#she's literally so soldiers + slipping through my fingers + should i laugh or cry coded and she didn't even get to know it 😔

[overtail]

hey queen it’s me sawda with another toph ask </3 (im toph content deprived literally crying) but!! can i req a toph x fem!r where toph’s s/o is literally mulan but in the firebending army?? Thank you!!!

YES ILL DO THAT HEHE I LOVE TOPH!!

ALSO just wanna make yall aware my pronouns are they/them

I'm also so sorry for the delay. I've been on the worst writers block due to a lack of motivation. my whole family was sick, and we've been unable to pick up my anti-depressants 😭

...

Little Soldier - Toph x F!Reader

Summary: When Toph's lover turns 13, she tells her that she has to fight alongside the fire nation to protect her family.

Trigger Warning: Sexism, Implied racism, Forbidden love

Info: Pre-Book 2, long hair reader

...

'We're not gonna lose anyone else close to us again

We swore that we would always be there for each other

No matter what happens though, I promise that I'll protect you

If you were a boy

I would have actually have fallen for you if you were careful

Oh, c'mon, well maybe I'm the one who should have a crush on you'

...

"Watcha doin?" Toph feet dug into the dirt of the valley's grass, trying to identify (Y/N)'s action. Her delt held a look of confusion as se did so.

"Im just.." (Y/N) began, glancing back at Toph as she thought. "Thinking."

She held a clump of hair in her fingers, combing her digits through the strands. Something was obviously on her mind, like she was stuck in a loop up in her little head.

"About what?" Toph shuffled over, crouching down so she was eye level (if you wanted to say that) with the other. She smiled softly while (Y/N) thought: only if she knew

"You know how theres news of the Avatar returning?" (Y/N) whispered, letting out a shaky breath. Toph hummed a quiet 'yes', letting her feet slip so she would fall on her bottom. "And you also know how they're drafting men from the fire nation?"

Toph wondered where this was going. She modded carefully, feeling the floor to hear (Y/N)'s heartbeat. It was fast paced, causing the earthbender to worry.

"Yeah. Are people in your village getting drafted?" Toph questioned, thinking about all the possibilities. She heard (Y/N) sigh.

"Worse. My dad was given a note specifically by the current general." Toph's eyebrows raised at her words, realization hitting. (Y/N)'s father used to fight a long time ago, starting when he was just a boy. This was before she was born, before he met his wife.

He was regarded as one of the most intense, bloodthirsty, and brutal generals in history - behind the Dragon of the West. Though, he was old now; not fit for war.

Toph didn't know what to say. She wasn't particularly fond of the fire nation, but she was fond of (Y/N).

The girl across from her sighed, continuing to comb her digits in her hair. How would she tell Toph?

(Y/N) looked up, her face flushing red at the sight of Toph's oblivious face. She looked so calm in the moment, the valley wind ruffling up her hair. During these secret meetings, Toph would let her hair down. The soft locks ran down her back, some falling over her shoulders.

(Y/N) thought she was beautiful.

"Well, I was thinking," (Y/N) let go of her hair, moving to pick at the nail of her index finger. A sickness caused from nervousness settled in her stomach. "of pretending to be a boy."

Toph laughed, not quite knowing what she meant. "Why would you want to do that?" She smirked, before the smile faltered.

Oh.

"Wait, you're not saying-"

"I'm going to take my fathers place as his eldest son." (Y/N) interjected, her breath hitching at the words. Saying it out loud made the reality hit her light a train - realizing that it wasn't just an idea. This was happening.

Toph stayed unusually silent. She wasn't too expressive when it came to her face, but even now (Y/N) couldn't read her. Was she angry? Happy? Scared? What. was she feeling?

"How?"

(Y/N) raised a brow, confused by the question. "What do you mean?"

Toph pursed her lips, her eye brows knitting together. "How are you going to pretend to look like a boy?"

Even though Toph couldn't see her, she knew that boys and girls looked different.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath, gripping at her hair lightly. Her family always forced her into the ideal of a perfect, feminine woman - but in secret, she was strong, aggressive, and messy. Even though her personality was changed, her looks were still influenced by her family's wants. Her hair was long, and she wore fancy clothes and makeup.

"Oh, uhm.." (Y/N) was hesitant. She knew, but she sounded like she was protecting herself from her own words. "I'm gonna cut my hair.."

Toph raised an eyebrow, intrigued by (Y/N)'s response. "Cut your hair, huh? That's a bold move. How short are we talking?"

(Y/N) swallowed nervously, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve. "I-I don't know... Short enough to pass as a boy, I guess."

Toph nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, let's do it."

Later that day, the two sat in her bedroom, Toph listening to the sound of (Y/N) snipping her hair. The locks fell onto the floor, sticking to clothes and to skin. After some time, (Y/N) found herself spaced on on Toph's bed, watching her every move.

As Toph unraveled her hair, the room was filled with the sound of gentle brushing, the rhythmic motion soothing in its familiarity. She worked through each tangle with practiced ease, her movements fluid and deliberate.

(Y/N) watched in silence, mesmerized by the way Toph's fingers danced through her hair, untangling knots with effortless grace. There was something intimate about the moment, a quiet exchange between friends bound by unspoken understanding.

"Your hair is beautiful," (Y/N) said softly, breaking the silence.

Toph glanced up, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks. It's a pain to manage sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Do you ever wish you could cut it short, like mine?"

Toph paused, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes, yeah. It would be easier, especially when I'm training. But... it's a part of who I am, you know? Cutting it would feel like losing a piece of myself."

(Y/N) nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. "I get that."

Toph set down the brush, turning to face (Y/N) fully. "I get that you're worried. I can sense it. Your heart is racing." Toph walked over to her bed where (Y/N) sat, sinking into the mattress. "I'm gonna miss you, but I also believe in you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) felt a weight lift off her shoulders, a sense of freedom washing over her. With Toph's unwavering support, she knew she could embrace her true self, messy hair and all. And as they sat together, basking in the warmth of their friendship, (Y/N) realized that sometimes, the most beautiful thing about a person isn't their appearance, but the authenticity of their spirit.

(Y/N) turned her head to look at toph, her face going red at the sight of her graceful face, She wanted to kiss her. Yeah, she did.

As (Y/N) gazed at Toph, her cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment. She was captivated by the gentle curve of Toph's lips, the sparkle in her eyes that hinted at hidden depths. And in that moment, a realization washed over her with startling clarity – she wanted to kiss her.

The thought sent a shiver down (Y/N)'s spibe, her heart pounding in her chest as she wrestled with her emotions. It was a risk, she knew, to confess her feelings, especially when their friendship hung in the balance. But the longing in her chest was too powerful to ignore, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

With trembling hands, (Y/N) reached out, cupping Toph's cheek gently as she leaned in, her heart pounding in her ears. And then, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a silent affirmation of the emotions that had been brewing beneath the surface.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they savored the sweetness of the moment, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony. And when they finally pulled away, their breath mingling in the air, (Y/N) found herself smiling, a sense of peace settling over her like a warm blanket.

Toph blinked in surprise, her lips curved in a soft smile. (Y/N) chuckled nervously, her cheeks still tinged with pink. And as they sat together, their fingers intertwined, (Y/N) had already started to realize what she was committing to. She's leaving. She's leaving to fight in a war that seemed as if it was never going to end to save her family.

As the reality of (Y/N)'s impending departure settled in, a somber silence descended upon the room, casting a shadow over the warmth of their shared moment. Toph's smile faltered slightly, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

(Y/N) squeezed Toph's hand tightly, her own heart heavy with the weight of her decision. She had made up her mind to fight in the war, to confront the forces that threatened her her homeland. But with each passing moment, the prospect of leaving Toph behind grew more daunting.

"I... I have to go," (Y/N) murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Toph nodded slowly, her expression a mixture of understanding and sadness. "I know," she said softly. "And I'll be here waiting for you when you get back. No matter what."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she leaned forward, resting her forehead against Toph's. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Toph wrapped her arms around (Y/N) in a tight embrace, holding her close as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of the world outside. "You won't have to find out," she promised, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.

And as they held each other in the quiet of the room, (Y/N) found solace in Toph's arms, knowing that no matter how far apart they may be, their bond would endure.

Toph was her best friend, Toph was her girl. Toph was, well, Toph, and how could anyone forget someone like her?

...

should I make a part 2

[ghostedeabha]

hello! i read your family fic and absolutely loved it with all my heart<3333 i was wondering if you could write more about the riley family :33

maybe they’re celebrating someone in the family’s birthday! your pick on who it is :D

but i would love to see what you do with this<3333

you ask for birthday and i raise you:

soldier returning home for his children's birthday🥰

i hope you enjoy !! <3

simon "ghost" riley x mom!reader/children!ocs

word count: 1433

warnings: pure pure fluff, tears of joy, so so so so much crying from reader and the 17 year old son (bc men are allowed to be vulnerable too <3)

a/n: simon returing from a mission early for the twins' fourth birthday?? i think yes :) idk why but this is immediately what came to mind when i read this request. this fic takes place just before the riley family vacation to soap's beach house <3 in my mind it's like early july

a/n 2.0: also we officially have names for the riley kids. bug, matthew, lyla and luka <3

--------

"mandy it's not his fault he can't be here, he's literally in a another country fighting a war right now. i'm sure he's just as heartbroken about it as the rest of us." you sighed to your sister in law.

it was the twins' fourth birthday, you and your sister's wife mandy, were in the kitchen prepping the food for their birthday party in 20 minutes.

"i don't know, i just think he should've asked for the time off. he knows when his kids' birthdays are." the blonde said as she cut up some strawberries.

"he can't just request time off in his job. his job isn't like a 9-5 mandy."

you were starting to get frustrated with the conversation so you just decided to change the topic and turn the attention towards the stars of the day, the twins.

"anyhow, the twins are going to wake up from their nap any minute now so i'm gonna go upstairs and shower really quick before i lose the opportunity."

"alright, i'll start bringing the food and games outside."

"okay, bug and matthew should be out there setting up the tables and decorations so ask them for help if you need it. when is erin coming back again?"

"she said she'd be back just after the party started, she needs to go pick up the rest of lyla and luka's gifts."

"gifts? plural? mandy, you two already brought like four seperate bags of gifts! they're four they don't need this much." you replied with a laugh, disbelief overtaking you as mandy reveals her and your sister were absolutely spoiling your children.

"they deserve it! plus, i promise, you'll like this last part she's getting too. now go! go! get your shower."

"god, you two are insufferable." you mutter, mostly to yourself, with a slight laugh as you walk up the stairs to get to your room and take a quick shower.

almost immediately after you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, the cries of one of the twins rang through the house, their cries triggering the cries from their twin. you let out a soft sigh and dried yourself off as quickly as possible and slipped on your bathrobe, making your way to the twins' room.

"awake from your nap my darlings?" you say softly as you enter their room and approach their separate cribs.

lifting luka from his crib first, you hold him out for a moment and then bring him close, pressed to your chest.

"happy birthday, my sweet pumpkin." you say softly, rocking the crying infant whose cries die down slowly now that he is in the arms of someone safe and loving.

you walk over to lyla's crib, adjusting luka in your arms to carry him in just one so you can reach in a hand to lyla to let her know you're there.

her cries begin to cease as she grabs at your hand.

"hi there baby, did you nap well angel? happy birthday~" you coo at her.

lyla nods as she grabs at your fingers.

"i'm gonna put your brother in here with you for a moment so i can go get your outfits." you tell her with a smile as you set luka in the crib with lyla.

you turn to their dresser and pick out their outfits for the party, you suppose you'll just have to get dressed in a few minutes.

it was a bit of a struggle to get the outfits on thr twins, both having woken from their naps with a lot of energy meanth they were wiggling around as you were trying to change them and that only prolonged the task.

eventually though, you were successful and placed the two down onto the floor and smiled at them. "goodness, look at how cute you two are... gotta take a picture for daddy, yeah? look at mummy, smile!"

you take your phone out from the pocket if your bathrobe and snap a picture of lyla and luka, adorable smiles on their faces.

a small twinge of sadness pokes at you as you take the picture, sad that simon will only get to see them on their birthday through a picture. celebrating his babies' birthday alone on base.

nonetheless you shake off your negative thoughts and pocket your phone once more, picking the twins up and carrying them both back to your room so you could keep an eye on them as you tried your best to get ready in time for the party

you were now 40 minutes into the party, games being played, the bunch of kids in your backyard ran around and laughed happily. you scanned the area, taking note of where all your own children are.

bug was playing in the dirt with lyla, probably looking for critters, something they bonded over frequently.

matthew was playing tag with luka and some of the other little kids, letting them tag him as they played.

"erin should be back in about five or so minutes." mandy says from behind you, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness.

"jeez! oh, okay.." you reply, putting a hand over your heart to calm yourself as you laughed a little from nerves.

"we should probably start opening presents, yeah?" mandy suggests, motioning to the overflowing presents table.

you couldn't say you didn't spoil your kids, that's for sure.

"yeah, you're right." you nod and begin to call out to the guests and your family.

"guys! it's time for presents and cake!"

"present!" you hear luka scream excitedly, beginning to try and run over to you.

you laugh at his cuteness and sit down, letting everyone gather around, situating the twins on your lap while they open their presents.

you were almost to the end of all the presents when you heard the patio door slid open and closed, erin walking through with a few bags in her hands.

"so sorry i'm late! but i have lots of presents!" she calls, waking over to you and the twins as she holds up the bags.

"here, here, take them." she says, pushing them all onto the table.

"thanks erin, you really didn't have to get this much." you reply with a laugh, letting both of the twins reach out to try and grab the bags, you make sure they grab their own bags, watching as they opened them excitedly.

"okay, erin and i have one more present, but it's for all five of you. gimme just a minute, i'll be right back with it, it's a big gift." mandy says as the twins finish opening their presents.

this makes you look at erin and mandy, a confused and almost worried look on your face. you knew your sister and her wife pretty well and there's so many ways this could go.

mandy runs into the house as everyone at the party waits in anticipation for whatever the hell mandy could've brought.

when mandy returns, her gift is the very last thing you expect.

simon walks through the back door with her, a smile on his unmasked face.

"daddy!" lyla squeals loudly, wiggling from your lap to run over to simon, hugging his leg as she cried from her overwhelming happiness.

"dad?!" you hear matthew and bug yell in shock, both of their voices cracking.

matthew full on runs into simon's arms, hugging his father as tight as he possible could as he also cried, overwhelmed by shock and happiness. he sobbed hard into simon's shoulder as simon chuckled and rubbed his back. "missed you too bud."

"oh my god.. simon?" you say softly, getting up from your seat as you keep luka in your shaking arms.

"c'mere, love." simon responds, motioning in a come hither motion to you.

like you were on autopilot, your feet carried you and luka over to simon, joining in on the family hug. bug was the last to join, wrapping their arms tightly around simon from behind.

"i missed you all so much..." simon says softly, quiet enough for just your sweet little family to hear.

"we missed you too dad." matthew says between sniffles, his emotions still getting the best of him.

"and happy birthday to my two little rascals, you're... three now right?" simon says, teasing the twins.

"no! daddy silly! we dis many." lyla says with a giggle, holding up four fingers in her father's face.

"ah yes, my mistake princess." he chuckles and gives her little head a kiss.

this was definitely the best birthday party you could've ever had for the twins.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Seven Drinks

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: There's a reason Y/N has never had more than 3 drinks around the other avengers, and they're about to find out.

Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, panic attacks, angst (don't worry there's fluff too)

Word Count: 4322

a/n: This is inspired by that episode of Brooklyn 99 with 6 drink Amy (I adopted that concept!) and also Halsey's album Manic. :) I hope you like it. Anything in bold is a lyric from one of the songs on the album!

Please let me know if I messed up the trigger warning tags! I've never written anything like this before, so I just want to make sure I do it right.

Masterlist

"We're having a party tonight." Tony's announcement was met with the usual groans of annoyance at having to schmooze with the typical socialites that attended Tony's party. "You know, you are so ungrateful sometimes. here I am trying to throw you a party, and you're complaining!"

"Tony, we all appreciate the effort you go to, but- at least speaking for me- I don't like people." Y/N's response was effortless, swiftly calming Tony and explaining the reactions.

"That is why-" Tony stuttered when he actually registered the words you said. "That doesn't sound like you at all. And besides, this is a party for just us. It'll be more like team building, but without any pre-planned activities. No "smarmy, rich people" to deal with." He directed his last sentence at Bucky, Steve, and Sam.

The team actually seemed excited at the prospect, albeit skeptical of Tony's motivations.

Unsurprisingly, Nat worked up the courage to question him on it first, "what's the catch?"

"No catch. Just friends, food, and lots of alcohol." His grin quickly shifted into a smirk as the entire room turned to look at you.

You groaned slightly, not wanting all the attention. "Look, there is a reason I cap myself at 3 drinks." Holding up one finger, you started to explain, "One drink Y/N is barely any different from my sober self."

Wanda quickly cut you off, "not true! You get louder." She smirked, happy to have added that tidbit of information.

"Fine." With a laugh, you admitted she was right. "I might get the tiniest bit louder." You held up a second finger to continue your explanation, but were once again cut off.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just your happy, bubbly, and slightly louder than normal personality shining through!" Nat added, seeing an opportunity to tease you for being so positive all the time.

"Thanks Nat. Anyway," emphasizing the rudeness of being interrupted twice, you continued, "two drink Y/N is more touchy feely than normal. Not in a creepy way though!"

"I love two drink Y/N. She gives the best hugs!" Thor eagerly added to the conversation, glad to have dropped by when he did.

"Thanks Thor." With a small smile in his direction, you held up a third finger. "Three drink Y/N is the perfect amount of just past tipsy to have fun without doing anything extremely embarrassing. It makes the most sense to stop there." You finished her little speech with your typical smile and a resolute nod of your head.

"Seriously, you need to relax. Just let loose this one time!" Sam tried to encourage you. With the eyes of nearly every avenger set on you, your resolve didn't last very long.

"Fine! Maybe I'll have a fourth drink." You were met with cheers as you rose from your spot on the couch, trying to prepare for the night that was to come.

--

As soon as you stepped off the elevator, you had a drink in your hand. Clearly your friends were going to make sure you got a fourth drink. even Steve seemed excited when he saw you, although his golden boy personality didn't disappear completely.

"You sure about this? I don't want you to feel pressured!" Bucky nodded, weirdly enthusiastically, before adding, "Yeah doll, don't drink more than you want to."

"You two are too sweet. Sam's right, but don't tell him I said that." You winked at the two super soldiers, emphasizing the joke. "I should let myself relax sometimes. I'm in a safe place, with friends who won't let anything happen to me. What could a few more drinks really do?" You couldn't help but smile at how true that was. You were surrounded by people who care about you.

"Oh, so now it's a few more drinks? What are we talking here, six drink Y/N? Seven?" Bucky teased.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ducky." You teased right back, knowing how flustered he got at the pet name. Steve laughed at his friend as you walked away, ready for your second drink.

--

Before long, you had your fourth drink in your hand. It was slightly odd how literally everyone was staring at you, but your were three drink Y/N at the time, so you were drunk enough not to care.

You downed the fourth drink, unprepared for the consequences.

"So, Y/N... how do you feel?" Clint braved the waters, everyone eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"That is so nice of you to ask! I feel great! I don't think I've ever been this happy." You jumped up and down, hugging Clint with a huge smile on your face.

"How did you get even happier?" Tony chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you not like it?" Like a switch had been flipped, you were nearly crying.

"What?! No!" Tony was so taken aback at the tears pooling in your eyes, he froze, unsure how to fix it. He looked around the room for help, but everyone else was just as shocked as him.

"I'll fix it!" You were at the bar, fixing another drink before anyone fully comprehended your mood swing.

You walked back up to the group, sipping from your fifth drink as if nothing happened. "What?" You questioned the odd looks, but before receiving an answer you squealed, again jumping up and down. "Let's dance!" You turned around, ready to move to the more open area before looking back over your shoulder, "Wanda! Nat! Pepper! Come on!"

The women shared a look, ultimately shrugging before joining you on the makeshift dance floor.

-

"Bucky, you've been staring at her for 20 straight minutes. When are you finally gonna talk to her?" Steve couldn't help but pester him about his feelings.

"I can't help it. I've never seen her dance so much. I mean, I know she's always happy, but this is a whole new level." He didn't take his eyes off of you, even when he was responding. "I can't tell her tonight, though. This is the most she's had to drink in years."

He watched as you moved back over to the bar, needing another drink after dancing so much.

"Here we go, six drink Y/N." Bucky gestured to the bar. Steve shook his head, but allowed the change of topic.

-

About five minutes after your sixth drink, you were somehow bounding around with even more energy. You were nearly running around the room, trying to talk to everyone at once.

"Ducky! Have I ever told you I took gymnastics lessons for 7 years when I was younger?" You were bouncing with pent up energy, excited to be sharing more information about yourself.

"No, you've actually never mentioned that." He smiled, enraptured by your childlike enthusiasm, so enraptured that he didn't notice the mischief in your eyes.

"Well, I did! Watch this." You handed a confused Bucky your now empty glass, turning and throwing your arms up. Bucky realized two late what was happening, and with both yours and his glasses in his hands, he couldn't physically stop you.

"Y/N, wait!" His shout had everyone turn and look as you flawlessly executed two cartwheels in a row.

Bucky would swear your smile got even bigger as you turned around to look at him again.

"Normally I can do more, but" you hiccuped, then lowered your voice to a really terrible whisper, "I'm a little drunk." You leaned into him, laughing as if you just told a joke.

Wanda walked up to you with a seventh drink, hoping seven drink Y/N had a little less energy, but happy to see you having so much fun. "Here ya go! One more of your favorites, just like you asked."

"Thank youuuuuu!" You shifted to hug Wanda, leaving Bucky to miss your added warmth.

-

You sipped your seventh drink slower than the rest, quickly running out of energy. Sliding the empty glass across the bar, you slipped out of the party unnoticed, making your way to the kitchen for some pickles- your favorite drunk food.

Your seventh drink hit you just after you opened the pickles. Gone was the happy, bubbly persona you showed the world. The mask slipped away, leaving you alone to contemplate your life choices.

