#just a nice calm conversation in a dark alley with no witnesses

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Lunatic Parade Special Pamphlet Short Story: The 12 Vampires and the Magic Lamp [ENG Translation]

Original title: １２人のヴァンパイアと魔人のランプ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Lunatic Parade Limited Edition Special Pamphlet

Summary: After the Parade has come to an end, Yui receives a special ‘Magic Lamp’ from Count Walter’s butler which can be used to grant a single wish. As she tries to refuse the gift, the Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers promptly stop her and begin to fight over who has the right to use this valuable treasure. She escapes, but the boys chase her around the city, each of them determined to have their own wish granted. ーー And so, their game of tag begins.

“Chichinashi! Where are you hidin’!?”

“Oooi~ Bitch-chan~! Be a good girl and show yourself?”

With the Parade having come to an end, Ayato-kun and Laito-kun’s voices echo through a now quiet and nearly deserted Glimmer Street. While hiding in the shadow of the buildings, a sof sigh fell from my lips. 

“...What to do? I have to hurry and go to Bernstein Castle...”

Right now, I am on the run not only from Ayato-kun and Laito-kun, but from a total of 12 different Vampires. 

All of this happened because I obtained the golden, shimmering ‘magic lamp’ I’m currently holding in my hands.

ーー It happened after I managed to regain my heart with everyone’s help.

As I was about to leave this city to return to the Human World, I was approached by a butler working for Count Walter. He handed me this ‘Magic Lamp’ as an apology for the trouble his Master had caused me. According to what I was told, it is an extremely valuable treasure which will grant any one wish.

Furthermore...The Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers were there to witness the whole ordeal.

“I just can’t accept something so valuable. ...I’ll give this back to you, okay?”

As I said that in hope of returning to Bernstein castle afterwards, they stopped me in disbelief. 

And then claimed that if I did not want it, they would use it instead. ...This resulted into a fight and before they knew it, I had made a run for it, taking the lamp with me.

ーー And that is how our game of tag started.

I am not quite sure what everyone would wish for, but I believe we don’t need this thing if it can fulfill one person’s wish only.

“Heeh...So that’s your reasoning. Well, I’m pretty sure it’s useless though...”

“ーー S-Shuu-san...!?”

“Not just Shuu. I’m here too. Geez, you really made us go through the trouble of lookin’ for you.”

When I raised my head, Subaru-kun was standing next to me as well. ...No, it wasn’t just the two of them. All of the Sakamaki brothers had gathered, from Ayato-kun and Laito-kun whom I believed had walked past me earlier, to Kanato-kun and even Reiji-san. 

“Hehe...You’re pretty desperate, Subaru.”

“I mean, Subaru-kun’s going to wish for Bitch-chan to fall head over heels in love with him, right~? No wonder he’s so desperate, nfu~”

“D-Don’t be makin’ up lies! My wish is a new coffin!”

“All I want...is to live surrounded by an endless amount of sweets!”

“In that case, I’m gonna wish for a huge load of takoyaーー No, actually, might not be bad to have Chichinashi turned into a Chichiari*.”

--> チチアリ or ‘Chichiari’ would be the opposite of ‘Chichinashi’, literally meaning ‘to have boobs’.

“Eh!? M-Me...!?”

“You can’t, Ayato-kun. I’ll be one turning Bitch-chan into a voluptuous, young woman after all~*”

--> He literally describes it as a ナイスバディのオネーサン or ‘Nice body no Onee-san’. Onee-san is used to refer to women who are older than you are but since Laito-kun is only 17 in human years, it would apply to a girl in her early 20s as well.

“G-Geez! Cut it out, you two...!”

“...You guys really came up with some bullshit. If it can grant any wish, I’d make it so the Old Man never bothers me again...Pwaah...”

And so, they began to slowly close in on me. The very moment they reached for the lamp, Reiji-san - who had been the only one remaining quiet so far - suddenly raised his voice.

“Would you care explain this to me? ...Because you kept touching the lamp with those sweaty palms, there are now fingerprints all over it! Come on, it is not too late yet! Put these on at once!”

While frantically shouting at me, he threw a pair of white gloves my way. Surprised by his menacing look, I put them on as asked, and Reiji-san finally nodded his head in agreement. 

“I am disappointed...Do none of you grasp the true value of this lamp?”

“Haah? Are we really not allowed to touch it with our bare hands...?”

“It looks pretty normal from the outside though~ I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a similar example in Kanato-kun’s room...?”

“Yes. ...Well, that one isn’t capable of granting wishes though.”

Reiji-san sighed deeply at Ayato-kun, Latio-kun and Kanato-kun’s consecutive comments.

“...Only two of these ‘magic lamps’ exist in this world, making them very valuable from a historic point of view. Furthermore, the lamp may disappear once it has granted one’s wish, therefore it revolts me you lot are even considering putting it to use...”

While the other guys seemed little interested in Reiji-san’s emotion-laden speech, he once again spoke up.

“Well, I doubt you will ever understand.  ーー Especially you, whom I did not expect to even join us in the first place...”

“...Shut up. Who cares?”

Shuu-san calmly brushed off Reiji-san’s taunt as if it was nothing. 

“Hehe...Seems like he doesn’t give a shit ‘bout what you say.”

“Fufu, take a look at that frustrated expression on Reiji’s face. ...This might be the most interesting thing I’ve seen in quite some time.”

“Geez, cut it out you two~ Don’t you feel bad for Reiji~?”

“Feel bad? ...Hehe. Pretty sure your words hurt even more.”

The other four brothers who had been listening in on their conversation continued to chuckle...Which eventually caused Shuu-san to burst out laughing as well.

Seems like this sight dealt a pretty hefty blow to Reiji-san’s pride, as he stood there shaking violently from sheer anger.

I better make a run for it before things take a turn for the worse...

I used the fact they had suddenly completely forgotten about me to my advantage, and left the place at once.

“...Phew. Thank god. Seems like they didn’t notice.”

I eventually found myself on Aizen Alley, one of the streets located in the very back of Glimmer street. To be honest, I wasn’t too thrilled about having to pass through there, but if I wanted to head to the castle while avoiding Ayato-kun and the others, I had no other choice. 

“Hehe...Too bad. You can’t escape us First Bloods.”

“Hand over that lamp you are holding at once.”

I gasp at the voices resounding from the darkness. Those who appeared were Shin-kun and Carla-san.

“I-I can’t do that...! I believe it is wrong to use the lamp for one’s own selfish pursuits...”

“If we give it back, it’ll just get thrown into some old, dusty storage room, right? In that case, I’m pretty sure the lamp would be happier to have someone use it as well?”

“B-But...”

“Come on, don’t hesitate. You’re keeping Nii-san waiting as well. Can’t you hurry up?”

“...T-Then, what would you wish for, Shin-kun?”

While snorting at my desperate question, he answered with a smile.

“That should be obvious. I’d make sure those filthy Vampires disappear off the face of the Demon World at onーー”

“ーー No. We want cured ham.”

“N-Nii-san...?”

“We shall change all food in this world to cured ham. That is my...No, the dearest wish of all First Bloods.”

“R-Right...”

Carla-san would blurt that out with a straight face. It is the very definition of a selfish wish but I wonder if Shin-kun is truly okay with it? ...I look over at Shin-kun while wondering that, seeing him look at Carla-san in utter defeat.

“...Well then, woman. Hand it over right now.”

“You’re actually hoping to fulfill that wish...!?”

“Yes, of course.”

All food in this world will turn into cured ham...That is just simply pushing it one step too far. It pains me to have to deceive him...But I decided to tell a certain lie.

“H-Have you already had the chance to try the cured ham galette which is said to be this city’s speciality...?”

“...Pardon?”

“It’s a limited edition galette which is available at stores only after the Parade has ended. While passing by the shops earlier, I noticed that only very few were left, so I figured I would inform you just in case...”

While there was no guaranteeing he would believe me, I wanted to make Carla-san forget about the lamp, even if just for a few minutes. With that sole purpose in mind, I continued my act.

“...Let us go, Shin. Just leave this woman be.”

“W-Wait, Nii-san! You’re just going to believe her on her word!?”

“We will know whether she was speaking the truth or not once we get to the shop. Even if she had been lying, capturing a human woman is child’s play to me. However, if she has been speaking the truth...”

“If we don’t hurry, they’ll run out of cured ham galettes, right? ...Right, I understand.”

Realizing there was no point in trying to reason with him, Shin-kun reluctantly trailed behind Carla-san as they left. 

I truly am sorry...While internally apologizing to both of them, I headed towards my desitation. 

“Haah...I can finally see it in the distance...”

Some time after I bid farewell with the Tsukinami brothers, I finally got close to Bernstein castle.

“Oh no...I can’t approach the castle like this...”

After all, four familiar figures were standing lined up by the castle’s gate. Those are the Mukami brothers...Of course, with Ruki-kun standing in the middle. As to be expected of a strategist like him. If I wanted to return the lamp to its owner, I would have to make it back here eventually. They were one step ahead of me.

“Eve...Found you...”

“...!! A-Azusa-kun!?”

When I timidly turned around at the voice suddenly calling for me from behind, Azusa-kun - who was talking to Ruki-kun and the others up until seconds ago - suddenly stood right in front of me. 

“Ahー M-neko-chan! So this is where you’ve been~!”

“Che...Ya sure took yer sweet time. You’re damn late, Sow!”

“...Calm down, you guys. If we make too much of a ruckus, we’ll attract the attention of the others.”

When I raised my voice, it caught everyone’s attention and without a chance to slip away, I was soon surrounded by the four Mukami brothers.

“I’m sorry, guys. But I won’t hand over this lamp to anyone...!”

After jumping the gun like that, Ruki-kun let out a disappointed sigh.

“...Seems like you have got the wrong idea. I simply want to look after the lamp for you.”

“Eh...? You don’t want to use it to grant your own wish?”

“Of course not. If a Vampire such as myself holds on to the lamp, it will decrease the chances of one of the other guys stealing it.”

“You say that buuuut~ ...Ruki-kun, aren’t you actually hoping to use that lamp to renovate our manor~?”

“Your own exclusive study room off-limits for anyone else, and a play room filled with nothing but chess boards...Hehe, as to be expected of Mr. Eldest son.”

“Kuh...! Don’t assume such things. All I want to do is to make the home we have received from that man the most comfortable for you all to live in...!”

While Ruki-kun chuckles sarcastically after his true intentions are exposed by his siblings, Azusa-kun reached out for me.

“Listen, Eve...The four of us talked it out and...We’ve decided to use the lamp together with Ruki as our representative...”

“Ruki-kun’s so mean, you know~! I was actually going to wish for a hundred year’s worth of Vongole Bianco.” 

“I was gonna ask for the power to manipulate the weather...But my idea got shot down at once. ...Haah...And here I thought I could make field work a lil’ easier on myself...”

“I just want to be with Eve so...I didn’t really have any particular wishes...”

“Is that so...? It’s really admirable of you all to hold back on your own desires.”

Even though the younger brothers were voicing their complaints, it didn’t seem like they were going to force their own wishes through. I’m sure it is because Ruki-kun intends to make a wish which benefits the whole family, as the deep bond of trust between the four brothers somehow made me feel warm inside.

However...That still does not mean I will give them the lamp. 

“Uhm, you see...It just doesn’t sit right with me to only have one person’s wish granteーー!?”

The second I felt as if something was closing on me, a large sound resounded from the nearby buildings before they collapsed.

“...!? This magic...”

“The Tsukinami’s...perhaps? Look, over there...!”

“Ugeh! They look hella pissed off! Did ya do somethin’!?”

“Uu...W-Well...”

I could feel my heart drop at Yuma-kun’s words. Carla-san and Shin-kun must be upset about the lie I ended up telling them back then...

“Say, what should we do!? At this rate, we’ll all be turned to dust...!”

Kou-kun’s exclamation made me panic as I rushed towards the two brothers. Either way, I just had to apologize as quickly as possible...However, I was stopped by the Sakamaki brothers before I could reach them.

“You’ve got nowhere to run now...Oi, hand me the lamp already!”

“What are you saying, Subaru? I will be using the lamp. You’re in the way!”

“Hell no! I’m gonna have my wish granted!”

“Ehー Let me have the honor for once~ We can only use it once and my wish is obviously the best.”

Shuu-san joins in a little late as well and before I know it, the Sakamaki, Mukami and Tsukinami brothers are all gathered just like when we started off.

Glares were being exchanged here and there as a hostile atmosphere fills the air. I can no longer stop them all by myself. In that case, I will have to rely on an outer source to back me up. I didn’t want to use the lamp to have a wish granted but...This is the only way to stop their fight.

While rubbing the side of the lamp, I spoke up with a loud voice.

“Release lanterns into the sky once more!”

White smoke emitted from the lamp and soon after ー Poof! The lamp disappeared with a popping sound. 

When I look up at the sky, I once again witness the same magical sight of countless lanterns floating through the sky, just like they did a few hours ago. ...At some point, their quarreling voices had gone quiet as well. 

“You...Haah. You really are a foolish woman.”

“Ya really think we’re happy with this crap? Geez. Ya really used the lamp for some useless shit...”

“...Eh...?”

Shuu-san and Yuma-kun’s remarks catch me off guard as I froze on the spot.

“...Livestock, seems like you did not grasp the true value of that lamp.”

“Exactly...To think a great hidden treasure of the Demon World has been lost over such a ridiculous wish...!”

Ruki-kun and Reiji-san voiced their complaints as well.

“B-But...! All of you were moved by the lanterns, no...?”

I frantically reached out for the others, hoping that at least one of them would agree with me. ...That was all I wished for, yet...

“I mean, sure? But to be honest, I didn’t need to see it a second time...”

“...I’d hate to have to agree with a mere Vampire...But I’ll admit that Kou is right this one time. You feel the same, don’t you, Nii-san?”

“...My cured ham...”

“Too bad, Shin-san...Seems like Carla-san can’t hear you right now...”

“Ah-aah...I was looking forward to seeing a sexy Bitch-chan as well~”

“Me too. I was already making plans for which sweet I would try first...!”

“Fuck! There goes my plan of gettin’ a coffin in which nobody can bother me...!”

All I got in return were negative responses and sighs.

“...Guess I’ve got no other choice then! Oi, Chichinashi! Let me suck your blood to make up for it!”

“W-Wait! That’s way too sudden...!”

“Shut up! That’s the only thing which can calm this anger inside of me!”

While Ayato-kun closed in, I looked around me in search of someone to save me, but all I could see were a bunch of eyes glaring at me from the darkness. At this rate, they will all take my blood. ...There is no way I would come out of that alive. Realizing I had to make a run for it...I dashed away at full-speed.

“Ah! Wait, M-neko-chan!!”

“Geez, Bitch-chan! I’m not scary though~!”

The many lanterns floating through the night sky was a sight to behold, but unfortunately, I did not have the leaway to enjoy that right now. After all, I had to flee from their approaching footsteps and voices calling out for me as soon as possible.

I didn’t want them to fight and while I never expected them to become friends, I wished they would at least try and be on neutral terms with each other. 

That wish was most definitely granted. Right now, they had put the strained relationship between the different families aside to join forces.

However, knowing their shared goal is my blood...doesn’t make me happy at all.

ーー The Demon World’s Parade safely came to an end, but my night had only just begun.

ーー END ーー

[bored-storyteller]

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish Street Siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re awesome), I present my own built-on concept. It’s a bit angstier but sue me I’m an angst ball

AO3 | Deluge

Chapter 1: Drizzle

Jason Todd loved the rain. He remembered it pattering on the roof as he dozed off into the night, curled up with Sparky. Times spent splashing in puddles. Drawing a rare smile from Catherine as bright as the morning sun. Days without Willis, his head stuck in a worn copy of Huckleberry Finn and the ambience set only by the rain as it tracked ran down the window he leant on.

It was raining when Jason woke to his mother’s lax corpse, ears drowning out every sound except the rain’s as it plinked in time with the droplets that dripped down her arm.

--

In front of her, Faizul’s corpse is still. So still that Cassandra Cain can almost block out how the man’s body only radiated pain and fear and agony so strong-and-she-did-that-with-her-hands-her-hands-so-red-and-.

But she can’t, her head is still drowning in the memory, and all she can think about is the fear emptiness that settles in her body. Her gift to understand movement as if it were a language, she learns, is nothing more than a curse when Death comes by her hand. She wrings her red fist, as tainted as her soul because of what she had done. She looks away.

Father David has his arms outstretched, a smile so sharp and so bright that if he were any other man, she would have thought he was proud. He is, but underneath, Cassandra can see nothing but sick and profound glee at what she can do. The decision is easy.

As Cassandra springs out the window, its hinges blew wide open, her father David keeled over, the sky crackles and runs with the long red rivulets off her arms.

--

Now, five months later, Jason ducks his head under the fire escape in an empty alley, the rain in a duet with the nightlife of Gotham. He allows himself some respite as it steadily washes the grime off his surroundings, a pleasant ratatatata above the ambient din that is the dark of Gotham. He is so tired, but he’ll have to move soon if he wants to stay out of sight of kidnappers and killers and whatever else haunts the shadows of Gotham.

A howl slices through the Gotham night as some mug gets his face slammed into a wall. Jason knows this because he can see it right now as the same mook gets decked by a – a girl. Anyone on the streets knows that girls can hold their own but seeing some thirty-something-year-old man get his ass handed to him by a pixie of a girl – he thinks she’s his age, somehow – is something else. Seriously, the guy looks terrified out of his mind as he runs with his tail between his legs after a particularly nasty hit to his crotch.

As if sensing his gaze, the girl snaps her head to him, locking him in place.

“Uh… Hi?” Jason raises his hand in an awkward wave which the girl mimics, albeit a bit stilted, her head on a tilt. The silence between the two of them stretches until the girl seems to see something in him and nods. Out of ideas, Jason digs around his bag and produces a fresh enough apple.

“I’m Jason.” He points to himself.

A beat, and then the girl repeats the gesture.

“Cuh, cuh, cuh,” She struggles with the words, her forehead pinched. “Cuh, ah, ssss.”

“Cass?” The girl nods again, this time rigorously. Unsure of himself, Jason raises the apple to her. “Well, nice to meet you, Cass. You hungry?”

Cass grins, her eyes twinkling as she bites into the apple. Around them, the rain lessens. Just a little.

--

She watches two of her most precious children draw closer, children who will laugh and cry and burn for her love. Gotham watches them come, raises her arms, and weeps with her joy.

“Jason and Cassandra against the world,” Is what Gotham would have said if she had a voice. For years, the city is content to watch her children. She observes Jason and Cassandra as they starve, as they fight, as they grow. On one night, the weather nothing but pluvial, she witnesses them come across the strange car in the alleyway owned by her first child. On that night, she watches as the Dark Knight comes across her most perfect pair of children.

--

“Cassandra,” She looks up at the man they had been living under for the past two months, Bruce. She makes no answer, only staring blankly at him–they were betting on seeing how long it took for the man to get uncomfortable when she does that–who stares back. He continues as if they had not been staring for a full minute, which is not to Cass’ benefit. “Do you know where Jason is?”

Cass, willing to keep trying, keeps her gaze unrepentant. Under her scrutiny, the Dark Knight’s demeanour finally cracks a little. Internally, Cass is ecstatic, but she still really wants to milk it as she keeps up the act.

“Someone call for me?” Jay comes down the stairs. Finally, Cass can break her façade.

“Good morning, slob.” The slob, honest to god, freezes.

“No,” He grinds out of his teeth.

“Yes,” Cass gives him a crooked smile. “slob.”

“Am I missing something here?” Bruce is frowning. Oh right, he was ignorant to their scheme.

“Slob,” Cass repeats with feeling and delights at Jay’s fuming. “S-L-O-B. It means Stupid-Loser-Of-Bets,” She looks Jay dead in the eye again and calls him by the name.

Bruce frowned even further (his body projects such honest confusion that Cass almost laughs). “I was not aware you two had made a bet.”

“A bet I lost because of you, old man!” Jay pipes up, suddenly fuming at Bruce. “You’re Batman, and you can’t even keep from cracking when some girl stares at you for longer than a minute?”

Cass does not hold in her laughter anymore, something she broadcasts to all gathered. Bruce sighs, but at least he waits for her to calm down before he gets to his point.

“Regardless… I need you two to come with me to my office,” As the man leaves, the two share a glance.

“You gonna go after him?”

“You first, slob,” Jay grumbles the entire way to the office, where Bruce waves them in.

For a few seconds, the man awkwardly shifts before he pulls a sheaf of papers from behind his desk.

“I… I quite enjoy having the two of you here. With me,” Bruce admits, looking both of them in the eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I do not want to force this on either of you, but I would love to have you here with me for longer.”

“Permanently, even.”

Bruce lays out the papers on the desk, ‘Adoption Applications’ printed at the top. The letters draw a sharp breath from Jay, and Cass is confident enough with reading to understand what it means.

“Yes,” They both say immediately, and Bruce’s face goes softer than either have ever seen it.

When he asks for their surnames, Cass thinks about saying Cain. Instead, she says Todd.

Shyly, her russet orbs meet his azure ones expecting anger, but everything about Jason only projects love and acceptance. Her grin, something she had not got right yet, is almost identical to the one her brother wears.

“Always wanted a sister. Can’t do much better than you, eh, Cass?”

“Yes Jay,” she pauses. “slob.”

Outside, the sky is open in a light drizzle.

--

If there is anyone in the Waynes that Jason thinks is his favourite, it would be Alfred. An opinion he thinks Cass would be hard-pressed to disagree with. Of course, Cass is still in awe about the fact that Bruce Wayne is Batman (and isn’t that just fucking crazy), so it’s understandable. Conversely, Jason still remembers his first memory of the butler, a kind smile and welcoming arms that promised care for both of them.

“Master Jason,” The boy had looked up to see a crinkle in Alfred’s eyes that he had only ever seen from Catherine. The butler continued, somehow even softer than his usual. “Would you like me to fix that for you?”

Alfred gestured to Jason’s battered copy of Huckleberry Finn that he had cradled self-consciously to his chest. He refused, unsure why the butler seemed to be delighted to see Jason in the way only Cass and his Mom did. But there is something so trustworthy about the man that part of Jason is sure Alfred would do things like that no matter what he asked. So, automatic favourite.

--

Their older brother, Dick (“Aptly nicknamed,” Jay mutters under his breath.), yells whenever he comes to the manor. Most of his visits tend to cycle between him screaming at Bruce or yelling about them. He does make an effort to be a little quieter when he’s talking about the latter. Although, he still looks at Jay with an indecipherable mixture of emotions in his eyes. A pool caught between anger and something unknown to them. It’s not something that upsets Cass, but it puts both of them off, nonetheless.

