’t ask questions.

That’s the first thing Satoru Gojo notices after they run.

They don’t run like fugitives. They don’t race through cities with blood on their sleeves. They just… vanish. Somewhere between a back road and a coastline no one talks about, they stop answering the world.

The house they find is small—faded blue, paint peeling, too many windows and not enough furniture. It creaks when you breathe. There's a porch that overlooks rice fields and a shrine tucked into the hills. A place forgotten, perfect for men trying to become ghosts.

Suguru chooses the room with the southeast window. The one with the view of the hydrangeas and the tiny garden they’ll pretend they know how to tend.

Gojo doesn’t choose. He just follows.

The days stretch.

Slow. Soft.

Gojo learns how to boil rice without burning it. Suguru learns how to grow tomatoes. They fight over how to hang the laundry and whether wasabi should be fresh or store-bought. The arguments are stupid. Familiar.

They don't talk about jujutsu.

Not for a long time.

Sometimes Gojo wakes up gasping.

Dreams of Riko’s blood on the steps. Of Suguru walking away with that look in his eyes—godhood or ruin, he couldn’t tell which.

He sits on the edge of the futon, hair a mess, the night pressing in from every window. No glowing eyes. No infinity. Just skin and silence.

Suguru appears in the doorway like he always does, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, face unreadable.

“You dreaming again?” he asks.

Gojo doesn’t answer.

Suguru crosses the room, kneels, and presses his forehead to Gojo’s shoulder. “We’re here,” he murmurs, voice muffled. “Still here.”

Gojo leans into him like gravity was always pulling him in this direction.

The locals eventually stop flinching when they see them.

There’s an old woman who runs a shop down the hill. She sells pickled radish and handwoven baskets. She calls Gojo “the tall ghost” and Suguru “the quiet monk.” She gives them oranges in the winter and pretends not to notice the scars on their arms.

They help her sweep the path in exchange.

Sometimes, they forget they’re hiding.

One evening, rain hisses across the roof like an old lullaby. Gojo lies on the porch with his feet hanging off the edge, arms behind his head. The wood is wet, but he doesn’t care.

Suguru joins him, blanket over his shoulders, hair tied back. He smells like green tea and earth.

"Do you miss it?" Gojo asks.

Suguru doesn’t ask what he means. He knows.

“Sometimes,” he says. “When I remember why we fought. When I think maybe I could’ve done it better.”

Gojo turns his head. Rain runs in silver streaks down Suguru’s cheek, catching in the curve of his mouth. He looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

“Would you go back?” Gojo asks.

Suguru closes his eyes. “No.”

Gojo nods. “Me neither.”

They don’t say anything else for a long time.

Just sit in the rain, side by side, letting the past roll off them like water.

One night, Gojo cooks too much soba and nearly sets the kitchen on fire. Suguru laughs so hard he drops his chopsticks. They eat on the floor, barefoot, slurping noodles and calling each other names that used to mean something.

Gojo looks at him under the glow of a cheap paper lamp.

Suguru is smiling.

Not the sharp, cynical grin he wore as a teenager.

Not the hollow smirk he wore as a villain.

A real smile.

And Gojo thinks—this is it.

Not heaven. Not salvation.

But this. Him. Here.

Years pass.

The hydrangeas bloom every June. The sea fog rolls in every morning. Gojo gets wrinkles he pretends not to notice. Suguru keeps bees in the spring. They get a cat that hates them both equally.

They become a myth in the village.

Two quiet men who keep to themselves.

Two ghosts who found peace before the afterlife.

And sometimes, when the sun is low and the wind is gentle, Gojo wonders if this is what they were always meant to be.

Not saviors.

Not monsters.

Just two boys who got tired of bleeding for the world.

And finally chose each other instead.

#jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #suguru x satoru #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fluff #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #tooth rotting fluff #why #Spotify

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mcuthoraction · 10 months ago

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Thor Gotcha for Gaza

For every donation of $5 USD to any verified Palestinian fundraiser, donators can receive a Thor, Loki, or Hela fanwork (either fanfic/fanart) based on their prompt.

COMPLETED FANWORKS

ART

Thor and Loki childhood shenanigans (art) by @/moopzies

Loki as a hogwarts 5th year student ( in Slytherin ), playing quidditich (art) by @/cephalore

long hair Thor wearing cute little reading glasses (art) by @/twinkkurt

Loki as a kingsmen agent (art) by anonymous

Loki having rlly good cold tolerance in Norway winter, Thor looks like a marshmallow from all the insulating clothing layers (art) by @/cephalore

from an old post of my brodinsons sickfic ideas, 'Thor always being warm and Loki seeking him out when he's got chills cause it's as good as an electric blanket (that also gives you hugs) (art) by anonymous

Thor/Loki, one-sided unrequited - Thor has been slowly dying of hanahaki for centuries. By the time it's impossible to hide and he confesses, it's too late… (art) by anonymous

"When i ask my boyfriend to come cuddle me but i forget how muscular he is" meme but it's Thor asking What If!Jotun!Loki as his brother to cuddle and getting squished underneath (art) by anonymous

demon Loki flustering fairy Thor. would be nice if they danced together (art) by anonymous

hela AND brodinsons fluff (art) by anonymous

Loki likes to admire Hela while she gets ready. Loki thinks his big sister is so cool and loves the way she does her hair and makeup. Hela applies black lipstick on her kid brother after he confesses he wants to look pretty like her. (art) by @/strawberrysnakez

I'd love to see Hela having a day for her self of self care. Perhaps preparing a bath, candles, a stunning robe, some wine…. but prefer color scheme of the bath and such to be with black roses, some skull motifs, maybe random blood stain here or there, overall a hellish or underworld toned bath and setting for Hela but still beautiful for her. (art) by anonymous

transfem thor, and loki bonding (art) by @/cephalore

Loki x Mobius hug! it can be hurt/comfort or fluff! (art) by anonymous

omega!Thor's first heat (fluffy, goes well) (art) by anonymous

just some really beautiful fem-androgynous loki fanart where she actually looks at peace <3 (art) by anonymous

fandral as flynn rider climbing loki as rapunzel's window pre-thor 1 (art) by @/neongase

FIC

Loki and Sylvie go on a date (fic) by @/Griselda_Gimpel

thinking about odin turning into sparkles when he died and then thought. okay what if asgardians just turned into glitter when they died. like just. poof. sparkles everywhere. like the avengers find Thor after Loki's just died again and he's sobbing and covered in glitter (fic) by @/Lost_Sanctuary

Loki looks at his reflection for the first time as a Jotun. Thor is there to comfort. Hela is there to jeer. (Maybe in the beginning of Ragnarok, they all fall from the Bifrost to Jotunheim? And they have to stick together?) (Internalised Fantastic Racism) (fic) by @/worstloki

baby loki and frigga fluff (fic) by @/WhisperingMischief

Human AU in Thor’s POV involving a very dysfunctional odinfamily. Prompt can be taken in any direction the author wants, but primarily focused on Thor. (fic) by @/Cail_Jei

Thor/Loki - some sort of consort!Thor AU (fic) by @/thot-son-of-odin and @/thortwenty151

tesseroki AU with human loki & vampire tess (fic) by @/worstloki

Thor in a Timeloop (maybe in the Dark World, or the Infinity War, trying to fix everything) (fic) by @/worstloki

Gamora and Nebula talk about death and mercy while Loki is unconscious (fic) by @/worstloki

Hurt/comfort: Thor does something to trigger loki's flashbacks to when he was being tortured by the black order. This turns into a panic attack and it takes multiple attempts for Thor to properly calm him down. It's also eye-opening for Thor, realizing he really doesn't know how much lokis been through. (fic) by @/mayonaisie

Loki & Thor or Hela & Loki & Thor brotherhood/siblinghood (fic) by @/Cail_Jei

Thor takes Loki back to Asgard after the Battle of New York for trial, but somethings wrong. They‘re extremely physically injured, covered in scars and bruises and broken bones that were not a result of the battle, are starved, and seem absolutely terrified of everything. They are so traumatised (from what???), they can't even speak. instead of a trial, loki is hospitalised (or whatever its called. healerised?? "submitted to the healers"?), and after arguments between Frigga and Odin that have her doubting his love and care of wellbeing for Loki and her, she transfers Loki to a healers away from Asgard, on Alfheim, and stays with them there as they try healing (or at least taking care of) Loki and figuring out what happened in that mysterious gap year. (fic) by @/PlatinumInk

‘Loki committing self harm. I’ve read a lot of fics that include Loki committing self-harm, but they always end prematurely with someone walking in or the plot moving on to other things, or they don’t describe it in much detail or only have Loki very mild forms of self harm or whatnot, but i just really want a fic that the focus is just on Loki committing self harm. and being mentally ill. Self-hatred. (fic) by @/imthederpyfox

Narvi and Vali go missing (fic) by @/worstloki

Thor bringing Loki back from the era of Thor 1 or the Avengers, or even the Dark World on a post-IW era. (fic) by @/AlwaysLying

Post ragnarok Seer!thor au where baby thor is haunted by visions until Odin binds his powers/stops them from happening with mjolnir, but they come back when mjolnir is destroyed. (fic) by @/mayonaisie

TVA Loki trying to subtly help Thor without Thor seeing him, until one day Thor catches him (fic) by @/cail_jei

This list will update as more fanworks are completed.

#Gotcha for Gaza #Palestine #ThorGotchaforGaza #complete prompt list

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kassil · 6 months ago

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For @ofstarstuff for the Whispering Infinities:

A reactor core sized to sit on a desk, which glows a lovely Cherenkov blue due to the water shielding the inner workings. For its small size, it is absolutely absurdly heavy - and quite warm, attracting cats to it during the long and cold winter months. Were it not sealed securely in repurposed starship window plating, it would undoubtedly be a health hazard - but as it is, it's merely a hefty paperweight and perpetual light source.

#whispering infinities #microfiction #bespoke fiction #flash fiction

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imasallstars · 2 years ago

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SR/SR+ 【WINTER and WINDOW】Aiko Takamori

FOCUS STAT 　　　6182 VOCAL TOTAL APPEAL 　　　13 441 Skill:「Magic-like Decoration」　　　(Tricolor Spike) When ALL TYPES of idols are in your unit AND you are playing an ALL-type song, there is a 40~60% chance that you will lose 18 health every 7 seconds but, will gain an extra 13% COMBO BONUS and PERFECT notes will receive a 15% SCORE BONUS for 3~4.5 seconds. Center Skill:「Tricolor Unison」　　　When all the three types are available in a unit, all card’s gain a 40% in their TOTAL APPEAL. When playing an ALL-type song, the boost increases to 80%.