You made your way to to the lounge just outside of the kitchen, choosing to lay on the floor behind the couch and stare out of the large floor to ceiling windows.

-

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky glanced around the room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Huh? Oh, she said she wanted a snack." A very drunk Wanda turned to look at where the food was set up, scrunching her face in confusion when she couldn't find you. "Weird. Maybe she went to the bathroom?"

Bucky, having noticed your absence 8 minutes ago, didn't think you left for a bathroom break. "Maybe." Plus, you always took the girls to the bathroom with you. His eyes flitted about the room, taking one more glance before deciding to go look for you.

He decided to head for the kitchen since Wanda said you wanted a snack. He laughed at the open jar of pickles, knowing you at least passed through this room. He put the pickles away before popping his head into the lounge area.

"Y/N?" He called out, figuring this was the most likely location for you to end up.

You hummed in response, not moving from your spot on the floor. Bucky walked further into the room, slightly confused as to why he could hear you but not see you. That is, until he realized you were laying on the floor behind the couch.

"Why are you on the floor?" He smiled when he found you.

"I'm just looking at the sky." Your voice held a melancholy air as it floated through the room. Bucky's smile faltered, not used to hearing you sad. In the three years he's known you, he's only ever seen you sad because of a movie or tv show. Otherwise, you were quite literally always happy.

"Why-" he faltered, unsure how to check on you. "Is everything okay?" he nearly choked the words out, feeling slightly stressed at your sudden gloominess.

"Yeah." You took a deep breath, slowly letting it out in a deep sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I don't know." You sigh again, still looking at the sky.

Bucky chances another question, wanting to get you talking since you're acting so off. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel... so sorry." You words were so soft that Bucky could barely hear them.

"Sorry?" He tried to hide his confusion, matching your soft tone as he sat down a few feet away from you. "About what doll?"

"Just... because I feel so sad." Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn't stop staring at the sky.

"What are you sad about?" It's taking everything in him for Bucky not to hold you right now. He doesn't want to make you even more upset, especially because he's never seen you like this.

"No one around me knows who I am..." He watched as a tear rolled down your cheek, shining in the light from the moon.

Bucky moves closer, just close enough for him to reach out and hold your hand. You squeeze it, instant relief flooding through him that he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "I'm not breaking. I won't take it. And I won't ever feel this way again." Your voice is harder, as if your angry with yourself.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay to have feelings. You're allowed to feel like this. Don't push it away. Talk to me. Why don't you think anyone knows who you are? We're all here for you, Y/N." He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, trying to convey how serious he is.

You let out a dry laugh, wiping the the tears from your cheek. "My self preservation..." Bucky can tell there's more to, choosing to wait for you to continue. "All of my reservations..." You sigh again, sitting up, you scoot closer until you can lean your forehead against his shoulder. "I bottle it up. I'm my own biggest enemy." You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head without moving it from its resting place on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky wraps his arm around you and leans his cheek against your head. "Take your time. You can talk to me." He whispered, trying to keep you talking without getting mad at yourself again.

"Well, I'd like to tell you that my sky is not blue, it's violent rain." The sounds of your sniffles break his heart. "I just pretend everything's fine because that's what I had to do when I was younger." Rather then interrupting, Bucky continues to rub small circles on your hand and your back, encouraging you to continue when you're ready. "Can I tell you a story? I... I think it'll help explain some of it."

"Of course. Anything you need, doll." He curses himself for the pet name, not wanting you to think he's joking. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

"Thank you, ducky." You chuckle, but your words are just as sincere as his. "You know I have two sisters, and I love them with all my heart, but sometimes growing up with them was hard. My older sister, she put so much pressure on herself to succeed. And, she did. She was so good at everything she did, that I felt like I had to be just as perfect.

With my younger sister, it was like it was effortless. She put just as much, if not more pressure on herself. but, she could do anything she tried to, with almost no learning curve. I always felt this crazy amount of pressure to be just as good.

My parents, they didn't really help with that. I mean, they were so supportive and I'm so grateful to them, but it was a lot of pressure. The summer between my junior and senior year of college, I wanted to get an internship. Ya know, to get some experience. It would set me up better for getting a job after graduation.

I spent months looking and applying, but nothing was working out. So, I went home for the summer. My mom would come home everyday and ask me if I got a job yet.

I spent nearly every waking hour looking for a job, even just a part time one for the summer. So one day, when we sat down for dinner and she asked if I got a job yet..."

Bucky could feel how tense you were telling this story, but he knew you needed to get it out.

"I told her, 'no, not yet' and she just seemed so disappointed. She asked if I was even applying and I snapped.

I yelled at her, something that had never really happened before. I told her I was trying. I was doing everything I could. She yelled at me for yelling and said it wasn't unreasonable to ask for updates.

I yelled right back. I kept saying I spend all day everyday trying and just when I finally get a break, she walks in and brings it all up again. I was stressed enough without her constant reminders.

I ended up running away from the table, in tears. I hid in the bathroom, there... there was a pair of scissors on the counter and I really thought about killing myself that day."

The tears are pouring out of you at this point. Bucky threw caution to the wind. He picked you up, maneuvering you to sit across his lap and lean your head on his chest. He kept rubbing circles into your back, murmuring words of encouragement.

"My younger sister tried to check on me, but I wouldn't open the door. My mom stomped down the hallway to her bedroom. I was full on having a panic attack in the hallway bathroom. I think I stayed in there for an hour before I went back to the dinner table.

My dad was in the kitchen. He put my plate in the microwave to heat up dinner for me. I ate through near constant tears, it only got worse every time he tried to ask me what happened. Why I snapped like that.

I wanted to apologize to my mom for yelling, so after I ate I went to her room. I knocked, and when she told me to come in I opened the door. I just remember her looking so angry.

I apologized. I told her I was sorry for yelling. She said something about not being unreasonable again. I cried again. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I was scared.

I couldn't put it into words though, so when she asked me 'of what?' I just shrugged. Then, she asked me if I was on my period.

God. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell at her again, To make her understand 'I only wanna die some days. But if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?' I decided that day that I would never try to tell anyone how I actually felt."

Bucky holds you as you cry. You're not sure how long it's been when you can finally breathe enough to talk again.

"I just, so many people have bigger problems then me. I grew up in a loving household. I went to college and made friends. I got a job after I graduated. So why am I so sad sometimes? I just wanna scream but what’s the use? At night, I lay awake and I stare at the door, I just can’t take it no more."

Bucky continues comforting you when he speaks again. "Just because other people have problems, doesn't mean yours are irrelevant. You are 100% allowed to feel however you feel, even if it seems like there's no reason for it. Have you ever thought about talking to someone about all of this? I know you just said you haven't told anyone how you actually feel for years, but I think it could help." He smiled nervously when you raised your head to look at him.

"I have actually. I joked about it a lot with my roommate right out of college. I always used to say 'everybody needs therapy' as a joke. Of course, I meant it. Most people probably do need therapy." You laughed, moving your arms around Bucky's neck to hug him. "Thank you for listening to me. I like talking to you."

Of course, Bucky noticed your smile didn't reach your eyes. He was confident in his words when he spoke again. "You can always talk to me. I'll always be there to listen." He followed that with a less confident "What's been bothering you today?"

"Oh, nothing that serious. It's just all pent up inside, ya know?" You smiled again, hiding your face so he couldn't see your lies.

Of course, he could still hear it in your voice. "Y/N, you can tell me. I want to be here for you."

"I... It's just, my insecurities are hurting me." You laughed at yourself. "Here we go with the fucking riddles, again. On the plus side, I think I've cried so much I'm back to one drink Y/N."

"Well, it has been 3 hours since I left to come find you." You were grateful for Bucky's joke, needing something to lift the mood a bit. "But, don't try and change the subject. I still want to know what's got you all sad." His words were light, but you knew how serious he was.

You took a deep breath, burying your head in his neck. "How could somebody ever love me?" You spoke into his shirt, not moving your head back even an inch.

"You know I can't understand you when you talk into my neck like that." Bucky tried joking, but even he knew it would do little to calm your fears.

You moved back, lips still grazing his skin when you repeated yourself, "how could somebody ever love me?"

Bucky wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you how much he loves you. He would gladly spend every day of his life loving you, but he didn't think this was the right time. Not when you just poured your heart out to him. So he settled for the almost truth.

"Anyone would be lucky to love you. You are selfless. You put everyone else first, no matter what. You always make sure everyone has a reason to smile, even when things aren't going right. You tell the best jokes. You're great at cuddling." He squeezes you closer to him, emphasizing the point. "You are beautiful, inside and out. Everyone who comes into contact with you automatically has a better day. You are incredibly strong and independent. I've never met anyone so incredibly good. Even Steve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

His words brought more tears to your eyes, pooling in the corners. "Then how come everyone that I’ve dated says they hate it cause they don’t know what to do with me? I feel broken."

"They were all idiots. You're not broken. Not even a little bit. You're learning how to express your feelings. You just need someone who would take it slow." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, struggling not to tell you everything.

"I wonder if you’d take it slow." Your eyes go wide when that slips out. You hadn't meant to make things uncomfortable. One look at Bucky's face has you freaking out. He looks stunned. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out! Oh god, you've been there for me all night and I go and fuck it up by admitting I'm in love with you."

Your eyes grow even larger. You would move out of his lap, but his arms are still holding you in place. "Shit! Maybe I'm still drunk because apparently I have no filter." You say the last part more to yourself, but he can still hear you.

"Y/N?" Your name comes out of his mouth in a soft whisper.

"Yes?" You cringe internally at messing everything up.

"I would take it slow." He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours while he waits for you to absorb his words.

"Yeah?" You whisper back, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Yeah." You both lean in, exchanging soft, slow kisses and sleepy smiles.

--

The two of you ended up falling asleep leaning against the back of the couch. The sun streaming through the windows, combined with the noise of the other avengers in the kitchen, wakes you up.

You nudge Bucky, grinning when he pulls you closer.

"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast." He groans again, but eventually stands up.

The two of you walk into the nearly full kitchen, surprising everyone by coming from the lounge rather than the elevators. They share amused expressions, unaware of the emotional hurdles you jumped last night.

You head right for Sam, hugging him tightly before moving on to hug everyone else.

"I just wanted to thank you all. For encouraging me to live a little last night, but also for being there for me." Tears spring to your eyes again, shocking everyone but Bucky. "You're all like a family to me and I'm so glad I have you all to lean on." You made your way back to Bucky, leaning into his side while he poured both of you some cereal.

You smile when you look at him, kissing his cheek before sliding into the stool next to his.

As if broken out of a day dream, Sam sputters out a question. "What the hell did seven drink Y/N do last night?" Thrown off both by your behaviour with Bucky and the short emotional speech.

"Oh, seven drink Y/N is an emotional little bitch. I think I cried eight years of suppressed tears." You laughed, grinning at Bucky when he squeezed your hand. "Also, I think I need a therapist." Your casual admission has Tony spitting out his breakfast.

"What the hell happened last night after you disappeared from the party?" He guffaws, trying to put the pieces together.

"Also, why aren't you even a little bit hungover?" Nat chimed in, upset at missing out on seeing you anything but cheery.

"Well, to answer Nat first, I don't get hungover. Never have, even the one time I blackout out." You shrugged at everyone's slightly jealous expressions. "To answer Tony, I had an emotional breakthrough. Bucky helped me talk through it, something I never thought I'd be able to do. Long story short, i'm going to learn how to share my feelings instead of suppressing them all."

"Suppressing them? What are you talking about? I've literally never felt anything but happiness from you before?" Wanda questioned the new development.

"Well, that's because I'm really good at hiding how I feel. I'd rather not go through it all again, so just watch the security footage from the lounge last night, yeah? I want you all to know, even if it took seven drink Y/N to share it." You quickly finished eating, pulling Bucky to the doorway.

"While you do that, we're going out. Bye!" Before they could question anything else, you ran to the elevator, dragging a very willing Bucky behind you.

"We're going out?" He questioned when the elevator doors shut.

"Yep. Get dressed, I want to see all your favorite places in New York. Even if they're different now. Take me to all your favorite spots." You both smiled, sharing another soft kiss before parting to change for the day.

"Hey," Bucky called, causing you to turn over your shoulder, "I love you."

"I love you too."

[lordabovehelpme]

Tied to You - Bucky Barnes x Reader

For my lovely best friend. Happy birthday my dear, I hope you are having a wonderful morning and this puts a smile on your face. Trust me, it’s been hard to keep this a secret from you for so long, but I hope you enjoy. I love you, and I will see you later!!! 

Summary: You’re so happy to be standing before him, but something on his wrist brings you back to the very first time you met.

Warnings: f! reader, marriage

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excitement sends thrills up and down your spine, tingling through your toes and pooling in your stomach. You clutch the simple bouquet between your hands tighter and take a deep breath, trying to calm your frantic nerves.

Finally, after what seems like both an eternity and a millisecond, the classic “here comes the bride” starts to echo. Taking one more quick breath, you let your shoulders relax and start to turn the corner.

There you emerge from behind the doors of the little church in Brooklyn. Family and friends stand as you start your descent down the aisle. You meant to smile at the crying relatives, to give them some sort of comfort, but you can’t take your eyes off of him.

He stands before the altar, adorned in a black suit with a black tie. His hands stay clasped before him, but his striking blue eyes meet your own. They soften at the sight of you and his shoulders slightly shift towards you.

However, once you offer him a small smile, his eyes rack down your form and back up before meeting your gaze again. Usually his gaze causes you to fluster and try to hide away, but today you stand tall as you approach him.

He offers you a hand as you climb the few steps and you gladly take it. Handing the beautiful bouquet to your maid of honor, you look down at your clasped hands.

No longer does he shy away from you touching the metal, and no longer do you hesitate.

But something catches your eye as you settle before him. Right there on his metal wrist is a bracelet of thread. The one you made him all those years ago; bright yellows and blues, with tan and green. They all compliment the vibranium perfectly.

The sentiment is overwhelming and a gasp gets caught in your throat. “You wore it.” Your voice is small and he doesn’t need clarification to know what has puzzled you.

“Of course I did, doll.”

***

He can’t take his eyes off you. There you sit with some older ladies, spools of brightly colored thread by your side as you try and explain how to make a bracelet.

“Yeah, you’re starting to get it, this just crosses over here… see?” You lean over and point at one ladys horrible excuse of a friendship bracelet. They all laugh at one another and point out each other's mistakes, but become very defensive when their own flaws are pointed out.

“You should go talk to her!” An elbow is pressed into his side and Yori smirks.

“No I should not.” His eyes snap to face the older man, but not even a second passes before they beg to find your form again.

“Why not? She’s not getting any younger, and neither are you.”

Bucky sighs, but a small smile breaks onto his lips. “Haha, very funny. But I don’t even know what to say.”

Yori shrugs his shoulders. “Flatter her, girls love that. Tell her you love her eyes, her lips, her hair. Anything.”

A scoff falls from his lips as his head shakes. “I’m not going to suck up to her in hopes of a date.”

Yori places his hands over his own and he offers a smile to the soldier. His long white eyebrows twitch in the classic sign that the next few words will be uncharacteristically wise. The older man's eyes meet blue eyes and he gestures for him to lean in. Bucky follows and leans his head down.

“You will.”

Before the words even process in his head, Yori has already walked off, laughing loud as he clutches a hand to his chest. Once again, Bucky shakes his head at his antics.

“No I won’t.” He utters under his breath, before walking over to your little circle of mischievous old ladies.

You look up at him and he swears he might legitimately melt. “Hi!” You offer him a smile and he is already making funeral plans in his head.

“Oh, uh, hi.” Subconsciously, his flesh hand finds itself on the back of his neck, trying to rub away his nerves.

“Can I help you?”

He swears in his head, what does he need? He needs you. But he can’t say that. Swearing again, he tries to think of anything that would make sense to a normal human being.

“Yeah, I…” His eyes flicker around and land on one ladies bracelet. “I wanted to make a bracelet.”

Well great. Now he’s done it. He must look like the biggest dork in history. What was he thinking? Why couldn’t he just admire you from afar?

“Oh.” You genuinely look surprised. “Of course!” A wide smile breaks onto your face and you pat the empty seat next to you. “Come sit down and we’ll get you some thread.”

He can hear Yori’s laugh from the opposing corner. But, he follows your command and takes a seat next to you. Blue eyes follow your movements as you reach for a plastic container holding an entire rainbow of thread.

“So, what color are you thinking?”

He gives the rainbow one good look before sighing. “I don’t know.” You look at him as he offers a small awkward smile.

“Oh, okay. Well… do you know what type of bracelet you want?”

His fingers anxiously pick at the hem of his jacket. Shaking his head he murmurs, “Sorry, I know nothing about thread.”

Things seem to click in your mind that he has literally no idea about this stuff because you smile and slightly laugh. “Ahh, I see. That’s alright! Do you want me to choose some colors for you?”

His stomach flutters and he smiles at your soft laugh. “Yeah, doll, that would be nice.” The pet name slipped before he could even dream of stopping it. Once again, a long, loud, strand of curse words flood his mind.

Your movements stop, but quickly resume. In fact, you were so fast he’s not even sure you caught his slip. He watches with quizzical eyes as you pull brightly colored threads and measure them with your arms. Your fingertips move with ease as they tie the strands together and then hold it out to him. He reaches out and purposefully slides his fingers over your own.

“H-” your voice breaks out suddenly and he just smiles as you slightly fluster, clearing your throat you continue, “Here you go.”

He throws you a smirk and takes them from you. But then his plan of seduction hastingly halts when he realizes he has no idea what to do with the strands. So he just lets his hands rest in his lap as he stares down at the colorful strands.

“Do you need help?” You ask.

His head slowly tilts to meet your gaze and soft smile. He swears his heart stopped. Taking a gulp he prays you don't notice, he offers you a smile back. “Umm yeah.”

You scootch your chair next to his and reach over to grab the thread. Now he knows his heart stopped. You start explaining how to start a simple design but he can’t focus.

He means to focus, he wants to focus, but the smell of your shampoo wafts to his nose and makes his breaths longer. The subtle heat flowing from your skin to his where your arms slightly touch makes him want to close his eyes and lean in further to your touch.

“Are you paying attention?”

His eyes shoot open and heat rises to his cheeks. “Yes!”

One of your eyebrows twitch and amusement twinkles behind your eyes, but you continue where you stopped. He forces himself to listen and not be distracted any longer.

After about an hour of small talk and you helping him, finally the bracelet is long enough to tie off. Everytime your hand brushed his heart would skip a beat.

Now you tie the bracelet onto his wrist and cut the long ends. “There!” You smile at him and he nearly melts into a puddle beneath your feet.

“Thanks doll.” This time he doesn’t miss the way your body slightly stiffens and your eyes widen a tad.

“Umm, yeah.” You clasp your hands before you and open your mouth, but before you can say anything the older ladies call for you that they need your immediate help. You give him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I have to go, but it was nice to meet you…” trailing off when you realize you don’t know his name.

“Bucky.”

Nodding at him, your smile widens from remorseful to joy. “Bucky, it was nice to meet you.”

He watches as you walk away, laughing and giggling with the old ladies. “You too doll, you too.” Little did you know, but you walked off right with his heart. The once stone cold piece of meat, now fluttering and happily beating beneath your gaze and care. And for the last time that day another flood of curse words plagued his mind.

***

His hands squeeze your own and he takes a deep breath, blue eyes meeting your own. The bright bracelet proudly on display for anyone to see.

“Doll, there were many times I was lost and you found me. There were days which were heavy, and you picked me up and lightened my heart. Through it all, you were always there for me.”

His voice wavers a little and you can’t deny the water pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“And I know that will never change. I promise to love you as you are and to respect our differences while still supporting and encouraging you. Whatever the future holds, know that I will stand by you and love you. Through pain and passion, sorrow and hope. Through death and through life I will love you. Everyday and with whatever we face I promise to love you because I am tied to you.”

You have to drop one of his hands to wipe away your tears as you smile up at him. Then you say your own vows. And finally after the classic I do’s, the officiant says, “You may now kiss your bride.”

The two of you lock eyes before he swoops down and captures your lips within his own. One of his hands wraps around your waist and holds you steady. The crow erupts in shouts and glee for the two of you but neither of you care. He leans back and you both just smile at one another for a while, both holding the widest grins you have ever had in your entire life.

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you too.” You say back.

Later in the night, as the two of you sway, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and head on his chest, the final words in his vow finally make sense. You play with the string bracelet on his wrist.

“Tied to you huh? You were proud of that one, weren’t you?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was it obvious?”

“Dork.”

He smiles. “But I’m your dork.”

“Oh my god!” You sigh, “James Buchanan Barnes,” landing a poke to his chest to emphasize your point, “you are the most cheesiest, handsomest, loveable dork out there.” You stand on your tiptoes to catch a kiss from him. “And you're all mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes yes, I know. “Lordy what the heck? Why are you writing for Bucky?” Well this is a birthday gift for my friend who loves Bucky, so yeah. 

Disclaimer!!! I will not write for Bucky normally!!! This was purely a gift!!!

But please, if you liked it, consider reblogging or leaving a comment, I love hearing what you all have to say! (And maybe y’all can convince me to write for him more. Idk, I’m not promising anything.) 

Love, Lordy :) 

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If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- please fill out the form below or just give me a holler! :) 

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[acabecca]

Jas + Steve // Three Little Words - a companion piece to Start Of An Age

no one requested this i just saw some prompts i liked and basically gave them to myself 😌 thank u to @sgtbuckyybarnes for the lovely edits, and to @ohhitherekatie for helping me when i was stuck and ready to quit writing the whole thing! (lyrics in the edit are from accidentally on purpose by the shires)

*

Flicking through her mail, her keys dangling from the tip of her middle finger, Jas shouldered the front door of her apartment open and walked inside, her stomach dropping the second she kicked the door shut.

Another night alone, again.

She dumped her mail - bills and fliers, nothing interesting from no one she wanted to hear from - on the table in the hallway and dropped her keys into the key dish that Steve had bought for her.

“Here, you’re always losing your keys, so I got you something,” he handed her a small, neatly gift wrapped box and Jas squealed, snatching it out of his hands as he laughed. “Don’t get too excited! It’s nothing special!”