On the other hand, Barbara is a little more forward in her dislike of the new kids. More often than not, her ire seems aimed at Cass specifically. Privately, Cass thinks Barbara was still angry about Bruce taking her role as Batgirl and giving it to Cass. But, she can see how every time the older girl gets less hostile, another part of her body was long past the role anyway. So, she doesn’t hold it against Oracle.

--

“C’mon Cass, repeat after me,” Jason waves the pages in Cass’ face, which elicits a giggle from his sister. Her giggling unbalances the both of them, so they have to waste another couple of minutes to make themselves comfortable again.

“What’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?”

Cass repeats the words, but she struggles at ‘troublesome’, so Jason repeats it for her. Silence, and then.

“What mean?” He thinks she isn’t asking about the word.

“Well, Mom used to say that it was just that. It might be harder to do the right thing, but it’d be better since you at least did it properly,” Satisfied, his sister merely nods and tries the words again. This time, she only takes three tries until she gets ‘troublesome’ right.

“I think she would have liked you,” He murmurs between phrases and instantly regrets it when Cass’ head turns to him so sharply she jostles him. He is about to brush it off when she nods her head shyly, snuggling closer to Jason.

He thinks, as they keep reading, that things are going to turn out alright. He has Robin now, and Robin gives him magic. Not only that but he’s also got Cass as Batgirl. Sure, she has that weird stitch mask covering her face, but it’s so fitting that he cannot imagine Cass with any other kind of costume. He knows her, and she knows him. For years she has been the sister he never knew he needed.

Together, Jason muses, they’re going to shake the whole damn world.

--

Whether they're from the Justice League or otherwise, everyone is always ready with a snide comment directed towards them. Or, more specifically, Jason. They use words and insults that don’t make sense to her, but she can see them affect her brother. When she asks, all he does is brush her off with lies and platitudes that they both know are fake. It isn’t until Troia huffs and says something that has waves of hurt rolling off Jason’s body that Cass decides she’s had enough.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think you’d ever be like – ow!” Troia, poise flooded with nothing but condescension (she’s too angry to be elated at remembering a word Jason taught her) that Cass quickly corrects with a sharp jab. Like a deer in headlights, she turns and somehow has the gall to look indignant (another word). “Who did – Batgirl?”

“What, are you doing?” Troia fucking blinks. “Why are you treating my brother like this?”

She doesn’t even look guilty.

“Oh, don’t worry about all that. I don’t think it’s anything you’d understand anyway,”

She bends down towards her, apparently not noticing how still she is. Anyone who knows anything about Cassandra Todd knows her stillness means Death. Evidently, Troia is an exception. She's the only one in the room that's relaxed.

“Some people are simply born for this role. No street rat can ever hope to achieve that.”

Cassandra moves before anyone even blinks, her arms a flurry of jabs and punches and vicious kicks as she catches Troia off guard. Even when she finally regains her footing, the Amazon doesn't stand a sliver of a chance as Cassandra lays into her.

A block from Troia awards a savage stomp on her shin. A punch ducked under and followed through into a sequence of blows to the Amazon’s chest. When Troia grips her lasso and tries to restrain Cassandra, the girl only slinks her way past and wrestles it from her hands. Quickly and efficiently, she wraps it around the Amazon’s waist and pulls. For someone so small, Cassandra manages to lift Troia with the lasso with enough strength that when she releases it, the Amazon goes flying into a pillar in the Watchtower with a sharp crack.

Cass picks up her brother and shields him from the Leaguers, indifferent to their shocked and judgemental eyes.

The message is clear.

Even though they’re lost in a veritable sea of people, it still ends up being just the two of them, and Cass is more than okay with that.

Next chapter

[beerecordings]

Marvin’s Cage - Part Four

Anti is getting impatient to see Marvin fall apart. Jackie starts making tough choices of his own. Here’s part one, part two, and part three. Hope you enjoy.

.

He is, by now, a person used to making difficult decisions.

You have people you love, it means you have to make choices. You make decisions that hurt other people. You do what you have to. And if you have to sacrifice one brother for another, you do what needs to be done.

Because no one else has the strength to do it.

No one but him.

And today – here, now – under the cold fluorescent of the lights – alone, far from home – Marvin the Magnificent has another impossible decisions to make.

He can get him the goldfish or the llamas.

“Yeah, fucking great, Marv,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head and feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. “I'm sure cute socks will make this all right.”

The bulbous eyes of the little herd of goldfish stare back at him from a blue cotton sea. The llama has glasses on. It admires itself in a mirror, a tie around its neck and a smirk on its face. Jamie will love them.

Or he would have, Marvin supposes, back when they were both pretending Marvin loved him.

He hears himself groan aloud in the shop. It draws attention, but he just ignores it, rubbing his temples.

He unlocks his phone for a second and opens contact name “JB,” staring down at the smiling, frozen image of his older brother in the picture above the name. Below it, his phone prints out the latest text he got from him.

JB: I spotted him in the area last week and you still go out without telling someone where and when you'll be back? Let me know you're safe dude

It's followed by several angry-face emojis. Marvin wishes he could appreciate the attempt at levity.

Just call him. Just ring his number. Tell him everything. Just call Jackie.

He closes out of the contact and clicks on messages.

Marv: I just went for a walk. Home in twenty

JB: can I come meet you?

Marv: Just give me twenty

JB: Marv i'm nervous come on. I feel like he's close let me come meet you

Marvin tucks his phone away, sighing through his nose.

He gets the goldfish and the llamas, packing them into a little plastic grocery bag and grabbing a pack of JJ's favorite candy to boot. Maybe he'll eat something today. Or move at all.

He steps out of the store and pulls open contact name “Herr Dumbass.” Henrik could help JJ get better. Probably. He's not really that kind of doctor, but they make him act like one half the time. He definitely wasn't qualified to be Jackie's chiropractor last week, and yet here their brother is, back on his feet, enduring the back pain instead of being completely debilitated by it. Progress!

His phone buzzes.

Herr Dumbass: Your brother is losing it, Marvin

Marvin scowls.

Marv: Why is he my brother when he's losing it

Herr Dumbass: you're not doing well already, Anti shows up in town, Chase is drinking again, and you run off without telling him where you're going. You're breaking the camel's back here, my friend

Marv: don't 'my friend' me when you're trying to lecture me. I'll be home in twenty. If Jackie can't handle that he needs to be seeing his therapist again

Herr Dumbass: undoubtedly he does. But that appointment is a week away. Right now, he wants to know that his siblings are safe.

Marv: I'm not allowed to go to the store now?

Herr Dumbass: You can and will do what you want, Marvin.

Marv: But?

Herr Dumbass: But what? Stubborn dick

Marvin growls in frustration moments before feeling a small laugh escape his mouth.

“Goddamn you,” he mutters at his phone. But he feels a little better.

Call him.

What, and tell him all this? Everything he's done? Admit it? He'd be so hurt, so angry. So disappointed. Bleck. Marvin can't take that. It makes his hands shake.

But there is one person he can call.

“Hey babyyyyy,” he draws out, picking up the phone on the first ring.

Marvin laughs, clutching the phone to his face. “Amata.”

“Marv, did you get me snacks?”

“What? No.”

“Then why'd you even bother going to the store?”

“Honey, listen, get off Overwatch and go get Jackie before he does something dumb. Put on that claymation he loves so much and make some hot chocolate. He'll calm down in just a minute.”

“But I'm winning!”

Marvin snorts. “I can already hear that you paused it. That's my nice guy.”

“Aw, shucks. Little old me?”

“Stop flirting and come help!” Henrik shouts from somewhere on Chase's end. Marvin laughs and hears Chase laughing with him. He pulls the phone away just to look at his contact picture, an image of Chase making his stupidest, goofiest face. Perfect.

“I love you,” says Marvin. Today, the truth of it makes his voice tremble. “My amata.”

“Love you too, witch bitch. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Well, he called him, but there wasn't any meat to the conversation. Didn't tell him anything worth telling him, not really. Except 'I love you.'

Coward. He's a coward these days. Oh, fuck, what he wouldn't give to feel like he could go to any one of them like this. But this pressure – shit, this pressure that sits on his chest – it's just for him to bear.

Otherwise they wouldn't be safe. They'd let his secret go and he'd kill them.

Marvin has to keep that secret locked away.

But what he wouldn't give for a little rest from the stone on his heart.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Marvin jolts so hard he drops his shopping bag, JJ's Riesen slipping out onto the pavement. Er – no, sorry. The brick. The brick of this alleyway. Where is he?

His eyes raise.

It was day a moment ago. He knows it was. Where did the light go? Instead there is only shadow, cloaked around a slim, dangerous figure perched on the side of the dumpster at the back of the alley. Rats crawl over torn black jeans and death birds crow warnings above his head. A slug moves slowly down the side of Anti's shadowed face.

His green eyes glow in the darkness.

“Anti,” says Marvin, hushed. He is too startled to sound unafraid. “You transported me here.”

Anti tilts his head, blood clinging to his eyelashes. Marvin sees the glitch flicker and Anti, for just a moment, is a screaming, cut-throat Jack, and then he is still again. Just waving his legs and slow circles.

“No,” he says, disinterested. His accent is so thick these days Marvin feels like they may as well have switched right to speaking in Irish. “You just aren't paying attention, alleycat. Walked here. Mumbling about socks and superheroes. Real cute. Can I tell you a secret?”

Marvin pants, glancing around the alley. Behind him, normal life is continuing. People pass by the little alleyway, holding phones to their ears or carrying shopping bags or bouncing little round-faced babies. It is day after all.

He could turn and run. Anti does not make bold plays these days. He's a snake lying in wait. Marvin knows this. Just a scare tactic.

He doesn't run.

“What do you want?”

His voice comes out in a whisper. He doesn't think he has the strength to snipe at him today, blade dulled for any battle of wits. They usually mock each other.

Anti comes to see Jamie perhaps twice a week. Usually, Marvin isn't there, but he'll step into the mirror dimension and find JJ collapsed at odd angles, bleeding from the nose or eyes, or otherwise simply crying for Marvin to stop his big brother from coming to see him anymore, saying he doesn't want to play. Lately, though, Anti's visits have slowed. Maybe they're both getting tired of Jamie's increasing apathy. His growing reticence.

“Focus, now, my pet,” says Anti, tilting his head back the other direction, then right – right, left, right, left, a slow rhythm back and forth. “Can't think about anything but the boy. What'd old Anti tell you would happen, Whiskers?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” says Marvin.

Anti pushes himself off the dumpster, landing on the ground with his hands and feet. He crawls along the ground towards Marvin, form glitching into different places on the alleyway. A snake slinks out of his shirt and slithers away. Anti picks up the shopping bag and then draws himself standing, eyes still glittering like gems on display.

“Chocolate chews and llama clothes,” says Anti, voice evening out the closer he gets to Marvin. His body shifts into the magician's form, the darkness fading away, and he seems to stabilize, pulling a spider out of his mouth and flicking it to the ground. Now he stands before Marvin as a prettier and neater version of himself, almost disturbingly beautiful in a way that makes Marvin's skin crawl. A quick glitch and Anti is filthy with mud and ash once more, blood dried to huge swathes of otherwise moon-white skin, and then, flicker – back to Marvin. He shakes the shopping bag in front of the magician. “Wonder who these are for.”

Marvin snatches the bag away from him, chest heaving. Anti laughs aloud, stepping away again, hands upraised.

“Chill out, kitty cat,” he says, adopting Chase's accent, and he shifts again, wearing a cap and basketball shorts, shoeless in the alleyway and tattooed up and down his arms. “Come on, man, I just want to talk.”

“Don't call me man.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“How about you leave me the hell alone?”

“Come on. Come on.”

He signs it now, eyes going huge and languid, turning blue as his outfit changes to a torn dress shirt and worn slacks. “Talk with me, Marvin, won't you? Won't you talk with me? Can't I have just one hug, just one, just - ”

“Stop!” shouts Marvin, stalking forwards. “Stop it, he doesn't say things like that!”

Anti has vanished again. Shadow curls around Marvin's neck. Something grabs him by the waist and hauls him back towards the dumpster, pinning him bodily against its cold metal. He hollers, but it's cut off just as fast as it started by someone else's beard scratching against his cheek.

“Here's the secret,” says a voice just like Jackie's, strong hands gripping his hips. A vole skitters into Marvin's shirt and he chokes as a mouth presses close to his ear. “I'm getting a little obsessed with you, big brother.”

He doesn't have an answer.

He doesn't want to give one anyway, not one with any meat. Don't let him get a rise out of you. That's what he wants.

Don't be afraid.

“Your creepy forest fairy act is getting a little overdone,” Marvin hisses, tilting his head back to let his mouth close to Anti's skin, the two of them pressed close together.

“I am as I am,” answers Anti, almost distantly. “It's so hard to stay human when master cut me off from him.”

“You slit Jack's fucking throat.”

“I was just curious,” protests Anti, his voice going high-pitched, almost childish. “How would I know what would happen? I was exploring. I was an infant. It is what infants do. When you are curious about something...”

Teeth scrape against Marvin's throat.

“You put it in your mouth.”

Marvin drives his elbow into Anti's stomach and shoves away from him, backing off, hands raised. As he begins to regain his composure, his magic drifts towards his fingers, hot and dangerous. Anti coos like a dove, tilting his head at the sight of it, his eyes lighting up with the colors.

“No wonder JJ cries and cries when I ask questions about you,” he snarls. “I can't imagine the way you've treated him.”

“Him and I did not play games the way you do,” answers Anti calmly. “So I was less cruel.”

“Fuck you.”

“It is the truth of things.”

“What do you want? I know you won't try anything. Not with Jackie close.”

“I like Jackie. He makes me curious the way Jack used to. But not like you, Marvin. Not like you.”

Another rat scurries out of Anti's entourage of shadow. This time, Marvin reaches down to snatch it up, holding it by the tail. He steps close, into Anti's space, and holds the squirming rat up between them, letting it writhe.

“Stop trying to scare me and talk.”

“Be gentle,” protests Anti, voice going weak. “He is just a little boy.”

He reaches tenderly out for the rat, cupping his palms. Marvin hesitates, confused, but the squeaking and squirming of the rat doesn't make him feel any better. A failed power play. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Anti takes the rat from him, holding it in his hands. He purrs and lets it lean in to sniff at his mouth, stroking the back of its head.

“Little man,” he whispers, pressing it to his chest.

Marvin stares at him, taking deep breaths. He's beginning to steady out. Yes, Anti is deadly, cruel, terrifying, monstrous – but he's also just Anti. Bored, clever, inhuman. Playful in a deranged sort of way. He doesn't know his own strength and he never has.

“I've been stalking you most all the time,” says Anti, turning his attention back to Marvin, his eyes gleaming. “No fun watching master sleep. No fun sitting around with JJ. But you... Marvin... mh. I am watching you the way one watches a dying star... waiting for the collapse. And then the explosion.”

“You stay the hell away from me,” warns Marvin. “Jackie will tear you apart, Anti, and you'll go licking your festering wounds just like last time.”

“You stole my birthday present,” pouts Anti. “And you expect me not to find someone else to entertain myself with?”

“JJ was not yours.”

“JJ was from Jack to me, for my birthday, otherwise he would not have made him on my birthday. Jack is just frightened like you – was just frightened like you, before I got a little carried away – so he gave me something to distract me, someone to play with. So you see, that boy was created to be used.”

Marvin shoves Anti's chest, turning to stalk away. He's breathing hard, overwhelmed. He needs to go home. Jackie must be losing it.

“I'm watching, big brother!” calls Anti after him, his eyes flashing red and all the shadows burning away into a vivid crimson glow. “I'm waiting for the day you reach your limit. That day, I won't be bored. I'll watch you implode for as long as you last, dying star. 'Don't call me man,' huh? Silly mortal thing. Birds know the seasons and rats run when storms are coming, but men heed nothing but their own pride. Your own choice will kill you, Marvin, and I, for one, am just drooling for the day that it happens!”

He bursts into wild laughter and the sound floods Marvin's ears, making him clutch at his skull with one hand and JJ's socks with the other. Llamas and goldfish and snakes on his shoes, crows tearing at his hair. He yells and launches himself forward, followed by the sound of Anti's cackling and screaming.

“I'd ask you to give me my birthday present back, but I know you're too stupid. But you wait until the day that master dreams of me again – I'll be waiting to step on your throat the second your brothers find out that you're even more of a monster than I am!”

“No!” shrieks Marvin. “No, no, you leave me alone! Jackie!”

“Sir – sir – hey, he's really not – dude, calm down!”

Hands are gripping at him, Anti's hands on his hips, on his shoulders, on his head. He screams aloud, thrashing as he's held firmly against the ground, as voices raise around him and nails descend on his skin –

“Marvin!”

Familiar hands. Familiar skin, no – not skin. Gloves. The gloves he's known since the day he was created.

“Marvin!”

A loud, firm voice, breaking through all other chaos. Gloves on his cheeks, holding him. He reaches up to grip at them, panting.

“No, I got him, I got him. Thanks for the help, but – no, our brother's a doctor, I just want to get him home. Thanks, yeah. We're fine, thanks. Come here, Marv. Come here.”

“Jackie,” he hears himself croak out. “Jackie. He was here... or... or maybe I just...”

Strong, familiar hands beneath warm gloves pull him aside even as he opens his eyes to dispersing crowds and the quiet of a clean, quiet alleyway to his side.

“Jackie...”

“I know, Marv,” comes his cool voice. “I know. Let's... let's just go home.”

“You turned the location app on on my phone again,” Marvin manages, accusing.

Jackie just holds his shoulders and leads him. “I'm sure you're glad I did now.”

He is. He is. He shudders and leans into his brother's body, letting himself by pulled towards home on a path he has long since lost.

.

“Do you think he really saw Anti or just...”

“So pale, like so goddamn pale. Like my ass is Irish but he's...”

“So loud, so loud, all of you stop talking. Marv's fine. He says he's fine. If he weren't he'd tell me, I'm sure...”

“Anti has been nearby...”

“Might be hurting him.”

“Drug use, if I...”

“Losing weight, paranoid, self-isolating, I mean...”

Marvin covers his head with his pillow and tries to block them out.

He's been confined to the house for a couple days. Doctor's orders. He's never seen Schneep so simultaneously scolding and concerned. And that's saying something, considering all the times he's found Chase drunk off his ass and having a breakdown at two in the morning.

Marvin sighs, a shuddering sound verging on a sob.

Can't take this anymore.

Maybe he could just give Jamie back to Anti. He'd take him away again. Might try to use his body to hurt the others, yes, but Anti is already a threat whether or not he has JJ. Marvin doesn't keep JJ in that box so Anti can't have him – he keeps him so Jackie can't have him, and then get attached, and then have to lose him, have to fight him, have to kill him. All when Anti inevitably gets his hands on his birthday present again. Inevitably.

“Cause I'm not smart enough to figure out how to protect him without doing this,” grumbles Marvin, shoving yet another grimoire off his bed. “Useless.”

The voices of the others have gone dull upstairs in Henrik's room, quieted by the pillow over his ears.

Can't go to them. Can't go to Anti.

There is one place, though.

There is one person.

Marvin finds himself slipping out of bed. Finds himself standing in front of that mirror. Finds himself lifting up his hand and whispering the password: “I'm not so faraway.”

They used to use it for transportation, back when Jack was in England and they were still in Ireland. Things were kind and easy back then.

He presses through the mirror. The world between worlds is endless and quiet, broken only by a faint scraping.

Marvin moves towards that little puppet box.

“Hey,” he breathes. “Oh, thank God... you're awake.”

JJ turns towards him, overgrown curls falling into his eyes. He's covered in charcoal, his torn dress shirt stained in black. Marvin can't help but smile. His little brother.

“Marvin?” asks JJ uncertainly. “Don't look well.”

Marvin nods weakly, running his fingers through his hair. “I know.”

JJ puts his charcoal down, abandoning the paper he was scratching at. He points at the grocery bag uncertainly.

“Can I come in?” asks Marvin.

Jameson stares, mouth slightly parted.

“JJ?”

“Yes, yes,” he signs quickly, shaking his head out. “Yes, but kind of dirty, sorry, I - ”

Marvin is already unlocking his side door and stepping inside.

JJ stares up at him in awe, blinking. After a moment, his blackened hands reach tentatively up –

Marvin tackles him in a hug.

There's this low squeak of a gasp from JJ, and then they're wrapped up together, entangled in a hug on the floor of that box in Marvin's mirror, rocking each other and pressed close together. They fall onto the mattress and don't let go, locked together like two parts of a key, their foreheads pressed close and their hands digging into each other's ribs and shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” whispers Marvin, kissing at his cheeks and his forehead, soothing at his uncut brown hair. “Do you know that? I – ”

“I know.” A fragile sign, pressed into the space between them. “I know, just don't leave me alone.”

“I won't let you go back to him. I won't. Maybe I'm worse but you will never – never, never – have to go back to Anti.”

JJ cries against his shirt, hiding in his chest.

“I love you.”

Marvin squeezes him against the mattress, slating his starvation to be touched, if only if for a few minutes.

“Not well enough, I know, but I do, I – ”

“I love you too, Marvin,” swears JJ, giving him a weak kiss on the cheek in answer. “You're all that I love. Just don't go. Don't go. I love you.”

And he knows that it's wrong, and he knows that it's convoluted, and he knows that it's Stockholm's –

But for a moment, it clears the debris from his broken heart, and his chest can rise easy.

“I brought you socks with llamas on them,” he adds after a long moment, and when he hears JJ laughing beneath him, he recognizes the sound of his family.

.

“So what do we do?” asks Chase lowly, sitting on Henrik's bed, staring up at his brothers with big blue eyes. “How do we help?”

“It's his birthday next week,” says Henrik. “We can do all his favorite things. Spoil him rotten. Get him whatever he wants. And then after that...”

“We start really prying,” says Jackie.

His back is turned to them. He stares out the window, eyes flickering with the shadows of the wind rocking the trees. For all that Marvin thought he would be overwhelmed – for all that he often is overwhelmed – right now, he feels calm.

“This has to stop,” he says.

He turns to see Henrik and Chase looking back at him, ready for whatever he asks.

“And it will,” he adds, stepping past them and heading towards his room, leaving them behind. “Before next week is out.”

In the yard, a flash of movement startles both of Marvin's cats, and the great grey mousers go scurrying away from a little white rat.

[sp00kworm]

Thorny Beginnings

Pairing: Kurora (Human Female) x Gethrow (Orc Male)

A/N: This was a commission piece for the lovely @calamityismyspecialty who kindly asked for their two OCs and the beginnings of their relationship together. It was a pleasure to write and so I thought I would share! Adult content under the cut.

