#the way his jaw clenches shaky hands the agony behind his eyes

[glorified-phantom]

a/n: another heizou fanfic! This man has been on my mind and I can't help but write for him again!

pairings: Heizou x Criminal! Male! Reader

cw: Overstimulation, use of toys, mean Heizou, ooc heizou, bondage(?), slight cock stepping, sadism/masochism, top heizou, bottom reader

“ Alright, I’ll be heading off now! Don’t miss me too much! “ The young man exclaimed, giving a huge wave to the Traveler as they parted ways, his smile big and bright, like it always had been.

-

You hated Shikanoin Heizou. He was irritating, to say the least. Despite being a criminal mastermind yourself, his antics would annoy you to no end. That was why you had set up a trap for him, one that would secure him as your prisoner while you pranced around Inazuma doing various deeds. The plan was foolproof, you were sure of it. But now that you thought of it, perhaps you had been the fool all along. You should’ve noticed the signs that information got out, you should’ve noticed the little, subtle changes to your trap, and you should’ve never gotten too cocky. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been in the situation you’re in now.

-

Heizou hummed as he made his way toward an abandoned shack on the outskirts of serai island, twirling a ring of keys on his finger as he took in the sight of the area, a variety of purple scattered throughout as electricity buzzed gently in the air, making some of his hair stand on end. The detective walked with a skip in his step as he stopped at the front door, inserting a key into the keyhole before twisting, a small ‘ click ‘ sound being heard. 

“ I’m home~! “ He called out, looking around the almost barren shack, grinning when his eyes caught his object of interest. He gently shut the door behind him and locked it as he placed the keys into his pocket. His green eyes lit up as he looked down at a puddle on the floor which he had stepped on, a small tsk coming from him. “ You really made a mess, didn’t you? “ He asked, receiving no response before shrugging and squatting down, face-to-face with the only other person in the shack, you.

Long, shaky breaths left you as your legs shook, trying to hold yourself up. Your wrists were restrained above your head by a rope from the ceiling while you had multiple toys strapped to you, one even inside you. Every time your legs gave in, the rope would dig into your skin, making it difficult for blood to flow there and causing extensive pain, which was why you were on the brink of collapsing. The detective was a cruel man, his hollow laughter filling your ears as you tried to ignore it, unfocused eyes looking at anywhere but him. Heizou’s hand came up to your cheek to stroke it, his gentle touch contradicting the one from his other hand as he tugged at your cock, bringing your whole body forward to him as well as making hot pain rush up your entire body, a gasp escaping you in the process. 

“ I asked you a question, didn’t I? “ He muttered, low and downright menacing as his soft touches changed and he was now grabbing you by the jaw, forcing you to meet his dark, narrowed eyes. A whine came from you as you tried your best to remember the question, your memories murky, even though he asked that question a minute ago. With a huff at your silence, the auburn-haired man stood straight up and walked a few steps back, he brought one of his hands into his pocket and took out a small rectangular device, the slider on it currently at its lowest setting. Your eyes widened at the object as you bit the inside of your cheek, preparing for more pain than pleasure as his finger slid the slider up so that it was now on its highest setting, ten.

A choked sob left your mouth as you felt intense vibrations on your cock, the sensation bringing agony to your lower half as fresh tears fell down your previously tear-stained cheeks. From the corner of your blurred vision, you could see the man walk around you, observing the way your hands clenched and unclenched, the way your legs trembled and the way your entire body seemed to shake as an orgasm struck you like lightning, Instead of feeling pure ecstasy like you were supposed to, you only felt red, hot anguish as you screamed, your voice coming out raw and raspy. 

You didn’t realise it, but he had stopped in front of you when you came, droplets of white which you shot out landing on his foot as he blankly stared, face unreadable while your eyes met with his. He lifted a hand as your flinched, tired eyes closing as you expected a beating, only for him to gently lift your chin with his finger. You could feel him press a kiss to the corner of your lips as you exhale through your nose, his lips burning your skin. “ Hey now, “ he started, breath fanning against the side of your face, “ it seemed as though you got something on me just now. “Your confused eyes said everything as he motioned downwards, your gaze following. Ah, his foot which was covered in droplets of white. He removed his finger from you before making his way behind you, you could feel his warmth by your back as the restraints on your wrists went from unbearably tight to loose before you crashed onto the ground, your arms struggling to hold yourself up as your entire body trembled. 

You looked absolutely pathetic, soft pants coming out from you as the dildo in your ass came out due to your fall, covered with a thin sheen of liquid as your hole clenched around thin air, too used to having it stuck in you that now you felt empty, yet you were also relieved. Heizou gave you a few seconds to collect yourself, you finally managed to get your body up as you leaned against one of the four walls, its coolness seeping into your warm back and making you shudder. You had your eyes shut, glad that you could at least take a break now, well, as much as a break you could get. The vibrations on your sex did not lessen at all but you were too preoccupied with the sudden drop to notice, but now that you weren’t doing anything much, its vibrations became apparent as you came again, a silent cry leaving you as your fluids covered your tired legs. 

The soft tapping of his footsteps approached you as you opened both your eyes to stare up at him. Heizou bent down to face you, a gentle smile on his face as he reached for your cock, a sigh fleeing you as you readied yourself for another round of pure torture. Only for him to remove the toy on it, as tenderly as possible, doing the same to the others that were strapped onto you. 

To say that you were dumbfounded was an underestimation as you watched him like a hawk, though you knew that you had no power to stand up to him. Not when your wrists were red and you could barely feel your hands, not when your legs were overworked and shaking, not when every part of you shook at the lightest touch and certainly not when your cock was still red and throbbing, leaking out its translucent liquid. You collected your confidence as you decided to rasp out a question which had been flooding your mind since the beginning, “ why? “ 

The once gentle smile on his face had long since faded as his eyes peered at you, face devoid of anything before he pushed himself forward, caging you to the wall, the only emotion was in his eyes, his intense gaze making you quiver. “ You fascinate me. I’ve heard about your deeds, no other detective in Inazuma could catch you and when I heard that you had planned to seize me for foiling your plans, I had to turn the table on you didn’t I? “ Heizou’s usual grin returned as he leaned in and spoke softly near the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps up your neck, “ after all, no one’s been able to outsmart Shikanoin Heizou. But you had come close, too close. And now, I suppose its time for your retribution, isn’t it? “ 

With that, he stood up and pressed the sole of his sandals to your burning cock, a groan escaping you as he gazed down on you, his face switching from grinning to unfeeling in the blink of an eye as he applied more pressure, your pained sounds and expression fueling him. 

-

You despised Shikanoin Heizou, but, you also couldn’t help but love him. Because, just as you had caught his obsession and attention, so had he to you.

[ronsenburg]

it’s gotten to the point where I write 400 words and then have to celebrate because that’s FOUR HUNDRED WORDS and better than nothing:

This is the way it ends—at least, this is the way Sylvain remembers it. 

The bridge is washed in a flood of unnatural red light; the sirens have been wailing in the background for so long now that Sylvain has stopped hearing them all together. He’s on the floor, staring up at a ceiling he doesn’t think he’s ever actually looked at before. There’s not much to see, just seamless panels of smooth, shiny metal arching out of sight, until—out of the corner of his eye, the flash of a combadge, golden shoulders, jet black hair. 

Sylvain turns his head just a fraction of a degree to the left. It hurts. 

He can’t move his right arm. He hadn’t realized until now, in this exact moment, when the only coherent thoughts he can manage rapidly bounce between the aforementioned oh god pain and, even less helpfully, how unfair it is that Felix is still managing to be so goddamn beautiful with sweat and grime plastering his dark hair across his forehead. Sylvain wants so badly to reach up and tuck the one long piece back behind Felix’s ear, maybe wipe away that streak of soot from under his left eye. Something romantic. Instead, his fingers twitch uselessly somewhere near his side. 

And that should make him panic, shouldn’t it? A limb not responding the way his brain asks it to? 

“So it’s that bad, huh?” It comes out clumsy, barely more than a mumble, like someone has shoved a bag of cotton balls under his tongue. And that feels just like the kind of really bad hangover he hasn’t had since he gave up Aldebaran whiskey. Head injury, too. Got it. 

Above him, Felix’s eyes are stretched so wide that he’s looking about five years younger for it. He looks furious, which, for Felix, means scared. Another bad sign. “Don’t try to get up.” 

“Wouldn’t leave you even if I could, sweetheart,” Sylvain laughs—so rough that it sounds more like a cough—and begins wiggling the fingers in his left arm experimentally. “Which I can’t, by the way. Right arm is shot. Maybe if I—“

“Stop moving,” Felix snaps with enough ferocity that Sylvain does just that. The high pitched whine of a medical tricorder rises above the sound of the sirens. Felix has never been one for combat first aid; his frustration shows in the clench of his jaw and the way he slams his hand against the badge on his chest before biting out, “where the fuck is the med team.”

 It’s shock, probably, that keeps Sylvain from grasping the severity of the situation. 

“Small blessings, Felix. If  I die now, they won’t have to court-martial me for killing the captain.” 

“You didn’t—“ Felix starts, frowning even further when he glances up to meet Sylvain’s eyes, “he’s stunned.”

And Sylvain isn’t far gone enough to miss the relief that pours through his veins at those words, like a river’s worth of guilt bursting through the seams of a derelict dam. 

Sylvain hadn't checked, then. There hadn’t been time for even the thought. He remembers Dimitri, eyes narrowed and dark, powering weapons at the tactical station. And Felix, collapsed on the floor beside him, strangled sobs of agony escaping his shaking form as he’d clutched at his head. Ingrid had been shouting something, while the Professor flitted past in his periphery. But Felix, and his pain, had been the only thing Sylvain could focus on. There was no thought, only action. He’d grabbed for the phaser at his hip. He’d fired. 

Back in the present, Sylvan drags his eyes away from Felix in favor of blinking up at the ceiling. There’s a stinging in the corner of his eyes. He releases one long, shaky breath. 

“Don’t think that’ll make much of a dent in a mutiny charge, but. That’s good. I’m glad.” 

[aquagustd]

hell is empty - JJK, KTH

04. ONLY TOUCHED YOU ONCE ༄moodboard

life has a tendency to throw things your way when you least expect it, when you’re content, and the ominous presence knows exactly how to steer your existence back into the darkness.

prev | series masterlist | next [chapter summaries under masterlist]

pairing — drug lord!jungkook x reader, hotel owner!taehyung x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut, love triangle au

word count — 5.8K

listen to — lose you to love me by selena gomez

warnings/tags — single parent!reader, dad!jk, CEO!taehyung, ex-bf!jungkook, strong language, parental conflict, mentions of violence & blood, stern tae *heavy breathing*, shirtless jk (don’t look at me), a knife, sad thoughts, jealousy, mentions of stalking, mentions of constipation (yes), y/n can’t swim, kissing

a/n — kay, part 04 will be a two-parter? there’s a lot that happens & i didn’t want it to be overwhelming !!

“Why should I?”

Attempting to calm yourself down, you hear the soft beep to indicate that your call wasn’t answered. Fuck, Hoseok. So much for ‘give me a ring if you ever need me.’ There’s only so much time you managed to buy before the two men looming over your car windows lose patience. Fingers trembling, you scroll down to find his number. Your location is always on.

You’ll have to figure out the rest later.

The man standing at your window reaches over to push down the unlock button on the steering wheel, startling you when his hand brushes past your face. From that angle, you caught more of his face. If they wanted to rob you, they would’ve tried to conceal their identity. His hair hangs in dark strands over the sides his temples, angled jaw and small, incensed eyes that catches the light from inside your car when he tugs on the door handle.

You swallow, dropping your phone to the seat then stepping out on a shaky foot.

“What do you want from me?” Keeping your voice loud enough for the man on the other end of the call to hear, “please don’t hurt me!”

Despite the gentle slant to his eyes, he beckons the other guy over with a rigid wave of his hand. You watch him open the backdoor of your car before slamming it shut after doing a quick scan, a pensive look on his face. In a split second, you’re being tossed to the ground further into the dark, a sharp pain cutting through your knee.

“Fuck!”

His head snaps in your attacker’s direction, eyes blazing, “what the fuck is wrong with you, eight?”

A shaky hand reaches for your knee, head tossed back in agony before you catch sight of the growing red blotch seeping through the flimsy material of your dress. Your attempt at containing your fear for logical thinking goes to waste when the other man stalks in your direction, a somewhat predatory glaze over his eyes. Nasty scar running from his left temple down the side of his neck.

That’s when the worst starts to go through your mind.

This is it. This is how it ends for you. Or even worse, you’d be forced to live with the dirty remains of their hands on your skin, etched in your memory forever.

Eight’s head whips around, reaching behind him before producing a shiny object, “you’re too sweet, Park.”

The other man, Park, you’re assuming, clenches his jaw, hands leaving his pocket before he charges in the other man’s direction to shove him away. You’re watching the interaction with dizzying terror and panic, grabbing at your knee to press down on the wound.

“What the fuck?” Eight holds the knife to Park’s neck, but he doesn’t flinch like you do, even though you have no clue what’s going on between them. “He said to shake her up a bit.”