※ this card is available by reaching a certain number of points in the LIVE Infinity: WINTER and WINDOW event. You are able to get multiple copies of this card by obtaining more points in the event

#deresute event #infinity: winter and window #aiko takamori #takamori aiko #skill: tricolor spike #center: tricolor unison

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talekinesis · 8 months ago

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Separated

Gravity Falls Timestuck AU fic

Summary: The Twins are sent back in time but not together

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

"WHERE DID THEY GO!?"

Stan was frantic. He had checked the whole house. Every room, every closet, every secret room, even under the couch cushions, desperate to find something.

"Why does something weird always happen with you around!?" He glared at his brother, who was pacing back and forth in the livingroom.

"First of all, you are the one who wanted me back so badly, Stanley, so stop acting like I just came in and intruded. Secondly, Dipper rolled the Infinity sided die so-"

"So you know what happened??" Stan looked at him, his eyes desperate, pleading that they could undo this.

Stanford sighed and took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, an old anxious habit he's had since childhood. "That's the thing. Infinity Sided Die, infinite possibilities... We can only hope that wherever they are, they're safe."

Mabel found herself lying on the cold, hard ground. She groaned and sat up, dizzy and rubbing her head. Looking around, she realized she was outside and it was... winter.

It had just been summer, she had just been sitting with her Grunkle Stan watching Ducktective. She had just been making fun of Dipper and his nerd game.. Where was she now, what happened?

Suddenly blinded by two bright lights, she cried out and covered her eyes, stumbling and falling back into the cold, slushy snow. Tires screeched to a halt and suddenly some guy was yelling at her to get out of the road, but the child was so scared and overwhelmed that she just froze.

A car door slammed shut, and she barely registered the man getting out an approaching her.

"What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the road during a blizzard, kid!? Go home!"

Her eyes snapped open and she uncovered her eyes. She knew that voice. "Grunkle Stan?"

The man before her definitely looked like him. Though, he was a lot younger, and a lot less put together.. which was saying something.

He stepped back. "How do you kind of know my name? Did Ricardo put you up to this? Is this a set up!?" He frantically looked around, looking like he was about to jump back into the car and leave.

"Wait, wait! Please don't leave me!" Mabel was surprised at her own voice, sounding strained. She hadn't even realized she was crying already. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"My name is Mabel Pines, I'm your grand-niece from the future."

The younger mullet version of her uncle scoffed and got back in the car. "Look, I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm not that much of a sucker. Whoever put you up to this needs to learn how to scam people." He started the engine, causing Mabel to panic and grab the handle of his car door to prevent him from leaving.

"Please, please, I'm Sherman's granddaughter! Please believe me, I can prove it!"

This got Stan to pause. How did she know about Shermie? He narrowed his eyes and cranked the window down more so he could hear her better. "You got one minute before I drive away."

She had to wipe her eyes again and cough to clear her throat. "I'm from 2012, and in the future you're my great-uncle.. My brother and I traveled from California to Oregon to spend the summer with you-"

"Why the hell would I be living in Oregon? I know I'm traveling there now, but why would I stay-"

"Listen, Stan!" She snapped, not having the patience or the right state of mind to explain everything, "You're Stanley Pines, your twin brother is Stanford, and you have an older brother named Sherman. Sherman currently has a son named Matthew that your parents are helping raise-"

"How do you-"

"Because Matthew grows up and he's my dad! I know you're going to Oregon because Ford sent you a postcard asking you to meet him in Gravity Falls!"

Stan looked like he had seen a ghost. But these were all details she could have learned if someone was following him. "Tell me one thing I've never told anyone else before. Something only someone in my family would know."

Mabel rested her forehead against the car door, shivering violently. She was dressed for the summer, but now she was soaking wet in the middle of winter. She took in a shakey breath, thinking back to when her Stan was telling his life story.

"Y-You and Stanford had a boat.. The Stan-o-War. You were gonna sail the world together, but-"

She was cut off by Stan opening the door and pulling her inside, setting her in the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and he was breathing hard, on the verge of something close to a panic attack. He felt like he was going to be sick.. Because he believed her. He hadn't told anyone that.

Mabel was curled up in the passenger seat, shivering. She felt better now that she was in a car with the heat on, but she was still cold. She didn't even look up when she herd the sound of a zipper, or when she felt him put his jacket around her.

"Okay.." He started, "So.. If what you're saying is true.. How did you get from 2012 Oregon to 1985 Utah?"

Her eyes widened and she sat up. "I'm in Utah!?"

"Okay so apparently you don't even know.." He sighed and started to drive. "Well, you're coming to Oregon with me. I can't leave a freezing wet child from the future alone in the snow. That good with you?"

Mabel nodded and buckled her seat belt. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself as the weight of everything finally set in. She was in 1985, in Utah. She didn't have the time measuring tape, she didn't have the journal, she didn't even have Dipper.

Dipper would have a plan of some sort, right? Where even was he? Was he still in 2012, or was he stuck in the past too?

Dipper pushed himself off the ground, the snow soaking his T-shirt and shorts. He shivered and breathed into his hands, looking around. Through the blizzard, he could barely make out the outline of the shack, so he started to run as fast as he could for it.

Once his sneakers hit the wooden steps he frantically pounded on the door. "S-Stan? Let me in, it's Dip-"

Before he even knew it, he was face to face with a crossbow.

"Who's there!? Have you come to steal my eyes!?"

The boy's heart stopped and he looked up at his grunkle.. or.. who his grunkle used to be?

He was staring at a younger, messier version of Ford, who looked exhausted and insane. It was scary actually. Seeing this man he was so familiar and comfortable with, but it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. A version of his uncle who didn't even know who he was..

"N-No, I uh.. I'm Dipper-"

"I don't want any girlscout cookies. Leave." Then the door was slammed shut, and he heard at least three or four locks click shut.

Dipper knocked again, but the curtains were pulled shut.

"Darn Ford, why were you such a paranoid freak.." He muttered under his breath. Luckily he had lived here for an entire summer, so he knew how to get in. The real question was if he'd survive breaking into the house of a man with a crossbow who was more than willing to aim it at a child.

He ran around to the side of the house and to the cellar doors, starting to slam his body against them, hoping that the cold would have weakened the lock a little bit. He continued to ram his body again and again against the doors-

"What are you doing now? Stop that!"

Dipper was picked up by the back of his vest like a kitten, causing his journal to slip out. Ford picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

Without a second thought, he carried Dipper inside and shut the door. "So who are you, boy? A demon? Shapeshifter? Do you work for Bill? How did you get my journal!?"

Dipper was tossed down, grunting as he hit the floor. He turned onto his back and put his hands out as if to protect himself from the crazed man before him.

"N-No, I'm your nephew!"

"Nice try, Demon, my nephew is in New Jersey.. Though you do have a pretty convincing vessel of what he might look like."

"Your great-nephew! From the future! That journal is a future version of yours, if you don't believe me, go look!"

Ford paused. He looked down at the book in his hands. It did look faded and worn. The pages were yellowed and it looked all beaten up. He knew his was still in the basement, locked up.

"Did you say future? As in time-travel?"

Dipper let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yes.. I'm Sherman's grandson.. My dad is Matthew Pines.. You were.. Surpisingly quick to believe me, I thought I'd have to like.. convince you more."

Ford helped him up, but kept the journal. "You think I haven't had my own run-in with the time police? Besides, we're in Gravity Falls, weird things happen. But just to be sure.. I'd like to ask some questions."

Dipper nodded, shivering again. The adrenaline had worn off, and he was feeling the effects of the blizzard once more. Luckily for him, Ford picked up on this and lead him into the livingroom, sitting him down in front of the fireplace.

"Right.. So.. How did you aquire this journal?" He asked.

"It was in this secret compartment out in the woods? My sister and I traveled to Oregon to spend the summer with Stan-"

"Wait, Stan? Why is Stan living in my house in the future? I called him here to make him leave."

Dipper's eyes widened and he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't think it's a good idea to tell you too much about the future.. Like, there are certain things that happen, and need to happen in order for my present to remain the same.. If I tell you what happens, you could change it.. And if I manage to get back to 2012, and my life is completely different, it'll traumatize me and my sister.. Probably her more than me with how close she and Stan are. I can't do that to her."

Ford nodded and sat back. "That.. makes sense.. But do I tell you about my past at all? Things only I would know?"

The boy nodded. "Yes! You grew up in New Jersey, uh you and Stan had a boat... The.. man-o-war?"

"The Stan-o-War, yes.. Okay.. So you are my great nephew.. How did you get here from 2012?"

Dipper took his vest and hat off to let them dry, getting to work on his shoes as well. "You and I were playing Dungens, Dungens, and More Dungens, and I.. Well you have like this magical infinity sided die-"

"That's impossible."

"It is and it's not. I can't tell you how you get it, it would spoil the future, but when it's rolled, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly, the world could turn into an egg.. Or I could get stuck in the past."

Ford listened, interested. He raised a brow. "If you knew the dangers of the die, then why did you roll it?"

Dipper groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I grabbed it by accident." He glared up at his uncle. "You're not very good at keeping dangerous items in secure places by the way, that's the one thing I will tell you. You kept that die in the same bag as the rest of our normal dice. Who even does that??"

Ford waved him off, mostly because he was unable to defend something he hadn't even done yet. "The real question is how we're going to get you back home.. Any ideas?"

Dipper thought for a moment before he perked up. "The Time Police! My presence here could alert the Time Anomaly Removal Crew and they could come and take me and Mab-.. oh.."

"What's wrong?" Ford could see the kid practically deflate, looking down at his feet.

"Well..I don't know where my sister, Mabel, is. When I rolled the die, it brought me back here, but I heard her yell too, so.. Maybe it also did something to her? But I was alone when I woke up outside, I don't know what happened to her, or if anything even did happen to her.. I feel so helpless not knowing where she is.." He hugged his knees.

"What if I get returned home but she's stuck here alone? We've never really been apart before, if she's out there in this blizzard somewhere, I don't even know what she'd do."

Ford frowned. The idea of a little girl being trapped in an unfamiliar year, by herself, in a blizzard was scary in itself, but it worried him more that she apparently would end up being his niece. But this kid was right, they had no idea where or when she was, so there wasn't much they could do about it.

He looked at the boy in front of him, who had stopped shivering, his clothes already drying from the fire. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had never been good with kids. Not even his own nephew. He nearly dropped Matthew when he first held him, and had to be reminded twice by his mother to support the head. Surprisingly, it was Stan who was better with kids. He handled Matthew perfectly the first time.

"Look, Ripper-"

"Dipper."

"Dipper.. You're right, we don't know where your sister is. She could be home in 2012, or she could be somewhere alone in the blizzard, freezing to death-"

"Is this supposed to help me feel better?" Dipper looked up at him, even more distressed.

"No, no- I mean yes, but.. Listen. Let's focus on what we can take care of now. Right now, I have a boy in my house who needs a place to sleep and probably food to eat."