---

Kurora slammed the door to the Sherriff’s office with a resounding bang. The wood shook in its hole and drew the attention of Gethrow from where he was leaned against the wall outside, watching the townspeople go back and forth about their day. The women lead children, their hands wrapped around their mother’s baskets as they headed home from the morning markets. Gethrow’s dark eyes turned on the door curiously as Kurora stormed out, her dark boots grinding at the cobbles before she huffed and kicked a pebble, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when it bounced against the wall and skittered away down the alley.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Gethrow asked as uncrossed his arms from his chest. The orc was covered in the leather jerkin armour of his clan, the emblems cut out and replaced long ago, but the heavy straps and metal sheets over his legs remained. The panels clicked as he turned, baring his teeth gruffly before he smiled brightly as her, tossing his dreadlocks over his shoulder.

Kurora looked at him through the sides of her eyes, “The Sherriff wants to talk to a man.” She hissed before flicking a knife from her belt and leaning in the spot he was curled against previously, “He won’t give me the bounty. A knife in his desk didn’t seem like a good option.”

 Kurora span her blade once more before sliding it back into its sheath at the base of her back before she reached up to adjust the heavy mask covering the bottom half of her face.

Gethrow laughed as though she had just told a joke, “No, a knife won’t get us that bounty.” He stroked his chin before moving towards the door, ducking his six-foot seven frame into the doorway before entering like a giant shadow. Kurora tried to prevent herself from smiling as she listened to the hushed whispers inside and occupied herself by checking her travel bag. She’d enough food for rations before they both went to collect the contract, but it now seemed like not enough. She hoped their hunting skills could fill in the rest of the food requirements, especially considering Gethrow’s appetite. A few moments later, the door slammed open once again, and Gethrow ducked out of the building with a scroll in his hand. With a smile that exposed his shorn tusks, he unfurled the thing and tapped the bottom where the Sherriff had penned their names.

“Good. Let’s go.” Kurora huffed as she tied her bag back shut by her side.

“Come on. You’ll be glad to know I gave him a nice little talking to.” Gethrow assured her as he followed in her footsteps.

 She tried not to be angry, especially with Gethrow. After getting back into the main market area, she managed to take a breath and calm herself down.

“What did you tell him?” Kurora mumbled through the cotton covering her face.

Gethrow looked down at her, smiling at the fading anger in her brown eyes. If she were another woman, he might have taken her hand, but he knew all too well her reaction to such touches. She was scarred and scared, emotionally, and physically. It would take time for Kurora to come around to his touches. He huffed a laugh before leaning down to her ear and grinning.

“I told him to fuck himself with his own cock if he thought so little of women.” The orc leaned back and reached to tie his dreadlocks back more tightly, ensuring the thick, leather tie was tight around the hair before he flicked away the heavy beads and bones from his shoulders. Kurora’s eyebrows softened and the edges of her eyes crinkled.

“Is that a smile?” Gethrow teased her gently, “My stoic little crow is smiling?”

 “Not on your life.” Kurora joked before reaching for her knife and tapping the hilt, “Do they want them dead?” She was far too quick to swap into business talk.

Gethrow tried not to look too annoyed by the brash change in conversation tone, “The Sherriff wants one to face trial. The rest…well, he’s left that up to us.” He offered with a shrug, “I don’t have a preference, but we don’t have the wagon to take ‘em all back. Best to just bring a few for the townspeople to try at the stand.”

Kurora nodded her head, “Kill the bandits it is then. Well…” She took a knife from her belt and flipped it around before humming, “We kill all but two.”

 “All but two.” Gethrow confirmed aloud before looking down at Kurora, “Are you sure we can do this?” He asked, concern lacing his voice as he gently pushed the knife down from Kurora’s front.

“What do you mean?” She asked, venom lacing her tone, “I’m fine. The scars barely hurt and I’m…” She caught herself before she could start. One too many times recently she’d unleashed hell upon her partner. They were supposed to be courting she reminded herself often. They didn’t need to quarrel and argue about things when Gethrow was simply looking out for her.

“You know I’m worried, little crow.” Gethrow rumbled, “You’re…stiff and I would rather you not get hurt.”

Kurora snapped her knife back into its sheath, “I’m fine, Gethrow.” She laid a hand on his heavily muscled arm, “I have you there, and that means nothing bad will happen. We’ve dealt with worse than a little band of half-wit bandits before.” She rubbed softly at his olive skin with her thumb before taking her hand away again, unsure of what she was really doing.

“Let me know if you…” Gethrow rolled his eyes as she held up her hand and snapped it like a beak at him, “Put that sass away.” He teased her as he checked his curved cleavers and snapped them back to his belt, “I don’t want any of it while we’re away, alright?” He took hold of her hips gently as they came to the treeline, but his hands were pushed away as Kurora made a dash for the shadows of the woods.

 The journey to find the bandits took several days. Their camp was high in the mountains to the east of the settlement. Gethrow weighted his axe in his hands as the two of them huddled by the entrance to the main cave. Kurora slid her blades free from her waist, testing the sharpness of them against each other as they watched the group drink themselves into stupors around a campfire.

“How many are there?” Gethrow asked as he pinned his hair back behind his head.

Kurora pointed the tip of her knife over the edge, “Ten in total.” She said nothing else as she flashed the flat of the blade and watched the bandit stationed by the door scowl at the light flash. He turned from his position, his pipe held between his lips as he scrubbed at his hair and headed towards the flashing blade. Kurora watched, breathing evenly before she looked over at the other side of the entrance, watching Gethrow breathe evenly and quietly for a moment. His chest moved, the hair covering his body standing on end as the guard drew closer and closer to the entrance. Suddenly, for a moment, she realised just how handsome Gethrow was. The moment was over as she grappled the guard around the neck, hauling him to the side before she slid her blade into his neck and forwards, silencing him with a gurgle.

 “Two for the stocks, big guy.” Kurora whispered as she let the man fall over the side of the mountain, blood pouring from his neck.

Gethrow frowned before rolling his shoulders, “Two for the stocks.” He confirmed before he swung his axe, slicing open the other rogue that had come to investigate. The people inside quickly bolted into action and Kurora watched Gethrow’s broad back as he stormed in himself, hefting a blood laced axe at the first two men that headed towards him. Kurora dashed in underneath his arm as the axe’s double blade clashed with two swords. A woman reached for her bow and met the hilt of Kurora’s blade. Kurora smashed her fist against the woman’s nose before slamming her other blade into the woman’s stomach, twisting before she made a dash for the next two. Gethrow gave a great bellow as he dealt with two more. Kurora was alone in the fight as she faced the two men before her, perhaps twice her weight and seemingly much heavier hitters. She looked at the heavy club and sword before she made a dash around the two of them.

 Her dodge failed. A club clattered against her ankle mid roll and Kurora struggled back to her feet after a strangled cry. Gethrow’s eyes rushed to her as she struggled back to her feet and lashed at her attacker’s knees. She impaled her knife through the sword wielder’s knee before kicking at the socket again, grinning beneath her mask as he collapsed, his leg spurting blood. The second man struck at her again before grabbing for her hair. He caught the ends of her black hair, snatching it tight before he laughed and pulled the cloth from her face. Kurora struggled as her scarred chin and cheeks were revealed, the skin raw, pink and aggravated. The man grinned. His mistake was letting go of her hair. Kurora snatched his fingers between her teeth. The taste of blood hit her tongue as she ground her teeth deeper into the wound and spat the spit and blood into the bandit’s eyes. He howled in fury, but she was quicker on her feet and grabbed her knife from its place on the floor. She slashed at his eyes, grinning as blood splashed up her face. Gethrow was quick to look at her again, anger turning his face into a picture of perfect fury. Kurora grinned again as she smashed her knife into the bandit’s throat and slashed the other over his soft skin, splitting his neck open.

 “Kurora!” Gethrow called for her as he slammed a woman into a tent and bedroll, effectively tangling her in the sheets, “Two alive!” He reminded her before gently pointing to his chin. Kurora reached for her chin and swiped at the blood covering her scarred and torn skin. With a scowl, she grabbed her covering from the floor and tied it tightly before she grabbed the woman from her entanglement in the bedroll, slamming her against the floor again, her knee pressed viciously into the muscles at the base of her back.

“How’re you holding up?” Kurora glanced up, her face and hair matted with blood.

Gethrow grappled a male and tied his unconscious form tightly with rope before he dragged him over to tie his female companion as well. She spat and hissed until Kurora smacked her with the handle of her blade, knocking her unconscious.

“Could be better. Tired and covered in…well guts.” He scoffed before reaching and swiping his finger over her cheek, looking at the blood and spit on her face, “Come here.” Gethrow pulled his water-skin free, “You need to wash before you get ill again.”

Kurora snatched the skin a little more harshly than she intended, “I…Thank you.” She whispered before she made her way out of the cave to wash her face over the side of the mountain, cursing herself for being so foul.

 They returned the bandits and evidence of the deed being done to the Sherriff and received the full payment for their services. They had one more night in the small town in their room above the baker’s shop. It was simple and clean enough. Kurora peered at herself in the small mirror mounted to the cold stone wall. Gethrow was behind her, tending to the fire in the fireplace to keep them both warm. The orc was quiet ever since they had finished the job and Kurora knew her silence and brattish behaviour was responsible for it in part. She touched the scars on the bottom of her face once again. Ugly. The accident had left her ugly. With a grumble to herself, she reached for her cotton mask, only for a large green hand to cover her own, pushing the cotton back onto the table. Gethrow’s hairy chest pressed to her back and she pushed back against his warmth instinctually. There was a noise of appreciation from the orc’s chest as he carefully turned her and tilted her chin upwards.

 Kurora scowled, “I know they’re ugly, Gethrow. You don’t have to look at me like I’m some…” She stopped herself, “I…” Lamely, she let her hands fall to her side before he took hold of the small jar of ointment from the small bag of toiletries she had. He opened the top and the heavy smell of mint and lavender invaded their nostrils. Gethrow tilted her chin up again before silently rubbing the ointment over the thick, puckered scars with one large finger, tracing their lengths gently. Carefully he made sure to get under her nose before he took a cloth and wiped at the end of her nose with a smile.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” He promised, his voice just loud enough for only her to hear, “I think you’re beautiful. I did since I first saw you, and some scarring doesn’t change that.” Gethrow leaned down and placed a heavy kiss to her forehead, “I know you need some time to figure this out.” The orc cupped her jaw but didn’t place a kiss to her lips. He turned and moved to go back to the fire.

 “Wait!” Kurora took hold of his wrist as he turned and pushed her fingers underneath the leather and bead bracelet around Gethrow’s wrist, holding him in place.

“What is it?” He asked, turning his dark eyes on her once again.

Kurora had once compared his eyes to coal, but now she saw them more as onyx gems, “I wanted to…say I’m sorry.” She confessed as she wrapped her arms around his middle again, “I’m no good at this and you could have chosen so many better women than me. And…”

“And?” He asked, gentle as he tilted her head up again, “You have something weighing on your mind. I can tell. My crow doesn’t bow her head for anyone.”

“I’ve never done this before, Gethrow. I’ve never even been with a man, let alone done anything couples would do.” Kurora confessed, her cheeks burning in embarrassment, “I thought for so long that you were just playing with me…trying to get the ugly girl to make a move so you could leave me and laugh.” She spat.

“Never.” Gethrow gently took hold of her hips, “I love you, Kurora. I wouldn’t be courting you otherwise.” He placed his hand at the back of her neck and swiped his fingers into her black hair, gently playing with the ends.

 Kurora didn’t remember crying, but she rubbed the tears away quickly before taking a deep breath and leaning up to place a soft kiss to his lips. The orc responded gently, his short tusks rubbing against her bottom lip. She pulled away but before she could say anything Gethrow sealed their lips together again, taking the lead as he gently coaxed her to follow his rhythm, his tongue tapping forwards before Kurora hummed and parted her lips. They remained lip locked until Gethrow pulled away. Kurora giggled at the wet ointment smeared on his lips. Gethrow grinned and wiped it away before he carefully took hold of Kurora under her thighs and lifted her up. He slotted the slight woman against him before he turned to the bed and laid her back against the furs, leaning to catch her lips again as he softly stroked at her sides, his rough fingers tracing obscure patterns over her ribcage.

“Can we go slow?” Kurora asked softly as Gethrow settled himself between her legs.

“Of course.” Gethrow kissed at her cheek before he slid his hands down. On reflex Kurora bucked her hips upwards as his fingers dipped under the large shirt she was in, teasing the soft skin of the bottom of her belly, “Ah. After your sulking, I think you better behave.” He rumbled.

 Kurora felt her spine go hot as she moved her hips again, driving her hips towards Gethrows. The orc grinned at her before he snapped his hand against her stomach and pinned her down to the bed.

“Are you going to be good, little crow?” Gethrow hummed as he traced the outline of her breasts, “Keep yourself still and I’ll rewards you, okay?” He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her tummy before he dragged her shirt up and off, admiring the scars that littered her skin, kissing each one on his way to her chest. Kurora raised her hands to let him drag the oversized shirt free and she shuddered as she was bared to him in nothing but her underwear. Her breasts rose and fell as Gethrow eased his way back to her underwear, kissing the scars and rubbing his tusks into the sensitive skin before he dragged them down her legs.

“Beautiful.” Gethrow praised before he dragged his hands over her thighs and watched her spread her legs. He was caught in a trance as her fingers dipped between the puffy lips of her sex and spread it wide for him to see the flushed pink flesh inside.

 Her snickering broke him from his trance, and Gethrow was quick to reassert his dominance, grabbing her wrists in one of his hands before he placed them firmly over her head again. The orc gave her a glower before he kissed her again and teased his fingers over her opening, back and forth. When she bucked her hips, he pushed his palm to her pelvis and watched her writhe, her legs pinned wide with his thighs. Kurora whined behind her teeth as she was held in place. Gethrow’s tusks dragged over her stomach again before he pushed a single finger against her.

“Have you ever…”

Kurora looked at him with a frown, her cheeks red, “Of course I’ve touched myself before!” She yelped before letting out another whine as he pushed his finger inside of her for the snide remark. It pressed against her walls for a moment before Gethrow slowly plunged it in and out and then settled into a gentle rhythm, working her open as he settled her nerves with soft, warm kisses against her scarred skin. Slowly, the feeling grew closer and closer to an end, and Kurora writhed against her lover’s strong grip, her fingers twisting in his grip, stroking at the skin of his fingers, trying to weasel her way into touching him as well.

 “Please, can I touch you?” She asked meekly. Gethrow’s dark eyes met hers before he kissed her lips again and released her hands. Kurora moaned softly as he pressed another finger into her, scissoring them before he touched his thumb to her clit. Her hands flew to his chest, kneading at the strong muscles, dragging her finger through the hair on his body as he pressed one more finger inside her. She huffed at the fullness, wiggling backwards until Gethrow pinned her and watched her eyes go wide as pleasure pulsed down her spine. He let her breathe and pressed a kiss to each of her breasts before he sucked a nipple into his mouth. She started at the sensation, tugging at his dreadlocks, whining in overstimulation.

“Did that feel good?” Gethrow kissed her lips again before he reached and tugged his cotton trousers down, the laces dragging over his thighs as he revealed what was between his legs.

 “Mmm. It did.” Kurora’s eyes widened at the sight of Gethrow’s erect member, “By the gods…Will that even fit?” She gasped softly as Gethrow spread her legs again, holding her knees open as he settled himself back over her. His cock nudged at Kurora’s entrance and she melted back against the bed, “I trust you.” She promised.

Gethrow leaned down to kiss her, “Tell me if it hurts.” He whispered by her ear as he held her softly, lining himself up with her entrance before they took a breath together and he slid forwards slowly inside of her. Kurora felt her eyes go bleary as Gethrow held her and kissed at her skin, easing himself inside of her wet heat with ease.

“That’s… enough.” She huffed into his ear, “I can’t…” She sniffled as he thrust but kissed him again, clutching at his shoulders as he set a steady rocking rhythm, thrusting in and out of her with whispered praises.

“I love you.” Gethrow uttered after a kiss before he groaned and stuttered.

Kurora lifted her hips and stroked her fingers against his pointed ears, “I love you too, Gethrow. I do.” She felt herself plunge over the edge and moaned hotly against his shoulder before she felt Gethrow twitch inside of her.

“You’re amazing, beautiful…I love you.” He rumbled as he captured her chin and kissed her again, his hips coming to a stop as he moaned into her mouth.

 The two parted after panting against each other, but Kurora made sure to push herself into Gethrow’s side, her fingers tracing the muscles around his ribcage as she laid back and soaked in the heat he kicked out.

“Did you mean it?” She whispered to him, “You love me?”

Gethrow kissed her hair tenderly, “More than anything.” He promised against her skin.

“I love you too.” She murmured into his chest, “Thank you…For everything Gethrow. For putting up with me too.”

Sleepily, he tucked her under his arm, “Shh then. Let’s rest. We have to leave tomorrow.”

Kurora nodded against him tiredly, tears drying on her cheeks as she smiled and held her lover closer.

[exittotheartscape]

Happy (Early) Halloween!

It’s wild that Halloween’s tomorrow, to be honest, but I managed to finish something in time to celebrate! A continuation of my story from last year’s Halloween!

Link to Part 1 (I put a little recap before this second part of the story though, in case you just want a quick refresher, but the link to the first part is here as well)

Recap time! :

Maxi and Marie have reached a town in the mountains. While Marie stays back at the inn, Maxi goes out to resupply their food. To his surprise, a festival is going on. Nice!

There are also mice soldiers at the festival. Not nice!

Hiding in a shop with a large collection of furniture and candles, Maxi accidentally knocks over a display and breaks it. Then he faints. Then he can...feel...stuff....again?

Correlation or causation? Who knows? Certainly not Maxi.

Now, let the story begin!

-----------

On the floor of a dark, candle-lit store, Maxi was failing to freak out in silence.

“What just...what the hell happened to me?” Maxi frantically turned his hands in front of his face, expecting them to turn back into wood at any moment. The candlelight illuminating the cloth of his gloves made it clear that this was not the case.

Sitting against a wall, back hunched and hands shaking, Maxi began to notice he was breathing heavily...that he was breathing at all. He looked to see the cloth of his jacket rise and fall, and beneath it, unseen but felt, a beating heart.

An ecstatic, disbelieving smile cracked across his face. Despite himself he began to laugh, the sound tumbling from his mouth and shaking his body. The feeling of a laugh was one he hadn’t known he’d missed.

He was a human again. 

Not a nutcracker, not a wooden body denied rest and warmth, not some cursed soldier. 

He was himself!

...

But...how?

As far as Maxi knew, the only way to lift such a spell was to go to the source, in this case being the magical powers held by the Mice Royal Family. Considering the town he now found himself in was a long ways off from the castle (and the obvious fact that the Mouse King wouldn’t want to lift his curse in the first place), how was this even possible?

A prickling sensation cut through Maxi’s hand, and he remembered the glass shards scattered across the floor. His eyes followed the trail to its origin, a round wooden frame. No... not a frame, a mirror, which now lay on its side in a pile of its own glass. The shards still clinging to the frame copied and split his face, the reflection scattered like an overturned puzzle.

Though he didn’t know how, Maxi had a suspicion the shattered mirror was what had fixed him. Gazing at it now he remembered, as he had fallen, the strange feeling of sleep that had overtaken him. It had felt oddly familiar. The wave of sleep that had washed over him was one he had felt before, nearly 20 years ago…

It was at this moment it occurred to Maxi that whoever owned this store might not be too pleased to find their belongings broken into pieces. And, from his experience, an angry magician was not someone he wanted to come up against.

So, too freaked out to consider looking into the source of his transformation, Maxi gathered his wits and slipped out of the darkened store.

----------

It was getting late, and Marie was getting hungry.

The young girl had spent the time since Maxi’s departure with her face planted into a pillow, too tired to move yet too stubborn to get under the covers. The inn was fairly quiet, with only the occasionally creaking of floorboards rising from neighboring rooms. A second sound could be faintly heard from outside the window, like the chattering of a crowd, though Marie wasn’t sure if her tired mind was just imagining it.

He’s been gone for a while, hasn’t he? How long does it take for someone to go grocery shopping, anyway?

Marie let out a heavy sigh through the pillow. He must have really wanted a break from her, hadn’t he? Not that she didn’t appreciate having time away from him as well, but…

Something had begun to nag at the back of Marie’s mind, similar to the feeling she got when trying to listen in on the adults’ conversations at her parent’s dinner parties: she had the irritating notion that she was misinterpreting the situation.

Maybe she had wanted a break from her traveling companion, but that wouldn’t have been enough to motivate Maxi to leave for so long a time. He was always looking over his shoulder, after all, despite Marie’s obviously claims that he should lighten up. If he hadn’t been able to find an open grocery at this hour, then he would have come back to the inn and tried again in the morning.

...Huh, that’s actually pretty smart. Good job, me.

Marie lifted herself into a sitting position, stretching her legs out as she reached for her slippers. If Maxi had gotten himself into some sort of mess, then it was her job to get him out of it. Maybe then he’d start seeing her as “sensible” or “competent” or any of those other words he’d said after that time she’d knocked his hat off with her slingshot.

At that thought, a smug grin set itself onto Marie’ face as she went to unlock the door.

----------

Maxi had managed to slip between some of the homes in the square, sheltering himself from the eyes of the mice soldiers. They seemed to have halted their patrol to continue enjoying the festivities, and he could spy them once again by the treat tables, laughing and tapping their feet to the music. With that, Maxi let out a soft sigh of relief.

He had calmed down significantly since leaving the shop, and was now trying to piece together a plan. How was he supposed to get back to the inn? He wasn’t a Nutcracker anymore, which made things significantly easier, but he was still from out of town. That could draw unwanted attention.

Guess my first step should be to look as normal as possible.

Maxi took off his jacket and flipped it inside-out, the vibrant red- and-gold of the outer fabric revealing a faded pink-and-yellow underside. He didn’t have a hat to worry about, thankfully (he supposed he had to be grateful to that idiotic thief Aurick for that). His gloves were easy enough to shove into his pockets, though he had to pick off a few clinging shards of glass from them. A simple change of appearance, yet one that helped hide the telltale design of his newly-restored uniform.

As for his sword…

Maxi paused as he held the sheathed weapon in his hands, the blade pulled out slightly as he contemplated his choices. He could take it with him, he supposed, he had brought it with him from the inn after all. But...for some reason, he felt the urge to leave it behind. He kept his eyes on the blade, watching it reflect the lantern light from the square.

It might be best to just leave it here. I doubt anyone will notice if I hide it behind some barrels, and I can just pick it up in the morning before we leave! I didn’t want the mice seeing me with a weapon, anyway.

Maxi let out a quiet laugh. Yeah, what was there to worry about? He had been through worse, he just had to trust his gut and he’d be fine.

