#so he found himself a winter rose to counter it

[hetagrammy]

ASOIAF AU Shenanigans: Alasdair went looking North for alliances after his mother's death. Lord Stark had a sister to spare, and to everyone's surprise, they worked out swimmingly.

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Shielded

[Resident Evil: Village] Dimitrescu Sisters x Fem! Reader | Bela Dimitrescu x Female Reader, Cassandra Dimitrescu x Female Reader, Daniela Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: A short fight, near-death experiences, blunt death of a major character (from the series), blood

[A/N]: This is part one of my short stories for the Dimi sisters. I'll have one for each sister individually once I can set up an outline.

Here are the continuations:

Bela Cassandra Daniela

Enjoy!

Alcina Dimitrescu’s daughters were known by those in the Village to be rather sadistic. They enjoyed torturing their victims for days, often verging on weeks, because they found the terror on their faces amusing. They never seemed to struggle in a fight, no matter how much bigger their opponent was. Even individually they were too powerful. That is–so long as they aren’t weakened first. The one downside to the experiments they had been under, performed by Mother Miranda herself, was that they couldn’t withstand any temperature “below 50 degrees Fahrenheit,” according to the Empress herself. It prevented them from being able to shift into a swarm of flies, meaning it was much harder to retreat to safety.

Ethan Winters had figured this out rather quickly. He found a small book with descriptions and photos of the experiments as they were taking place. Because of how quickly he was dashing throughout the castle in search of his daughter, Rose, all three of the Dimitrescu sisters decided it would be best to corner him so he wouldn’t be able to run anymore.

In a spare room upstairs, they managed to surround him, taunting him relentlessly as he shot at them in vain. They laughed, shoving him to the ground. The eldest daughter, Bela, stood over him, raising her sickle high above her with the intent to drive it directly into his throat with an overly-brutal force. He continued to shoot at her. She cackled darkly. “Silly man-thing. It seems you just don’t learn things quick enough. Your bullets cannot harm anyone in here.” Her sisters laughed at him with her, but before she could jab his jugular the way she had been desperate to for hours now, her attention was immediately drawn to the sound of glass shattering behind her. She whipped around to find the nearest window blown open. She gasped, turning back to Ethan and watching as smoke trailed out from the barrel of his handgun. A loud growl erupted from her throat. “You stupid man! Do you have any idea as to what you’ve just done?”

Cassandra and Daniela both ducked behind objects in the room for cover from the harsh wind now pouring into the room. Bela slashed at Ethan’s face, but she only managed to gash his arms as he blocked. He quickly kicked her hard in the leg, scrambling back onto his feet as she collapsed to the ground. She could already feel her body crystalizing, causing her movements to slow drastically. Ethan shot at her repeatedly to force her to stay in the wind. Cassandra then lunged forward from his right and swung her blade at him–though he quickly dodged and threw her down towards Bela. She cried out in pain as the icy gust began freezing her body thoroughly as well.

“You damned bastard!” Daniela shouted. She ran towards Ethan recklessly, and he countered her attack by using the grip of his gun to strike her sickle away from himself, grabbing her by the arm and twirling her around far enough to hurl her in the same spot of her older sisters. Bela managed to catch her weakly, though there was still a thud that was loud enough to cover the sound of the door opening behind Ethan.

“Enough of these games! Where’s Rose?” He aimed his pistol towards the trembling trio now practically frozen on the ground. Bela instinctively pulled her sisters into her chest, trying desperately to shield them from everything around them. “Answer me! Where the hell is my daughter?” Bela huffed as she shivered, glaring up at him through her eyelashes. Her gaze flickered behind him, a look of terror growing across her features. A loud cry rang out as a woman jumped onto Ethan and tackled him to the ground. All three of the girls recognized her–the maid they had grown so fond of. Daniela tried to crawl forward, but her eldest sister held her back. “[Y/N], no! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on them?” She wrestled against him to keep him pinned, grasping at his gun. He writhed beneath her and finally managed to shove her off of him. Before he had the chance to aim at her, however, she was already back up and running towards him. She kicked his hand as hard as she could, sending the gun flying towards the wall. Ethan glared up at her, and they both scrambled towards it. Just before he could grab hold of the barrel, a hand stomped down onto his wrist, causing him to let out a cry of pain.

[Y/N] was quick to pick up the pistol and aim it towards Ethan’s head, not hesitating as she pulled the trigger and sent a bullet through the back of his skull.

Moments passed as she panted heavily for breath, studying Ethan’s limp body in search of any signs of life. At length, her gaze shot over to the three women on the floor a few feet away. She discarded the gun, not caring where it ended up, and ran towards them to help them stand. “Come on, let’s get you three somewhere warmer.” She managed to lead them into the hallway, supporting Bela–who was struggling to prop her younger siblings up against her shoulders. “[Y/N],” she voiced softly. “There should be a fireplace two rooms down. I’m not sure if there’s any driftwood though.”

[Y/N] nodded and steadied them before walking them into the room. She sat them down a few feet in front of the hearth, glanced around the room in a panicked manner, and growled when she didn’t spot any wood. She ran to the next room, returning shortly to bundle all three of the women up with multiple blankets she had found. Not too long after, there were pillows that supported their weight as they relaxed into the small amount of warmth. “I’ll be right back,” [Y/N] assured, kneeling in front of them. “W-Where are you going?” “I need to go get the driftwood from downstairs. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

They didn’t have any time to respond, only being able to watch as she ran past them and left the room. It felt like hours had passed before she finally made it back. She tossed the wood into the fireplace and lit a match, flicking it into the pile and watching as a small flame slowly came to life. “Okay, hopefully the fire will grow in a moment. Is there anything else I can do to help you three heal?”

All three of them shared a look and a few reluctant nods. Cassandra turned to [Y/N]. “I-It won’t help us warm up, but…drinking someone’s blood would help us regain a bit of our strength.” [Y/N] stood there for a moment, surprised. She nodded and looked around. “You could use my sickle, but it’s in the other room,” Bela offered. The maid nodded and dashed out of the room once more. She returned briefly with the blonde’s weapon.

Sitting in front of the trio, [Y/N] brought the sharpest edge of the blade to her palm. She sucked in a sharp breath before digging it into her skin and dragging out a jagged line of blood. The scent of blood heightened all three Dimitrescu sisters’ senses. Their pupils expanded and they forced themselves to sit up. They took turns drinking small amounts, going from youngest to oldest. Daniela went first, then Cassandra. When it was Bela’s turn, there was hardly any blood left, visibly upsetting her.

[Y/N] sighed softly. “Don’t worry. I can always lose a bit more,” she whispered. She sliced another line on the same palm with a small hiss of pain and lifted it towards the blonde’s lips. Bela latched on immediately, grabbing ahold of the girl’s hand and pulling it closer. Moments later, when she was finished drinking, she sighed and leaned back into the pillows to rest. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “Of course.” [Y/N] stood, shakily placed the sickle on a table nearby, and went to the cabinet adjacent to the door, thankful to find a small roll of bandages. She treated her fresh, self-inflicted wounds quickly before walking to sit beside the fireplace so she could keep an eye on the three.

She sighed heavily, the adrenaline from the fight finally wearing off and causing great fatigue throughout her body. She closed her eyes. They snapped open, however, when she heard the girls whining and shuffling under the blankets. “What’s wrong?” Cassandra groaned. “It’s so cold,” she replied. [Y/N] turned to examine the size of the fire, finding that it was still rather small. “I’m not sure what I can do to help you warm up faster. I’ve grabbed almost every blanket I could find.” Daniela tried to sit up, but could only manage to partially prop herself up with her elbow. “We could really use your body heat. Why don’t you let us huddle against you?” Bela and Cassandra nodded in agreement, letting out small “yeah’s.”

Flustered, [Y/N] cleared her throat. “I’m not sure,” she voiced, “I think you three might need to warm up by the fire instead. It’ll provide more warmth than I ever could.” Bela shook her head and motioned for her to join them. “We’ll take any source of heat we can get. We’re so cold, [Y/N]. Please just let us do this.” [Y/N] sighed. She stood and weakly sauntered over to the pile of pillows and blankets, sheepishly crawling under the multiple layers and planting herself in between Bela and Cassandra. With a groan, Daniela forced herself to shift over far enough to lie on top of the [h/c] girl while her older sisters each leaned against her opposite shoulders.

Collectively, all three sisters sighed in relief at the sudden comfort the softness and warmth brought them. They pulled the blankets tighter around themselves and nuzzled as far into [Y/N]’s body as they could. “Thank you for…you know. Saving us,” Bela murmured. Her sisters hummed in agreement, both too exhausted to be vocal about their gratitude.

“Of course,” [Y/N] reassured softly. “You three mean the world to me. I could never just stand to the side and let something bad happen to any of you.” They all shared a smile. “And, of course, if I hadn’t stepped in, your mother would’ve had my head,” she added in a joking manner. “We wouldn’t have let that happen to you,” Daniela whispered almost inaudibly, chuckling. “But you wouldn’t have been here to protect me.” “Ah, we would’ve found a way. Believe us.”

They laughed softly, enjoying the silence that fell upon the room afterwards.

“What’re we going to do with the body?” [Y/N] asked. “Eat him,” Daniela said as though it were obvious. “You want to eat the body of a man who nearly ruined everything?” “Oh, definitely,” Cassandra muttered, smirking when [Y/N] giggled.

Loud, hurried footsteps reverberated down the hall, growing louder within mere seconds. The door of the room flew open, striking the cabinet beside it with a loud crack, and a familiar voice called out. “Girls?” Alcina asked anxiously. She quickly walked to stand in front of the group, sighing when she saw everyone breathing. She knelt down and placed a hand on Bela’s shoulder. “Oh, my poor dears, are you alright? One of the maids informed me of what happened.” The blonde’s eyes fluttered open and flickered over to her mother. “We’re alright, mother. He’s dead.” “Yeah,” Daniela added, prompting her mother to turn her attention to her. “[Y/N] protected us and brought us in here so we could warm up.”

Alcina’s head tilted. “Warm up?” A look of pure fury crossed her features. “You mean to tell me that repulsive, pathetic excuse of a man forced you into the cold? Oh, [Y/N], you should’ve let me handle things. I would have sliced him to ribbons the way he deserved.” “I apologize, my Lady, I just wanted to ensure he didn’t hurt them again. There was a bit of a struggle, so I sort of…ended things as quickly as I could.” The matriarch of the castle sighed and smiled. “It’s alright, my dear. You kept my daughters safe. I’ll forever be grateful for that.” They shared a look of understanding before Alcina stood. “Now, where did the poor man-thing meet his well-deserved demise?” “Two rooms over.”

“Perfect. Dinner will be very satisfying.” With that, she left the room and headed to the place of the attack. The sound of the door opening followed by something heavy being dragged all the way downstairs informed the women that their mother had the other maids prepping for dinner.

[Y/N] closed her eyes, letting herself relax and focus on her senses. She opened her eyes to look down and study the fatigued, lounged body language and expressions of the girls. She could smell the ash of the burning driftwood and feel the heat it provided. Beneath all of the covers, she could feel where each hand rested against her skin, each shaky breath taken by the girls who clung to her for warmth. Daniela had both arms tucked underneath [Y/N]’s body to ground herself steady as she rested on top of her torso, Cassandra’s were wrapped weakly around her shoulders, and Bela had one buried underneath her and the other resting on her chest.

[Y/N] could hear everyone’s breathing and the crackle of the fire. For a group that had just been attacked mere moments ago, all four women seemed to be at ease. In an attempt to further soothe them, [Y/N] brought her hands up to rub Bela and Cassandra’s lower arms. Their slightly tensed muscles softened in relief. She hugged them closely.

“I promise you–all three of you–that as long as I’m here, I will never let anything bad happen to you.”

There was no response, but she knew that they had heard her. She sighed. Her head fell back to lean against the pillows. The plush surface provided a softness that helped her body still, her eyelids drooping from fatigue. A soft rustling and the feeling of a weight being lifted from her chest, however, prompted her to look down. She found the youngest of the daughters gazing up at her. “Is something wrong?” She whispered softly at Daniela, who shook her head.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to ask you something,” she responded just as quietly. “Hm?” “Could we possibly come to you more often? I hadn’t realized just how much warmth you can provide. It’s really cozy.” [Y/N] was far too exhausted to blush or be modest. Instead, she simply smiled with a barely-noticeable nod. “Of course.” Daniela smiled back at her and returned to resting her head against the girl’s chest. Her mind settled once she could hear [Y/N]’s heartbeat.

Flames crackling and soft snores took the place of the silence in the room. [Y/N] swore in her heart she would never let them get hurt again, no matter what it took. She squeezed the women closer to herself and shut her eyes, whispering a soft reassurance more to herself than the others as she finally let herself drift into a much-needed slumber. “Everything will be okay.”

[taetaespeaches]

“I thought you were cold.”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.4K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s just a little scene in which Jungkook comes home all cold from the winter weather and finds that reader/Holly is wearing his hoodie all cozy on the couch. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

The moment Jungkook barged into your apartment, carelessly dropping his bag to the floor, he let out an exaggerated shiver. You stared at him as he shed himself of his coat, once again letting it drop to the floor. Only then did he look at you, his bambi eyes pleading with you to understand his pain.

“It’s so cold out there,” he exclaimed, his eyes only widening when you didn’t give him the response he wanted. “It started snowing.”

Glancing over your shoulder to the window, you noted the flakes dropping from the sky. “Well look at that,” you simply stated in an effort to tease the man, looking back at Jungkook. You found him on his knee as he unlaced his combat boots, peering up at you underneath his fringe with a boyish smile on his face.

“Don’t you feel bad for me?” He quizzed, an edge of flirtiness coating his tone.

“I’m sorry, am I not giving you the attention you want?” You teased, smirking at him as he kicked his second shoe off and rose to his toe sock-clad feet, a mischievous smile on his face.

“More like empathy,” he countered, eliciting a playful scoff from you.

As he stepped toward you, you snorted at his presence. He looked so good with his baggy black tee and loose black cargo pants, cool from his head to his ankles, and then… “Those socks clash with your fit,” you noted, making Jungkook pause as he looked down at his feet.

“What do you mean?” He asked in amused defense. “White goes with black.”

“It’s not the color, Jungkook, and you know that.” Raising your eyebrows at him, you barely bit back the smile that threatened to spread across your face in response to his giggle.

“One of these days you’re gonna jump on the toe sock train,” he assured you, making you roll your eyes as he moseyed closer. “They’re like gloves for your feet.”

“I thought you were cold,” you questioned, cocking your head as you carefully watched him approach the sofa.

“I am but my feet are warm,” he beamed, just before stopping right next to the couch where you remained lying across. Jungkook eyed up your frame, taking note of your leisurely outfit, lounge shorts and a hoodie. However, it wasn’t in the sexy way you liked but rather in a much more strategic manner, as though he was plotting against you.

Pulling your eyebrows together as you studied him, you realized a moment too late what he was up to as he quickly bounded atop you and trapped you under his freezing form, his arms instantly slipping beneath your top to press his icy hands to your warm tummy, the chilly material of his pants frigid against your legs. You screamed in protest, but your writhing was to no avail, the man relaxing against you with a sigh of content as he nudged his cold face against your neck.

He left kisses to your skin as you shoved at his shoulders, finally going limp beneath him as you accepted your fate with a whine in complaint. “Koo,” you mewled, his warm breath blowing against your neck in puffs in accordance with his entertained laughter. “You’re so fucking cold, you jerk!”

“I told you,” he reminded you. “Should have doted on me when you had the chance, now I’m your problem.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you found yourself giggling at his dumb antics. “You’re always my problem,” you pointed out, Jungkook lifting his face to smile at you.

He prepared to speak but stopped himself as his eyes lingered on your chest. Again, not in the sexy way but rather in the accusatory way. “Is this my hoodie?”

“No,” you instantly denied, a bald-faced lie.

Pursing his lips, his eyes met yours. “I think it is.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re a gaslighter,” he shot back, twirling one of the strings of the hoodie around his tattooed digit. The little crown between his knuckles caught your attention, as his ink so often did. You could gaze at the art forever, all of it an actualization of Jungkook’s passion and creativity.

“Am not,” you defended, your eyes bouncing back to meet his.

“And I wanted to wear this today, you’re the reason I froze out there,” he whined cutely, a small pout forming on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you tugged the string out of his grasp. “You have a closet full of hoodies.”

“So it is mine!” His eyes were so round and pretty as he watched you, anticipating your next defense.

Sighing, you internally scrambled for your words. “No,” you started, Jungkook’s cocky grin just barely making an appearance on his beautiful face. “I’m just saying even if this is yours,” you started to rant, Jungkook catching your choice of words, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Which it’s not,” you added with a smirk. “It still wouldn’t matter because you could have easily chosen a different one.”

“But I wanted this one,” he spoke, giving you that boy-like charm once more. It was unfair that he weaponized his cuteness like that.  

“It’s not yours!”

“My reality is real,” he teased, calling back to his gaslighting comment, making you giggle. The man nuzzled his head against your shoulder, his forehead resting against the side of your jaw.

“How was your day,” you whispered to him. Your fingers worked through his strands, combing his hair away from his face in a soothing repetition.  

“Good,” he muttered back, wrapping an arm around your body, allowing you to eye the colorful ink that decorated his forearm. He was so cool. So pretty. “Got some recording done,” he then added, giving you the tiniest detail from the events that filled his day. Before you could ask him more, he was directing the questioning to you.

“How was your day, baby?”

Smiling softly, you told him the same. “Good. Got home from work and haven’t moved from this spot since.”

“Good,” he giggled, lifting his face to look at you. “You know, I’ve been looking for this hoodie for two weeks, actually,” he circled back, drawing a groan in response from you.

“Oh my god, enough with the hoodie,” you told him, acting annoyed and exasperated that he would dare accuse you yet again.  

“But it’s mine,” he giggled, making you hold back your own laugh of amusement.  

“Jungkook, if you want this hoodie you’re gonna have to pry it off my body,” you ordered him, immediately realizing you misspoke. A smile overtook your features as you tried to stop him before he could respond. “Wait, wait-”

“You- wait- is-” he stuttered, making you stall your own backtracking, too amused and endeared by him. Then a beam spread across his face. “You know I’m happy to do that,” he finally got out, a flirty smirk replacing the adorable smile.

“Do not,” you lightheartedly and unseriously warned.

“Are you flirting with me, Holly?” He had lowered his tone to sound more sexy, and you hated how easy it was for him to appear that way. Damn him.

“No,” you said shortly, trying to bite back your growing grin but failing as you beamed up at him.

“Was this your plan all along?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle he triggered with his playful comments, that is, until he winked. Rolling your eyes and shoving at his bicep to try to push him off of you all while you wore a smile, the man giggled adorably, only moving his arms to cage your head between his body and the couch cushion below you. Before either of you could say anything, he slowly lowered his face toward yours, his eyes bouncing from yours to your lips. He placed one kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, but one that didn’t last near long enough for either of you. He pulled away, teasingly, trying to trigger you into taking control or at least some kind of action.

“You know what?” You smirked at him, Jungkook letting a lazy smile spread across his mouth in response.

“What?”

“It’s very bold of you to think I need a plan to get you to remove my clothing as though you’re not so obsessed with m-”

Jungkook, giggling cutely, cut you off by pressing his lips to yours once again, meeting you in a messy kiss full of smiles and laughter. You easily fell into it, into Jungkook, smiling and laughing along with him as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You kissed him for as long as you could, until the giggles and grins stopped, until you were breathless, and until the hoodie was finally removed from your body and discarded on the floor, far away from Jungkook’s attention.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part sixty-nine: "The Lunch Date Delay"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Saturday afternoon and Matt invites you out for lunch.

Or You're certainly craving something, but it won't be found on a menu.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: Another smupdate installment! This one features what I like to call Whiney Mess Murdock. Because Reader turns him into quite the whiney mess here. You can find the list of all the installments for this series on tumblr here. And if you're enjoying the series, feedback is always appreciated!

Setting your brush back onto the bathroom counter, you made your way towards your front door as soon as you heard the sound of the knocks. It was Saturday afternoon and Amber had stopped by a couple of hours ago to pick up Hudson. Shortly after, Matt had called wondering if you’d be free to grab lunch since he hadn’t exactly gotten to see you last night as himself. You’d eagerly accepted the invitation and had been waiting for him to arrive so the two of you could walk from your apartment to the café you were planning to have lunch at. 

Though after last night, you still had something else on your mind before you went for that lunch date.