“I love presents! And if it’s off you, I’ll love it even more,” she cooed, leaning forwards and pinching his cheek as his face flushed and he swatted her away.

He was right; it wasn’t anything special - just a small, turquoise bowl, just the right size for her keyring.

But she was right, too; she loved it because it was a gift from him.

Jas sniffed, wiping underneath her eyes. Christ, she was about to start crying over a bowl.

“Get a grip, James,” she muttered to herself, slipping her jacket off and hanging it up on the hooks by the door - something else Steve had bought and installed himself, so she would have somewhere other than the kitchen worktop or the back of the couch to throw her jacket when she got home from work.

“You’re so untidy.”

“If you don’t love me at my worst then you don’t deserve me at my best, Rogers,” Jas told him from where she was lying draped across the couch, slurping on an ice pop as she scrolled through Netflix.

Steve laughed, dropped his screwdriver on to the table as he walked over and crouched in front of her.

“I love every single version of you,” he whispered, leaning forward and pushing her hand that was holding the ice pop out of her face so he could kiss her gently.

“Good save,” Jas raised an eyebrow, smirking once he’d pulled away. “Now get back to it, Stevie! I love seeing you being all masculine and fixing things around my place. Such a turn on.”

“I’m not a piece of meat; I have feelings,” Steve quipped over his shoulder, but he did as she said anyway.

She blinked furiously, keeping her tears at bay by sheer force of will. Everything in her apartment reminded her of him, he was everywhere she looked. She could even see the outline of him sat in the armchair by the window, his body cast in shadows from the street lights shining outside.

Shaking her head, she switched the lamp next to the TV on and froze - she could still see Steve sat in the armchair, his eyes fixed on her and his hair mussed up from where he’d obviously been running his fingers through it, his eyes dark and tired as he rose from his seat.

Jas blinked.

Once.

Twice.

She reached up to rub at her eyes, and then she heard him chuckle.

“You aren’t seeing things, honey,” he told her, his voice deeper than she remembered.

That was all it took before she was clambering over the coffee table and practically throwing herself into his arms, Steve catching her with a soft “oomf!”

“Are you really here?” Jas’ voice cracked.

“Yeah, I’m really here,” Steve whispered back to her, holding her against him as she buried her face in his chest, his arms wrapped around her as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted, her voice muffled by his shirt. “So much, Stevie. Thought I was gonna have to sell my damn apartment because I saw you everywhere I looked; my key bowl, the coat hooks, that stupid shower curtain-”

“Still don’t understand why you didn’t already have a shower curtain,” he scoffed. “The bathroom damn near flooded every morning.”

Jas pinched his stomach. “Shut up.”

Steve laughed quietly, taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers, Jas grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt to hold him as close to her as possible, as though she was afraid he would disappear if she let go of him.

“Love you,” he murmured against her lips.

“Love you too,” she murmured back, her arms around his shoulder as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “How long are you here for? Is it safe? Have you heard from Nat? What’s gonna happen with Sam and Wanda and Clint and the little insect guy? How’s Bucky doing-?”

“Okay, slow down, sweetheart,” Steve pulled back slightly, placing his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her with a small, uncertain smile. He sighed, his hands travelling down her arms until he took her hands in his and pulled her to sit on the couch with him. “Let’s just… Let’s sit for a while, and we can talk. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Jas followed him wordlessly, allowing him to guide her into the seat beside him, his hands still holding on to hers. She was tempted to pinch herself - she had imagined Steve showing up so many times in the last weeks that she couldn’t be certain she hadn’t gone mad and was merely hallucinating him being sat on her couch, his warm hands encasing hers and his eyes searching her face.

Tony would lose his mind if he knew that-

“Oh shit,” Jas’ eyes widened. “Steve. There might be people watching my building - Tony told me that if you called I had to keep the conversation short, in case anyone was trying to track you using my phone, he’s-”

“Tony’s giving you tips on how to see me?” Steve interrupted with a frown. “I’m not sure I buy that. Maybe he’s the one tracking your phone.”

“You underestimate how miserable I’ve been these past few weeks, and how utterly annoying I get when I’m bored because literally all of my friends are on the run,” she scoffed. “I think Tony is about ready to just willingly hand me over to you, in person, and help you escape if it means he never has to listen to me talk about another episode of Desperate Housewives for as long as he lives.”

“You can’t tell him I was here.”

“I’m not going to,” Jas shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone anything. Whatever happens here is between you and me; no one else. Tell me what’s going on, Steve.”

Pausing, Steve ran a hand through his hair and sighed, before nodding slowly. “T’Challa’s sister, Shuri. She’s going to help Bucky be… Bucky again. She’s going to get rid of everything Hydra put into his head.”

“That’s good, right?” Jas asked hopefully. “How is he?”

“Frozen.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Cryogenic sleep,” Steve began. “While Shuri works on getting everything out of his head. It’s the only way to be sure he doesn’t go full Winter Soldier again - it was his call, Jas. He had to make the choice for himself; no one forced it on him. I didn’t- I would never make him do anything like that.”

“No, hey,” Jas reached out, her hand on his cheek. “I know you wouldn’t, Steve. I know you only want what’s best for him and I’m sure he knows that, too.”

“I hope so,” Steve muttered, resisting the urge to nuzzle into her palm.

“What about the others? Nat and everyone?”

“Nat’s okay,” Steve nodded his head. “She’s… There’s a whole story. She’s been through it, Jas. I’ll let her tell you whenever you see her next.”

“Uh-huh…” she paused, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as her hand dropped back to her lap. “And the others? Sam, Clint, Wanda? What aren’t you telling me, Steve?”

He sighed heavily, pulling his gaze away from hers. He should have known she would pick up on his reluctance to mention the other’s who had helped him - Team Cap, Sam had christened them. Jas had a particular soft spot for Clint, and Steve knew she would have asked about him. He should have been better prepared, had a lie ready to fall past his lips, but instead all he could do was avoid looking her in her eyes and grip her hand a little bit tighter than before.

“…It’s best if you don’t know,” he admitted softly. “If you don’t know anything, you can’t get blamed for it.”

“Steve-”

“Please don’t ask me to tell you, Jas,” he shook his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I have to do what I can to keep you out of this, to protect you from the fallout of my actions”.

“Look at me,” Jas placed a hand on his cheek again, turning his head and forcing him to face her. “They’re my friends, too, so you need to tell me - what can I do to help?” she asked. “I’ll do whatever you need. I can’t sit around and wait, Steve. I’m no good at it. You should know that better than anyone.”

Steve chuckled. “I do know, but I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he told her, his chest tightening at the mere thought of Jas being hurt because of something he’d done.

No. He had to keep her safe, above all else. She was the one thing he had left worth fighting for, and he would protect her at all costs, even if that meant leaving her behind.

He swallowed at the thought, his breathing faltering slightly.

“Hey,” Jas tapped his thigh with her index finger gently to get his focus back on her. “I can see you getting lost in your head, Rogers. I know you’re worried, but nothing bad is going to happen to me or anyone else, Steve. I’ll always be here, you’ll always have me, whether you like it or not. Please let me help you help them.”

Steve reached for her, easily picking her up and sliding her into his lap. “Just tell me everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered hoarsely, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Jas whispered back, running her fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head. “Wanna know how I know that?”

“Because I’m Captain America.”

“No,” Jas snorted, tugging on the ends of Steve’s hair to force his head up. She placed a hand on his chest, just over his heart. “It’s because you’re Steve Rogers, and he’s the best person I’ve ever known. He’s the guy who will never stop fighting for what’s right. Never has done.”

“I- I love you.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” she hummed, kissing his forehead. “How long do we have?”

“Not long. Nat is coming back for me in a few hours.”

“Hmmm,” she pulled his head back to her shoulder and sighed. “And then? When will I see you again?”

Steve pulled back, looking up at her apologetically. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think we’re gonna have to keep moving for a while.”

“I could come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me,” Jas shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m offering. I can’t just not do anything and watch you walk away, Steve. I can’t watch you leave me.”

Steve’s arms tightened around her waist and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I would never leave you, Jas. I mean it when I say that I love you. I might not be around for a while but… I’ll always be here for you, too,” he repeated her earlier promise with a small, soft smile. “You’ll always have me, for as long as you want me.”

“Forever?”

Steve chuckled. “If that’s what you want, one day.”

“Sure is, Stevie,” she slipped her arms around his neck and shuffled as close to his chest as she could get. “How about you just stay the night with me for now, hmm? Call Nat and tell her to get you a little later. You can go before sunrise; no one will see you. You still have your trusty cap and sunglasses here.”

“My favourite disguise,” he smirked. “I’ll stay the night. I’ll do anything you ask me to, sweetheart.”

“Anything, huh?” Jas grinned back at him, the tips of fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “That’s a big promise, Rogers. Don’t make it if you can’t keep it.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, his hands snaking up underneath her t-shirt, his palms warm against her back. “There’s a lot we can do in one night.”

“Not enough if it means I wake up and you’re not here.”

“I’ll wake you before I leave,” he murmured against her lips, pressing his mouth to her. “Promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Better hadn’t, or I will use every form of technology at my disposal to hunt your ass down; I have so many vacation days saved up, it will be easy to follow you across the world just to yell at you.”

He laughed again. “I don’t doubt it for a second, sweetheart,” he cooed, Jas shifting on his lap to get more comfortable as Steve gripped her waist tightly. “There, uh… There is something you could do for me. You said you wanted to help.”

Jas nodded once. “Anything, Steve.”

“Use some of those vacation days to go to Wakanda.”

Jas blinked. “What?”

“I need you to look after Bucky,” Steve explained. “He doesn’t… He has no one else, and I can’t be there for him. I want him to get to know you, for you to get to know each other. He’s my best friend and I want him to know how amazing my girlfriend is. Want him to meet you, officially.”

“When he isn’t trying to kill me, you mean?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

“Hey, I’m kidding,” Jas pinched the skin of his neck gently. “I told you I’d do anything I could to help and I meant it, so sure. I’ll go keep Bucky company in Wakanda. He can tell me embarrassing stories about you and we can bond! It will be fun. I’ll become Bucky’s best friend. Hope you’re prepared for all the selfies I’ll send you of the pair of us.”

“You,” Steve nuzzled his nose into her neck. “Are incredible. How’d I manage to have someone like you in my life, huh?”

Jas beamed down at him. “Guess you’re just lucky, Rogers.”

taglist: @sgtbuckyybarnes @mer-writes @jewelswrites-ish @foxesandmagic @hiddenqveendom @lukespatterson @starcrossedjedis @if-you-onlyknew

Jas taglist: @ohhitherekatie @suethor @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

let me know if you want to me added/removed!

[wolfs-hunt1]

Wolf Kisses 3

Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader

Word count: 1897

Warnings: none on this chapter, sorry for any typo.

A/N: ok ... I think I already know where I want this fic to go. I have currently 3 more chapters planned, but since I got stuck writing this (it covers only half of what I had planed for this specific chapter) I might take longer with the others. I’m just publishing this one like this because I feel like I’ve been stuck long enough and I might need a new perspective. I hope you all like it!

Tag lis is OPEN

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

Part 2

You were in the communal kitchen, having breakfast with Bucky and Steve when Tony walks in and stops when he looks at you. he whistles slowly and looks between the two men.

"You go Capsicle, finally getting on with the times I see." he winks at them and slaps Bucky on the shoulder when he passes him on the kitchen, going in for the coffee pot to make himself a cup. This makes Steve choke on his coffee and a scowl to appear on Bucky's face.

"What is that supposed to mean, tin man?" Bucky grumbles, turning on his seat to look at Tony. Tony merely looks at the three of you and makes an obscene sign with his fingers, making a collective groan to leave you all.

"First of, eww, we're still eating!" you say "And second of, I'm still recovering from an injured leg, I don't think those activities are advisable." you sass back, looking at Tony's shocked face when you tell him you're the injured wolf the two super soldiers brought home.

"What? But…"

"Wolf got your tongue?" you are now openly laughing at his reaction, with Steve and Bucky snickering beside you. "By the way, I have some really strong words for you if you think I'll let you do any testing in me without me bitting back." you are glaring at him by the end of your sentence, making sure he knows you don't want any probes anywhere near you whatsoever.

"Will a bite from you make me turn?"

"I'm not a werewolf, I'm a shapeshifter."

"Sure thing Lupin, whatever you say." he picks his cup and leaves the kitchen, trowing that comment over his shoulder.

Tony didn't talked more to you that morning. But in the afternoon you did got a manila folder under Steve's door with information about your species, that Tony had collected from one of Shield's servers, along with a written note that a room would be prepared for you that same afternoon so you wouldn't have to sleep on Steve's couch. Yeah… like you had been doing that anyway. But maybe a room would be nice. You would be able to give them their space and you could have yours.

You have dinner alone with them in their apartment that night, and after, you are shown to your new room. There were some clothes set out for you, that seamed about your size, so you wouldn't need to keep wearing Steve's and Bucky's oversized shirts, although to be honest, they were quite comfortable.

You take your precious time in the bath that day, making sure you are thoroughly clean and relaxed before sleeping on some clothes and flopping belly up on the bed, just staring at the ceiling. The soft shadows caused by the lights from the buildings outside made the room appear cold, dark, and empty. Made you feel alone. When did you stop feeling like you were alone in the first place? You had barely noticed it… but now that it was missing, you craved it once more.

You didn't want cold and dark and alone.

You wanted toasty warm, and cuddly. You wanted the comfort both men provided without really asking it of them. You wanted the security they gave and how they made you feel like you didn't have to be alone ever again.

You get up and walk to the door before stopping abruptly. No. You couldn't. You had intruded on their lives enough already. And now you had your own room, and not even one excuse to go and see them. You were alone once more and you had to live with it. So you crawled back to bed and pulled the comforter atop your head, hiding underneath them to keep warm.

Your night was restless, you got little sleep, and had sore muscles from the lack of rest. Your eyes were still a bit puffy from the time you burst out crying with no idea what you were even crying about. Overall, you looked like a freshly crawled out of a grave zombie. That was plainly clear when Tony and Sam spent the entirety of breakfast teasing you.

"So… where's Steve and Bucky?" you ask, not having seen them yet that morning.

"Last I saw them was when we went on our morning run." answered Sam, between bites of his toast.

"FRIDAY, were are Capsicle and Barnes?" Tony quips from his seat, eyes never leaving his tabled and occasionally sipping his coffee.

You looked at him weirdly until a disembodied voice ranged all around you. "Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes are currently on the training floor."

"What was that?" you ask a bit startled with the voice that came from thing air.

"That was the AI that powers this building. You can ask her anything if you ever need help around here. She'll also let you know what floors you have access to and what floors are off-limits." that could come in handy.

"Cool… do I have access to the training floor?" Tony merely hummed, and so you went back to finish your breakfast. Sam comes with you to the training room when you both finish breakfast, him going to the locker room first to change to something lighter than the sweater he was wearing.

You go ahead and open the door, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and grunting could be heard right away, the overpowering smell of the leather of the machines hitting your nose with the slight tang of sweat. You can see both men in a sparing mat, trowing and dodging punches right and left, with barely time to take a breath.

You don't want to distract them, so you lean against the wall, just watching them. Roling muscles expanding and coiling with each new movement an entrancing sight. Sam shows up a few minutes later, wearing a black t-shirt with the Avengers logo on it… subtle. He walks up to you and smiles.

"Do you spar?"

"Oh… not really. I only fight when others get too close for comfort. And even then I have sharp teeth and claws to help me out. Like this, " you point with a hand at your body, "I'm basically useless." he chuckles at you and nods at one of the punching bags.

"Care to help?" you nod, following him and grabbing the bag so it wouldn't move too much whenever he punched it. You could feel the strength of his punches traveling through the bag, and you could also tell he was holding back, maybe so he wouldn't make you fall down. "So… wolf girl. What's it like to live as a wolf?"

"It's thrilling. The rush I get when turning, when running or hunting, it's amazing. The power flowing through my veins, making me faster and stronger, making me be able to see better in the dark, and to ear and smell more enhanced than when I'm human? It's addictive really." you can see the fascinating in his eyes with every word you say, his focus on punching the bag slipping away so he could better hear your story. " But all extremely draining, the more time I spend as a wolf the weeker I progressively became, and if I get injured, my body can't even turn back."

"So like, you can only be a certain amount of hours turned?" he asks, resuming his punchings when he notices he had fully stopped his training to look at you.

"No, with experience, and by pushing my limits I get to extend that time. The most I've staying turned was about three weeks, it was during a blizzard, and honestly, being human in that situation would have killed me." a loud bang reverberates in the room, making the both of you look over to the two super soldiers. Steve was pinned to the ground, whit Bucky's metal arm in his throat pushing him to stay down while he straddled the blond's hips, also pinning his legs so he couldn't move.

"Ready to give up, Stevie?" Bucky taunted, leaning furder down to whisper something on his ear, making him shift his head softly to look in yours and Sam's direction before looking back at Bucky.

"I can do this all day." Steve manages to topple Bucky over and get the upper hand, pinning him now to the floor mats. Gripping Buckys arms to the side of his head, sitting on his thighs.

"Get a room you two." Sam throws at them, making you laugh at the light blushes on their faces when Steve helps Bucky up.

"No need to get jealous birdbrain, we can share you between us." Bucky quips back, just to rile up Sam. Your friendly bickering is stoped when Natasha walks in, with a serious face.

"Fury is calling all of us for a meeting. Now." she leaves the training room without waiting for an answer.

"(Y/N), why don't you go up to your room and order something for lunch from FRIDAY, we'll probably take a long while at the meeting." Sam leads you to the door, while the three of them go to the locker room to change before the meeting.

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

Being cooped up in this fancy room wasn't your idea of fun. In fact, you've been living so long on the wild that being in this place as long as you have is starting to make you climb the walls. Almost literally.

Maybe you should have taken Sam's offer to throw some punches and let out some pent up anxiety. Maybe a walk outside would help you calm your nerves. You walk to the elevator and after some awkwardly pacing around, you speak up.

"FRIDAY, can you take me to the ground floor please?" you can feel the moment the elevator starts to move, and a short few minutes later the doors open up to a massive lobby. "Thank you." you step out and walk along the vast space, boots making some squeaky noises every few steps. The doorman tipped his hat at you and opened the door, bidding you farewell.

The air outside was warm, but the cool wind that was blowing felt refreshing on your skin. You pick a direction and start walking, not caring much about where you're going. The streets were busy, but no one really paied any attention to you, making you blend in naturally with the city.

You are so distracted by your own thoughts that the next thing you know you are walking at a park, the lush green canopies of the trees making the air cooler and more refreshing. You walk to a bench and sit there, looking at the small playground infront of it, watching the children playing.

You longed to be able to run as a wolf once more, but it wouldn't be smart to do it here, the bystanders would only call for the authorities and you would be shot on sight. So running freely would have to wait. You wondered how the meeting was going, what they were talking about, and if it involved you. You where living there rent-free after all, and with a questionable background to warrant you lots of questions about it, none of the superheroes were doing.

Taking a deep breath once again you decide to return to the tower, you had been away for far too long without having told anyone.

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

Part 4

Tags:  @hidden-treasures21 @jelly-fishy-babie @thedarkplume @fallenoutofrose @animegirlgeeky @salveangeli @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @artemis629 @buckysknifecollection @glimmering-darling-dolly @ rebekahdawkins @amiets2  @tite-rose @ animegirlgeeky

[ineloqueent]

where the wildflowers grow

Gwilym Lee x Fem!Reader

synopsis: they say there lives a witch in the wildflower woods, but Gwilym has never believed the tales. until now.

warnings: use of medieval swords (no blood)

word count: 2.1k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

It’d been dark when he’d set out that morning, and though it was always dark on his mornings in the woods, this day had begun darker than usual.

He’d dressed by the flame of a single candle and sheathed his sword at his side, fastening the buckles of his boots with practiced hands, for this was routine.

Gwilym liked routine. He even liked his shifts in the Wildflower Woods, and while the other members of the royal guard drew straws to determine which unlucky bastard would be patrolling the woods that day, Gwilym always volunteered.

The woods were quiet, and an outlander might have thought that this silence was what the men feared, the dull buzz that began in one’s ears once exposed to soundlessness for an extended period of time, alone with the sound of one’s breath and the wealth of one’s thoughts, but the outlander would have been sorely mistaken.

The men did not fear silence; they feared what lived in the silence.

It was said that a witch lived in the Wildflower Woods, capable of a dark and terrible magic, magic which the king had long since outlawed, criminalised. There had been innumerable huntings and burnings when the legislation had passed, and to this day, every citizen of the kingdom could hear the cries of the men and women killed for crimes they had most likely not committed.

No exceptions had been made, and everyone deemed a witch had faced a terrible fate upon the courtyard pyre of the Castle Gaerwen.

No exceptions had been made, but one particular individual had slipped from the grasp of the king’s guard.

They called her Morgana, after the enchantress of Arthurian legend, and she was feared as equally as the woman of the legend. It was said her gaze was deadly, and that she could take any form she desired, turn water to liquid poison, revive both the dying and the already dead, and change the weather at will. No one had any power over her, for even the elements bowed to her magic, and so she had been deemed too much of a risk for the royal guard to capture.

And so, the royal guard now patrolled the Wildflower Woods morning and night, to ensure that the witch did not move to attack the good citizens of Daryn.

Gwilym had patrolled the woods for years now, and had neither seen nor heard any sign of a witch. Thus, as all logic demanded of him, he did not believe the tales. The other men called him foolish, shuddered at his naïveté, but Gwilym laughed merrily at their fears whenever he was given the chance. He did not believe the tales, and so he did not fear the woods. The woods were a solace, and in living the life that he did, with chases and fighting and travelling, it was nice to have some time to himself, in a place where the world was quiet.

His boots crunching on the gravel of the path which led out from the guards’ quarters and toward the outer wall of Castle Gaerwen, Gwilym nodded morning greetings to those arriving home from the night shift.

Women stood lined up to draw water from the wells in the courtyard, and a group of them giggled as Gwilym passed. He sighed inwardly. He did not encourage their attentions, and yet, they continued to behave in this manner whenever he was about.