Dipper looked back down at his feet. "I'm not really hungry.. But thanks.. I think I just want to go to bed.." in his own bed, in 2012, in the room he shared with his sister, but he didn't say that part out loud.

Ford nodded and stood up. "Follow me, you can stay in my room. I usually sleep in the lab anyway."

The boy got up and followed him, leaving his vest, hat, and shoes next to the fire, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to really care. He followed him up the stairs and into the 'secret' room he and Mabel fought over that one time. It was odd seeing it full of stuff with a desk and a bed.

"You.. don't mind me sleeping in here?" He asked, stepping in a bit more. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in in a while. He yelped a little as Ford picked him up and set him on top of it, pulling the covers back.

"No, I don't mind. You clearly need it more than I do right now, and like I said, I usually sleep in the basement." He pulled the covers over him, and shut the lights off. "You get some sleep, Zipper. I have to go check all the locks at least three times each." With that, he left the room and shut the door.

"Dipper.." the kid muttered to himself.

He turned onto his side and looked out the window, the snow illuminated by the moon. He hoped wherever Mabel was, she was okay.

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scariusaquarius · 1 month ago

Text

rehab. 42.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

A/n: So this chapter is significantly shorter than the last few chapters, so there will be a summary this time haha, but here it be!!

Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. / rehab masterlist 2. chapter 38 / chapter 39 / chapter 40 / chapter 41

The silence of the cold cell was ponderous; deaf and obsolete as (Y/n) sat with her back to the wall. The fluorescent light above her was flickering every now and then, a humming sound of the electric current grating on her nerves. She was sitting on a dirtied and ratted pink blanket that was more like a simple scrap of fabric, and there was a questionable stain on the corner.

She didn't even want to think about what it could potentially be.

(Y/n) glanced at the door where a barred window was, and the outside of the room seemed to be a dark and foreboding hallway; the walls concrete as well. (Y/n) was certain that she was still in the mansion, but she wasn't exactly sure where.

A crackle sounded within her ear from the hidden communications device that was nestled within her ear canal, and (Y/n) perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice on the line.

"Talk to me, doll."

Her eyes became glassy, and she swallowed thickly before whispering.

"I'm...in a cell. They...they made me do something horrible."

Bucky's voice was soft, a twinge of anger decorating his voice like the blood that stained her hands.

"I know."

It seemed that Bucky didn't know what to say next, the silence within her ears just as palpable as the static that echoed through the device, and (Y/n) bit her lip. Bucky then said softly.

"We'll get through this together-"

The sound of footsteps made (Y/n)'s head shoot up, and her eyes widened as she cut Bucky off.

"-Bucky, people are coming."

"Don't hang up-!"

(Y/n) yanked the device out of her ear from the fear, shoving it beneath the grimy blanket she was sitting on before she sat still. The lock on the cell door jiggled for a moment, and Lukas walked in, his expression cold yet neutral; his eyes revealing nothing to the woman as she kept her gaze in front of her.

"Stand up."

For a moment, (Y/n) hesitated, a flash of fear coming through her, and Lukas' eyes darkened at the sight of her hesitating. His jaw clenched, and he hissed.

"Get. Up."

Her body was slow, rising from her spot on the ground, and Lukas came to stand in front of her. He was staring down at her from over his nose, his brows furrowed, and he muttered suddenly after a moment of silence.

"She's been out of cryo for too long...but we cannot waste time. The Conference is tomorrow, and we must make haste if we want to make sure that HYDRA secures its footing once more."

It was then that (Y/n) noticed there was a scientist in the hallway. As Lukas gestured for her to follow, her body moved accordingly, and it was then that (Y/n) was able to get a look at the man.

He was a lanky man, a plaid button up and a pair of jeans covering a pair of sneakers. His hair was a dirty blonde, wispy and ruffled. A lab coat was on his shoulders, but (Y/n) couldn't help but to be confused.

He didn't look like a scientist, but then again, people didn't always look as what they truly were.

The scientist made Lukas pause in his steps, and (Y/n) obediently froze. The scientist stepped in front of her, his blue eyes scrutinizing and skeptical as he looked her over. Taking a small flashlight, the scientist shined it into her eyes, and it took everything in (Y/n) not to flinch. The man paused, sighing before turning to Lukas.

"It might be best if we do a complete reprogram. I'm sure that the Avengers or the Wakandan's have done something to compromise the asset."

Lukas chuckled lowly, making the scientist give him a look.

"Dr. Nagel, I'd like for you to take a good look at our asset."

Lukas' hand came to her shoulder, and (Y/n) felt her back tense up slightly. Lukas' hand dragged along her skin, up her neck, along her jaw, and finally, he gripped her face within his palm tightly.

"This hollow little thing that we cultivated since her creation...our little Achilles....don't you remember that deprogramming was the point?"

(Y/n) froze.

What did they mean by that? Did that mean...they knew?

Dr. Nagel was quiet for a moment, his hand hovering over a scanner within his hand, and he glanced at (Y/n). There was nothing but cold and clinical detachment; a sick fascination that had her stomach churning with dread, and Dr. Nagel sighed.

"Alright, then let's proceed."

Lukas let (Y/n)'s jaw go, and the three men, as well as a few HYDRA agents, walked down a corridor. Although the soldier kept her face neutral, (Y/n) was horrified on the inside as she realized that the corridor was full of cells. However, she couldn't tell if there were other prisoners, and in no time, the group found themselves in a large lab.

In the middle of the lab was a sight that (Y/n) never wanted to see again. Fear and panic began to bubble up within her, her fingers twitching slightly at her side, and she could feel the beginnings of sweat perspiring at the back of her neck.

'Remember the sunlight.'

Her body calmed down, but it wasn't enough to keep the anxiety and panic from bubbling up her throat like vomit. (Y/n) was escorted to the Mind Chair, and she was forced down; cuffs restricting her arms and legs as the agents strapped her down. A mouth guard was forcefully shoved into her mouth, and an agent forced her head back into the chair.

Her breathing began to quicken, eyes widening slightly, and Lukas' laughter was a cruel addition to the humming of the machines and lights within the room.

"Ah, the asset remembers..."

Lukas walked over, leaning down slightly as he stared deep into (Y/n)'s eyes, a cruel expression on his face.

"Fear is such a beautiful thing...and it means that the programming has somewhere to go. The Avengers thought that they could save a soldier...but you're not a soldier-you're a corpse with muscle memory and a leash."

Lukas backed away, and (Y/n) began to panic. Her wrists were flailing within the cuffs, and the electric nodes were brought down against her head. As her heartrate began to spike, and she was becoming blinded by the fear, the familiar sensation of being yanked backwards came over her just as Dr. Nagel announced.

"Let's go ahead with basic reprogram. Begin."

Праздник. Крест. Разрушение... (holiday. cross. shatter...)

-POSSIBLE REWRITE-

Her eyes flew open, and she was back on the porch of Aunt Mavis' house, the same galaxy and stars stretching for miles. Her breathing was quick and hyperventilated, a hand to her chest, and (Y/n) was perturbed to see a white lab coat on her arms. The shock of the sight was enough to make her panic pause, and when she looked down, (Y/n) wasn't wearing her Winter Soldier uniform.

Instead, there was a Princeton sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, dirtied and old sneakers on her feet, and the woman shook her head with confusion. All of a sudden, a voice next to her made (Y/n) freeze, a chuckle seeming to echo straight into the stars.

"Now, what did you get yourself into this time?"

(Y/n) slowly turned to see Rebecca sitting on the old rocking chair, a book in her lap and a steaming cup of tea on the table beside her. Her brown hair was flowing freely, the signature pin curls fluttering around her bright face, and Rebecca's blue eyes were kind yet knowing. Shocked tears filled (Y/n)'s eyes, her mouth agape, and she whispered in a stupefied tone.

"Rebecca?"

Rebecca's natural-colored lips softened into a small smile, and she placed a bookmark in her book. Her white blouse was flowing as if there was wind, the tan slacks ruffling as Rebecca crossed her legs, and (Y/n) was fascinated by the way sunlight shimmered across her despite there being no sun.

"That's my name, don't you wear it out, now."

The woman teased her, a crinkle appearing within her eyes, and (Y/n) was stuck in place; unable to move from the shock. How was this possible? Where was Strange? Did he have something to do with this? Rebecca was slipping out a hankerchief from her pocket, but when Rebecca leaned forward to wipe (Y/n)'s face, the woman backed away.

"How...how is this possible? I...I don't understand?"

Rebecca was surprised by (Y/n) shying away from her touch, but she didn't say anything at first. She simply looked at (Y/n), observing her for a moment before the older woman chuckled.

"Oh, sugar, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

In a way, (Y/n) was certain that she was looking at one right now-a ghost from her past that kept haunting her memories and dreams. (Y/n) asked, her voice choking up a bit.

"How? How are you here? I...I don't..."

Her voice trailed off, the panic still settling within her bones, and Rebecca chuckled before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I’m here because you need me; because that doctor fella with the bad taste in capes thought maybe a familiar voice could anchor you."

(Y/n) was shocked and she came closer when Rebecca patted the seat next to her. Sitting down slowly, (Y/n) took a moment to observe Rebecca. It was as if the woman was really there; ethereal within the manifested sunlight that was lighting the woman up in a golden array of divinity. (Y/n) was tempted to reach out and touch the woman, but she refrained in fear of Rebecca's image fading away somehow.

Rebecca glanced down at (Y/n)'s clothes and whistled lowly, shaking her head as she leaned over and reached across with the hanker chief again.

"Oh, baby doll, you look like you took a dive into a fire."

Rebecca’s touch was more metaphor than matter, but (Y/n) still felt the warmth of her hand and the soft scrape of cloth as the handkerchief dabbed gently at her cheek. When she glanced down, confused, her breath caught.

The Princeton sweatshirt was no longer whole.

Singed. Torn. Its navy cotton stained with soot and ash, and there was a faint stench of gasoline curling up with every inhale. Smoke. Blood. Burned rubber. Her jeans were shredded, soaked through in places with drying crimson.

One sneaker was gone, and the other hung off her foot like a melted shell. Her lab coat was scorched and riddled with tiny shards of glass that glittered like frost, and her legs were twisted at an angle that made her stomach churn.

She looked at her side—red was blooming there too. Her arm throbbed with phantom pain, her fingers twitching involuntarily as (Y/n) stared down at her arm.

"This..."

(Y/n)'s voice cracked.

"What is this?"

Rebecca’s blue eyes softened. She cupped (Y/n)’s face gently, her palm as warm and steady as summer.

“It’s what you’re still carrying, sugar. What your body remembers, even when your mind tries to forget.”

She offered a sad chuckle, brushing soot from (Y/n)'s shoulder.