You weren’t entirely sure what it was, but seeing Matt step into that sort of paternal role last night with Hudson had somehow fanned the fire on your desire for Matt. And while you’d eventually let it go last night after he’d popped back out of your window shortly after enjoying brownies with you and Hudson, that desire had come right back not long after he’d called you this morning. For some reason you had a strong urge to undo the zipper of his pants and take him into your mouth while he sat helpless on your couch. It was a mental visual that wouldn’t seem to leave your mind no matter what you did, and even though you were a bit nervous about abruptly initiating something like that with Matt out of the blue, especially so soon after bringing sex back into the relationship, you were determined to at least try and see what happened.

Because Matt was always a giver–in and out of the bedroom. He rarely ever let you do much for him without trying to immediately reciprocate no matter how much you told him it wasn’t needed. But in the bedroom, it was often hard to hold strong on the front of not receiving anything in return when he had the unfair advantage of knowing exactly how to work you right back up. But fuck if you weren’t determined right now as he unknowingly waited for you just outside of your apartment door. 

Though he probably wasn’t entirely unknowing, you thought as you opened the front door and invited him in. As he followed you into your apartment, his dark lenses covering his eyes and hiding part of his face, you figured he could read your body. He probably knew how worked up you were right now. And you had noticed the way one of his brows rose curiously up onto his forehead at you when you’d answered the door.

“Are you…ready for lunch then, sweetheart?” Matt asked, head canting to the side as he stopped beside your couch.

You stared back at him, eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him standing there in his winter coat and nice jeans that fit his legs so well. He began shifting back and forth on his feet in your silence, his hands gripping his cane between both fists. He had to know you were turned on before he’d stepped inside–what was going through his mind?

“No,” you answered softly.

Matt cleared his throat, his focus darting down to your body for a moment. “Are you still getting ready? I can wait if you–”

“Take your coat off, Matt,” you ordered, abruptly cutting him off.

Your sudden demand had taken you as much by surprise as it had Matt. His mouth remained open, gaping at what you’d just said. You also stood there in turn not entirely sure what had possessed you to say that, but you sure as hell had meant it. Though that didn’t stop the flush slowly creeping its way up your neck. Recovering a few seconds later, Matt’s mouth closed and you saw his lips drawing into a cocky smile.

“Sweetheart, do you need me to get you off before lunch?” he asked, his tone almost teasing. “Is that what this is? Because I could tell you were already turned on as I was coming up here, but I figured it could wait until after lunch. I wasn’t going to say anything, but…do you want me to give you some help? Is that what's going on here?”

He stood there with a self-satisfied smirk on his face that somehow only further made you want to wipe it off of his mouth. He thought you were desperate for him to help get you off, but no, that wasn’t it at all. No, you were desperate to watch him fall apart on your couch. There was something absolutely ravenous that had awoken in you after last night and you knew you just wouldn’t be able to leave for lunch if you didn’t satiate that hunger first.

“No, Matty,” you answered, moderately emboldened by the fact that he wasn’t turning you away. “I said I want you to take your coat off.”

There was a moment where Matt hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he was understanding you right, before he gradually reached out and rested his cane along the side of your couch. You watched quietly as he did before he wordlessly began unbuttoning his jacket. Slipping it off of himself, he slung it over the arm of your couch nearby. And then he focused back on you, clearly waiting for you to tell him what to do next. It had been so long since you felt the thrill of this power over him. You couldn’t deny that it was only further fueling your need.

“The glasses, too, Matty,” you said, holding out an upturned palm.

He slipped them off of his face, folding them up and placing them into your hand. You twisted at the waist and set them down on your coffee table, and then you turned back towards him, nervously gnawing your bottom lip as you took in the sight of him standing before you in his nice jeans and a dark gray long sleeve shirt that was pulling just a bit at the width of his muscular chest. His eyes were fixed on your own chest, most likely focusing into whatever your body was telling him as he so often enjoyed doing. Encouraged by his compliance, you crossed the space towards him, his head tracking the few steps you took as you did. Both of your hands landed on his chest when you came to a stop, Matt’s muscles tensing under your fingers at the feel of your touch.  

“I don’t want your help, baby,” you told him, enjoying the trembling exhale that came out of him at your words. “I want to thank you for last night,” you continued, trailing your hands slowly down the front of him. Tongue sliding along your lips, you enjoyed the solid feel of him beneath your fingers. “Being so kind as to stay and bake brownies with my nephew while you wore that uncomfortable suit the whole time. That was really sweet of you, baby.”

Matt blew out a sharp breath, a faint huff of amusement following after. “If I’d known you’d be this grateful, I’d have swung by more often when he was over,” he joked, though you caught the strain in his voice.

Your hands paused their descent just at the waistband of his jeans, your eyes focused on Matt’s. His were lingering along your left cheekbone now, an obvious excitement reflected back at you in them. You knew in that moment he wasn’t going to turn you away, and that was all you needed to shove away the last bit of your nerves.

“Sit down, Matt,” you ordered.

“Sweetie, you know you don’t have to do this, right?” he asked, his hands rising up and gently landing on your hips. “That’s not why I stayed over last night.”

“Do you not want me to take care of you?” you questioned back.

“I just want you to know you don’t have to,” he repeated.

“That’s not what I asked,” you replied.

He exhaled a deep breath, his shoulders dropping with the gesture. He nodded at you as he said, “Yes, I do. But–”

“Uh uh, no buts,” you said, cutting him off as you tapped a finger along the top of his jeans.

A cocky smile slipped back onto his face at your words. “Except you like my butt,” he teased.

That cocky smile quickly fell off of his face when your hands dropped down, unbuckling the belt around his waist. The clink of the metal had you salivating already–you really wanted this. 

“I told you,” you began, popping his button through his jeans, “to sit down, Matt.” Your right hand grabbed onto the zipper next, carefully sliding it down. “I don’t want to say it again.”

He inhaled sharply, his throat visibly bobbing as he stared silently back at you for a long moment, as if you undoing his jeans had suddenly shown him how serious you were. And then he turned, making his way past you to your couch. You smiled when you heard him mutter a curse under his breath as you followed behind. 

Matt settled onto your sofa, his legs spread wide as they often were when he sat. You leaned forward, your fingers curling along the waistband of his jeans. You began tugging them down, Matt’s hands helping as he shifted on the couch in the process. You left them at his ankles before you focused on his black boxers, satisfied when you already saw a bulge straining against the material.

“These are in the way, too,” you muttered.

Grabbing the fabric and pulling them down, you heard the soft sigh Matt released as his gradually hardening cock sprang forth. A pleased hum left you at the sight before you pulled the boxers down his thick thighs and to his ankles. His cock free, you finally lowered to your knees before Matt, your hands pushing his legs apart so you could make room for yourself between them. 

Both of your hands remained on his knees as you got comfortable on the floor, your eyes making their way up his body towards his face. He was gazing hungrily back down at you, his chest noticeably heaving already. Slowly you ran your fingers up the length of his thighs, your nails lightly scratching along his skin as you did. Matt's hips jolted a few times at the drag of them over his muscles, a faint gasp leaving his mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart," he groaned as your hands stopped on his hips. "I've missed this side of you."

"Have you?" you asked, fingers tracing his hip bones.

He nodded quickly, his brows gently drawing together as he continued to gaze down at you. Leaning forward, you placed a kiss on the inside of his left thigh, your eyes catching sight of the way the muscle twitched immediately after. 

"How much did you miss it?" you whispered against his skin.

"I've thought about it a few times after–after we worked through things," he admitted, his voice a bit ragged. "And a few times when I– ahhh –" he briefly broke off as you slid your tongue up the inside of his thigh, "–when I missed you." 

"And what'd you do about it?" you asked against his skin. 

A long, drawn out quivering exhale came from above you, the sound catching your attention. Your eyes rose up to Matt's face, taking in his own half-lidded expression as you gently kissed higher up his thigh. He blew out a sharp breath before he finally answered. 

"I jerked off," he confessed, swallowing hard. "To–to the memory of those times you'd let go with me. Times you took control.”

Head shifting to the side, you placed a kiss to the inside of his right thigh. Your hands gripped his hips tighter at his admission. You quite enjoyed that bit of knowledge. “Touching yourself while thinking about me, baby?” you murmured.

Entirely fueled by your desire, everything else in your brain shut off as your tongue darted up the inside of his right thigh. A rumbling moan reverberated in Matt’s chest in response. 

“Not as–as good as having you,” he breathed out, voice pitched a little higher.

Right hand gliding down from his hips, your fingers paused just at the base of his cock, your fingertips stroking his skin beneath the thick, dark hair there. The faintest whine fell out of him and your eyes once again made their way up towards his face. His own eyes had closed, his head tilted a bit back with his lips parted open. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered. “Your body is so loud and it’s driving me crazy. Please , sweetheart,” he begged. 

Your lips slowly curled into a smile as you continued to gaze up at him. Just the tips of your fingers very lightly gripped around the base of his cock and Matt hissed out a sharp breath between his teeth at the faint touch. 

“Please what, baby?” you asked. 

“Touch me,” he pleaded. “Put your mouth on me." A high-pitched whine slipped out of him, his hips squirming on the cushions. " Fuck . I–I miss your mouth, sweetheart.”

His words only further had that need burning in your gut, that thrill of watching him no longer cocky and smug because of you only causing your pulse to quicken. You wanted to lunge forward and devour him here and now, to take his beautiful, stiff cock right into your mouth and ravage him–but you didn’t. Something about Matt beginning to whine on the couch as he begged you to touch him was certainly doing things to you. And you wanted to try to hold back as long as you could to drag that out.

Hand curling around the width of him, you slowly stroked his hard cock, reveling in the feel of it inside your fist. Your eyes were focused on the appendage before you, your own breathing increasing in anticipation of tasting him again. It would only be the second time in this past week since sex had returned to the relationship that you’d given him oral–mostly because Matt often tried to steer things towards sex as opposed to being the sole receiver of pleasure. Which is what he’d done all week. But now? Now you were determined to make him sit back and enjoy himself.

“Fuck, oh shit ,” he whined, throwing his head back on the couch. “ Oh , sweet girl, I missed you so fucking much.”

You hummed out a pleased noise in response, your thumb slipping over the tip of him and enjoying the way his hips bucked upwards on the sofa ever so slightly. Drawing yourself closer, your lips parted as you intentionally blew your hot breath across him, your hand still languidly stroking the length of him. Matt’s head fell further back onto the backrest of the couch, a groan rolling out of him as his mouth went slack. Beneath your hand, you felt his firm cock throbbing; the little noises falling out of him above you were letting you know he had reached that point where he was quite sensitive now. 

“Please, sweetheart,” Matt pleaded almost breathlessly. “Let me feel your beautiful mouth again.”

Eyes focusing up towards his face, you saw the deep crease between his dark brows. He whimpered as your hand continued to work him, the noise faint and full of need, your mouth only an inch from the head of his cock. You huffed out an amused breath, the exhale falling over him again as you did–a breathy, needy cry fell out of his mouth as his head tipped even further back.

“Not looking so smug right now, Matty,” you lightly teased.

“ Sweet-heart ,” he gasped, drawing the endearment out. “ Please .” His adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed hard. “Don’t–don’t tease me anymore. Can’t–can’t take it,” he said, shaking his head quickly.

Not wanting to push him any further, you finally drew your mouth towards him, lightly swiping your tongue along that sensitive place just beneath the tip of his cock. Matt’s hand abruptly dropped down onto the armrest beside you, his fingers digging into the fabric of your couch as a curse fell out of his mouth. Knowing just how sensitive he was right now, you slipped the head of him into your mouth, tongue lovingly stroking him immediately. You could taste that first salty dribble of pre-cum on your tongue as you did.

“ Shit ,” he swore, voice quivering. “S-so good , sweetie.”

You hummed in satisfaction, drawing him further into your mouth and cradling the length of him on your tongue. Your right hand was working the bit of him you just couldn’t ever quite seem to take but were someday determined to. 

“ Fuck–yes–sweetheart ,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

The sounds he was soon making above you on the couch were causing a dampness to form between your thighs as you kneeled before him, sucking his cock like you were starved for it–which is exactly how you’d felt since last night. You couldn’t help the ache of your cunt in response to the loud, panting breaths he was making, especially when they started to become sharper and laced with his desperate whines. He’d never sounded so gone before.

Briefly you drew back, taking a moment to catch your breath as your hand worked the length of him coated in your saliva. His hips thrust up into your fist and you couldn’t fight the grin that slipped on your face in response. He looked so goddamn good like this. Eager to see what other wonderful noises he’d make, you sucked just the head of him into your mouth, reveling in the throaty groan above you.

“ Ahhh! ” he cried out. “Mouth feels so fucking good, sweet girl.”

You slid down the length of him before his left hand abruptly flew forward, gently cradling the side of your face as you continued to take him in your mouth. You looked up at him through your lashes, his fingers tenderly stroking your cheek. Matt was leaning forward on the couch, his shoulders heaving as his pinched gaze landed almost along your own. You could see the flush of his face, his cheeks tinged pink. 

“So good to me,” he breathed out. “Don’t–don’t deserve you.”

The nails of your left hand bit into his thigh just a bit in protest, Matt hissing through his teeth as you let out something like a growl along his cock. He almost laughed at your disapproval but the sound broke quickly into a moan as you increased your pace. His hand slid back into your hair, gripping a fistful as carefully as he could–you could feel the restraint with which he was holding you by the way his hand was trembling against your head. A moan flew up out of your throat in response, vibrating around his cock. Matt grit his teeth again, noticeably fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth with the way he began shifting and shaking along the couch.

“Oh, God , yes–sweet girl–” he broke off on another moan, your fervor to finish him off fueling you forward. “Ju-just like that, ” he grit out. “ Don’t–fucking–stop–please.”  

You could tell he was right at the edge with the way he’d said ‘please,’ his voice breaking on the word. His hips were quaking beneath you but your focus was on his thick, pulsing cock in your mouth. Ignoring the ache in your jaw, you continued to breathe through your nose and push forward just enough to finally finish him off. His hand tightened its hold in your hair, a loud string of curses leaving his mouth that were separated by the word ‘God’ as if it had become a verbal comma.

“ Fuck , I–I’m going to cum,” he whimpered. 

Half a second after his words, you felt the warm, thick release of him in your mouth as Matt loosed a deep, rumbling moan through your apartment. Eagerly your tongue stroked him through his climax, the familiar salty taste of him in conjunction with the pleasure-filled noises he was still softly making causing your eyes to close. Greedily you swallowed every bit of that warm release of his down, only finally pulling him out of your mouth when you heard the sounds of his overstimulation as he began to soften along your tongue. 

Matt collapsed back onto your sofa and you couldn’t fight the smile spreading along your saliva-coated lips at the sight. There was a slight sheen of sweat that had formed along his forehead, his face still flushed as he tried to catch his breath. You leaned over and kissed the top of his left thigh, smiling wider against his skin as a tired, contented hum fell out of him in response to your kiss.

Rising back to your feet, you crossed the room to your kitchen counter nearby and grabbed a handful of tissues. As you walked back towards him, Matt held out an upturned palm to you, a lazy smile on his mouth and a blissed out look on his face as he accepted the tissues.

“Might want to clean yourself up, Matty,” you said coyly. “We’re late for lunch now.”

He chuckled lightly, leaning forward on the couch and grabbing the clothes that had bunched around his ankles. Gradually he pulled them up, rising carefully to his feet as he left his jeans undone so he could wash up further in the bathroom.

“Sweetheart,” Matt said, head shifting towards you as that damn self-satisfied smirk returned to his mouth, “are you even going to be hungry for lunch after the way you just took my cock?”

Heat creeping its way onto your cheeks at his bluntness, you rolled your eyes. “Stop it or I’ll wipe that smug look off your face again,” you threatened.

“Mmm, please do,” Matt whispered, making his way towards you. 

His right hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up towards his. Slowly he leaned forward, placing a lingering, sweet kiss to your lips. He was grinning when he pulled away.

“That was incredibly hot, sweetheart,” he told you. “And now I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of–especially after lunch.”

“Matt,” you chastised. “This isn’t a quid pro quo thing.”

The corner of his lip quirked even higher. “No,” he agreed. “It’s a ‘my girlfriend is incredibly sexy’ thing.”

You snorted out a laugh instantly, a hand flying over your mouth as your other hand waved him towards the bathroom. “Go clean yourself up, sweet talker,” you told him.

His eyes crinkled further at the corners before he shot you a wink. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered before turning and sauntering towards your bathroom.

Like hell if that man didn’t always know what he was doing.

[imaginedreamwrite]

It's a rainy Sunday and the reader is making homemade bread, chili, pumpkin bars and apple crisp. The fireplace is on and soft music is playing and sleepy lil pups are being snuggled. Any pairing of your choosing 😀.

The wood set in the stone built fireplace crackled and popped as the heat ate at the wood, producing warmth that radiated throughout the cabin. It was the tender warmth that had contrasted to the chilly weather outside, the fall that bled into early winter was here and had arrived swiftly.

You had often found yourself looking out the window to the mix of snow and rain, watching the precipitation fall against the window. Your hands had been busy kneading the dough set against flour on the counter while your slow cooking stew bubbles in the pot.

The morning had been languid and slow, tender in your home surrounded by woods and nature. It was your perfect home, your dream life unfolding before your eyes in a breathtaking whirlwind. You couldn’t begin to imagine anything other than how you were living now, safely nestled and safely tucked into the perfect home Ari had made for you.

Ari, your great love, was snuggling your pup on the couch. Your beautiful pup nestled in a tight little bundle pressed against his broad and warm chest.

“It smells good, honeybee.” Ari crooned at you, looking over your shoulder before he rose to his feet, languidly walking across the living room to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Ari.” You preened under the compliment and flipped the dough over, pressing your knuckles into the pale dough to expel the air.

“Mama’s such a good cook.” Ari gently rocked your pup while he gazed down at them with absolute love and devotion, his fingers stroking their cheeks softly.

“Everything is almost ready, I hope you don’t mind…?” You hesitated as a knock sounded at the door, two guests you’d been hoping would show had arrived.

“Bucky and his hellion-“

“Ari!” You scolded him, gently smacking his shoulder in passing.

“-Bucky’s words not mine-“ Ari defended himself with a low chuckle. “-are always welcome here.”

“Hi!” You greeted his mate brightly when the door opened, hugging her as tightly as she had hugged you. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too!” She greeted you warmly, and then cast her attention upon your baby. “There they are! Look how big they’re getting!”

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbled to you after his mate gathered before your pup, “she’s been driving me crazy. Snooping around the cottage like she’s looking for something that she’s not supposed to.”

“So the ring fit?” You closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, and now she’s determined to find it. Hellion. Foxy little hellion.” Bucky shook his head, exhausted by the efforts to keep her out of trouble.

“Come on, take a load off. She’ll be busy with our pup.”

“Thank. God.”

[wonderinc-sonic]

On this Day

<3k words Knuckles Drabble. Also on Ao3. Gen/ No warnings.

Knuckles woke up as the sun first crested the horizon to the East, earlier than it would have done had the island stayed still on the ground. The weak light refracted in his Emerald, bouncing green and gold within and without it's cool surface, onto the stone shrine surrounding it and the face of the echidna curled up beside it. He opened his eyes against the glare, and looked at his island through the emerald before him, bathing everything in a mystic glassy green. The day would start, because he was awake, and there was nobody else to decide what a day was.

He climbed up next to the waterfall, rinsing himself in it's icy spray, to where he grew crops. This was the best spot to be, as it was higher than - and therefore viewing over - the Master Emerald. Here, he harvested from vines, bushes and the earth while the sun wasn't too oppressive, carefully sorting what was good to eat, what he would eat, and what was only worthy of being cooked or preserved. Somecritter had bitten half the lowslung figs, which he pulled from the plant and pressed into the earth, for whoever might burrow and turn them into soil without resentment: he had more than enough to share these.

He snacked as he worked until it became too hot to tolerate. His island was closer to the sun, and as such could burn powerfully when it's course crossed the equator, so he retreated to the cool caves to finish his work and breakfast.

He replaced the Best Fruit in the bowl with today's harvest, and ate the slightly turned previous contents. He had learned from his friend that you should always have your best food, and your finest 'china and silver', clean and prepared for any unexpected guests: without 'china', or anything to eat with, he still honoured the wisdom with his most carefully whittled bowl, filled with the freshest, nicest food - even more fine than what was saved for the Chao. Sure: he almost never had visitors; when he did it was end of the world; and, even when it wasn't he'd never actually managed to give them his welcome manners. Neverminding all that, hospitality was fostered in this cave of saved food: a day would finally come when it would be given, he hoped. Amy would be proud.

He crossed through the mountain carefully in the caves and chambers that once held magma, before the earth of the floating island rose and split from it's roots. He carried a full basket of fruit, covered with weaved grass-cloth, and trecked over the tricky track. One part had grown thinner in the night, and he leapt over it, allowing the draft to catch in his quills and buoy him up and over. The caverns dripped and creaked in amusement as they glinted at him, with mushrooms springing in the earth to try to tempt him back over the treacherous paths.