Ignoring the chatter that followed him, Gwilym arrived at the outer gate.

“Morning,” he said to Mercher, his friendly acquaintance and the man whom Gwilym was to share the day’s shift with.

Mercher mumbled his own greeting, and Gwilym smiled.

“Nervous? It’s just the woods, you know.”

The other man grunted. “There’s more to those woods than you think, ffwl.”

“There is no witch in those woods, fy ffrind,” Gwilym countered good-humouredly.

“Perhaps you are right,” Mercher responded, as he tapped his fingers along the hilt of his sheathed sword, “but there are other things too.”

Gwilym raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mmh. Venomous serpents larger than fully grown horses, boars with tusks longer than your forearm, spiders which will crawl into your eyes if you close them unawares.”

Gwilym’s eyes twinkled; he was amused. “Well then, Mercher,” he clapped his companion on the back and strode forward through the opening gate, “we should get going so that these creatures can have their breakfast.”

Mercher swallowed thickly, standing rooted to the spot. With a shake of his head, he hurried to catch up to Gwilym, who was still smiling to himself.

“By rights, we shouldn’t be allowed to risk our lives like this,” said Mercher.

Gwilym laughed. “You should have been a baker instead of a soldier! Courage, fy ffrind. It will get you far in life.”

⭒

As they were only two, Gwilym and Mercher were forced to split up in their duties. Gwilym appreciated the solace, but Mercher was fearful. The former repeated his advice of courage to the latter, and the two parted ways.

A deep mist hovered betwixt the trees this morn, and so it was difficult to see very far beyond one’s own hand, but it also afforded the woods a mysterious quality, one which only fuelled Gwilym’s lust for adventure; outwardly, he was grown, but at heart, he was still a child, and longed to live the stories of pirates and highwaymen that his mother had told him when he was little.

Gwilym was still searching for his purpose in existence, and though he had yet to find it, he was sure it involved adventure, something more than this little life he presently lived.

Almost as though the world around him were aware of his longing, a rustling arose from the surrounding shrubbery.

Gwilym’s hand flew to the sword at his side, his knees bent, prepared to run.

There was silence. Not even a bird cawed in the canopy overhead, no river water rushed, no wind was heard between the trees.

Something slithered in the undergrowth.

Slithered. It was very distinct.

Hyperbolic images of terrible, scaled bodies with large mouths bearing fearsome, pointy teeth dripping venom conjured themselves in Gwilym’s mind, and his heart kicked up its rhythm.

His eyes flitted about the bushes, the endless wildflowers which carpeted the forest floor and provided the wood with its name, but he could see nothing. It was still rather dark out, and the mist did his eyes no aid.

Then, suddenly, a great, scaly body launched itself from the undergrowth, and before Gwilym could react, tore its fangs down his calf.

He gave a cry of pain, and lashed out with his sword, but the venom must have been rapidly acting, because his vision had already turned blurry.

But with, quite literally, a stroke of luck, he struck the creature, and with a violent hiss, it retreated rapidly back from whence it had come.

Gwilym was left to his solace once more, but now he was panting, and nearly doubled over in trying to lean his weight against a tree.

He shouted for Mercher, once, twice, but no response came.

He was on his own.

Feeling as though he were going blind, Gwilym staggered forward at a pace that was rather quick, fuelled by desperation. Pain lanced through his leg and up toward his heart, and he knew that one must not allow venom to circulate once in the veins, but what else was he to do? Lay himself down to die?

No, for that would be a coward’s death, and Gwilym Lee was no coward.

A light flickered in the mist, between the trees.

Perhaps he was hallucinating. It was not unlikely.

But he held onto hope, and dragged his heavy feet forward until the light grew bigger, brighter.

The light came from a window, in a cottage built of heavy stones. Gwilym imagined the craftsmanship to be excellent, but he did not know for sure. His vision was beginning to grow dark around the edges.

At last, he happened upon the door. With a heavy arm, he knocked against the wood, and collapsed, just as the door swung open.

⭒

He could smell woodsmoke, and heather and all kinds of herbs.

His eyes were heavy, as though he had not slept for days, and a dull pain throbbed in his leg. But it was nothing of the agonising pain he had felt before.

There was a sound like the clinking of metal pots and pans, and someone was humming.

With tremendous effort, Gwilym rose to his elbows, and opened his eyes.

The light was low, but there were candles aplenty, and they flickered softly, in their places about the room— in teacups and saucers, upon plates and wooden carvings, standing proudly in window sills and atop shelves.

On the shelves, there were potted plants and what appeared to be bottled herbs, labeled with names both familiar and unfamiliar to Gwilym’s vocabulary.

His eyes wandered about his peculiar surroundings, before returning to where he lay— in some sort of bed that was really more of a cot, made of linen and crowded with sheepswool blankets and a stitched duvet.

Bless the kindness of strangers, he thought, until his gaze happened upon his host.

She locked eyes with him before he could turn away, and his breath caught, because the woman before him was enchantingly beautiful, and without a doubt the witch of the tales he had not believed.

A slow smile curved over her lips. “My stare is lethal, no?” she said, a thick Welsh accent carving her English words differently from the way Gwilym spoke his.

His first instinct was to laugh, and he almost did, before he thought better of it. There was no telling what this witch was capable of, and presently, he was utterly at her mercy.

But a question had occurred to him as well, and so he asked it.

“However did you guess that my English is better than my Welsh?”

That slow smile touched her pretty lips again. “Like you say, it was a guess.”

“Damn good guess,” Gwilym said, not bothering to hide the fact that he was impressed.

She laughed, a warm sound, and he felt oddly comforted by it. “Us gwrachod do have a talent for those sorts of things.”

“So it is true, then?” he spoke carefully. “You are the witch of the Wildflower Woods.”

“I am. Morgana, if you will.”

He fixed her with an inquisitive look. “Yes, but that is not your name, is it?”

She had been standing by a stove, but now, she wiped her hands on the apron that hung over her full skirt, and walked toward him. She perched in a rocking chair positioned by the cot and leaned back into it, folding her arms.

“No one has ever asked my name before.”

Her voice was quiet, low, and surely as enchanting, as lethal, as her stare. But he detected a loneliness beneath the words.

“Well,” Gwilym said, “I am asking you now, politely, if you will give it to me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “There is much in a name, Gwilym.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, sitting up properly. “You know my name?”

She nodded. “A pretty name, no? But a bit long. I like Gwil better. Do people call you that?”

His heart felt strangely light at his name on her lips, even when it was shortened. “They do now,” he said, and thought that her eyes glittered. “And your name?”

She murmured it, and it sounded to him like the songs of old, a lilting melody with an alluring darkness humming beneath the surface.

He rolled the sound over his tongue, and felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks as he said it. Indeed, there was much in a name. An intimacy, too. Gwil did not often use the given names of his acquaintances.

“You healed my leg,” he remarked thoughtfully, shifting it from beneath the blankets.

“And purged y gwenwyn from your veins,” she added.

Her eyes were deep, and he felt himself sinking into her gaze as he met it.

He murmured, “You saved my life.”

“Ie,” she said. “That I did. A witch is not so bad, you see.”

Her smile was teasing, and he knew then that he had nothing to fear from the witch of the Wildflower Woods.

“And for that,” Gwil began, his eyes searching the room for his sword. It was resting just beside him, on the floor by the cot, and he drew it now, standing it upon its point on the stone floor and bowing his head briefly. “I am forever in your debt.”

She smiled, and Gwil feared that more than his honour was indebted to her.

His heart, for certain, was too.

[third-rail-vip]

Complicated

Summary:

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said. MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket. His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

--

Ivy and MacCready's trip to take on the Gunners is stopped in its tracks by a poor judged detour. Mac gets hurt, but he's never been very good at being cared for.

Rating:  Mature

Word Count: 5625  [AO3 link]   [Then I Met You - Series Link]

Mud-clouded, irradiated marsh water burned into his nose, filled his throat, and tried to force its way into his lungs.  

And as if drowning wasn’t bad enough, a close second in the ranking of bad-to-worse was the gouging pain of claw-like nails burying themselves deep into his back, forcing him under water as they tried to tear chunks out of him.  

A dull thought overtook him as the last of the breath left his lungs; he was going to die here.

--x--

The chill of cold water was replaced by a brief but biting gust of wind as a door clicked shut.  MacCready stirred, floorboards shifted as he flexed his back and shoulders, which turned out to be the worst idea he could have possibly had - pain radiated from his left shoulder like fracturing glass.

He hissed through his teeth, taking a sharp breath in and sending a fresh wave across his body, briefly reigniting the burning sensation in his lungs.  Waking up from a nightmare was supposed to be a relief, not just another chapter of discomfort.  

MacCready kept his eyes scrunched closed.  There was light beyond the barrier of his eyelids, low but warm.  If it hadn’t been for the dull headache starting to tap away between his eyes like water torture, it might even have been welcoming.  

“Shhh, shh, shh,” a voice murmured close by.  “You’re okay.”

First things first, when you woke up somewhere strange, it was always best to keep your eyes shut.  There was a lot you could learn when people didn’t know you were awake.  Things that could keep you alive if you weren’t somewhere safe.  

He took a breath in through his nose; the cold December breeze cut through the old damp scent of the room, it carried with it the smell of vegetables (tatos probably) and manure – he grimaced, trying to hide the expression of regret at his deep inhale.  So, it was a farm.  He listened carefully, the lows of brahmin and the quiet chatter of voices confirmed enough for him – the only danger he faced here was boredom.  

As his apprehension dwindled further, he realised it was Ivy’s voice offering the soft reassurances – of course it was – and he could only assume it was her who’d just gently brushed his hair back from his sweat-damp forehead.  The tender motion would be enough to lull him back to sleep if he let it, but he wasn’t ready to be drowning in his mind again, or to watch Lucy pulled to pieces, or to be yelling for his missing partner.  No, it was time to wake up.  

His vision was blurry when he eventually peeked his eyes open, the dull glow of an oil lantern was the only thing beating back the shadows of early evening.  It’s illumination barely reached the wooden slatted ceiling he found himself staring up at.  

He was laid on a mouldy old sleeping bag in a small room with broken windows, but that didn’t exactly narrow down locations when it came to the Commonwealth.  Glancing out the window, the faint remnants of orange warming the darkness on the horizon told him the sun hadn’t long set.  

Sat next to him, lantern light shafting through her hair and casting her face in shadow, was his partner.  He smiled to himself at the halo effect doing its best to make her look like an angel – if angels sat there drinking Nuka-Cherry with a cute little crinkle on their nose from their patented ‘worry frown’.  

Quick check for his other essentials; his sniper rifle was propped up in the corner by the lamp, which sat on the same small table as his hat.  He reached up and patted his top pocket and felt the reassuring bulk of the toy soldier.  Everything was where it should be.  

“So, did I die or is this just my guardian angel coming to pay me a visit?” he croaked, with a throat drier than wasteland dirt.  

“Hey you.”  Ivy swiped the heel of her palm across her eye, before pushing a smile onto her lips and turning to look at him.  “You had me worried there.”

Crap.  He really did.  That light tone didn’t hold any weight with him, he could hear the waver in her voice, see the tension in her smile.  She’d hired him to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen, but all it took was ferals and he was failing people all over again.  

Now the light shone on her properly, the scratches on her face (earned in a fight he was nowhere near to help her with) put his heart into a vice-like grip.  

They didn’t look as bad as before, there wasn’t blood all over her face anymore, for one thing.  In fact, her hair was damp but back to it’s usual creamy white – no more essence of marsh water – and her rolled down vault suit showed she’d swapped into a clean tank top.  

Come to think of it, when they’d arrived at Oberland Station it had only just been getting dark.  Yes, he remembered where they were now - a cluster of shacks and a signal box huddled by the railroad tracks and surrounded by tato plants.  He also remembered the welcoming committee, armed with pipe pistols and a whole heap of mistrust.  

The pair of them had been caught off guard on the tracks, Ivy still in his arms – the vice tightened another twist.  They were soaked, bleeding and, unless the settlers expected him to hurl his injured partner at them, they were unarmed.

He’d been about to give them the biggest f-ing piece of his mind, when the world that had started to spin around him, decided to turn out the lights.  

“How long—”

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”  Ivy hugged her knees to her chest and nodded to the IV he hadn’t even noticed in his arm.  “You’re on your second bag.”

A bag of Radaway was hung up using the bedstead as a makeshift drip-stand.  It had almost run through.  On the ground nearby was another spent bag and an empty blood pack.  

Shit.  Well that would explain the headache, the dizziness and the nausea, not the mention the fever.  There were only two things in the wasteland that’d do that to you;  a whole heck of a lot of rads, or a couple of sips of Vadim’s moonshine.  

“They let us stay, huh?”  He hoped his smile could pass for something warmer than a grimace.  “I wouldn’t have guessed from that reception.”

Ivy sighed and raised an eyebrow at his salty remark.

“Well, you passing out and dropping me like a sack of potatoes… tatos?  Is there an equivalent?”  She frowned for a second, adjusting the grip on her knees and shifting her weight to the other hip.  “Anyway, I think it helped our case.”

Mac smiled.  He liked her tangents, when her old world and his new one got jumbled up in her head and knocked her train of thought off the tracks.  Her mental meanders had tested his patience back when they first met, but now he found it soothing to watch her puzzle things out.

Ivy leant forward and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.  Her fingers were cool – a welcome relief he hadn’t realised he needed until they soothed some of the heat in his skin.    

“Your temperature’s coming back down, at least.”  The last of the Radaway had run its course, so she slipped the drip from his arm.  “How are you feeling?”

MacCready sat up – big mistake.  The room spun violently around him, dragging a sickening groan from his lips.  If Ivy hadn’t been there to grab his arms and steady him, he’d have slumped back down onto the sleeping bag.  

Fat lot of good he was doing anyone in this state!  Those goddamn ferals.  He wanted to scream.  Or shoot something.  Or have a cigarette.  Where were his damn cigarettes?  

But he needed to keep his shit together.

“I feel like a herd of brahmin stomped on my head,” he griped, hoping he could at least manage to make her laugh.  “What do you think, doc?  Am I going to make it?”

She wasn’t even looking at him - wide-eyed, she was staring at his shoulder.  Ever so slowly, she reached out and peeled the sleeping bag away from where blood had soaked it to his shoulder.  He couldn’t hold in the pained cry when she did it.  

--x--

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said.  MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket.  His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

He lined up another shot, taking two down with one bullet – a very nicely placed double headshot.  Ordinarily he’d be singing his own praises, but this whole mess had the potential to go bad real fast.  One tackle from a feral and he’d lost the upper ground, got separated from his partner and cut off from any hope of an easy retreat.  

Once-upon-a-time, taking out ferals had been child’s play.  Literally.  He’d been at it since he was 10.  He’d perfected the art of anticipating their shambling, diving movements.  Could line up a shot with barely a glance, the same way he took down raiders and greenskins these days – it came as naturally to him as a heartbeat.  

It was no boast when he claimed to be the ‘best shot in the Commonwealth’.  If you asked MacCready, he was a modern-day Robin-fucking-Hood – except the beggared of the commonwealth could keep their mitts off his caps.

That had all changed four years ago, at least with the ferals it had.  Now he had to focus – there was no winging this shit.  He had to tell his hands to stop shaking, to count his breaths so he even remembered to take them.  Every time those things showed up he had to ride the line between fear and rage - which might have been useful if he was wielding a baseball bat, but it was no damn good for a sniper.  

His finger was slick on the trigger, and as much as he wished he could just blame it on the water, his palms were sweating.  He bungled his second shot, it only winged the racing creature.  

This was goddamn nightmare fuel.

The third shot came from the walkway above him.

“I could have got it,” he snapped, more harshly than he meant to, but this shit had got him on edge.  

“I know.”  Ivy didn’t even bicker back at him.  

She was scared.  And alone.

But he’d thank anything that’d listen that she had a good eye - he admired the clean shot between the eyes of the feral before it sank beneath the water - and that her aim was getting better every day.  The trouble would come if she got overwhelmed and he couldn’t get to her.

Hell of a lot of good he was doing down here.  

The pair had taken on ferals before, but not in this number and he’d not left her side the whole time.  This was different.  There were so many - more rising up out of the water or scuttling across the rooftops at every turn.  They were closer to the Glowing Sea here, but this was ridiculous.  It was like someone had set up a feral summer camp and the damn things had waited for them to get right into the centre of town before attacking.

With barely a thought, he took down another feral as it rounded the corner ahead.  It was easier if he just went on instinct, less time for thoughts of consequences - and the memories of old ones - to creep in.  

MacCready patted his top pocket.  Good, it was still there.  

“I hate getting wet,” he moaned.

“I know.”  Came the reply (after a few more gunshots), this time from a few roofs down, further back into the heart of the sunken village.

MacCready made to move forward in an attempt to keep pace with her, his feet dragging through deep silt.  He’d barely made it a few yards before something heavy fell with a loud splash right behind him.  He definitely didn’t have time to turn around before it was on him – teeth, nails, sheer weight dragging him down under the water.  

--x--

“I’m so sorry.”  Ivy’s voice was so small, her eyes were swimming when she looked at him.  “I really fucked up.”

MacCready frowned, confused.  It wasn’t her fault he’d bled all over the damn sleeping bag.  The settlers would just have to get over it.

“I took us to that awful place and you got hurt,” her voice was growing more and more frantic until it finally cracked and tears spilled down her face.  “When they dragged you under—”

Oh, Ives.  Did she really think this was all her fault?

He leaned forward and caught the back of her neck, gently tugging her forwards until their foreheads touched.  A startled gasp mingled with a sob when he did, her red-rimmed brown eyes looking straight into his brilliant blue gaze.  

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” he murmured.  “Yeah, sh—stuff went wrong, but we made a heck of a team out there.”  

“Mac, I thought I got you killed…”

This close together, with their gazes locked, even in that dark little room, he could see the scratch the knife had made down her eye.  She must have come damn close to losing it.  What kind of animal could do that to a sweetheart like her.  He felt his temper bubbling up, but given it was 200 years too damn late, it was about as redundant as he’d been today.  

“I’m a Capital Wasteland radroach,” he smiled, bumping the tip of his nose against hers.  “It’ll take more than a few ferals to kill me.”

The words tasted like bile in the back of his throat, knowing they might well be true, but the same didn’t extend to the people he loved.  But then, they weren’t for his benefit, and the intended recipient had almost laughed, which was definitely something.

“I am sorry tho—”

“Ah, ah.  You saved my ass, angel.  I’d be feral food if it wasn’t for you.”  

It was true.  It had been terrifyingly close.  

Ivy bumped her nose against his before pulling away, shifting back into her spot against the wall, leaving him with an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach.  Her tears had dried up, and she wiped away the remaining trickles from her cheeks with the heel of her palm.  

MacCready dug in his pants’ pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one out only to watch it flop and snap.  He hated water.  

His partner giggled when he looked across at her, a pathetic sight with his packet of ruined cigarettes.  Then she laughed, really laughed.  The tension from moments before finding its way out in nervous energy.

Ivy laughing - really laughing - was a joy.  

First, she’d fight to hold it in, but you’d see it building in her eyes.  Then the corners of her mouth would twitch, her lips desperately wanting to break open into a grin, so she’d catch it behind a hand - both if it was especially bad - like, if he couldn’t see the smile, he hadn’t won the game of making her laugh.  Tears like diamonds flecked with mascara would form in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

He'd happily sit there with half a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip if he got to watch that sight.

Once her giggles had faded, she filled a cup with purified water for him.  It’d be more soothing for his throat than a cigarette anyway, just not for his nerves.  Regardless, he downed the water in one and held his cup back out for a refill, big blue eyes pleading the same way dogmeat did anytime they were cooking something tasty.  Ivy obliged.

“How about I take a look at that shoulder now?”

Whether he’d like her to or not, she was already digging in her pack for antiseptic and filling a small basin with more purified water.    

--x--

Removing MacCready’s coat and shirt turned out to be more of a challenge than they’d anticipated.  The fabric of both were either caught in the wound or dried to his skin, and the attempted removal of them left him chewing on the back of his hand.

The pair of them sat hip-to-hip, the small of Ivy’s back resting against his knee as she focussed on her work.  Outside he could Diamond City Radio playing quietly from somewhere in the settlement.  It showed how hard his partner was concentrating that she wasn’t even humming along.  He let the strains of Billie Holliday wash over him and tried to think about anything other than the pain in his shoulder.

“Mac?”

Ivy cast a quick glance MacCready’s way between strokes of the damp cloth she was using to stop the dried blood clinging to the fabric.  

“Hmm?” He tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose.  23.

“What does RJ stand for?”  She treated him to the little hopeful smile she usually reserved for shopkeepers and potential employers.  

“Where did that come from?”

“I just wondered.”  And you thought it’d distract me from thinking about my shoulder trying to pull itself apart.  “I can’t believe I’ve never gotten around to asking before.”

“Oh, you have.”  

He grinned at the confusion dawning into a half-memory on her face.  He’d been just sober enough to remember the second agreement they made on Halloween night, when they first met in Goodneighbor – one shot per question.  

It’s no wonder she couldn’t remember though.  Most of his memories, other than a few of her more outlandish questions, revolved around those big, bright, buzzed eyes.  

They’d been sprawled on opposite sofas in The Third Rail, half a bottle of whiskey – which she obviously couldn’t handle – down and she’d just asked him (as one of the 20 questions he’d limited her to) what the meaning of life was.  He’d told her to shut up and drink.  Then she’d tried for his name with so much mischief in those eyes and a smirk on her lips that he’d never quite been able to take his eyes off since.

“And I’ll tell you now, what I told you then.  No way.  I’m not telling you.  You’ll only use it to tell me off.”

He hissed indignantly at the cold hand she purposefully rested on his chest when she paused to give him an appraising look.  

“That’s fair,” she eventually conceded - most likely when her hand had reached the temperature a human body should be - setting back to work, only to pause again a second later.

“Of course...” she smirked at the new idea that had presented itself to her, leaning across conspiratorially to whisper in his ear. “You might have to make a choice between that, and me making up names for you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied without hesitation.