“It’s a weight you’ve been dragging for years—without even knowing it. But avoiding it doesn’t make it less real.”

Her tone turned gentle, but firm.

“You gotta face the music, darling, if you ever want to enjoy the show.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes, and the memory rushed in like a storm tide.

The flames. The crunch of twisted metal. The scream that wouldn’t come. Her mother—slumped against the wheel, a ribbon of blood trailing from her hairline. Smoke curling through the broken windshield. The radio—a staticky wail, interrupted by the sound of a car door being ripped open.

Blue eyes.

(Y/n) flinched, her hands trembling in her lap.

“I don’t want to remember this."

She whispered, broken and small, and Rebecca brushed her thumb over (Y/n)'s cheek sweetly as she said.

"I know that you don't, but you have to."

Suddenly, Rebecca's touch was no longer on her face, but the feeling of reinforced kevlar plastered itself over her face. (Y/n)'s eyes widened again, and her gaze shot down to see her Winter Soldier uniform. (Y/n) stated sadly after a moment, her body trembling and Rebecca's own eyes becoming sad.

"I hate this one...I hate wearing this...I don't want to be her anymore."

"I do too."

Her words invoked a sense of confusion over (Y/n), not understanding what the woman meant, and Rebecca murmured.

"It's not really you, is it?"

Rebecca made sure to take the mask off, and (Y/n) could feel the sensation of wind against her scars. Once the mask was completely off, (Y/n) began to cry. Rebecca cooed softly, holding (Y/n) to her closely while (Y/n) broke down completely from the realness of Rebecca's hug.

"Oh, sugar, don't cry. Don't you know that you already started making peace with it? I know you're trying to do the right thing, and you are. And you know what? It's okay to be afraid, baby doll."

Rebecca then murmured gently, running her fingers through (Y/n)'s hair.

"It wasn't ever really you anyway."

Suddenly, the Winter Soldier garb melted away like wet, black ink, and her skin began to shine within the sunlight. Despite the warmth of being in the sunlight and Rebecca's arms, (Y/n) became self-conscious, pulling away and wrapping her arms around herself as she stared down at the tanktop and spandex shorts she had worn while in Wakanda.

"This is you...choosing to do the right thing even when it's hard and it's scary. Things are about to get real tough, sugar, and it's gonna be a war in those trenches that you've been thrown in. However, you've got a lot of people that are cheering you on, including my idiot brother."

Suddenly, distant explosions sounded within the array of galaxies, making (Y/n) flinch, and Rebecca's expression slowly turned into a frown. Placing her hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders, Rebecca stated firmly.

"Listen to me, (Y/n). Don't you forget who it is that you're fighting for."

Rebecca's image shimmered slightly as (Y/n) began to feel extremely tired, and Rebecca's voice whispered before (Y/n) fell asleep.

"Remember the sunlight, darling. You're shining."

-WAKANDA-

Far from the cold reaches of the HYDRA facility in Geneva, Doctor Strange slowly opened his eyes. There was a bead of sweat that was pearling at his brow, a strand of his hair out of place, and his arms came down slowly; sore and almost numb. The orange glow that surrounded a projection sigil faded slowly, and Strange took a deep breath.

Holding a psychic tether across that much distance wasn’t the hard part—it was keeping the concentration, the flow, especially when anchoring to something steeped in that much pain. This kind of magic wasn’t about power. It was about endurance.

From beside him, Bucky was sitting on the edge of his seat, an urgent tone to his voice as he looked at Strange with almost pleading eyes.

"Is she alright?"

Strange glanced at Bucky, the lines around his eyes much deeper than normal as he replied.

"She stayed with it. That's more than I can say for most."

Bucky nodded, a thankful feeling running through him, and he watched as Strange stood from within the arcane circle he had put himself in. Shaking his head, Bucky murmured as Rebecca's image went through his mind.

"(Y/n) still trusts Rebecca."

Strange rubbed his hands together slightly before wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Well, Rebecca was the anchor...the outlier that (Y/n) latched onto the hardest before HYDRA. It makes sense that (Y/n) would be so attached to that part of her past. Besides, using Rebecca was your idea. Are you having second thoughts?"

Bucky shook his head, scratching the scruff on his cheek before he glanced at Strange.

"No, I'm not having second thoughts...just pointing it out."

Strange took a moment to observe Bucky before he pointed out.

"You could have gone in yourself, you know. (Y/n) trusts you too."

Bucky scoffed, looking off to the side and crossing his arms as he sat back in his chair.

"Yeah, and half the reason any of this happened to begin with."

Strange frowned before turning to face Bucky completely, the man regarding Strange with a curious but guarded look.

"She's not completely broken, you know. She's just fighting a war that you can't win for her. This-"

Strange gestured vaguely in front of him.

"-is all a part of the Absolute Point in her timeline. Whether anybody wanted it to happen or not, there is no point in trying to fight destiny."

Bucky stayed quiet, an expression crossing his face as if he wasn't sure about what to say next. He wasn't exactly sure what Strange meant by 'Absolute Point in her timeline,' but whatever it was, it sounded almost final. Strange watched as the man thought to himself before Strange crossed his arms.

"Why do you care so much?"

Bucky was surprised by the question, raising his brow as he looked at Strange.

"What do you mean?"

Strange pursed his lips, rolling his eyes before tilting his head slightly.

"Don't play coy with me, Barnes, you know exactly what I am asking you. Why do you care so much about (Y/n)? It's more than just guilt and a need to rectify what you did while as the Winter Soldier."

Bucky's heart began to subtly race, and he looked away from strange, muttering.

"I don't know."

"That's bullshit, and you're shit at bullshitting."

Bucky's jaw clenched, and he glared out the window, watching as the Wakandan sunset began to light the room in an array of warm, orange sunlight. Finally, Bucky murmured.

"Because I see her."

Strange instantly became intrigued, and he sat down across from Bucky, internally grateful to be off of his feet and allowing his body to rest from the strenuous work earlier. Bucky continued.

"I see her as the woman she was before HYDRA. Before the pain, the trauma, the horror. I see her as the girl that had a lot to give before it was taken away. I see her as the girl that liked to write and make up stories with Rebecca."

Bucky's voice cracked just the slightest, the man shifting uncomfortably within his seat under Strange's scrutinizing gaze.

"And I see the woman who is still trying to get back to that. I see the woman who is trying to make things right...even if she doesn't believe that she deserves it or doesn't think she can."

Bucky finally exhaled, the weight of the truth that had been buried deep within his ribs finally lifting.

"I care because I know what it's like to be stuck beneath that weight...to be forced to be something that you know, deep down, that you're not even if you don't remember why. And...I know what it means when someone chooses to see you through that anyway."

An image of Steve came through Bucky's mind, and Bucky swallowed thickly before looking at Strange.

"That's why I care. It's not just because I feel like I have to make up for what I did to her too...it's not just because I feel responsible."

Strange instantly began to understand, and his tone became unusually gentle as Strange pointed out.

"That's not guilt talking, Barnes."

Bucky didn't reply. Instead, he continued to stare out into the orange sunlight despite how much it was hurting to look into it. His heart was hammering within his chest, but Bucky stayed stone-faced and tense.

He didn't bother to deny it. Instead, Bucky allowed the words to float within the air as he admired the sunlight; feeling a newfound warmth coming over him as the orange light washed over him.

"I know."

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee!

STORY NOTES: The scene opens to (Y/n) in a cell within the secret underground HYDRA facility beneath the Coucillor's home. (Y/n) takes a moment to observe the cell that she is in, and she deduces that she must still be in the mansion, but she is not sure where. (Y/n) still has her communicator with the Avengers, and Bucky makes contact with (Y/n). He asks (Y/n) to talk to him, and she informs Bucky that she is in a cell and that Lukas made her 'do something horrible'. Bucky tells (Y/n) that he knows, and when he tries to tell her that they are going to get through this together, the two of them are interrupted by Lukas and some HYDRA agents coming to the cell.

(Y/n) immediately hides the communicator beneath a dirty blanket in the cell, and Lukas comes into the cell. He commands her to stand, and when (Y/n) hesitates, Lukas becomes angry. When (Y/n) finally stands, Lukas takes a moment to observe her before informing an unseen scientist that is outside of the cell that (Y/n) has been out of cryostasis for too long, but HYDRA has no time to lose due to the Conference being the next day.

(Y/n) finally notices the scientist after Lukas orders her to follow him, and the scientist makes Lukas pause. The scientist shines a light into (Y/n)'s eyes to log her reaction, and he suggests to Lukas that a complete reprogram would be best. He adds that there was no way to tell what the Avengers and Wakandans have done in reference to deprogramming (Y/n), and Lukas becomes smug. He reveals the scientist's name, which is Dr. Wilfred Nagel, and makes Nagel take a good look at (Y/n). Lukas reminds Nagel that the deprogramming was the point, which sets extreme alarm bells off within (Y/n), in which she wonders if Lukas knew that she wasn't truly still programmed.

Nagel relents, and he gives the go-ahead to proceed. While Lukas and Nagel escort (Y/n) to the lab, (Y/n) is surprised to see other cells within the hallways, though she can't tell if there are also other prisoners. When the group arrives to the lab, (Y/n) is filled with dread when she notices the Mind Chair. Despite telling herself to remember the sunlight, (Y/n) cannot stave off the panic that is coming over her as she is strapped into the chair. When her breathing begins to quicken, Lukas takes not of this and points out that she remembers. He goes on to say that fear was 'beautiful' because it means that the programming still has somewhere to go. Lukas further insults (Y/n) before Nagel announces to begin with basic reprogram first.

As the scientists begin to reprogram, Strange's preemptive measures kick in, and (Y/n) is thrown back into the mindscape. She is startled when she realizes that she is in her clothes from while she was with the CIA, and she takes a moment to orient herself. However, instead of Strange greeting her, (Y/n) is greeted by Rebecca Barnes. (Y/n) is shocked by her image, and Rebecca greets her. (Y/n) is stupefied, asking how it was possible for Rebecca to be in the mindscape, and Rebecca doesn't answer at first. When (Y/n) asks again, Rebecca tells her that she is here because (Y/n) needed her and because of Strange. Rebecca comments that (Y/n) looks as though she 'dived into a fire' and (Y/n) is horrified to see her clothes are burned and torn. The version of the clothes are from the moment of her capture after the car crash when Doris attempted to escape with (Y/n).