Knuckles emerged in the Chao garden, and found that the herd had roved more than he had expected. Chao retained their sense of seasons more than Knuckles did. He supposed if one Chao forgot if it was 'water' season or 'sleepy' season, another might remind them, so they kept better track without the natural variation of earth. But Knuckles didn't speak Chao, or need to vary his seasons as far as he knew; he couldn't afford a season for hibernating, anyway. Hibernation seemed a terrible idea: none of his friends on the ground could afford it, anyway, considering their commitments to countering Eggman didn't acknowledge winter. In fact, they bothered him more in their cold seasons, as it was always somewhat warmer on Angel Island's sunny plains.

Knuckles fed the Chao with fruit for their breakfast, and watched them carefully. He gently lifted the feet of an elderly Chao, and placed it on his lap to check.

This one he had raised over four years ago, he counted as he inspected it's thin fur. It had been in it's infancy when Sonic first invaded his home, and since then he was told it had been four years. He didn't need to count, however, to know it would pass soon. This Chao had weathered storms, and accepted many newcomers, born and brought from other gardens that were rendered unlivable. It had born it's own children. It had watched them grow, and some passed even before they reached maturity, but it had carried on. This Chao was one of the last ones that hadn't been named, as he hadn't known he was expected to give them a title before he met his friends. He remembered when first Cream and her Chao visited, and asked the name of every one, newly horrified each time he told her that no, he hadn't named this Chao, either. She named them that day, of course, after the contents of a bakery and some characters from a book, but he couldn't remember those words, as they didn't mean anything to him.

He never needed names when he was alone, or words. He recognised each Chao by the cut and crease of it's face, and that had always been enough. They didn't name him either, as far as he knew. That was just the way of animals; you either knew someone, or you didn't. But now, as he held the creature, and it held him back with dim and milky eyes, he supposed a name might help when your sight left you. But what, then, if it was the ears that betrayed?

Knuckles thought about names as he cleaned the Chao garden of discarded food and waste, and left them to doze in the sun. He checked on the eggs, carefully carried by their parents, and felt them for movement. He knew these already by their shell patterns, and the imperfection in the way they were formed. But he was informed that now was not when they were named: you named a creature when you met it. He would name them after the plants around them when they emerged, the colours of their cheeks, the way they moved.

Knuckles was named when he met himself. He had learned to read the ancient language of the stone shrine by making sounds with his mouth like thr shapes of the carving. And when he'd found the sounds, he had to find the meaning based on the pictures. It was inexact, but he had years to learn and makeup the meaning in the gaps. He tried to make the sounds for Guardian, but only understood what the name meant when he gave it to Sonic to use for him. Sonic had bumped the gloves he made, modeled after the murals he'd seen of claws on padded fists.

"Yeah, makes sense, Knuckle-dusters." He'd explained, and he signed to the joints of the fingers as he spoke, but he didn't know he was explaining. Knuckles tried not to let him know.

Back through the caverns, he braved the walls to climb and harvest mushrooms, and was rewarded with a heavy pelting of loose rocks and earth as he did so. He never took more than the fungus could regrow, but that didn't stop the insects that lived there from crawling onto him to bite him in defence. He bit them back, eating a bitter spider off his arm as it tried to flee into his quills, and hopped from the cave wall as it creaked. He supposed there was probably a way to cultivate mushrooms like plants, so he didn't have to hang from the wall and risk a rockfall, but he had few preserving caves to spare to experiment. When next there was an earthquake, he hoped it would provide more of the shallow inlets he used for shelter and storing, but he didn't have a say in that.

It was warm, far too warm, when he exited the cave system, and he supposed it had to be the hottest part of the day. The altar was the most exposed part of the Island by far, so he sheltered in the trees near to it, dipping into the stream and watching the emerald glint. The trees shook with breeze, telling him which way his island was orbitting, and he let his eyes close.

Knuckles woke again in a panic, as he heard the sound of an engine roaring, and ran to the Master Emerald. It was unharmed, so he stood atop it and took in the surroundings, shoulders braced and teeth bared.

Overhead, a plane flew too close, clearly not having factored Angel Island into it's trajectory, and veering too sharply. It grew closer, and closer, and the rush of air from it's wings whipped the trees. He held the emerald and willed it to listen, and Angel Island glowed from the ground, as it dipped lower to avoid the plane.

It passed overhead far too close, roaring like a beast in his ear, and nearly picking up trees in it's drag, but Knuckles pressed his palms firmer into the Emerald, and it in turn held tight to everything he held dear. The plane finally grew dimmer and quieter, and he raised Angel Island back to it's correct height from the ground.

Knuckles heart beat in his chest. The sight of planes, the smell of fuel and the sound of combustion; it was his nightmare come to life, and it was becoming all too familiar. He surveyed the plane as it flew away, and recited in his head what his friend had taught him.

Enormous and white, shaped like albatrosses and lined with shiny dots? This was a passenger plane. That was regular people, going on holidays. That wasn't a threat, and he didn't need to alarm. The same for the white but dotless planes, that were thicker sometimes: those carried items people wanted. Those weren't to be worried about. Those were the kinds he saw more and more of: big and unwieldy, occasionally failing to dodge him because their path couldn't be changed quickly. They wouldn't hurt him if they didn't hit him.

The ones that thumped, with blades that span like sycamore seeds, were Helico Pters: they were never so big and could avoid him. Most often, they were explorers or medics who had blown off course. Once, they'd even been so bold as to land on his island in an emergency to escape a storm. He had exercised all his good graces to not turf them off for ruining his meadow, especially when it transpired that they were G.U.N. agents. They claimed to be after a different target, but he suspected they were watching him: he had seen their infernal black dragonfly grinding overhead for weeks, but after their crash landing he didn't see them again for awhile. Sometimes they 'happened' to spin around his island again, usually struggling at the altitude and dropping back down again.

The little jet planes, like swallows and swifts, liked to do tricks in the clouds and left the air tasting terrible. He avoided them too, and they mostly avoided him, except for the fancy black ones that he was told were just joyriders, who sometimes circled his mountain. Their black planes, he umderstood, were inefficient for heat and their wings designed for intimidation not function. He had learned he couldn't dodge them too obviously, or they'd chase him more. He would dearly like to shoot them down and leave them to the vultures, but he had set a precedent with one G.U.N. aircraft, and he supposed it wouldn't be fair to choose favourites among such a terrible bunch.

But his favourite of course was the tornado, and Tails' other machinery. He had learned to land on the brownfield. His planes were all stamped with his branding on, promising Knuckles he was safe. He had the quietest engine, and it got quieter every year, barely smelling of the sickly gas that came with technology. It still set Knuckles into a panic, but at least he came to expect it when it had been awhile. And after Tails went to all the effort to make his plane amenable and aircrafts understandable to Knuckles, he always put on a brave face when they visited now. It was worth swallowing his fear to see how proud it made his friend.

And of course anything else, that was suspicion worthy of panic. Eggman usually had the poor sense to announce himself, but the bat and lesser thieves didn't. They could arrive by drone carriers and parachutes at any time to harry him, and they were the quietest of all. Except, perhaps, that bastard rogue ship - they couldn't bear subtlety. How they thought they were in league to steal his emerald was beyond him, but they would spin by occasionally when they'd suffered a tragic defeat to try and ruin his day too. Tails had offered to install a cannon to attack them back, but they all agreed that would probably be too fun for his opponents.

Knuckles had paced most of the surface of the island at top speed while he thought about the unholy world of aircrafts and all their crimes. Nothing major had been disturbed, but the animals of the land hated the noise as much as he did, so they had all scattered for shelter. Any chance of a hunt for dinner was scuppered.

So Knuckles fished in the river as he tried to calm himself, eyed trained on the Emerald, then set the catch to smoke slowly over the fire as the sky began to paint itself moody orange.

He went to pick wild leaves to munch, but instead became distracted beheading and uprooting weeds. Dandelions had never been on his island before Sonic came. Sonic insisted they travelled on the wind, but Knuckles suspected he carried them in his fur, and now the weed threatened his natural grasses. Wherever he found the delicate whispy heads he burned them, but they cropped up cheerfully despite his best efforts, sometimes even in the ashes of the fire, like a defiant phoenix: that was when he knew they were from Sonic. So he had taken to eating them, as they could be turned to tea or the leaves cooked and added to stock. If they would stick in his home from now, and arrive on the 'wind' whenever he came by, he supposed he had to be comfortable with their hardy optimism. Perhaps he could even make that suit him; he might have grown to like their flavour and sunny colour, but it didn't excuse their invasion of the native plants.

His basket was full of sunny dandelions when he decided his dinner had to be ready now. The sun had set on the ground, but was still visible from the edge of Angel Island, making long shadows that spread the cold. He sat by his fire at the base of the shrine, and watched the flames dance from afar in the Master Emerald's greenish glow, just like every night in paradise. The glittering reflections within the gem's surface seemed to dance to, and he imagined that it must have shone with joy when there were hundreds of Knuckles to light fires with their closest loved ones, and play music into the night until only the owls could keep up the tune.

Knuckles stamped out his fire, and climbed the steps. He whistled low into the dark, and the dark echoed back. His whistle crept up the scale until it reached the resonant frequency of the arches of the shrine, and he enjoyed how they bounced back at him. He whittered the tune once more, before the owls took over for him, as he imagined they always had.

Knuckles curled up at the base of a pillar next to the Master Emerald, as he did every night. Sleep found him listening to the breeze and the life of the twilight, and in the greenish glow he dreamed a strange dream:

He was in a tight and soft entrapment, that had crumpled his short legs so long, they were sore. He hadn't felt it before, but he was craving air more than he knew he could crave anything. His claws were soft and pliant, but the tooth he had was sharp, and he pressed his mouth to the wall and pierced it with several ungainly chomps.

From the hole he tasted cool and fresh, contrasting with the warm and stale he hadn't known he was in until he realised he could be out. His tiny finger found the hole and he pulled at it, until he could squeeze his head through the tear, and wriggle his body.

Brilliant green welcomed him to the world, and bathed him in wonder. As he adjusted to the light, he blinked with unformed eyes at the blurry world around him, but the only thing that held familiarity in the dark of evening was the green.

His great escape had tired him, and his belly ached for something. He gnawed where his tooth had been, on the leathery shell that held him until now. Then, once he was full, he curled up with his back to a cool stone, and gazed at the emerald as his eyelids drooped.

Knuckles didn't remember that day, or that dream, or that on this very day on earth, it had been seventeen years since he pipped his shell, and looked at his life reflected in the green. Without cry or question, he shouldered the Emerald that day, with no need to wonder what else there was in the world to see. It would stay on his shoulders, because that was how things were, until the day it crushed him into the ground to sleep again.

[the-magnus-institute]

Pinch - Statement 20141210

Statement of Abby-Lynn Grace regarding her experiences with an anomalous mirror. Statement recorded by the Usher Foundation, directly from subject, October 12th, 2014. Statement transcribed on 24th of March, 2019.

---

[Statement Begins.]

My mama’s always called me a bit vain. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve liked to look at myself— in spoons, in windows, in the bathroom mirror. My brothers used to tell me to get out of the shower when we were school-age. I’d just turn the water on and let it run and run while I sat on the counter and preened.

It wasn’t always self-indulgent. Sometimes it was like a– a compulsion, I think Frankie called it. That’s my husband, Frankie. He’s always been real good about keeping my head on right, God bless him. He’d come in sometimes, find me cryin’ in front of it. If you look at yourself long enough in the mirror, things start to warp, look all out of sorts. Your face stops lookin’ like a face and starts lookin’ like a problem.

This all started a few months back. That’s why I’m here. Frankie’s been worried, says I haven’t seemed myself lately. To be honest, I haven’t felt it, either. I think… Now, this sounds silly, but I know you all hear all manner of silly things, so I’ll come on out and say it. I think it’s the mirror’s fault. No– I know it is. I know it’s that mirror’s fault.

Me and Frankie got married in April– you see this ring? He bought it himself, I told him not to get one this big, but he insisted. I’ll get him somethin’ real nice soon, make him treat himself. Anyhow, we moved into my granddaddy’s old place. It’s small, but it’s real nice, especially in the evenings. All the lightning bugs and the crickets come out, you can sit on the porch swing and listen to the whipporwill. We had fun paintin’ all the walls bright colors, plantin’ trees out front, diggin up Granddaddy’s old garden beds. We even cleared out his old attic, made it into a nice guest room, just in case, you know. It gets awful hot up there, we’ll have to keep company strictly to the fall and winter [laughter].

But, ah. The attic is where I found it.

It’s this big ol’ mirror. Taller than I am, wider than I am, too, though I’ll outgrow it soon enough if June Harris keeps makin’ lemon bars for the church potlucks. It’s got this pretty gold border, all swirls and roses. Frankie said it was gaudy, but Frankie gets the basement for his model trains, so I got the mirror in our closet. I keep thinkin’ about what might have happened, if I’d just taken it to the Goodwill, left it on the street, smashed it to bits and buried it.

But I didn’t. I used it to get my face beat in the mornings– before church, before my shift at the Piggly Wiggly, takin’ all my makeup off at night before bed. Sometimes, I’d see somethin’ out of the corner of my eye in the mirror, but my imagination’s always run a bit wild, and so do the cats, so I didn’t think anything of it.

It hung there for weeks, until they turned into months. I noticed– well, no, that’s not quite right. It was Frankie who noticed. He told me I was lookin’ in the mirror too much, that he was worried I was havin’ one of my moments. That’s what we call them– my moments. When I look at myself too much, and it makes me miss church and meals. I’ve got help for them, so I told him he was bein’ overprotective, and that I was fine.

But then I started noticing, too. I’d be talkin’ on the phone– you know how people walk around when they use the phone?-- and I’d end up smack in front of that mirror again. It’s not like it’s easy to get to, either, it’s in a closet I get to through the master bathroom. Two doors, and I’d breeze by both of them like they were nothing. 

I’d clean, and there I’d be, wipin’ down the mirror like it wasn’t already shining. Sitting in front of it after I was done beatin’ my face up pretty, just staring. If I stared for long enough, it felt like I would fall right through.

I started doing odd things. I’d eat in front of it, when Frankie was out of the house, then when he was in the house. He noticed– I told him to mind his own. I’ve been awful to Frankie, he’s been onto this thing since the beginning, but I only just– 

[Soft breathing, sniffling]

Anyhow. I’m fine, put that away. I’m fine. 

It was a couple weeks ago, I think. Right after Suzanna’s baptism. I went into the closet at night, and I just sat right down on the floor in front of it.

At first, it was just like normal. I looked like me, a bit more tired, a bit less sunburned, but I was me.

I kept lookin, and it started to do that funny optical illusion. My nose started lookin’ a little too big, my eyebrows started seemin’ all wampus. I started pushin’ and prodding at my face, and… it stuck.

Look, here, my nose. It used to be crooked right here, and now it’s straight as an arrow. The mirror did that. My eyebrows are thinner, my lips are bigger. I was ecstatic; Kathy Lee spent three grand on her nosejob, and I’d just gotten one for dirt cheap. Cheaper, even. 

Frankie looked at me a little weird, that next morning, but I was over the moon. I’d go into the closet, push and poke, and come out a little more perfect than I had before. It got to be that I couldn’t go an hour before lookin’ at myself, making sure it’d stuck, that I looked alright. 

Then, about a week ago, I had one of my moments. 

I woke up, and I could tell it was gonna be a rough day. Frankie was already off to work at the power plant; he leaves early on Wednesdays. I didn’t bother makin’ myself pretty. I put on Frankie’s old sweatpants and my college hoodie– they’re my favorites for when I have my moments. They hide me away in folds and bags, and Frankie knows it’s my outfit for bad days, so we usually cuddle up on the easy chair and watch whatever’s on.

But the mirror was close, and I wanted to see if it worked on all of me. I wouldn’t have done it except for that I’d been cryin’, and I was all puffy, and nothin’ felt right.

It was hangin’ there, same as ever. I lifted up my shirt, sucked in my stomach, and… it stuck. No battlin’ with crunches, nothing. I turned, and it’d really stuck. That’s when things started goin’ wrong.

I started small. Just little pinches, like sculpting clay. Tuckin’ things in, pokin, lifting. I didn’t want Frankie to notice anything too different– he knows me, he’d notice if I suddenly looked like a Wal-Mart Megan Fox. I started to get frustrated; I pinched harder. My left leg wouldn’t match my right, I had to make ‘em even. I got so mad, I…

Lord, help me. I scrubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t mean to, it was just habit.

I screamed when I opened my eyes back up.

I looked like I’d melted. My nose was stickin’ straight up, my cheeks were dripping like candle wax. My eyes… You know when little boys get mad, and they pull their bottom eyelid down? Like that, but stuck, and I reached up, and that’s what they felt like, too. 

My heart was fixin’ to burst. I tried my best to fix it– I got out my phone, looked for a photo of myself. I tried to put everything back right, set my face back, but I’ve never been a very good artist. I look off. Like a twin, or a sister.

I went to bed early. When Frankie came in, I told him not to turn the lights on, that I felt sick. He believed me. 

He screamed, the next morning. He thought a stranger had snuck into his bed. I had to talk to get him to believe it was me. I told him everything– he broke the mirror. He wants to take me in to a doctor, one of those psychiatrists. Told me it’s for the best, that I need to talk to someone professional. Lord knows we don’t have the money to burn on useless things like that.

That’s why I’m here. I figure… you all have heard all manner of odd things. Surely I’m not crazy. 

[Cell phone buzzing]

Oh– that’s Frankie. I’m supposed to meet him for dinner. I’m trying to get out more.

Don’t tell him this, but… I’m not proud of this. I couldn’t take the chance. I have to be able to fix myself, somehow.

I stole a broken piece. It’s fitted into this compact blush. I need to fix it– I’m gonna. 

It can’t hurt, right?

[Statement ends.]

[sheepwithspecs]

Sweet Surprises

|| PLvsAA || Rated G ||

Ao3 Link

In an attempt to express his feelings, Zacharias Barnham attempts to craft the perfect Valentine's Day gift. Does he finally have the skills he needs to succeed, or will his second verse be same as the first?

“Three roses, please.”

The flower seller’s shop was balmy compared to the damp, frigid winter just outside the glass door. However, the sticky warmth wasn’t the reason Barnham found his hair plastered against the back of his neck. The majority of his perspiration came from the steady gaze being directed at him over the plated rims of Ms. Kira’s glasses. The young woman had seen sit to glare at him from the moment he entered the shop, and though he could not necessarily blame her—he had executed her as a witch, after all—it did make his current task all the more difficult.

“Three roses,” Kira mused, taking the beautiful flowers by their long stems and expertly trimming down the thorns. “I must say, Sir Barnham—I’m a little surprised. Three women at once must be a handful, even for someone of your… caliber.” She gave him another sidelong glance, lips pursed as she snipped errant leaves from the lower halves of the stems.

“I-I beg your pardon? I’m not—ahem.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head quickly against her less-than-subtle accusations. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. ‘Tis platonic affection, not romantic conquest, that guides my actions.” In two cases, at least. “I intend to show my appreciation and goodwill to all the important women in my life, rather than one alone.”

“Is that so.” She punctuated each dry word with the crackle of plastic, wrapping the roses carefully in clear film and handing them across the counter with a derisive sigh. “Will that be coin, or card?” Cradling the roses in his free arm, he dug deep into the pocket of his long coat for the correct change, tipping it into her expectant hand with a painstaking smile. She straightened her spine at once, a cheerful expression sliding effortlessly into place.

“Thank you very much for your kind patronage, sir!” she chirped in another voice entirely. “Happy Valentine’s Day, and please remember us for all your future floral needs!” Startled, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the flower seller himself slip around the corner, his hands full of posies. He nodded politely at Barnham, the look dissolving into a warning glance at Kira before he vanished behind the partition that separated the storefront from the storage area.

“I… thank you,” he mumbled, seeing that Kira had immediately relapsed into apathy. Shaking his head, he carefully wrapped the flowers in his coat to protect them against the rough winds before shouldering his way through the door and into the biting cold.

Labryinthia’s streets were a gray, muddy mess of half-melted snow. Boot prints and hoofprints alike were outlined by the slushy ruts of cart wheels, creating slick patterns down the center of the cobbled paths. The sky above was a merciless cobalt, darkening clouds threatening the city with another dose of either sleet or snow by night’s end. Anyone unfortunate to be on the streets were, like him, bundled head to toe against the elements; thick woolen scarves and all manner of hats served to protect as best they could against the bitter ocean gales.

Barnham hurried towards the bakery, taking care that the flowers weren’t crushed in his grip as he fought the full brunt of the wind. Many shops in their part of the neighborhood were still open at this hour, but he could see few customers inside as he passed the frost-glazed windows. The bakery, by comparison, was closed in anticipation of the work that needed to be completed before the holiday.   