Your eyebrows furrow. ‘Who?’

Park reaches for Eight’s wrist, yanking it down with a tick in his jaw, “yes, to threaten her a bit. I think you did your job.”

Park’s gaze jumps to your knee without turning his head, Eight does the same, but his expression reads livid.

“Why are you doing this?” You choke when you hear your own voice, not expecting this amount of blood from a minor bruise. At least you hope it’s minor. Not willing to accept the fact that the pain says otherwise.

Eight crouches down in front of you, eyes wicked, “we have a message for you.”

“Message,” you mumble, nearly passing out when he shuffles closer, “for m-me?”

“Not for you,” Park says from behind Eight, eyeing your knee, “for Jeon Jungkook.”

Blood freezing in your veins, you feel as if the oxygen supply to your brain is being cut off.

“From who? What the fuck do I have to do with this?!”

You flinch when Eight raises his hand over your head, cheek pressed to your shoulder with fear, but the blow doesn’t come. Eyes cracking open, you see Park gripping Eight’s fist, a warning in his eyes. Eight huffs, springing up as he gives you a break from his vicious gaze. But you’re still trembling.

“We—”

The sound of car tires scraping into the gravel alarms all three of you, relief washing over you in calming waves when you see Taehyung’s white i8.

“Fuck.”

Eight is the first to run, sprinting to his car and driving off while Park seems a little hesitant, stopping at the car door before he gives you a once over then hops in as he watches Taehyung rush to your aid, who’s just as confused as you. Why did they run away?

“What the fuck happened?” He shouts, picking you up off the floor, one hand tucked under your legs.

Your hands encircle his neck, tears bubbling over, “I d-don’t know. They just—”

“Shush,” he pants, placing a kiss to the top of your head before tucking you into the passenger seat, “let’s get you to the hospital.”

If the wind wasn’t blowing into your hair, you would think you’re slowly slipping away from reality, running on your last threads of life with your son’s face popping into mind. Taehyung has a hand wrapped around your own, keeping you tethered to consciousness.

“I-I am messing up your seats,” you chuckle, ogling the contours of his frightened features with half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, one hand gripping the wheel even tighter, “hold on for me, baby. We’re nearly there.”

Your hold on his fingers slackens, mind dimming into black.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, there’s two options…”

“I think we should wait for her to wake up.”

The voices fade in and out as you try to keep your heavy lids open, sensations in your hands and legs returning. And then there’s another hand in yours, pulling you into the bright light which turns out to be the fluorescents in the hospital room, blanket pulled up to your chest.

“Junho,” you mutter, tongue sitting dry in your mouth.

You tilt your head to the side, finding a pair of worried, brown eyes and messy brown hair to match. Taehyung.

“Hey,” he smiles, “you’re awake. Just in time.”

Taking stock of your surroundings, you try to sit up, wincing at the throb in your knee.

“Hold on.” Taehyung sets another pillow behind your back, palm lingering on your head before he sinks back down on his chair at the bed.

The doctor calls your name, a nurse stands at the foot of the bed next to him, holding a pale pink folder. Then it all comes rushing back. The bandage around your knee serving as proof that it wasn’t just a crazy nightmare after a spending one night without your son.

You attempt to speak, but your throat feels coarse, about to ask for water when Taehyung thrusts a glass in your direction, “it’s okay, take your time.” His soothing, baritone voice washes through you better than the liquid, thumbing away the single tear that rests in the hollow of your eye.

Thanking him, you reach for his hand again, keeping it in your lap when you turn to the doctor.

“What happened?”

The elderly man chuckles, arms propped on his belly, “I think we should be asking you that question.”

You blink, eyebrows furrowed as you try to piece together what you can. Just as you’re about to speak, Taehyung holds up a hand.

“She wants to know what happened with her knee,” he intones, gaze didactic and sharp, “doc.”

The doctor looks between you and Taehyung, then grabs the folder from the nurse, chubby face turning stolid.

“You cut your knee, we’re unsure of how yet, but the tear ran deep and you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh.”

Taehyung faces you, “they’re gonna need to set up an IV, a transfusion will take too long to approve here since it’s past midnight.”

“A transfusion won’t be necessary in your case,” the doctor adds with a smile, “you’ll be in tip top shape by morning.”

“Okay.”

He turns to the nurse, “you’d have to spend the night. Nurse Ahn will attend to you.”

She bows before leaving the room, the doctor following close behind before he stops at the doorway, throwing Taehyung a cursory glance.

Exhaling a deep sigh, you try to prop up your knee to inspect the damage, but Taehyung warns against it.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, gaze on the way you keep both your hands wrapped around his large one, “I lied.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “about what?”

“I said I was your boyfriend when we came in and I told them they should do what they can.”

“Tae—”

“There was just so much blood you know,” he pouts, now drawing patterns on your arm, “I was worried.”

You giggle, cupping his cheek to have him look up at you, “it’s alright. I understand.”

He beams at you, surging forward to wrap his arms around your shoulders. You melt into his embrace, slowly realizing that his scent is becoming your favorite as you nuzzle into his neck, eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you,” you speak into his neck, the reality of the situation hitting you full force. “How did you know? I mean, how did you find me?”

He pulls away, now sitting at the edge of the bed as he combs through your hair lazily, “you sent me your location.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, dummy. You did. And then you called me, but you weren’t talking. And I had like this feeling in my gut.”

“I mean,” you tease, raising a hand to brush the mole on his nose, “I did send you my location. I was in the middle of nowhere!”

“Actually,” he begins, index finger grazing his chin, “that wasn’t the middle of nowhere. You weren’t far off from a friend’s house which is a fairly safe neighbourhood. How did you end up there?”

“I thought I was being followed.” You say without hesitation, leaning in closer to him as you whisper the next few words. “It’s been happening for a while and I…”

“You know those guys? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy! We just met when I started noticing!”

He rolls his jaw for a bit, before his gaze softens, “okay. But do you know them? Did they say anything to you?”

“They—”

“Sorry,” he curses under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “why am I asking you all this now. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Are you leaving?”

“No,” he answers, “I’m staying here with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I know you’re busy and must have important things to attend to.”

You watch as he brings your hand up to his lips, heart skipping a beat when he places a sweet kiss to the back of your hand, “you are important to me.”

Smiling, you respond a little lovestruck, “so are you.”

Hand sliding to his cheek, a thrill runs up the length of your spine when you feel his light stubble, tipping your head up to catch his lips in a lingering, syrupy kiss. Hands slotting into his hair when his tongue parts the seam of your lips, running over yours as he kisses you fervently. Your insides feel cottony as he rests his forehead to yours, breaths mixing with yours in soft pants.

“Hmm, missed that,” you admit with a sigh, whining when he pulls away too quick for your liking.

“I missed you,” he winks, intertwining your fingers before he returns to his chair, rolling up the sleeves of his brown sweater, “you sure you’re okay? You’re handling this a lot better than I expected.”

What can you say? “I’m used to it,” you chuckle dryly, watching his smile sag into pity.

“I’m sorry baby.”

You stare at your connected hands, swallowing the lump in your throat, “it’s alright…I have never seen those guys in my life.”

He holds the seat of the chair and scoots closer to the side of the bed, “do you think you can describe the way they looked?”

Drawing in a deep breath, you look up to the ceiling in thought. Brushing away the fear creeping up on you once again as you try to recall their faces.

“One of them had a scar,” you begin, still staring at the grainy ceiling boards, “down one side of his face to his neck. He was bald. Looked to be in his early twenties. So did the other guy.”

Taehyung’s thumb rubs over your knuckles comfortingly, urging you to continue with an encouraging nod of his head, “what did the other guy look like?”

“He had long, black hair, just below his ears. Small eyes and he had a tattoo at the back of his neck. But I couldn’t make out what it was in the dark. He also wore…earrings? They both wore similar black clothing. Is that helpful?”

“Very helpful,” he replies, eyes searching yours as he seems to be taking in all the information, “only the two of them?”

You chew on your lip, “mhm, and two black vans. Like the one I’ve been seeing following me around.”

He props a hand on his thigh, gaze skating across the room, “I got one of the van’s number plate down, my brother is already on it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he goes on, reaching for his phone that sits on the side table, “we should have something in a few hours."

You should’ve gone to him in the first place, then none of this would’ve happened. But how would you have known?

He rises from his seat, tucking his phone away, “someone’s here to see you. I think I kept them waiting long enough.”

“Who? Junho?”

He draws away from you, flashing you another disarming smile, “you miss him.”

“I do,” you whisper, “I was going back for him.”

“Can I ask…your ex…do you think he might’ve had anything to do with this?”

“I don’t know.”

He pecks your cheek, allowing you to take in a deep breath of his pleasing scent.

“We’ll find out.”

With that, he side-steps around your pair of visitors, giving Yoongi a small handshake before he disappears behind the wall. Yuri nails you with the star-struck, ‘he’s handsome’ look, burning a hole into the back of his head before she tosses herself over your figure, apologizing when she accidentally brushes your knee.

“Oh my God, are you okay? I was so worried, fuck. Taehyung called Yoongi and all I could think about was that bastard. What did he do?”

“I’m okay!” You laugh, gesturing for her to sit at the edge of the bed, “we don’t know if Jungkook has anything to do with it yet.”

“Please,” she scoffs, brushing her fingers through your hair, “he’s here for one night only but already causing shit. How’s your knee?”

“Sore, they’re gonna set up an IV.”

“You’re spending the night?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need me to fetch anything from home? Need a ride after?”

“No,” you grab her hands, holding them close to your chest, “thank you. I’ll be out by the morning and Taehyung’s gonna be here.”

The corner of her mouth lifts, leaning forward with a salacious grin, “so Mr. Kim Taehyung huh?”

You blush, shoving her away.

“Your prince charming, there at your beck and call. Like you’ve always dreamed.”

“Stop!”

Yoongi stands at the window, pretending not to hear whatever it is that you’re talking about like he always does.

“He’s sweet.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes, I do. A lot.”

“I’m happy for you.”

Yoongi clears his throat and Yuri rolls her eyes. “he’s been a grump all night. Anyway, I’ll go grab us some coffee. Bun, coffee?”

Yoongi grumbles out a yes before he’s walking around the bed to take the empty seat, pulling it in a corner away from your bed. You’re not looking at him just yet, and you know that he’s doing the same, keeping his hands clasped between his legs. Then crossing his legs and fiddling with his earrings. You’ve known him long enough to read the signs. He’s guilty.

“Yoong—”

“Where—”

He holds up his palms, finally looking at you, “you go first.”

You sigh deeply before you begin. Knowing that one breath will carry you through this difficult conversation.

“He’s back,” you state simply, watching his lips form a terse line. That’s all you can say. Anger and sadness threaten to take over as you attempt to say all the things you’ve been storing just for him.

“I know.”

“Yeah? How long have you known?”

He shakes his head, tone condescending as he mumbles your name which tips you over.

“You knew, Yoongi. You know what happened the last time, yet you still kept it from me.”

“I was just trying to protect you.”

You throw your arms up in defeat, voice brittle, “hear we go again. You’re trying to protect me? We all know how that turns out. What happens when you try to protect me.”

His back goes taut, feline eyes brimming with pain, “that’s not fair and you know it.”

You fold your arms as if that’d keep the sharp words from escaping, jaw rolling with defiance.

“And now Junho is caught in all of this.”

“Where is he?”

Chuckling mirthlessly, you roll your eyes, “I’m sure you know, Yoongi. He’s with his dad.”

He says nothing, eyes on his shoes. You’re staring him down with all the animosity that you know should be saved for someone else. Someone who started all of this. With another deep exhale, your shoulders loosen, throb in your knee a little lighter.

“You shouldn’t have let him go,” he says finally.

Your eyes widen, hand flying to your chest with shock, “what? How could I do that? As it is he’s trying to paint me as the bad guy, knowing that Junho would obviously believe his beloved father over me!”

“Junho would never do that.”

“What?”

“He loves his mother too much.”

You stare at him through blurred vision, reaching up to wipe the tears away furiously, “yeah?”

Yoongi rises from the chair, walking the short space to place his hand on the crown on your head, eyes set on your bandaged knee.

“Yeah,” he mutters, gaze flickering to you briefly, “Junho would never choose someone he met a few days ago over someone he knew his whole life. He knows you’ll always be there for him, no matter what.”

“But that’s his father,” you sob, now tugging on the hem of his jacket. Why are you having déjà vu?

“And you’re his mother.” He says resolutely, patting your head twice as he offers a small, tight-lipped smile.

You smile back, a little teary.

“You know,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “I know what it’s like.”

Nodding, you move away so he can sit near your feet, “I know.”

After a little lighter silence passes, you ask another important question.

“Do you know who they were? The guys that want Jungkook.”

He blinks twice.

“No, I don’t know what shit he got into this time. But he’s back and he needs to sort it out and keep you and Junho out of it.”

You gesture to your wrapped up knee, “too late for that.”

“Did they say anything?”

“They had a message for Jungkook.”

“What was it?”

You shake your head, “didn’t get to that part…I tried calling Hobi.”

He perks up at that, “and?”

“No answer.”