When (Y/n) questions this, Rebecca tells her that it was a representation of the weight that (Y/n) has been subconsciously carrying. She tells (Y/n) that avoiding it doesn't make the incident less real, and that (Y/n) needed to face it before she could fully enjoy her life. (Y/n) instantly remembers the moment, and when she remembers Bucky's eyes, (Y/n) states that she doesn't want to remember. Rebecca tells her that she understands, but (Y/n) has to. Suddenly, the clothes change into the Winter Soldier uniform, and (Y/n) tells Rebecca that she hates wearing the uniform. Rebecca agrees and tells (Y/n) that it wasn't really her anyway, and when Rebecca removes the mask from (Y/n) face, (Y/n) breaks down and begins to cry. Rebecca comforts her and tells her that she's doing the right thing and that it was okay to be afraid. She repeats that the Winter Soldier wasn't truly who she was, and the Winter Soldier uniform changes into the clothes that (Y/n) wore while at Wakanda.

Rebecca reassures (Y/n) that her being in Wakanda was her choosing to do the right thing even when it was hard and scary. Rebecca further tells (Y/n) that things are going to be tough, but she has 'a lot of people' cheering her on, including Bucky. Suddenly, the sound of explosions appear, indicating the Mind Chair being activated, and Rebecca's image slowly fades away. Before Rebecca disappears and (Y/n) falls asleep, Rebecca tells (Y/n) to remember the sunlight and that she was shining. The scene then changes to Strange and Bucky. Strange is tired out from upholding the tether and projecting Rebecca's image, and Bucky asks if (Y/n) was alright. Strange confirms this, and Bucky points out that (Y/n) still trusts Rebecca. Strange points out that (Y/n) had a reason to due to Rebecca being a monumental part of (Y/n)'s past, and further points out that it was Bucky's idea to project Rebecca. Strange asks Bucky if he was having second thoughts, and Bucky denies this. Strange states that Bucky could have been the one to help (Y/n), but Bucky refuses this, showcasing his continuous guilt for the past.

Strange tells Bucky that (Y/n) isn't completely broken, and that she is fighting a war that Bucky can't win for her in reference to (Y/n)'s healing journey. Strange then points out that (Y/n) coming to Wakanda and then being sent back to HYDRA was an Absolute Point in her timeline, and though Bucky is confused by this, he doesn't ask for clarification. Strange asks Bucky why he cares so much about (Y/n), and Bucky tells Strange that he 'sees' her. He says that he sees the woman she was and who she is trying to be. Bucky further states that he cares because he knows how hard it is to be 'stuck beneath that weight' and how important it is to have someone 'see you' through it anyway. Strange points out to Bucky that it wasn't just because of his guilt that he is saying all of this, and Bucky relents, telling Strange that he knows. End Scene.

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wannabepoeticischiya · 8 months ago

Text

if I can stop one heart from breaking

[ 07 ] — the promise

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He existed in the morning dew, in the afternoon haze, within the illusions of twilight. He was there. In the silence of midnight, in the wake of dawn... he was there.

Hoshina Soushiro was everywhere... except right here. He existed in every corner of the cosmos-just not in the space beside her.

Rivers of sunlight streamed through the windows, painting everything in the room an ardent white. Waves of flowing curtains waltzed to the tune hummed by the winter zephyr. Clouds drifted in the rivers of the ether, floating aimlessly before disappearing into the horizon.

Muffled footfalls echoed within the empty halls, trotting softly before coming to a halt.

Soushiro took a deep breath, letting the tension leave his body. He leaned against the threshold, careful not to tilt what he held, and slid the door open with his foot as soundlessly as he could.

If he was to be honest, the swordsman never thought he’d see the day he’d be itching to suppress every little noise. Growing up, Soushiro was a rambunctious child—and he still was—albeit a lot more tamed than then.

A free spirit, or so he would claim but in truth, it was just nicer to hear than ‘out of control’.

No place was hushed to a fault if he was there. His demons and angels joined forces to ensure that there would be no room for the stillness to settle, choosing to fill the void with deafening laughter, animated chatter, or even vexing teasing—anything so long as the vortex of doubt stayed far away as possible.

He was so certain that it would never change—and even now, he was sure he’d remain that way.

But here, where she lies awake in the world of her dreams… the voices in his head spoke in the love of silence.

Her figure lay covered by oceans of white, her breaths coming in long, patterned rises and falls. Threads of [h/c] pooled in the basin of her pillow, strings aglow with sunlight.

Soushiro treaded in caution, afraid she’ll suddenly wake. A pleasing scent of pastry danced in the air. Hurriedly, he turned the corner of her bed to set the tray down by her desk, the same one that was far too small to fit them both, and swatted away the air like it’ll rid of the aroma that already flooded the room.

[Name] turned in her sleep, as though her unconscious state knew that he was standing there—a breath away—no matter the mindfulness he spilled into his movements. Still, her eyes remained shut, choosing to remain in the cradles of slumber.

And Soushiro could do nothing but stare—frozen in place at the sight of her. Because how could it be true?

That at this moment, he was hers to keep, as much as she was his.

She looks like a princess. And he reckons he’d think so even at the ends of the universe, of time—of infinity. Because there was none like her in all the worlds. Even now, as the sun itself was fortunate enough to fall on her body, there was no inked mirror… for what miracle could ever be great enough to replicate her beauty.

Soushiro draws closer, slowly, like any signs of haste would chase her away. He kneels, chin resting on the planes of her covers as he raises a hand to hover over the hills of her cheeks, enough to graze her warmth but never sufficient to bask in it, as the other tangled in the roots of her silken hair.

Here, as she’s showered in the waters of daylight, shifting in the blankets he put her under, breathing softly—not a care for the world… he whispers.

“I’m in love with you.”

Soushiro was sure of it. And he vows that even if the souls of the living and the dead were to turn and raise arms against them, he would never revoke his words. Because if there was a place between heaven and heaven, [Name] is what he’s sure was in everything in between. He would choose eternal damnation over a life devoid of her—live a life where she did not know that his soul loved her so.

It dawns on him then, that he has never told her these words. His most fervent daydreams held the image of her, every waking thought, in all his breaths, there existed a piece of her. She was in everything he saw: visions by the sidewalk, fragments of the future, hopes manifesting into his reality. To him, she was the embodiment of love… everything that could have saved him and all that will.

Yet, Soushiro had never once told [Name] that he loves her.

Her nose scrunched in discomfort from the beaming sun rays. Quick to act, the swordsman moved from his position, shielding her face from the light. He secretly hoped she’d drift once more into the rivers of sleep just so he’d have a few more seconds to carve the image of her in his soul. A few more moments to think about the things he was too afraid to say.

[Name]’s eyes fluttered open, a small smile adorning her face swallowed by a yawn. And she turned to gaze at him, most sure that he existed in this space, only to be met by the vivid daylight; empty was the space beside her.

Panic swirled in her veins, where could her lover have gone? Because she was certain that just a moment ago, he was here. In a flicker of haze, his shadow painted over her. A heartbeat passed, and his caress flared. Did her mind conjure his image simply because she had dreamt of him? That she missed him so? Was his loving touch nothing but an illusion cast by the alchemists in her mind?

[Name] hopes that he wasn’t.

Her heart hummed a melody of melancholy, unsure of it all.

What grief would overcome her should he cease to be part of her waking moments? She’d choose his bothersome teasing, the roars of his laughter, rambles of his passion. Anything. So long as he does not treat her as a stranger.

A rhythmic clatter rang from the side of the room—footsteps thudded against the floors, unrestrained by the fear of her waking. [Name] caught a glimpse of violet, the same hue as the man from her dreams—from her memories. Familiar rings of calculated footsteps magnetized her lips upwards, a smile blossoming on the gardens of her face.

You’re here, she thought, raising a hand to touch him—to see if he was really there. When Soushiro leaned into her warmth, the earnest longing bubbling in the cauldrons of her stomach had eased, sparking to a flame that burned with contentment.

Weight rested on one side of her bed, both from Soushiro and the tray he set down: covered in plates of tarts and macaroons, and one for a tower of waffles drizzled in syrup. A glass of milk was on the side, accompanied by a bundle of roses. Red as the eyes of the one who gave them. Tender as the heart that beseeched their presence.

“Happy Birthday.”

Soushiro takes off his coat along with his scarf, revealing his black knitted turtleneck and trousers. He had hurried to arrange his gift the second he got everything he needed, rushing from the kitchen to her room, completely forgetting that he needed to take off the extra layers of clothing.

[Name] might just cry at the sight of him: pupils dilated to the brim, violet strands sticking from every which way, redness dusting the hills of his cheeks. What time of the morn did he wake? To have gotten here at seven in the morning and not look the least bit out of breath—disheveled, yes. Worn out? Oh, heavens he was far from that.

Silver brimmed the horizons of her eyes, crybaby, she would think. A behavior such as that is unfit for a lady. Yet, a part of her mind prompted her to think otherwise. If the erratic thrums of her heart were any help, [Name] could almost see that her eyes held just as much adoration for him as he did with her. If only her vision did not explode like a supernova at the sight of him, she would see that his collided into a million colors when he looked at her.

[Name] soared in the skies of his love—unladed by anyone’s expectations. Soushiro’s heart did not ask for anything but for her peace, for [Name] to be okay.

How could she not cry when he loves her so?

“What’s wrong, my love?” He whispered, leaning down to wipe the tears that streaked the canvas of her face.

“Nothing.” She would reply, her small hands resting on his. “I just—I love you so much, that’s all.”

Once more, her sentiments blanketed his; enough for the two of them so it seemed. The words lodged in his throat; I love you more—he wanted to speak. But the feel of her tender gaze and her warm embrace would not allow him to.

[Name] had said it already, and it was enough. For now… it is enough.

He breathed in her scent, a silent acknowledgement of her words. “Don’t cry,” he chuckled, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” Soushiro’s words were nothing less than the truth. When he arrived at her room earlier, taking a peek when the blue hour was simmering to welcome the rise of the sun, her figure still lay motionless on the bed. He wanted to ask her to walk around the bay, watch the sunrise if she would… but the gentle breaths that slipped past her nose made him reconsider.

[Name] shifts, adjusting to rise to a sitting position to mirror the man before her.

“I went to your favorite bakery.” He beamed, gesturing to the plates of pastries on the tray laid on her bed. “Do you go there often?” he asked, raising a tart to her lips.

[Name] nods as she took a bite.

“Figures.” He mused, eating the rest of the pastry he had just offered her.

The woman stared at him, dumbstruck. A familiar fiery sensation threatening to set her skin alight. That tart was just in her mouth—

“They knew you by name there, you know.” Soushiro dusted the crumbs from his fingers, nonchalantly like he hadn’t just performed indirect kissing by his one seemingly harmless action.

“Oh, you mean that beautiful princess who lives down the street?” His poor attempt at mimicking the tone of the nice elderly lady almost roused laughter from her—almost. If only it wasn’t for his infuriating teasing that is.

“That is an exaggeration. A lie.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Hmm, no it’s not.” Soushiro looked at her again, this time a macaroon held between his fingers. “A princess does live here,” he grinned deviously, unfiltered adoration seeping through his narrow eyes and deliberate dallying.