Maxi set his sword down gently between a cluster of wooden casks, straightened his jacket, and walked towards the alley’s entrance. He allowed himself to grin again as he joined the throng of toys and humans alike.

It was nice to smile without the restrictions of a fixed jaw.

If Maxi hadn’t been so distracted by his own thoughts, however, he would have paid more attention to his sword. The way it had reflected his face as wooden, with rosy cheeks and painted eyes.

----------

Marie had been right, she had heard a crowd!

Marie had wandered through the streets, guided by the lanterns overhead as she made her way towards the laughter bubbling up from the town square. She had taken her time in doing so, and if you had gone up to ask her why she would have said it was because she was looking for Maxi, of course.

Really, though, she was simply taking in the sights.

Her hometown held a festival each winter, a market selling scarfs and treats and other gifts for Christmas. The atmosphere in this mountain-nestled village mirrored what she felt whenever the market came around, and it was easing her homesickness. It was comforting.

Yet, at the same time, it all felt so different. The music had a tinkling sound to it, as if the air were filled with hundreds of twirling chimes. The lanterns overhead had a different design than the ones back home, and Marie had kept her head craned upward for most of her walk as she stared, enthralled. Pieces of reflective glass bounced the candlelight all about the streets, and the glass itself was set in swirling patterns. 

When she finally reached the square, Marie had almost forgotten her original task. As she watched the swirling dancers with colored glass on their costumes, she was wearing a wide grin. She was glad she had left the inn, otherwise she would have missed out on the fun!

She wasn’t completely forgetful, however. Staring into the crowd of townsfolk, she remembered that she had to be on the lookout for one face in particular. She closed her eyes, took in a determined breath, and gave a little nod.

“Alright, Marie, ready to be responsible?”

With that, she joined the noise of the square.

[wildmoonflower]

These dreams are made of tears

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: AU where you share your dreams with your soulmate and yours turns out to be very kind, sad, hurt and insecure Avenger Warnings: Depression, mentions of self-harm, sensitive topic(death), swearing  but also some fluff Warning 2: I got carried away and the word-count ended up being 12K...I'm sorry A/N: This is my piece for writing challenge for @afewmarvelousthoughts on a prompt n.16: 'Don't leave me. Not now.'

@afewmarvelousthoughts Thank You again for understanding my situation of needing longer deadline. I hope You enjoy this :) I also take criticism so I would be really glad for one, it would help my writing :)

With a sharp gasp for air, you wake up with a jerk, pj's shirt drenched in sweat, comforter crumpled at your feet showing rough night. Today, dreams of your soulmate were just as intense as always. With a groan, you sat up on the bed, rubbing your tired eyes. Pink, purple and red light of the dawn was slowly filling your room was not reflecting the mood you were in, tired and so not ready for work. It was clear that restless night was a omen of a shitty day before you. After you got up from bed, you noticed the charger not properly plugged in the outlet, leaving your phone on weak 30%, you were running out of toothpaste with no spare under the sink and coffee taste bad for some reason. You could feel tension in your body slowly add up. 

Dreams of your soulmate were intense tonight, much worse than last few days, which left you wondering what happened that made bloody horrors to come back. Darkness, screams, heavy scent of blood were so strong, so real it made your skin crawl. And yet, the worst was a hand, your hand, covered by black glove, holding a gun. Weight of the gun was unbearable but your hand was holding it tightly, pointed on the blurry figures, that wailed and trashed, faces unknown to you. You couldn't watch anymore but when a cold voice shouted from behind, your hand,  hand of your soulmate rised up, finger pulling the trigger. 

Sound of your phone pulled you out of your reminiscing. "Shit!" You exclaimed, looking at the screen. The alarm that warned you you had last 10 minutes before you have to leave for work has gone off. At this point, you don't have time for make-up, even thought it is usually just a few swipes of mascara and lip balm. As fast as you can, you get dressed in comfortable clothes and sprint out of your small apartment. Working in a Caffee, you were responsible for opening the place after checking if everything is in place, normal start of a week. 

Rounding the corner, you collided with a strong body of a man, making you stumble and if it wasn't for a muscular arms grabbing you by your hips, you would be kissing the concrete. "Woah, easy there." Deep voice sounded from up above, hint of amusement clearly because of your shocked face. Looking up, warm brown eyes stared at you, one corner of the lips turned up, visibly suppressing himself from laughing. 

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking." You blurted out, offering apologetic smile to dark-skinned man in front of you. Behind him stood a man with a polite smile. Looking at them, you noticed both of them were in simple jogging clothes, man who you crushed into clearly much more sweaty and tired than his friend, who didn't look even fazed. Your brows creased, their faces were somewhat familiar but before you could place them, your phone beeped again, snapping you out of another trance. "I'm sorry, I have to go to work right now. Once again, please, excuse me." You apologized, running away full speed, giving two men no time to answer, knowing that owner will be already there, most likely in his normal stance of exasperated dad. 

Living in Manhattan, NYC, was mostly nice and relatively calm. Or at least when aliens were not raiding the town in lead of crazed demi-god. The Caffee-ironically named Safehaven-was very close to the Stark Tower, now known as Avengers Tower and when huge portal opened, you were at your shift, ushering small group of customers in the kitchen before a police came and took them to safety. Noticing a small kid, hiding under the table, you went back, not realizing that everybody already left in hurry. Staying in unlocked place was as dangerous as out in the streets, but you took your change in the back-alley, hoping for no monster to be there. And for sure, you heard a crushing sound of breaking glass from inside the shop, followed by a sound of growls and brawl. Not making even four steps further, three Chitauri warriors busted through, shooting at a red-haired woman. By then, you were in full panic mode, almost throwing small boy behind the dumpster just to hide him from the brutal sight in front of you. Unfortunately, the movement drawn the attention of the Chitauri monster. Before you could move a muscle, petite woman kicked the monster from behind, shooting him from a strange stick-like weapon, other staff rolling to your leg. __ "Are you okay?" She asked, calmly wiping the blood from her busted lip as if she just didn't kick ass to a bunch of aliens. You nodded your head, still speechless as you noticed one of the Chitauri get back up, weapon in hand, aiming at red-head's back. Without hesitation, you picked up the staff by your feet and shoot the monster, by some miracle not the woman who barely flinched, just spun on the heel to round-kick the twitching body away. "Well, thank you for that." With a quick stride, she trudged to you, taking the staff from your stiff hands and motioning the boy to come out. "I'm Natasha, nice to meet you." "Y/N, my name is Y/n." Your voice finally came back, shaking your hand with petite beauty before you. "I guess it's me who is grateful. That was awesome." "I guess we are almost even. Let's get you two to safety." With that, Natasha carefully led you to nearest group of police officers, who were shouting orders´. Not long after the centipede-like monsters poured out of the sky, you could see Hulk, Iron Man and Thor take down one and then move towards the Tower. You were nervous, you knew Natasha was out there, risking her life to stop the extraterrestrial madness and sent countless number of prayers to anything, anyone that was above. And sure enough, the talk about Avengers rose, the group of remarkable people, who swore to fight the battles normal citizen never could. 

You were not late, thanks to mad dash you made and your head being in the cloud, you were surprised you were not hit by a car or toppled by a cyclists in rush hour. The owner, Mr. Goodman, indeed stood like a bouncer, watching your arrival with squinted eyes. "Y/N, I hope you have a good reason why my shop is still not ready to be opened? It's a rule that is set to maintain some level of order," Older man looked at you, noticing dark circles under your eyes, deep sigh fell from his lips, "another tough night?" 

"They were...intense." You nodded, apologetic smile on your face. You loved Mr. Goodman, that man took you under his wings and gave you steady job when you couldn't stand pitying eyes of your family and moved out, even helped you find an apartment with reasonable rent. At first, owner looked like a tough criminal, scar on the cheek, hair in a buzz cut and tattoos of various monsters covering both hands. After knowing him, you find out he loves to read, has a passion in brewing coffee and cooking and tends to stray cats and dogs in the back-alley, which gets him into a fight with his wife, who knew they can have only so much pets at home. 

"Nothing I can't handle. Just a minute, I will open the store right away." You quickly changed the topic and begin to work. Mondays, as always, are hectic and first customers comes in with almost zombie-like manners, in desperate need of caffeine. Day was going slow and you could not wait for Jessica, sweet university girl who worked a few hours after school. Lack of sleep was catching up in full force, resulting in strong case of resting bitch-face, which tended to get you in occasional trouble. 

Around 4PM, an hour when shop was the least busy, a familiar face popped in. "Nat! Oh my God, you're back!" You rushed towards black Widow, who smiled let you give her a bear hug, patting your head with her free hand. "When did you came back?" You asked, not noticing other three people standing behind her, watching your interaction curiously. 

"Yesterday, late at night." Male voice replied and a certain archer stood next to Natasha, ruffling your hair. "We said not to worry, if I remember right." He laughed at your attempt to jab him in the ribs. "Missed you too, Y/N/N." "Well, I always worry so I stopped listening to you." You smirked but leaned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Shortly after the attack, Natasha came to the shop again, this time with Clint, with who you immediately clicked. You loved the seemingly carefree man, who often acted dumb. You called out the bullshit on that, as you had the chance to witness the wits, quick thinking and impeccable instinct. "I'm glad to see you back, Clint." 

"Stop hogging her to yourself, Clint." Natasha nudged Clint with her foot, putting a hand around your waist and pulled you to her side. "Y/N, this is Sam and James. They work with us. Guys, this is Y/N, the one I have talked about before." She motioned towards two men, who silently watched previous conversation. Your eyes widened at the sight of a man from the morning. 

"Hey, we met this morning." You blurted out, making Sam laugh and extend his arm to you, which you awkwardly shook. Never in your dreams could you imagine meeting an Avenger in such inelegant way. "Sorry, again, for almost manhandling you." Looking behind him, your breath hitched at the sight of the last man, James. Somewhere deep in your stomach squeezed and an unknown feeling washed over you. Man before you was tall, dark hair long and kinda unkept. He was looking at you but because of the cap, you couldn't see his face clearly, just a dim spark in eyes and a few-days-old stubble. His whole body showed exhaustion and some sort of fragility that made your heart skip a beat. Now you have realized all of them had a cap on, trying to conceal their identities, which still surprised you that it mostly worked. "Hi," you said softly and listening to the quiet voice in your head, you made and slow step towards him, extending your hand to him, "nice to meet you. Probably everything she said was a lie." You grinned a little and heard Nat scoff behind you. 

James looked at your hand and shook it in the gentlest manner. "Only the good things and praises." He answered, voice gruff and low. "So, lies." You joked, earning a soft chuckle from him that made goosebumps go crazy on your back. Tracking your eye down, you notice his left arm covered in black glove, while his right hand was not. James shifted on his feet uncomfortably and you stepped back, playing it cool. "So, um, I guess you want to sit down and order. Or is it to-go?" You asked, looking around. 

"We will have it here. We'll take the corner table." Nat jerked her head to the table, around which were no customers. "When do you have your break? Come sit with us." She asked. 

You looked at the clock above the doors. "I can take it right now but I'm sure you guys want to have some quiet and peace for yourse-I wouldn't ask if we wouldn't want you there." She interrupted you, her tone of voice leaving no room for arguments. "Come when you take your things." You rolled your eyes on her, earning a toothy grin that gave you different kind of goosebumps than when James smiled. 

"Fine! Here are the menus, sit down, I'll give you time to pick." You shooed them to their table and went to Joe, another student trying to survive college without starving. "Joe, I'm taking my break, if something is wrong, holler for me." You informed him and took your smoothie from the fridge. Working in a Caffee, after a while, it made your love for coffee decrease a little, finally pushing you to drink something healthier. "Okay, did you guys pick what you want?" You placed down your drink and the sandwich Mr. Goodman made for each of his employees. "I'll take Long Black with three shots of Espresso." James said, closing the menu you've handed him earlier. One glance at Nat and Clint and you knew it was their usual so you turned your attention to Sam, who smiled at you in toothy grin, handed you the menu. "Americano for me." 

After passing the orders to Joe, you finally sat down beside Natasha. "You look awful, Y/N. You look like a panda bear with those bags." She scolded with Clint nodding his head who calmly sipped from a steel cup, most probably his own coffee mix, which one time made you shake for three hours and sweat bullets while shaking like a leaf in the wind. How he was still alive with the amount of caffeine intake without suffering an heart attack, that was beyond you. 

"Speak for yourself, all of you look like you could use some sleep." You said but the pointy look from a pair of assassins told you your distraction didn't work. "I couldn't sleep last night." You sighed silently to Natasha, who too lowered her voice. She didn't bother to tell you that James, who was bickering with Sam, could hear every single word you two muttered. 

"Your soulmate?" All you could do was to let out a bitter laugh:" Of course. My soulmate either loves action movies and relives them in his dreams or he is actually a freaking psychopath or a hitman." You laughed out, sounding little bit hysterical. 

That is how this world worked. Since forever, two people, destined for each other, could see the dreams of one another. It was a strange sensation, as if two different tapes were playing in your head. Your dreams always felt different, as if watched from afar, while the dreams of your soulmate were pulling you in. During the early years of childhood, you had no dreams whatsoever, what nobody took seriously, maybe your soulmate was a little kid still too. But soon, it changed. Nightmares, horrible images filled your nights, leaving the small you terrified, terrified of the world, of people and cruel words behind seemingly kind faces. Just as quickly the nightmares came, they have disappeared, leaving your mind in disarray. You had some peace for a few years, until one night, when you have woken up, drenched in sweat, screaming your lungs out at horrific images . Depression kicked in, leaving your family heart-broken at the sight of a barely teen girl, shivering under the covers. That's how it went, for every few years, the dreams of your soulmate came back, every time making your night living Hell, resulting in insomnia and depression. 

To that, Natasha had nothing to say, just an empathetic pat on the back that made you feel bad. She has confessed that her soulmate died long time ago, as dreams of her other half simply disappeared. Despite that, she never let that define the relationships she had, as you knew of her 'chummy time' with Bruce Banner, as Clint called it, not in front of her, of course. Even after years of friendship and having each other's back, he knew better than to make fun of her or a man, whose problem tends to turn big and green. Forcing yourself to smile, you turned to James and Sam, who were silently bickering about something, catching words 'tin foil man', 'Steve', running' and 'left'. "So," you said, taking a small bite of your sandwich," do you have any missions planned now? Or do you actually have something magical called a leisure time?" 

"Stark is planning a big party tomorrow. Is it considered leisure?" Clint asked, earning a disgusted face from Bucky. "No, it's not, because of course, all big shots are going to be there, trying to get all friendly with him or Captain." Clint mumbled and you huffed a laugh, remembering when he confessed you that only parties most of the Avengers enjoyed were with less people, Avengers and closest friends at the best. 

Nat, suddenly grabbed you hand, big grin on her face made your skin crawl, you already knew you were not going to like what she was about to say. "Day after tomorrow, keep it free." Horror filled your guts as you knew what she was planning. Turning your full attention to red-head beside you, you spouted the first thing that came to your mind. 

"I have something planned already that day." Trying your hardest not to break eye contact, you could feel the sweat slowly build on your forehead, a normal reaction to the pointy look that felt like thousand needles moving under your skin, a reaction that Nat could easily evoke in an instant. Leaning forward in her seat, she squinted her eyes, not uttering a word, you knowing what was about to come. "Okay, I don't, stop doing that." You peeped, making others laugh. "Nobody is going to believe a lie just because you do not break your eye contact. Not moving or blinking is the same as confessing. You also started to tweak your palm. Plus, you are like the worst liar I've ever met." Natasha counted all mistakes while leisurely sipping on her drink. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after your shift, we will go to buy you something that will fit Stark's dress code expectations." 

Despite knowing how annoying Nat found whimpering, you couldn't help it but let a small groan escape your mouth. "Nat," you nudged her with leg, "you know I hate parties, especially with lots of loud and most importantly, unfamiliar people around." "Too bad, I already told Stark you are my plus one." Not so pleasant answer made you sad and annoyed all the same, determined Natasha was harder to stop than an enraged bull. 

Unknown to Y/N, her little quarrel with Black Widow was overheard by Bucky, who couldn't help but feel relieved by the outcome. At least, another relatively normal person will be there, one more person to talk to when Steve or Sam will get called over. He still disliked being at those parties, incessant feeling of being watched and the wall slowly closing in on him still gave him panic attacks, but as he was reminded by Tony, all Avengers must be present, as a form of apology for the damage they caused on the last mission. Watching Y/N as she sprawled herself on Nat, pursing her lips in pouty way, with Sam and Clint telling her they will be there for her, he had a feeling they will find each other at the party when the time comes. "I shouldn't have sit with you." "Too late, Honey."

Stark's idea of small party was something like a 'Nightmare Exclusive' for you. What felt like whole city was before Avenger Tower, either trying to will their way in or simply to catch a glimpse of the mightiest heroes. It was next to impossible for you to get close and you still had your doubts of how you will get through the security as Nat was not picking up her phone. You were no celebrity to be recognized, nor have you ever made it public that you know one of the Avengers. Despite that, as you got close, one of the men, his name tag shown name Hogan, pushed through the crowd to you and bent down a little, helping you hearing him through the cacophony of music, honks of the cars and screaming voices. "Miss Y/L/N?" Your shocked face must have assured him of his right guess as he put his hand on the small of your back, softly pushing you towards the doors. Your face burned bright red as you heard angry whispers of people waiting in the line. "Ignore them. Pompous a-holes will always be a-holes, they should taste what it feels like to be made wait." Happy said, now much relaxed as two of you entered the reception, noise from the outside almost non-existent. 

"Is it wise to talk like that when Mr. Stark is your employer?" You asked amused, already liking the man walking slightly ahead of you. "And, how did you know me?" 

He looked over his shoulder, a small smirk formed on his mouth. "I stand my ground." He mumbled and stopped before the elevator: "Miss Romanoff made it clear she has a plus one and has shown me your picture. "Pushing the button, he turned around and began to leave, helping the men with the chaos outside, "Just ask Friday to get you to top floor." He said over his shoulder and rolled them as he stepped outside, as if to appear taller or scarier, or both. You smiled at the sight, he reminded you of that one uncle who thinks he is big and tough while being a total sweetheart with a slight potty mouth. 

With a soft click, doors opened and you stepped inside. "Umm, top floor, please?" You asked into the space as you noticed no buttons and surely, a female voice answered, making you jump: "Right away, Miss Y/L/N." You chuckled to yourself as you remembered Natasha telling you about A.I Tony Stark created. Elevator was spacious, one side fully covered with mirror, giving you time to check yourself the last time. Your make-up was very light, you never liked to waste too much time in front of the mirror but you felt the pressure to cover yourself a little bit more than usual for this kind of 'once-in-a-lifetime' event and your hair... you were too lazy to do something fancy as you just washed them and attached a few small hairpins. The dress, that was something you would you yourself would never bought if it wasn't for a certain red-haired that occasionally had a scary scowl on her face. One side sleeveless but the material connected to another hand with 3/4 length sleeve, showing off your collarbones. The camisole was tight on the skin and several layers of soft chiffon went down in bit more loose skirt. In soft flow from the knee height, an intricate lace swirled upwards, creating a design of a flowing water from a certain angle. The dress was too much but seeing the way Nat's eyes twinkled, you just hadn't had the heart to say no to her. You were lucky the shop had it in your favorite color and the material was soft and comfortable. You made it very clear to Nat, comfort over style was your motto, you hated uncomfortable clothes with passion. You had a thin necklace on your neck, beautiful thin silver chain with a tiny pendant, a small black widow spider standing on the rose, Nat's present to your birthday. Your wrists were covered by a delicate lacy fingerless gloves that reached about the middle of your forearm, covering the parts of you you have never shown to other people, not even Nat.

"Top floor." A.I, Friday, announced and opened the doors, giving you just enough time to take a deep breath. The room before you was...overwhelming. Tables with food stood against the wall and right next to it was a bar that you knew Nat will dominate later on. Everything looked expensive, even a small pouffes looked more pricey than half of your apartment. Few people were walking around, carrying various stuff, most probably doing the finishing touches before the mayhem begins. Taking a few steps into the room, you immediately gets fascinated with the view. The sun was slowly setting down, painting the sky with many shades of red, blue and yellow, a gentle hue of ending day with a city in the background, slowly waking it's lights. 

You watched the distant skyline, clutching the phone in your hand, still no answer from Nat. It made you remember the parties you went to younger, with the only friend present that later left you to stand on the sides, waiting for them to come back and save you from the awkward standing around. "Can I help you Ma'am?" A deep voice asked from behind you, making you jump as you have not heard any footsteps. Turning around, you are suddenly standing face-to-face with Captain America. Advertisements and pictures did him no justice and as he stood before you in black jeans and navy blue button-down shirt that was a size or two smaller, looking more buff and taller than you imagined from what you saw in Smithsonian. 

His face was calm and polite, a pleasant smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes completely, as they held a slight guarded, careful look. "Uhh," you made your best 'intelligent' sound and took a step back, also because looking him in the eyes was ruining your neck, "I came here for the party. I'm Natasha's plus one?" You stammered, baby blue eyes on you felt like as if you were under an X-ray or hooked to a polygraph. This was NOT how you imagined meeting America's Man from the past and before you had a chance to excuse yourself and bail, another male voice sounded from behind Rogers, this time you knew the deep bass with a warm, fun undertone. 

"Who you got over there, Captain?" Sam asked, appearing on the blond's left, smile widening at the sight of you. "Y/N! Glad to see you didn't back out of this." He exclaimed and gave you a big hug, as if you two were friends for years. "And risk Black Widow's anger to rain upon me? I'll rather handle a few snobs for a few hours." You joked as you hugged Wilson back. Knowing Sam Wilson for three days was enough for you to already like the presence of metal-winged superhero. After you two met, he came to the café again with James, filling your time with stories about Avengers while his friend simply listened, adding a quiet remarks here and there. "So, where is Nat? Or Clint? Don't tell me he is trying to hide in the vents again." 

"He tried but Natasha alerted Stark who clogged the vents from air supply." Another voice said. Just as Captain, James made no sound walking even when dressed in formal boots. "Y/N," he softly smiled in greetings and looked back at his friend, "Stark has something to talk about with you, Steve." When James Buchanan Barnes talked to his hero friends, he talked louder, more confident, so different when he talked to you, so quiet and soft, as if afraid he could frighten or hurt you with words alone. Of course, by now you knew who James was. Obviously you have heard about Winter Soldier but after the Triskelion rising to the skies, you completely stopped concerning yourself with whole Hydra/S.H.I.E.L.D. thing, except keeping the contact with Nat but you trusted her to be careful not giving out who she is nor who you are to her.