He jams the heels of his palms to his eyes, groaning softly, “I’m honestly so fucking relieved that Junho wasn’t with you and Taehyung got there in time. Who knows what would’ve happened?”

“Me too,” you shiver, forcing out all those horrifying thoughts once again, “I need him back with me.”

“As soon as possible.”

Early the next morning, you and Taehyung are driving off to the address Yoongi had provided. You would’ve gone by yourself, but Taehyung insisted that he go along with, just in case.

“Hey,” he calls, cruising through the narrow road as you try to spot the house Yoongi had described.

“Hm?”

“I was thinking…”

Sensing the hesitance in his voice, you spin around to look at him, eyebrows raising, “thinking…?”

His attention turns from the road to you, offering a lopsided yet skittish smile, “after this we could go out. Us three.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he grins, giving a one-shoulder shrug, “it’d be fun. I could get to know Junho better…and his beautiful mother.”

You feel your cheeks warm, gaze drifting out the window, “okay. Where would we go?”

“I have some plans.”

“Okay,” you beam, “I trust that you know a few fun places that are suitable for kids.”

“I know more than a few,” he winks, dipping his head as he points through the windscreen, “this is it.”

You lean forward, taking in the sheer size of it all. It’s a whole palace. Large gates matching the fencing that surrounds the place. Taehyung whistles lowly beside you, you’re squinting in the distance to check if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if that is really a waterfall.

Too busy marvelling at the exterior of the mansion, you only take notice of the burly man standing at Taehyung’s window when he speaks.

“Can I help you?”

“Kim Taehyung and this is my girlfriend,” he introduces you as he sticks his head out of the window frame, “she’s Junho’s mother.”

The man bends over, dark, blank eyes drifting from you to Taehyung before he stands up and speaks into wrist.

“Okay, sir, welcome. They’re out at the back.”

Taehyung nods, and once you’re in through the gates, a mix of emotions has your heart stammering. Mouth hanging open in awe.

“If I was Junho, I’d never want to leave this place,” Taehyung admits, wonder in his voice.

You slap his shoulder playfully, “what do you mean? I’m sure your house must be the same if not bigger.”

“When I was around Junho’s age, things weren’t easy for me and my family.”

“Oh.”

You reach for his hand at this new piece of information, wanting nothing more than to hug and squish little Taehyung and tell him that things will be okay. The man he is today.

But he dismisses you with a laugh, wiggling your thigh around, “go on. I’ll wait out here.”

Cupping his cheek, you press a soft kiss to the other before covering his mouth with your own briefly.

He hums, the sound rumbling through you as he traps you under his arm, “don’t be too long.”

Once you step out, the first thing that catches your eye in the neatly parked row of cars to the opposite end. Glimmering under the bright sunlight as you pass them by to head around what you think is the back of the house like the guy at the gate had said. You don’t know any of their names, but you know your son does, imagining the excitement on his face when he first saw them.

Forced to shield your eyes from the sun, you grip your purse once you hear laughter that belongs to your son, unmistakably. Feeling your skin prickle with goosebumps as you walk through the enchanting garden, closer and closer to the jubilant sounds. Tentatively, you take once last turn around the corner to find the source of the sound. Junho propped up on a neon green floater as Jungkook splashes him around in the pool.

When Junho topples over, you shriek, heart sinking to the pit of your stomach.

Jungkook spins around, smile falling at the sight of you just as yours morphs into a frown.

“Look who’s here,” he announces, not even bothering to wipe Junho’s face as he climbs back up on the floater.

“Mamma!”

Charging to the edge of the pool, you keep a safe distance away as he swims to the stairs, drenching you in water when he jumps into your arms.

“I missed you,” you whisper, holding him close to you as you stand up to your full height, not even caring that he’s getting your silk dress wet.

“Put me down!”

Confused, you set him down, hands lingering on his shoulders, “why? Can’t I get a hug from my baby?”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Junho,” you reason, returning to your initial position, “where’s all this coming from?”

He hops back into your lap, nudging your chin with his head, “dad said I’m not a baby anymore so you can’t carry me.”

Seething, your head snaps up to find Jungkook, but instead, a completely different emotion warms your body as you watch him step out of the pool. Wearing nothing but black shorts as he pushes his hair back. Hearing yourself gulp, you prop Junho on your hip and wait for Jungkook as he makes his way to you, towel wrapped around his neck.

“Party pooper’s here to take you away?”

Junho runs a finger along your collarbone, giggling cutely, “dad calls you party pooper.”

“That’s not nice, Smiley.”

“My name is not Smiley!”

This time, you leave him at the stairs of the massive pool and ask him to go play. He cannot hear what you’re about to tell his father who’s now walking away to the other end, tattooed hand ruffling his hair.

“Hey!”

He spins around, tonguing at his cheek, “what?”

“Why are you brainwashing Junho?”

He laughs, hair falling into his eyes as his gaze meanders from your toes to your face, eyebrow cocked, “I’m not trying to brainwash him.”

You fold your arms, keeping your gaze on his face, “then what is it that you’re trying to do? Telling him he’s not a baby—”

“—because he’s not—”

“—that his name is not Smiley—”

“—that’s not his name—”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you take a single step forward, only a foot away from him when you say:

“If you only came here to ruin our lives then just leave.”

His eyes flash with challenge, gaze flitting to your knee, “that’s a bad limp you got there.”

At his statement, you poke his chest, rock hard against your fingers, “it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t come here and try to interfere.”

He laughs “—yeah okay—” then spins around to leave but you grip his arm, willing to end this right now. Because you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep last night and it will only remain that way as long as he’s here. Snatching your peace with his presence.

“Tell Junho you can’t see him again, because you’re gonna leave soon anyway, right? You’re gonna break his heart either way.”

His chin tips up, eyes simmering with an indecipherable emotion, standing toe to toe with you.

“You’re a little gutsy to come here and make demands of your own.”

His toes nudge the tip of your shoe and you’re forced to take a step back.

“I—”

“And with your sugar daddy,” he tsks, venom lacing his tone which only has you taking another step back. Heart threatening to explode.

“You’re—”

“Junho is my son. Just as he is yours.”

“What about all those years ago?” You grit, foot sliding across the brick as he stalks closer and closer, nostrils flaring. “He wasn’t your son then, was he?”

“You always show your true colors.”

Before you can speak, you lose balance and the next thing you know, the ground disappears from under you, hands fighting with the air as you try to take hold of something, anything. But the last thing you see is the hate pasted on his face before your entire body is being submerged in water, feet kicking and searching for a surface. The endless blue stinging your eyes as your lungs give up, water rushing into your mouth. A muffled shout is heard and then a force pulls you up to the surface.

A body. Arms and legs wrapped around it as you splutter and cough, pants mixed with soft whimpers.

“Mamma can’t swim dad!”

Junho calls from the other side, voice tapering into a cry. But you’re still catching your breath, too paralyzed with fear to even look at him as your head rests on the warm skin, endless beneath your hands. You cling onto him, feeling his hand run down your back before you jerk away, face a few inches from his. Ears clogged yet still catching the unsteady beat of your heart.

Jungkook’s lashes are wet along with the rest of his face, blinking back at you blankly. He let you fall, knowing that you can’t swim. Your chest heaves, legs loosening around him but still gripping onto his shoulder as he swims to the lip of the pool.

Two hands rest on the backs of your thighs, helping you up before you feel a certain warmth behind you, too embarrassed, heartbroken to even look at him. Bag soggy, phone dead.

“Man, your son is such a good swimmer, but his mother can’t even swim! I thought you would’ve learned by now.”

Pinching your nose, lungs feeling a little punctured, his laughs only serve to hurt you more.

“I brought snacks for you guys!”

Following the sound of the voice, you see a woman holding a tray across the yard, wearing a hot pink bikini. Without turning around, you mumble a short greeting to Jungkook.

“Send Junho to the car.”

The limp in your walk being the perfect metaphor for your entire being.

Defeatedly, you knock on the door, forehead pressed to the cold wood, “are you done? Is it working?”

“No!”

Junho cries from the other side, voice strained with pain, “it hurts so bad, mamma!”

“I’m so sorry, baby. Should I come in there and hold your hand?”

“No! No! Stay there, pleeeease,” he wails, sniffling as you crumple behind the door.

It seems as if Jungkook would seize any opportunity to fuck up your life. Too many sweets and snacks and this is what you have to deal with. Junho’s stomach issues. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know about discipline and if he sees that he isn’t being limited, he’ll go to town. But you don’t blame him, you blame his irresponsible, useless father who knows nothing about children.

Of course, it’s fun to have fancy things and spoil your kids, but what’s the use if you’re not going to truly care for them?

God, Junho’s cries has tears springing to your eyes, clutching your stomach because you can only imagine the pain he must be going through. You’d have to get some meds for him tomorrow. On top of it all, you feel terrible for spoiling Taehyung’s plans, then having to ask him to leave because Junho was misbehaving once you got home. 

You don’t even have time to think about today’s events. Throat working wildly like it happened a few seconds ago.

Jungkook is willing to kill you. That’s all you take away from it. But why? You don’t think you have so much hate for him when he’s the one who left in the first place. What happened in these few years that caused him to become this ruthless? Hurting you both physically and emotionally.

But you know for a fact; that has passed. The time where he had even an ounce of care for you is long gone. You won’t even be surprised if Taehyung discovers that he’s the one behind it all. Just a little scare so you’d leave him and Junho alone.

‘shake her up a bit’

Not a chance. In fact, you’re determined to fight. Whichever way you can. If you’d have to get a lawyer involved, then so be it. If you had to get Hoseok and his associates involved, then you will. End it once and for all.

The man’s face refuses to leave your mind. Park. A feeling of sorrow? Guilt? Something there before he left. But perhaps you’re imagining things again, like you did when you thought Jungkook actually looked a bit happy to see you.

“Now?”

“No!”

“I’m sorry Smiley.”

Hearing a knock on the door, you pad across the hallway, wincing as you go to find Seojoon on the other side, gaze latched on your knee immediately.

“Woah, what happened there?”

He toes off his shoes as he steps in, flopping down on the couch next to you.

“Long story,” you yawn, fist tucked under your chin, “what’s up?”

“Came over to see the little man.”

“Little man is constipated.”

“Again?”

“Yep,” you groan, holding up a warning finger, “but it wasn’t my fault this time.”

He leans forward, curls masking his eyes, “then whose was it?”

“His dad’s.”

“Wait what? His dad’s as in…Junho’s dad.”

“Yeah.” You tuck your feet under your thighs, scratching at the surgical tape on your arm.

“He’s back, that asshole. Already causing trouble!”

“More than you would ever know.”

He sets his elbow on the backrest, turning to face you, “how does Junho feel about it?”

You shrug, sarcasm in your shrieks, “he’s happy, ecstatic, on cloud nine!”

Seojoon’s lips quirk to the side, hand reaching for your shoulder, “I mean, what would you expect? He thought his dad was his hero.”

“He still thinks that way.”

Two raps on the door catch your attention, Seojoon thrusts his thumb in the direction of the door and you shake your head ‘no,’ telling him you’ll answer. Expecting Taehyung, you greet the person on the other side of the door with a dazzling smile, fingers twitching around the handle to find someone else.

“Jungkook.”

He mumbles your name in a similar tone, doe eyes softened at the corners.

“You—”

“Well well well,” Seojoon props his forearm on the doorframe, leaning over your figure, “look who it is.”

You freeze when Jungkook looks between the two of you, gaze raking down your figure before his expression from earlier today returns. A thin tank top and shorts is what you chose for pajamas tonight and you’ve grown comfortable around Seojoon. But Jungkook, he sees it in another twisted way.

“Who’s this? Another one of your lovers?”

“N—”

You gasp when you feel a hand slide around your waist, pulling you flush to his back, “yeah, so?”

Jungkook’s gaze is relentless, not even bothering to hear you speak. Nudging Seojoon away, you prepare for the barrage of harsh words just by noticing the way Jungkook’s top lip curls.

big oof…please send in feedback, I’d love to chat to you & hear what you think <3 ✉️

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[winter-soldier-vibes]

avenger!reader who suffers from depression and is really hard on herself/themself and blames themself after a mission went wrong and locks themselves out, bucky is worried abt them and comforts them

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count:3102 (wow I went off the rails a bit huh 😅)

Warnings: self-blame, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, breakdown, lots of tears, this one’s really angsty, flashbacks, some fluff/comfort but so much angst

A/N: I loved this request and had a great time writing it. This one’s a lil more angsty than I usually do and deals with some heavier themes than some of my other ones, so please take care of yourself and heed the warnings. I love you guys so much!

There was nothing you could have done.

You were the first off the quinjet, anxious to get out of the unbearable silence.

You kept your head down as you walked quickly to your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, stumbling to get into your room as fast as possible, locking the door behind you as you let the tears fall.

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stave off your breakdown as you tried to keep taking even breaths.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you said in a small voice.

“Yes?” the AI responded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice even. “Turn on soundproofing, please.”

“As you wish. I am picking up on signs of distress, would you like me to call Sergeant Barnes?”

You shook your head violently at the thought of anyone, especially your boyfriend seeing you like this. “No.”