He waved through the window to Mrs. Eclaire as he passed beneath the overhang, heading for the side alley and climbing the narrow steps to the living quarters. It meant a few extra seconds in the cold, fumbling for his key with numbed fingers, but he couldn’t risk the others seeing his gifts.

The upstairs rooms were only slightly more comfortable than the temperature outside, being sheltered from the wind. No one had been up yet to light a fire in the small grate, and the portable heating units were switched off to save on electricity while they worked downstairs. Barnham quickly made his way to his bedroom, shrugging off his wraps and shivering as the cold air crept beneath his jumper. He filled his old pitcher with water and placed the roses inside to safely last the night.

His task completed, he retreated downstairs to the bakery’s welcoming warmth. The air was thick with the smell of cocoa and sugar, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the oven. The kitchen, glowing cozily in the waning light, seemed entirely separate from the world beyond its windows. Life as a baker’s apprentice was hard, and often more grueling than a day of garrison drills; that being said, evenings like this made the backbreaking work worthwhile.

Mrs. Eclaire sat at the table, her mitts stacked primly on the chair beside her. She frowned at a tablet in her hands, muttering to herself as she poked at the screen. The tablet was brand new, a gift from Espella who—in the name of progress—had recently created a website for the bakery. Her claims that the site would pay for itself had already come to fruition with the advent of a limited edition cake for Valentine’s Day. The idea was so popular that they’d had to close orders after three days, leaving them with a mountain of work and a mob of upset Labyrinthians who’d missed out.

The one caveat to Espella’s monetary scheme was, unfortunately, the baker herself. Mrs. Eclaire was not technologically savvy by any means; she did well to find her email inbox and reply to messages without assistance. Foreseeing problems, Espella had taken a spare notebook and written a small manual on how to maneuver the website. Mrs. Eclaire had it in front of her now, squinting down in the dim light and shaking her head in silent confusion as she attempted to mark filled orders and schedule delivery windows.

Espella was also hard at work, her plaits tied loosely behind her back as she worked her way down a long tray of cooled Valentine’s cakes. He had helped the others design them: a miniature Dutch chocolate cake, stuffed with sweet raspberry filling and covered in a dark chocolate ganache. She had finished the ganache and was now hard at work on the decorations, piping miniscule roses onto the center of each cake. In a bowl on one end of the counter, fresh raspberries had been cut and were waiting to be placed on top with dots of melted chocolate.

Barnham wasted no more time. He pulled his apron from the wall hook, slipping it over his head before turning to the water basin. The cold water stung his fingers as he scrubbed, but he persevered until his hands were clean enough to pass the most scrutinous of inspections. Joining Espella at the counter, he reached into a waiting box and pulled out a small mountain of unfolded packages. These were another one of Espella’s hare-brained ideas, something to do with branding; he’d honestly tuned her out after the first few minutes of explanation. They were custom cake boxes, and each had to be folded perfectly so that the lid slotted into the base without jostling the cake inside: that was all the explanation he needed.

“Ahem.” Taking up the first box, his fingers blindly found the folds as he peered through his lashes at Espella. She steadfastly ignored him, her eyes locked firmly on her work. “Espella,” he tried again, “I was wondering if you might—”

“Busy,” she grunted, cursing under her breath as a glob of icing ruined the edge of one pale pink petal.   

“So I see. But once you’re through, would you perhaps be so kind as to aid—”

“The answer is no.” He frowned, lining the inside of the finished box with a piece of tissue paper before moving to the next.

“I haven’t finished my question.” Espella sighed, carefully balancing her piping bag on the edge of the tray. Wiping her hands on her smock, she turned to glare at him with a scowl that could have easily rivaled the High Inquisitor’s. Months of living beneath the same roof had shown him that, while normally complacent and sweet, she could be quite the spitfire when her temper flared. Even so, never before had he seen such an expression on her face—not even when she was being dragged to the Court once a fortnight under false charges.  

“You’ve been asking me the same thing all month. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“O-of course you aren’t!” He laughed, nervous fingers nearly creasing the box in his hands. “’Tis only that I am not the best giver of gifts, and I merely thought… that is, if you had another suggestion for what I might offer Miss E—”

“No!” Espella slammed her palms on the counter, rattling the tray and knocking a few raspberries out of the bowl. Mrs. Eclaire looked up in alarm, her technological troubles forgotten for the moment. “No more suggestions!” She took a deep breath, whirling on him before he could come up with either an apology or a proper defense.

“I’ve suggested jewelry. I’ve suggested clothing. I’ve even suggested a candlelit dinner. You’ve turned down every suggestion I’ve had, Zacharias Barnham, so I suggest you man up and find your own damn Valentine’s Day gift!”

“Espella!” Mrs. Eclaire scolded, her brow knitting as she looked between the two of them. “Language, please!”

“He’s been driving me insane all month, Aunt Patty! He’d test a saint’s patience!” She drew her shoulders back, voice dropping in a poor imitation of his own. “’Tis too simple, ‘tis too cheap, ‘twould not impress Miss Eve at all,” she droned, hands on her hips. “If you’re going to be this picky, you might as well choose something on your own.”

“I’ve no time left for choosing gifts!” he protested. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.”

“That’s not my fault!”

“Calm down, both of you!” Mrs. Eclaire ordered sharply. “I won’t have any arguments tonight.” Espella threw up her hands, stomping to the supply cupboard and bringing out a bowl of icing. She took out her frustrations on it, whipping the peaks into sad shape as she stirred at the speed of light. “You know she’s right, Zacharias,” she added ruefully. “A girl can only have so many ideas, and you’ve found fault in every last one of them.”

“Just make her something,” Espella grumbled. “I don’t know why you won’t.”

“Aye, and have a repeat of her birthday?” he snapped back. “One humiliation per holiday is more than enough for me, thank you.”

“Birthdays aren’t holidays.”

“I didn’t ask you—”

“That’s enough!” They broke apart guiltily, retreating to either side of the counter in sullen silence. The childish need to have the last word wasn’t worth risking Mrs. Eclaire’s wrath, and they both knew it.  

“Now, Zacharias,” Mrs. Eclaire continued, “I’ll admit that the éclair gift was a disaster waiting to happen. But you were so dead set on it; I knew that letting you fail was the only way to make you slow down and listen. Failure can teach anyone.”

“It’s not our fault that you’re such an overachiever,” Espella gloated. Mrs. Eclaire crossed her arms and, properly subdued, she obediently turned her attention back to her icing.  ��

“What Espella means,” she said, “is that you’ve been working in the bakery for over a year now. You’ve got a lot to learn, it’s true, but you’ve also learned a lot. I’m sure that Eve would be more than delighted to taste anything you saw fit to offer her.”

“I am… flattered, that you have such confidence in my abilities,” he replied slowly, staring down at the box in his hands. “Even so, I’m simply unable to believe that my own meager talent could reproduce anything of value, especially when there’s so much I’ve yet to master—”

“I wish you’d stop focusing on everything you can’t bake!” Espella put her hands on her hips, ignoring Mrs. Eclaire’s stern frown. “The only reason you haven’t settled on a gift is because you keep letting your expectations get in the way. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Eve will be happy with anything you give her. You could hand her a pebble you found on the street and she’d treasure it because it was from you.”

“These cakes are small, but they’ve just as much flavor as any of our larger ones,” Mrs. Eclaire offered helpfully. “When prepared with thoughtfulness and care, the simplest of gifts can hold great meaning.” Picking up the bowl of raspberries, she stood across from Espella and started to work on the opposite end of the cakes. “Now, no more squabbling. I’d like to have these finished before dawn.”

“A simpler gift….”

Barnham stood alone in the kitchen, listening carefully to the silence. He didn’t want either Espella or Mrs. Eclaire to find him down here, especially when he was supposed to be asleep himself. Rather than risk being caught by switching on the bright florescent lights, he instead lit one of the old gas lanterns.

He quietly stoked the oven’s fire back to life, turning over the options in his mind. Mrs. Eclaire was right—his work in the bakery had taught him far more than the little he’d known on Eve’s birthday. That being said, every recipe that came to mind seemed… lackluster. Arms crossed, he rolled his tongue in his cheek as he thought. Every recipe had a reasoning behind it, a history that stemmed from some unfulfilled need. What did he need Eve’s gift to be?

Quiet was the first word in his mind. It would need be something that didn’t call for heavy mixing or clattering pans that might wake the women upstairs. Quick—something that could be made in a few hours, at most. Delicious­—that was a given. He wanted a tempting flavor, a treat for the senses that would linger for hours in the back of her mind. Every time she thought about how good it tasted, it would remind her of him.

Pies needed time to set. Cakes were good, but there was a large margin of error involved; there was no salvaging a fallen cake. Bread was too commonplace, doughnuts too simplistic. Fancy desserts like mille-fille and croquembouche were far beyond his skillset, no matter how hard he wished otherwise. A tart might have worked, had there been any fruit left in the bakery. He could probably find a few apples down in the storage bins, but even if he could shape them into flowers, there was nothing to put them on. There weren’t any ready-made biscuits or—

Biscuits! They seemed like too simple of a solution, but…. Barnham thought quickly, sifting through the supply cupboard’s contents as he wracked his brain for ideas. Biscuits could be made quickly, and any plainness could be easily hidden with icing and a little ingenuity.

True, he’d yet to decorate any on his own, but he knew how to make the icing and he had watched carefully as the others made simplistic designs. His mind was racing as he began to pull out the ingredients he would need. He could dye the icing to match her favorite shade of purple, and if he could find where Mrs. Eclaire kept the edible luster he could even make a gold border around the edges.  

“I’ll practice on the others,” he mused, feeling more confident now that he had a plan. He could make three personalized cookies from the same base, cutting down on time without sacrificing either quality or individual preference. It wouldn’t do to make three identical copies of the same biscuit, of course. He knew everyone’s favorite flavors, and it was in the spirit of the holiday to incorporate them into his gifts. Mrs. Eclaire and Espella had taken him into their home and made him part of the family; the best way to show his appreciation was to prove his mettle as a baker.

Espella’s would be the easiest—she loved any sweets that incorporated her homemade jams. He mixed up the dough, shaping the biscuit in his mind’s eye: a linzer heart, dusted with a fine sprinkling of sugar and filled with cherry jam. Sweetness surrounding a tart center… a mirror image of the girl herself.

Mrs. Eclaire, on the other hand, preferred something more versatile. He knew that her favorite desserts worked just as well with black coffee as they did with tea, allowing her to enjoy them whenever she pleased. Another heart would tie the theme together, but this would be a plain, serviceable vanilla. Icing would serve to embellish the finer details, leaving him with a biscuit that, for all it’s plain appearance, would leave anyone who tasted it with a smile.  

As for Eve…. He hesitated, hands hovering over the dough. Hers was a complex flavor, toeing the line between bitter and sweet. The outer layer would be tough, beautifully decorated with all manner of luxurious ornaments, and yet the inside would remain warm and soft. Could he trust himself to do her justice? I must, he insisted, taking the dough that was left and mixing it with cocoa. The biscuit itself would represent the High Inquisitor, with all the bitterness of dark chocolate. In comparison, the icing would hold all of Lady Belduke’s gentle sweetness. With every bite, she would taste her true self in their coalescence.  

As the midnight bell tolled, he wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down with unguarded pride at his creations. Three heart-shaped biscuits, each easily the size of his palm, sat in a neat row on the bakery’s smallest tray.  The left sparkled with sugar in the lamplight, a window cut out of the top layer to show the cherry flavor within. The right was glazed with icing the color of Mrs. Eclaire’s favorite green dress; an admittedly lopsided sunflower was painted with vibrant yellow strokes at the very center. And in the middle, his magnum opus: a chocolate heart with a simple pattern of purple roses, swirled onto a deep red background. The intricate border, as well as the sunflower’s petals, had been brushed with gold luster.

He packed each in its own container, nestled safely in layers of tissue paper. With a sigh of relief, he crept back upstairs to his own room and placed them beside the roses on his bedside table. There were only a few hours until dawn; he would have to rise early if he wanted to give Eve her gift before helping with the cake deliveries. But the loss of sleep would be more than worth it, if she would only grace him with one of her beautiful smiles….

As he’d predicted, a new layer of snow had fallen over the island by Valentine’s morn. It crunched beneath his boots as he jogged past the gate and through the forest. Snow hung in clumps from the evergreen boughs above his head, glimpses of white crystalline fields visible between the trees. The temperature wasn’t low enough to freeze the lake; an early morning breeze churned the dark water into waves that disappeared into the perpetual mist surrounding the manor.

Barnham had slipped and slid over the forest paths, the thin snow crumbling away to show a fine layer of ice beneath. Thankfully, someone—an undergardener, perhaps—had taken pains to salt and sand the bridges leading up to Eve’s manor. He crossed without a problem, following the narrow, winding path past the stable and up to her door. The landscape seemed even more eerie during the long winters months, twisted limbs of leafless trees making odd shapes in the fog; without the red blossoms that spring and summer brought, the grass poking out of the snowdrifts looked sad and gray.

He rang the doorbell, listening with growing trepidation as the last echoes disappeared somewhere deep inside the manor. Snow usually made sounds louder, but today it only highlighted the silence that hung like mist over the Belduke lands. It only added to his nervousness as he waited, clutching the gifts tightly in his gloved hands.

What am I meant to say? He had only visited Eve’s home two or three times, and always in her company. The servants did not see fit to speak to him—they generally gave him a wide berth when in their lady’s presence—and he was sure they’d not yet forgotten his dramatic chandelier “trick” in the Great Witch’s throne room. Eve certainly made sure that he didn’t forget it, either. Her teasing smile spoke more than words ever could whenever she recounted the servants’ horror upon seeing a priceless Belduke heirloom laying smashed on the stained carpet.

Before he had time to ponder the subject further, the great doors opened and he found himself face to face—in theory, at least—with a stately woman in black. Her thin brows arched in silent query as she looked up at him, her mouth twisted in an expression he was more used to seeing on Ms. Primstone.

“May I help you?” she finally asked, when several moments had passed without a word being spoken between them. He swallowed thickly, offering a shaky smile as he tried to keep from brandishing the gifts in his hands. A small, cowardly part of him wanted to hand her the gifts and ask that they be delivered to Eve in his stead, but surely he was more of a man than that….

“I am… here to see… Miss Eve,” he managed, wincing at how his voice shook with nerves. The woman didn’t reply, adjusting her spectacles on her nose. “L-Lady Belduke?” Her shrewd eyes looked him over once more, pursed lips tightening further at the state of his snow-caked boots.

“Are you?” she replied drolly. Belatedly, he realized that it was a silly, obvious statement. Of course he was coming to see her. Why else would he be at her front door? If he’d wanted anyone else, he would have known to knock on the servant’s entrance instead. “Most visitors,” she added, “see fit to offer their name.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he stammered, a hot blush steaming on his cheeks in the cold air. Foolish, stupid— “I am Si— I am Zacharias Barnham, ex-Inquisitor and current… baker.”

“Is this a scheduled visit, Mr. Barnham?” She was doing this on purpose now; there was a twinkle in the old woman’s eye, barely hidden by her otherwise impassive expression. Her eyes fell to the rose in his hand, lingering there for a moment. “I see,” she mused, though he’d not been able to say anything in his defense. “I suppose I can’t leave you out here on the doorstep.” She took a step back, keeping the hem of her long skirts out of the snow. “As threadbare as that coat is, you’re apt to freeze before breakfast.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well? Are you coming in, or aren’t you?” The woman sighed. “I don’t have all day, you know.” He quickly crossed the threshold before she changed her mind, dripping in the foyer as she shut the door behind him. “Heaven sakes, child— you’re not paid to sleep on your feet.” He turned around guiltily, ready to offer another apology, only to see her prodding along a bleary lad no older than some of the garrison’s squires.

“Hand Taran your boots and wraps,” she ordered, standing regally at the foot of a grand staircase. He obeyed meekly, silently hoping there were no holes in his socks as he slowly piled his outer layer into the yawning Taran’s waiting hands. “Come along, then. You may wait for Lady Belduke in the receiving room.”   

The receiving room turned out to be what he would call a parlour, although he didn’t dare say the thought aloud as he was ushered inside. A fire was already blazing in the hearth, the thick window curtains pulled back to show a picturesque view of the lake. Portraits of past Beldukes looked down at the room, including a very small likeness of Eve who could have been no older than thirteen or fourteen. He remembered the gray silk dress she wore from the few social functions he’d been forced to attend as a page, learning the formal manners he would need as a future knight.

Left alone, he perched gingerly on the edge of an armchair, hands in his lap. Even the embroidered cushions that adorned the cabriole sofas looked too expensive to touch; he was afraid to look at them too long, lest he somehow mar them and be forced to pay the expense from his own pocket. A clock on the mantle caught his eye, ticking softly as its hand showed a quarter to eight. Mrs. Eclaire and Espella would be rising now, if they hadn’t already. He’d left their gifts at their places at the table, where they would be sure to find them when they moved downstairs. Had they discovered them already?

“I’m so sorry if you’ve been waiting long, Zacharias.” The door opened and Eve swept in, her unbound hair fluttering around her shoulders as she looked around the room. He stood abruptly, heart pounding as he clutched the gifts to his chest. “With Espella’s talk of cakes, I didn’t expect to see… you….” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the rose, lips parting wordlessly before she bit them closed.

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t planned for this part: the actual gift-giving. His mind had jumped from making the gift to her enjoyment of it, skipping everything in-between. He hadn’t practiced what to say, where to stay, how to act! The words seemed to lodge themselves behind the lump in his throat as they locked eyes.

Happy Valentine’s Day. That’s all you have to say, fool! He felt as helpless as he had on her birthday, standing an hour for the chance to offer her a lumpy éclair. That mortifying ordeal had only been tempered by her smile and—as unnecessary as it was—her gratitude. But now there were no friends to interrupt them, no teasing words to hurry him along. He had to manage something; the fear of rejection could not be his strongest enemy!  

Surely he could manage something as short and sweet as “Miss Eve, please accept this humble gift, even if you do not accept me”, or “I think I’m in love with you, don’t try to stop me if I attempt to drown myself in the lake after this”, or even “For the love of the gods, please have some mercy on your poor baker”….

“For… you,” he croaked, thrusting both gifts at her in a helpless gesture of defeat. She stared with equal helplessness, wringing her hands as she fidgeted in place.

“F-for me?” she repeated, sounding as breathless as he felt.

“Mmm.” Language was clearly not on his side this morning. He somehow managed to unstick his feet from the rug, taking one step forward, and then another, until he stood in front of her. Gently he pressed the gifts into her hands, a jolt running through him as their fingers brushed around the rose. He locked his trembling fingers together behind his back, watching as she sniffed the rose appreciatively.

“I… I like roses.”

“Good.” Why was it so hard to breathe? “I’m glad.” Eve carefully placed the rose on the mantle before turning her attention to the box, attempting to untie the bow that held its lid in place. He waited with bated breath, pulse ringing loudly in his ears as he watched her lift the lid and fold back the creamy tissue paper.

“It’s—oh!” Her eyes lit up in clear wonder, a pleased smile on her lips as she ran one finger along the edge of the braided gold trim. He noted in satisfaction that his coloring had not been amiss; the tiny rose swirls were the exact shade of the curls cascading down her back. “I had no idea the bakery even sold such beautiful treats.”

“We don’t.” He cleared his throat, attempting to manage something better than a mouthful of gravel. “I made it.”

“You… you made this? For me?”

“Yes. I am much improved since the day of your birth, am I not?” Heavens help him, now he was bragging. “It tastes like you.” Her smile faded immediately. “W-wait, that’s not right. I meant that ‘tis supposed to be you—”

“What?”

“T-the flavoring!” First he had been unable to speak at all; now he wished only to stop, and found himself unable to do so. “I made it while thinking of you, ‘tis bitter and sweet both—not that I think you to be bitter! That could not be farther from the truth, I merely… I meant it to be in your likeness, with the red and… and your color and….” He ran a hand through his hair, biting his tongue until he tasted blood in an effort to stop the prattle from pouring forth.

“You were thinking of me….” She gently placed the biscuit back into its tissue paper nest, her cheeks dusted a sweet shade of pink. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You needn’t say anything, Miss Eve.” He was thinking on his feet now—no, that was inaccurate. He wasn’t thinking at all, the words falling from his lips faster than he could register. “But if you must say something, please… please say that you will accompany me Sunday next.” Where did that come from?! Of all the things to say! How could he be so brazen, so… so presumptuous—

“I will.” Huh?

“I have no plans for Sunday, so I would be… very happy to accompany you.” Huh?!