“That’s your prerogative, Rodney.”

He glared at her.

--x--

It took a couple more minutes to work the material free of the wound – and a couple more minutes of enduring every name beginning with ‘R’ that Ivy could think of – but now the damage was plain to see.  

Or at least he could guess it was from the sudden lack of teasing and the expression of horror on Ivy’s face. The colour that he’d tried so hard to get back into those cheeks had drained again, and the guilt he could see in her eyes, when she flicked them to his face then back to his shoulder, was like a mirror to his own.  

If the deep red stains that had soaked into his once white tank and across his shoulder were anything to go by, those ferals had made a goddamn mess of him.  

“I—this might take a little while.  I’m going to need to clear out the…debris…and clean the scratches before I can even think about getting a Stimpak in there.”  She chewed on her bottom lip.  “These deeper ones… RJ, they’re going to hurt.”

“I’m a big boy, angel.  I can take it.”  

Debris.  He knew exactly what that meant.  And damn right it was going to hurt.  This wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig broken off feral nails and teeth from his flesh.  At least this time he wasn’t trying to comfort a bawling infant as he did it.  

When she dragged the lamp closer, MacCready knew exactly what else she’d see.  The back of his shoulder and upper arm were littered with old scars.  How long would it take her to spot the similarities between the old marks and the ones she was cleaning?  He wondered whether she’d guess that’s what wrecked his duster in the first place.

He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pain, trying to ignore the glint of lamplight on the already red-tinted basin of water next to him.  Picking a patch of peeling paint on the skirting board, he stared at it, trying to make himself focus on what colour it might have been two centuries ago.  Would it have been something fun?  Midnight blue, maybe?  Not likely.

A shiver ran up his spine as Ivy smoothed a hand over his shoulder-blade, her thumb tracing the lines of the old wounds with a touch as delicate as a kiss.  She didn’t ask.  She didn’t need to.  One glance between them and she could recognise scars with a history.  If anyone understood the vulnerability that came with them, it was her.  

MacCready had never been much of one for looking after himself when he was hurt.  He was more of a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy.  Stick a stimpak in it and hope for the best.

Oh, but Ivy, she was as gentle as she could be with him, soft hands working to soothe, stopping with every groan and halted curse – if she could – whispering apologies and reassurances that she wouldn’t take much longer.  

The water beside him grew deeper red with every time she had to wash the blood from her fingertips.  He thought he’d bite clean through his lip when she dug out the last of the debris, it was buried deep and he could hear from trying to keep from retching as she pulled it from deep in the muscle.  

The smell of the antiseptic burned his nostrils.  He was such a mess, he barely even felt the sting of the carefully applied stimpak getting to work on knitting his muscle back together.  Woozily he pressed his fingers to his bleeding lip, rocking forward to put his head between his raised knees until the room stopped spinning.    

“Hey, that was the last one,” Ivy gently rubbed her hand up his spine and across his uninjured shoulder, quietly reassuring him.  “Just got to get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new.”

“And what about you?” he asked as she began to bandage his shoulder, glancing pointedly at her swollen ankle which was covered in an ever-increasing nebula of purple and black bruises.

“It’s just a sprain, Mac” she shrugged.  “It’ll go down in time.  Let me worry about you.”

--x--

He heard the gunshots, that wasn’t what frightened him.  It was the scream that came after.  The last he’d seen of Ivy she’d been standing up on a pitched roof – stupidly out in the open, but if she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind to get that vantage point, he’d be a dead man.    

Now she was gone.  

There were feral corpses bobbing in the water all around him, even more hanging off the roofs and walkways.  He hadn’t realised how many were on him until he pulled himself back up, fighting for air.  

In seconds his vicious memories were replaced by a new fear.  

Bleeding and dizzy, he began wading through the deserted streets.  He couldn’t see any more movement, not around him and not on the rooftops.  And he couldn’t see her.  The village was as silent as when they arrived.  

“Hey partner, you okay?” he hazarded a shout.  

No answer, just the echo of his voice bouncing back off deserted buildings.  

MacCready started to move faster towards where he’d last seen her, forcing his body through the deep water, causing eddies and ripples to trail out behind him.  He tried to keep calm but his breaths were getting shaky.  

“Hey angel, you good?”  he shouted louder this time.  

Nothing.  

“Ivy?”  

It was more of a croak than a shout.  There was no way anyone could hear it.  He could barely hear it.  But that didn’t stop the nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, or his pulse starting to pound in his ears.  

No, no, no, no, no… not this time.

“Ives!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.  Over and over again, he shouted, his voice mixing with the echoes as he dragged himself up the rusted fire escape onto the rooftop.

“Mac?”  He almost missed it.  Her voice was stifled by coughing, but it was her.  

Scrambling up onto the pitched roof he’d last seen her on, he spotted a hole edged with rotten beams and snapped tiles.  Peering over the edge into the gloom of a dusty attic space, he could see Ivy.  She lay crumpled half on/half under a pile of broken beams with blood smeared across her face.  Her ankle was caught at a weird angle.  The body of a feral lay impaled where it landed just feet away.  

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so relieved to see a person in his life.  The way she was smiling at him, she looked pretty damn glad to see him too.  

“Did we win?”

Shaky laughter spilled from his lips, “Something like that, angel.”

“You called me Ives.”

She gave him the soft look of a woman who’d probably hit her head on the way down.

--x--

But Mac was the one doing the worrying.  

It had been a long time since he’d been that worried about losing a partner.  What rattled him the most was that when she’d disappeared out of his sight, his panic had nothing to do with suddenly being alone in a feral-infested swamp.  He didn’t even spare a thought for the Gunner base less than a half a mile away.  He’d been too wrapped up in the fear of losing her.

Ivy was giving him that soft look again now, even without the concussion.  Would it be so much to hope that she actually gave a damn about him?  He’d made mistakes in the past, given his trust to people who didn’t deserve, and he’d been burned.  

But maybe she was different, just like he’d told her when he convinced her to help him with this dumbass plan.  

“You really don’t have to do all this for me, angel, but thank you.”  

Without thinking he reached out, brushed that one stubborn curl back behind her ear and cupped her cheek.  It took his thumb brushing her scar for him to realise that he was the biggest dumbass in the commonwealth.  Of all the things he could have done…

He was on the verge of panicking and pulling his hand away, when she pressed her hand over the top of and smiled at him.  He couldn’t have imagined such a different reaction to when she’d been falling apart in front of him in Malden.  

“You should let somebody else take care of you every once in a while.”  

If he thought she’d been looking at him softly before, well this look coaxed all the air from his lungs, and if he remembered to breathe at any point in the future, he’d struggle.  

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.  Usually MacCready was the one who knew how to tease blushes and smiles out of her.  To catch her eye and leave her speechless.  How did one simple gesture have his stomach in knots?  

Holy crap, he did not see this coming.

There was a creak on the wooden stairs outside their room and he wasn’t sure he’d ever resented a noise so much in his life.  Their little bubble had been burst and now he could hear the chatter of settlers outside again, and the damn brahmin still hadn’t shut up – even though he’d been deaf to them just moments before.  He could hear one of those damn crows squawking away in the woods nearby.  Dinner was cooking, and people were laughing, and didn’t they have anything better to do than interrupt them.

Ivy gave his hand a quick squeeze and took it away from her face just as the door creaked open and one of the settlers arrived with a basin of scalding hot water - now he thought about it, after the day they just had, he probably smelled like antiseptic and stagnant marsh water.  Nice.

“I’ll leave you to get washed up.”  There was a flush to Ivy’s cheeks that couldn’t just be put down to warm lighting.  He just smiled at her like an idiot.  

“You need a hand down the stairs?”  their host enquired, giving them both the kind of look that gossip was built on.  

MacCready glared at the woman.  Ivy might be quick to forgive, but he remembered that pipe pistol, and if he started getting shit from caravan guards, he’d know exactly where it had come from.    

“No, thank you, Lynn.  I can manage.”   The woman bustled back out into the night air, but MacCready could hear her taking her time going down the stairs.  Nosy...

Before he could help her, Ivy had dragged herself to her feet, using the doorframe to keep as much weight off her ankle as possible.

“I’ll be outside.”

“What, no bed bath?”  MacCready forced a laugh.  This was the crap they usually joked about, right?  He was sure it wouldn’t have sounded so awkward that morning.  

Ivy shook her head in exasperation, or at least that was probably what she was going for, but the grin and the blush undermined the impression.  

“I was an artist, sweetheart, not a nurse,” she teased.  “So, unless you’re planning on posing for a life drawing, I’m going to go and help with supper.”

A sudden panic hit him as the room emptied.  What if something happened?  What if something happened while she was out there and he couldn’t get to her in time.

The door had barely clicked shut before he called after her, “Angel?”

“Yeah?” she poked her head back in, curious smile in place.   The wave of relief he felt after just a second, well, it was ridiculous.

“Stay close.  Yeah?”

--x--

The previous night had ended up much like that morning had begun - with bickering and a meal.  A big bowl of vegetable stew and a quarrel about how to get back to Diamond City, to be more precise.  Not that they’d gone to sleep on bad terms, if intertwined fingers and shy smiles in the darkness were anything to go by.

MacCready watched the weather suspiciously, the morning was dull and windy, and knowing his luck, they’d probably end up hiking in the rain.  He stood on the tracks with Ivy, all packed up and ready to go, but they were still undecided on the route they should take.  Her ankle was no better than the day before, despite her hobbling on it and trying to convince him that she’d be able to make it the long way on foot.

“I’m telling you, if we go via Cambridge it’s actual roads and I’ll be able to walk.  I might just need a little support,” she challenged him.  Again.

“And I’m telling you, you’re in no fit state to try and get past raiders and muties if they’ve infested that apartment block again,” he snapped back, frustrated.  “If we take the shorter route we can be back in under two hours.”

“And if there are yao guai, Mac?  What then?  I’m definitely going to get eaten, is what.”  She folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of defiance – if it wasn’t for her standing on one leg like a lawn flamingo.  “Where’s the salt?  Because you might as well season me now.”

“Stop being so damn dramatic.”  He rolled his eyes at her indignant look.  “I’d get us there in less time if you’d just let me carry you.”

“And what about your shoulder?”

He chose to ignore that one.  The shoulder in question still ached like a son-of-a…gun.

“I’ll tell you what RJ stands for.”  Looking at her like he’d just upped the ante on a bet she could never refuse.  “But only if we can go the shorter way.”

…got her.

“Really?”

He shook his head and stalked over, picking her up in one fluid movement and–hopefully–managed to hide the sharp pain in his shoulder.  She quickly wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself and swallowed hard – he couldn’t miss it – composing herself after being caught off guard.  

“Robert.  Joseph.”

She smiled, glancing away at nothing in particular, like she was trying out the feel of his name in her mind.  Then she smiled at him, and it was his turn to steady himself.  There was none of the teasing he’d anticipated, just that gentle warmth that always caught him off guard.  

“Ok, you win.  We can go your way.”

Oh, this was going to get complicated.

[writings-of-a-narwhal]

I am what you call shameless, my dear. Thus I am obligated to request: "I'm not lying", with Mitsue and Neoma becAUSE I'M WEAK OKAY

here we goooooooooo

Neoma sits, frowning at the ruined bandages on her hands, at the pain that burns in her veins like fire, at the failure she suffered that day in battle; it wasn’t a horrible loss, but they had lost land. Reinforcements would be coming in soon, she hoped, but until then...she had to make sure no more land was lost, she had to protect the land and the people within.

Shaking her head, she turns to the map on the short table before her. Tracing paths with aching fingers, she tries to figure out what her enemies will do next; she needs to prepare for their next move and how to trick them somehow while they wait for allies to come and help them.

As she stares at the map with only the flickering light of a candle, a dull roar of a headache forms in her temples, adding to the fire of the pains that are spread all over her body. She can’t stop, not yet. There’s to be a small council with the army commanders before dawn and then they ride off to fight again. No moment of rest for her or anyone else here, really. Even the wounded are being sent back out at once. Of course, having the healing magic that can almost completely heal any wound is helpful in having forces available to send out again quickly. Still, the Himura Clan still has stronger soldiers...

“My love, don’t you think you should rest?”

For a moment, Neoma panics, heart jumping in her throat, though she isn’t sure why. She doesn’t even look up at her guest.

“You know better than most that I don’t have time to rest, Mitsue.”

“Mmm.”

There’s gentle noises that follow the hum; the sound of the shoji door sliding closed, the clinking of ceramics on a tray, soft footsteps on the tatami floor. (The only reason they were in a room rather than a campsite was because they retreated to a nearby village, one mostly hidden in the forest.) A gentle hand touches her back and she subconsciously leans into it.

“Neoma,” they murmur in a tone so quit that only she will hear, for anyone else hearing that name would mean death, “you can’t lead others if you yourself collapse.”

“Ah, I won’t and you know it. My magic will keep me upright; it always does.”

“Relying on magic in that way will only lead to your demise more quickly than you are already running toward it. Do you really want that?”

Sighing, Neoma rubs her hands over her eyes, clutching at her left eye as it erupts with something akin to an old wound being reopened, but there’s no wound to reopen. Still, her trembling fingers dig into the skin around the eye, wondering if she should just tear it out and get rid of one portion of the pain that rages the battlefield that is her body.

“What does it matter?” She spits at her spouse, not wanting to get in this conversation, not wanting to argue like this. “As long as the war ends, does it matter?”

“To me it does.”

Neoma looks up, though only her right eye sees anything. Their face is earnest, honest, no trace of lying, yet she still doubts. Mitsue reaches out with elegant fingers and brushes her left hand away from her face and cups that cheek.

“Let me tend your wounds; it is the least I can do. Please.”

Saying nothing, she just nods at her spouse, allowing them to slip the kimono and under robes off her shoulders, revealing skin as smooth as a mountain range and soiled bandages wrapped around her torso. The bandages hide many things, things that Neoma wishes to stay hidden, but she allows Mitsue to unbind them and look at what’s underneath. It’s taken nearly six months for them to get to this point, but she trusts them enough now to reveal this part of herself, a part of herself that literally no one else is allowed to see.

Neoma listens but hear no hissing of sympathy nor noises of disgust. Though Mitsue only ever frowns and hums softly as she works, Neoma always searches for something else, something hidden in their tone or face, expecting them to think her nothing but a disgusting monster, nothing but a tool of war. Yet...thus far, they never have. Still, she doubts.

“Here,” Mitsue presents a ceramic cup to her, a smile made of silk on their face. “Before I get started with the healing, have this. It helps you ignore the pain, right?”

Taking the cup, Neoma presses it to her lips. Sweet sake slips down her throat with a gentle burn; same as the burn of her wounds, but this is one that she craves. 

“Thank you.”

Mitsue smiles and sets the flask of sake in front of her before returning to the tray they brought and grabbing the medicines from it. As Neoma drinks, Mitsue begins to tend to her wounds.

It’s a peaceful scene. The only noises are the gentle humming from Mitsue’s throat, clinking as Neoma fills her cup and drinks, faint hissing as the medicines are applied to open wounds new and old. Neoma has to admit; it’s much nicer to do this than tend to her own wounds. Still, something nags at the edge of her mind, pulls her attention away from the relaxing atmosphere and not-so-relaxing battleplans that are staring her down.

“Mitsue...”

“Hm?”

“Tell me, why do you treat me so kindly? You have since before we were wed. Our marriage was a political one. There’s no need to act as kind as you have. I know I wouldn’t; not if I was forced to marry a stranger, leave my family and everything I knew, change my entire way of life...”

Neoma frowns. She’s done those exact same things, not by choice, but she’s done them...and she’s been anything but kind in that time. She left who she was in that village in the mountains to die along with her village. 

“Ah,” Mitsue starts, sitting back and getting to where they can look Neoma in the face. “Is it cheating if I say I just want to be kind?” They laugh, softly. “I simply...care for you. Whether we were wed or not, I would, I feel. When I look in your eyes I see something precious there, something bright despite all the darkness you’ve had to wade through, that you continue to wade through. I see you give all of yourself for others and expect nothing in return. That makes me want to give you something kind and soft you can rely on.”

Tilting their head, they narrow their eyes slightly, peering into Neoma’s very soul. “And before you ask; I’m not lying. I’d never lie to you.”

Neoma rests her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand. “I never said I thought you were lying.”

“No, but you didn’t have to. You’ve learned to always second-guess what others tell you. After all, many times you are only given half-truths or complete fabrications. It’s only logical for you to question what is said to you. I want you to know that you don’t have to question what I tell you.”

Watching Mitsue, their eyes that sparkle with nothing but honesty and truth, their hands that have given Neoma nothing but gentle touches after consent was asked, their ethereal appearance that makes her feel like she’s walking in a dream in the best way possible. Their very presence makes her feel better than anything has in the nearly five years she’s been here, since she’s been Masaru Umebayashi.

“Thank you,” she whispers, hand curled tightly around the sake flask, to the point where she’s afraid it’ll break from the grip. Squeezing her eyes shut, she repeats herself. “Thank you, Mitsue.”

“Always, my love. Always,” they say softly, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. Neoma wants nothing more than to fall into their lap and curl up, to have their arms around her as she drifts to sleep. With them, she won’t have bad dreams. With them, she can be comfortable and herself and doesn’t have to worry about being a warlord or Lord Umebayashi, just...herself. Neoma Takeda. The girl from the mountains who was raised by a kitsune, who loves riding her horse at breakneck speeds and crying out in joy as she does so, who wanders in strange forests as if she’s lived in them her entire life.

Only with Mitsue.

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

“It’s a deserted planet. The soil isn’t good for growing food, and the atmosphere is dry enough that even moisture farmers haven’t tried making a living there” Ahsoka explained as she handed Rex the holomap “But some people say that powerful force users would go there to consult with those who had passed and seek their advice.”

Rex eyed the small silver disc with a crease in his eyebrow. Could it be the one thing to finally give him the closure he so desperately needed?

“Have you ever been there?”

“No” Ahsoka shook her head “The jedi aren’t allowed there. Seeking the dead is a form of attachment, and therefore is forbidden.”

“But you’re not a jedi anymore. You don’t have to abide to these rules. After you left the order, you never wondered-”

“I don’t want to speak to them, Rex.” Ahsoka cut him off, folding her arms and rubbing them in discomfort “I fear it would bring me more pain than solace... and you should take this in consideration as well.” she cast her eyes down “I mean... there’s nothing we can do to bring them back. And the connection, even in that place it doesn’t last long - if it happens - according to what I researched. It’s not like you can visit their spirits every weekend to sit down and chat. It’s a one-time thing, and likely a very painful one.”

Rex averted his eyes when Ahsoka looked back up at him, and she insisted:

“Besides, the very few times a connection happened, it was between very powerful force users. Like- Like Master Yoda. I have no idea if it’ll work with someone who isn’t force-sensitive, Rex.”

Rex swallowed down to then run a hand over his face.

“Look. You told me once that the force is in every living being, regardless of whether they’re sensitive or not.”

“Y-Yes, but-”

“That’s gonna have to be enough for me.” Rex turned on his heels walking towards the hangar, squeezing the holomap tight in his hand

“Hey!” Ahsoka called, and he stopped for a moment without turning to face her “Good luck. I hope you find what you’re seeking.”

Rex nodded, looking ahead at the rebel ship he had picked earlier for himself.

“Thanks.”

-

The trip had been long, and Rex dozed off a couple of times as the autopilot took him through hyperspace, farther and farther from the inner rim, closing in to the outer rim, where he and General Skywalker had faced so many battles in the days of the republic.

He would give anything to have those days back. The tally marks on his helmet and gauntlets almost took over all of the white plastoid, the countless brothers lost in battle mingled with the ones lost to order 66 - he counted them as dead, as they might as well be, having been turned into nothing but meat droids of the Empire.

The whole thing was horrifying. The way Wolffe had to find out via word of mouth that his own troopers had shot their General, sending him plummeting to his death. How Appo was made leader of the 501st and brainwashed into slaughtering every jedi under his aim at the Coruscant temple. The way Palpatine personally sent Fox to hunt down and kill Fives after he uncovered the truth about the brain chips.

Yes, Rex, Gregor and Wolffe survived, and it was all thanks to Fives, but they still lived in a nightmare where almost the entire galaxy was under the Empire’s flag, and their brothers that still survived were being enslaved and stripped of their free will.

Things had been too much to Rex lately, and when things became too much, he could always open up to one of his best ARC troopers: Fives. But now that wasn’t an option anymore. Fives had died in his arms, scared and crying like a cadet, his parting words being about how much he just wanted to be a good soldier and do his duty even as the circular blast still glowed on his chestplate.

He needs Fives. Needs to talk to him one last time, needs to let him know that his theory was right, and that it saved him from death or slavery.

-

He spends five days in the planet, walking around and seeking... not even he knows what. Will he know how to connect with Fives? Is this whole thing even real? Maybe Ahsoka was right, maybe he would have to be a Jedi to to it.

Still, he keeps walking, the filters in his helmet more or less compensating the stale, dry air. Rex believes the days are longer in this planet; either that or the boredom is making every day feel like two, and when nightfall comes it feels like a bliss.

He sets camp once again, a small tent and what someone could call a sleeping bag if they had very low standards. Rex sits down next to it, removing his helmet and closing his eyes for a moment. It’s difficult to breathe in the atmosphere, but clones had been engineered to withstand harsh environments, so he can probably stand it better than the average human.

He draws a deep breath, thinking about Fives. His sly little grin, the tattoo of a number 5 on his temple, the inflections in his voice.

“Fives...” he breathes out “Brother, please... I need to talk to you. Please.”

He takes another breath, his lungs straining some. He wonders where do troopers march away to when they die. According to mandalorian traditions, a vod is never gone. But where- where is Fives and the others? How can he connect to him?

The next breath he takes makes him dizzy. Rex snaps his eyes open, reaches for his helmet - he needs the filters - he ends up bumping his hand on it, sending it tumbling away. He gets on his knees, reaches for it again as his breath hisses in his throat... his sight grows blurry, going darker by the second. When he brushes his fingers on the plastoid of his helmet, his sight goes dark for good, and he drops down on his chest, slipping into unconsciousness.