“Aren’t I right, my princess [Name]~”

[Name]’s face erupted into a thousand shades of red. To think she would be subject to his—his… flirtatious advances so early in the morning!

His laughter echoed within the four corners of her room, pouring gasoline to her chagrin. [Name] swiped the small pink cake from his hold, taking a harsh bite out of it. I’ll get you back for this!

She looked away from him out of pettiness. Sure, it felt like a scummy thing to do—childish, even—but there was no besting Soushiro when it came to aggravating others. The most she could do was ignore his taunts and hope he'll take the hint and cease his ventures.

“Aww, but it’s true!” Soushiro cranes his head and leans his body to try and catch her gaze, careful not to knock over the food.

When she doesn’t turn, he sighs fondly and reaches to cradle the side of her face, tilting it softly so she can face his direction at least.

He swore he could have died at that moment. She is so adorable. [Name]’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, looking away from him as he expected, but in the place where he sought a scowl was an angry pout. Her eyebrows were drawn to one another, forming lines to paint her usually placid expression.

Soushiro’s heart swelled with adoration. His hand that once held one side of her head trailed upwards to smooth out her hair. “You are a princess, my love.” He leaned closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.

[Name] wove her arms around his frame, relishing in the comfort he gave. She could never stay vexed at him. Soushiro had so much more to offer than teasing remarks (thank the heavens).

“I have something else for you,” he mumbles, his lips grazing over the lobes of her ear.

Soushiro patted down the space behind him, wanting to reach what he had in surprise yet not wanting to let go of the woman in his arms.

“You can let go; you know.”

“No, it’s right here, I think.” He replies, still blindly searching for whatever it is that he has in mind.

[Name] peeked over his shoulders. There was nothing but waves of bedsheets in the spaces where his arm could reach. The nearest thing was his coat which was draped over the footboard, and Soushiro wasn’t going to get to that if he kept clinging to her.

“Aha! Here they are.”

Soushiro wedged something in the space between them: a bundle of red flowers. Roses, her mind reminded. Oh, but how could she ever forget?

“I went to this flower store, too.” He took her hand in his, prying her fingers open one by one to curl around the covered stem of the bouquet. “You’re really famous here, aren’t ‘cha?”

[Name] laughed at his discovery, shifting under the blankets she now realizes he must have put her under.

She was indeed, but it wasn’t for the reasons Soushiro would think it was. [Name] did not show magnanimous behavior to the townspeople, and her simple gestures weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

[Name] went to that bakery to buy bread, just like any other customer would. She didn’t even spend more than ten minutes there when she visited. But somehow, albeit unknowingly, she always made sure to bow to the old lady walking around and restocking the shelves, thanking her for her hard work.

It was the same with the flowers. [Name] would greet the little kid whose hair was the shade of snow; eyes colored the same violet as the hair of her lover. His apathetic front gradually fading with every smile she’d sent his way.

“I would have never guessed you’d went there,” Soushiro looks at the flowers in her hand, and [Name] pieced his words together, “every birthday.”

But it wasn’t just birthdays. She was there for every beginning of spring and at the end of it. In Summer breaks. After Autumn’s rain. In the bustle of the Winter holidays. [Name]’s visits were scattered in occasions that were swarmed with multiple faces. And every time, unfailingly, she’d ask for roses. She wanted the flower she’d seen countless times, held by different people, all for different reasons. She adored the flower that was favored by everybody. She loved the flower she had never once received.

“When I was my own Valentine, I celebrated it like that, too.” She smiled, tearing her gaze from the roses to look at him instead. “With roses and cakes down the street.”

Until now…

Her laugh echoed in his soul, the same one that fed on deafening volume stilled to a fault when her symphonies rang through his being. I love you. My heart is so full of you that I can’t even call it my own. How much luck did he stack upon one another to have come so close to heaven? It must have been a great deal because why else would heaven look a lot like her?

“But now, I have you.” She whispered as she pressed her forehead against his. Closing her eyes and relishing the comfort of his presence.

“I guess all the setbacks were for something.” He laughs as his hands caged her cheeks, trapping their warmth underneath his palms; every bit for him to take.

“You have me,” Soushiro could feel himself drawing closer—close enough that a breath would set his lips on fire with hers, “And I have you.”

How’s that for luck?

Soushiro’s touch lingered, unsure if it was right to tread that path so lightly. Despite the growing need for change—the desire to claim her lips as his own, he remained true to his beliefs: that he would wait until she would permit him so. Because [Name] deserved that, greater than anything he could possibly give her, she deserved his patience.

He could wait a thousand more years if she told him to. Seize every star in the sky if it makes her happy. Soushiro would move the universe for her, and she will only ever need to ask.

Because here, as he’s surrendered in the loving softness of her arms, his feelings rang truer than ever. I love you, he echoed, feeling his hold tighten—fearful of letting go. I love you so much and you probably don’t even know.

“—Hiro?”

So, tell her, he would think, still, he remained hiding behind this invisible wall. His hand yearning to hold the person standing on the other side. How could I dream of you and be afraid of your rejection? Of your denial…

“Soushiro?” [Name] broke free from his hold, one hand holding onto his own, twining his fingers with her own as the other rested on his cheek, thumb grazing the plains under his eye.

The swordsman felt his world plummet into frost like the winter was only his to feel. The sun had gone and drowned him in a place brimmed with darkness. Warmth ceased to exist.

It was a life devoid of her, so it seemed.

I can’t change the past… even if I wish that I could. I’d pitch in a request too, you know. To have us meet a lot earlier.

During once upon a time, every second of his waking moment felt like he kindled with the purpose to one day be forgotten—left wandering in darkness.

Even now, it never feels enough, like this image of you will last me a thousand breaths before I will long to see it again.

But flares ignited the damnation away, casting over him in halos of fire, gravitating around his orbit in rings of warmth.

Still, when I look at you—everything, all the little things fall into place. And suddenly, it doesn’t matter. Not the world, or the Kaiju… it’s just you.

All this time, Soushiro thought he was burning to oblivion but now, it just feels like he’s burning so he could see. To light a path that will lead him to her, to the pieces of his dreams. If I can have you—if you will have me… I’ll be set to go.

“Thank you, [Name].” Soushiro leans into her touch, covering her hand with his trying to pull hers closer.

“I should be the one saying that” she sighs, stroking his face lovingly.

No, because you are everything to be thankful for. How do you bear the weight of being everything to me… to anyone? You are the skies, an endless blue with a love so vast. Daylight shadows you, embedded itself into your soul as though you are one and the same. A vacation for everyone around but you’re the home I will always come back to, the home I will always yearn to be.

Soushiro shook his head, the curtains of his hair rising to give way for crimson irises to stare at the woman he had loved desperately. He wanted to deny her claims, [Name] had nothing to thank him for, or so he wanted to believe.

[Name] thought otherwise. Soushiro liked to think that every bit of his sacrifice would never be enough to be thanked for, that it was something to brush under the carpet. He grew to be faithful to the idea that his efforts were void if he could not see results… but that was not true. To [Name], everything he did was to be grateful for. And she thought, at some point, that no words could ever be enough to bring her gratitude to life.

Because how could you even begin to thank someone who gave you a reason to believe?

She craned her neck to meet his downcast gaze, eager to sever his views, yet when Soushiro did not raise his head to meet her stare, a different scheme flowered in her head.

I’ll give you a reason to look.

[Name] shifted in her seat, placing both her palms on the mountains of broad shoulders, hoisting herself up. But the force of her sudden weight caught him off guard, which along with being snapped out of his daydreams, had him toppling under her pressure.

Soushiro’s back met the soft covers, a curtain of hair shielding his face from the world. [Name]’s hands were on either side of his head, and even without the little grazes of daylight, he could see that her face would put the color of his eyes to shame. Her pupils were dilated to the brim, lips trembling from sheer embarrassment.

“Well, take me on a date first princess~” as the pads of his fingers touched her cheek, [Name] was shocked out of her own daze, jumping to get as far away from him as possible only to have her head collide against the wall.

“[Name]!” He called in alarm, getting up so fast that his vision spun, merging everything in colors until they narrowed to a single point. Still, it did not have him deter in his need to make sure she was alright.

Soushiro replaced her hand with his own, rubbing soothing circles over the area.

“This is all your fault.” She whimpered, hitting his chest with her now unoccupied hand.

“Yes, it’s all my fault.” He agreed, circling an arm over her shoulders, and pulling her close. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? How many fingers am I holding?”

“How are you gonna do that when you’re hugging me, idiot.” [Name]’s fingers pulled at his clothes, her cries turning to soft sniffling.

The swordsman laughed, caressing the threads of her hair.

“I just wanted to do something for you, too.” [Name] admitted, the hums of his heartbeat lulling hers to match its rhythm.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” [Name] wriggled free from his hold. Soushiro let her do as she pleases, yet he took a hand for his to hold.

“I love you too, you know. So, I want to do things that would make you happy as well. Like what I’d get you for your birthday—” She stopped, tearing her gaze from their tangled hands to look at him gingerly. He knew hers… so, why didn’t she know his?

“What about you, when’s your birthday?”

Soushiro had the audacity to ponder over his answer like it was something that he had trouble recalling. “Hmm…” he placed a hand under his chin, fingers forming a checkmark shape, and pretended to think.

When he saw that [Name] wasn’t having any of it, he yielded and blurted out the truth. “On the twenty-first of November. It’s—”

She rushes to open one of her drawers, pulling out a white flipbook—a calendar.

“It’s already passed.” She mumbles, shoulders slumping in defeat at his revelation.

“Well, I didn’t get to tell you because you already left back then…”

[Name] was swarmed with guilt at the reminder. She left in the middle of the month due to some urgent matters. At that time, the idea of celebrating birthdays was a thought that would have never crossed her mind—much less wonder if Soushiro’s birthday was occurring the following week.

“Then we’ll celebrate it next year for sure!” She promised, grinning at him so fervently that it made it difficult for doubt to seep in.

At her declaration, Soushiro’s own uncertainty dulled. Because how could he not see the mirror of his adoration when she served it to him in affectionate gazes and warm smiles and willingness to sacrifice? When she gave him the hope of a tomorrow where he could live with her to live in dreams like birthdays, how could he find the heart to refuse?