“I, um… good! Good.” He had no real destination in mind, but that left him a week to plan. Perhaps Espella’s suggestion of a nice dinner would come in handy after all. If he could scrounge up the coin—ask Mrs. Eclaire for an advance on his wages—he could afford that new upper end restaurant on North Parade Avenue….

“Then it’s settled.” Her cheeks were more red than pink now, her eyes locked firmly on the buttons of his shirt. “We can discuss the finer details later in the week.” Was this a date, or a business proposition? The clock on the mantle chimed the hour, startling them both. “W-would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“I cannot, I’m afraid.” He smiled regretfully. “There are deliveries to make, and I have a duty to see them fulfilled before day’s end.”

“Oh… of course.” They stood awkwardly before the fire, looking everywhere but at one another. “You should probably go, then. I don’t want you to get into any trouble because of me.”  

“Right.” Her fingers were dancing again, twining around each other as she stared into the fireplace. Acting once more on impulse, he took her hand in his own. Despite being so close to the hearth, her fingers were cold. He bowed pressed his lips gallantly to the back of her palm, heart skipping a beat at the sound of her quiet gasp.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Eve.”

That went well, all things considered. He walked quickly along the path, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat and lapels turned up against the worst of the wind. She clearly enjoyed her gift, even she hadn’t grasped the full meaning of his choice, and now he had a date for next weekend. The thought sent his heart racing, a warmth coursing through him that had little to do with his fast pace.  

Anything was possible now, was it not? She agreed to one date, so why not two? Three? How many dates did it take before he could call her his girlfriend? Would she want him to call her that? Did he want her to—yes, he definitely wanted to hear her say “my boyfriend”. Was it acceptable to hug a woman on the first date? Would she think him too forward if he held her hand? What if—

“Wait! Zack!” It was the Zack that stunned him; Eve had never called him by that name before. He turned just in time to see her slip on a patch of ice, stumbling and nearly sliding into his chest before skidding to a stop on the snowy path. Beneath her woolen beret, her face was red from both exertion and embarrassment. He held out a hand to steady her as she caught her breath, mind awhirl to imagine what could have sent her into the cold after him.

Someone had fallen ill, and she needed him to run for Jean. She wanted to place an order at the bakery. She had a message for Espella she wanted him to relay. She’d changed her mind about Sunday, she didn’t want to date him after all—

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his own breath short as his thoughts ran rampant. “Is something wrong? What—” She reached up without a word and took his face in both hands, dragging him down to press her lips to his. Her palms were only a few degrees warmer than the air around him, but her cheeks seemed to blaze as she kissed him. Before he could begin to understand what was happening, she let go. He staggered back a step, heart dropping like a stone to sit somewhere in his lower stomach.

“Thank you,” she panted, her breath steaming in the air between them. “I forgot to say it earlier.” Thank you? For what? He gaped at her, brain unresponsive and thoughts stalling as he began to process what had just happened. It was only when she moved away, head dipping self-consciously, that he sprang to life with a jolt.

“Thanks is not necessary!” His own face began to burn, everything from his roots down tingling in a way that was not wholly unpleasant. “Your smile was more than enough thanks for me. But,” he added quickly, seeing her head sink further, “should you be willing t-to… to thank me again… ‘twould be most welcome.”

“I-I might see fit to thank you again… on Sunday next.” She took a step back, eyes lifting to meet his as she smiled shyly. “If it’s alright with you, that is.” He laughed, the sound part nervous energy and part true delight.

“I shall look forward to it.”

[ducknotinarow]

Bailey Richard -[☕] our muses make hot chocolate together

| SEND AN EMOJI FOR A STARTER ! ↳ winter season & holiday based

Richard's favorite places at home could be narrowed down pretty easily and it meant trying to find him in the large building wasn't all that hard either. Despite all the space the house had to offer Richard always seem to find himself in a selected few spaces. And it wasn't anything like Richard didn't feel at home in the house? in truth Richard felt at home when it was still only Bailey's place. Richard recalled a good while before he moved in he basically was living with Bailey. Why being asked to move in freaked him out so much had to been a bit silly in some aspects considering that fact. But, no it wasn't anything like that Richard just found he liked some places more than others. Of course the music room was always the got to spot. It was where he knew he was in love with Bailey. There was of course his and Bailey's shared bedroom. Buddy's room sometimes their playroom even. If not upstairs? then Richard was in the kitchen.

Least it made looking for him easy, due to his own predictability. Where some may find that made Richard boring if anything it just meant it was easier for Bailey to figure out where his husband was after they left the bed. And of course he was in the kitchen. Richard loved to be in the kitchen, didn't matter he spent most his days in a kitchen of sorts considering his work.

So when he can just feel Bailey looking over his shoulder the eagle smiles to himself. "If you are going to complain about me leaving you alone in bed I am going to point out Buddy had that school trip" Richard right away jumps on to. An early trip because they were leaving for Duckberge so they had to make a decent drive out from St.Carnad. So Richard's day had started early well normal for the early bird he was. Much to Bailey's jokes Richard like to sleep when the sun was set and awake before it rose.

"though it is nice to see you up and about early" Richard points out, but it was something Bailey been doing lately himself, no longer wasting most of his day away curled up in bed. The few time they both woke at the same time and would simply watch the sunrise together. It was an oddly appealing thing now. But, the fact Bailey was getting up early now? Just brought a smile full of pride for his husband to his beak. Slightly twisting back so he can better look at Bailey as he hands over the pink mug into his husbands hands.

They do seem to enjoy getting something to drink but also look surprised that it wasn't coffee Richard was in the middle of making just now. Richard offers a shrug of his shoulders. "You've been getting up early for a good few weeks now so I decided to make you up that pink hot chocolate drink you like so much. I was able to stop by a grocery store that had that white chocolate I feel works best for the good rich and smooth flavor. I know you're a bit more knowledgeable with it thanks to your interest in baking these days." Even if Bailey was still working on that goal he was in fact getting better. "I did see a cocoa powered you might like* Richard continued to say. When catching Bailey's face now.

He turned to face them resting back against the counter as he offered a tilt of his head and rose up a brow in an unasked questioned written over his face. He can sort of understand what Bailey might be wondering, he hadn't any signs of Coffee being made first or at all. Richard just offers a faint smile to Bailey before he speaks. Leaning forward to get a bit closer to the rooster before he speaks.

"Bailey? You know you're the one I care about most yes?" That shouldn't be anything new, nor should there be any shadow of doubt that Bailey was who he care for most. He waits to see if bailey has anything to say about his statement before he lets his leans forward to place a soft kiss to their forehead. Richard doesn't say it in words but he hopes his gestures are in the least showing it. That he knows Bailey's steps to getting sober are to be celebrated like the badge for making it a year with out a drink. But Richard feels the small changes should be too.

And maybe there was some guilt on his own part, he should have helped Bailey sooner than when he had. Richard loved seeing Bailey wake up early everyday. Richard loved Bailey rekindle a love for his own passions even, and he loved Bailey trying to better himself in other ways like learning to cook and bake despite the fact Bailey should never step a talon in the kitchen. Because it always became a mess somehow. But Bailey was doing something Bailey didn't seem in favor of doing. Trying. And Richard felt that was something to give attention to. "That's all Pollito" Richard offers, smiling as he moves back to face the counter cleaning up after himself well also getting things out for some coffee to get going. "Please drink that before it gets cold though." Richards usual tone returning as he idly complains.

"I don't know why you insist on ruining your drinks by letting them go cold if it were meant to be cold then I would make it cold for you." The usual bickering tone in his voice because it truly was an annoyance to Richard that he was all to aware Bailey would continue to do. And he just knows they are smiling in a way that says it as well. So he turns to look at the rooster showing he was being serious but he can't hold the expression for long as he soon just smiles softly at them. "Even if I do enjoy the million worded compliments on you photos," The only reason Richard had an Instagram himself because he only followed Bailey on there. "I would perfer you drink them how they are meant to be enjoyed and not in the 'Bailey' considering that way also means you will eat day old pizza that more cardboard than food at that point." its all playfully said of course but he is being fully serious with that statement at the same time.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[harryspet]

his to claim | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader, a/b/o dynamics, werewolf au, fury!reader, monica is a fury too, sam wilson x monica, virgin!innocent!reader, hint of ddlg dynamic, noncon sex, noncon marking, soulmates au, oral sex (female recieving), kidnapping

A/N: enjoy this long (long for me at least) one-shot! 

In which you befriend a lonely Alpha.

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything​ @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011​ @visintaes​  @watercoolerpaint​ @disaster-rose​ @slutforsebstan

main masterlist

word count: 5.8k 

Sam knew Bucky was in one of his moods. One of his moods where he’d disappear for five days, not give a clue to where he was going, and return covered in blood. Although Bucky’s closest friend and Beta to his pack, Sam, was getting married this week, Bucky was stuck in his ways. Bucky knew that a wedding meant that another pack would be invading his land, filling the pack house with strangers, and two packs meant there would be two Alphas. Although he respected Alpha Fury, Bucky wasn’t the type to get along nicely with others, especially other Alphas. 

It was one in the morning when the white wolf passed through the tree line, the packhouse coming into view. The three-story cabin fit many of the high-ranking families and was the center of most pack activities. Meetings, gatherings, and celebrations for the Winter’s Shield pack were all held here. 

Bucky shifted, each one of his bones cracking roughly back into place as if they’d forgotten they were half-human. As he expected, there was a pair of shorts waiting for him on the porch. Nat always hated when he’d show up naked in the middle of the night. This is my house, he’d say. Save it for your mate, she’d say back. Bucky would always scoff at that. Not many Alphas make it to their thirties without a mate and Bucky was quite willing to keep his single streak going. 

The house was heated, comforting him after losing the warmth of his coat. Still, he was covered in elk blood and could use a shower along with a twelve-hour nap. He walked towards the winding stairs, only to hear rumbling in the kitchen, and deciding to investigate. He was the only night owl around here, or at least that’s what he thought. 

He could already smell that there were foreigners around and prayed this week would go by fast. Flicking on the kitchen light, he found you sitting on the island counter. You looked up from your carton of chocolate ice cream with wide eyes. He expected you to freak out at the sight of him but it seemed you were more embarrassed on your behalf rather than frightened. 

“Sorry … I was just gonna have one bowl and then that turned into two. And then  …” You emphasized the spoon that was sitting in the mostly eaten carton. Omega, his wolf said. There was a strange omega sitting on his kitchen counter in oversized pajamas and hair rollers. His eyes fell to something sitting behind her which she instantly pushed further behind her back in panic, “There’s a little left if you want some.”

“Who are you?” Bucky asked, a little more harshly than he intended. 

“Y/N,” You answered, a bit flustered, “I’m Monica’s sister … also her maid of honor. I know there isn’t usually a maid of honor in our wedding ceremonies but there’s always a maid of honor in the movies. I’m gonna throw her such a cool bachelorette party, Natasha said we could have it in the living room-”

Bucky felt suffocated by your excitement. Feeling overwhelmed by the bright lights and whatever his wolf was feeling for you, he said, “Stop,” He raised a hand, confused by your comfortableness with the situation. You talked to him, an Alpha, so casually and you didn’t seem at all frightened by his bloody appearance,  “Do you know who I am?”’

“Alpha Barnes,” You hopped down from the counter, making sure to keep whatever you were hiding behind your back, “Sam said you’d be back at some point. They made a bet on whether or not you’d get back before or after my dad left. Everyone said you’d skip the wedding.” 

Alpha Fury’s second daughter. An Omega. An annoying, little, ice-cream stealing Omega. 

“Well here I am,” Bucky stepped closer to you and was surprised when you didn’t even blink at that. An omega raised by an Alpha, you were something Bucky had never encountered, “Why are you raiding my kitchen so late at night, Omega.”

There was a flash of sadness in your eyes, “I had a nightmare … ice cream always makes me feel better. You ever get nightmares, Alpha Barnes?” Bucky’s brows furrowed. 

“No,” Bucky spoke coldy, confused about what was pulling him closer to you. 

“Nuh-uh, no way,” Bucky thought you were challenging him but there was an innocent smile on your face, “My Dad said you’ve fought in lots of battles, challenged a lot of other Alphas, you must see a lot of terrible stuff. You never even get a little bit scared?”

Bucky ignored your pressing question, the look on his face frustrated, “What’s behind your back?”

“Uhm … what’s behind yours?” You tried distracting him but Bucky knew there was nothing behind him. 

“Show me,” He commanded, knowing that Omega inside of you wouldn’t want to disobey him. 

You huffed. 

Stupid alphas, Bucky heard your voice but your lips didn’t move. 

You pulled an old, stuffed bear from behind your back, “It’s Mr. Cuddlebear …. he also helps with the nightmares,” In his eyes, you were definitely too old to have a stuffed animal but his wolf found it endearing. He hated that, “You never got scared even when you were a little? No monsters under the bed? Boogeyman in the closet?”

“It’s late,” Bucky changed the subject, “I’m sure we have a long week ahead of us. I’d take … that-”

“Mr. Cuddlebear,” You interrupted, reminding him of your teddy bear’s name. 

“Go to bed, little wolf.”

Stupid Alpha voice. 

You rolled your eyes as your feet began to move before your brain began to register, “Goodnight, Alpha Barnes,” You left the kitchen, carrying the teddy bear with you, “Sleep tight, don’t let the vampires bite.” He heard your little giggle as you climbed up the stairs. 

Bucky placed his hands on the counter, staring at the ice cream. Did he ever have nightmares? No one had ever asked him that before. 

Bucky cleaned up nice, you thought as you looked at him across the room. No one expected him to even come, let alone put on a nice suit jacket. The rehearsal dinner was loud with both Winter’s Shield and the Daystar pack mingling together for the first time. Sam seemed to be having the time of his life, your father was being much lighter than usual, and Monica was …. well, Monica. 

You were talking with a bunch of people, giving out the sugar cookies you’d made when you made eye contact with him. He drank from his glass of wine and you noticed he was standing with Sam and Monica. She was in the prettiest yellow dress and you could tell Sam was happy to find a mate so beautiful. 

You’d looked away, focusing on meeting everyone when Monica started to walk towards you. 

“Stay away from him, please,” She stepped in front of you.

“Stay away from who?”

“Alpha Barnes,” She spoke lowly. 

“He’ll be your Alpha soon, you know.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I already met him, Monica,” You smiled, “He was nice to me in like a weird, cold way.”

She shook her head, your words seeming to worry her more, “That’s what I’m worried about,” She grabbed your hand, leading you away to one of the tables in the corner. You had a plate of sugar cookies in your hands, some you’d made especially for the party to give out, “You have a tendency to make people like you but you don’t want him to like you, trust me. All that stuff Daddy taught us still stands, it doesn’t matter that we know him now. So just sit here, and do nothing, please.”

“But what about my cookies? I have to give them out!” You whined as she fenced you in, forcing you to sit down.

“I’ll do it,” She smiled, taking the plate from your hands, “You’ve socialized enough I think so just … relax.”

“But-” She was already walking away. You loved your sister, she was your best friend, but she was still a Beta. She had no idea what it was like to be you, surrounded by jerks who thought they were better than you. Maybe that’s why you liked talking with people so much, to prove that maybe you were more fragile than them but you weren’t invisible. Right now, you felt invisible. 

You could only watch everyone have fun without you for so long and you got out of the seat about ten minutes later. You left the large white tent, where it was much cooler, and you didn’t mind being alone as much. 

You told yourself to cheer up, trying not to frown. A week from now, you’ll be home, you’ll be on house arrest again but without Monica. You were going to savor this small vacation no matter the obstacles. 

Bucky found you outside sitting in the grass as you stared up at the moon. He got that feeling again, his wolf wanting to be closer to yours, and wished he felt differently. You looked back at him as you felt him approaching, and you heard Monica’s voice in your head telling you to stay away. 

“Did you try my cookies?” Your lips pulled into a smile that, like everything about you, confused him. 

“I didn’t … I watched Sam eat six of them though,” The tall Alpha responded, sticking his hands into his pants pocket. 

“Watching your perfect, Alpha-physique?”

Bucky actually felt the need to smile though he kept himself controlled, “Something of that nature, yes.”

“Awe, a few cookies won’t hurt,” You stood up from the ground, dusting off your dress. Bucky noticed your mary jane’s and the little butterfly clips in your curls, “Let me guess, you only prey on innocent animals.”

The Alpha smirked, “I’ll make sure to try your cookies next time, little wolf.”

“Sadly, there won’t be a next time,” You stepped past him and he followed after you, as you walked towards the tree line, “My father will probably find me a mate that lives across the country so he doesn’t have to deal with me.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Both Monica and Fury wanted to make it clear to him that you were practically claimed. You didn’t know yet but Peter Parker of the Stark pack was waiting for you. Fury was planning a quick, summer wedding, “I can’t imagine the poor fool who will have to deal with your kitchen raids and Mr. Cuddlebear.”

You grinned, “You remembered his name?” Bucky remembered and he’d been watching you ever since that late night, “I thought you might laugh at me, Monica does.”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment and, as you looked at him, it seemed that his mind was racing with thoughts, “I’ve had nightmares before,” He stated and you waited for him to elaborate. 

“What happened in them?” You prodded softly. 

Another long pause, “When was the last time you shifted?”

You figured that’s all you were going to get out of him. You thought for a moment, “I can’t even remember. Not since the winter solstice at least.”

“Let’s go on a run,” Bucky said, not waiting for you to agree. He picked up his pace, walking past the tree line and expecting you to follow. You hurried after him, your heart suddenly beginning to pound in your chest. 

“Alpha Bucky, Monica will kill me. Literally. She threw a hairdryer at me once,” You said, sounding panicked, though you got deeper and deeper into the woods, “And what about my dress?”

He turned around suddenly and you almost ran into his broad chest, “Take it off,” He ordered. Your hand instinctively reached up to the strap and you panicked, “Go behind a tree, I mean.”

“But Monica-”

“You’re an adult, right?”

You shrugged, “I try to be-”

“Then you can decide. Besides that, I’ll be Monica’s Alpha soon enough.”

You imagined her throwing a fit but you still conceded, walking to find a tree to hide behind, “It might take me a second, I think I’m a shy shifter.”

“Take your time, little wolf,” His words were more comforting than you expected. 

You stripped from your clothes behind the tree, trying not to imagine what Monica would think of you. An unmated female getting naked in the forest with an unmated male in the middle of the forest? There were all types of moral codes you had to be breaking. 

Standing in the cold, you shut your eyes tightly. Monica taught you the counting method when you were younger. You tried to tune out the rest of your thoughts, focusing on the nature around you, as you counted down from ten over and over again. It was instinct after that, the Moon Goddess taking over and unleashing your inner wolf. You didn’t feel the pain as your bones molded into their new positions and you became the second version of yourself. 

When you stepped from behind the tree, the white wolf was towering over your small, grey figure. 

His head tilted down towards you and you could already tell his wolf wanted to be more friendly with you than his human self. He smelled you, biting at your neck but you were even more playful in wolf form. You walked between his legs, confusing him, until you ran in the opposite direction. He chased after you and you didn’t expect to outrun him but you planned to give him a run for his money. 

He couldn’t sleep with you so close by. He tried going on another run to clear his head but his mind was full with you. He’d lived a long life yet this feeling in his soul was brand new. Never had Bucky desired anyone to be anything but a casual fling. His wolf wanted more than to just conquer you which was territory Bucky found hard to navigate. What would it say for his legacy if he took an Omega as his mate? How empty would he feel if he let you go tomorrow? What relationships would he throw away in order to claim you as his?

Covered in sweat, he pulled the sheets from his body, sitting up in his bed. 

Nightmare, his wolf echoed in his mind. Bucky rubbed his temples. That wasn’t a nightmare to him, he was just an overthinking mess. He was going to ignore that feeling until he sensed something was truly wrong. 

She dreams of pain and suffering.  

Go to her. 

Bucky stood up from his bed, filing out of his room, and down the long hallways of the packhouse. He pressed his ear to your door, his hand lightly touching the doorknob. He heard soft whimpers from the inside and, for a moment, he resisted you. He would turn around and try to go back to sleep. Instead, his wolf took control. 

Bucky opened the door, your whimpering continuing and you stirred although it wasn’t because of him. He closed the door gently, moving towards your bed, crossing a boundary that he was sure would be frowned upon. Your cheeks were stained with tears and you seemed to be grabbing Mr. Cuddlebear for dear life. 

He sat carefully at the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch you, “Y/N,” He whispered, trying to suppress the anger that he felt over the pain you were in. 

“No, no,” You whispered over and over again. 

“Little wolf,” He whispered again, his hand on your arm. The Alpha’s touch startled you out of your sleep and your eyes were wide with fear as you came back to consciousness. You weren’t sure why he was in your room or why your nightmares were getting so bad, “It’s just a bad dream-”

You sat up from your position and wrapped your arms around the Alpha. He seemed to freeze at your touch but you hugged him tighter for comfort. He wrapped his arms around you, his hand tentatively rubbing at your back and you heavily breathed against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, I just … you were crying.”