  "Evening, James." You greeted the man in return, discreetly eyeing his tall figure. There was no denying he was an eye-candy, dressed in black jeans and similar shirt as his friend, two-days scruff giving him rougher look you can't say you minded. What worried you were huge black bags under his eyes, so similar to yours. Clearing your throat, you turned to Sam who was watching you with that one-sided grin of his that made you roll your eyes. "Sam, can you take me to Nat? I'm going to kill her." You said in serious voice that made Falcon snicker and both Super-Soldiers look at you in shock. 

Putting his arm around your shoulder, he pushed you towards another elevator, this one bit smaller, looking like for more of a personal use. "Sure thing Y/N. Captain, Buck, see you in a bit." He said, calling the elevator, giving you time to turn a bit and wave at two men. "You didn't expect this many people? Don't worry, after two or three hours, it' mostly just Avengers and the closest friends." Sam continued mostly his monologue, another reason why you liked one of the most normal human in this place. "By the way, you look charming, Y/N, Nat went nuts with that shopping." He added, motioning to you, making you chuckle. "Thank you Sam, you don't look half-bad yourself." You returned the compliment but by the glint in his eyes, you knew you will regret saying anything. 

"But it seems you'd rather have someone bit broodier, or older to tell you that?" He teased and burst out laughing when you took a weak swing at him, "Calm it, Wilson, I have a pepper spray and I'm not afraid to use it." You warned him, dangling the small letter-purse in front of you. Sam raised his hands in mocked defense and got out of the elevator, pointing his finger in nearby room. "That's Nat's room, just knock, she should be inside. See you up there." And with that, he took off. 

Looking at Natasha, who was currently putting on heels, you felt under dressed. In her bright red evening gown that shown most of the back and hugged all the right curves of her body, you wanted to rip your dress from your body and bury yourself in her bed, to wait out the party that was about to start. Nat was not satisfied with your make-up and almost tied you to the chair, giving you 'some details' to your face that made you feel like it was not you anymore. 

"Help me with that, please." Nat turned her back to you, holding a thin necklace in her hand, her necklace with a small silver bow, showing her lasting friendship with Clint. Noticing your smile, she rolled her eyes: "Last time I forgot to put it on, Clint was pouting whole day. It was during a mission, it was kind of annoying." 

"Jesus," you muttered and helped her. Despite looking calm, you could see the sparks of joy in Nat's eyes, probably needing some distraction from work and party was exactly what she needed. Slowly, some of that enthusiasm crawled on you and you too, couldn't wait to meet other Avengers. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Stark is calling everyone in the main hall, party is about to start." Irish female voice warned you two. The zeal that was emitting from Nat almost shocked you, even after knowing her for a few years, you seldomly saw her break the careful mask completely. She was humming some old russian song that sounded like a nursery rhyme. Sneaking her hand around your hip, Nat

 squeezed you to her, a toothy grin full of enthusiasm lightening her face, pulling you towards the first beats of the music. "Let's go!" 

Meeting rest of the Avengers was going surprisingly smooth. Of course, Tony freaking Stark immediately tried to make you tell embarrassing tales of his two assassins. Thankfully, before you could panic and make a fool out of yourself or Clint and Nat, Pepper Potts came and dragged him away, giving you apologetic smile. You bumped into young looking red-head, who introduced herself as Wanda, and felt the connection almost instantly, not something you could say about the man with her, Vision, whose facial expression and way of talk made you nervous, despite being polite. Behind the bar stood Bruce Banner, polite with sense of humor that lots of people wouldn't notice. And lastly, you were officially introduced to Steve Rogers, who now was much more relaxed. With all that handsomeness and beauty around you, you were feeling overloaded, silently thanking that Thor couldn't attend, you doubted you could handle also meeting a God of Thunder.

Party itself went better than you thought it would. For your biggest relief, not that many people came, or better were allowed in. You were not left alone even for a second, with Nat either sticking close to you, glaring at every older man trying to flirt with you or simply dragging you over to bar to get shots. It was tough, despite the smaller frame, you were already feeling the buzz when she just started, laughing it off to her Russian genes. When Nat was called over, almost immediately, Sam, Wanda or Bucky with Steve appeared by your side.

 It was nice feeling, being around people who seemed so honestly nice. As time went, ices started to melt even more, you finding out more about the human beings that laid behind the masks of superheroes. Bruce was much more crazier than he let on, understandably forcing himself to be calm when around unknown people. Tony Stark... was almost batshit crazy and center of attention all the time, trying to make everyone feel welcome while teasing the heck out of them, while Pepper and James Rhodes, who appeared later with bad jokes, tried to save him from himself. Steve was the 'caretaker' of Avengers, making sure everybody behaves, trying his hardest to keep Sam and James, Bucky as he asked you to call him, apart but failed so as two were bickering like a two true brothers. Clint was a walking disaster but that was nothing new to you, as you have already had the pleasure of taking care of him and Nat, when they appeared in your apartment, smashed drunk. That day, Natasha used all your oils to fill the bathtub and bathe for four hours while singing old Russian songs that gave you chills and Clint pulled water balloons out of nowhere and was sniping misbehaving people from your balcony, screaming something in a sense of 'Caw caw, motherfuckers.' 

Around 1am, it was just you and superheroes sprawled across the room. Now Stark was behind the bar, mixing drinks for him and Bruce, using the fact that Pepper went ahead and went to bed. Bruce was nearby, head in clouds with slightly blushed cheeks and all giggles. The rest were hogging the sofas with Rogers standing behind the couch where Bucky sat with Sam, Wanda and Vision. You were on a smaller sofa, in the middle with Nat's hand wrapped around your shoulders and Clint, whose head was almost in your lap, looking ready to pass out for the night. You were content with the way the whole day went, knowing your dreams could be calm at the best. 

Having nightmares of your soulmate was not the worst thing. Now every night was a hurdle you could often not overcome. Your own dreams were treacherous too, flaring up your depressions before laying to the bed. You didn't know your soulmate but it broke your heart, knowing he won't find the serenity from your dreams neither. Tears often appeared before you fell asleep, fearing what kind of horrors awaitens both of you. But today, your mind was fuzzy with alcohol and you were happy, so happy to have been able to not only meet the heroes of the world, but also the people who made Natasha and Clint often so happy too. 

"Okay, it was a very nice meeting all of you but I think it's time for me to head home." You say aloud, making people turn and look at you. "It's quite late, darling. You can take the room next to Red. Or you can hop in with me." Tony said with a wink, sipping from his glass, ignoring the disapproving look from Steve. You chuckled, the flirtiness levels went up higher with every glass of whatever he was drinking. "Can it Stark, or I'm calling Miss Potts back. I live maybe twenty minutes from here, I will survive." You shot back, shaking your head and as you tried to stand up, two hands stopped you. Looking to your left, Clint was doing a puppy eyes, or better, was trying but the alcohol and sleepiness closed one his eyes halfway, making him look just very high. "Clint, no, don't make a puppy eyes, I have things to do tomorrow." You whined while everyone was laughing at Clint. "Nat, tell him, something, you are the wiser one-why the Hell do you do this to me?!" You exclaimed at the sight of your friend, doing so much better job of looking like a kicked puppy. Just the fact she was trying to look so meek was a clear sign just how much she was actually drunk, 'gonna-puke-and-be-very-grumpy-tomorrow' drunk. 

"That's hot look, Red. Friday, save that look in 'Blackmail' file-" Tony's speech was interrupted as Nat's hand flicked and a soft thumb was a sign the cushion hit the target despite the level of drunkenness. Nat cupped your face, ignoring everybody, smiled and whispered in somewhat sad voice: "Won't you stay tonight? You can sleep with me, Котенок(kitten). I may go for a mission soon." You have never seen Nat so soft and it rendered you speechless, so you could only nod, your eyes widening as she immediately smirked, all tenderness gone. "Natasha!!!" You screamed and pounced on her, huffing in annoyance as she grabbed your hands and pushed you down, sitting on you without a problem. "Why do I keep falling for that face?" You sigh, making everyone chuckle and Clint beside you to get up to his knees, giving you a big kiss on the cheek: "Because you are adorably trusting." 

"Fine! But I'm taking your Captain America pjms." You smile wickedly as she froze, while everybody burst out laughing, only Steve looking anywhere but at your direction with a pink flush on his cheeks and Tony who had hurt look on his face. You gave her those pjs about a year ago and she always wore it on your occasional girls night as a joke. "You just started a war you will not win, Y/N." Clint whisper-shouted at you, getting up, stretching up. "I'm gonna go to bed, you will need all the energy with those two around." That was a cue for most of the Avengers to scatter to their rooms, Tony being dragged by Rhodes, being shut after saying he needs to go to his lab. Bucky too, was half-dragged by Steve, his eyes suddenly tense, giving you tight-lipped smile before disappearing behind the elevator doors, his tension rubbing on you from an unknown reason. You felt happy but who knows what dreams will your soulmate have tonight? 

A pillow landed on your lap, making you almost jump out of your skin. "Come, you little traitor. We have a long day before us." Nat took your hand and pulled you off the sofa, her tight grip showing she could tell what's going on in your head. Elevator slowly opened as you sighed. "Hooray." 

Your hands were tied behind your back, pushed on your knees, eyes glued on the floor. Muffled screams and sniffs beside you made you aware of presence of other people. You were in a... living room, cozy and warm, with lots of pictures of a laughing family, board games stacked in the corner. Or it should be warm and cozy. Instead, a group of three men stood before you, dressed in black, one with a strange muzzle hiding his face. This dream, it was-it was different, the usual mist surrounding the figures was thinner, you could see the cold eyes and cruel smirks on their faces. Coming to you, a man raised his hand, smacking you across the face. "Face down, you shield-rat or I'm gonna pay my attention to your wife more." He growled, kicking you in the stomach, making you tumble over with a cough, the pain ever so real. "We don't take kindly to traitors, Weber, did you really think we didn't have you on our radar, you and your pathetic little family?" Man continued his monologue, stopping in front of a boy, barely in his teens, Weber's-your son. "You and your wife are worthless but we might take your son, after a good wiping, he should make a good asset." He laughed at your wife, who started to trash at his words, enjoying the despair. "Raspopov, enough. Take the boy, we have what we wanted." Second man said in bored voice, as if the malicious scene in front of him was nothing. He turned to the passive man behind him, "Get rid of them and clean this place. And make it slow for him." With that, he walked out of the door, Raspopov behind him with trashing boy being dragged by the collar of his shirt. A pained screams from your left were deafening, your wife tried to scurry her way to her son, only to be pushed down by the third man and without hesitation, a shot through her head made her body go limp. A roar, filled the room, by the scratching pain in your throat you knew it was you, Weber. A hand closed on you, gripping your throat and lift you in the air, fist colliding with your face, bone-shattering pain exploded in your head. This was new, never before you felt the pain, the anger and sadness so strongly. The blows were coming and coming, your body broken, thrown on the floor. Boots came in your line of sight, black combat boots were going to be the last thing you will ever see before you heard the cock of a gun. Silently begging for this to stop, you looked up, staring at you were two blue eyes, filled with equal pain and sadness, when the shot turned everything around you into a blackness. 

"Good morning." Natasha chimed at Steve and Bucky while pouring herself a cup of coffee. Super soldiers nodded their head, gulping down the water, still breathing hard from the morning run, while Sam looked ready to die, almost hugging the doors to the kitchen. "Y/N?" Sam squeezed in between the deep breaths, ignoring Bucky who was smirking at him. "Still asleep. I almost didn't get out, she is like an octopus, she wraps around you and drain your warmth until satisfied." She shaked her head. They ended up sleeping together, you wouldn't have Nat sleeping on the sofa and you wouldn't either since she made you stay a night. 

A groan entered the room with Clint, who looked like he was up the whole night. "I need a caffeine." He almost whimpered. Without missing a beat, Nat pushed his giant mug towards him, already filled with his share of coffee. "I hope you bunch didn't leave coffee beans in the sink again. I'm getting real tired of it." Tony entered the room, cranky as every morning with a mark of keyboard on his face he laid on. "Where is our cute guest?" He asked, pondering if to mix his coffee with a bit of whiskey. 

"Not a morning person. I let her sleep since she seemed to be calm-Miss Romanoff" She was cut by Friday, A.I voice pressing. "You are urgently needed in your room. Mrs. Y/L/N is suffering a severe nightmare." The message left the room in total silence, Natasha and Clint sprinting out in a second, before even Tony could open his mouth. 

"Friday, put on the screen and alert Bruce, we might need him." Tony ordered, no trace of fun in his voice. A touch screen rose from the table and revealed the image of a room. Rays of sun lightened the room in pink and orange hue, giving everything happy-go-lucky vibe. A very strong contrast to the sight on the bed, where Y/N laid, trashing around, a blood-curdling screams escaping her lips. "Jesus. I'm going there." Sam shot out, his knowledge in traumas and PTSDs giving him better outlook of what could help. On the screen, a door shut open, Nat and Clint sprinted towards the trashing friend, immediately taking her in her arms, Nat looked at Clint. "Get the wet towel and a bucket or something." She shouted, wincing when one flailing hand hit her just bellow the neck. "Y/N/N? Y/N, wake up, Котенок. It's okay, shh, you are safe." She cooed, the sound of her voice seemed to calm you a slightest bit. Taking a towel from Clint, she gently patted it against your forehead and down your neck, collecting the sweat you were drenched in. With a whimper, you woke up, gasping for air while pushing your hand to your ribs, as if she was in pain. 

"No, please, no, no no no no." You cried, eyes darting around the room, not focusing on anything, trying to pry away from Nat's embrace. You whimpered again as Clint took a step in front of you, taking your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. "Y/N/N, love, it's okay, it's just us. Look at us." He said in soft but resolute voice. "They killed them, Weber....that man, he took their son and kicked me and my wife...Raspopov punched me..." You blabbed, not making any sense, your mind still trapped with image of Weber's dead wife bleeding on the floor, blood and tears soaking in the carpet. Your cheek was slightly hit by a wet cloth, snapping you out of your trance, your eyes moved to Natasha, who held a dripping towel in her hand. "Don't talk, Маленький(Little one). Just breathe." She said, brushing your hair from your face. "I'm going to puke." You gagged and heaved over the bed, just in time for Nat to push the bucket in front of you, emptying your stomach. At the same time, Sam and Bruce arrived, rushing to your side. All four of them worked their way around you, Clint cleaning up the mess while Nat and Sam talked to you in hushed, soft voices, Bruce checking you pulse, eyes and temperature. 

The kitchen was silent. Tony and Steve stood side by side, both face filled with worry and pity. "Well, so much for a calm morning. Must suck, having unstable psycho for a soulmate." Tony stated, his voice much more silent, his knuckles white from the strength he was gripping his hands, remembering the time of his own nightmares which he used to wake up to, mixed with cries and panics of Pepper. Steve just nodded, his eyes found Bucky, eyebrow creasing. "Buck, are you okay?" He asked, gripping his friend's shoulder, taking in Bucky's horror-filled eyes, pale face and shaky figure. Nightmares were almost a constant visitor of Bucky's and he never took it well when anybody else had the same problem. "Buck! Breathe!" Steve shook his friend and looked in his eyes as he whispered: "Those names." Bucky breathed in as if he was sucker-punched in the stomach. Steve's face was confused for a second, eyes widening at his best friend when he realized his words. 

"Buck," he took him by arm, dragging him out, ignoring Tony's curious eyes, "do you know those names?" Putting his hand over his mouth, Bucky muttered, sounding nauseous and broken. "Raspopov was Hydra's main interrogator. Worse version of Rumlow. Weber was S.H.HI.E.L.D.'s double agent." Bucky raised his eyes in Steve's, self-resentment and disgust making Steve unable to react, "I killed him and his family." Before blond super-soldier could say something, the dark-haired one gripped his shoulder with his metal hand, enhancing the need in his eyes. "Steve, she can't know. Promise me, you will not tell her who I am!" His deep voice breaking at the thought, he could see the fear and disgust the second you would find out. 

For so long, Bucky thought he never had a soulmate. Back in 40's, he was heartbroken as he never experienced the feeling of sharing his dreams that everyone described. To diverse his mind from the pain in his heart, he dated a lots of girls, later watching as some of them met their soulmates, or how they left him in hope of meeting their destined one. Then his enlistment came, changing his life to a swirl of pain and years of emptiness. He still remembered so vividly the first time his dreams was not his only. Even the wiping chair couldn't stop his excitement when the swirling rainbow of colors and shapes appeared in his dreams and pure feelings, feelings of love, happiness, even repeating felling of hunger and soft anger made him snap out of his Winter Soldier trance. The beating he got that day almost killed him but he didn't care, his last thoughts before he was shoved into the chair was of his soulmate, his little soulmate who was just born, the feeling so strong he cried the first time in forever. And that little nub of happiness was his, regardless of number of wipings he went through. The dread and guilt he felt when he woke up the first time to the nightmare full of violence and pain and desperation, the nightmare that was not his and yet so similar, made him so sick even Stark looked mildly concerned. 

Disagreeing look on Steve's face was not a good sign, he knew 'the talk' was coming and rose to his feets, taking his leave. "Her knowing is not going to change anything, so I why not prevent the bigger heartbreak?" Bucky said bitterly. "That decision is not yours alone, Buck, she deserves to know. She might understand." Steve called after him but he met just silence. A presence behind Steve made him turn around, cold sweat breaking out as he noticed Tony standing in the doorway, his typical smirk somewhat bitter-looking. "Tony." Steve's warning tone was once again met with silence as Tony zipped his mouth with his hand, a gesture completely and painfully pointless when it came to Tony. Sighing, Steve ran a hand down his face. "You've got to be shitting me." 

Exiting her room, Nat stopped as Bucky turned around the corner, strange look in his eyes. "How's-how's Y/N?" He asked, looking somewhere above her eyes. "Bruce took her to infirmary, alcohol, puking and sweating made her heavily dehydrated so he will put her on IV drip. And give her something to calm down." Nat answered, eyes boring in Bucky's, making him squirm, even the former assassin couldn't help but be nervous being under Black Widow's radar. "She is suffering from nightmares long before I have met her and she tells me her dreams. If she will ever meet her soulmate and it will be some sadistic asshole, I'm most probably put a bullet through his brain." Nat's voice was casual, if not a little bit cold and her eyes were shining, challenging Bucky to say the truth she had a hunch about. 

"What are the chances she will meet him?" Bucky asked bitterly and turned back around, turned his back to the person he wanted but didn't deserve.

Few days passed after the party and your sleep-over faux pas. Apologizing profusely while leaving, everybody just waved it off, only asking about your health, Stark looking like he wanted to say something every time you made a short visit but changed his mind, unknown to you, due to James or Steve sending a death glare his way. Nightmares didn't stop, even got worse in some sense as now, as you guessed, they mixed with your own and the man with muzzle now killed your new made friends, making you call Nat and Clint more than ever. James started to come to your work more often too, sometimes with Sam in a tow, his big blue eyes full of concern that warmed your heart. Faint voice in your head seemed to always try to tell you something when tall super-soldier was around but you ignored it, something in you not wanting to hear it out, reveling in the ignorance. 

Days turned to weeks and Tony invited you to another party, Avengers and friends only. From Nat, you knew it was his way how to lift the mood in the Tower after a recent bad mission that made even Clint snarky and that was something you have rarely seen. Despite the circumstances, you gladly went. You liked being around Avengers, their friendship that went beyond just having each others back made the atmosphere around them warm. And you would be lying if you would say that you didn't miss a certain brown-haired soldier. 

With Nat going to missions more than often, Bucky now was your safe heaven, he was a smooth talker once you get to know him and his deep voice always made you forget your dreams, at least for a while. He told you about himself a lot, leaving the gruesome Hydra parts, but just as he never forced you to talk about your dreams, you never asked him more about his times as a asset. More than once have you thought he was your soulmate, more than once have you bit your tongue, stopping yourself asking the words. It wouldn't change anything, a person like him needed somebody stronger, less pathetic by his side, you thought, angry and disappointed at yourself. He wouldn't need a woman who became broken from the dreams of someone else. 

The party was held on the Friday night. Your bag was little heavier, prepared for the sleepover you knew you couldn't escape, not with Nat and her screenshot of a fancy bottle of Gin for you and Vodka for her she'd sent you. Getting in the Tower was not a painful procedure to you anymore, as now you were known by every receptionist and Friday, whom you asked to call you Y/N, now opened every door without asking and you were finally not jumping as a frightened cat every time she talked. The mood upstairs was better than you expected, most likely because a Norse demi-god was in the room, booming loud voice cheerful. You had met Thor before and even though Bucky was slowly taking over your mind, it was hard not to stare at the tall blonde who stood with his hand thrown around Tony's shoulder, making him look almost tiny. 

"Lady Y/N!" Thor called, making everyone turn their attention to you. Smile creeped on your face as a wave of greetings came your way, Natasha immediately handing you the glass that almost instantly burned your eyes a little and a quick peck on the cheek. Coming closer, Thor bent down and gave you a bear hug, all air leaving your body. "I was told you were coming tonight. How are you?" Above his slouched shoulder´, you noticed Steve, Sam and Bucky standing nearby, Sam and Steve looking at Bucky, who was watching you, smiling as your eyes met, repaying the small wave you sent him with your free hand. "Quite normal, Thor, just bit tired. How's space?" You laughed breathlessly, tapping his side to let you go. "Space is fine, feasts of Lithasblot are beginning soon. Or, midsummer, as you Midgardians call it." He smiled, taking a sip from his drink, from which even from afar, you could pick up the strong, very strong smell of alcohol. 

Going around, you made a quick circle around the room to say your 'Hi' to everyone, until you came to 'army group'. Nudging Bucky to the side, you grinned at the cup in his hand. "I thought alcohol has no effect on super-soldiers?" You asked, small 'oompf' escaping you as you took a sip from your own glass. "It does not but Thor brought some of his Asgardian stuff." He laughed, scrunching his nose in the most adorable way that made you stare. He was not laughing enough but with the brainfarts it gave you when he did, maybe it was a good thing. "Will we see you and Steve wasted tonight? Cuz I bet Stark is ready to record it anytime." You said slowly, trying to change your focus to his eyes, not making it any better. Maybe it was the alcohol but the usual soft blue was almost gone, replaced by darker shade that made your stomach twist. "Everybody needs a good bender every now and then. I just missed mine for couple of decades." He joked and as he said, even that barely noticeable tension that hung around the room was gone. "Then, cheers to occasional 'benders'. You mused, downing your drink and took Sam's offer to get you another one. 