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

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#chiya's head rent 🎐#kaiju no.8 #ao3 #kaiju 8 #kn8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soushirou #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro

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elliebean714 · 6 months ago

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Haiiii :)))

Soo how about a Chris x Male reader (During game) Where one of them saw either their, or the other's death on one of the totems and how it would play out. Maybe said person trying to keep it a secret and it it backfires or smth. Have a nice day and drink lots of water. Love you /p <333

- 🍄 (Your favorite anon)

ACKK YOU GENIUS I LOVE YOU. 🍄 anon. I swear. Your mind and my mind are just ✨️magic✨️ I can't believe there was a time in my life before i had you, my beloved. To switch it up and experiment some more I decided to make this one from Chris' perspective cus that seems fun to me. This can be read as chris' part of the other fic or as a standalone, but I kinda reference some stuff that happened in the last one, so ill link it if you want to read that. This does divulge and go in its own direction though, i just sorta use the previous ask as a reference so i dont have to repeat things that happened in it. Im gonna tie up a plot line I didn't in your previous ask in this. This was very planned and I definitely did not forgor about that plot line until I had already posted it. I am smart and this was all on purpose (imsosorryjoshieiknowyourenotlikethis) (this is low-key climbing class angst too lmao. Gotta love my boys <3) I'm realising now that im not really good at following instructions, I get an idea in my head and go WILD. I kinda forget what people requested lol. I sometimes forget how much trauma Chris went through but GOD DAMN, MY BOYYYY </3 *Devastated cat* Angry Chris in ch7 is SO GOOD OMG, love him. Not trying to brag, but angry chris??? I ATE THAT.

Premonitions

Chris Hartley x M!Reader

Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Previous Request

During Game

Chapter 2

When I was left alone in the lodge with only Josh's lighter to guide me, I began snooping through the room I had found myself in, the garage, or maybe storage?Just as I was getting started a small wooden statue caught my attention. It was lying on the floor and was unlike anything I'd seen any of the Washingtons own. Curious, i picked it up for closer examination.

There was a carved and painted birds face staring back at me, freaky. I turned it over, not expecting much to be on the other side, I mean obviously all of the artistic talent went into the front. There's a small opening near the top of the statue, like an infinity symbol with straight lines outlined with brown paint. The inside appeared hollow. At least until I saw his face.

He was screaming, blood was flying, so much blood... and then there was a saw slashing through the adorable outfit he swore would keep him warm earlier today. Then I was whiped back to the lodge.

...

How... the hell am I to keep on looking for a stupid can of deodorant after watching my boyfriend get sawn in half? I need to see him, make sure he's okay. "Y/N? Can you come here please?"

"Uhh... why what's up?" He calls back, but I still hear those winter boots I made him wear crunching through the snow.

"I just want to talk to you." I answered. His frame entering my limited view.

"And why do you want to talk to me here instead of inside, adventurer?" He asks as he climbs on top of the stool I used to get inside. As his face appears at the window, I climb on the counter and meet his gaze, his gorgeous eyes.

"I just..." I trail off before admiting what I saw, would he even believe me? I probably just imagined it anyway, no reason to panic him right? I look down and sigh, "I just missed you." I 'lied'.

"And you couldn't wait to get us warm first?" He smiled. I have to protect that smile.

"No. I love you."

"Love you too. But I'm freezing my ass off so I'd love it if you could get the door open."

I dropped my head and sighed, "Yeah, I know. I'll go get it." He pulls my face towards him and kisses me gently.

"I love you"

"I love you too."

Later, we're in the basement together, looking for a 'spirit board' and I haven't let him out of my sight since I saw that, vision. I can't let anything happen to him, I can't tell him either. I'm freaking out enough for the two of us anyway. I don't want him to panic all weekend. Especially if it turns out to be nothing,

I get distracted looking at a box of old horror costumes from one of Josh's dads old movies, there's long, black robes, weird masks, bottles of fake blood... I sqeeze the bottle, letting a droplet of the red liquid run down my pointer finger, lost in thought. His cute face, that cute face I've loved for years... the fear, the pain in his eyes... his scream-

"Found it!" I turn to see his proudly presenting the spirit board.

"Great, lets-" The basement door opens and we hear Sam and Josh chatting and making their way to the boiler. I shake the violent image from my head, wipe the blood off my finger, and paint on a happy face, "Let's scare them."

Chapter 3

Candlelight illuminates the room while Y/N explains the rules of the board. I laugh at what I assume was a joke, fuck- I'm trying so hard to pay attention. It was nothing. Nothing is going to happen to him, focus.

Josh sits opposite me, clearly the most... excited(?) To start, Ashley and Y/N are beside me, I pick up his hand and rub my thumb over it. If I can feel him, I know he's there. We each put one finger on the pointer, ready to begin.

"Is anyone there?" Ashley asks, half sincere, half skeptical. The pointer answers, first slowly moving in random directions then spelling 'H E L P'.

"Okay, who's moving it?" Y/N laughs

"Woah-" I gasp uncomfortably.

"How can we help you?"

It moves fast "W A R N I N G."

"Shit-" Josh comments... Seeing him creeped out is so weird.

"Ask who it is, maybe?" I suggest, trying to be engaged.

But she ignores me "what are you warning us about?"

"S I S T E R"

"Who's sister?" Josh asks, he seems panicked now.

"You're warning us about your sister?" Y/N asks the board at the same time

I look at Josh, I don't want to say it, but... "Josh, it's gotta be-"

And he looks at me, almost calmed by the brief moment "well, which sister is it then?"

"Beth...? Is that you?" Ashley questions with a nervous voice, Y/N seems to stir at the name a little, he was always closer to her. The pointer moves to 'yes'.

"Oh god-" Ashley trembles

"This is so messed up" a nervous laugh escapes him

I see panic in my best friends eyes, "Josh? Are you-"

"I'm fine" He interrupts me gently

"We can stop if-" Y/N suggests

"No. I wanna hear what it says." He interrupts Y/N far more harshly, I assume its just anxiety. When Ashley expresses hesitation, Y/N reminds her that we could discover the truth of their deaths.

"What happened to you?"

"H A N N A H K I L L E D"

"Hannah killed her??" I hear Y/N whisper under his breath

"No, no, I think, I think she means someone killed Hannah" I correct him

"Beth, who killed Hannah?"

"L I B R-"

"Library?"

"P R O-"

"Proof? There's proof?"

"In the library?" As soon as the question leaves Y/N's lips, the table shakes and the pointer flies off between Josh and Ashley. She stands up, in shock and horror, clearly freaking out, while Josh just stares ahead for a few seconds.

"This isn't real..." He rises from his seat, still staring "I dont- I don't know if you think messing with me is going to somehow help me deal with my grief or whatever, but this is not cool." He states, shakily but firmly.

"Josh, no, we didn't- you wanted to use the spi-" Y/N tries to assure him, but Josh cuts him off, did Y/N do something to upset him? He's been kinda pissed at Y/N since we got here.

"Shut up, you guys are full of it!" He storms off down the stairs.

After he's gone, Ashley scolds us "that wasn't funny, guys. I can't believe you did that."

"What? We didn't do anything!" I try to defend us, "Just because we're goofy, doesn't mean we'd do that!" But my protests fall on deaf ears as she waves me off.

"Stop. Just stop." She heads down the stairs after Josh, I look over at Y/N. He looks so embarrassed and upset, he hates hurting people... my sweetheart.

"Hey," I hold his hands "it's okay, babe, we didn't do anything wrong."

He slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine, god I love that colour... "I didn't know- that was crazy- I didn't think it would work!"

"Me neither. I can't- jeez..." I take a shaky breath

"Should we go after him?" Y/N asks nervously "I don't want him to think we were trying to hurt him..."

"No," I shake my head "No, I dont think he really wants to see us right now" You, mostly. "We should check the library. See if what it was saying is true."

We head towards the library, hand in hand. Once we reach the bookshelf, several books fly off the shelf, a lot of them almost hit Y/N. A button is left in their place, I push it and the wall opens, revealing a secret room, it's practically empty aside from a random picture laying on the table.

A photo of the twins, Hannah has her tattoo, so it must've been taken a couple months before the disappearance. Or, murder... on the other side, a fucking note written in blood. A clear death threat to the girls- a sick one. I show Y/N and we agree to tell Josh. I lead him down the hallway, when we hear Josh and Ashley scream. Y/N rushes towards the door, and an arm pulls him through. I pound on the door in an attempt to break it down. After a short time, it finally opens, i see ashley and Y/N laying on the floor unconscious, a guy in a creepy mask punches me-

Chapter 4

Shit- my head is spinning. What the hell happ- shit, Y/N! I stand up quickly, making my dizziness worse, and look around frantically, Ashley is still on the floor, slowly coming back to consciousness, but Y/N and Josh are missing- fuck!

"Chris...?" Ashley whimpers, I grab the flashlight on the counter before helping her stand.

"Hey, are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" She seems okay, from what I can see, but creepy guy and helpless girl are never a good equation.

"N-no, I don't think so..." Ashley looks herself over "I was looking for Josh, I saw him coming through this way, I heard him scream, then some guy knocked me out and..." She trails off "thats all I remember, Where is he? Where's Y/N?"

I shake my head "No idea, we gotta find them, that guy, could've hurt them."

We find our way out of the room and see a splatter of blood on the wall "Oh jeez" Ashley gasps. We aprehensively continue, out of the lodge and towards the shed, calling out for Y/N and Josh. Everytime I blink, I'm reminded of that vision- it's not real, it's not real, it's not real...

"Chris! Chris, help, we're in here, please-" I hear him sob in response when I shout his name for the hundredth time.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through me "Y/N? Sweetheart, don't be scared, I'm coming." I hurry towards his voice, Ashley trails after, less enthused, poor girl is so exhausted.

The rest of the room is separated behind a plane of glass, a lever in the middle, and a door on the side. As soon as I approach the glass the lights in the room turn on, revealing Y/N and Josh tied up.

"What the hell??" Ashley gasps, Y/N and Josh start to properly panic when, presumably the guy who just attacked us starts talking over the intercom- shit- the saw- nonononnonono- FUCK-

It's that fucking saw- it tore through my baby- fuck- no- no- I cant- I cant- "and which one will die" i- I have to pick??? No, I cant- I can't have to do this- no, not these two- no-

I look for Ashley, but she's run off, I don't blame her, Josh starts pleading with me "Chris, buddy, please, you don't have to-"

And Y/N sobs too "Oh- Fuck- Chris, help me..."

Dontmakemechoosedontmakemechoosedontmakemechoosedontmakemechoose-

"I'm so-" guilt, anguish and anger fill me "so sorry, Josh-" my voice cracks. I turn the lever towards Josh's face- imsosorryimsosorryimsosorry-

The silence that follows could kill. Just a spinning sawblade and my favourite persons terrified sobs in the other room. I stare at the photo of him, my best friend... that guy- i- fucking killed him.

"Chris...? Help- please..." Y/N whimpers. Remember who it was for, Chris. He needs to survive. No matter what.

Chapter 6

I've still not dropped his hand. It's still replaying in my head, Y/N, Josh, the saw, that fucking guy. After, Ashley found Matt and Emily, and they all left to get help. I dont- I can barely think. But- Y/N and me are looking for Sam, I know that, and I'm holding his hand, nothing could make me let go.