“I-I woke you up?”

“No,” Bucky lied, “I was just walking by and I heard you.”

“Alpha Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Everything’s going to change tomorrow. My wolf, she senses something bad coming, and she’s scared.”

Bucky stiffened again, his wolf beginning to worry.  “Something bad? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know but the dreams are getting worse.”

“What do you see in your dreams?”

“I’m … I’m walking in his field, there’s so much sunshine and flowers a-and I’m walking towards the sun. I’m walking and walking and I’m happy and then I just start to sink into the ground. And I’m drowning and it feels like someone is holding me, pulling down further and further. I can’t breathe and there’s just this darkness a-and I-I-”

“Hey, hey,” He shushed you, sensing you were about to hyperventilate,  “It’s okay. Nothing is going to take you away. No one, do you understand?”

He felt you nodding and he grabbed you tighter, deciding he was going to hold you for as long as you needed him to. 

“I didn’t tell you because of this reason-”

The pen in Bucky’s hand snapped in half and his fists balled up tightly, “Sam, today is your wedding, I understand that but this is my territory. I decide who comes in and out of it. That’s final.”

“They’re already here-”

“Then send them away. Fury is trying to push me and this is the final straw.”

“He’s already married the first daughter off, he’s just trying to do the same with Y/N. And he knows that this is a chance for three alphas to sit down and discuss what we’re going to do about the rogue situation.”

Feeling that he was drawing blood from clenching his fist so hard, he moved them under his desk.  “I can handle problems that concern my own pack. Tony is even more arrogant than Fury, we’ll never agree.”

“You have to at least try, Alpha,” Sam sighed, “You haven’t found one woman you’d consider having little Buckys with. Maybe Stark will bring someone that will pique your interest?”

Bucky ignored him, “When Stark arrives-” Sam let out a triumphant cheer, “-Bring him and Fury to my office. I won’t need you here, I’m sure you’ll have much to prepare for this evening.”

“You won't regret this.”

Bucky followed Peter’s line of sight. There you were, standing in a beautiful periwinkle dress, waiting for your sister to walk down the aisle and join an anxious Sam. The birds were singing, a violin was being played, and everyone was collectively ready to celebrate the joyous moment. Everyone except Bucky.

Of course, Peter wanted to look at you, a beautiful creature, an unmated female, he'd be lucky to call you his mate. He was young like you, he'd be able to get all your references, keep up with your energetic ramblings, you'd get to go far away from your father and you'd be so happy. You'd forget all about Monica. You’d forget all about the week you spend in Winter’s Shield. 

The wedding went off without a hitch and Bucky watched you have the time of your life. Peter targeted you, of course, that was the entire reason was her, to woo you and it was working. You were dancing together, laughing when Peter made a silly misstep.

Bucky shooed away every Stark girl who tried to approach him, even denying a Beta, until he was standing alone in the corner. 

The festivities calmed down late into the night, you had to say goodbye to Peter, Monica was whisked away to a “private cabin” and everyone else returned to their rooms. Your father reminded you to pack your things as you’d be leaving early in the morning. 

Looking at Mr. Cuddlebear sitting on your bed, you were reminded of the events of last night. You didn’t expect so much kindness from the cold Alpha but, as Monica warned you, he seemed to like you. You still thought she was being dramatic with her warning and that she would grow to like her new Alpha. 

You never did really get to thank him and he also never tried your cookies. You had an amazing idea and late-night baking always led to amazing things. 

Bucky was pacing the length of his room when there was a knock at his door. His wolf knew instantly that it was with you like the Moon Goddess had answered his prayers. He was fighting every natural urge in his body and he planned to hide away until everyone was gone tomorrow. Now, he had no idea what he was going to do. 

When Bucky opened the door, you were standing with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, and a kind smile on your face, “A thank you for last night,” You offered, “I figured you’d like a plain chocolate chip cookie. I’m not sure though-”

“Come in,” Bucky said quickly, closing the door behind you. You noted that he was still wearing his dress pants though he was only wearing a sleeveless undershirt at his top. Though you’d seen him shirtless before, this time felt more intimate. 

“Try one,” You insisted, “Please.”

Bucky was hesitant, his diet not usually including such human pleasures, but he was quite surprised with the first bite. You seemed nervous, expecting a good reaction which Bucky found adorable, “They’re good,” Bucky nodded, “I mean, they’re great. Here, come sit down.”

As you took a seat on the edge of the giant bed, Bucky grabbed the glass and plate from your hands, moving to set it on the nightstand, “Your room is … big.”

You grew a bit nervous as the bed dipped beside you and Bucky took a seat. You always felt his strong energy, even last night, but now it was a bit overpowering. You blamed it on the approaching full moon and tried to ignore it, “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I like it. It’s … simple,” Bucky tried his best to register your mood. Were you nervous? That was the last feeling he expected to feel from you. You were always rambling or talking about something you were annoyingly passionate about. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, his head turned to you. 

You didn’t answer him, “What do you know about the Stark pack?”

Bucky’s hands folded together and his jaw clenched as reality set in, “I sense you know of your father’s plans.”

“I had a suspicion,” You sighed.

“And … you’re unhappy with his decision?” 

You were quiet for a moment, “What if it isn’t a good idea?”

“I’m sure … I’m sure your father wouldn’t lead you astray. The man infuriates me but he’s usually quite wise …”

“You’re right …” You said, staring back at the Alpha who seemed to be experiencing a whirlwind of emotions behind his eyes, “My nightmares, they just make me nervous for the future-”

“You could stay,” Bucky stated quickly, sure of himself. His hand touched your thigh and your eyes began to widen, “With me, I mean. And, of course, Monica would be here too.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “You don’t mean … I’m an Omega, Alpha Bucky.”

A thin smile pulled at his lips, “I’ve noticed that, yes. Believe me, my offer does not come from a place of ignorance. I’ve been thinking about this, I promise, and it could be good for both of us. You could stay near your sister and I could …”

It took everything in you to push away from that bed, “My Dad would be livid. Beyond livid, actually. And Peter. The treaty. It would throw everything off balance, Alpha Bucky.” He stood, his shadow draping over you as you took a hesitant step back. 

“Who needs balance if there is a connection here. My wolf feels yours, they’re drawn to each other, I know you can sense that.”

“Bucky-”

“Listen, little wolf, please,” He insisted, stepping closer, “I’ve never been sure before, not in my entire life. This, I am sure about.”

You shook your head, “Well, I am not,” Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken, “I like you and there’s a connection, yes, but as my father’s daughter, I have responsibilities. I respect him too much to go behind his back. You have to understand that.” 

“You came here tonight. That night in the forest. You didn’t know it but you called me to your room last night. What am I supposed to make of your advances-”

“Advances? I thought you were a friend-”

“Stop,” He commanded, leaving your body frigid from the power of his voice, “Don’t move.”

He took your face into his hands and you whimpered, “Bucky, I gave you the wrong impression.”

“No, you may not know it yet but this is what your wolf wants. We’re animals, underneath it all, and there’s only so much we can control our own desires,” You pushed against his chest when he smashed his lips on yours. You bit down on your bottom lip, wishing your feet would push you further away from him. When he pulled away, he was grinning, blood on his lips, “Biting, huh? I’m happy to play along with your game.”

You opened your mouth but he was too quick, “Don’t scream, little wolf. The screaming is the next part.”

His hands move to your waist, pulling you into his muscular body. He kissed you again, kissing the sides of your mouth and chin.  Your hands pulled into small fists as he held you, his touch sending foreign feelings through your body. You felt an overwhelming warmth, more than his body heat, but the warmth of the bond his own wolf felt for yours. His mouth met with your neck and that's when your lips parted and moans escaped your lips. 

“Please,” Was all you could manage. “Please stop.”

Your mouth was saying one thing but it was clear to him that you enjoyed his touch, “Don’t think of me like the bad guy, Omega. When I’m your Alpha, I won’t be like Fury. I’ll let you be who you are, you won’t be just an object to pawn off for power. You’ll be my Omega but you’ll stand beside me, not behind. You’ll be happy with me. I can take the nightmares aways, remember?”

“No, no,” You resisted, knowing deep down that he was that darkness in your dream. You were right to be scared but you hadn’t suspected that you should be scared of me, “M-My father will challenge you a-and you’ll lose any respect you once had.”

He grabbed you roughly by your chin, his forehead pressed against yours as he held your body, “I’ve never cared much for puritanical pack society … why should I care now, Omega?”

You sniffled, “Because you care about me?”

“You’re young, little wolf. I don’t expect you to fully understand but it's because I care that I have to do this. It will only hurt for a little while, okay?” He wasn’t asking for permission and as he pulled his face from yours, his eyes went black, and you were already screaming as his sharp canines protruded from his mouth. 

He pulled your head to the side, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. As you collapsed, he kept you in his arms, and you both went down to your knees. It was an indescribable pain, paralyzing, until it wasn’t. Your vision blurred as it felt like the strongest drug rushed through your body. It was not the way you imagined you’d be marked, you surely weren’t in love, and the man who’d claimed you was unhinged. 

As you slipped into the darkness, you heard someone screaming your name. You felt a little hope that you’d be saved but you couldn’t hold on longer. 

You grabbed your shoulder instantly as your eyes shot open, roughly pulling yourself from slumber. You winced, your hand running over the bandaged skin, as you realized the magnitude of the situation. Taking a moment to look around your surroundings, you found that you were somewhere that you didn’t recognize. 

It was a small, one-room cabin, the living room, kitchen and the bed you were on were all in the same room. A tear slipped down your face as you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Your legs were bare, your bridesmaid dress gone, and a large t-shirt was the only thing that you were wearing. He’d undressed you all the way and had no problem with it, probably due to the fact that he’d bonded you together for life. 

He’d even made sure to bring Mr. Cuddlebear along though you weren’t sure anything could calm you now. 

As you were about to push yourself off the bed, the cabin door opened, and a shirtless, freshly-shifted Bucky appeared. He took one look at you and his jaw clenched. 

“W-Where are we?”

“Couple miles off of my territory,” He stated, shutting the door and walking to the kitchen. As he turned his back, you got up from the bed, moving cautiously towards the fireplace which was closer to the door, “So no one can bother us.”

“My Father, where is he? How did you … without him knowing …” 

He reached into the cabinet, grabbing a glass to fill with tap water. You were eyeing the door, wondering if he was just pretending to be distracted by his task, “Oh, he knew,” Bucky chuckled, “He was livid, like you said, but he couldn’t do anything. He can’t touch you anymore now that you’re bitten. No one can.”

Your face fell, “But-” Bucky turned around and it hit you. The bite reshaped your chemistry and now any Alpha wouldn’t be able to get near you until you were fully mated. Alpha Fury wasn’t coming for you. 

But Monica-

“Monica isn’t coming either, little wolf. Remember, I’m her Alpha now too,” Bucky moved forward, the glass in hand, “You should drink, you lost a good amount of blood.”

You stepped to the side, moving away as he approached, “You knew you’d only hurt me, even when I thought you were my friend.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he moved closer, “I know that’s how you feel now-” You climbed onto the couch and over it as he moved closer, “Y/N, come here. Now.” You eyed the door, now closer to it than he was. 

“You’re a monster.”

“Little mate, if you continue to not listen to me, I’m going to come over there, throw you over my shoulder, and tie you down to that bed for the next few days because that's just the type of mood I’m in right now.”

“I’ll never. Be. Your mate-”

 The sound of breaking glass made you jump and you watched the cup crumble in his grasp. Almost falling, you made a sprint for the door. As soon as you’d gotten it open, a hand was above you, slamming it closed. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back towards the bed. 

He pushed you down onto it, making sure not to put any pressure on your bite, before climbing on top of you. He pinned down your kicking legs, saying, “You’ll hurt yourself, little mate,” He tried to console you, shushing you as you began to whimper, “Please don’t fight it anymore…” But you panicked even more as he lifted your shirt. 

He gripped your thighs tightly, pulling your exposed sex to his mouth. One hand you could barely move because of the bite, the other gripped the comforter tightly, as he kissed between your thighs. Of course you’d never been touched so Bucky would be as gentle as he could manage. He also knew that your new bite would heighten every feeling he gave you and it wasn’t long before you’d be a mewling mess. 

You thought that maybe you’d gone into heat, that’s why his touch felt so good, but you were very wrong. You could only imagine what it would feel like when your body craved to be pregnant. He cooled your fire, and within thirty seconds you were already having your first orgasm. He kept his mouth on you as you rode out the pleasure, not letting you take any breaks as he began to kiss up your body, moving the shirt further and further up your body. 

He kissed over your mark which sent waves of pleasure through you, making him growl, “You’re mine, little mate,” Then he kissed your lips as you moaned against them. As he positioned himself between your legs, you knew what was coming. 

“Bucky, please. I-I’m scared.”

“It’ll hurt just for a little while,” He assured you, reaching above you to grab Mr. Cuddlebear, “Hold on to your bear, little wolf.”

You held the stuffed bear tightly against your chest as he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel how big he was even as you tried to avoid eye contact with him. Looking away didn’t last long as he grabbed your chin, making sure he could see your face as he slid each inch inside of you. He stretched you open, taking the air from your lungs, as you tried to adjust to the feeling. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” He grunted, leaning down to kiss your chin. He’d slowly pull in and out of you, letting you get used to him. He kissed over your mark again, easing the pain, and turning your whimpers into moans, “Good girl, my good girl.”

“Please,” You started to wish for him to push you over the edge, to give you another orgasm, not for him to let you go. He kissed you, using his hand to rub your sensitive bulb as he pushed in and out of you, “Please, please - ah!”

Your back arched and your senses were delighted as an orgasm ripped through you. He didn’t slow, speeding up his pace, as he went back to kissing over your bite. He reached below you, pulling you further down onto his member. He was animalistic, every natural instinct in his body telling him to pleasure you until you couldn’t walk anymore and to round your belly. 

You came again, this time at the same time as him, your bodies melting together as he released within you. As he laid against you, catching his breath, you could see the setting sun shining through the window. He wasn’t anything like you feared and maybe that's why you trusted him so easily.

“You’ll be happy with me one day, I promise,” He kissed your wet cheeks. 

Part of you hoped you could trust him again because, after all, that mark was forever.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Can you please write something about hotch comforting the reader (male preferably but gender neutral is okay too) whos going through a depressive episode. I just want to be comforted by him right now. Thanks.

I feel like this might be a bit cheesy but I hope you like it anyway, I know the cheesy-ness made me smile anyway lol

Also, I hope you're doing okay, feel free to message me whenever and I will answer as soon as you can. If you're concerned about your mental health, please reach out to a professional, family member or friend, or call a hotline. Also, if you are concerned about your mental health, you are able to go to the emergency rooms in hospitals. But please be safe and remember you have people out there who care about you.

Warnings: It might be a bit cheesy but that could just be me having written it and reread it a few times, depression

Word Count: 502

Aaron knew something was off when he walked in and all the blinds were shut. You were usually a chipper morning person who would open the blinds before the sun was even up. There were two mugs on the kitchen counter which was unusual - you were one to wash up as you went. The bedroom door was open a crack, letting Aaron know that you were in there. He found you wrapped in your duvet, watching friends on your laptop that was propped up a foot away with the screen tilted just so.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked, sitting down next to you, immediately drawing you into an embrace.

“Nothing,” You said with a shrug, “Everything… I don’t know, I just feel meh,”

“Meh?” Aaron asked to confirm, when you nodded, holding back a sniff, he rubbed his hand up and down your arm comfortingly, “Okay, I can work with meh,” You had told Aaron when you first got together nearly two years ago about your depression - Aaron was familiar with the mental illness, obviously. But he had done further research nonetheless. He learnt about treatment, ways close friends and family can support an individual, he asked Reid a load of questions, get a lot of answers, and had come up with a plan of action for when you were feeling shitty.

You didn’t reply, just giving a soft hum as you continued to watch The Falcon and The Winter Soldier. A loud ruffling in the living room caught your attention, but your eyes remained focused on the show until Aaron walked through the door holding a small cardboard box.

“What have you got there?” You asked quietly.

“It’s my ‘meh’ supply kit,” Aaron answered with a smile, giving your shoulder a small nudge as he sat down next to you. “I’ve got chocolate, movies, oh a small flower for you to remind you how much I love you,” Aaron pulled out a small fake rose, “So, just like our love, it will never die,” You both let out a small laugh. “I’ve got some pictures Jack drew you for when you were feeling sad,”

You felt tears collect in the corner of your eyes, “When did you do all of this?”

“When you told me you had depression,” Aaron said with a small shrug, “Could I interest you-” Aaron cut himself off, searching the box for a moment before pulling out a packet of cookies, “In some cookies?”

“You most definitely can,” You replied, grinning as Aaron handed you a packet before taking another out for himself. “But please tell me they haven’t been there the entire time?”

“What? Gross, no,” Aaron said with a laugh, “I got them on the way home, I had a hunch,”

“You have very good instincts,” You said, biting into a cookie.

“So I’ve been told,” Aaron agreed, “Now, how about we watch...” Aaron fumbled around with the box for a moment, “Knives Out and try and solve the murder before they do?”

“Let’s do it,”

[sweetbunnykook]

Devotion (M)

Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff

Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader

Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you. 

Music: X

Winter darkness came early this season. It’s only a few minutes past five and the sky had darkened and streetlights casted a deep orange hue over semi-empty cobblestone paths. The streets are almost silent except for the faint piano music wafting out into the cool air from restaurants and cafes lining the streets. You keep your fists deep in your coat pockets but the numbness persists. You never thought your hometown would look the same after running away at age twenty with nothing but clothes and a roll of cash – his cash – in your bag. Now, at twenty-three, you wondered if you made the right choice, if the yearning that slept deep in your marrows was the reason why you’re glued to the ground in front of the café you had your first kiss in.

You never thought you’d see Taehyung again – assuming he left not long after you did – but here he is, sitting near the bar with his long fingers grazing over the rim of his whiskey glass. He chuckles at something the bartender says, takes a drag from his cigarette, but his eyes are sad and his smile fleeting. His hair grew longer – past the tip of his ears – and he looks overall larger than life. He’s wearing the coat you bought him for his birthday and you’re wearing the knitted plaid scarf you stole from his closet before leaving. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It doesn’t smell like his warm cigarettes and aftershave and it takes all your might to not walk in and put your arms around from behind like you used to do when he comes back from work.

Your heart wants him. It craves him. It has spent many nights in your chest begging you to call him and apologize to your tormentor who kisses you while keeping a noose wrapped around your throat. Your Taehyung, your lover, your captor who gave you everything including his own fears.

He doesn’t know why he is the way he is and you can’t find it in yourself to ask. You just know he was easily scared of losing you. The day you found your intimidating and loving boyfriend in your classmate’s house, hovering over the poor boy with his blood-stained knuckles in the air, was the day you knew your love for him isn’t enough to keep himself from hurting himself or others.

Just a moment longer. One moment. You want to stay in the cold for just a moment longer and admire how beautiful he looks without you even if the bags under his eyes are deep and his downturned lips are set in a permanent frown.

Just one moment. Just until he swings the shot of whiskey down his throat and asks for another.

You exhale into the scarf wrapped around your lips.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name into the cashmere wool.

As if he’d heard you, Taehyung briefly glances up at the bartender and you hold your breath, thinking he would turn his head towards the window. He doesn’t and instead stares straight ahead, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lithe fingers falling into an empty dinner plate. Your heart leaps in your throat when he doesn’t move, the finger over the glass paused, his lips falling just slightly. It’s not until you look over at where he is staring that you stumble back a step, meeting his eyes through the angled mirror that gives him a direct view of your figure through the window. His gaze pins you to the floor; you’ve seen it many times in your dreams but in real life it feels like needles down your throat.

When he moves from his seat you tighten your hand around your handbag and run, your lungs burning in the cold as you stumble through the blanket of snow in your heavy boots. You don’t turn to look, not when you can hear the faint bell of the café door opening and your name hollered in that deep, baritone voice that makes your insides clench. He sounds just as guttural as the day he was covered in blood, shaking his head and whimpering your name when you kneel next to your wounded classmate, annotated papers strewn across the broken furniture.

You turn into an alleyway, looking around to see if there is a place you can hide or crawl under.

You’re stupid.

So fucking stupid.

The footsteps grow louder in the darkness the faster you run into the alleyways. The smell of smoke and dirt making you hold your breath as you turn another corner only to face a brick wall and a line of abandoned bicycles. Screaming for help is no use in this part of town.

Your toes curl in your boots as the footsteps grow louder and louder before stopping just a few feet from where you’re standing. Taehyung can see you tremble softly under the small lightbulb from the back of a dormant restaurant building and he is in disbelief.