The night was flying by fast. Around 1am, there was not a single sober person, Bruce excluded, who watched from behind the bar with drunk Nat. At the spur of a moment, Tony challenged you to a dance-off, in which you totally destroyed him, surprising everyone, just Nat and Clint knowing that once you have alcohol in you, you dance without the care of the world around you. Around 3am, everyone stood around the table, watching Thor and Steve arm wrestle. Steve was holding on pretty good but the game was over when the table below them gave up and broke. Around 4:30am, right after Tony was trying to do mini striptease on the table, some more clever people, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Bruce and surprisingly Steve, who looked pumped up and more relaxed than you've ever seen, called it a night and went to bed. Clint was already asleep, curled below the other table, while Tony was taking pictures of him in weird angles, eyeing the sharpie on the table. Thor was talking with Bucky on the balcony and you were now behind the bar, poking Nat in her cheeks, trying to make her drink some water because hungover Nat the next morning is not a pleasant experience. Helping her lay down on the couch, you massaged your eyes, big yawn foretold you about the coma you will have once in the bed. Your senses were still numb and slow as a warm hand landed on the small of your back. 

In greyish light of the early morning, Bucky was smiling at you, eyes soft and much more focused than you thought they would be after the amount of Asgardian alcohol he and Steve downed. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed," he whispered. Looking around, you must have dozed off as now you were sitting next to the sofa, no sight of Thor and Tony was sleeping on the bar counter, Nat dead to the world, curled in a small ball. Standing up, your legs wobbled, resembling a newborn fawn. "My legs fell asleep." You giggled, obviously still drunk. 

Bucky smiled down at you, your wobbly form trying to get up from the floor, so vulnerable and weak on it's own way. After that night, when he realized you are his soulmate, the dam in his heart began to crumble, the need to be around you stronger everyday. So many times he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying the words he told Steve to never utter in presence of others. The pain in his soul was slowly becoming unbearable, seeing your eyes losing their gleam each time night hour approached, every time dreams and soulmates were discussed. 

"Raise your hands, doll." His little pet name didn't seem to faze you, as your hands shot up towards him immediately, her face pretty despite the dark circles under her eyes. Your body fitted his perfectly, your head right below his chin as he held you in princess hold, like two pieces from the same broken statue pressed together once again. Bucky's heart skipped a beat when he caught a whiff of your smell,. He couldn't identify the sweet scent but he could say with clear conscience it was the best smell he ever smelled. 

Elevator down was quiet, occasionally filling the silence were your consent hums as you laid in Bucky's arm, half asleep. Bucky's footsteps still silent as he entered Natasha's room. Your body relaxed at the familiar scent of Nat's bed as Bucky took off your heels. "Don't fall asleep yet, doll." Bucky whispered and playfully pried the comforter from your hands as you tried to cover your face, loud giggled bursting from beneath the thin cloth. 

Quiet shuffling on the other side of the comforter told you Bucky left the bedroom, clanking noise from the bathroom made you stick out your head, watching him put down the bucket next to the bed and glass full of water pushed towards you. 

"I'm not that drunk." You said kicking off the comforter from you, only making it tangle around your feet. Looking up in annoyance, you almost stopped breathing at the sight of Bucky with the softest smile, crouching next to the bed. "Drink the water, dolly, you'll thank me later when you wake up." He pressed the cold glass in your hands. "Nat is keeping some Advil in the nightstand if you need it later." It was impossible to miss the care in his eyes and as you downed the drink, you followed his figure as he went to get you another one, shamelessly eyeing his muscular back, narrow hips with killer legs. Bed sheets were deliciously cool against your hot skin, snuggling in, you felt the sleepiness take over. Last thing you felt was a gentle hand tugging the hair out of your face and inaudible voice wishing you a good night. 

You were riding a motorbike, rear lights of a car a few meters ahead of you. Your mind was set on the mission, hydra's officer's words resonating in your head: "Eliminate the target and obtain the package they carry. No witnesses, seemingly an unfortunate accident." The voice of the handler cold, emotionless, pure poison and cruelty in a form of a voice, so different from your own pain and refusal in your soul, in your heart. And yet, your head slightly nodded, turning around your body towards the armory. The sound of a speeding bike is replaced by loud breathing, short, pained gasps for air and distant cries, a woman's voice calling the name of bloodied man lying on the ground, his name filling you with confusion and guilt and another pain. "Sergeant Barnes?" Your breath hitched in your lungs, hand pulled behind ready to strike before orders flowed in your head again and your fist collided with his face and twice more, blood splurting from the face, man fell down, motionless. Pain got worse, stomach twisting so much it felt like a knife pierced through, your own voice screaming inside the head, you fought against the power that made your legs move, long steps around the car. Reaching to the passenger seat, your hand grasped on the petite throat, squeezing- 

"NO!" You shouted, breathlessly looking around the room, gasping for air as bright Sun blinded you. Sudden change of surrounding left you speechless, never before could you escape the dream by your own will, always forced to see till the very end. 

It was morning, not early enough to make you fall back asleep and not late enough to make you feel bad of wasting a day dawdling around in bed. Sickly sweet-sour taste in your mouth and persistent thumps in your head reminded you of your another alcoholic lunacy with Avengers. You sighed as your eyes landed on the pills with a water nearby. With tight jaw, you reached for them, setting your mind on the sudden goal. You were gonna talk to Bucky today, no more tip-toeing around. 

Bigger part of Avengers was already up, even though some of them probably wished they were not, seeing Nat's and Tony's, even Steve's red eyes and groans that followed every loud noise. Bucky was standing next to Sam at the door entrance, both snickering at Steve, not even trying to hide their amusement. His tired blue eyes darkening in worry as you strode in, waving your greetings, your eyes finding his immediately. 

"Bucky, can I talk to you?" You asked, gently tugging his sleeve towards the living room. There was no coming back from this anymore. You were too tired of this whole situation and so was he, obviously, even though he seemed more denial. Your hands were sweaty as you looked pointedly in his cautious, yet sad eyes. You had no doubt now of who was Bucky anymore, not after this last nightmare, all your anger, blame and distrust gone, just a bottomless pit of pity and guilt towards the man whose soulmate was just a poor example of one. "Don't." He whispered ever so softly, word carrying a hundred of years of pain and insecurities, his eyes darting to Tony, who cleared his throat. 

"Finally having your 'soulmate talk'?" He quipped, brushing off the death glare from almost everyone in the room. "Good luck though, with Manchurian here, he might try to gut you later." He continued and looked rather coldly as Bucky quickly stomped out of the room. Anger flared inside you as a burning Sun, your quick steps towards Tony left everyone with hanging mouths. "You have no right to say that!" You seethed at older man, who was now looking at you with raised eyebrow, a move that normally made you smirk now pissing you off even more. "Considering he killed my parents and almost shot me in the face, I think I have all rights to say that." 

"You have no right to say that when you have no idea of how much guilt and pain he was in when he dreamt about that night. Not after he re-lives every goddamn thing they made him do in his dreams, not when you do not hear the pleas in he screams in his head!" You stepped back, not noticing Tony's eyes softening at the sight of your trembling form. "I witnessed all that since I was a baby, so don't you dare call him names, Stark." You growled as you sprinted out of the room, leaving the room in silence. 

"Bucky?" You called out, he was nowhere to be found in the living room, the door to the balcony opened. He stood outside, head hanging low, hands gripping the railing, his metal hand clearly bending the frail metal. 

He heard you behind him, you could tell from the way his whole body went stiff and so incredibly still, looking as a statue. "Bucky..." Sigh escaped your lips as he slowly turned around, not looking you in your eyes, staring somewhere above your head. Silence fell as both of you just stood there, your sudden confidence disappearing. 

"I underst-," he started and stopped, swallowing nervously he tried again. "I understand if you do not want to have anything to do with me." His words, pained, quiet and yet so loud in your ears shocked you, this was not what you expected to hear from him. 

"What?" You pushed out in tiny voice of disbelief. The look on his face told you the meaning behind his words, shame and guilt and disgust all over his handsome face, painting a dark shadow over it. "Are you kidding me right now?!" You rose your voice an octave, making Bucky flinch. "What does that mean?" You stepped towards him and your question tore down the wall Bucky laid down so carefully, as the words shot out of him in rapid fire. 

"You don't deserve somebody like me. What right do I have to be near you when only thing I can possibly give you are another nightmares, those visions of the brutalities I have done. Just pain, fear, guilt and shame of having no normal soulmate. My fuckedness is so strong that I haven't seen your dreams for years! If my nights are not filled with horrors of my sins, all I feel is another pain and just how hollow and weak I am and-Except those feelings are mine!" You screamed over him, shutting him up effectively. 

"Your nightmares are understandable, they made you do those things against your will. But those feelings, that emptiness and pain, those are mine. I should be your soulmate, the one that should give you the support, not make you feel all those useless feelings. How can you think of yourself as weak? After all you went through you are pushing through life while I tried to-" You stop yourself from saying those words, hands picking on the loose thread of the shirt's sleeves, made in a style of a fingerless gloves, hiding the hideous scars, a proof of your weakness. 

Bucky's eyes trailed down eyes wide with horror as he grasped the meaning behind your words. "You tried to-" He didn't finish the sentence as you clasped your hands over your ears, shaking your head slightly as you started to walk backwards, panic filling your eyes. You didn't want to tell him that piece of information, you didn't want him to know of the time when the depression got so bad it made you cut yourself, deep enough to put you in hospital. "Doll. Don't leave me. Not now." His desperate whisper stopped you, your cheeks covered in tears that now flew freely, tears you never planned on showing to world. 

"You deserve better." You whispered in broken voice. "You deserve a strong soulmate by your side, a soulmate that is not so weak, so pathetic, so stupid and naive and-" Your self-cussing was stopped as Bucky was suddenly in front of you, moving from his spot in a matter of a second, hands clasping your cheeks and lips planting on yours. His face was wet, stained by the tears he shed when looking at your frail form, his heart breaking at the sight. 

Kiss was a needy movements of lips, all years of loneliness, of pain and separation poured in that one moment. "You are none of that." Bucky whispered in your lips, planting one on your forehead, touch softer than a butterfly wings. "You are brave," another one, this time on your cheek, "beautiful," other cheek, "strong," each eyelid getting their own little love, fluttering close. "So kind and understanding." He looked you in the eyes, his blue orbs crystal clear, so honest it just made your tears flow faster. "You are everything and so much more. You are all I need and want, even though I don't deserve you." He softly caressed your cheeks, wiping away little droplets of salty water. Despite the people using him for horrible, dirty deeds, he was still able to open up, to love and trust, his soul so kind and bright he able to calm you, assure you and tell you what you needed to hear so much, while not asking anything back. 

Taking a step back, you pressed your palm on his chest, his heart beating just as fast as yours. “We are a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” You laughed, wiping your face. Bucky chuckled and pressed his hand on your cheek. His face looked calm but his eyes still held some of the pain and insecurity. 

“I,” you took a deep breath, thinking hard about your next words, “I’m not confident to be your support all the time. I, I have my own emotional luggage. There are days when I’m just a huge pain in the ass or I don’t even talk. But, I’m willing to try.” You said looking down, feeling of letting him down gnawing on your mind. Your eyes shot back up as a warm hand lifted your chin and Bucky kissed you again.

“You are not alone in this but, it takes two to tango, doll.” He smiled brightly, that face almost made your heart stop beating. “I really hope Nat won’t kill me when she sees your face, she is very protective of you.” He muttered as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Right now,” you giggled, “I think Tony is the one in real danger. Shall we save him?” You asked and laughed out as Bucky picked you up and buried your face in your chest, shaking his head while his eyes looked in yours, drowning you in love. “I will leave it to Steve today.”

“Okay Red, you can let me go now, my role as an asshole is over.” Tony said, tapping Natasha’s arm that was wrapped around his neck, keeping him bowed down. All Avengers were standing in the living room, looking through glass at you and Bucky talk and hug, being the overprotective family as always. “Don’t look at me like that, Rogers. A soulmate that doesn’t defend their other half is a bitchy thing. I wouldn’t wish that to Snow White.”

The End

[friendlylocalwhumper]

There’s a man standing right next to Emory’s front door, leaning against the wall casually. Lux’s walking slows a bit as he eyes the man: a neat suit, a nice watch, his shoulders set like he’s relaxed and calm. It’s out of place, and that always means danger.

“Lux?” The stranger asks, pointing at the approaching warlock. “Lux Fortier.”

There are people passing by on the sidewalk. It’s a sunny day, and there’s no alley nearby to be dragged into. No cop cars in sight. Lux doesn’t see a gun in the man’s waistband. He can’t tell where the danger will come from, but no one simply shows up knowing his name and where he lives.

“Do I know you?” Lux puts his hands in his pockets and steps up to the man to keep the conversation quiet. He can’t walk away from this and hope it goes away - if someone knows where he lives, then Emory could be at risk here. “How do you know my name?”

The man isn’t smiling, thought he doesn’t look incensed or unkind. When he reaches into his pocket, Lux tenses - but the stranger merely pulls a card from his inside pocket and offers it in answer. Lux reads the card three times, taking in the few words. Jone Coover, Private Detective. “A detective. What are you investigating? What’s it got to do with me?”

“Private eye, if you like. I think you might want to continue this conversation inside, it’s something I’d rather not have overheard.”

Lux’s eyes narrow just slightly. He can be pretty brave, he finds, when he thinks about his boyfriend and how he wouldn’t back down and stutter at any hint of a threat. “You’re not coming inside.”

Coover considers that response and then holds up a hand. “I understand. You have reason to be paranoid. After all, with what you are, you wouldn’t be eager for there to be too many questions, or police involvement…”

“Okay - okay,” Lux gives in, hands starting to tremble. “Okay, you can come in. Just - no cops.” He must look pretty desperate, because the P.I.’s expression softens a bit.

“Deal. No cops.”

The two go inside, and Lux leads the investigator to the main open room, gesturing for him to sit in an armchair while Lux takes the couch. The sole of his sneaker taps nervously against the floor as his leg bounces with his nerves.

"You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

The private eye nods in agreement. “You’re right, I haven’t. I was hired by a couple who are trying to find their son. I think you can help me find him - or find out what happened to him.”

Lux is skeptical, but it makes sense, sort of. He definitely does know how a good deal of people ended up, and he’s sure they were never found by their loved ones. “If you were led to me, you know things. You looked me up. What did you find?”

“Don’t you want to know who I’m looking for?”

The warlock shifts to face the detective, pulling one leg up onto the couch, folded. “He’s either dead, or alive - if he’s alive, I won’t tell you anything. I don’t know if you’re telling the truth, and even if you are… just because his parents are looking for him, doesn’t mean it would be in his best interest to be found.”

“Like you and your father?” Coover leans forward and pulls out a notepad, flipping to a page and then scanning down it with his finger. He glances up to see Lux looking beyond wary - scared, even. The blood’s drained from his face. “He’s looking for you. It seems that he’s not satisfied with the fact that you’re still alive after he paid that hired gun to do some damage. I get the feeling that he tends to underestimate you. And from what he told me -”

“You talked to him?” Lux is listening intently, taking short, quickening breaths. “In person? Does he know you’re - does he know where I am? He, he’s l-looking for me?”

“He is. Luckily for you, he’s not my client, so there’s no reason he should know where you are. I’m not threatening you, Lux, just giving you a demonstration of how much I can discover even without the incentive of a great deal of money. Whether or not you help me out by telling me what you know, I’ll find the answer. If you do help me out, I can take… measures to ensure that no one finds you if you don’t want them to. You’ve changed your last name, stayed on the move, avoided the cops and hospitals at all costs - there are gaps in your defenses against being found, though. I can help.”

“I - I can do that - what do you want to know?” Lux’s fingers are twisted in his shirt, a chill running up the back of his neck. “Who are y-, who are you looking for?”

“Percy McEvoy. He’s been missing for two years.”

Lux lowers his arm, his leg slowing then no longer bouncing with nerves. “Percy? Red hair, g-green eyes? A college student?”

“You do know him, then. Can you tell me where he is? Better yet, just tell me everything you know - where you met him, when, and how.”

The warlock is silent for a pensive moment, somber and weighed down by the mention of the person in question. “I don’t think it really matters. He… passed away.”

Coover lowers his pen from where it was poised to copy down useful information. He gauges Lux for the sincerity of his answer, and then sits back. “You make it sound like he died peacefully in his sleep at ninety years old. He’s - he would be - twenty-two years old. Did you see it? What happened?”

Lux runs the pads of his fingers over the fabric of the sofa so he can focus on where he is right now, instead of getting caught up in remembering concrete and metal. His eyes are cast down to the couch cushion. “He was killed.”

“Who killed him, and how? It wasn’t reported to the police. Where’s the body?”

The disbelief in the detective’s voice doesn’t surprise or offend Lux. People without magic believe in the system, believe that someone can’t just disappear and end up dead, lost, without some record or reason.

“He was tortured.” Not as bad as Lux was, but still, more than he should have ever been. “That’s not what killed him, just… it’s why he was missing. He was kept for that, to be hurt. And he… Percy liked -” Lux clears his throat when his voice cracks. “He liked stories. Liked talking. Guess he - guess he talked too much. Got his neck broken for it. Doesn’t matter how, or why - isn’t your job done now that you know? You can’t find him, he’s gone.”

“No, my job’s not done.” Coover sighs, tucking the pen behind his ear. “I still need to find him. His parents will want to bury him. It gives people closure. And they’ll want to know everything, no matter how painful it is to hear. He was their son.”

“I won’t tell them - I won’t tell them about how scared he was, or how he begged, or what - what it… what it was like feeling him grow cold… but, if you tell them anything, tell them - I caught him. When his neck snapped, he fell into my lap. He was dead, so I guess it d-doesn’t really matter, but, he wasn’t on the floor. I didn’t shove him away, I wasn’t - grossed out, or anything. I cried for him. I showed him respect. You can tell them that s-, someone cared.” Lux is somewhere between nervous and grief-stricken. His voice is soft, close to breaking. “You won’t find him. Was dumped on the street, probably. Like a warlock. He wasn’t one, but… it scares the rest of them into staying out of sight. A warning.”

The notepad is closed and put away. Coover stands, and Lux feels somewhat emptied out by explaining something so dark, something that he witnessed. That he survived.

“Come on, then,” Coover says, waiting for Lux to get up.

Lux blinks, watching the man before him in confusion. “Wh-, what?”

“Someone needs to tell Percy’s parents, and they’re not going to accept a secondhand story. You need to tell them what happened to their son.”

[kikyozoldyck]

ii. catch me if you can

PAIRING: diego hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: taking gifts from criminals is only morally dubious if said criminal obtained it illegally, ...right? right?! WARNINGS: mentions of shooting people, also diego being a fuckboi extreme ____

“Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken tonight alone?” You sigh, gun leveled at the Kraken like it always is right before he gets away. The Kraken shrugs, tucking his blades into his pants pockets.

“Honestly officer, the real offender here is you. Don’t you know it’s a crime to look that sexy?” you roll your eyes. The Kraken is always talking to you like this, feeding you lines like this whole thing is some cheesy cops and robbers porno from the 70s.

“Stop flirting with me! You’re only trying to mess with me, and it won’t work! Not today Kraken!”

The Kraken is quiet for a moment.

“Mm.” He says, somewhat ambiguously, “I got you a gift.” He nods towards the alley behind him, where you can hear a distinct groaning sound along with a string of curses in a language you don’t recognize. You take a deep, calming breath.

“Most people get flowers, you know.” You tell him, rolling your eyes, “maybe even some jewelry if you’re into that. They do not get people maimed criminals.”

“Well, you don’t like jewelry...do you?” The Kraken cocks his head, frown bordering on a pout. “You never wear it.”

“You’re being a creep again.” you breathe, a little dubious. “Just because I don’t wear it on duty doesn’t mean I never wear it. And you should not be considering whether or not buying me jewelry is a good investment. You should be putting your hands up, or I should be shooting you. Which I will unless you put your hands up.”

“Every time.” The Kraken grins, and he sounds even fonder than the last time. “It’s almost an inside joke at this point.”

“It is not a joke. Five seconds or I will shoot you.” You warn, uncocking the safety on your gun, “One.”

The Kraken, the dick, holds up his gloved fingers to count along. 

Two. 

Three. 

The Kraken smiles.

“That seems like my cue to leave.” He responds, then somewhat out of the blue he adds, “you like gold or silver?... Never mind I’ll figure it out.”

And with that, he vanishes into the night.

---

You end up going on a date with Mr. McSexy Millionaire -- who’s real name is John Perseus, a name you’re supposed to be extensively familiar with apparently. And he’s nice, really. And so is his designer suit, and his Italian leather shoes, and the Michelin star restaurant he rented out.

The conversation is pleasant, if not a little dull, and the food is delicious, although the portions are distressingly small.

And overall, although you had a lovely time, you’re immensely relieved when the night is cut short due to an emergency at the multibillion-dollar company John runs that he just could not stop talking about.

You dismiss his offer to have his driver take you home with a lie about how your apartment is only a few streets away, instead of the three blocks it actually is. You doubt you’ll ever be bringing him back to it anyway.

“You clean up nicely.” A voice calls as you pass a dark alley.

“Fucking Hell!” You squeak, hands already fumbling for your pepper spray as you see the Kraken leaning against the dimly lit wall of the restaurant, “what’s the matter with you?”

“I missed you.” The Kraken shrugs as he pushes off the wall. You stand in place and purse your lips as he walks towards you, a small grin on his face. “You can imagine my surprise when I beat the shit out of a crew of wannabe bank robbers, and they send some turkey-necked rookie to bust me because my favorite cop has the night off.”

“I just saw you two nights ago! Remember? You stabbed a senator!” You reply, feeling more than a little hysterical, as you walk past him. He’s not in his usual get up. He’s traded the leather harness and kevlar sweater for a grey t-shirt and baggy hoodie. His eyes still obstructed as they usually are, though he's wearing sunglasses instead of the typical tuxedo mask. 

He would be the kind of guy to wear sunglasses at night.

“I stabbed a racist, xenophobe who was complicit in human trafficking.” The Kraken corrects and jogs to catch up to you. It isn't like he has a lot to do besides ridding the city of its scum, he has more than enough time to follow you home. “But enough about that, how was your date?”

“Why do you care?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him, “I told you we’re not friends.”

“I care because there’s only room for one wily criminal in your life,” the Kraken says, his fingers digging into the pockets of his jeans, “and that slot is taken.” He gestures widely to himself.

“John isn’t a criminal.” You tell him, you don't add that you’d already ran his name through the police database a few times, or that you pulled some strings at Interpol to check twice there too. “And you’re not in my life. You’re the bane of my existence, sure, but you’re not in my life.”

“He’s a millionaire.” The Kraken says bitterly, his mouth small and angry like he’s just sucked on a lemon, “all of those guys are criminals.”

“If that’s true,” you argue, turning around for a moment, so your back is to the street, “why aren’t you beating the shit out of them instead of following me home like a lost puppy?”