“Are you sure? Would you like me to call -”

“Don’t let anyone in this room.”

“As you wish, Y/n.”

You heard a noise indicating that the room had been soundproofed.

And you lost it.

You brought a hand to your face and sank back against the wall, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You pushed yourself back against the wall, trying to ground yourself. Your mind flashed back to the mission you had just returned from and you let out an agonizing scream.

You’ll never forget the looks on their faces.

“Y/n, come on we have to go!”

“Wait - no I almost have them!”

“Help us - please - no don’t go!”

Blood curdling screams that didn’t belong to you, followed by your own.

A building had collapsed on an innocent family in the aftermath of the fight. You tried to get them out, but you were too late, Steve pulling you away at the last second before you were taken out too.

You were so angry, you had been so close - if you had seen them sooner, if you had just a few more seconds, maybe you could’ve gotten them out.

The last thing that they saw was their only hope being pulled away from them before being suffocated.

You were the last thing they saw, you had promised to get them out.

And you had lied to them.

The last thing they felt was hope that they’d see another day. No - the last thing they felt was betrayal and fear when they realized that one of the world’s greatest heroes couldn’t be their hero too.

The moments that had followed were a blur, your eyes frozen on where their eyes had been, shock coursing through your veins. You had seen someone die before but...not like that. Not when you could’ve maybe saved them.

The shock quickly bubbled into anger as you turned to Steve.

“Why the FUCK would you do that? I could’ve saved them!”

“You would’ve died Y/n!”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me then maybe I would’ve gotten them out in time!”

You had angry tears in your eyes, hitting Steve’s chest and doing exactly nothing to his broad form while he tried to console you.

“Get the fuck away from me! I could’ve saved them, this is YOUR fault.”

The ride back was silent. No one dared to talk to you about what had happened. You felt bad after a while but you couldn’t apologize without completely crumbling. If you opened your mouth you were certain that sobs would come rather than words.

You did feel horrible for what you said, because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Steve’s fault.

It was yours.

So you waited until you returned to the privacy of your room, screaming bloody murder over the guilt you felt. Replaying what had happened, telling yourself everywhere you had gone wrong, every hesitation that could’ve given you an extra few seconds.

You felt like you’d never stop seeing their eyes, paralyzed by fear.

You were the last thing they saw, and now you would remember their last moment for the rest of yours.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of pain and fear they had felt when they realized they weren’t getting out of the rubble alive. That they would die as a part of a warzone they didn’t intend to be a part of. The feeling of hope draining from their bodies, blood running cold as they realized they had mere seconds left.

“No!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, body curling in on itself as you drew your knees in and wrapped your arms around your torso, sick to your stomach.

This was your fault, and you would never forget it.

---

The rest of the team had sighed as they watched you get off the quinjet, walking a bit too fast to be alright. They shared concerned looks with each other, watching your form disappear into the compound.

You weren’t okay, but after what had happened when Steve tried to approach you, they thought it best to give you some space.

The rest of them entered the compound, going their separate ways as Steve sat to down and ran a hand down his face, trying to get his mind off of what had happened. He was shaken up too, but he couldn’t lose you like that. You would die protecting strangers, and while he thought that was noble, he wondered when there wouldn’t be someone to pull you out in time.

Bucky had come down to check on you, knowing that the team had gotten back from a mission. But before he could knock on the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke. “Sergeant Barnes, Y/n has requested that she not be disturbed.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, both in concern and confusion. Usually when a mission hit you hard, you would talk to him about what had happened. So either you were just tired, or this was worse than it had ever been.

He clenched his jaw and stood there for another few moments before he walked away, heading towards anyone who may be able to tell him what happened on the mission.

He came into the common room, seeing Steve doing a mission report. Well - the mission report was in front of him and he was staring blankly at it.

“Steve?” Bucky said softly, trying not to startle him.

Steve didn’t look up.

“Steve,” Bucky said a little louder.

Steve looked up from the papers, shaking his head slightly. “Hey, Buck. What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking in Steve’s tired appearance and how his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve said, barely looking at Bucky.

“You know, I’ve taken care of enough black eyes from mister back-alley hero to know when you’re not really fine.” Bucky said with a small smirk.

Steve’s eyes flicked up to Bucky’s as he sighed. “It’s not me you should be worried about,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve recounted the mission to his friend, Bucky getting increasingly concerned about you. He knew you had a tendency to blame yourself for different things, and he knew what blaming yourself for someone’s death was like, even if you couldn’t control the situation.

Bucky was brainwashed. You were too late. Two different things, but the survivor's guilt was excruciating.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked nervously.

“She didn’t get hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Steve started, “but she seemed pretty shaken up. You haven’t talked to her?”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Just give her some time,” he said, worriedly.

Bucky nodded, though unconvinced. He bottled up his emotions until the two of you met. Ever since the two of you never kept anything from each other. And he knew that seeing someone die and feeling at fault for it could destroy you. He wasn’t sure if time and space was what you needed.

But it was what you wanted right now. So he wouldn’t get in the way.

----

Back in your room you were curled in a ball on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you lost all sense of time and space and all you knew was it hurt and if you closed your eyes they were right there and you couldn’t do anything about it. You had a hand pressed to your chest as you tried to breathe but eventually gave way to a new surge of agony when your mind went back to how people died and you couldn’t help them.

You tried to calm down but then your mind would remind you that they had a family and they would never see them again and it was your fault.

“Stop, please just stop,” you put your hands over your ears as you tugged slightly on your hair.

They died terrified.

“Please make it stop,” you sobbed.

You were supposed to help them and you failed.

“No, God, please stop…”

They died because of you

----

You had fallen asleep on the floor at some point, when, you weren’t sure, but you woke up to your own screams. You were drenched in a cold sweat, dried tears on your face and chest heaving as you tried to breathe. You brought your hands to your mouth when you realized it was just a dream, sobbing once again.

You didn’t know why these people’s death was hitting you harder than any other death you had seen. This wasn’t the first time you had seen people die - far from it. You’d killed your fair share of agents without a hint at remorse. Because they deserved it.

You’d seen buildings burn down, fall apart, innocent people die - but you’d never felt as responsible as you did this time. Because they were right there. And you were so close.

But they still died and you saw their last moments. And you were theirs.

And it was destroying you.

----

You didn’t leave your room the following day. Or the day after that.

Needless to say, the team was extremely worried about you. Especially Bucky.

He knew what survivor’s guilt could do to a person, and he knew being alone with your thoughts wasn’t helping. He also knew that pushing the topic could do much more harm than good, causing you to retreat further into yourself.

He tried texting you, wanting to let you know that he was there for you, that he was worried about you, and that he loved you.

None of them went though because your phone was off, you having not even looked at it since coming back from the mission.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still telling everyone that you did not want to be disturbed, as you had requested. Obviously Tony had the power to override the locks, but again, no one wanted to push you.

When it had been 3 days since you had seen any sunlight, Bucky had had enough. He knew you couldn’t be taking proper care of yourself and he couldn’t let you do that to yourself. He had Tony override your locks and he came to your door, knocking gently.

“Y/n?”

Silence.

He knocked again, a little louder. “Y/n? I’m coming in, alright?”

Silence.

Bucky took a deep breath before he opened your door slowly, peeking his head in. it was the middle of the afternoon and your room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway and from the cracks between the shades, which were drawn shut.

Bucky let himself in and turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you with worried eyes as he took in your appearance.

You were pressed up against the headboard of your bed, knees drawn to your chest as you stared blankly, your eyes fixated on your bedsheets. Your eyes were red, face blotchy, your hair was a mess and you were still wearing your uniform from the mission.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, voice raspy from yelling these past few days.

“Y/n -”

“Get out,” you said quietly, though not angrily.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, y/n.”

“Please,” you said, cursing yourself as your voice cracked. You didn’t want to breakdown in front of Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.”

You pushed yourself off of the bed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now, Bucky.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point, y/n.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“This kind of thing isn’t going to go away, okay? Time heals but not by itself.” You weren’t listening as you ran a hand over your face, overwhelmed.

“Please, talk to me y/n. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine. Not taking care of yourself and living in the dark staring at the wall isn’t fine, y/n. Please, don’t hide from me. It’s just me, y/n.”

You shook your head, eyes glazed over like glass. “I could’ve saved them.” you said simply.

“Y/n, there was nothing -”

“BULLSHIT!” You yelled. “There had to have been something I could do, if I had gotten there earlier or - or if I had moved faster or been stronger then I could’ve gotten them out! It’s my fault they’re dead okay? I couldn’t save them and that’s my fault!”

Bucky walked over to you slowly, asking you to look at him. “It isn’t your fault, y/n. The building collapsed, no one could’ve gotten them out.”

“I could have saved them.” you said again, tears falling down your face. “I could have gotten them out. I was the last thing they saw and you know what I was doing? Being carried away like some coward. They died afraid because a superhero couldn’t save them. And that’s on me.”

Bucky shook his head slightly. “You can’t save everyone, y/n.”

“So what, am I supposed to choose? I’m supposed to choose whether I save people or move on because they aren’t part of the mission? Am I supposed to let them die?” you asked incredulously.

“You can’t risk your own life like that, y/n.”

“What? And pretend like my life is any more important than theirs?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n -”

“No, why do I have the right to walk away from people because I’m afraid of getting hurt when they’re about to die? What gives me that right?”

“Because I can’t lose you!” Bucky exclaimed. “Yes, those people matter, but goddamn it y/n, you have helped so many people and you will keep saving so many people, but you can’t do that if you’re dead. We help who we can and mourn the rest. It’s not your fault that those people died. There was nothing that you could have done.”

“But if I had a few more seconds -”

“The building still would have fallen and you’d be asking yourself for a few more seconds. There is nothing you or anyone else could’ve done.”

You stayed silent, more tears falling from your eyes. Bucky pulled you in for a hug as your shoulders started to shake with more sobs. “I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t stop seeing the look they had on their faces,” you shook your head. “Everytime I try to sleep I see them and I can’t make it go away. And I want to forget but I don’t deserve to and it hurts but I don’t deserve to forget.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said, knowing all too well what being haunted by the fear on someone’s face was like. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t let them die, y/n. You would’ve given anything to save them, if Steve hadn’t pulled you away you would’ve died with them. You didn’t run away even though you knew you would die if you stayed. You do know that right?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” Bucky said softly. You felt new tears fall from your eyes as you hid your face into Bucky’s chest.

“You can’t tell me that nothing could be done. You can’t tell me that innocent people were going to die and that’s the way it has to be. That isn’t fair,” you spoke through your tears.

Bucky pulled back to wipe the tears from your face and look you in the eyes. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you did everything in your power to save them. It’s not your fault that you got there too late. Those HYDRA agents who destroyed the city - it’s their fault. Not yours.”

“I’m supposed to protect people,” you said as you shrugged and shook your head slightly. “If I can’t do that then what am I?”

“A person who is trying their best. You don’t always have to be everyone’s hero. You don’t have to take responsibility for everyone, that’s too much to expect of anyone. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone because you can’t. But you’ve saved so many people that would’ve died if you weren’t there. You are so important, but you have to stay alive to help more people.”

You took a shaky breath. “Those people were going to die no matter what,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Bucky. Your chest tightened again and you felt sick. “Oh my God,” you said, the acceptance of the fact brought on a new wave of emotions as your knees felt weak.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest again, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” you sobbed against his chest.

“Because you have a good heart.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I don’t want one if it means it’s going to hurt this much.”

“It’s okay, y/n. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

“Please make it stop. I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

Bucky felt tears sting his own eyes at your pain, holding you tighter against him. He cleared his throat before saying “I can’t make it go away. But I’m here to hold you and do everything I can to make it better. I’m not going anywhere y/n.”

He held you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--------

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[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 13: To the Death (Death)

AO3

Prev

Their last few days in Gotham went by smoothly. No rogue attacks, no akuma tacks. The only negative was Mr. Wayne refusing to allow her on patrol again because she was “injured” and “could have died.” Gotham has been nice for the most part and was full of surprises, but Marinette was relieved when the plane landed in Paris. The entire trip moved to the back of her mind, almost like a dream. Like it hadn’t really happened. Until Hawkmoth sent out his next akuma.

---

Taking in a shaky breath, Marinette blinks back tears. Everything was suddenly real. Hawkmoth might win.

She despised akumas with weapons. Specifically, the lethal weapons. Creative weapons or blasters she could handle. No problem. Legitimate swords or guns? Not so much. Instead she was left with a feeling of dread and uncertainty.

Pushing forward, she’s just about to call her lucky charm when she feels it. Choking slightly on the blood- why is there blood- she looks down at the sword sticking out of her chest. Oh. That’s why there’s blood. Blood. She coughs, wincing as she watches the blood pour out of her mouth. Huh. That’s not right. She almost hears Chat screaming. But why? Why does he sound so upset? Why- Oh. OH. She’s dying. She realizes this with a start as the world around her darkens and she begins to sway. She’s dying, and Hawkmoth is going to get her Miraculous. Hawkmoth is going to win. Oh, no- please-

“Chat.” She manages to say, watching as he runs towards her and scoops her up, carrying her out of the way of cameras and prying eyes. A place she can stay. A place where Hawkmoth won’t take her Miraculous. He won’t. He can’t. She frowns, black spots covering her vision, but not enough to hide his tears.