You, who had torn his heart out of his chest, had the nerve to run away at the first sight of him.

Again.

“Turn around.” He breathes into the air. His voice is shaking, from anger or from desperation, you can’t tell. “Right now.”

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You certainly can’t run past him. Taehyung has always been stronger and faster, even when you had pulled him away from bullies when you were both children. Even when he had let you ravish him, let him drown in ecstasy underneath as you rolled your heat into his pistoning hips, you can feel his strength. You can feel his capacity to easily turn pleasure into pain.

“Turn the fuck around!”

You wince at his voice, your tear-streaked face disappearing further into the scarf.

When you fail to obey, Taehyung walks forward and grips the top of your arm, his large hand easily wrapping around your limb. He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and neck this time as his whiskey breath hits your face. He breathes in the scent of your perfume when he presses his forehead to the top of your head.

You changed so many things about yourself when you left him. The color of your hair. The shade of lipstick you wore. The dresses you adorned. The thick rimmed glasses you exchanged for contacts. The one thing you didn’t have the heart to change was the perfume he loved to smell in your hair. The faint smell of roses and musk that kept his sanity intact when your eyes lingered too long on another man or when you scream and shout at his reasons for locking you in the bedroom after working so hard to earn your first job.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He whispers, tightening his hold around your body as if you were an illusion that could disappear any moment. “I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere, baby, everywhere…everywhere…”

You remember. The cries your neighbors in Denmark had to endure when Taehyung’s brother informed you that he crawled on his hands and knees in front of your injured classmate’s porch, hoping that if you saw how apologetic he is you might come back. The police had to drag him away on the third night.

“I’m sorry…” you breathe into the scarf, your shaking fingers coming up to grip his caging arms.

Maybe you wanted this to happen. You stayed another second longer, just another second longer, in front of that café window hoping that he would turn his head. You held your hand over the candle when you know it’d hurt you in the end.

“Don’t run away from me again, baby. Don’t you fucking dare or else I’ll go crazy,” he sobs into your hair. His hold is tighter and your heart is bleeding just like it had when you left. “You’re the only one...”

He pulls back and tugs the scarf down to see your face. You, his moon, his love. Your wet cheeks are still full and soft, your eyes as dark as the night sky, and your lips still swollen and wounded from your habit of digging your teeth into your skin when you’re nervous. You sniffle slightly in the cold and in such close proximity you can’t bear to look at him in the eyes until he takes your face in his big, cold hands and angles you to meet his lips.

You taste the cigarettes and the whiskey. Beyond his tongue, you taste his yearning and pain. You taste the nights he spent lying in bed with the dresses you left behind. You taste his appetite to hurt something – someone – when he comes back to a barren living room from work. You taste his seething, heartbreaking anger that enslaved you as the lover who needed to look at him and him only.

Despite the harshness of his tongue, above all cries, you taste home.

…

The apartment would have looked nearly identical as before had he expected your arrival. Stepping in, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol and leftover pizza on the kitchen counter before you witness the broken television and shards of glass from empty picture frames and bottles. There’s new workout equipment in the corner where an old, broken player used to be. Whatever cleaning he had done in the past three years was minimal. The only object that looked cleaner – polished even – than before was the snow globe with two angels in the center. You had gifted the little globe during fifth grade, gathering coins from underneath couches and stealing a few dollars from your father’s wallet.

Taehyung reaches from behind and underneath your armpits to undo the buttons of your coat and pull it down your shoulders. You turn your head away from the living room and let him without complaint, knowing from his trembling fingers that he’s holding back his unease.

He doesn’t have to say anything. Just from the sight of the place you once called home, the broken shards told you everything you needed to know.

Taehyung’s fingers pauses on the scarf around your neck. Moving your back to lean against the wall, you peek at his face through your lashes and look back down again when his piercing eyes meet yours once more.

“If you still loved me, why didn’t you come back earlier? Why leave in the first place?”

He tugs the material free from your neck and wraps the scarf around his hands before hooking it onto the coat rack next to the entrance. The light switch lays just underneath the rack but he shows no desire to reveal the extent of his anger just yet.

“I was scared.”

“Of me?”

You nod. “Of you and of myself. Of us. Together.”

Taehyung doesn’t comment, merely watching your wet lashes glimmer in the darkness as it catches the hue from the streetlights outside the window.

“D-Did you…see anyone else a-after I left?” You ask him in that soft, airy voice that you used to soften his heart when he’d get upset. Old habits die hard.

He squints just slightly before tracing the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his arms coming to cage you further against the wall.

He contemplates lying.

He wanted to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. He wanted to watch your brows come together and fat globs of tears roll down your cheeks as he tells you he would bring women who looked like you in this space and made love to them. He wanted the satisfaction in feeling your fists pound his chest when he tells you he came inside them with a satisfied groan against their ear. He wanted to tell you he’d fall asleep with them in his arms and he’d lick every inch of their skin like he had done to you. It would be all a lie, but he wanted to. He really wanted to fucking tear your heart apart even if it’d feel like he’s tearing his own.

No matter how much he desired it, he couldn’t do that to you. Even when he knows without you telling him that you made love to other men in whatever place you ran off to, he couldn’t do that to you. Because he’s always known he loved you far more than you loved him.

“No, I didn’t.” He says and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’ve only ever been yours.”

Taehyung takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His wristwatch ticks against your skin like a beating heart.

“Take off my coat.” He commands.

You undo the knot around his waist with a small tug and let the black coat fall open. Taehyung hisses underneath his breath when he feels your hands flatten over his pecs and up his shoulders, peeling the heavy coat off of him until he draws his arms down and let the fabric fall onto the ground. He’s broader than you remembered him and so, so much larger in presence like he’s engulfing your entire being whole. He’s wearing a plain white button down with a pressed pair of black dress pants and a matching belt just like the time you left him on such an ordinary day.

His skin is warm underneath the shirt and you can faintly trace his strong arms and shoulders before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek on his chest. You close your eyes and breathe – in and out – gradual and rhythmic and soft. He can hear you whispering his name underneath your breath over and over again like a prayer, like he’s your religion and you found your way back to him to repent for your sins.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you want to stay with him forever when he suddenly takes your wrist from his waist in a vice grip and pulls you into the apartment, not looking back when you stumble and fall on your knees. He half-drags you into the open bedroom and throws you onto the bed before looming over your curled figure as you rub your sore shoulder. The bed smells like you and it takes a moment for you to see your dresses laying across the pillows and blankets until you’re forced to tear your gaze away as Taehyung wraps his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him.

“Tae!” You squeal when he leaves hot, wet kisses down your cheeks, jaw and throat and nips at your skin with his front teeth. Your skin prickles with sweat and your shoulder still aches from his relentless pulling.

The room is stuffy and you struggle to catch your breath with the windows shut and sheer curtains drawn. It’s stuffy most of all with the memories it held of Taehyung bringing you a heating pad during your periods, tending to your hands when you burned yourself making dinner, watching movies with a secondhand projector on the opposite wall, and stealing each other’s popcorn because you always finish your share before the movie starts. The little things that leave such heaviness in your lungs.

Taehyung’s hands are shaky but firm as he reaches underneath your knitted dress and tugs your panties down your hips along with your stockings. Because you’re still wearing your boots, Taehyung doesn’t wait until he buries his face into the crotch of your panties pulled down to your ankles and licks your essence off the fabric onto his tongue, sucking the satin clean before finally unlacing your boots blind with sharp, uneven tugs and peeling them off your ankles. The shoes fall to his feet with a thump and your panties, along with your pantyhose, falls onto the leather not long after.

He doesn’t recognize this attire and it makes him grip the softness of your thighs harder when he imagines yourself or any other man buying you these dresses. It has always been his pleasure to see you dressed in his money. He’d made a promise to be your provider when your parents threw you out of the house as a teen and out of their lives with nothing but a backpack on your shoulders.

As soon as he brings back your luggage from the worn-down hotel you’ve been staying, he’s throwing every dress he doesn’t recognize into the raging fireplace.

Taehyung pops the top button of his shirt and reaches behind him to drag the cotton over his shoulder and head. His skin glows like molten gold and the silver chain hanging from his neck, curving just slightly over his collarbones, sways with his calculated movements. At the end of the chain is the ring from a cracker jack box you’d engraved with a pocketknife.

So many fragments of your relationship with him surrounds you yet you gathered the courage to leave all those years ago. Three long years it took for you to realize you preferred to be in his arms than be free anywhere else. In his shackles you feel safe. In his shackles you feel loved. Your freedom had its own shackles too – putting on pretenses in front of strangers, trying to meet the expectations of men who could never love you like Taehyung does, molding yourself to fit into who you could be rather than who you really are. Taehyung’s shackles feel like jewelry, like luxury, like comfort.

“Did you think about me?” He runs his warm palms up and down your calves, kneeling between your legs as you squirm on the edge of the mattress.

“Every single day. I missed you…I w-wanted to call but…” I was scared you were going to hurt me like you hurt the people around me.

He doesn’t comment and for a moment you wonder if the years of anger he had built inside him will rush forward like water bursting from a dam. It was strange how you are the same, vulnerable person after all these years despite changing nearly every part of your identity.  

When he looks up your heart leaps to your throat. If it were physically possible, Taehyung’s eyes would turn into steel with how hard, how piercing, his gaze is as if he intends to burn holes into your skull. Despite the glare that steals air from your lungs, he’s still beautiful with his uneven eyelids, thick straight eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent cupid’s bow.

“You’re not leaving me again. You hear me? You’re not taking one single step out of this room until I say so. I,” he grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your calves enough to bruise. “don’t fucking trust you anymore. You destroyed us.” His voice is harsh, labored, full of agony. “You destroyed every fucking thing we built together just because I allowed myself to love you.”

“I know, Tae, I know,” you bring a hand over your lips and stifle a sob. Taehyung’s hard gaze falters slightly upon seeing your sadness otherwise his face remains promptly emotionless. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I left, I d-didn’t know what to do. I just…I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.”

He takes his hands off of you and places them on the edge of the mattress next to your knees, gripping the plushness with all his might.

“You’re not leaving me.” He repeats as if he needed to convince himself more than he needs to convince you.

You shake your head. “I won’t. I swear.”

“If you do this again…something bad will happen. You know that, right? I won’t let you walk away. I can’t let you do this to me anymore, baby. I…haven’t I suffered enough?” He asks and it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips towards you. He devours you like he needed you to breathe. It was obvious he was suffocated in this little apartment just as much as you suffocated in the little den back in Denmark, struggling to make it to the next month.

“I love you so much,” you whimper against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’m here, Tae. I’m home.”

Your boyfriend groans as he pushes you back onto the mattress and hovers over your body with his knees on both sides of your hips. You bring your legs back, curling them towards your body before hooking it around his toned waist. The warmth that solely belonged to him, you didn’t know how you survived without it. His tongue roams your entire mouth from the back of your tongue to your teeth. You wince just slightly when his fingers trace your slit underneath your red dress, gathering the wetness over your swollen clit in slow circles then moving down to your throbbing core.

“Is this all for me, baby?” He whispers into your mouth as you snake your fingers into his deep chocolate brown tresses and brush his long hair back.

“All for you. I belong to you, Tae, I always have.”

He tsks, watching your hooded eyes suddenly widen and your mouth fall open into an ‘O’ when he impales his index and middle finger into your soaking pussy to the hilt. You had forgotten how long his fingers are until he’s deep inside, until he pushes so hard against your walls that you can feel him from beneath your skin. Your cervix probes his fingertips back and it makes you squirm and wince as he curls his fingers inside and lightly digs digits into your walls. You’ll take the pain with grace.

Your trembling hands reach down to wrap around his wristwatch, slightly wet with your juices trailing down the length of his palm.

“Please, Tae,” you plead, squeezing his wrist. “I want you.”

His fingers move slowly against your walls, leaving you panting and soaking your dress with sweat. He makes no move to be merciless and instead pushes his fingers incredibly deep until your opening burns. He keeps his fingers inside while he undoes his belt, the clinking of the silver buckle raising goosebumps on your skin. All those times he bent you over the kitchen table and lash you across the ass with the belt for blushing when you enjoyed the attention of another comes rushing back, your insides gripping the contours of his fingers as he moves his fingers up and down. Lewd squelches from between your legs make you turn your head away in embarrassment but Taehyung won’t take your disrespect. Not anymore.  

You’re left unfilled when he slips his wet fingers out and places them in his mouth to suck, eyes rolling back and his smooth naked chest heaving at your scent. He’s brought back to reality when you work to remove his belt, your palm kneading his throbbing hardness as you unzip and peel his pants open as far as they can go to reveal his boxer briefs. His cock bulges through the dark fabric and you can lightly feel the trail of dark pubic hair above the base. In the silence of the room you relish in his labored breaths and the rustle of clothing. It’s a sound you longed to hear when you’d spend numerous night with your fingers in your panties in your lonely, cramped apartment, fingertips rubbing circles around your clit until you leak all over the vibrating dildo shoved inside.

Taehyung pulls the belt free from his hips and makes you sit up to wrap the belt around your neck like a scarf before lacing the leather back into the buckle and then tightening the loop. He places two fingers underneath where the belt meets your neck to make sure you’re safe. Even with anger radiating off every pore, he cares about you, loves you, wants to please you.

“Okay?”

You nod, palming him and wrapping your fingers around his thick, pulsing length leaking pre-ejaculate through the fabric. He admires the need in your tear-filled eyes and twists the length of his belt around his fingers before pulling you up, earning a whimper as your hands immediately move to your makeshift collar.

The fact that other men had seen you in this position kills him.

Taehyung pulls the thin straps down your arms and peel your dress down to your ankles. You’re not wearing a brassiere and he suppresses a smile. You’d often lounge wearing his shirts in the living room, your perky little nipples peeking through the cotton, all ready for his greedy mouth to latch onto.

When you kick the dress away from your ankles and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, Taehyung takes the chance to kick off his shoes. He’s too impatient to remove his slightly tight slacks and black socks, choosing to give all his attention to you instead.

“You’re really here,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in remembrance of you over the years.

It started with kisses in cafes while studying together; at the time, he hardly knew how to kiss and knew less about the feeling deep in his belly. Kisses turned into roaming hands, his fingers disappearing under your panties and yours under his jeans. You lost your virginity to him – and his to you – in the backseat of his car after graduating in which half the time was him struggling to put on a condom while your laughs made him giggle along. He had always been yours, and you his.

You couldn’t accept that Taehyung is no longer the boy you used to know. While he accepted your changes and made peace with your mercurial ways, you couldn’t do the same for him.

“I want to show you how much I missed you,” you bring his hands to your face and rub your cheeks into his palms like a kitten.

Taehyung melts, his tired smile plastered on his face as he pushes the dresses on the mattress away and lays next to you. You know what this meant. He wants to watch you come undone, watch you mold into his body as your spine arches and he can tighten the belt around your neck as you spill onto the sheets. You reach down and slide your hands under his pants, gasping slightly when your hands wrap around the girth of his cock. His hips jolt when you run your thumb over his weeping tip and smear precum down his thickness. Taehyung turns you away from him, his perspired chest sticking to your back, and brings your hips towards his lap until he can slip his cock between your folds.

Heat blossoms on your cheeks when he pants lightly in your ear, breath hitching as he slips the tip of his cock into your entrance before ramming his entire length without warning.

“Ah!” You grip his iron arms secured around your waist. He pushes his cock further until he’s fully nestled in your warmth.

“Ung, baby,” he hisses, sliding his left arm underneath your head to reach the end of his leather belt. He wraps the leather around his fingers twice and brings the belt back to him as he pushes your spine away from him in an arch.

He begins moving, his hand around your waist slipping down to your clit as he rubs coaxing circles while pulling the collar back to compress your jugular. In the dark, cold bedroom Taehyung makes you feel every inch of himself inside your starved pussy. Your vision is filled with spots and every nerve in your body curls and bows to his carnal hunger.

“Please…please, Tae, please…” You beg as he pounds without giving you the luxury to adjust to his thickness, tight balls clenching further as he grinds his hips into your little hole.

You cum immediately, legs twitching as you sob his name and curse under a single breath, the wetness from your folds coating the base of Taehyung’s twitching, loaded cock. When you gurgle and cough, he loosens his grip on the belt and listens to you heave, watching your arms pull you up and away from him as you get on your hands and knees to take bigger breaths. You palm your lower abdomen with the heel of your hand, the ache making your head turn towards the pitch-black bathroom connected to the bedroom. Not only did his penetration burned your entire lower body, but you can also feel the pressure inside screaming at you to run to the bathroom.

You underestimated how cruel Taehyung can be. With teeth gritted, he suppresses the need to cum, and bring your hips back towards him to slip his cock back into your battered pussy. You’re tighter after cumming and it takes every ounce of his energy to not spill his load inside then and there.

“T-Taehyung I need to go to the b-bathroom,” you pant as you sweat from the pressure building even more in your lower region.

He doesn’t reply, only spreading your legs further with his knees and grip your waist before impaling you onto his cock over and over again until you slump back down to the mattress.

“It aches,” you breathe as Taehyung throws his head back and closes his eyes, plunging with the ferocity of a man possessed. He finds the end of his belt curled on your back and pulls, yanking your neck back and curving your entire body to take his length. He hardly prepped you enough and he did so with purpose, with the intent to make you release in more ways than one. “T-Tae, I can’t…Taehyung!”

His hips move quicker and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes along with his deep, guttural groans.

“Give it all to me, baby,” he snaps, falling forward to pin your body beneath his as he pistons his hips like a demented animal. You can breathe now but your vision is still hazy and your breathing labored. You can’t move your arms with Taehyung’s hands wrapped around your wrists in a vice grip above your head. “Do it for me.”

When your legs convulse underneath and a scream rips from your throat, Taehyung leans his damp forehead on your shoulder and spills his seed inside. You swear you can feel every lash of his load against your walls. Your ears ring just as you reach your high once more, neck arching back, nose in his hair as you spill your wetness over the sheets along with warm urine that stung as it leaks down to the dresses below. This was his intent all along – to claim you and to humiliate you into accepting that he will take your body as he wishes.

Still, the embarrassment makes you bury your face into your arms and sob.

“You did so well for me, baby,” Taehyung exhales against your jaw and takes your earlobe in his mouth, suckling gently before running his wet tongue over the shell of your ear. You squirm in his grasp, feeling as if your bones had turned into jelly.

Taehyung reaches down and runs his fingers gently over your pussy, rubbing the wetness over your pubic curls before leaning back on his heels to look down at the soiled dresses beneath your thighs. The warmth of your urine no longer lingers and instead you’re left shivering with the collar still tight around your neck.

He takes a clean dress from behind and wipes your fluids from his semi-hard cock and thighs before wiping between your inner thighs and folds. You’re quiet, toes curled as he works his way down to your knees where your urine trailed. He rolls you to the side, gently, and gathers the wet dresses in his arms before stepping away from the bed and dumping the mound of fabric into a half-empty laundry basket.

He then takes a towel from the shelf and disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the faint sound of water running as you reach up to undo the belt from around your neck and let the leather fall onto the floor with a clatter. Taehyung would prefer to remove it himself, but he doesn’t complain when he comes back with a warm, damp towel and wipes your cheeks and neck before roughly wiping down your body.

The smell of sweat is heavy in the air but it feels rather comforting to know you can be disgusting with him and still wake up loved in the morning.

You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling until Taehyung pulls you up to the pillows once the top half of the bed is clean, molding his body to yours as he buries his face in your hair. He inhales slowly, arms locking around your body and keeping you caged inside his embrace. Only when you lean into his chest does he bring a blanket over your body and his and tuck you in.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, eyelids heavy.

The room is even quieter than before. It feels serene under the blanket since nothing strange has ever happened when you’re safe in his arms.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your fingers twirling his necklace on his chest. “So…so much.”

Taehyung’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I never left. I’ve always been here.”

You blink, training your eyes on the broken chess pieces scattered on the floor, and close your eyes. No more lonely nights. No more haunting dreams.

…

‘What’s that?’ Taehyung pouts when you stand in front of him with a small box behind. Every time he attempts to look around your figure, you turn to hide it behind your puffy white skirt. He was really starting to get pissed off and the playground is growing louder with more lousy children interrupting his time on the slides with you. The fifth grade class is the largest in the school after all and there’s only so many slides to go around.

‘You have to guess!’ You insist, keeping the box behind you still.

Taehyung’s frown deepens and then he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, turning away in a haughty manner with his nose turned to the sky.

‘Whatever it is, I don’t care.’ He says, stepping closer to the slides, but regrets it immediately when your eyes fill with tears and your hands fall to the side. You know he hates being teased, but he knows you love to keep him waiting.

He looks down at your hand to see a box with a picture of a snow globe plastered on the cardboard.