He feels a pair of hands on his shoulders, helping him up to his haunches.

“C’mon now, sir, you’re embarrassing yourself like this.”

This voice...

“If Commander Cody saw you falling on your face like that,” one of the hands is tapping his cheek lightly “you’d never hear the end of it, heh.”

This laugh...

Every trooper has the same voice, or so it would seem to any outsider, but they all had their mannerisms. Inflections, accents, laughter. A good commanding officer could tell his soldiers apart with his eyes closed. And even before Rex opens his eyes to see the face before him, he already knows it’s...

“Fives?”

Fives smiled at him, looking exactly the same except for a small blue haze that surrounded him.

“Hey, sir. Glad to see you again.”

The words had barely left the trooper before Rex pulls him into a tight hug. He feels Fives’ arms embracing him back, and Rex realizes he didn’t expect the whole thing to work. He was literally chasing a ghost, and he was aware of it, but now that Fives is here, Rex feels lost. He should say something, anything...

“Fives, I... I missed you so much, I... I just...”

Fives gives him a couple of taps on his back.

“I know, Rex. I missed you too, brother.”

Rex pulls back, holding Fives’s shoulders still as he stares into the ARC trooper’s face.

“You were right.” Rex swallows down “The chips, Palpatine’s betrayal, everything. You were right. And you saved me.”

Fives’ face lights up with a smile, his eyes welling up.

“Then I... I did it. My duty... I did it.”

Rex nods over and over, squeezing Fives’ shoulders.

“You did... And there’s so much more, Echo, he’s alive, we rescued him, he’s on the run now, but still... Oh, and Wolffe. He’s still the same moody bastard, of course. There’s a resistance fighting against Palpatine, and- and Ahsoka, the lil’ commander? She’s a grown woman, fighting along with them, can you believe it?”

Fives is still smiling, but there’s something different about him. His blue presence seems to be losing strenght, parts of him slowly becoming transluscent. The hand Rex has on his shoulder drops, passing right through Fives.

“Fives...?”

“I have to go, Rex.”

Rex’s eyes go wide. No. No, he can’t lose Fives again.

“No…” he tries to hold onto Fives again, but it’s like he’s a hologram – there’s no matter to him, only a projection of blue lights “No, please! I can’t… Please, just a little longer…”

A glowing, perfectly circular hole blooms over Fives’ chestplate just like the blast that took his life, and the ARC trooper looks at Rex with a bittersweet smile.

“Regardless of whether we are leaving or being left behind, we always want a little longer.” And he sighs, his presence fading more and more “It’s okay, Rex. It really is.”

“Fives, please, don’t…!”

Fives vanishes before Rex’s eyes, and the captain buries his face in his hands. No. He needs more time. But something in his mind tells him that this was the last time he would see Fives.

-

Rex wakes up startled, events of the previous night slowly piecing themselves back in his brain. His hands shoot up for his face and he noticed the helmet is back on his head, breathing stable through his filters. He looks down to realize that he somehow entered his sleeping bag, despite having no memory of it happening.

What had really happened that previous night? Was it all a dream? Would he ever know?

Rex thinks it over as he gathers his things and walks back into the ship, sinking in the pilot’s sit and setting the coordinates to the rebel base, and as he enters hyperdrive and the stars set long trails against the dark backdrop of the sky he comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter.

To him, it had been real. And that’s all he needs.

[blacklilyqueen]

Picture Frame (Wanda x Reader)

Summary: You find Wanda crying in the headquarters. While trying to comfort her, you both start realizing your feelings for each other.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader (non gender specific)

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 1703

Exhausted, you entered Avenger's headquarters. At the last cosy meeting with some of them you mentioned that sometimes you wish you were a little more well-trained. As a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent and unofficial member of the Avengers, you weren't exactly unathletic, but if you compare yourself almost every day to the achievements of Assassins, Super Soldiers, genetically modified heroes, and literal gods, your own skills suddenly start to look very limited. Steve had kindly offered you his help and suggested that you train with him today. At first, you were so excited that the thought, that it might not be the best idea to compete with someone who was literally a super soldier, didn’t even cross your mind.

The bag with your training clothes slips out of your hand as you finally drop onto the sofa. Steve had really tried to be fair and considerate of you, but in the end he couldn't help laughing when you were completely running after him at the end of your strength while he wasn't showing the slightest hint of effort. Now you just lie there and slowly try to breathe normally again. Legs outstretched and eyes closed you just want to rest when you suddenly hear a loud clang. Shocked, you jump up and set off to find the source of the noise.

Normally, you wouldn't be so worried and would have just assumed it was one of the other Avengers. However, you know that the others should all be out at the moment, which is why you are now on high alert. Carefully you lurk around every corner, your hands tightly wrapped around your weapon. The sound came from the upper floor so far that you are sure and are now standing at the landing. Before you go up, you look around in all directions to make sure no one is waiting for you.

You can also feel every cell of your body tense when you reach the top. You are trying to collect your thoughts and think about how best to proceed tactically when you hear a soft sob. In addition to your emotional chaos of fear, caution, and willingness to fight, there is also confusion. Why should a potential attacker sob? Was this a trap? An attempt to get you out of your cover? With a strong kick you push open the door, which fortunately isn’t locked and point your pistol at the spot where the sobbing seems to come from. Your grip around the pistol narrows and your finger is already on the trigger, ready to shoot when you realize who is the cause of the whole thing.

Wanda sits on the floor in front of you and looks at you in horror through her puffy eyes. Immediately you lower your arm and put the weapon back. You had expected a lot, but not this. You've never seen Wanda like this before. Huddled together, trembling all over and with red, swollen eyes. Next to her you can see some broken glass, but she has no injuries of her own. The whole thing just doesn't make any sense, Wanda shouldn't even be here yet. From what you understood she had met a friend a few days ago and was staying with them until later in the evening.

"What are you doing?" worriedly you look at Wanda. You two have only known each other for a few months and yet you started to like her very quickly. It wasn't even the case that you two spent a lot of time together, let alone a lot of time just the two of you. Yet there was something you couldn't describe when you saw each other. You had had these kinds of feelings that you felt only when you were with Wanda. Again and again you had persuaded yourself that it was completely irrational, because you hardly know her. But isn't that exactly what feelings are about? Feelings are irrational. Feelings help us to let go of everything our mind tells us, so that we can finally find out what we really want. So is it really something bad to be irrational? Because your feelings about Wanda were irrational and just felt right, but maybe only you feel that way.  

"Are you really asking me that? The question is what are you doing? You kicked in the door and came in with your gun drawn, what's the point?" Her voice tells you that she's insecure. She speaks loudly and clearly and yet it is as if you could perceive a tremor in her voice. She is scared and there is obviously something she doesn't want to talk about. Still, you think it would be best to simply answer her question.

"I heard a noise, and because I thought everyone else was on the move, I panicked. And now you. Why are you here? I thought you were out with that girl from last week. And why are you sitting here crying on the floor?"

Wanda strokes a strand that has fallen into her face to the side and breathes in and out deeply until she finally answers you: "It's nothing. Everything is alright.

As she says, she wipes tears from her face with shaky hands, stands up and takes a few wobbly steps towards the door. But before she leaves the room, you reach out your hand to her. It lies lightly on her arm. Wanda could easily move on and ignore your touch, but she doesn't. Instead, she turns around to look you in the eye. Without really noticing what you are doing, you take a step towards her. The next moment, Wanda's head lies sobbing on your shoulder while your arms are tightly wrapped around her.

It takes quite a while - you can't possibly say how long exactly - until she stops crying. When she lifts her head from your shoulder and looks you in the eye, it's like you can read all her pain on her face. Carefully you try to get her to sit on one of the chairs in the room.

"I'll get you a quick glass of water, I'll be right back, okay?" In response, you only get a faint nod.

As you leave the room, you take a quick look at the glass splinters and realize that it must have been a picture frame. Only when you come back from the kitchen with a glass of water do you discover the picture that fell out. It seems to be a family photo. You can see a man, a woman and two children, boy and girl, each about 9 years old.

You hand Wanda the glass and sit down on a chair next to her. Only when she has finished drinking do you begin to speak: "The picture, is this you with your family?

For a moment Wanda is completely silent, only to suddenly whisper a quiet, "Yes".

"How did you get that?" As far as you know, everything that belonged to the Maximoffs was destroyed when their home was bombed, and you didn't know where else Wanda could have gotten this photo. Again she says nothing and you're not sure if it was a good idea to ask that question, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Maybe you should just rest and..."

"Ana."

"Excuse me?" You're not sure you understood her correctly. What should "Ana" mean?

"Ana, the woman I met with, do you remember?" You nod briefly, even if you don't quite understand what that has to do with this photo, "I didn't meet her just a few days ago, but about ten years ago. She joined the company where my father worked at that time. Apparently he had this picture on his desk. Ana kept his things when his desk was emptied to tried to bring them to Pietro and me, but couldn't find us anywhere. And then a few weeks ago she apparently saw me on the news and started looking for me. When we met today she gave me the box with all his things. At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to open it at all and when I did, I discovered the photo and just couldn't take it anymore."

You can see her eyes filling with tears again as her voice shakes and she has to gasp for air as if she can't breathe. Again you gently put your hand on her arm, "Everything’s okay. Everything is fine. Take a deep breath."

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Wanda begins telling you about her family and starts crying again and again. Sometime in the course of time you’re leaving Wanda's room and wander into the living room. During the afternoon it happens more and more that Wanda is crying on your shoulder. And so you both lay on the sofa, Wanda’s head leaned against your chest, your one arm around her body, while you pet her head with your other hand. As you lie there, you can feel Wanda turning her head to look at you, and her gaze hits yours, only to turn away again.

"Maybe I should go now. I've been bothering you all day with my whining, I don't want to annoy you anymore."

"Bother?" You are completely perplexed. How does she get the idea that this would bother you? "Wanda you don't bother me or annoy me! You are really important to me and I don't want you to feel bad. You had to go through a lot and I would never wish anyone to have to go through all that. I understand how hurt you are and I just wish you were well. Wanda, I don't think you have any idea how much you mean to me."

Without really knowing what exactly you are doing, you stretch out your hand to gently stroke Wanda's cheek with your thumb. Your other fingers are under her chin and slowly lift it to bring it closer to your face. Only centimetres separate you and you can already feel her breath on your lips. Your gazes meet again and you look deep into her eyes before she closes them and your lips finally meet.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Basterd Son (Donny Donowitz x Reader: Postwar AU)

Anon Request: Hiiii :) can you please do a imagine where Donny comes home from the war, and sees the reader for the first time since he left, and hasn't been able to call or write to each other because of his cover. But when he sees her again, he finds out they have a kid and he's just so happy 😭💗 thank youuu

@inglourious-imagines​ @war-obsessed​ @owba-chan​

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

The war had been over for over a month.

Between debriefings, interviews, and meetings, the basterds hadn't been able to see their families yet.

The basterds had just gotten their medals of honor.

This was finally it...

This was goodbye...

It was bittersweet. There'd be reunions, phone calls, and letters without a doubt. And most of the boys lived along the east coast. Hugo was looking to move to a quiet town in Connecticut. It wouldn't be too hard to keep in touch.

After all they'd been through, nothing could get in their way.

But, aside from their goodbyes, there were hellos.

They hadn't seen their families in years. There were no letters, no calls. That was too dangerous considering the magnitude of their missions over the years.

The boys looked beyond the crowd of reporters and politicians, and saw their families.

Donny saw his mother smiling in pride, her hands clasped over her lips, still unable to believe her son killed Hitler.

She was beaming with pride.

He saw his father... It was rare to see Sy Donowitz outside of his barbershop. It was almost inconceivable to  see his dad all the way in DC...

The man was smiling, crying tears of joy for his son.

Donny saw his little brother...not so little anymore. He was eleven years old when Donny left. He'd grown up, gotten taller. Donny was dreading the kid would be taller than him. He'd never hear the end of it. And he couldn't wait for it to start...

It had just been so long...

His heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimpse of Omar's love running through the crowd for him.

Donny thought of you in that moment...

He wondered if you really did wait for him...

He couldn't wait to see you. He wouldn't have blamed you if you moved on, how could he? It had been over three years without so much as a whisper from him.

He just needed to know you were happy.

With or without him, he needed to know that you were alright all that time.

Donny's family caught his eye. His brother had his arms crossed, and a smirk at that moment.

Donny raised an eyebrow in confusion...

After all this time, they were still brothers. Donny may have been a war hero, but he still knew his kid brother like the back of his hand.

He was hiding something behind his back.

Literally.

Donny glanced at his mother, who gave a slight nod, smiling more than he'd ever seen before.

...she knew something.

His brother stepped aside, and it was like Donny took his first breath since he joined the army.

Scratch that...

Since he left home...

Since he said goodbye to you.

And there you were, after all those years, still waiting, still smiling.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "That your family, son?" Donny was stunned, but he nodded and glanced at Aldo, who was smiling in pride. "That your girl?"

Of course Aldo already knew the answer to that. He'd seen Donny looking at a single picture of you all through the war. He had millions of reasons to fight... and one to come home...

Well, Aldo had seen something Donny hasn't yet.

He had two reasons to come home.

Donny nodded again.

Aldo chuckled a little, "Wellll, what're you waiting for you basterd?"

Donny smiled back, and ran.

He ran through the crowd.

He started slowing down...

By your side, he saw a child. A boy, about four years old.

He looked just like Donny.

His heart stopped for a second, a million questions racing through his mind, but was somehow compeled to  smile through it all.

The little boy looked up at his father for the first time ever. He recognized him from pictures, and he smiled as he babbled "Daddy!" And pointed at Donny.

Donny looked at you, and you could see all the questions in his eyes.

You nodded.

That was all he needed.

He got on his knee, looking up at you, then back down at his son.

The boy was carrying a baseball in his two hands. It looked giant in his tiny hands. He tossed it at Donny.

Donny let go of his bat, something he hadn’t been able to do in years.

He caught  the ball.

 He turned it over in his hand.

It was signed by Teddy fucking Williams.

Donny looked back at you as he reached out, and held his kid. Donny kissed his son at the top of his head.... He knew there was a reason he had to come home some day.

You filled Donny in a bit... "His name's Teddy."

After all these years...a tear streamed down his face.

You smiled, crouched by your family. You held onto Donny and your son, and couldn't help but giggle a little

"Aw...I thought you'd like that name."

Donny laughed a little, "He's fuc-" Donny caught himself. "He's beautiful..." He had a kid now... He couldn't exactly make his first impression with that kind of vocabulary.

You smiled, "He looks like you."

Donny smirked a bit, "I know." He caught a glimpse of his bat.

The blood stained bat.

For all the honor and pride that came with it, war wasn't something he wanted for his baby boy. He'd only known about him for  half a minute, but he would never let anything happen to that kid, or to you.

"I hope he's like you, doll." Donny stroked your cheek, drying away the remnants of happy tears.

But you couldn't help it. Tears streamed down your face again. You couldn't believe the war was finally over...

"I missed you so, so much."

Donny shook his head, "Don't cry... don't cry." He wiped away your tears again, "I'm home now. I ain't going anywhere now, doll. I'm home.

"Promise? Promise you won't go..."

Donny smiled and nodded, "Wouldn't lie to my wife, would I?"

"W...wife?"

You stood up slowly, his hand still resting on yours.

"Y..yeah well...." He looked back to his son, and to you, the girl he loved.

He let go of your hand for a moment, and went into his chest pocket.

He was just a private when he got it. It was his first time in Paris. He pulled a few strings and called in a few favors.

It wasn't a diamond ring, but it was the best he could do. A pearl engagement ring. He held onto it from that moment. Almost four years. Four years of missions and...almost dying. Once he almost died, and he held onto that ring for dear life...

It was that moment, when Donny was dancing with death, that Aldo saw the ring. He asked Donny about it, about his girl...and Donny pulled through that night. He only pulled through because he wouldn’t rest until he was able to give it to you. 

Aldo had convinced him of that, all those years ago...

And as Aldo answered a few questions from reporters, being a slave to appearances and all, he crossed his arms and watched it all happen.

"He did it...the basterd finally did it."

"Mr. Raine?"

He turned back to the reporters... He wasn’t used to being called ‘mister’ anymore... He glanced over at the dispersed basterds, and sighed, knowing it was long overdue.

 He gave a smug grin  as he snuck a glance or two at the impending proposal, then back at the reporters to answer questions, and distract them from you and Donny.

Donny looked at you. You were still stunned that he'd referred to you as 'wife.'

The truth was, your son was a surprise... And you had no way of telling Donny about him. You also weren't sure if Donny still loved you. You weren't sure what he'd say. You never had a way to tell him about his son. This was your only hope...

And he took you by surprise.

He looked into your eyes, and knew just how long he was gone.

Too long...

It was worth it, to have ended the war, to have saved lives, to have gotten justice... But nothing could replace the four years he lost with you and his son.

He wouldn't waste any more time.

"I know...I know I was gone for a long time... I know. I don't know if things changed at all for you...but they changed for me...I changed. No soldier comes back the same, doll, but...I-"

He felt like he'd never be able to word it all. He would never have the time. He'd never get those four years back. "I never stopped thinking about you. Not a day went by without me thinking of you, without me wishing I'd get you back, spend the rest of my fuckin...sorry kid." He laughed a little at himself, and covered his son's ears for a moment, "Spend the rest of my fucken life with you. I needed to come back. I needed to live long enough for this to happen, doll..."

He let go of Teddy, and he pulled a pearl ring out, stayed on one knee. One arm still wrapped around his son... He was almost four years old, and it pained Donny so much to think of all the things he missed. "War changed me a little, doll. But I never stopped loving you. That never changed. I wanted to come back, just for this one thing...if you'll have me."

You nodded, your voice was soft but true, "Yes.."

Donny smiled, he slipped the ring onto your finger. He held you and his son...

He picked up his bat...

And in a moment his family was holding him. He was holding you and his son.

When the war ended, he wasn't sure what to expect from the world.

He caught a glimpse of his bat... Sometimes, back in France he wasn't sure what was to come after it.

But he had his parents, his brother, you, and his son. 

For the first time in a long time, everything was the way it should have been.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 38/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey tried to speak but not a sound escaped her throat. Tears burned down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, her legs giving out.

Ben stepped forward to catch her in his arms before she could collapse. “Hey, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. I’m here, it’s over.”

Rey nodded, still unable to stop her tears. She just couldn’t anymore at her state, emotionally burned out and covered in dirt and grime. She had just lived through her worst nightmare: she’d fought Syed blow for blow and lost, failing her mission. And it was all his fault—this tree of a man with soft brown eyes who held her in his arms. And she didn't even resent him.

Still curled up at the foot of the bed, BB8 began to growl.

“Down, you fur ball!” Rey scolded her, causing her to lie back down with a yelp. She didn’t growl after that.

With Rey still in his arms, Ben sat down on the bed and nestled her body between his knees, putting his arms around her neck and pressing his face against hers. In the comfort of his broad frame, she let herself cry for real. He stroked her hair, covering her forehead and temples with gentle kisses. “Shhhh...It’s over, it’s done. You’re not in danger anymore. You were so brave.” “Ben… she tried to kill me.” “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry. That was my fault. I fucked everything up and I put you in danger. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

With his thumb, Ben wiped away a tear on Rey’s cheek, but she flinched away in pain. He gently took his hand away, looking deep into her eyes.

“It’s my turn to patch you up, beautiful. Let me take care of you.”

Rey acquiesced in silence. With steady hands, Ben helped her take off her jacket and her t-shirt. Her skin was marred with bruises where Syed had kicked her, and cuts and scrapes where she had been dragged across the pavement. Ben grabbed a sponge from Rey’s shoulder bag and wet it under a stream of tap water in the sink. Then, as gently as possible, he alternated between wiping her face and her hands. The layer of dirt that had been eclipsing her features began to fade bit by bit.   He found her luminous. This girl was like daylight in the face of darkness, like burning fire against ice. He had barely known her for a week but felt as though he was drowning in a bottomless pit when they were apart.

He dabbed gently at her wounds with a few disinfectant pads from her first aid kit. She let him, her eyes closed and her breathing uneven.

Rey opened her eyes when she felt his fingers in her hair. “What are you doing?” “Your hair is filthy. You should take a shower when you feel up to it. Saul told me you fought like a lioness.”

Rey stared at him in shock. “Saul? When the bloody hell did you talk to Saul—before or after he left me for dead on the side of the road?”

Ben rilled his eyes. She may or may not have been immortal. His fingers slowed their movements in her hair.

“He worked for me from the very beginning, like Kelsi and Shakti. Syed was double-crossed.” “And what about the microchip?”

“He gave it to me. His mission was to recapture it if Syed ever got her hands on it. Here, see?”

Within seconds he withdrew a small, mostly plastic rectangle from the pocket of his jeans. He placed it in the palm of her hand. Rey’s throat constricted with an emotion she couldn’t name. Her breathing was uneven again. “Is this the real thing? Why are you giving it to me?”

Ben placed a tender kiss on the shell of her ear. “You know why,” he whispered. “Tell me,” Rey breathed.

He leaned into her again, his burning lips  pressing softly against her ear. “Because I love you, Rey. It’s the only thing I know for sure. My whole life’s been swept away in a matter of days and yet I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you.”  

Rey closed her eyes. She turned her body just enough to find his mouth, and kissed him. Slowly, at first, almost shyly. She basked in the softness of his lips, in the slight prickle of his stubble against her skin, the taste of his tongue. “Ben,” she said in a broken voice, “if I give this to your mother, you’ll be sent to prison.” “I know.”

He looked down in resignation, not at all his usual fiery self. He had made his choice. Rey disentangled herself from his hold and came to her feet. “No, we have to do something! I can talk to Leia, she can—“ “Rey.” “She would never let her only son go to prison, not after you were the one who gave her the evidence in the first place and—“ “Rey!” “What?”

Ben smiled up at her with an odd sort of sadness in his eyes. “Let it go, okay? It’s up to me to face the consequences of my actions, remember? Don’t worry about me, I’m a big boy.”

Rey turned her back to him, unconvinced. Ben got up slowly, wrapping her arms around her from behind and burying his lips in her neck. “Hey,” he murmured against her skin. “I’ll fix it. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, promise?”