“Take them. Save them.” She manages to say, shaky hands reaching for her earrings. His lips move, so she knows he’s saying something. She wishes she could hear it. Wishes she’d thought of this possibility. She thinks Chat will win. But it’ll be so hard. She should’ve wrote a will. Should’ve planned ahead. Should’ve been more like her father. She blinks at Chat- Adrien- and realizes he’s still talking. She hopes it’s not important, that maybe he could tell her later. Her thoughts continue to jumble, just like her vision. Shifting into one incoherent mess. Words become shapes, pain dulls until she’s numb. Until she can’t feel it. Until she closes her eyes and lets the darkness carry her away.

---

Immediately after finding out about his Parisian daughter, Bruce Wayne had installed the akuma alert system in the Batcave. And on his phone. He wanted to be absolutely certain that he would know what was happening when, and maybe even find some way to help. Do something. Stop the emotional terrorist that had taken over his daughter’s childhood.

Sitting in his study, he takes a swig of coffee, thankful for a relaxing Saturday. He wanted to avoid WE, stay as far away as possible. They’d been bombarding him with questions about Marinette and the (true) rumor that started when her class first arrived in Gotham. Wanted to know if it was true, what they could say, what the official statement was. He wasn’t sure. He wanted Marinette to be able to make that decision. But it wasn’t something you could just ask after only a week of knowing each other.

A shrill ring breaks him out of his thoughts and he glances at his phone. That’s odd, he thinks, looking at the screen. Until he reads closer and realizes why it looks different. The Parisian news stations, who had never seemed too distressed by attacks before, were urging people to hide. Not just shelter in place. But hide. Making up his mind quickly, Bruce makes his way to the Bat Cave. Sure he couldn’t jump over to Paris to assist his daughter in battle, but he had to know that she was safe. He had to know Marinette would be okay. Miraculous cure or not. Walking into the cave, he’s unsurprised to see Tim already there, the news feed pulled up on the largest screen.

“It’s not looking good B. Casualties have already passed fifteen hundred. LB and Chat both look exhausted and the fight just started.” Tim informs him, frowning into his unnecessarily large cup of coffee. Bruce simply nods, trying to ignore the sudden tension in his jaw.

“How’s she holding up?” Dick asks, arms crossed as he walks in, Damian trailing in behind him.

“She’s giving ‘em hell but she also took a coupla good hits.” Jason says, watching his phone as he walks in through another entrance. Bruce’ chest feels warm at the obvious concern and care his sons have for their sister. He had no doubt that Cass (who had returned to Hong Kong before Marinette returned to Paris) was also watching the stream. Although not necessary, it was still nice of them to check. To care. As the fight goes on though, Bruce becomes antsy. The cameras are too far away to pick up the conversation between the heroes and the akuma, but it doesn’t look good. Marinette looks anxious, nervous, almost frenzied. All emotions he’d never seen on her (as Ladybug).

“Call your lucky charm.” Damian hisses, glaring up at the screen. Bruce silently agrees. As odd as the power was, it hadn’t failed her yet. There’s no- his blood freezes. The world shuts down as he tries to remember how to breathe. To remember that it’s okay to breathe. Because standing in front of the akuma is his daughter. With a sword protruding from her chest. The entire cave is silent, everyone waiting. Trying to process. The sword is pulled back and Bruce watches, sick to his stomach as blood falls out her mouth. As she sputters, more blood falling out. The dazed look on her face as she sways on her feet, not quite seeing her surroundings breaks his heart. She stumbles, her legs giving out, and he stares, unable to look away as Chat Noir manages to grab her and swing away.

“Shit.”

“She did not even dodge! She could have-”

“She’s not- she’s okay, right?”

“Is she-?” Bruce is barely able to hear the chaos around him. Barely able to focus on the video in front of him. He lets out a shuddering breath, turning his complete focus to watch for her to come back. Surely someone would heal her. The Miraculous cure could heal her. It had to. He desperately watches the screen, waiting for her spotted costume to come back. She had to come back. He sees spots, but squints. Something’s wrong with the spotted costume swinging towards the fight. The colors are right, but the flash of blonde hair and distinct male figure- it’s not...it’s not her. Not Marinette.

“It appears Mr. Bug is on the scene. Ladybug is down. I repeat, Ladybug is down.” The news anchor reports, a distraught look on her face. But the look on her face is nothing in comparison to the agony that shoots through Bruce. How? Why isn’t she up? Why would Adrien use her Miraculous? Why not heal her now, let her finish her battle? Unless...could she not be healed? Was the Miraculous cure unable to bring the Ladybug holder back? No. No, he couldn’t think that. Couldn’t accept that. She had to be okay. He couldn’t lose a child. Not again. Never again.

“The Cure will save her.” Damian says stiffly, tugging Bruce from his thoughts. He looks over to his youngest, torn by how young Damian suddenly looks. How broken he looks, staring at the screen in front of them. Braving a glance at his other sons, Bruce suddenly feels sick. His phone rings suddenly, and Bruce jumps, hoping the name- but no. It’s Cass, requesting a facetime. He answers, giving his daughter (is Marinette okay? Will she be okay? What if he loses her right after finding her?) a quizzical look.

“Little sister is okay, right?” She signs furiously, a frown on her face. Bruce grits his teeth, trying hard to push down the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’m not sure.” He answers, leaving his tone flat and without emotion. He couldn’t break. Not right now, not when his children looked so scared. Not when they all looked horrified. He couldn’t afford to be scared or horrified too. He had to hold it together. Even if he was screaming on the inside. Screaming and begging and pleading with whatever powers there were. Pleading for his daughter’s life. For her to wake up. For the Cure to work on her. He watches and waits. Wincing as Adrien is thrown around even more than usual. His hands twitch, wanting to do something, anything to help. Bruce finally stands, ready to put on his suit and just take the damn Zeta tubes to Paris. Who gives a damn about Hawkmoth, his daughter needs him. He’s just about to walk away when he sees it. The pure white butterfly flying out of Mr. Bug’s yoyo. Bruce inhales sharply, watching the wave of light and tiny ladybugs sweep across the city. He watches as Adrien slides the victim a card before swinging away. Watches as he doesn’t reappear. The camera zooms in to the area he’d flown off to, but there was nothing. Zooming back out, the camera focuses back on the news anchor.

“And that’s another akuma, taken down by our brave heroes. Back to you, Jean Marc.” She says with a tense smile. And the footage cuts out. It’s no more. No one moves. No one speaks. Everyone just stares at the blank screen. The screen where they’d watched Marinette be stabbed. Where they’d seen a sword go through her chest. Bruce clenches his jaw, trying desperately to stop himself from crying.

“I’ll be back.” He says gruffly, leaving his seat to go and put on his suit. There was no way she was gone. He wouldn’t accept it. So, he was going to go to Paris. He’d find her and wrap her up in some goddamned bubble wrap and make sure that his daughter didn’t get stabbed again. God, she has to be okay. His thoughts are frantic as he moves swiftly towards his suit, his thoughts only of getting to Paris. Getting to Paris, and finding Marinette. A sudden flash of light brightens the cave and Bruce instantly gets into a fighting position, watching the light turn into a circle. A portal, right in the middle of the Bat Cave. His breath catches as he watches two figures fall through the portal. Adrien, obviously still in spots. And the girl next to him….he frowns, not quite recognizing her.

“Kaalki, dismount.” The girl says, a soft light flashing over her. Bruce freezes, eyes scanning his daughter as she smiles awkwardly. Glancing over her, reminding himself that she’s there. She’s alive. He crosses to her in three large steps and drops to his knees in front of her so that they’re on eye level.

“Never do that again.” He begs, voice breaking slightly as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. She’s alive. She’s okay. She’s alive.

---

Marinette buries her face in her father’s shoulder, tightening her hold on him. He was the only parent that knew she was Ladybug. The only one who would be affected by seeing her stabbed on live tv. Coming to see him directly after the battle was all she could think of when she woke up. She knew she had to see her dad and her brothers. Reassure them that she was still there.

“I’m so sorry Dad.” She chokes out, tears running down her face as she remembers the pain of being stabbed in the chest. The way her vision went dark. The way the blood felt as she choked on it. She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing shakily as she holds onto him for dear life, barely registering when more warmth surrounds her. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know what it is. Her brothers, all hugging her. Surrounding her, making sure she’s there. She sighs in relief, glad that they’re all there. Glad that she’s able to hug them again.

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[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #27: Injured

Warnings: left to care for injuries alone, thoughts of death, torture, vomit, hallucinations, fever, hurt villain whumpee

Villain fumbled with his doorknob until it opened. He collapsed with it, using only his momentum to shut the door behind him. Immediately, he slumped against it as the world around him slowly started to fade to black.

When he regained consciousness a few moments later, he momentarily forgot where he was. The pain was so great that it blocked any thoughts from slipping into his mind. He mouth tasted like blood and when he licked his damp lips, he realize that they were covered in blood.

The memories flooded into his mind like a wave, fast and overwhelming. There was Supervillain and Hero and then... Villain choked back tears. Hero abandoned him... she...

Darkness threatened to overcome him again as his mind raced with thoughts. He blinked it away and allowed his gaze to drift down to his thigh. A dagger was in the side, pushed through all the way to the hilt. Villain, with shuddering breaths, grabbed onto it with sticky hands and pulled.

A white flash of pain exploded in front of hid eyes. He let go, his body going slack and his mind spiraling down through a tunnel of oblivion.

The last thing his clouded eyes saw before he blacked out again was new blood pouring out of his wound.

He sat like that for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he found himself face first into a cool, wooden floor and other times, his cheek was leaned against a cushioning substance. He just barely tried to wonder what was going on. It really didn't matter, and the agony made sure of that.

Once, he woke up enough to drag his broken body to a cupboard. He breifly considered how smart he was to keep his first aid box in a low one before pain consumed him once again. His shaking arms threatened to give out he half hoped that they did.

Villain collapsed to the ground, but didn't pass out. He weakly grabbed to the door of the precious cupboard and opened it. Quickly, he grabbed the kit and opened it.

And then he vomitted without warning, right onto his floor. It racked his broken ribs as they moved with the motion. He began to cough until he started spatting up blood.

His face sunk into the blood and puke, exhausted. He wanted so desperately for someone to find him and help him. He closed his eyes, swimming through his memories. He knew that no one would come, the one that would betrayed him, so he had prioritize injuries.

A boot clashed with his ribs, snapping and breaking them.

A spud bar hit his finger, severing it off.

Another boot hit his jaw. There was a crack right?

Hands grappled at his throat while others tied a heavy chain right above his hips.

He was dragged through barbed wire, glass, and nails.

Tears flowed freely from Villain's bloodshot eyes. The salt stung the open cuts on his cheeks. Sure he was a villain, but did he deserve this? Did he deserve to be tortured half to death and then have to lick his wounds by himself? His head lolled to the side. He didn't know what to do. In the back of his head, he was vaguely aware that shock and adrenaline was preventing the true onslaught of pain from attacking.

He groaned. He had to take care of himself before he was unable to. He opened the first aid box and grabbed guaze pads and other supplies. The dagger was the first to be removed and it would bleed, a lot.

He wrapped a towel into a roll and placed it in between his teeth. The fabric tasted funny from being mixed with all the ointments, but Villain could care less.

His hands then went to the hilt and he hesited. What if he lost consciousness again? He could wake up in complete agony and would die of infection.

Villain pushed those thoughts aside and wrapped his hands around the dagger. Before he pulled, he realized that he was using his hand with four fingers, yet he felt no pain. His heart started beating in anticipation.

Drawing in a deep breath, Villain pulled the dagger out.

Only it stopped half-way out. Villain took in shaky breaths and blinked away the black splotches in his vision. It was barbed.

"Mm," Villain groaned, laying his head back down. He swallowed the limited saliva he had. This was impossible.

More tears spilled. Villain spit out the towel. It fell out, but landed on his cheek, irritating it. He weakly raised his hand to brush it off, but it didn't work. He tried again. No luck. He tried again until frustration allowed him to kick out.

Pain erupted through his leg, centering on the dagger. Villain screamed, loud and laced with sobs.

"I-it hurts," he cried as if someone was with him, tending to him. "It hurts soo bad."

The adrenaline disappeared, leaving Villain beyond tired with a dagger half-stuck in his flesh. Hero would have someone to take care of her. Heck, she would be so pumped full of painkillers that she wouldn't feel a thing as she drifted in and out of lala land. And here Villain was, completely alone without even a simple, warm hug.

He allowed his eyes to slip shut, knowing that sleep could act like a painkiller. But it didn't come, pain kept him awake just like it brought unwanted unconsciousness.

His eyes danced back towards the dagger. Maybe his brain would shut down if he accomplished that one simple task.

Villain dug his fingers into the gnarled flesh, clenching his teeth in pain. He worked to dislodge the dagger until it broke free, clattering on the ground.