His mouth opens and close like a fish as he contemplates apologizing but he ends up walking up to you and putting his sticky hands on your face instead, tilting your face up to him. You don’t say anything before dropping the present on his shoes and dashing away, maneuvering through the monkey bars and sandboxes with your skirt floating around your knees.

Taehyung kneels and takes the box in his hand, shaking the package until the globe falls into his palm. There it is, the two angels and the glitter particles swirling around them, the very object that he admired in the book fair yesterday. He turns the globe around in his hands, careful, until he reaches the writing written sloppily with a sharpie pen on the glass.

‘I like you’ 

[marvels-things]

Invisible - Part 2

Avengers x teen!OC

When Angelese is moved into the tower she's frightened and closed off. With the ability to turn invisible it's not hard to hide from the things that scare her, but when she starts to bond with the team she starts to realize how nice it feels to have a family.

Part 1

Steve Rogers’ gaze lingered on the door that Natasha lead the girl out through. His eyes shifted back towards the remainder of the group in the common room, most members already throwing questions at the secretive Director. 

 Sam was among the loudest voices (really it was just him and Tony hurling out questions), “So, I vote we start on how the hell did she just turn invisible!” 

The room quieted as Fury took a seat on the nearby chair, “Angelese was found by- Where the hell is Barnes?” He cut himself off. Tony was quick to dramatically roll his eyes, “The Tin Soldier is locked away in his room. Per usual.” 

Steve called out to the AI, “Friday, let Buck know that we’re having a meeting in the common room.” It only took a few seconds for the doors of the stairwell to swing open and the former Winter Soldier.

The blue eyed man took a seat on Steve’s left, a moody look gracing his features, “ If this is an intervention I swear I’ll throw Stark right out the window this time.”

Clint stifled a laugh, quickly chocking it back when Wanda delivered a slap to the back of his head. Vision spoke before anyone else got the chance to speak, “It seems that Director Fury has admitted a child into the team. Mr.Stark slapped her across the head so Natasha is with her getting ice.”

Bucky sent an accusing look towards the billionaire who abruptly let out a groan as he poured himself a drink at the counter, “It wasn’t a slap and I didn’t mean to do it in the first place! Can we all just let Nick explain here?“

Everyone turned to Fury who continued speaking, “Angelese’s foster parents contacted SHIELD and insisted that we come take her. At first we just ignored it, but Agent Hill did some digging and out that that girl has been in 14 foster homes in the past six months, she kept getting sent back to the orphanage because she 'wasn't normal'...That was just a few weeks ago and she hasn’t said more than a few sentences to us. With her specific set of skill, she could be a great addition.”

Bruce had remained quiet for a majority of the interaction, stopping to raise a hand to his throat, “What’s the scar on her neck from? t looks like a burn.”

“In one of the homes the kid’s foster father made her wear a bell when he found out what she could do. Thought it was a fun party trick to show his friends. It cheap rubber and it just kept rubbing into her neck everytime she moved.“

“She’s a kid, Nick.“ Steve said, his tone firm.

Fury cast the super soldier a lazy look, “She’s a girl that can turn invisible and not make a sound. She’s a ghost. Can you even imagine what her skills can help in the field?”

Now Clint spoke, “She’s not a weapon, Boss. She also doesn’t seem like a person that would be comfortable in the field.”

“That’s why I brought her here! Break her out of that shell, train her. Stark, introduce her to the Spider kid, see if he can make friends.“

Tony let out a snort, “Peter tried talking to a girl he bumped into when we were training in the park and I’ve never seen anybody crash and burn that hard in my life.”

It wasn’t long before Natasha entered the room again, Anglese following behind in a timid manner, holding a pouch of frozen peas to the side of her head. 

The team watched in silence, Natasha going to speak to Tony at the other end of the room. Anglese stood like a deer in the headlights, her eyes moving down the line of people staring at her. 

Fury rose up from the couch, stretching before making his way to the elevator, “Well, I came by to check on you, Angelese, and now that you are all actually introduced now, I’ll leave you all to get to know each other.”

The elevator doors closed before Angelese could utter a response, her mouth hanging slightly open. 

Wanda walked forward, “Hello, I’m Wanda Maximoff, It’s nice to meet you.” She offered a kind smile to Angelese, one that was slightly returned in a stifled manner. The older girl carried on with a soft smile, “That is Sam, Clint, Bruce, Steve, James, and Tony is speaking with Natasha. My brother, Pietro, is away at the moment but he should be back today soon.”

The men gave their greeting as Wanda pointed to them, trying to look as uninimidating as they could. 

Angelese lowered the frozen peas from her face as her appearance flickered away. Steve cleared his throat, assuming the girl was still there, “Angelese, we heard about what’s been going on at the foster homes and you should know that you’re safe here. All of us here are a little different.”

With Natasha and Tony still talking in the corner, Wanda held her hand out to the space Angelese was last seen. It took a few seconds before Wanda felt a hand grasp hers.

As Wanda led the girl to the couch, conversations were built back up within the group. Since they figured she wouldn’t like all the attention directed at her. Instead, when Wanda sat to the left of Sam, she left the girl an open between her and Bucky. 

Angelese stayed invisible for a minute or so until her form returned. When she was visible again, the team watched from the corners of their eyes as she examined the soldiers metal arm. 

Bucky peered down at her with a slight look of panic, she must be afraid of it, he thought. 

Steve leaned around Bucky with a gentle smile, taking a moment to slip his hand into Bucky’s flesh one and give a soft squeeze. Natasha and Tony rejoined the group, Tony being the first to bombard the girl, “So Casper, is invisibility you move? Got any laser eyes or something?”

Angelese stared at the billionaire before lowering her gaze to her lap, shaking her head no. The Stark didn’t let her silence deter him from speaking, “Alright, well since you’ll be staying here I’m guessing you’ll need some clothes and stuff? And since you’ll be training, Natasha will start training you in a group with the twins.”

The female assassin gave a smile, “And if you need anything son’t be afraid to ask any of us, Friday is also attached to Stark’s credit card so do with that information what you will.” She added a wink with her last statement. 

Angelese nodded before her voice was heard, “Thank you.” It was a very quiet sound, one that would have been missed if they weren’t paying attention. 

The others smiled and continued on with their conversations. 

[certifiedskywalker]

Breathing Room - Bucky Barnes

Thanks to Sharon’s new profession, you have a chance to catch your breath in Madripoor. Though, Bucky never fails at stealing it away.

WARNINGS: drinking (?) and tensiooooonnn

“I’ve never seen him look at anyone like how he looks at you. Except for Steve.”

“It’s not like that,” you persisted as you shook your head.

Ready to prove your counterpoint, you traced the path of Sharon’s pointed gaze. It landed on Bucky who, amidst the party of stiff art connoisseurs and writhing criminals, looked strangely at ease. When you let your gaze linger, you saw him shift against the far wall he was leaned on. His eyes found yours in an instant as if he had been glancing in your direction before. As if he already knew where you were stood.

Under the colored lights that seemed to flash in tune with the music, Bucky’s eyes, once bright and blue, were dark as he focused on you. Despite the heat of all those that danced, you found yourself frozen. A chill rolled up your spine and threatened to overtake you, thrust you in the depths of Bucky’s stare. Only the sound of a knowing, humming sigh freed you.

“Uh-huh, sure. It’s not like that,” Sharon echoed sarcastically. You glared at her as she moved out from behind the bar. She passed a glass of dark liquor over to you with a grin. Gently, you nudged the drink back across the counter and shook your head.

“I’m on a mission.”

“So is he,” Sharon quipped as she tipped her head towards Bucky. Steaming embarrassment rose along your skin as you glanced back over towards the super-soldier. He was no longer fixed on you. He instead squinted at Zemo as the Baron broke it down in the most awkward, display of dance you had ever seen.

“Yeah, and I’m not it.”

“You are, you just won’t admit it,” Sharon sipped at her drink before she continued. “The way he watches you...he’s ready to take a bullet for you.”

“He already has,” you sighed, gesturing to your left arm. “Vibranium, remember? He’s covered me more than once.”

“Couldn’t forget it.”

“Also, he stares at everyone.”

Sharon scoffed, a light laugh slipping from her lips. “Sure, but not like that.”

“Do you really think...he’s hard to read. I don’t know if he really means to…”

“You’re right, he might not mean to look at you like you’re his lifeline, but it doesn’t change the fact that he does.” Sharon downed the rest of her drink and rested the empty glass on the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on a mission too: to sell some art and information.”

With a wink, she sauntered away, towards a group of individuals clad in formal wear. You watched her go for a moment longer before you shifted your gaze to sneak a glance at Bucky. When you did, you found he was already looking at you, dark eyes fixed on your face. It was tough to tell in the red tones that shone down on him, but you thought you saw Bucky’s mouth quirk the slightest bit upward. Though, you did not stare long enough to see if it morphed into a full-fledged smile.

You were too aware of how your chest tightened to let yourself linger on him. Especially with Sharon’s teasing, her insights, you could not find it in yourself to stare back. Not then, not when there was a chance Bucky felt the same as you had for years, which meant both of you were too stubborn, or too wary, to say anything about it. Even the thought of it knocked the air from your lungs. You eyed the liquor Sharon had poured out for you, considered downing it to distract yourself from the new wave of nerves that washed over you. Before you stretched your fingers out towards the glass, a sudden warmth brushed against your left shoulder.

“You gonna drink that?”

You turned and saw Bucky, his side nearly pressed against yours. The scent of the cologne Sharon had forcibly sprayed on him before the party filled your nose. Fragrant balsam and clove: warm, welcoming, and enough to numb your racing thoughts. When you didn’t respond to his question, Bucky leaned in closer to you with furrowed brows.

“Y/N?” Up close, you noticed just how clear his eyes were, how wholly focused on you he was. Silently you hoped he didn’t detect the shuddering breath you took.

“Yeah,” you said as tipped your head towards the drink, “it’s all yours.”

Bucky nodded at you as he reached for the glass. As he moved, his gaze remained fixed on you and you could not tear your eyes away. The moment the lights flashed an almost natural white, you swore you saw hints of pink on Bucky’s cheeks; but before you could truly tell, the fixtures flickered between blue and red. As Bucky brought the glass to his lips, you forced your eyes to the granite countertop.

To busy your mind, distract yourself from the lure of Bucky’s presence, you traced your fingertips along some of the natural patterns on the stone’s smoothed surface. It was only when you heard the clinking of glass against the countertop over the music that you felt enough courage to face the man stood at your side. Bucky’s eyes were still trained on you when you looked back up at him, full of that same attention Sharon had noted earlier.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before,” you remarked, “or relaxed.”

“I’m not relaxed,” Bucky said, shouting slightly to be heard over the music. You smiled as he leaned in closer to add, “I don’t think I’ve ever been. Not since….”

“The forties?”

Bucky averted his eyes from you at your teasing question and turned his gaze to the floor. “Well, yeah, honestly.”

The smallness of his voice made your heart ache. Without a moment’s thought, you reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. At your touch, Bucky met your eyes again, and then you saw it. It must have been the glint that Sharon picked up on before. A ferocity, but not one that frightened you. It was a ferocity born of passion, the same, deeply rooted feeling that forced the air from your lungs when you let yourself stare at Bucky for too long.

The passion that you had kept bottled in your chest since you met him, the real Bucky, not the Winter Soldier. It had taken so long for you to truly see him and he was just finally seeing himself. Until the party and Sharon’s observations, you hadn’t realized that maybe he was seeing you too. How long had you been blind to each other, giving each other breathing room when all you wanted was to be close?

“Honestly, I think you look good,” you said, with a confidence that surprised you.

Bucky cocked his head to the side slightly, with the faintest hints of a smile on his lips. “Really? I don’t...it’s been...I haven’t been to a party since the forties. I haven’t danced…”

“You look great, Bucky,” you pressed as you let your hand fall from his shoulder. Bucky blinked at you a few times as if trying to compute your compliments. You gave him a soft smile, an expression that he, shockingly, returned.

“So do you, Y/N.”

The way he said your name sent another chilling shiver down your spine and tightened your chest. Your breath grew ragged and you became suddenly self-conscious about the volume of your breathing. Though, when you noticed how Bucky’s chest rose and fell a bit more rapidly than before, your worries faded. They melted into the music and the smell of his, Sharon’s, cologne until all you felt was warmth and light.

“Do you want to danc-”

Before Bucky could ask his question in full, a drunken party-goer knocked into your back and sent you leaning off your stool. As you tipped forward into him, Bucky opened his arms to catch you. The cool metal of his left arm dug into your waist as your hands braced against his chest. Once you found your footing, you glanced up at Bucky.

“Are you alright?” His eyes scanned over your face as he asked. Yet, all you really heard was Sharon’s voice: he’s ready to take a bullet for you. Ready to fight for you too.

“I’m fine.”

Despite your assertion, Bucky looked past you and towards the person that had nearly knocked you over. For a moment, you saw the man that Zemo had ordered around in the Power Broker’s bar. He wasn’t your Bucky. The passion had turned to anger in his eyes. Quickly, you trailed your hands up from his chest to cup the sides of his face.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” you forced Bucky’s face to turn until his eyes found yours. “I’m fine. Are you fine?”

Bucky didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared down at you, his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. Gently, you rubbed the pads of your thumbs along the peaks of his cheekbones. At the contact, eyes glinted and you knew he was the Bucky you loved again. The scruff that lined his jaw and grew up the sides of his face prickled and tickled the skin of your palm as he drew in closer.

Suddenly, there was no more breathing room; but you were so wonderfully okay with that. Each breath you each took mingled between you until there was no space at all. Bucky’s lips brushed softly against yours, a tentative ask for permission before you closed the gap. He tasted like whiskey as you kissed and, when his arms tightened around your waist, you felt that you might drown in him.

You were prepared to do just that when you heard someone loudly clear their throat. With a small gasp for air, you and Bucky parted and turned your attention away from the other. Sam, clad in Sharon’s spare turtle neck, stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing grin on his lips. Your hands slipped from Bucky’s face and the super soldier’s arms went a little more slack around your waist.

“So, if you two are done, Sharon found Nagel.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, “we’ll...follow you.”

Sam glanced at you then Bucky and back again. “You really gotta work on your timing. We’re on a mission, guys. Seriously.”

Before you or Bucky could comment, Sam started off towards Zemo and Sharon. You glanced up at Bucky who seemingly sensed your eyes and looked back at you.

“He’s not wrong.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

[darling-i-read-it]

Coincidence

Karl Heisenberg x Winters!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: spoilers for re8

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this love! It was fun to write lol

Requested, by anon, Would you be cool with writing reader being Ethan’s sister who’s in a relationship with Heisenberg? Maybe she travels abroad and when Ethan gets to the village and survives all those games of danger and death Karl puts him through, he’s surprised to meet her at the factory. She’s like “Remember all those months ago when I told you I met someone? Yeah, this is him. This is awkward, but don’t kill each other.” Just something with Heisenberg and Ethan’s sister! Reader please

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Ethan walked up behind Mia and put down a plate for her. She smiled up at him kindly as she continued to feed Rose who was in her little high chair. Ethan walked back to the counter to make himself a plate.

It was a nice night in the Winters household. Hopefully Rose would go to sleep that night and stay asleep. It was what he and Mia were working towards. Ethan went to open the fridge to grab himself a drink when a picture caught his eye.

It was a picture of you, his sister and him. You were pushing him over the edge of an inflatable pool. It was a couple of years old and he was fairly certain he hadn’t put it up there. He took it off the fridge, getting a closer look.

“Did you put this up?” he asked. Mia turned around a bit and nodded.

“Yeah. She called, I figured it would remind me to tell you. She said to call her at the number on the back of the picture.” He flipped the picture around where a few numbers had been scrawled in Mia’s handwriting. He hadn’t heard from you in weeks. You were traveling abroad and often moving around.

He quickly walked to the phone and called the number. It rang a couple of times and then the line picked up.

“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. He had a slight drawl to his deep tone.

“Hi, is Y/N there? This is her brother, Ethan.” The man hummed and seemed to get up as he passed the phone.

“Ethan!” you said into the phone. He let out a sigh of relief.

“You haven’t called in weeks, I was starting to get really worried.”

“I’m sorry I’ve just been moving a lot. But lucky for you, I’ve found a place I think I’ll stay at for a while.” Ethan glanced at Mia and she shrugged, unable to hear your conversation. He put the phone on speaker.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! I’m staying in a village in Europe, obviously. It’s kind of remote but I love it here. And also,” you said and then there was some shuffling on your end, “I met someone,” you whispered. Ethan raised his eyebrows.

“How long have you known this person?” You scoffed.

“Relax Ethan. I can handle myself. He has a wonderful place-” There was a loud crash and then some yelling in the background. “It’s very adventurous.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Call me at this number alright? I have to go and check on him.” Ethan eyed Mia who gave him a skeptical look.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye!” He hung up the phone and Mia just stared at him.

“She seems to be having fun,” she commented. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

=====

You woke up slowly, the sounds of the factory around you. It was a comforting sound. This was the most comfortable bed that you had slept in in a long time. You had been going from hotel to hotel and not often were they pretty ones. Now you had a place to rest your head for an indefinite amount of time.

“Fucking shut your mouth,” a voice came quietly. You lifted your head to find Karl sitting at the edge of the bed. He was clearly tinkering with something that didn’t agree with him. He was shirtless, his back muscles flexing as his shoulders moved around. You watched him for a moment fondly. He had just woken up so he wasn’t sweating yet. A rare occurrence.

You sat up and put your hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to you and smirked a bit.

“Morning buttercup,” he said, his slight accent drawling.

“Good mornin.”

“Your brother called,” he muttered, turning back to what he was tinkering with. You watched his fingers work. You had no idea what he was doing but he really really did. You loved to watch him build things.

“I’ll call him back in a minute.” You rested your chin on his shoulder.

“He sounded rather annoyed that you hadn’t called him.”

“He can be annoying.” You leaned back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “I think I’m going to go out to the village today.” He looked over at you cautiously.

“You know how I feel about that.”

“I know but I want to get out. It’s either that or I go to Donna’s.” He scoffed.

“You aren’t getting anywhere near that psycho doll.”

“Village it is. You won’t even notice that I’m gone, I promise.”

“I’ll notice.” You smiled a bit and slid off the bed to get ready for the day. Soon he would be gone working on his bigger machines and you would be mingling with the locals. A fun day.

====

It had been a couple of months since you pretty much moved in with Karl. He loved the company and he actually really loved you. Recently Ethan hadn’t been picking up your calls. You figured he had just gotten busy, you didn’t mind too much. He had a whole wife and daughter to take care of now. He was bound to be busy.

You loved the village and the factory. Karl had made you stay at the factory for the last couple of days, saying that Mother Miranda had done something to the village. He already seemed touchy and you had no interest in pushing it.

You sat in one of the rooms at the top of the factory. You had a spare of Karl’s key on a chain around your neck as you sat on a metal table in there.

You were flipping through Karl’s many notes on his subjects. You liked to read them sometimes and write cute notes as well. Plus, sometimes his notes were really funny. You flipped through one when you heard the door to the room open.

You looked up, expecting to see Karl but instead met the gaze of your brother, Ethan. Your eyes went wide as your face showed the shock you were feeling. You stood up quickly and put the papers down.

“Ethan?!” you asked. He lowered his gun. He had blood all over his clothes and dirt on his face. He looked rugged.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Did Chris bring you here? Are you fucking Miranda?”

“What? No, no I-”

Karl opened the other door and walked inside leasirly. At the sight of the two of you his eyes went wide.

“I thought you were in bed,” Karl said, clearly shocked.

“No, I’m not. What is Ethan doing here? Oh no, you’re the Ethan he’s been complaining about?! Oh fuck,” you said, mind reeling. Karl had told you that this guy named Ethan was causing problems but it’s a common name. You barely even thought twice about it.

“You didn’t answer me!” Ethan said, gun now raised at Karl.

“Listen Ethan, I’m not Miranda. You know that guy I was telling you about?” Ethan’s face just about fell in amazement. He shook his gun that was still pointing at Karl.

“Heisenberg?! You’re dating Heisenberg?!” You cleared your throat a bit.

“Karl, this is my brother Ethan. Ethan, this is my boyfriend...Karl. Please don’t kill each other.” They were both shaking their heads at you.

“He has my daughter! He tried to kill me!”

“It was all a misunderstanding,” you promised. Karl gave you a look and interjected himself.

“It would have helped had you brought pictures of your brother,” he said. You hit his arm and he gave you a look.

“I can’t believe this. Karl give him my niece back.”

“She’s in four pieces Y/N,” he told you.

“What?!”

“It’s a long story,” Ethan grumbled.

“We can figure this out,” you said. “Put your weapons down and I will talk us through this.” They both gave you a look. “Alright, good. Now start from the beginning.”