“If you think I can promise that, you don’t know me well enough,” she grimaced.

“Right. Knew that,” he grinned. “Promise me you won’t do anything dangerous then, okay? Your friends are waiting for you back in London.”

Rey’s a seeing smile dimmed. Her friends, in London. She thought she would never see them again. Her breaths turned into sobs again as Ben held her tightly in his arms.

“You can cry all you want, I’m here.” “I...I think I need some sleep,” she finally managed. It had been a grueling twenty-four hours. “Will you sleep next to me?” She asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. Rey stopped undressing when she got down to her underclothes. She darted underneath the covers with a satisfied groan, making Ben laugh. He took off his clothes as well, stripping down to his boxers and slipping in next to her. He rolled on to his side and wrapped his arms around her once more, skin against skin.  

“Tell me a story,” Rey murmured, already half-asleep.

“A story?” “Yeah...tell me about your family.” “As you wish,” he said, placing kisses against her shoulders, and the nape of her neck. She trembled at the feel of them.

“I’m the third act of a generational tragedy that will end in two weeks, when FORCE and Earth Soldiers confront each other in court. Are you sure you want to know?” “I already know some of it. Your mother told me. But I want to hear it from your perspective.” “Well...my parents never really wanted kids. I was an accident and I grew up with a lot of guilt on plate because of it. I always felt like I was a life-ruiner. My mother literally saved the world for a living and my father wanted a son—but not a son like me.” “Why do...you say that?” Rey hummed, still half-awake. “He wanted an adventurous son—some daring, never-say-die kid he could take on his batshit exploits and spontaneous road trips. He never really asked me what I wanted to do. And when I was fifteen, he died.”

Rey’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Her eyes were closed but her lips were parted. Ben kissed her hair.

“He died and it was my fault. I was the one who killed him,” he whispered softly.

He fell silent. Rey didn’t answer, she was asleep. Rey awoke to the sight of daylight filtering through the blinds.

Her first instinct was to panic: where was she? She overslept again! They needed to leave now, the Knights would be here any minute to—

Stop.

Everything was fine. Saul took care of Syed and Skylar. Ben gave her the microchip. No one was chasing her. She rolled over, expecting to find him there, but instead she found the bed empty.

Rey sat up, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t need to worry anymore, didn’t need to be scared. The scent lingering on her fingers caught her attention. Did her hair really reek so badly? Her memory flashed back to the dirty sidewalk, littered with discarded cigarettes and bits of trash. Ben had spent ages stroking and kissing her hair. Why hadn’t he said anything? Hell, that man was going to be the end of her. Rey made a beeline for the shower. A few minutes later she was clean and wrapped snugly in a towel, patting her hair dry. Mid-motion, a thought occurred to her: where on earth was BB8?

She checked her phone. No messages. Her eyes widened in panic. This was a fear she was all too familiar with. Did Ben disappear on her for good? She dressed quickly, throwing her hair into a messy bun and packing her remaining possessions. Great, now what? Should she call him or just wait? Was she supposed to leave?

On the nightstand, a little plastic object caught her eye. Rey’s mind raced as she held it in her hand.

It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing.

She slid it into her pocket. No need to hide it anymore.

A clicking sound from behind the door made her turn around. It opened to reveal BB8, and one Ben Solo dressed in black from head to toe. He was holding a styrofoam tray, which held two large disposable cups of coffee and two donuts.

“You went on a walk? With BB?” Rey smiles incredulously.

Ben shrugged. “She needed to go. Besides, it was nice out.” “And she didn’t bite?” “Well, not after I bribed her with a whole donut, I guess. Strangely enough, she’s warming up to me.”

He placed the tray on the nightstand, hardly noticing the absence of the microchip. “How are you feeling?” He asked, carefully stroking the purpling bruise on Rey’s cheek with his fingertips. “Not bad. I slept some. I feel a bit more like a proper human today.” “You’re perfect.” he said, making Rey blush.

She stared at her lap. His gaze was too intense, like he could see her soul. When was the last time someone looked at her like that? Finn had been loving, but their love had never been like this, even in the beginning. Ben looked at her like he wanted to consume her from the inside out, and it made her blood heat in ways she couldn’t describe. She clenched her thighs together to maintain her composure despite the lust that was gnawing at her. But...but what if she were to give in? What did she have to lose at this point? They were alone, clearly pining for each other with a few hours to spare—she could just let it happen... She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him towards her, capturing his lips in a long, heated kiss. She almost forgot to breathe. His hands slid beneath the fabric of her clothes, and he unhooked her bra without ever breaking the kiss. She protested feebly as he pulled both her bra and her t-shirt off in one swift motion, but her objections dissipated when his thumb circled her right nipple.

She gave him a taste of his own medicine, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and sliding it over his head. Due to his height he had to finish the movement himself. On Rey’s side, a large blue bruise was blooming. A similar bruise graced Ben’s back, somewhat yellower on the edges. Both of them had been the work of Syed Ren. Strangely enough, against all odds, she had unknowingly brought them closer together. Rey took a moment to admire a very shirtless Ben. Something about his marble skin was begging to be touched.

As for Ben himself, he was looking only at her. At the light dusting of freckles on her shoulders, and the dusky pink of her nipples that hardened under his ministrations. Delectable. Rey stood on her toes and kissed him again. She unzipped his jeans, running  both hands of her hands inside. Ben groaned when her fingers palmed his hardening cock. Refusing to stand still, he busied himself with removing her slacks. Somehow, she practically tripped and fell backwards onto the bed, dragging him with her. “Condom?” “In my pocket,” he replied smoothly.

“I may have to buy a few more if this keeps happening,” she mused. “Is that so?” Ben asked, giving her a genuinely surprised lopsided grin. “Of course my flight is in a week, how many times do you think we could get away with it?” “Only one way to find out,” he answered.

He stepped way to take off his jeans completely, leaving her to do the same. Rey stretched out on the bed, inviting him to join her. He lay down beside her, kissing her again with no small amount of urgency. “You can do anything you want, except one,” Rey whispered against his lips.

“Except what?” “Except for stop kissing me. I strictly forbid it.”

Any protest Ben had was cut off by yet another searing kiss.

“I haven’t forgotten that you can put that mouth to good use. But this time I want to look at you. Always.”

He kissed her harder in response, as she hooked her arms around the nape of his neck. He shifted his hips and suddenly he was on top of her. She sighed contentedly at the feeling of his skin against her own, the comforting weight of his body and the faint scent of his skin mixed with desire made for a heady combination.

He was careful to avoid her bruises, gliding the palm of his hand sensuously down her throat, between her breasts and along her abdomen, all the way down to the waistline of her underwear.

Her knees fell open to accommodate him, hips grinding down to give him better access to her core. Her skin was flushed, her slick soaking the cotton fabric of her briefs. He looked at her with the same desire reflected in his eyes.

Leaning his weight on his left elbow, Ben began taking off her underwear with his right hand, making sure to never break the kiss. She helped him by folding her legs so that the fabric slipped smoothly down her calves. One final push and the garment fell from her ankles down on to the carpeted floor.

Now that her hands were free, Rey used them to pull down Ben’s boxers and free his erection, pushing them as far down his body as she could in an attempt to remove them entirely. Ben got up onto his knees, finally moving his lips away from hers.

“Oi!” Rey protested, her eyes wide. “Safety first!” “Oh, right.”

He needed both hands and a few seconds, but soon an foil packet joined the pile of their clothes on the floor. Keeping his weight on his elbows, Ben stretched out against her, joining their mouths again in a sloppy kiss. She moaned into his mouth, swallowing each of his sighs. She welcomed him body and soul.

His right hand dipped between her folds, seeking her clit. Her body spasmed under his touch and she bit down painfully on his lower lip. He pressed on, fingers sinking deeper to find the hidden place inside her. He studied her reaction. Her breathing was ragged as her fingernails clawed at his back. They had only just begun. With his right hand, he guided his member along her swollen lips, teasingly rubbing back and forth without pressing inside. He could feel her tight bud throbbing against him in response to the friction.

It was her who broke the kiss now, desperately gasping for air and moaning her pleasure at the same time in a way that made his heart soar.

“What are you waiting for, fuck me!” She demanded raggedly. He broke out into a laugh, she was radiant. And valiant, and vulnerable, and debauched—everything he really needed right now, right here. She bucked her hips and opened her knees further, offering herself to him. He buried himself in one thrust, crying out in bliss. “Fuck yess,” she groaned as he slowly bottomed out.

He remained motionless for a moment, panting against her lips, his eyes open as if to study her. She pressed her forehead against his, arms curling tighter around his neck, fingers twining in his hair. He bucked his hips again, pulling all the way out before delving in again, causing her to whimper. He kept up the pace, finding a rhythm that made both of them keen. Rey rolled her hips in time, taking him deeper, changing the angle ever so slightly with each thrust to prolong her pleasure. She opened her legs even wider, propping her bent knees under Ben’s body. He let go of her mouth but still held her gaze. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her slightly so that she could take him deeper, if such a thing was possible. Flushed and breathless, she cradled his head in her hands.

“You...kept one...of them?” She stammered as her fingers found a section of braided hair, hidden behind his right ear. “To remind me...of you,” he panted. She lowered her knees and placed her feet on either side of him, gripping his shoulders. In this position, the pleasure hit her in waves, rippling deep into her core and making her thighs tremble. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting as she drew closer and closer to her peak.

Ben’s face was crimson, his eyes hooded and his mouth agape. Seeing him unhinged like this pleased her ever more. It only served to heighten her desire. She held his shoulders in a viselike grip, snapping her hips forward and—giving into a strange compulsion—she bent her head to lick a hot stripe along his neck. As her pulse skyrocketed she knew she was just on the cusp of climax. Her whole body thrummed in anticipation.

Every touch was like an electric current across her skin. Her hardened nipples strained against the friction of his chest, their bodies practically fusing together. How was it possible to match someone else like this? Like puzzle pieces that were made to fit together, built for a more perfect union—how had she lived so long without what felt like the most natural thing in the world?

She sped up, jerking her hips rapidly and impaling herself on his cock with a practically indecent amount of satisfaction. Ben held on to her as though she would suddenly disappear, cradling her in his arms and pressing his cheek against hers with each movement of their bodies. He broke when Rey leaned over to bite down on his earlobe.

“I love you,” he breathed, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

His body stilled and he lost the rhythm  as his climax tore through him violently. Her own movements faltered as he pulsed within her, a raw sound emanating from deep within his throat followed by a satisfied sigh. His eyes were still closed. He collapsed on top of her and she took the opportunity to stroke his hair and press her lips against his skin. She peppered his neck and the hollow beneath his ear with kisses before pulling away from him and gently tugging the condom off.

He curled around her immediately, giving her a long, slow kiss. Rey smiled. Hazel eyes met brown.

“Permission to put my mouth to good use?” “Granted.”

She was flushed and soaking, but she hadn’t been able to come. Gentleman that he was, he could never leave her hanging.

He licked a trail down her stomach, kissing each of her nipples and her navel, running his lips through her folds along the length of her core all the way up to her pearl. She practically melted when he began to mouth her in earnest, twisting her fingers into his hair and holding him firmly against her center. She felt her pleasure mounting again, her body ready to give in this time, her muscles contracting eagerly until she felt herself falling suddenly off the precipice. She let out a long, electrifying moan as she came against his mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably and arching off of the bed.

She melted into a sated, inarticulate puddle. Ben moved up to join her, carding his fingers through her hair and kissing her again.

“I love you,” she whispered as she looked into his eyes. “I know.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 33

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Feels, angst. 

A/N: Well... look... all I’m going to say is don’t @ me. I know. Trust me I KNOW but also... Just... I’m sorry. 

And seriously, from the bottom of my cold heart, THANK YOU ALL FOR GOING ON THIS JOURNEY SO FAR WITH ME! OFAM is my first baby and I have learned a lot working through this story and I’m sure I’ll learn more as this winding road continues (I know where it’s ending but we aren’t there yet). I can’t say enough about all the amazing people who read this and tell me what they like and reblog, and just love on me in general. Y’ALL ARE THE BEST! 

Tags are open!

Bucky’s mind has been in overload since the flashback so it’s nice to be on the bike, to lose himself in the feeling of the wind on his face and the sound of it. One thing keeps slipping into his thoughts though. Louder than the bike, sweeter than the wind sliding over his skin. The look on your face this morning. 

He’d been terrified to give that key to you. Unsure what you may think of it or if you’d even want to share a space with him after… But the way your eyes filled, the way you smiled, how you cuddled into his chest like it was the only place you wanted to be. It was better than any reaction he imagined. 

About an hour outside of the city he begins to feel a bit guilty. Lying to you wasn’t something he was fond of but he knew if he had explained what he was really doing you’d protest. Plus, it wasn’t entirely a lie. He did do day labor here and there and he intended to do some labor today. 

He pulls off the main road onto a dirt track. The open fields to either side were both peaceful and unnerving. No cover here. If someone were to- No, he wasn’t going to go down that dark train of thought. He has a plan, he’s going to see it through. 

A small outcrop of trees rise to the right and he veers down the barely visible driveway. 

This was where he first hid out when he made it to Romania. Finding it felt a little like luck. No one had lived here for years but the old house was still sound. There wasn’t electricity or running water but he had done without those things in the past. Trees grew around most of the property providing plenty of cover. The best part was the solitude; there weren’t people around for miles. He needed that for the first couple of months, and would still retreat here when things in the city or in his head overwhelmed him. 

Pulling the bike up to the side of the house he hops off, shifting the rucksack to his left shoulder. He avoids the trip wires and various traps as he makes his way to the back door. Setting the overstuffed bag down he unlocks the door and disables the trip wire it automatically set off, more than a little pleased he doesn’t have to replace the battery just yet. 

In the old kitchen, he sets the bag on the table with a thud and begins unloading it. He pulls out some cured meats, crackers, protein bars, canned vegetables, dry pasta, and an unholy amount of coffee.

Nervously, he runs his hands through his hair. Maybe he should have brought some nicer things. Wine? Did you even like wine? 

He laughs a little at himself, the sound somewhat startling in the quiet place. This wasn’t some romantic getaway. Romance… wasn’t even on the table. This was about sustenance and there was enough to keep you both comfortable for a couple of days, plus he’d bring more tomorrow. 

There’s still some wood by the stove, and likely plenty in the barn out back. Bucky walks through the small one bedroom house pulling sheets off the ramshackle furniture, making sure no water got in anywhere, disarming the window trip wires to slide them open and let fresh air into the stuffy space. With the house sorted he heads out back for the real work. 

The corral is a good size for what he needs and the bushes surrounding it are almost his height providing a bit of extra coverage. It is, however, sporting a miniature forest. He heads to the barn and gears up with some of the old tools and gloves. 

Hours later he’s got the coral cleared of any overgrowth and debris. The area is tilled leaving the ground soft. Perfect for a sparring area. On one side he’s set up some makeshift targets with slats from the partially destroyed fence. He’d need to bring something to mark them with tomorrow. 

Back in the barn, he heads into one of the two stalls slipping his finger into a knot in one of the floorboards. Half the floor lifts to reveal a large metal locker. He opens it just a crack to disarm the trip wires that would set off the bombs inside the box before opening it. 

After finding this safe house getting armed was all he focused on. The small arsenal had been easy enough to come by, well, easy for someone like him. He triple checks the ammo and knives. Plenty of different kinds for you to practice with. Sighing he grabs a knife and sits back leaning against the wall of the stall. Absentmindedly he flips the blade in his right hand, skillfully spinning it and twirling it. 

You were going to fight him every step of the way on this. If he was being honest with himself he’s not too thrilled about it either, the risk of hurting you is high. But he’d trained others in the past, as the soldier, and not injured them too badly. That he remembered… he remembered almost everything about being the soldier. It was almost the ultimate cruelty he thought. Leaving him with the monster, making him fight to find the man. 

With a swoosh and a thud, the six-inch blade buries itself into the opposite wall. He stares at the quivering handle for a second. 

“What the hell are you doing, Barnes?” He asks aloud. His left-hand drags across his face, smooth metal fingers scratching at the scruff of his beard. 

Some other part of him, the part that isn’t quite Bucky but isn’t exactly the monster either, once again whispers that he shouldn’t try this, should let you go. He stares down at his metal palm curling it in. Hydra’s fist. 

They took everything from you when you’d already suffered and fought enough in your short life. What right did he have to even think of touching you with hands that had shaped the century for them? Hands that helped make their destruction of your life, of your family, possible. None. He had no right. 

He promises himself right then, after he knows you can defend yourself against anything, even him, he’ll go. It was the good thing to do. Not like it would even begin to wipe away the bad but… it was better than what he wanted. And what he wanted… he couldn’t have. 

His eyes burn. Clearing his throat he pushes the emotion away. He plucks the knife from the wall and replaces it, rearming the locker and putting the floor hatch back. Back in the house he resets all the security trips and locks up. 

The sunset is colorless to him on the ride back. His jaw so tense it hurts. The selfish boy in him doesn’t like this choice he’s made. No part of him likes that he won’t tell you this last piece of his plan. That’s ok though. It’s what’s best. 

In the elevator, he thinks that maybe you just won’t be there. Just maybe you’d have come to your senses and flew the coop while he was gone. It would hurt worse than that fucking chair he knew but… 

As the doors slide open he hears music spilling from the apartment. He tries to tamp down the smile on his face but can’t seem to manage it. Hating himself a little at how happy he is that you’re still here. 

For a moment he stands outside the door just listening to you sing along to some song about a killer queen. It sounds ridiculous but he kind of likes it. Or maybe he just likes the joy he can hear in your voice. 

He knocks loudly so he doesn’t startle you, “It’s me.” He opens the door and steps in. 

Inside he’s hit not only with the level of the music but a smell that slams into his brain like a bullet. Apple pie. It literally knocks him off kilter. He leans against the wall, holding his face in his left hand, wrapping his right arm across his chest. 

So many images flood his mind. His hands, but smaller, both flesh and bone, working the pie dough in the kitchen while his Ma sang some old Irish song. She was pregnant with… Mary maybe? He and Steve running to their place after a fight when they were still just kids. Ma cleaning their cuts and giving them each a slice before his Pa got back. His Ma giving him a pie wrapped in one of her good linen towels, tears in her bloodshot blue eyes… his eyes… to give to Steve’s Ma after his Pa passed. On and on and on. 

He doesn’t even notice that the music has stopped. Can barely feel your gentle touch on his right forearm, the caress of your delicate fingers on the back of his metal hand. A hand that…Thank god his Ma never… He realizes he’s… crying. 

“Bucky?” Your voice makes the images slow. 

He swallows a sob as he moves his left hand. You’re hovering just a bit so your face is level with his own. Those gorgeous eyes, big with worry. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you try to suss out what may have happened. Tenderly you move some stray strands of hair from his face and wipe at the tears. 

He takes both your hands in his own, “I’m ok, doll… sorry.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to apologize.” Your tone is so sincere so… kind, “And you don’t have to be ok.”

A smile softly curls his lips, “I know. But,” he clears his throat, his emotions settling, “I really am.” His lips graze your palm, a part of him wincing, remembering his promise, his plan. That’s not right now though. Right now you’re here and he’s home. 

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @souless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays  @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets  @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel  @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius  @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead  @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2

[happilywithharold]

Dress Up

Paisley rounded up as many plastic tea cups and saucers in both of her arms as she could. The exuberant five year-old had been adamant on creating a night to remember for the both of us. It was her first time being back home since spending the weekend at Harry’s new flat. The process of the divorce drained her almost as much as it began to wear on me.

“Okay, mommy. It’s finished!” She said, pretending to pour the last of the tea from the kettle. “Now all we have to do is get dressed up. Look what daddy brought me.”

Paisley ran over to her overnight backpack. Then she knelt down to rummage through the mix of clean and dirty clothes to pull out a fluffy ball gown, which resembled Belle’s attire from ‘Beauty and The Beast’. It was her favorite Disney princess of all because she was so smart and loved storytime just as much as she did.

“Oh my.” I gasped and threw my hands to both my cheeks. “That is beautiful, Ms. Paisley. Let’s get it put on you.”

I helped fit the gown over her clothes and gazed at her fondly. “Paisley, you look gorgeous! You are literally going to be the belle of the ball!”

She giggled and twirled around for me. “Do I look like a princess, mommy?”

“The prettiest princess of them all.”

My daughter tilted her head and looked at me in confusion. “But… what are you going to wear, mommy? You cannot wear that.”

I was taken back by the sass infused in her statement, a dry laugh slipping past my lips. I supposed I couldn’t blame her from being exposed to Harry’s and my banter.

“Excuse me?” I stretched out the hem of my striped jumper and smoothed a hand over my jeans. “I think mommy looks very good in this, don’t you?”

The dimples she inherited from her father indented both of her cheeks as she gave me a small smile. “But it’s not a dress. You have to wear a dress to the ball.”

I decided to humor her and stood up. “Okay. Why don’t you help me find one, yeah?”

I took her small hand in mine and walked with her to my bedroom. A box of Harry’s belongings still stood in one corner. I made a mental note to call him about picking it up. So much was on my mind these days that I had forgotten.

Paisley struggled to open my closet, grunting fiercely and shuffling her tiny feet against the carpet with rage. “A-Almost got it, mommy.”

She was nowhere near almost. However, I leaned up against the opposite side where the actual opening to the sliding door was. “Oh, you’ve got it! I think you just need one big, gigantic push. One more time for mommy, darling.”

As she tried again, I subtly pushed the door back before she could see and gasped. “Oh my goodness! Look how strong you are!”

She gave me one of the biggest smiles I had seen on her in months. “Daddy taught me.”

My heart ached for a moment. She was so fond of Harry, so much that sometimes it made me regret ever having to make them part. It was a major change for all of us, but it would be foolish to think it hadn’t impacted Paisley the most.

While I had been stuck in my reverie, Paisley had invaded my closet and tugged on one of the transparent garment bags.

“This one, mommy! This one!”

My eyes locked on my wedding dress, and a pang of desolation coursed through me. It was no fault of Paisley’s, yet the irony of the situation was not lost on me.