Villain sighed in relief, but was caught mid sigh when blood started pouring out the wound at a crazy fast speed. Villain lunged forward, grabbing the towel and earning a broken scream from his throat. He pressed the towel to his thigh, but his arms were not strong enough the staunch the flow.

"Hero," Villain cried. As weak as it was, it sounded booming to Villain's desperate ears. Unless, it was his foggy mind playing tricks on him. Making it seemed like he could call Hero and she would come running. Heck, would he even start hallucinating that she was indeed here?

Villain finally was able to stop the blood flow. His trembling hands hovered over the hydrogen peroxide, but he decided against it. Pouring that over the wound would make it hurt. And hurt was not on Villain's wishlist.

He instead reached for a gauze pad and gingerly laid it over the gaping injury. His shaking fingers applied medical tape over the pad.

When he was done, he closed his eyes. His head limply hung over his chest. His lips turned up in a slight smile as exhaustion pulled him under like anesthesia.

Villain came to only a few minutes later- maybe ten, but to him, he felt like hours. He so desperately wanted to sink back into sleep when he remembered what happened. His mouth was oddly dry had an unpleasant taste in it.

"Hero," he whispered, lifting his head up only for it to flop forward again.

The gauze pad was now stained with blood, but Villain had neither the energy or the will to take care of it. His whole body ached, especially at his jaw. He moved it, testing it, but it creaked and fired up in agony. Broken.

Villain closed his eyes again. He tried not to, but his thoughts drifted to the long list of priorities he came up with. His finger was long gone and he wouldn't be able to care for his jaw. The bruises on his hip bones would fade as would the surface cuts on his face.

He could wrap his ribs up, but he wouldn't be able to get his arms around to his back.

His back.

He knew that he had glass and nails stuck in it. He knew that it would get badly infected within a couple days.

If he lived that long.

Villain shut his eyes close momentarily. He would live. He wouldn't give Supervillain or Hero the satisfaction of killing him.

Fueled by motivation, Villain shot to his feet. He immediately regretted it, however, when the world tilted and collapse in on itself. He blinked back the dizziness, gripping the counter like his life depended on it. In a strange way, it did.

Villain pushed himself towards the bathroom, sometimes having to lean against walls when a sudden wave of wooziness threatened to make him crumple. But he went on like a determined father in a snowstorm, trying to get home to his freezing wife and kids with firewood.

Villain finally reached the bathroom, triumphant, but he instantly fell onto the ground and threw up again. On his way down, he smacked his head against the tile floor.

A loud sob escaped his throat as he realized his dire situation. The previous energy faded into frustration and anger, but mostly exhaustion and loneliness. He pictured the thought of an injured Hero lying in a hospital bed.

She wouldn't be covered in sweat and vomit.

She wouldn't be lying on her bathroom floor.

She would be cared for.

Villain buried his head into the crook of his elbow, wiping snot and tears on it as he dived back into sleep.

Villain woke up on a couch. He didn't recall dragging himself onto it, but one glanced at the blood smeared floor confirmed that he indeed did.

His head felt like a hammer was hitting it. He groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. Almost instantly, he pulled backwards shocked.

His forehead waa sweaty and burning.

Villain looked at his thigh and saw it festered and puffy. He knew that his back was no better.

And now he had a fever. Fabulous.

Within the next two days, Villain tried to tend to ongoing fever with little luck. He contemplated wasting the energy to drag himself to a phone and call 911, but decided against it.

He also started hallucinating.

Apparitions of Hero and Supervillain's face danced across his hazy vision. The floor around him also turned to lava. Between these realistic (according to Villain) and the burning pain of a fever, he was in a hole of misery.

Once he even woke up on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the bath tub. Tylenol pills were strewn all over the floor in a sloppy attempt to take a few. A thermometer also made its home by Villain's feet. The number still read 104.

He shouldn't be alive.

It was a miracle, really, but part of him wanted to die and leave this mess.

"Hero," he would sometimes cry out. He wanted her- needed her. He hurt, oh so bad, and was scared and alone.

In his short spans of consciousness, he would take in his surroundings the same way each time. Look around, look at leg, and then give in again.

He remained in the bathroom, but was now collapsed on the floor, unable to do more than lift his finger.

Hero wondered what happened to Villain after beating him up. Many times, she wanted to go see, but she also feared her sister, Supervillain.

Not that Hero did not take any pleasure in injuring Villain; it was quite satisfying in an extent, but her sister went extreme when she did not allow Villain any care.

So what brought Hero to Villain's doorstep that evening? She didn't know. All she knew was that the second no one answered the door, she had this need to barge in and find Villain.

And find him she did.

Only it was not the sight she was hoping for.

Villain was passed out of the bathroom floor, shivering like a dog with hypothermia. He was covered in sweat, blood, and vomit. Wounds that covered his exposed back were deeply infected with pus.

Hero did not hesitate. She ran to Villain and scooped his figure into her arms, guilty and mortified. She allowed this to happen.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek. "Wake ul for me, will you?"

No response.

"Villain?" Hero asked, starting to rock. Villain's eyes fluttered and he looked up at the hero in fear.

"Wha-wha," Villain tried to speak, but his heavy tongue made it difficult. He decided to just snuggle into Hero, happy to not be lonely.

"I'm so sorry," Hero reached forward and grabbed the thermometer. Villain opened his mouth willingly, but whimpered when Hero stuck the point under his tongue.

It beeped. 104.

Hero stood up with Villain still hanging limply in her arms. She would fix this.

She promised.

[babyboy-cody]

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

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Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

[rowansparrow]

By Any Other Name: Chapter Nine (READ WARNINGS)

Summary: After devastating news, Rex and Reader must rush to stop Fives from taking drastic action.

Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: There are descriptions of a s*icide attempt in both the italicized sections and non-italicized sections of this chapter. When reblogging this, I ask that you please include a trigger warning in the tags for the safety and comfort of others. Thank you. (If you do not like these themes or these things upset you, DM me and I can give you a quick summary of what happens so you can skip this chapter)

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Echo x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 3.3k of pure agony

A/N: Welcome to hell. 

As always, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight 

It hurt. You had not expected it to hurt. After being numb for so long you thought you were beyond feeling, now.

For a brief moment it had succeeded in distracting you. Your grief, your exhaustion, the numbness that had filled your every moment… it all dissipated between one heartbeat and the next as the blood cascaded down your knuckles. The fractured mirror distorted your reflection. A large piece of glass glared back up at you from the basin of the sink. Your blood steadily dripped onto it from where it streamed down your bloodied hands.

The glass had ribboned your hands where you’d struck the mirror, glass jutting painfully from your skin. But all the same, you felt relieved. You could not stand the sight of your own face anymore. Not when Rose wasn’t there behind you, with his beautiful smile and loving eyes.

Picking up the piece of glass from the sink your body sunk down to the ground. You pressed your back weakly against the wall. It would be so easy. So quick. One quick movement and you’d be dead in a matter of minutes..

You absently noted the blood flowing down your arms at an alarming rate. You felt dizzy, cold. You had obviously injured yourself worse than anticipated. Maybe the decision was made for you and now you’d bleed out on your own...

You were still holding the glass in your red hand when you heard the front door open. Dimly, you registered someone calling your name.

You shifted, deciding to lie against the floor instead. The tile cools your hot cheeks and dried some of your tears. The blood from your hands and arms filled the crevices of the tile, inching towards your face.

You’d locked the refresher door. A knock. Someone was calling your name again.

In your feeble state you thought that the voice belonged to Rose. That Rose had come for you. A weak smile pulled the corner of your lips. He’d just come home from his mission. Rose was looking for you. The world grew quiet and dark around you. Cold. But Rose was calling for you. You could feel his hands on you. They were warm. You gasped upon feeling his hot breath against your lips but felt too weak to open your eyes to see him.

“Wake up.” His voice called, barely a whisper.

You let out a soft sound, trying to reach out to him. To reach Rose.

“Wake up.” Muffled, like he was calling to you from far away.

I’m trying, you wanted to tell him. I’m trying, I’m coming, I love you, I’m coming.

The voice grew louder and you suddenly remembered Rose was dead, cold and buried somewhere far, far away. Somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You gripped the glass tighter and the jagged edges dug even deeper into your flesh.

“WAKE UP!!”

Your eyes flew open. The bright light of the bathroom was partially obscured by the face looming overhead. Groaning, you closed your eyes again. Too bright. Too much. 

“No, no – dammit all! Keep your eyes open! You’re okay. You’re okay! You’re going to be fine.” Fives was frantic, his voice higher than you had ever heard it before. Wild panic flared in his expression. One arm wrapped around your shoulders as he half-held you in his lap, the other hand pressing roughly against your wrist.

“You’re going to push the glass in deeper!” Echo snarled somewhere to your left. You caught a glimpse of him tearing through his pack, a med-kit strewn open on the floor before him.

“She’s karking bleeding, Echo! Give me a better solution if you have one!”

“Both of you stop arguing.” Kix’s voice echoed from a comm-link on the floor near Fives’ thighs. “Focus or she’s going to bleed out. Where’s the worst of it coming from?”

“Her palms – n-no, her wrist. Her left wrist.. it’s bad.” Fives said, looking you over quickly. “Kriff, she’s ripped to hell, Kix.”

“Go away.” You mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

“Respectfully, shut up.” Echo replied, focused as he grabbed one of your arms, finding the wounds without glass in them and wrapping them in bacta patches. Your skin burned as the bacta took effect almost immediately.

“Give me the tweezers.” Fives snapped, pulling your other arm up towards him.

“No, your hands are shaking. Focus on keeping her conscious, I’ll handle the glass.” Echo shook his head and you heard him take a steadying breath. “What were you thinking, mesh’la?”

You saw blood – your blood – on Echo’s gloves and Fives’ armor plates. You wondered if Rose had bled when he died too, or if his heart stopped beating instantly.

“You aren’t kriffing dying.” Fives hissed. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud. “Echo? How’s it coming?” He demanded.

“Almost got it.” Echo murmured, his tweezers focused on your hands as he plucked the glass quickly from your skin.

“I’m almost there.” Kix’s voice echoed across the comm-link again. “The Captain is with me.”

“Got it!” Echo was triumphant, flinging the last bit of glass aside and ripping a bandage open with his teeth. He passed a second one to Fives as he wrapped the biggest of your injuries. “This’ll hold until Kix can get a look at her.”

Fives sagged with relief, muttering a prayer to whatever gods were listening before turning his head to the comm-link. “Should we move her?”

“No, keep her still. I’m coming up now.”

You felt Fives’ gloved hand brush against your cheek, clearing away tears you hadn’t realized you’d been crying.

“It’s alright, we’ve got you.” He murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”

~

You lost count of how many hours you’d stayed curled up on the couch, sobbing against your knees.

When Fives had broken the news about Echo you wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to break things, hurt people and wail to the gods; why, why, why would they let this happen again!

But you did none of those things. Instead you took a steadying breath, trying to keep yourself together.

“What can I do?” You whispered. “Fives, what do you need?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Fives seemed oddly calm himself. “I think – think I might be in shock, still.”

“Should I call Rex?” The tears were coming but you kept your voice in check. “Do you want me to meet you at the base? I can wait for you right outside the watch posts -.”

“No. I think I need to be around vode for a little bit.” His voice cracked slightly on the Mando’a word and your heart clenched.

“Okay. I’m here, whatever you need.”

“Are you okay on your own?”

Your heart twisted all over again. Fives had just lost his twin and he was still worrying over you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me. Fives, I’m so sorry.”

“I – I couldn’t keep him safe.” Fives whispered. “Kriff, I’m the last one. I’m the only one left.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one left.” He mumbled. “I can’t.”

“Fives? Talk to me.”

He hadn’t responded. Instead letting the call end with the soft click of his communicator. Then you’d finally allowed the tears to flow.

It was the soft knock on your door that finally pulled you from your stupor. With that, you rose to your feet sluggishly, wiping hot tears as the door slid open.

Rex’s expression softened the second he took in your face. “C’mere.” He murmured, stepping into the apartment and pulling you gently into his arms. His armor was uncomfortable, but you tucked your head against his chest nonetheless, finding comfort in his actions.

“How’s he doing?” Rex asked softly, pulling away and wiping at your tears with his gloved hand. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get over here. I… I came as soon as I could -.”

“Who?” You sniffed, your breathing still a little shaky.

“Fives.” Rex repeated. “Is he in your room?”

“He isn’t – he isn’t here.” You mumbled, taking a slow breath. “He said he wanted to stay with the boys tonight..”

Rex screwed up his face in confusion for a moment. “Okay. Alright, cyar’ika, hang tight.” He guided you back to the couch, settling you against the cushions before heading into your kitchen, talking softly into his comm-link as he went.

“Anybody have eyes on Fives?”

You were too far from him to hear the responses of his men. When Rex returned to you a few moments later with a cup of water, you accepted it gratefully and listened in.

“Negative sir, thought he was dismissed?” Came Hardcase’s response.

“He was. I sent him to Y/Ns’ but he’s not here.” Rex replied, his voice measured.

“He told me he was staying on base.” You repeated.

“I know, little one.” Rex sat a little closer, putting a comforting arm around you. “When we landed, I told him to come straight here and wait for me. I even had Kix file a medical report giving him additional leave.” Rex redirected his attention to his comm. “Kix, have you seen him?” 