“Like I said,” the Kraken replies easily, “I missed you. My life of crime is empty without you running around threatening to shoot me.”

“So, what?” You snort, turning again to walk in step with the Kraken, “You just found out I had the night off, and then you ran home to change and stalk me?”

“Something like that.” He answers, flashing you a smug smile.

“So, your whole night of law-bending and criminal beatings was ruined because of a lack of my presence?”

“Pretty much.”

“If missing me keeps you from breaking laws then maybe I should just quit my job.” You say as the two of you pause at a stoplight.

“Please,” the Kraken laughs, giving you a gentle nudge when the light turns green, “within an hour, you’d be back at police plaza begging Ludo to give you your badge back.”

“That’s probably true.” You admit as you spot your building.

“I know it is.” The Kraken tells you, “you love your job. Plus, your heart would break if you didn’t get to see me at least once a day.”

“I think my heart would survive.” You laugh, as you round the corner of your building, “but I doubt you would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Kraken asks, leaning against the doorframe as you dig for your keys.

“Oh, just that every cop in the city is itching to bust a cap in your ass.” 

“Well, tell those pigs that you’re the only cop I’m letting put anything near my ass.” The Kraken purrs, and it steals all the air from your lungs.

“Get out of my sight before I shoot you.” You say once you’ve gotten your wits about you.

“How are you planning on doing that when you left your gun upstairs?” The Kraken laughs, and just as you’re about to yell at him for snooping around your apartment he says, “That reminds me,” and starts digging into the pockets of his hoodie, “I got you something!”

He tosses something at you before you have a chance to talk. You catch it quickly, your reflexes are sharp even when you’re surprised, and you blink down at it, “and before you say anything, I want you to know that I bought it with my own money. Receipt’s in the box.”

“What the hell is this?” You ask because it looks like a very familiar kind of box and this cannot be what it looks like. You flip open the lid. “No. No. No.”

The necklace is nice. It’s gold and sturdy and professional enough that you can wear it at work. Plus, the small golden pistol that dangles from the chain is a nice touch. And you think if anyone else had given it to you, you’d say thank you but this is the Kraken, so all you can do is yell: “Take this back!” but when you look up, then he’s already gone.

With a sigh, you stash the necklace in your pocket. You’ll keep it — for evidence.

____

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before you ask, yes i did just imply that diego hargreeves likes it in the ass because it’s true

feed my big ass ego & comment something pls

taglist: @in-my-dreams-2000 @ohwelldanke @lollipopdomination @lokeystan @ariennneee @pureawesomeness001 @danverers @gwendolyns @colorful48 @youngblood-12 @kieraisntthererightnowsorry @alandofdawnandstarlight @lollipopdomination @mysteryoflovve @waytoobsessedwithmyfandoms @wittysidecharacter

[ivyfics]

When you’re sober — (fic)

When air is back in his lungs he manages a, “Whoa. Who’re you?”

Long fingers land on the bridge of black rims, pushing them up even when they haven’t moved an inch. “Tsukishima.” Eyes behind glass settle on him for a second before their gazes break, jump away. The blond snack stands straighter and asks, “And you are?”

“Not straight,” Tetsurou replies, dazed and with a croaky throat.

Rating: Mature Pairing: Kurotsuki

Read on AO3

The night is lost between strobe lights, deafening beats, and way too much tequila for four people to consume—three and a half if the shots Akaashi’s given away as to protect his liver are brought into consideration.

He’s not sure if his face is numb or his entire skin is on fire but he’s swaying slowly between those two the same way he sways on the dancefloor, the amount of alcohol in his blood caught up with his motor skills and taking him from frantic head-nodding and hip-popping to that sweet, sweet rocking of his knees to a beat that does not match whatever the DJ is playing.

Crowded, loud, hot both in the way that leaves Tetsurou with the kind of glow people buy exorbitantly priced fine-milled stardust to achieve and in the two tutoring sessions the bouncer’s niece is getting out of Akaashi to agree to let them cut the long ass line curving around the block.

Do not be fooled, this is not your usual club.

It’s an epiphany, one they get to experience only after being vouched by Terushima’s minute nod to the gatekeeping stack of muscle. Not that his man, his bro, the hot piece of ass he lives with could not take him if things went south. He has absolute faith that Bokuto is more than capable of decking the dude if necessary, as much as he has in the knowledge that he would never deck anyone undeserving of having their bone structure re-arranged.

Bokuto is out of his sight down to the tippy-tips of his frosted hair, a feat considering they tower over almost everyone else in the area around the booth they claimed for themselves when they arrived—courtesy of Terushima, as long as Kuroo pulls through with a hot number burning the contact list on his phone.

Bokuto was holding the Jose Cuervo and the fantastic, demonic amber liquid inside of it when he hopped into the crowd and vanished. The last thing anyone needs right now, especially Tetsurou, is to have Bokuto get completely fucked; there is no way in any ring of hell that any of them have the steady gait it takes to transport a completely fucked Bokuto anywhere. Oikawa, maybe, but the last Tetsurou saw of him was grinding down on the nearest unknown beefcake so that’s a total loss. Good night for Oikawa’s ass, terrible for them if they need some muscle to transport their own beefcake out to wherever they’ll head to next.

Somewhere with a bed they can all throw themselves on, or at least some blankets on a floor. Whatever that place turns out to be, Tetsurou will not be the one leading them there this time. He and Bokuto ran into some other friends with commodities on Terushima’s radar; they got some nice Dictador shots out of it, and Tetsurou is feeling it in the raging pit burning his guts.

Before anyone can go all judgey on them, they don’t usually do this. Going for a drink usually involves lots of beer, finger foods because Bokuto gets snacky when he drinks, and a place where they can all sleep over when they eventually get beaten by the blessed sleep that comes with getting a little more than buzzed. Also, fuck whoever judges them even if that weren’t the case. They do what they want.

The floor shifts, dancing party-goers along with it, and Tetsurou’s arms spread out to find some balance. He takes a second or two to steady himself and to realize that the floor is as solid as a rock, that he’s the one doing the walls-caving-in thing, and that maybe those shots hit him a little harder than he thought. He waddles through the crowd trying his best not to look down, eyes blinking faster than they should.

Vertigo doesn’t seem plausible when you’re only about six feet high (which he’s not because his feet are on solid ground even though his head technically is,seeing as that’s the height it would fall from if Tetsurou was to take a little spill) but Tetsurou’s felt some things before and there is no other way to explain the wave that rolls over you when you’re head-diving face first into a sticky, disgusting floor of a club.

Landing on the booth with his hip, Tetsurou admits that whatever line exists between him getting out of this club by his own means and not has been crossed—meaning: after all the undeserving mental bitching he’s being doing in slander of Bokuto’s name, he’s the one who is completely fucked. Luckily for him (and the ones who now have the responsibility to make sure he doesn’t wash up in a random alley somewhere when the sun comes up),  he’s not impossible to transport.

A little wobbly, sure, but easy enough to maneuver.

When the swirling of his sight calms down, he can see Oikawa in his line of sight. The brunette is doing something that Tetsurou will call dancing because he might be drunk out of his wits but he’s polite, ass not so discreetly backing up into the wall of muscle that is Oikawa’s prey tonight.

He looks pretty solid. Maybe he can carry Tetsurou out.

Writhing bodies flash in and out of darkness, eyelids growing heavier and then not until he feels a massive amount of warmth at his side, groaning. It’s a familiar feeling and Tetsurou groans back, setting some of his weight back on Bokuto. Guess it wasn’t all slander.

“I think it’s time we left,” Akaashi speaks up loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the music. He sounds sober, too sober, and Tetsurou envies him furiously around the spinning of the room and the numbness of his face. How nice it would be to have control of his physical form. Tetsurou turns to blink at Akaashi blearily, overshooting a little to the left and having to compensate. He finds him with a hand on Bokuto’s hair, the motion of his fingers combing through and working at the strands hypnotic to Tetsurou’s alcohol-addled brain.   Bokuto agrees with another groan, face flopping on Tetsurou’s rib cage. It should hurt, that with Bokuto’s nose being extra jabby, but Tetsurou is above that kind of sensory input right now. Tetsurou tries to move, his neck craned in a way that doesn’t bother him now, but that would hurt if he were any more sober than he is. “Oikawa is not going to be happy about that.”

Bokuto groans again, the sound barely audible from where it’s muffled at Tetsurou’s sweaty side. “Leave him. I wanna sleep.”

Akaashi hums, letting Bokuto deal with himself while he locates Oikawa on the dance floor. “He’s had too much to drink to leave behind, he’s not going home with anyone tonight.”

Bokuto’s head snaps up, eyes squinting to catch Akaashi’s line of sight. “Oh. Yeah.” The couple of strands of Bokuto’s hair that have come loose from being a sweaty gross mess flop against his forehead, cheek resting on Tetsurou’s shoulder when he’s tired of seeing Oikawa’s ass grind down on whoever that is.“He’s going to bitch at me about cockblocking him until he falls asleep.”

“But he’ll make pancakes for everyone as thanks for not leaving him alone with a serial killer.”

“Fuck yes, pancakes. Can we have pancakes, Keiji?”

Akaashi makes a noise of agreement. “When we get home and you guilt Oikawa into making them.”

“Can we go home now?”

“There’s a tiny problem,” Tetsurou says, because he owes it to them to disclose exactly how much it’s gonna take to lift him from this booth.

Tetsurou is the presentable drunk; he doesn’t puke, doesn’t slur his words or does crazy shit if he’s left out of sight even for a second—and how is Suga doing these days, he wonders?—but he does become a floppy meat puppet for a while, all while looking like he’s just over-danced and overheated. “I’m soooooo drunk, Akaashi, I can’t feel my legs.”

Akaashi’s face twist, just a little, at having two people to drag out. They try, really, to balance out who stays sober enough to make sure everyone’s safe (or keep an eye on Suga when he tags along—except Bokuto. Suga has the uncanny ability to drag him along in his shenanigans), but Akaashi has been it for the last three times they’ve gone out. He can’t cook for shit so it won’t be pancakes but Tetsurou is going to do something nice for him this week.  

“I guess walking back to your place is off the list.”

Right. That was the plan. Their shared apartment. The apartment that is at decent walking distance when you’re only planning to dance a lot and drink a little. Like they were supposed to do tonight.

“Keiji, I’m sorry,” Bokuto moans. “Tequila was a bad choice.”

Tetsurou makes a noise of agreement. He agrees with that all the way to his soul. “Tequila is always the right choice until it’s not. It’s always not.”

“It’s fine. I think I have a place we can crash at nearby. Let me go call first.” Akaashi gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket because he’s an angel. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Tetsurou laughs a little. “Couldn’t even if I tried.” Then, he adds, “Maybe if I tried really hard.”

“Don’t try.” Akaashi gives him a sharp look, shutting him down before disappearing to work his magic.

Bokuto doesn’t move an single centimeter, only looking up when Oikawa comes back with the swole dude in tow.

Oikawa looks like an add for expensive, overpriced perfume. “Kuroo, you ratty bitch.”

Tetsurou is hurt. “How come I’m the only ratty bitch here? I’m not even the drunkest one.”

“Koutarou can do what he wants.”

“You heard him. I do what I want,” Bokuto laughs, followed by a groan. Kuroo rests his eyes for a while, enjoying the warmth at his back and the portion of Oikawa’s conversation that floats his way. Time disappears for an infinite moment, his body loose on his seat.

Akaashi comes back after an unknown amount of minutes, letting his presence be known by a flick to Kuroo’s forehead that makes him jolt, and in turn, makes Bokuto groan again. A quick glance tells Kuroo that his eyes are closed and he’s snuggling against Kuroo’s side. If they don’t get moving soon he will fall asleep on this booth. On cue, Bokuto says, “I don’t wanna get up.”

“Bokuto, get up right now. I can’t carry you by myself when you’re like this.” Akaashi’s voice is stern but Kuroo knows in his gut that his words are paired with his hands slicking Bokuto’s hair back from his sweaty forehead gently.

“I can help,” Oikawa’s catch of the day speaks up. “It looks like you could use a hand.”

He certainly looks like he can help, muscle tee showing off arms that would make sculptors weep. He can probably take care of Bokuto by himself. It’s not that any of them are puny, it’s just that Bokuto is so fucking ripped. He’s a wall of heavy, dense muscle, dragging down whoever carries him with his drunk dead weight. This new dude looks like he can keep up, though.

Tetsurou’s mouth goes off.  “Thank you, ripped stranger.”

The stranger shakes his head, amused. “Iwaizumi,” he offers. That must be his name.

“Thank you, ripped Iwaizumi,” he amends.  

Huh, maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

They somehow manage to get out of the club in one piece and without leaving anyone behind. Tetsurou doesn’t really know where they’re going, but the last two brain cells not taking a bath in booze are too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other without toppling over the pavement to care. Akaashi is leading them somewhere safe, he hopes. And comfortable. Please, be comfortable. He’s so done with walking.

Tetsurou leans a little heavier on Tooru. He’s rosy-cheeked and his eyes are half-lidded, Tooru’s energy level dropping a little without the dim lights and heavy music to amp him up. The toll of the night out is showing in his slow gait, sturdier that Tetsurou’s. Tooru is the one leading him but he leans his weight on Tetsurou, too, their combined efforts keeping them moving and upright.

Kind of like the less blind leading the blind.  

They’re at the back of their little group, Akaashi chatting with Iwaizumi with Bokuto between them in front of them. The road is quiet and glowing under the streetlights, aiding to the surreal feeling carried by the fresh breeze.

Tetsurou gets lost in the flexing muscles of Tooru’s dude’s arms for about two seconds before almost tripping and Tooru’s tensing arm around his shoulders break him out of it.  “He’s hot, Tooru. God job.”

“You mean ‘good job’?”

“That too.”

Tooru laughs, a big free guffaw fueled by the late night air and whatever level of drunk he still is, his body against Tetsurou shaking more than it should have for something so unfunny. The pair of them warble in their steps a little, and it’s Tetsurou who makes them still so that they don’t fall. Tetsurou looks forward and catches Tooru’s dude looking back at them, risking an unsteady Bokuto that clings to him for a glance at a laughing Tooru. He falters, minutely—but enough to have Tetsurou notice and Iwaizumi’s cheeks go red even under the dim lights before he quickly faces front.

The building they arrive at is so incredibly familiar that Tetsurou doesn’t doubt he’s been here before. Even without clinging to Tooru’s shirt his feet would find their way around, and he follows without paying attention to where they’re going because his body leads the way for him on autopilot. It takes them an eternity and Tooru’s death grip on his shirt to climb the steps to the second floor, but they make it relatively unscathed. Kuroo does bang his shoulder against the wall a little too hard, but the pain fades almost immediately.

They stop near the stairwell, the door a pale gray with a metal ‘2B’ above it. Kuroo fades out at this point, gaze weirdly entertained by the shiny ceramic frog sitting next to the doorframe. It’s pink, for one, and it has a yellow ribbon around it’s throat. It stares back at Tetsurou with jumpy eyes and a forever smile on its face.

It’s hauntingly familiar. He’s seen that frog before. He knows the frog. So much that he says, “I know that frog.”

Tetsurou’s voice is only for himself, but Bokuto manages to catch it. “ ‘Course you do. That’s Lola.”

What? How does Bokuto know the frog? How does Tetsurou know the frog? Before he can voice his concern the door opening cuts him off, and Tetsurou, he’s—he’s dumbfounded.

Standing in front of him is the damning proof that god is real, because the devil made whoever this is. He’s gorgeous , standing in the entryway in blue sweats and a white t-shirt. Soft fabric and a tall frame, pretty and short curls over sharp eyes.

When air is back in his lungs he manages a, “Whoa. Who’re you?”

Long fingers land on the bridge of black rims, pushing them up even when they haven’t moved an inch. “Tsukishima.” Eyes behind glass settle on him for a second before their gazes break, jump away. The blond snack stands straighter and asks, “And you are?”

“Not straight,” Kuroo replies, dazed and with a croaky throat.

Everyone goes quiet at that, stun broken by Akkashi’s groan of  ‘not this’ and Oikawa’s ‘pffffft!’

After they manage to move past Tetsurou’s mouth, the shuffle in to the apartment slowly. It’s small, but surprisingly free of clutter. The feeling that Tetsurou’s been here before grows by the second, down to the pleased sound he makes when his butt decides to rest on one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

Iwaizumi chuckles next to him, hands free now that Bokuto is starfished on the couch as much as he can.“I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay, Iwa-chan?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good. I have to go back to my people.” Coming closer to Tooru, he places a hand on Tooru’s nape. “I’ll see you?”  

Oikawa pouts, but nods, face shifting to mischief almost immediately. “Thank you for your service. I’ll be sure to make it up to you,” he purrs. Oikawa leans in closer to his ear, probably to whisper dirty things, but Kuroo does not care even a single bit, not an ounce. He’s much too busy looking over at their host, their literal saviour. The very recent but very intense apple of Kuroo’s eye.

He’s still as pretty as he way when he opened the door.

Tetsurou stares at him awhile before a smile takes over. He leans forward, elbow catching his weight on the counter. “You know,” he drawls, “If I had a dollar for every time I saw someone as pretty as you, I wouldn’t have money to take you anywhere.”

Oikawa’s choked laughter fills the air behind him followed by, “You don’t have it now.”

Tetsurou whips to face him. He whispers furiously across the room, hand shooting out to point at the blonde. “Shhhhhh! He doesn’t know that!”

The outburst makes a quiet chuckle come from behind him, and when Tetsurou looks over his angel has a barely there smile on his face and is pointedly looking away from him. It brings a goofy smile to Tetsurou’s face. He’s making progress!

He clears his throat, brain going a mile a minute trying to come up with his best work. “So are you a bookworm or do you just dress like one?”

“Why?”

Tetsurou shrugs because duh, “Glasses.”

Tsukishima gives him a glance for less than a second before rolling his eyes. Akaashi’s bored tone speaks up, “That was terrible. ”

“Worse that terrible, that was lame,” Oikawa says.  

Alright, okay. A hit and a miss, but he can do better. “You’re like a long water bottle.”

Everyone goes silent until Akaashi’s tentative, “Did you mean a tall glass of water?”

“Yeah. Are you acid? Because I’m tripping over you.”

Oikawa sleepily boos in the background while Akaashi walks over to stand next to Tsukishima. “Do you have anything we can feed him? He needs to sober up.”

Tetsurou doesn’t stop. “I see you and my eyes hurt.”

Akaashi’s trek to the fridge stops. Then, he shrugs and keeps going. “I got nothing.”

Tsukishima hums, face fully in his fridge, giving Tetsurou the best view of his ass. It’s small but it’s so cute. “All I have is leftovers, but that usually doesn’t go over well. The only thing that won’t make him puke is cheese and crackers.”

Tsukishima plates it up for him, along with a glass of water. He sets it in front of Tetsurou and tells him, “Eat.”

“Thank you,” Tetsurou smiles at him, enamoured. He starts on them slowly, nibbling on the cheese. Tsukishima—and that’s so clunky to say, so long. He needs a nickname, something as cute as he is.

Tsukki, maybe. He tests is on his tongue. “Tsukki.”

“Yeah?”

“Tsukki. Tsuuukki. Tsu—kki.”

“What?”

“You’re so pretty. Your hair is so yellow,” Tetsurou says with a lilt, staring at the slice in his hand. Then, his eyes widen as he thrust it higher in the air. “Like cheese!”

Tsukki chuckles again, eyes closed and head shaking. “You’re going to regret so many things tomorrow.”

That might be true, but Tetsurou won’t regret trying to make him smile. “Are you a 175 degree angle? ‘Cause I hope you’re not straight.”

Akaashi sighs, “A nerd, even when he’s drunk.”

“You’re a punch to the face.”

It’s Bokuto who speaks up this time, laugh muffled by his face resting on the cushion. “A Knockout.”

“You’re a filthy thief! You stole my hea”— Tetsurou emphatically swings his arm, causing his cheese to slip and land on the floor—“Oh, my cheese.”

His cheese. His poor cheese. Tsukki gave him that.

Oikawa lifts his head from where it rests on Bokuto’s back. “Awww. Tetsu, that one was kind of cute.”

“Of course it’s cute. It has to be cute, cause he’s cute,” Tetsurou grumbles, “He’s like a—a“— Tetsurou’s hand shoots out, gripping the arm nearest to him and asking—”what’s the word that’s not mop?”

The arm nearest to him happens to belong to the blonde, who just stares down at him. After a second of Tetsurou’s inquisitive look, he responds. “Not mop. Broom?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m like a broom.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tsukishima closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. “I’m going to regret this. Why?”

Tetsurou lets go of him and leaps to stand straight. “Cause you sweep me off my—”

And everything goes dark.

Tetsurou is dead. He’s either dead, or dying, or being digested by a giant beast but he’s dead. Something crawled into his mouth, took a shit and then died there, too.

After furiously praying to whatever god there is to please let him him succumb back to sleep until he’s not dead enough to feel like this—and failing—he slowly blinks awake, eyes tacky. The room is blessedly dark, and the familiar light green sheets underneath him are soft.

He, very carefully, gets up in search of people. While the room’s curtains had been drawn, the rest of the apartment is sunny. Tetsurou blinks against the light, keeping his hand on the doorframe for support.

“Morning, Romeo.”

Tetsurou stumbles out into the room, pouring himself on his usual stool. Long minutes pass by before,“Did I— Did I call your hair cheese?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

Tetsurou whines, his forehead hitting the cool surface of the counter. “ Tsu—kki, why do you let me embarrass myself?”

Tsukki stands by the stove, glass of water in his hand. His laptop is next to Tetsurou on the counter, along with a stack of papers. By the looks of it he’s been awake for a lot longer that Tetsurou. With the most neutral expression, he answers, “It brings me joy.”

“Where is everyone?”

Tsukki hums. “Bokuto kept saying something about pancakes, so he and Akaashi left to get some.”

He would. Fuck Bokuto and his inability to suffer through hangovers like the rest of them. He probably woke up peppy and ready to face the day.

“Oikawa”—Tsukki makes a pinched face at his name. Knowing Oikawa, he made sure to annoy Tsukki as much as possible before taking off. Not that it was that hard for him, it took some time for Tsukki and Tooru to get along—”left to get ready for his date with, and I quote verbatim, ‘The adonis who is going to destroy whatever there is of me later.’ ”

Tetsurou frowns, going through the watery memories of yesterday. “I remember someone big and muscly.”

“That’s the one.”

Tetsurou hums into the counter. He remembers most of last night the way he does childhood memories, with vague and veilied understanding of what happened.“How could I forget you? And Lola!” Tetsurou looks over to the door, raising his voice. “I’m sorry, Lola.”