I whispered, “Not that one. Let’s try another, hm? Maybe we can find a color to match your pretty yellow. Can you find a yellow dress for me?”

She frowned at me, her lips pouted and brows low over her eyes. “This one is so pretty. Please, mommy!”

“I said no, Paisley.”

Her bottom lip started to quiver, and I sighed. She did not know any better. That was not an access pass to feed into her temper tantrum though.

“You are a big girl, aren’t you? Big girls don’t cry.”

She nodded solemnly before ambling her way out of the closet and over to me. She pressed her face up against my leg as she clutched onto my belt loops. “I just wanted you to look pretty, mommy.”

I glanced back at the dress, battling my thoughts. “Okay. I’ll put it on but only for a little while.”

I suppressed the idea that this was anything more than playing dress up. Paisley deserved a little fun after all Harry and I had put her through. Even if it killed me, I could soldier through an hour or so for our little girl.

We were about an half hour into playing when I heard the door of Paisley’s bedroom creak open. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Paisley made the announcement all on her own.

“Daddy!” She screamed, pushing up from her small table and jumping into his arms.

I stood up, my cheeks rosy with mortification and regret. I should have never put this stupid thing on. Harry’s eyes never left me as Paisley rambled on and on to him about how much fun we were having.

I shrugged slightly. “She threw a fancy ball for the two of us. I guess my other threads didn’t quite make the cut.”

Harry did not respond to me. Instead, he kissed Paisley’s forehead and set her down. “Why don’t yeh go grab a snack from downstairs while mommy and I talk? I brought yeh some of those apple juices and cookies yeh like.”

I started to go after her as she sprinted out of the room. “Just two cookies, Paisley! Two!”

Harry sighed. “Are yeh trying t’confuse her even more, Y/N? Yeh can’t prance around in your wedding dress and not expect her t-“

“To what?” I interrupted, “We were playing, Harry. I really don’t need a lecture from you on parenting right now. Why are you even here? It’s my week.”

I could see the flash of hurt in his eyes as he wiggled his set of keys in my face. “Wanted to give these back to yeh.”

I snatched the keys from him and ran my fingers through my hair. “Message received. You can go now.”

“Y/N… there’s something else.”

I tried to avoid eye contact with him. It physically pained me to have him standing here right now. Although I knew he would have to be around for Paisley, I truly was not up for another heart-to-heart. “What?”

“I’ve met someone, and I want your permission to introduce Paisley t’her.”

I felt my lungs collapse as I fought for a breath of air that wasn’t contaminated with envy and heartbreak.

I shakily took a seat on Paisley’s bed and peered at Harry with wide eyes. “It’s only been a few weeks since the divorce was final. When the hell did you have time to meet someone?” My stomach churned at the thought of him having an affair. It was almost too much for me to bear. I ripped my gaze from him. “You know what? I don’t want to know, and I don’t want our daughter meeting her. It’s too soon.”

“For her or for you?” He snapped.

“This has nothing to do with me. I don’t want her getting hurt. How do you explain that you’ve already moved on to a five year-old?”

Harry stared at me blankly. “The same way we explained to her that we were getting divorced.”

“How long have you known her?! It can’t be anything more than a quick fuck, Harry. Our daughter is not going to get mixed up in your mess,” I countered.

“I can’t believe I expected more from you…” He swore under his breath. “Christ, Y/N. You can play dress up all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not my wife anymore! You made that decision all on your own.”

He stormed out before I could say more, not that I wanted to. His words ripped the rug out from underneath me. What hurt the most was that they were all true. I decided this. I wanted him gone. And now, he was.

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[katsbooks]

Down With The Fallen - Chapter One

The Captain x Self-Insert

After being captured with several other women, Kat is given to the Captain of the group called Millennium. 

I’m still really uncertain about posting this, tbh, between the self-insert and the risque themes. Not the smut, I’m not ashamed by that, but the other stuff I’m pretty hesitant about. Worse comes to worse, you can always ignore it.

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           Cold. It was so cold, freezing really. Even more so in the thin, short halter dress she was forced to don, like the other women there with her. She stood pressed in the corner of the room, her hands tied in front of her, half hidden by a couple of women in front of her.

             They were all being looked at like they were pieces of meat, the demented red-eyed men grinning lecherously. Behind them was the man that planned this, a short portly man with glasses and an insane grin.

             “Vell gentlemen, I present to you a gift for all your hard vork and persistence. The highest ranking officers vill have their pick of the lot…and the rest of them are free for the taking. Only rules are no bloodletting, no biting,” he grinned widely and the men—soldiers—all cheered. He had a thick German accent, much like many of the others around him.

             The highest ranking officers stepped forward, taking their pick of the group of women, leading them away crying and fighting. Kat pressed back further in her corner, going unnoticed by the approaching men, but she still had the unpleasant sensation of someone’s eyes on her.

             “Hm? Ach, is zere someone who’s caught your eye Captain?” the Major inquired, noticing the lycanthrope’s gaze towards the corner of the room. He caught sight of the young woman trying to make herself as least noticeable as possible as her companions were picked through. “Ze one in the corner, hm?”

             The Captain glanced at him from the corner of his eye and the Major took that as an affirmative. He spoke to Warrant Officer, pointing the girl out and telling him to bring her to him. The officer nodded and made his way over, nudging aside the other women to reach the girl, who seemed to realize whom he was after. She looked terrified, but she didn’t fight too much after the first initial attempt of digging her heels into the floor.

             The officer led her back to the Major and stopped her in front of him.

             The young woman was taller than most, and a little softer than the Major had expected, her hips, breasts and waist holding most of that suppleness. She was trying her hardest to keep from trembling, though it was quite difficult considering how cold it was in there. Her skin was a blotchy purple from the chill. She had dark hair, tied back in a messy braid down her back and pretty brown eyes.

             “Zis is the one, ja?” the Major smiled up at the Captain, whose eyes were on the woman noticeably. She nervously looked back, shifting a little from the intensity of his gaze. “Zat would be a yes. Vell then, Captain, vhy don’t you keep this one? You’ve worked long and loyally for me, I believe a reward is in order.”

             Kat wasn’t sure if she should be relieved at that or horrified. Honestly, she would rather one than many, but it was the fact of the matter that she was being used, period, that bothered her. This…man was easily the largest in the room, tall and broad and she was sure there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body either. He could probably crush her if he really wanted to.

             “Vhat is your name, girl?” the Major turned his attention to her again. She was quiet for a moment, hesitant about answering him, but she finally, reluctantly, whispered,

             “It…it’s Kat, sir…”

             “Kat? My, zat is a cute name. The cat and the volf! Ha!” he laughed at his own inside joke, chortles following from the surrounding soldiers. “Vell zen Kat, allow me to congratulate you. It is an honor to be picked out for such a prestigious soldier. You vill be treated vith the proper respect from ze others. A thanks is in order?”

             Kat twitched a little. He wanted her to thank him? For kidnapping her to be used for God knows what by this beast of a man?

             ….she suppose it could be worse…she could be stuck with that psychotic Doctor.

           So clenching her jaw tightly and staring down at her feet, she mumbled out a forced ‘thanks.’

             The Major grinned, looking back up at the Captain. “You are dismissed, Captain. Go and take your female. Enjoy yourself!”

             ‘….sick bastard…hope you choke on your dinner…’ Kat thought, flinching a little when the Captain reached out and wrapped a large hand around her upper arm, his skin searing compared to the temperature of the room. She was led out of the room and down the halls, her bare feet freezing on the metal tiles.

             She lost track of the turns and number of halls they passed, before they stopped in front of a grey door with a plaque stating ‘Captain Hans Gunsche’ on it. Well, at least she knew his name now. It gave little comfort.

             He opened the door and gave a gentle push to her back. She walked inside with much reluctance, stopping in the middle of the room. She heard him shut the door, but didn’t turn around, not even when he flipped the lock. It was a little warmer in here, thankfully. Not by much, but at least she was starting to be able to feel her fingers and toes again.

             Kat nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hot hand on the bare section of her upper back. She realized after a moment that he was tracing her tattoo—a scrolled design of her Zodiac sign across her left shoulder. He paused for a moment, then started to trail his fingers along the expanse of her back, lightly trailing down her spin until he hit the edge of her dress. He paused again, then walked around her to stand in front of her. He had tossed aside his hat, letting his messy white hair fall even more into his face. He took her hands and nimbly untied her restraints, before sliding his hands up to her arms and squeezing lightly.

             It was a silent order—stay right there.

             Kat’s trembling began again as his hands moved higher yet, to the loop of her halter dress. He slid his fingers underneath it, then lifted it up, over her head…and then he let it go, and the dress fluttered down around her ankles, leaving her as bare as the day she was born. She wanted so badly to cover herself, but was afraid of how he would respond. She forced herself to keep her arms at her sides.

             He did nothing at first. Just looked at her, studying her really.

             Took in her flaws and imperfections, the largeness of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. Her plump stomach, her long legs and broader than normal shoulders.

             He looked at her with an interest she rarely experienced from men.

             Then he slowly knelt down in front of her, surprising her and making her a little more nervous. What was he doing? He gripped her hips and leaned forward, pressing his nose against her lower stomach, before breathing in deeply. He was…smelling her? Kat’s brows furrowed a little in confusion, looking down at the top of his head (good lord, his hair looked soft).

             What on earth was he doing?

             Well, whatever it was, he seemed to approve because he stood again, a slightly different look in his eyes. He seemed more eager now.

             The man unfastened his overcoat and tossed it aside, leaving him only in his pants and boots. At least she had been correct to assume he had no body fat on him. The man was all muscle. Off went his boots, but he stopped at his pants for the moment. No, now he was approaching her again, those unnerving red eyes darkened a little.

             Kat nearly jumped out of her skin a second time when his hand brushed against her stomach, pressing the full width of his palm and fingers against her skin, the tips of those long fingers brushing the underside of a breast. Dear God, he was a large man.

             Then his hand went up, sliding his fingers along the side of her breast, exploring. Her nipples, already hard from the cold, tightened even more at the touch of a curious fingertip. She watched him carefully, edgy and scared. He cupped her breast in his large hand, his thumb playing with her nipple for a moment, before he continued traveling his hands along her body. He was feeling her out, quite literally. One of his hands griped her hip suddenly while its twin slid between her thighs and Kat let out a gasp, reaching out to grasp his arms out of reflex, looking up at him with wide eyes and a blush.

             He cupped her heat, those long fingers easily slipping between her nether lips and rubbing her clit. Her knees nearly buckled and she had to lean a little against him to keep from hitting the floor, gripping his arms tightly. Dear God, he was arousing her. She supposed it was a little thoughtful on his part, but also a little horrifying at the fact her body was actually responding to his ministrations, growing wet and hot.

             He pulled his hand away to grasp her arms, tugging her back with him as he backed up to the bed. He sat down and had her stand in front of him, blushing and quivering. He reached down again and tapped her thighs, silently telling her to part them more. She didn’t at first and those red eyes rolled up to look at her through his pale lashes. He waited patiently as she struggled with herself, before deciding she would rather much enjoy it as much as she could, rather than it hurt. She inched her feet apart, spreading her thighs enough for him to slip his hand back between them and continue with his play.

             Kat grasped his shoulders, as they were easier to reach now, to steady herself. He stroked her, playing with her sensitive pearl, and her body responded in kind, heating enough for her to not even notice the chill in the room anymore. Her toes curled when he pressed a digit against her entrance and slowly pushed it inside. Her slick walls clenched and dripped, so she felt no discomfort.

             Kat was no virgin, by any means. Granted, she only ever had one partner in her entire life, but she was no innocent when it came to sex. After he left her, though, she had moved to Germany to continue her education and forget about her pain. Instead, she ended up getting jumped and kidnapped, and the rest was history.

             She gasped when he curled his finger inside her and rubbed a sensitive bundle of nerves inside of her. He took note of that and continued to repeat the action against that same spot, while his thumb rubbed her clit. It was amazing how quickly she climaxed from that stimulation, and her knees did buckle underneath her.

             She didn’t hit the floor though, no, the Captain had moved quickly and had her stretched out on the bed while she was still experiencing the aftershocks of her orgasm. Kat looked up at him, wide-eyed. He gazed back for a moment, before his hand returned to her cunt and began rubbing her again. He didn’t let her climax again though, he pulled back before she did, leaving her panting and dazed. She heard a belt being unbuckled and heavy clothing hit the floor and she clenched her eyes shut, biting her lip.

             ‘Don’t cry, Kat. Don’t cry. Crying will do nothing for your benefit,’ she thought as a lump rose in her throat. It hurt to swallow and she tensed when she felt the Captain return to the bed, his hands sliding up her thighs and pushing them further apart to make room for his body. Her breathing quickened as his hand rested on the bed beside her head, holding his weight up while the other gripped his length, guiding it to her entrance.

             He pressed the tip against her and moved his hand to rest on the other side of her head. Then he surged forward and Kat choked out a cry.

             She was tight already, and it had been several months since her last sexual encounter. The Captain was not small by any means and it stung a lot when he entered her. She writhed underneath him, trying to catch her breath as tears burned at her eyes. He pressed down onto her, lowering himself onto his elbows, keeping her still. He wasn’t moving, letting her adjust to his size.

             Kat whined a little, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, right underneath her jaw, breathing deeply, taking in her scent and feeling her heart rate pound underneath his lips.

             He began to move, slowly, languidly at first. She winced and fisted the sheets beneath her hands and whimpered softly. But he kept that lazy pace without increasing any force or depth, and she adjusted, relaxing a little underneath him. He lifted a little of his weight off her so she could move a little easier and started to thrust at a slightly faster pace.

             She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his body sliding against hers as he moved, his shaft reaching deep inside her. It…actually began to feel good. She relaxed further, fingers twisting the sheets a little. He moved an arm, reaching down to catch her leg behind the knee and lifting it up, hooking it around his waist. He touched a new angle and she gave a soft hum in her throat unintentionally.

             He lifted his head to look at her at the noise and she flushed and looked away. She hadn’t meant to make any noise. She shouldn’t be enjoying this in the least, yet there she was, enjoying every thrust inside her more and more. She heard a soft sound, like deep thunder, and realized after a moment he was chuckling softly.

             “Oh, stop laughing at me!” She threw her arms over her face. He merely chuckled again and gave a sharp thrust inside her that had her arching and gasping for the air that had suddenly left her lungs. Kat grasped the sheets above her head, wanting some sort of purchase as he did it again, twisting his hips in such a way he hit that bundle of nerves inside her. “Oh my God…”

             He rumbled deep in his chest in approval, keeping up with the deep, intense thrusts. Her toes curled in pleasure and her back arched. A low moan left her throat unbidden, and she wanted to cry.

             The coil of pleasure in her belly was growing tighter and tighter, her breath becoming more ragged and quick the tighter it clenched. The Captain was also becoming winded as he grew closer to his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic and hard. When she reached orgasm, she gave a keening cry, losing her breath from how hard she came. Her body clenched tight around the Captain and with a low growl within his chest, he quickly followed, filling her womb with his seed.

             It took a few minutes for the aftershocks to ebb away, leaving Kat panting and trembling underneath the winded Captain, whose face was pressed into her neck. He slowly relaxed and lowered her leg, pulling out and sitting back his haunches. Kat peered at him through her half-lidded eyes and arms, still in a haze from her orgasm.

             He was absently tracing his fingertips against her quivering thigh, having caught his breath already and looking completely unfazed, if considerably more relaxed. Kat lowered her arms, letting her hands rest on her ribs, watching him, wondering what he was thinking or planning. He sensed her gaze on him and glanced up, catching her eyes.

             The intense red had softened to a gentle glow, hinting that he was content for now. He paused for a moment, before he reached out and caught a lock of hair between his fingers, feeling it. She watched him curiously, her fear having mostly worn itself out. She was still wary, but she figured that if he was going to hurt her, he would have done so already.

             Kat’s lips twitched a little at the sight of him stretching out, just to play with her hair. She hesitated, then slowly sat up, so he could reach a little easier. He seemed pleased with that, because a small smile graced his lips.  He ran his fingers through her hair until he reached her braid, which he pulled over her shoulder and slid his hand over, feeling every twist and bump in it.

             What an odd man, she thought. He had no interest on wearing her out to the point of exhaustion, like she was sure the other women were enduring at the moment, no he seemed fully interested in her. How she felt, how she looked, how she smelled. He seemed entertained when she spoke earlier, pleading that he stop laughing at her, instead of irritated like most others would have been. He had brought her pleasure before he brought his own, waited for her to adjust to his large girth so she wouldn’t hurt. It was an odd feeling, having this large and intimidating male mind her.

             True, he still got what he wanted from her, but at least he wasn’t sending her to some cell to wait for the next session or tying her up again. No, he was sitting there with her, playing with her hair and touching her skin. He lifted her braid to his nose and breathed in, smiling a little. At least she smelled good. Kat had a love affair with anything coconut-scented, so she often smelled very sweet.

             She tilted her head a little as she observed the Captain. What was his name again? Hans? Hans Gunsche. She rubbed her neck absently, shifting a little on the bed—then making a face of disgust, looking down between her thighs. Semen and vaginal fluid seeped from her entrance, soaking the bed. Gross.

             Hans noticed and blinked, looking as well. He sat there for a moment, before letting go of her hair and moving to his feet, walking across the room to a tall cabinet. Even Kat had to admire the hard muscle moving smoothly underneath his tan skin. He opened it and pulled out a towel, making her blink as he walked back over, sitting back down in front of her again. Kat flushed as he tapped her thigh, silently telling her to move it further. She did so and watched with a heavy blush as he carefully cleaned her up, before setting the towel on the ground beside the bed.

             Hans shifted back on the bed so his back rested against the wall it was pushed against, before motioning for her to approach him. Kat paused, then shifted to her hands and knees, crawling closer to him. His eyes flickered a little, he liked that. He gently grabbed her arms and lifted her up, moving her to straddle his lap. Kat rested her hands against his chest naturally. ‘My God, this man is ripped….like, Arnold Schwarzenegger ripped, just without the bulk,’ she thought. His hands rested against her thighs, tracing designs on her soft skin.

             He leaned forward and nuzzled against her neck, which of course tickled her and made her squirm while trying not to giggle. No, no laughing. Honestly, what was she doing getting comfortable with this man anyway?

             ….well, she was going to be stuck there for a long time, may as well accept that. And he could easily hurt her if she tried to resist. So yeah, logic dictated that she may as well get comfortable with him.

             Kat squeaked when she felt what seemed like fangs against her flesh. What the hell, was this guy a vampire?! Oh God, please don’t let him drink her blood, she couldn’t handle that. Another low rumble of laughter from him. He was teasing her, what a prick.

             ….Hm, he seemed too…complacent to be a vampire. What else was there? As she started to ponder this, Hans was becoming busy with arousing her again, breaking off her train of thought. His hot tongue slid over her neck, followed by a scrape of fangs again, his hands massaging her hips. She shivered a little, sliding her hands up hesitantly to rest her arms loosely around his neck. He gave a soft rumble and she relaxed, he was alright with it. He seemed pleased that she was responding like she was.

             He didn’t touch her heat again, no, he was finding new ways to arouse her. Sucking at her neck was a good start, and his fingers tracing the inside of her thighs was definitely a way to rev her engines. Kat gave a soft sigh and hummed quietly in pleasure, the faint sound echoed by one of his own. He seemed more vocal than she thought, but she doubted he would actually speak. He showed no inclination of talking, preferring to use his actions to speak for himself.

             She didn’t know how he did it, but he got her wet again without ever touching her cunt. He smirked a little against her neck and gripped her hips again, lifting them up, hovering her over his straining erection. He slid into her much easier this time, as she was pulled down over him until her hips met his. Kat pressed her face into his shoulder, shuddering. It hadn’t ever felt this good before, this man definitely knew what he was doing to pleasure a woman.

             The rhythm was slow and easy at first, he let her move herself over him after he tapped her hips. She rocked her hips a little as she moved him inside her. He let his hands wander over her, following her curves. As she started to grew needier, he gripped her hips again, now starting to rock his own hips to meet hers as the pace increased.

             Kat softly moaned, almost unperceivable to a human’s ears. Yet, he proved he definitely wasn’t that and he heard her loud and clear. Giving a low growl, he moved faster and harder into her, now helping her move over him. She whined and rocked her hips harder, her breathing growing ragged from the exertion and the growing pleasure thrumming through her once again. When she felt those sharp fangs on her shoulder, right by the junction of her neck, she couldn’t have stopped the mewl that left her lips even if she wanted to.

             Hans growled in approval, and he sucked hard on that spot as he thrust hard and fast into her from below, making her whole body quake. When she climaxed for the third time that night, he quickly followed and sank his teeth deep into her shoulder, making her yelp at the sudden mixture of pain and pleasure that made her orgasm again unexpectedly.

             She collapsed against him as he withdrew his teeth from her skin, licking it to stop the blood flow. She twitched against and around him, panting for air.

             She felt….something strange in her mind. A…a nudging, like a presence knocking at her door. She furrowed her brows, trying to figure it out. This was a foreign sensation to her, one she was unfamiliar with. Was she about to get a migraine? Or was it the effects of what was happening to her? ….she wasn’t losing her mind, was she?

             Hans gave a soft snort, as if he heard her wild thoughts, and nuzzled the bite mark on her shoulder. The presence seemed to stroke at her mind, caressing it.

             ….this would take some time to figure out, but she was having suspicions on what was causing the feeling. Related mostly to the white-haired man wrapping his arms around her waist.

             …she would figure it out in the morning. She was a little exhausted at the moment. She rested her head against Hans’ shoulder and let her eyes flutter shut. Might as well try to get some rest while she was able to.

             She heard Hans give a low rumble, but she was already too far gone. She vaguely remembered him pulling out of her and moving her to lay down on the bed, before she completely slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

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Holy crow, I can’t believe I’m uploading this. But, I couldn’t properly convert this one into a reader-insert, and honestly I felt it was a little too disturbing to have reader-chan subjected to it.

I don’t think I’m going to make it a super long fic, but we’ll see.

NEXT: https://katsbooks.tumblr.com/post/181947339497/down-with-the-fallen-chapter-two