“Not since you landed, sir. He came by asking for Downers. Said he just wanted to sleep.”

Rex’s expression darkened. “Did you give him any?”

“Negative. Just told him about the medical leave and sent him on his way.”

There was something about the way Rex’s expression tightened, the way in which his jaw was set a little too tense, that made your gut knot.

“Rex?” You asked him quietly.

“Nobody’s seen him anywhere on base?” Rex repeated.

“I can ask around, sir. But I don’t think he’s here.” Jesse said.

“Maybe he went to 79’s? Or the Lounge?” You suggested.

Rex nodded absently though you could tell he was still concerned. Regardless, he focused back on you. “What do you need?” He asked softly. “Have you eaten?”

“I…” You shook your head, unable to stop your next words. “..I need Echo back.”

You knew it didn’t help anyone to say it but you couldn’t stop yourself. Rex squeezed your shoulder gently though his eyes avoided your own.

“I know, cyar’ika. I know.”

“What – what happened?”

Rex sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “They blew up our ship.” He said finally. “Echo was.. He was too close.”

You felt the tears start up fresh and you buried your face in your hands. Rex’s hand moved to your back and began a soothing rhythm. 

At least it had been quick. Quick and painless, just like Rose -.

Each thought that raced through your brain tumbled over the next, remembering suddenly what you’d been doing before Fives called you.

“Rex,” You lifted your head, swiping at the tears again. “Rex, about – about what happened with -.”

“Hold on.” He cut you off, his communicator beeping at him again as he flicked it on. A little holo-projection appeared before the two of you, a single red blip beeping on the map.

“What is that?” You asked.

“Fives’ location. Er, his armor at least. There are trackers embedded in clone armor, so we can find our people if anyone goes MIA.” Rex answered, distracted, zooming in on the blip. “Looks like he’s right outside the Lounge.”

You frowned and looked a little closer. You recognized the topography, the layouts of the building, the way the blip flickered just slightly off the Lounge itself -.

“Rex.” You murmured. “He isn’t outside the Lounge, he’s above it.” You looked up at him, eyes alit with worry. “He’s on the roof. On the landing platform. I’m sure of it.”

You thought back to his call. The way his voice shook, how unsteady and yet oddly calm his demeanor was. The cadence of his breathing. The fear, the grief, the loss.

“We… We talked before.” You said quietly. “He said he couldn’t be the only one left.”

You had heard stories from your boys. They’d told you about Domino Squad. About how their brotherhood was the only thing that had kept them going through all the loss.

And now Fives was on the roof.

You and Rex both reached the same conclusion. He leapt to his feet, opening your front door and flying down the hall, you hot on his heels. There was no time for hesitance.

“Do you have a speeder?!” Rex shouted over his shoulder. He was darting down the stairs, too impatient to wait for a turbolift.

“Yes!” You shouted back, heart pounding in your chest. You held your communicator in one hand, taking the stairs two at a time as you frantically tried calling Fives. Rex was doing the same thing a few feet in front of you.

His feet hit the ground first, peeling across the hangar bay floor towards the docks. “Which one?!”

“Here!” You shouted back, grabbing your speeder. He swung one leg over and mounted it quickly. You hopped on behind him and held tight to his waist with one arm while your other one kept trying to call Fives. “Fives, pick up!! Answer me!”

A rare Coruscanti thunderstorm peeled across the horizon, rain smacking your face like bullets, despite the bit of cover Rex’s back gave you.

“Kix, how close are you to the Lounge?” Rex shouted into his own communicator, whizzing through traffic as fast as your speeder would go.

“Er, I’m still on base sir, is everything -.”

“Get to the lounge, now!” Rex ordered. “As fast as you can.”

“Yes sir.” Kix knew better than to question the Captain. 

Rex gunned it, forcing you to hold on tighter.

You made it to the lounge in record time. Rex forced the speeder into a slide as he came to a stop right by the front doors. He wasted no time, bolting into the club and vaulting over the bar, booking it for the back stairs. You followed a few breaths behind, taking the stairs two at a time and throwing the doors to the roof open.

The rain battered the rooftop, the neon from surrounding buildings reflecting back onto the rain, but you barely noticed the rain. Your eyes were trained on Rex, his hands raised to the level of his shoulders, extended slightly in front of him in surrender. Ahead of him, gripping the railing of the loading dock with one hand and a blaster pistol in the other, was Fives.

Even from a distance, you could see the wild look in Fives’ eyes. It was easy to see the state of manic desperation he was experiencing. The rain and wind whipped around him, the old dock groaning and jerking in the storm.

“Get down from there!” You shouted, starting to move towards him. It was then that you realized the blaster pistol in his hand was trained on Rex. Then as you took a step forward, it moved to you instead.

“DON’T KARKING MOVE!” Fives shouted. Lightning cracked behind him, briefly illuminating all three of you.

Rex shifted immediately, pushing you behind his back with one hand and keeping the other extended. “Easy, soldier.” He called, blinking away the rain on his lashes.  “Come down off that thing. Let’s talk, alright?”

“I’m not going to talk to you about a kriffin’ thing!” Fives shouted back, switching the blaster back to Rex. Whether it was rain or tears on his face, you couldn’t be sure. You thought it might have been both. “You made me leave him!”

“He was gone, Fives!” Rex said, shaking his head. “You know that.”

“No! Y-you left him to die!” Fives’ voice broke, the blaster shaking in his grip. His hair clung to his forehead as the rain continued its barrage against him.

Fives gripped the blaster tighter and straightened up slightly to square his shoulders. “I’m done taking orders.” He snarled. “I’m not going to be a pawn anymore! Not to you, not to anyone else.”

“Fives,” Rex warned and took another step forward. Fives pulled the blaster towards himself, driving it up under his chin instead.

“I can’t do this, sir.” He whimpered, pressing the barrel against his jaw. “I can’t.” His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Fives, think about what you’re doing!” Rex shouted, stepping forward again. “Stop!”

“I wish it had been you.” Fives gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Alright!” Rex threw his hands in the air again. “Alright, be angry at me! Hate me all you want, I can handle that! But don’t punish her like this.”

Fives looked at you for just a moment. His dark eyes swirled with a pained melancholy that broke your heart. HIs posture seemed to dip inwards. Rex continued.

“You get to be angry at me. Gods know I’d be angry too.” Rex called, inching closer to the platform. “But she’s right here, Fives. She’s watching you. Don’t make her watch this. This is between you and me, yeah? Don’t bring her into this.”

Fives hesitated.

You inched around Rex, keeping your hands outstretched in front of you like Rex had been doing, reaching for Fives. “It’s okay.” You said, your own tears streaking your cheeks as you edged onto the platform with him. “It’s okay. Let’s just go home, okay? We can go home, Fives. We can just go home.”

You realized he was shaking, his breathing ragged as tears and rain soaked his face. He crumbled in on himself, the blaster lowering just slightly as you cupped his cheeks in your hands.

“Come on. Put it down. Let’s go home.”

Fives leaned into your touch and gripped the gun tighter.

“It’s not home anymore.”

He brought the blaster back under his chin and closed his eyes.

“Fives, don’t!!” 

Your scream was lost in the sound of the thunder, wind whipping the platform once again and knocking you and Fives off-balance. His blaster went off, the stray bolt sailing up into the dark sky instead of into his head as the platform creaked dangerously. The sudden jolt forced Fives to his knees and the blaster clattered out of his hand. The metal dipped, the platform dropping at a sharp angle, threatening to fall entirely. You landed in a roll, tumbling down the slippery metal, your hands scrambling for purchase as the platform went out from under you. You heard Rex shout your name and a beat later a hand was on your bicep, hauling you off the ground and shoving you back towards the stable ground of the roof.

You connected with the hard plastoid of Rex’s armor, Fives scrambling off the platform right behind you as the entire thing collapsed moments after you’d landed on the roof. You listened to the groan of metal as it broke away from the rooftop, descending from the sky until it clattered against the ground below. The sound reverberated across the buildings around you.

For a while the three of you were frozen in place, squinting through the rain at the empty space where the landing platform had occupied only moments ago.

“Sir!” Kix’s voice echoed from the far-end of the rooftop, the medic’s boots skidding through the puddles and coming to a stop beside the three of you. “Are you alright? What the kriff happened?”

“We’re okay.” Rex managed, turning to Fives. The ARC Trooper’s sobs had returned but were reduced to little more than gasping breaths, trying to steady himself in the aftermath of what he’d almost done.

Rex wrapped an arm around both of you, pulling you both against his shoulders and closed his eyes. Relief.

“We’re okay.” 

---

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[kainscape]

Unfiltered Grief ~ Bo Sinclair: TW Reader Death, (Detailed Gore?)

AN; wrote this before and after crying to the music video of Logic: 1-800 at 3-4am.

The clear sweat beading on his forehead had slithered down to mix and swirl with the crimson blood on his face. He had come down with a terrible rage fit, his hunting for the visitors distressing and shameful. It had smelt and looked like a blood bath, multiple bodies thrown around and battered. Some looked to be beyond human, too morphed through horror and physical actions.

It would seem to be just another common day for the oldest Sinclair, luring in the soon victims and passing them off to his brother. But, you had finally convinced Bo through words and actions to let you help with that part of the town. You were confident in your abilities to protect yourself and the brothers if needed, but you would mainly reel them in through words.

Most of the group were tall, muscular players. Quick with their tongues and bodies, a strong component for both of you. The plan was to pick them off, one by one and return them to Vincent. Well, it was the plan until they caught on. It was unexpected and quick, and fucking ruthless. It turned into the hunter falling into the hunted, Bo yelling at you to run, anything to get away from them as they chased you out the front of the gas station and him through the back yards of the neighbor hood.

You knew to listen to Bo, knowing that he would never tell you to run from the fight unless it was something no one could handle. You were agile and quick, the adrenaline helping you maneuver you limbs in a way you didn't know you could. Your mind was flushed of bad endings like it was trying to make you give up all hope. You were moreover pissed at your boyfriends need and jealousy as he tried to take on the group in 'secret.' It just made things inevitable for you.

The same couldn't be said for Bo, his height and built frame able to fight off one or two as he ran inside the familiarized houses. Some he would throw the kitchen knives that tested his skills. Others it was up to fate if he could get out fast enough. Though, not even the rapid heart clenching up in his chest or the stampeding footsteps behind him could distract him from you.

Out of all the times his arrogance and temper caused him more trouble than he bargained for, it had to be with you on the line too. Bo wasn't one to admit that his strength was outnumbered, yet here he was telling you and himself to run from the group. It was odd and nerve racking, getting a taste of how it felt to actually be scared your life was falling from you.

Not long after you guys separated, had he got rid of the three chasing him in the storage placed filled with vehicles from the now wax figures. His mechanics suit seemed as though it was supposed to be covered in this color, the unsettling amount of blood drenching almost the entire length of it. Now he could focus on you. Where were you. Are you seriously hurt. Had they killed you and left you there to die alone.

It all mattered on him getting there on time, something he kept at the front of his mind. He stopped his walk out the building, trying to handle his train wreck of thoughts. He had to be calm if he wanted to find you alive. It was interrupted by your yelling and screaming, one thing he wish he'd never hear. His body had already reacted, sprinting to the sounds origin.

What he came across, he believed it would be best if you never lived to love him. Never lived long enough to see him hold you in his arms. If he had just given you over to Vincent. Just so he never had to see this and so you could be clamped in the jaws of death instead of torture. Your broken body laid out on the road, the men long gone.

It didn't matter if they were watching for some sick amusing joke or if they had gone looking for him, Bo could not stop himself as he slid down beside you, locking in on the slow and agonizing breaths you took. To be honest, it was traumatizing to look at you. The scarring on Vincent's' face closely resembling yours now. He had to turn his head, taking a minute to move the image out of his head. He looked back, swallowing down the vile throw up inching through his throat.

He placed you where your face was away from him, wanting to keep you close without losing it. There was no possible way for you to be able to see, the blood seeping from your eye sockets as they turned white. Your blood soaked back rested against his chest, the struggled breaths rattling against him.

Bo's arms had a place around your waist, pulling you against him. It was now a matter of time before you were ripped away from his arms. It all came racing through him. Guilt. Agony. Sorrow. Anger. It spilled from his heart like it was part of his body. There was no way for him to stop the tears draining his eyes and falling against your dislocated shoulder. Once more, he was broken from the memories he played back with you as he slowly lost himself. 

The scratchy and aching voice was forced from you, some words Bo couldn't place. He believed he was just hearing you try to comfort him, letting his mind ease himself as he let you leave him. The violent cough shaking your form as it released more blood told him that he wasn't just imagining. He leaned closer, his head going past your shoulders. Never had he heard his voice so weak and shattered as he spoke to you.

"Can you say that again, sweetheart. I didn't catch ya'.." He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain kicking at his mind and fueling his body with remorse. The droplets stained his skin as new ones fell once more, blurring his vision.

"please.. just finish.. kill me.." He couldn't ever express the dread and absolute terror that shattered his soul, tarnishing it with no mercy. You were begging him to kill you. To let you leave this pain fueled body and go somewhere new. There was no way he was capable of that, letting you vanish from his doing.