"Hey, Chris?" His voice is shaky, but full of gratitude "I know- I know how horrible that was- what that guy did, what you had to do..." his fingers reach out and graze my cheek.

"Please- I don't want to-" don't cry- keep it together "I'm fine, dont-" Y/N steps closer, he lifts my cheek, dontcrydontcrypleasedontmakemecry...

"I'm sorry," we lock eyes "He was your best friend- you guys- shit- I'm so sorry" dontcrydontcrydont- "I love you. I love you so much"

"Please-" I fight the tears- dontcry "i-we- Sam doesn't have time. We need to hurry."

"Don't suppress your feelings, Chris, your best friend just died-" he's trying, he's such a good person, I love him so much.

"I'll cry about it once you're safe, okay!?" My voice comes out far more harshly than I ever intended. "I'm sorry- imsorry, imsorry-" I repeat, backing off "I cant- I can't be weak right now- I need to be strong until this is over then..." He pulls me into a hug, fuck- it feels so nice to be close to him- he's so warm, so alive, so full of colour...

The lunatic got us again. This is what we get for trying to help Sam. We followed the trail down under the lodge, found so much weird shit, then eventually saw her passed out, tied to a chair and when we tried to help...

Now, there's a gun on the table, and I've got one free arm- if this fucker makes me do what I think he's going to... "Y/N? Sweetheart, wake up." I coax him gently, the lights turn on, there's saws above us.

"Chris...?" He mumbles, "where- where are we?"

"I dont- what the hell happened?!" I notice his black eye, I'm gonna kill that guy, I swear to god.

"I punched him after he got you," he cries, god- I hate that sound. He should never have to cry "I think he hit me?"

My eyes flare in anger "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna murder his fucking face off."

"Hello again, my special little subjects." His distorted voice comes over the intercom, the saws start spinning, I lift the gun and shoot at them, desperate to make them stop, nothing happens. He continues speaking and confirms my fears. Either shoot myself or Y/N.

I bring the gun to my neck, just beneath my jaw. "No! Don't you fucking dare!" Y/N screams, thrashing and pulling against the restraints "Chris, stop- I can't- don't make me"

"I love you. You be smart, be safe, be brave. Please, I need you to make it out alive, baby." I'm confident, I'm assured. There's no hesitation in my voice, just regret. I thought we could grow up together, go to the same college, find a nice apartment, good jobs, married- I wanted to live that dream life with him. I thought we would... "I love you so fucking much. Just close your eyes. Just close your eyes- and make it off this fucking mountain. You're strong, you can do it. Please- survive."

"Fuck this- no! Chris, dont- don't make me live without you- it's not worth it-" he sobs.

"I love you-"

Chapter 7

I'm alive? My neck hurts like hell, I know the gun went off. My eyes open, Y/N sobs desperately, his eyes shut tight- like he's trying to disappear, my baby... I look around "What the fuck??"

He appears... SHIT- I lift the gun and shoot him several times, but still nothing happens... instead the freak laughs- he fucking laughs at me, he starts taunting me. "You've heard of blanks before? I mean really?" He takes the mask o- Josh?!?

Sam and Mike come from a door behind us, equally shocked- he's still fucking laughing- they release our wrists from the restraints while Josh explains his plan. I killed him... he made me saw him in half- worse than that, if that vision was right? He would've killed Y/N too.

Me, Mike and Y/N are taking him to the shed. Sam didn't want to come, the sick fuck chased her around while she was in just a towel! Mike is the angriest, rightfully so, josh killed Jessica. He's fucking crazy! And still acting like it's all a joke.

On the walk, I notice Y/N is trailing behind, clearly something is puzzling him. I take his hand "What's up, babe?"

"I just..." He thinks for a moment "remember that weird dollhouse in the basement? The doll meant to look like me was in the bedroom, but I was in the kitchen that night"

"...so?"

"So if he was doing this as revenge for what happened to the twins, if he's seen the video, he'd know that! He'd know I wasn't a part of it, so why the hell was the doll upstairs? Why put me in that saw trap? Why us? You didn't do anything either!" He explains his conundrum.

"Yeah, that is weird, plus if he's saying he didn't mean to hurt anybody, why the hell did I see-" I stop myself, I still don't know what I saw, and whatever it was, I'm best asking josh about it rather than bother Y/N with my delusion. "Why the hell did I see him get sawn in half? Or- or have to shoot myself in the neck?"

"And killing Jessica, and basically sexually assaulting Sam." He adds before we catch up to Mike and Josh, the former is trying to tie the latter to a piller.

"Oh, finally can you two hold him, please?" Mike asks as soon as he sees us. Y/N holds down Josh's right side, I take the left while Mike quickly ties him up. I can feel Josh's eyes peering into me. It's not an angry gaze, it's... sad? Betrayed? He seems hurt, but that obviously can't make sense, did he expect me to kill the love of my life? Did he want me to??

Josh rambles incoherently while the rest of us talk, trying to figure out any way to make this make sense, "Chris?" Josh interrupts Y/N while he talks "Chris!"

"What?" I relent.

"Can we talk alone, please? I don't trust them like I do you." He has the balls to say something like that after what he did? I turn to the other two...

"Sure, yeah. We'll wait outside." Mike nods before I even say anything "c'mon, Y/N. He can't do anything, he's tied up." Y/N kisses me before following Mike out of the shed

"Now what, Josh?" I look to him, expecting some sort of explanation that'll put everything into place and make it all make sense.

"I missed you. You know that?" He seems partly lucid when he says that.

"Yeah? And a text wasn't enough?"

"No. Nonono. I missed you. He stoleyou."

"Y/N? He's my boyfriend, he didn't steal me-"

"YES HE DID. You're supposed to be myyy best friend and you abandoned me for him?? Really??"

"No! What the hell? We were still friends Josh. It's not like I started dating him and then all of a sudden I just dropped you, we still hung out!"

He shakes his head "that's not true. Thatsnot true. That's nottrue. ThatsNOTTRUE"

I sigh, this isn't going anywhere. I need to ask him about what I saw. Was he actually going to kill him? "Josh, the saw..."

"I wanted to test you. To see if you even fucking cared. You let me die so fucking FAST!" Josh starts to thrash around.

"JOSH, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??" I scream "You- you put me in a position- you made me pick between him and you. You did that to see if i cared??? Did you- did you rig it up so he would've died if I chose you?"

He laughs- I'm gonna fucking kill him- "aw don't be mad at me..."

He wasgoing to kill him- he was going tokill him- hewas goingto killhim- hewasgoingtokillhim- Josh was going to kill Y/N.

Fury rages through me "YOU FUCKING CUNT-" I grab a piece of ply wood and whip it towards his head- he hit Y/N- smack- he tortured Y/N- smack- wanted me to shoot Y/N- smack- HE TRIED TO KILL Y/N-

Before I can smack him again, Mike pulls me away and grabs the wood out of my hands "Chris- what the fuck?!"

Y/N holds me back- I take deep breaths- shit- what did I do?? "He- he confessed..." my voice is shaking, Josh is unconscious- bleeding- shit- what the fuck did I do??

"To what??" Mike sounds appalled by my actions.

I tremble- "he was- he wanted to kill him..."

"Who?"

My eyes meet Y/N, even after what he saw me do, he still has gentle love in his eyes "the saw wasn't just a fake body thing... he was going to kill you... he was fully ready to kill you..."

Chapter 8

"Then your friend will already be dead." The old guy had a sorry yet confident expression.

"Good." I mutter.

Y/N shakes my shoulder, "we need to go after him..."

I scoff "fuck that. Fuck him. He did it to himself"

"Chris, this isn't you," he pleads. Fuck- he's adorable. "We can't leave him to die. Or... I can't. No matter what he did..."

"Don't. Don't be stupid. He just said he's dead." I try to reason with him.

"If there's a chance, i can't let him die like that."

"Then I'll come with ye." The old guy tells Y/N.

"No, you're not. He's not going." I sigh "I'll go. You'll stay in the lodge."

"I'm fine, Chris."

"And I plan to keep you that way. I'll get josh, try not to kill him, and bring him back. Only because I adore you."

"Glad it's worth something."

His fucking head came off. We were looking for Josh- the Wendigo came- And took the old guys head off. I ran through the snow towards the lodge with the thing right behind me. I was shooting it whenever I could- it was so fucking fast, I almost didn't make it, but Y/N was right by the door waiting for me.

In the basement, Emily was begging Mike not to shoot her. I would've fought him, but- I just wanted Y/N. I just wanted him to hold me. Hes so gentle. He's so loving. He's so warm. I tried to shut out their dispute. I'm being held by my boyfriend. He loves me, I'm safe, no matter what happens next. Y/N is here, Y/N is holding me, Y/N is going to take care of me.

In his arms, I let myself break...

Chapter 10

That screech...

Oh fuck-

We hear the Wendigos coming through the basement- how did they get here??

The three of us sprint away from the sound, Y/N lets me run ahead, Emily behind him- up the stairs, through the maze, eventually to the movie theatre where Sam and Mike have opened the door "RUN!" I yell

"Go, go, go, go!!" Y/N calls out behind me.

I reach the main floor and run towards the door until I see the Wendigo perched on the wooden chandelier, I freeze, they can't see you if you're standing still. The old guys words replay in my mind. My eyes search for Y/N, but I can't find him, just Emily. She didn't shove him out of the way, did she???

The Wendigos chasing us climb up the stairs, and the main one, seemingly infuriated, started fighting them, giving me time to escape. I throw the door open and run. Please let him be okay, please- please- my legs collapse into the snow, please be okay, please come out.

Emily is out next, I don't have the fire to fight her in me anymore, I've done terrible things tonight, and all of it will be for nothing if that boy doesn't come out. Please, it can't have been for nothing.

He comes into view- Please-! But the Wendigo stares at him, no, no, please, he hasn't done anything wrong... i head towards the lodge, I need to catch him.

Sam's squeaky sneakers save him- holy shit- the Wendigo heads towards her, thank fuck- Y/N sprints into my arms, oh- baby...

I guide his sobbing form away from the lodge "I've got you, we made it- you- you made it-" I wipe his hair away from his sweaty forehead, I admire his face, his adorable fucking face "You survived..."

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

~Elliebean714 🦋🍄

#until dawn chris #chris hartley x reader #chris hartley #chris hartley until dawn x reader #chris until dawn #low-key climbing class angst too lol #🍄 anon #what if i said 🍄 anon was the loml??? what then!?!?#AM I CRAZYYYYY FOR THAT?! AM I WILD???#🍄 ANON BRINGS OUT THE BEST IN ME #THEY MAKE ME A LITERARY GOD #me the entire time while writing this: GIRL YOU ATE THAT-#CAUSE GIRLS I ATE #🍄 anon i adore you

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