Tsukki lets him sulk in his head for a bit. He comes closer and Tetsurou can feel his elbows resting on the other side of the surface, in front of him. “Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hnn?”

“How come you never hit on me when you’re sober?”

He chokes. Tetsurou is too hungover to be having this conversation, because for a second there—and he doesn’t want to get to ahead of himself, here—it sounded like Tsukki was… pouting. That has to be a mistake, because Tsukki doesn’t pout. He snips.

“It just doesn’t seem fair that I have to put up with your terrible flirting when we aren’t even on a date. Don’t you think?”

While he’s right and Tsukki is decidedly not pouting, he’s also not not pouting.

And sure, Tetsurou’s given it some thought. Everyone’s given it some thought; he’s had nights chatting with Oikawa where he, too, admitted to having a thought once. Granted, Tetsurou might have given it a little more than just some thought to it.

A little but too much of it sometimes, when they spend time together and all he does is think about it, along with fleeting idea when someone mentions the blonde in front of him. Or when he sees someone trying to hit on Tsukki—which, why wouldn’t they? He’s all of that —and there’s this sudden sourness in his tongue he pretends isn’t there.

“It seems to me like you should rectify that, seeing as there is this huge backlog of your awful drunken flirting to make-up for,” Tsukki continues, like he’s not destroying Tetsurou’s mind.  

“How—How would I go about rectifying that?” Tetsurou’s voice wobbles.

“Lunch, for starters. Or coffee. I just—I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“If your flirting is actually that bad.”

“You want me to flirt with you? On a date.”

Tetsurou knows he sounds incredulous. It’s so unexpected. He never imagined Kei would be interested. How many times have they been here before? How many times has Tetsurou drunkenly flirted with him, only to make like it’s nothing the next day? Tsukki has always brushed it off good-naturedly to the point that Tetsurou thought he was so far off Tsukki’s radar that the only way he’d ever take any advances from him would be as a joke.

Kei sighs, “Forget it.”

He sounds so disappointed. Tsukki is (badly) pretending not to be, but Tetsurou can hear it. It makes him desperate to rectify this, hope making him jump even if his head will kill him for it. “No! No take-backs! I’m buying you lunch. And dinner! As a date, not friends—well, obviously friends, but friends that are on a date. Romantically. Full romo. And I’m flirting with you!”

Tetsurou’s head is pounding, his voice too loud but he takes a quick breath and sucks it up. “I’ll flirt with you right now. You’re—”

“Please don’t,” Tsukki interrupts him.”You look like you’re about to die.”

He’s not about to die, and he’s not missing this shot because he made Tsukki misunderstand.

“Save it for later,” Tsukki says, and there’s a light blush on his cheeks, his voice so flustered while he looks away and, oh, oh.

Tetsurou is so incredibly fucked.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Darkness Within: La Rubau

Part 3 of The Darkness Within Series (Spanish Version)

Summary: Bucky is on a self-imposed mission to kill the leader of a small country who wronged him and isn’t expecting there to be any witnesses. But then he is spotted by a young woman who doesn’t react how he expects

Word Count: 1359

Warnings: Mentioned abuse, rape, torture. Angst (as if the other warnings didn’t spell that out enough)

“We’ve got some intel that looks like it requires some quick action,” Steve was saying. Bucky leaned back in his chair, appearing disinterested, but he was listening as closely as anyone else. “But I haven’t been able to figure out what exactly is going on. It appears that Cherut is planning an attack on itself?”

Cherut. The country where Bucky had killed The General a few weeks ago. The country where the darkly innocent girl lived. The country that Bucky had been keeping a close eye on ever since he left. Discreetly, Bucky pulled out his tablet and began tapping away.

Steve was still speaking. “The transmission we intercepted mentioned tying up a loose end. Something about the General’s death. Whatever they’re planning, it’s going to happen within the next few days. Now we all need to put our heads together and figure this out because we need Cherut to calm down from the chaos it’s been in since the General died. So we need to figure out where this attack is happening. If we can figure out why too that would be—”

“La Rubau,” Bucky interrupted, looking up from his tablet. “The club in the center of the capital. Tonight. Let’s get going.”

Without waiting for a response, Bucky pushed his chair back and was striding out of the room.

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called out, but Bucky didn’t slow. After a second, Steve had no choice but to follow him, the rest of the team not too long after him. “Buck!”

“Steve, just trust me on this one.”

It wasn’t until the team was up in the air with the plane pointed towards the small European country that Steve managed to get Bucky to sit down next to a window and question him further. “Alright Bucky, what’s going on?”

“There was a girl,” Bucky said softly so no one else on the team could overhear. They still didn’t know about his little trip to kill the General. “She saw me.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice held a warning note.

“I didn’t kill her,” Bucky reassured quickly. “She wanted me to kill him. Wanted me to make him suffer. So I did. The General used her, man. Beat her, raped her, threatened her, and whatever the hell else he wanted. No one knew about it but her, him, me, and apparently a few higher-ranking members in his entourage. She hasn’t said anything and she won’t, but they don’t know that. They don’t want her to be able to bring up any accusations against the General. So, they’re going to stage this attack and she’ll get killed in the crossfire.”

Bucky raised his eyes from where they’d been trained on his fists and met Steve’s eyes. “I can’t let her die, Steve.”

There was silence between the two friends while Steve let Bucky’s dark vow sink in. Bucky had never felt this protective over anyone in his life. Even back in the day when Steve was a little twig picking fights, Bucky never felt this fire burning deep inside of him.

“How do you know where she’ll be tonight?”

“I’ve been keeping tabs on her, her sister, and her sister’s friends.” There was no shame underneath Bucky’s admission.

Y/N didn’t use social media much, so he had to rely on updates about her life by hacking into cameras around the city or checking up on her sister’s social media pages. One of her sister’s friends posted about a girls’ night at La Rubau and tagged Y/N in it earlier that day. It would be the first time Y/N had spent a night out since Bucky first saw her. It was the first chance anyone would get a chance to kill her and make it look accidental. Like the entire thing wasn’t planned for her death.

After his confession, Bucky clammed up, refusing to say anything more. Steve and the other members of the team kept researching the intercepted messages and everything they found pointed straight to La Rubau, that night.

Bucky had never wanted to be so wrong in his entire life.

As soon as the plane touched down, Bucky was on the move. He had hoped to get to Cherut with enough time to catch Y/N before she left her apartment, but thanks to turbulence, they arrived just as the girls would be arriving at the club.

He moved through the town, uncaring if the rest of the team was following. In record time, he was sneaking through the backdoor of the club, Steve right behind him. Bucky stuck to the shadows, searching faces and bodies for Y/N.

There. In the corner booth with her sister, Jen, and three of Jen’s friends sat Y/N. All while keeping an eye open for trouble and figuring out a plan to get Y/N alone and warn her away from this club, Bucky listened in on their conversation.

“I’m telling you Y/N, you’d really like John. He’s a great guy, super nice…” Esmerelda was saying.

“I’m sure he is,” Y/N said placatingly. Under her breath, too soft for the rest of the girls to hear, she continued. “That’s the problem.”

Jen leaned forward. “What was that?”

“Nothing. I just have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Y/N stood up, breathing a discreet sigh of relief as she walked further away from Jen and her friends. Like a snake, Bucky moved through the crowd until he was in the back hallway where the bathrooms were. As he waited, he listened to the chatter from his team in his earpiece. They hadn’t found anything yet, but they were on high alert.

Her soft gasp brought Bucky back to the present situation. Once again, it wasn’t a gasp of fear, but one of surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Wh—what are you doing here?” After shooting a quick glance over her shoulder back into the main room of the club, she took careful steps forward until she joined Bucky in the shadows. Not scared at all, he thought briefly.

But there was no time to waste. “You need to get your sister and friends out of here, Y/N.”

Her eyes jumped over his face for a moment before she nodded. “Okay.”

Just as she turned to go, chatter erupted over his earpiece and Bucky barely had time to react, pulling Y/N through the backdoor before an explosion erupted from inside. Later, he would learn of the three other explosions that happened throughout the city to mask the true intentions even further. Later, he would learn that his team was injured, but all survived.

Later, he would think everything through.

But now? Now, he had Y/N cowering in his arms momentarily. Now, he had a ringing in his ears that was slowly going away. Now, he was pulling Y/N back, arm around her waist as she struggled to go back in, yelling her sister’s name. Now, he was manhandling her away from the ruined club and down a darkened alley. Now, his earpiece was silent, destroyed by the explosion.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Bucky shouted, getting right in her face. Her eyes were wild and she was still tugging back towards the club, but her fight was slowly seeping out of her body. “Y/N, you can’t go back there. That bomb was meant for you.”

That made her eyes snap up to his and her body freeze.

Satisfied that he had her attention, Bucky kept talking, trying to formulate a plan at the same time. “You’re still a loose end to them. If you go back, they’re going to know you’re alive. I need you to go to the warehouse on the edge of town, the one with the lion painted on the side, keep to the shadows. I’ll check for your sister and meet you there in half an hour, okay?”

“Jen…” Her voice was absolutely wrecked.

“I got her. Go, Y/N.”

He gave her a slight push and was relieved when she only gave one more glance back at the smoky ruins of the club before running off. Even to his eyes, she nearly disappeared into the shadows.

Read Chapter 4: Still Out There

[pink-valkyrie]

Leonis and the lionheart pirates

Disclaimer: I do not own one piece or its character all rights go to oda. The oc’s , the background for them are my bestfriends the-wallflower-artist. This written version is mine.

Kento Aster Leonis didn't have it easy growing up. Her mother died shortly after her birth leaving it to the newly retired vice-admiral to take care of his baby girl.  As she grew she dreamed of seeing the world after hearing her father tales of being a marine but didn't wanna travel down that path hearing how the marines were changing. As the girl turns into a adolescent teen her father begins to teach her the basic of fighting and martial arts. She later asked him to train her with a sword and her sixteenth birthday he gives her his sword and a heavy dose of training. She was a quickly learner. But as she and her skills grew she remained the ever bubbly and energetic child she always was. She wore her dark brown hair up in a messy bun, her emerald eyes sparkled lighting her freckled face that set off a beautiful glow when she smiled. It was disarming to think that this young lady had the slightest of skills but you just had to get her mad first then she went on a rampage. Oh how embarrassing it was for her father the first time he was called in to stop her. The kid had teased her a bit to much and bang she exploded, maybe she needed more discipline than he thought or maybe she had just been blessed with her mothers explosive temper. It was definitely the latter he thought of his late wife and how proud she would be of her daughter and he hoped of him to for raising her the best he could. It brought a smile to his face and a few tears to his eyes. As she finally settled down they had a talk, he paid for the damages down and the teenage boy the dare mocked his daughter was only mildly hurt and he was very apologetic it seemed so no actions would be taken. The pair went back home in silence, Leonis was very worried she had witnessed her fathers odd mood swings so she had returned to her calm self and reluctantly followed him home. Maybe I should just go to bed but as the door shut she would have no such luck having to endure another one of his painful lectures. It lasted two and half hours. Oh she should've ran when she had the chance finally she was free to go to bed. Before she shut the door she heard him call to her "Night sunflower." Smiling at the nickname he had given her for how it fitted her personality. Even though he had scolded her pretty good it was how she know he wasn't that mad and that he still loved her. "Night dad" She called back before settling for a peaceful rest. Her dreams were filled with her ideas of adventure. As she said as a child to her father "I want to see the whole world." ----------Years had passed and the sixteen year old was now a 20 year old woman about to set sail on a trading ship. It had been a hard goodbye to say to her father. For 20 years he had raised her to be the person she always wanted to be supporting her and loving her fully as a father should. Putting her first and now that she was leaving he knew to hold back tears until she was out of sight at least so she wouldn't waver anymore on starting her journey. She already picked a crew name for when she to become a pirate the lionheart pirates he laughed it suited his daughter, and what would hopefully be a crew. He knew that she was going to accomplish her goals, and wished her well, hoping that she'd find her new friends and contact him soon. She traveled the east blue islands, bumming rides while bounty hunting not having much luck. She meets her first mate and cook Ian, Dark hair, tanned skin and olive green eyes. He was quite the looker. Ian helped Lenois out when her temper gets her in trouble at the bar he was working at. His boss and coworkers are his ‘family.’ He was adopted by his ‘Boss’ when he was living on the street as a child. He was taught how to use knives/daggers.  Ever the gentleman he finally lost his cool, kicking one of the guys knocking him down before flashing his knives. "All you bastards against one lady isn't gonna work for me. So I'll give you a choice fight me and the lovely lady here or you can leave my bar now." The owner and Ian's adopted father stepping in." I'm not against fighting but you won't be brawling in my bar." Shortly after the odds evened out the other men left. After a couple hours of conversing and exchanging stories. Ian agreed to travel with Leonis as her cook. They took odds jobs and bummed another ride to the next island . Over time they noticed the marine base on the island they were on when return the bounties seemed very shady. Leonis and Ian discovered the marines involvement with a notorious pirate group! The pirates were dealing money to the marines for ‘protection’, while they terrorized the neighboring towns. The marines just coming a ‘little too late’. Leonis couldn’t handle that. Even if most marines take justice a little too seriously. Seeing marines become greedy and benefit on others misfortune is cruel! People  died over their greed! So her and her first mate take it upon themselves to end this. And after some grueling fights, she defeated the pirate captain. Then she turned and confronted the captain in charge of the marine base. Telling them she’s here to ‘claim a bounty.’ Tossing the bruised up pirate captain’s body on the ground. This begins a fight and she defeats the captain of the marine base to, revealing the ugly truth to the townsfolk to what’s going on. They were thanked profusely, and as a gift they were given some food and a old fisherman’s boat. At the moment there was no going back. They were seen as a threat to marines. Over time they begin to build a bounty, and start their life as the Lionheart pirates. Stopping at the next island Leonis and Ian would unknowingly meet their next crewmate on this island. As soon as they gathered their supplies and got some food at a near by bar things got bad with a encounter with a mercenary turns out the marine captain of the base didn't like being outed in such away. The hired killer caused quite a ruckus. Knocking  Ian unconscious  and wounding Leonis's shoulder. Making the decision to retreat and regroup. She grabbed her cook and decided to run into the crowd. Finally after losing him she ran into a back alley.  Trying to catch her breath after hauling the injured Ian's body at a frantic pace. She only hopped they got away when she heard a nearby doorway creak open. Slightly panicking our sunflower was met with a young woman. Stella Locke the blondewoman with bright blue eyes that had seemingly lost a spark was treat both crewmates in her office behind the door in the alley. "Thanks for treating us." The blonde  glanced up from working on Ian. "Oh you're welcome, can't say I'm doing it out of the kindness of my heart though. You are going to pay me after this. Right? "  A shocked Leonis recovered "Right." "So why the office in the alley way." "That's not important is it? Asking for information will cost you extra. but a piece of advice in the town you'll get in trouble prying into others lives. This town hasn't ever been very friendly." "Can't say I'm surprised your asking questions though you do look like outsiders." Finally understanding this woman was brash, cautious, and more than likely had a past that was too soon to share with strangers, Leonis lightened up putting her bright and cheer atmosphere. "Thanks for your advice. It's appreciated we are not from here. We were traveling here together our some friends for our crew. We got into quite the mess helping out some people on the island before this one. So as soon as you're done, I'll give you the money and we will be out of the way. " Smiling cause a crack in Stella's blank face causing her to smile in return, "As soon as I'm done with him you'll be next and after you pay you can stay until he wakes up. We won't have much business today anyway. " Surprisgly they had stayed awhile, when Ian had woken he cooked for his captain and the doctor, the three of them had shared a nice meal. She enjoyed that, it felt like it had been forever since talked to anyone friendly. She never enjoyed helping other as much as he had them. She felt happy. Actually she longed to go with them. After Ian and Leonis left Stella was greeted with the drunken angry doctor coming home and remembered why that was impossible. She was sold to the doctor by her parents to pay for their medical bills so they wouldn’t get killed by his ‘debt collectors.’ He forced to learn medicine and surgery in the worst of ways. She had long suffered while she still was the gentle and kind person she always had been working for that monster of a man an with his shady costumers taughter her how to keep to herself among other things. He was already a asleep. She would have to deal with him tomorrow afternoon when he awoke.-----Earlier the next day Ian and Leonis had took down the hunter that was prusing them." Lets celebrate by buying some food and going to see Stella!", "Whatever you want captain."  When they arrived they heard yelling, cussing, thing being thrown, being alarmed, They immedatiely busted open the door and on the floor was Stella tears in her eyes, bruises, cuts, and handprints forming. They were both upset with what they had just seen."Ian get Stella and get her out of here." Leonis was furious Ian had never seen her like this in the few months he'd known his captain not even the marine based incedent had upset her this much. She was seriously pissed off. "But captain.." "No you got to have your fun with the hunter, I'm gonna wreck this place and this awful person with it. No but's about it. Now please take Stella to a safe place and treat her then we'll go have our lunch together." As soon as they were gone things got serious. She kicked some equipment out of her way as they locked up in a fight. After blow was exchanged for a ordinary man he was was pretty good at dodging then she recived a cut to her cheek. He was brandishing a scapel. That's gotta go she gowled at him. knocking it out of his hand, she launched her self at him knocking him to theground where she punched him into a unconcious mess. She took something that appeared to be Stella's and left the office/apparment building in ruins. As she arrived Stella was asleep on Ian's bed. He nearly fainted when he saw the shape of his captain. She had dried blood on her. A few minor scratches and injuries, the dark and distant look was still in place. When he finally called out asking if she was okay,  she snapped out of it. "Yeah I do occasionally lose control when I'm mad but just fine. Is food almost done?" Going back to the chipper young lady that she was. "No it still likes alittle bit wanna clean up?" She gasped "Are you saying that I look and smell awful sir? " playful joking with him watching him squrim trying to fix his words. She broke out into laughter. " Relax Ian, I was planning on it actually, I do look rough. I let him land more hits on me than I should have. I didn't draw my sword once cause I was so angry. " WIthout waiting to hear a reply she dashed towards the bathroom. The hot shower felt nice, she dried off and put on some comfy shorts and a tank top floping down on the couch yawn. "We've had a busy day. " Just then Ian's door opened. "Leonis? Ian?"  In the kitchen Ian shouted, popping up like a daisy nearly giving the blonde a heartattack. "How bout a warning like your friend in the kitchen." Giggling a quick I'm sorry before melting into a smile. "You don't have to worry about that man anymore. You're free to live how you want. I got your things ." The blonde eyes widen. "What do you mean? What xactly happened?" Ian came out of the kitchen you can talk more after dinner which is done now. Losing her serious dinner. "Yay lets go Stella, Ian cooking its the best!" Ian looked at her "All you need to know is the captain took care of it and that you shouldn't worry about the past, just your present and future should be your focus now. It's kinda her thing to wanna help others even if it means putting her journey and goals to the side for awhile. That's just the kinda person she is."  "Ian, Stella! If your not in here in a few minutes to eat with me, I'm eating yours to!" A panicked look shot over his face, "Lets go or she will. I don't understand how that tiny 5'6ft frame hold all that food." Hurrying the there the three began to eat, talk, and joke around. It felt like they were a family. "Leonis are you by chance needing a doctor in your crew?" Stella asked. A smile lit her face. "Of course you want to join us?!" she asked getting excited. Receiving a nod. "I didn't always like this thing, I hated being a doctor, because of that awful man, but it won't be so bad. I actually enjoy helping out, and I want to be the best doctor in the world. " This is more like it. Finally we're looking like a decent crew. A cook, a doctor, and a swordsman for a captain. I specialize in knives, what about you Stella? I'm pretty good with talking myself out of tough situations.  Weapon wise guns (mainly pistols) , surgeons knife and other tools. I wanna find a special devil fruit, the mirror mirror fruit, rumor has it  you can make illusions with it, weapons, reflect and deflect attacks.  "OH your the coolest doctor ever, I'll definitely help you find that. It's a captains promise! I say we do a few more odd Jobs here, stock up on supplies and head out to find that fruit, maybe pick up some more crewmates along the way?" "Sounds like a fine plan to me captain." "What do you think Stella?" "Sounds great but how about one more day of rest before that?" "We can manage that. We'll put our plan into action of the next day of rest." Little did they know they were going to run into their next crewmate son enough. After their day od partying and relaxing the Stella and Ian went on to the task assigned to them. Leonis however wanted to find a carpenter/ well a repairman for the ship and all the odds and end jobs. Alot of the guys were interested until she said her crew ship and other things. "Sorry honey but I don't do those kind of jobs" "Sorry sweet thing you looked cute when you first approached me but I gotta go." "sorry no time to talk to a girl like you" "Wait, why won't anyone talk to me or help?" She sighed frustrated after the last guy had. Let without sparing her a glance. "What jerks. AN they call themselves men of craft. I'll help you,my names Max, miss what do you need?" She teared up. " I need help with everything my ship is falling apart and me and the other two don't have a clue on how to fix anything. It's a nightmare, thats just a few things, I really need a fulltime person. " She began to ramble. Finally a chuckle broke through and she stopped puffing out her cheeks thinking everything was a joke to everyone, how she wasn't taken seriously cause she was a young woman. "Calm down, I'll repair what I can but did you just asked me to become a member of your crew?' She tilted her head. She smiled a small smile already knowing an answer. I did kinda just ask you to become a member without thinking along with the other list of things I needed done. "I'll do it" Blinking. "I'm an impulsive man, while I take time and pride in my crafts I get bored easy this is the 2nd town I've been to in a month. I like to work and travel. So That offer a serious one. "Yes of course I'd love to have you aboard." Lets go back to the ship. After assessing it he began tearing things apart nearly giving her a hearttack. My motto is ‘You gotta know how to take something apart to build it better, so let’s destroy it.' He was quick to make repairs just as the other two came back. What is that behemoth doing? Ian that's not nice. He's repairing the ship and he's Our new crewmate! What?! I know I've been out of his way but I'd occasionally ask him a question when he was on break. On top of being strong, and a great repairman . He's good close ranger fighter, but he likes using his creations to fight. (Bombs, traps, guns, cannons, etc) Stella seemed interest. "You work fast captain." As she said that Max appear, His sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, tanned skinned, revealing his muscle. Stella whistled. "He's not from here either is he captain?" Ian Gawked at her I thought we were bonding like you and captain were yesterday. Flashing him a smile we were, I had fun. Don't get jealous cause your not the only male in the crew anymore this could be good for you. It'll even the score when you disagree with me and the captain. " Sighing stop trying to cheer me up" all of them boarded and and put the supplies away when Ian began cooking. There was plenty of talking about what would happen the next few days. The next day they decided to set sail bright an early. The next island and hopefully to find some information on the mirror mirror fruit. Join us next time as the Lionheart pirates continue their journey!