Yet, there was a creeping feeling roaring at the back of his head. The possessive part of him whole-heartedly wanting you to die by no one else but his hands. It was disgusting and sickening to him. Your shattered body manage to raise the bruised arm, revealing the red stained knife still within your frail hands. It was the present Bo had granted you on one of your birthdays, his and your initials chiseled into the handle.

The more he sat there, wallowing in his grief and mourning, the more he let you suffer with your wounds. A shaky and calloused hand slipped into yours, the blade now in his. The metal reflected the light coming from one of the poles behind him. The weak arms had no more strength as they fell limp at your side, the blood draining from your veins.

His body was frozen over, the panicked thoughts of saving you had been pushed to the front. It was fruitless thinking, not possible in your state. Even if he did miraculously manage to save you, it would be miserable, the wounds you sustained leaving an ever lasting impression.

Bo reeled himself in, his hand adjusting to the small handle. It was a slow line to your hearts resting place, stopping just before it touched you. He was now letting the tears travel to any spot they desired, his nose running and face red. Why was this so fucking hard. He had done it numerous times to others. Perhaps it was the silent and special bond he formed over the years of being with you.

Nothing mattered now, all that did was following your request. His other hand came to help, the palm resting against the hilt. He would count to help him. "I'll see you again, angel.." It was barely audible, as if he was telling himself that. 'Three..' He had to do this, he needed to be the one to take your life. It was his alone to do so. 'Two..." What happens after this. Would he just carry on like he did when he was alone before; trudging on his last days with the regret of not saving you. "One.." He would find out soon enough.

It was quick, his hand slamming down as the silver blade poked your heart. Your last jolt of nerves moving against it as you came back down, the last breath leaving your body. You went limp against his shaking body. He couldn't keep the screams from tearing out his mouth, the sobs and yelling echoing out for anybody close enough to hear.

It was anguish in its own form, swelling up in him for a permanent home. The night went on, the sun now peeking up against the trees. The world acted as though nothing happened, time still carrying on. Bo would lay there, your corpse still resting against him as any light drained from his eyes. The only light now was the shine from the sun, a worthless attempt to return something to never be found again.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

May I request something where Leonardo and reader are really good friends and reader gets kidnapped and turned into a mutant. Leo blames himself, but reader reassures him it’s not his fault and they end up kissing. 💙💙

I'm To Blame [Leo x Mutated!reader]

Being turned into a mutant becomes the least of your problems when your closest friend believes it to be his fault. No one could have predicted what was going to happen; no one can control everything in their life. If only Leonardo would have realized that.

It started as leverage-abduction. The Turtles confront them, or you be pumped full of mutagen. Or worse.

The bait had been set, and the boys had no choice but to take it. Hook, line, sinker. You were held in a Foot-controlled lab, bound next to a glass canister of the ooze, a line in your arm and only the clan scientist in control of the drip standing between you and a possibly grotesque fate. You struggled and squirmed, but it was no use; there was no escape on your own.

There was a crash outside the lab doors, men shouting, guns firing, but bursting through the doors were your four saviors. Your friends, allies, and family. Leo fought his way to the front, a new kind of urgency consuming him as the gravity of the situation hit him. Any closer, and you would be mutated.

"Halt!" a soldier shouted over the clamor, a team of heavily armed men forming a semicircle around you and the scientist.

A hand grabbed hold of the back of your neck, yanking you toward him. He forcefully stretched your arm out and displayed the tube, making a note of their predicament, and the boys grimaced. Raph growled that deep, rage-fuelled rumble, while Donnie felt a shudder run up his spine seeing the canister of mutagen. What DNA the concoction was infused with, they had no idea of. There could have been anything in there. If the dosage wasn't carefully monitored, she could be killed!

"Weapons down, turtles, or this girl will be transformed right in front of you," the scientist said coolly. Leo stepped forward, blade drawn and teeth bared, but a warning shot was fired into the wall next to them. Mikey yelped and ducked into Raph, who blocked him partially with his huge frame. The scientist leaned down and inspected the canister, humming, "It seems like this batch is highly unstable. Is this a game you want to play, mutants?"

"You're bluffin'," snarled Raph, and his hands gripped his sais impossibly tighter.

The scientist raised his brows, his free hand wandering to the activator to the mutagen. One tap of a button, and your humanity would be ripped away. "Perhaps. But can you really be sure?" he inquired almost casually. "Only one flex of my finger, and we'll see."

Clenching his jaw, Raph shifted, lowering his weapons a little.

Leo mentally gauged the man power that was currently present. They could take them, he knew they could!

But Leo couldn't trifle with the canister currently attached to you. Breathing heavily, he dropped his swords, which clanged loudly on the floor. His eyes met yours, solemn, and you broke into a violent fit.

"Leo!" you cried out, lunging forward as he told his brothers to stand down. "Don't do this! Please, please, get out of here!"

He only shut his eyes, and with a wave of his hand, they all let go of their weapons in succession.

"We're not going to leave you!" Donnie yelled in return, his voice shaky.

There was a deafening silence in which it felt like a standoff, the boys panting, trying to formulate a battle plan in their heads. Leo stared at the scientist with one of the most hate-filled gazes you'd ever witnessed.

One of the soldiers in the back turned halfway around and whispered something into his earpiece.

The hefty metal doors right behind them flung open, a line of large men clad in black carrying what looked like modified cattle prods. The rods popped with electric currents as they closed in on the boys, who were only able to whirl around quick enough to meet the electrified weapons, and were instantly stunned. Currents no human could withstand brought them to their knees, Mikey shouting shrilly as he fell forward.

Groaning, Leo kneeled. He turned to the scientist at your side, his eyes darting between you and him. "You got us. Now let her go," he said. His voice was low and raspy.

Hand hovering over the button, the scientist spoke while he looked you in the eye, "You know, we were short of a healthy test subject."

Mikey gasped and planted his palms on the floor, "You can't do that, man!"

The scientist sighed and looked down at you, who was wildly struggling against your restraints. He muttered in a matter-of-fact tone, "But I can." It seemed that after a moment of contemplation, eyes going out of focus as they fell on your face and the tears running down it, he let out a reluctant groan, and motioned to one of the men behind him. "Take her elsewhere. We'll figure out what to do with her once we get these," he glanced back at the turtles, "squared away. Clear?"

"That wasn't the deal!" roared Leo, rapidly surging toward the scientist. Another electric shock was sent through him, but he kept on, and the brothers all followed suit.

You winced as the clamor rose and all hell broke loose, the boys ripping their weapons away from the men, guns being fired—your ears rang and a bullet even whizzed by your head.

Leo came at the scientist with his blade, the cowardly man trying to duck away in time. Two soldiers came up on their flank, one with a semi-automatic, and the other brandishing the electric rod. Except before they could get close to even shock him, Mikey's nunchucks landed a heavy blow on one of their heads, causing him to stumble toward you.

And fell right onto the button.

"No!" you heard both Donnie and Leo scream as the drip was activated, Mutagen flowing through the tube and into your body.

Everything became a blur. Within minutes you mutated, firstly writhing on the floor in agony as the burning liquid coarsest through you. Bones shifted, tissue changed, muscles spasmed. Your senses were temporarily blinded.

"Idiots!" snarled the scientist, backing away from you as you transformed. Raph was occupied holding off the soldiers. Mikey couldn't bear to watch. Donnie didn't know what to do, and Leo was...devastated.

Your strength grew. You broke free from your restraints. The firefight continued, this time aimed at you rather than just the Turtles. But the boys wouldn't let them hurt you. In your panic, you'd almost attacked them—your family. Leo hollered at Donnie and Mikey to get you out of there while they covered you, and seconds later, you were all barrelling out of the facility, alarms blaring, guns sounding, men shouting.

Yes, the Mutagen was highly unstable. You couldn't control yourself. And your body, it wasn't done reacting to the ooze.

You didn't know what happened next. You fell unconscious just after escaping. The last thing you can remember is Leo catching you in his arms. Him helping to carry you back home, to the lair. Your new home. You were one of them, now.

Breathing labored, you sat up on the metal table you had been laid on by Donnie. He'd checked your vitals already. Needless to say, so early in your mutation, things were not looking the best. But you would pull through; he was sure of it.

The first face you sas upon waking up was Leo's, worried. His eyes flitted all over you. You hadn't yet seen yourself.

"Y/N," he whispered, hands bracing against the edge of the table. "This...this is my fault," he said.

Donnie scuttled by holding a light and examined your eyes, then asked you to move a bit to see if there were any anomalies such as paralysis. You had some trouble adjusting to your new form, but so far, it wasn't dire.

Everyone came and went, hugging you, saying their piece about how happy they were that you were okay—as okay as you could have been—until Splinter noticed Leo's distress. He told the boys to let you two have a minute alone. Splinter left himself, as well.

The two of you now alone, Leo had a hard time speaking. He couldn't quite find the words to say how sorry he was.

"This isn't your fault," you drawled, still feeling a little loopy from the whole ordeal.

He leaned in, as you couldn't do much beside sit up. "If you hadn't ever gotten involved with us, this would have never happened," he said, lowering his head. "And now you're…"

He paused, and you finished for him, "I'm what? A mutant?" you asked softly. "Leo, I am so lucky to be alive. And it's all thanks to you." He sighed, not believing your words. "They would have killed me, Leo," you added, and took his hands in yours. He looked up at you, blue eyes meeting your own. Had your eye color changed?

"You didn't deserve this," he swallowed.

"Does anyone?"

He stood up. "This happened because I failed, y/n! As a leader, as a friend—"

Not caring about your current state, you slid off the table, landing on your feet with a thud. Your body ached, but you payed it no mind. Leo went rigid as you closed the gap between you two.

Still holding his hands, you told him slowly, "It is not your fault."

Your faces were only a few inches from each other. Unknowing, he gripped your hands. You swore that you could almost hear his heartbeat picking up as you leaned in, lips hovering over his. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but you stopped that thought. "You understand? Not...your...fault…"

His breath hitched when you gently pressed your mouth to his, at first going completely still. But then he closed his eyes, and his arms found their ways around your torso. The kiss was short and gentle, but he was stricken—only when you parted did he whisper a moment later, a new kind of hope inside, "You can live here, with us. You don't have to worry. You shouldn't ever have to worry, y/n."

"I won't worry, Leo," you muttered, letting your head rest on his chest. "Not when you're here with me."

He held you until eventually, everyone filed back in, Splinter smiling warmly at the sight.

[himbo-beel]

His Hands, in Yours

Idle hands led to idle thoughts, and Barbatos’ thoughts traveled endlessly as he moved about the kitchen with little purpose. Breakfast had been made and served and brought back down again; the counters had been wiped down, the dishes stacked in the sink, and the next meal’s courses planned out. Until the young lord’s responsibilities required his assistance, whether it be an energizing cup of tea or motivating catch of an eye, his duties were to him and him alone. 

A rare treat, if he considered the many things he had left untended the previous week. The flowers in the garden were in need of a trim and the decor outside the castle’s walls rearranged to reflect the upcoming holidays. Lucifer had yet to turn in his reports and if both legwork and time could be limited by Barbatos’ assistance, a walk to Lucifer’s office along with a small detour to a tea shop for a sample he had eyed earlier in the week could be of us. 

Barbatos’ growing list of activities was halted in its work at the press of something cold and sharp against his thumb and he glanced down, blinking as future thoughts returned to the present to widen at the sight of a blade of a knife not yet put away pressing a crease into his glove. Carefully, Barbatos and moved to take it from the handle instead and bring it to its companions in the sink. The flowers could wait a moment longer, enough to finish up here, and then he could -

He froze, back stiffening and lungs heavy with the breath he could not exhale as water hit his hand. A mountain, ice at its top, a river at its bottom, cold and fresh as it flowed yet warm where it ran between his fingers to splash against the dishes. A pair of hands, not his own, fitted the sink into the kitchen and Barbatos turned the tap off. He turned his hand over and he finally breathed, shaky, at the sight of a thin sliver of skin between the split seam of a glove. 

Another breath, a long, deep sigh filled with more than just mere memories but of future events, too, passed between thin lips and he slowly peeled the glove off. Such powerful magics so delicately torn by the snapping of the thinnest thread. It would need to be repaired. 

His young Master would not be pleased. Yet, there were worst fates he knew. He knew well. 

Barbatos knew many things. He was aware of his power, of its potency and its latency. Small fragments of its application were useful to keep an eye on the castle and it’s occupants, to prepare for an event of any size or any reason. Devastation and chaos was merely a second away, whether it came in the form of a misspoken word or a missed step or a misplaced item, none of which would escape his eye in neither past or future. Productivity and contentedness came with a perfectly timed warm drink and easily reached new pen, all opportunities that came to mind as naturally to him as they did magically. 

He had no choice, no say, now in how or when or which he could perceive, and Barbatos’ steps were slow and hesitant as he made his way through the castle to Lord Diavolo’s study, flashes of each blinding him with each blink of his eyes. A thousand lights, a thousand worlds, behind closed lids and none born simply of the imagination but of choices and possibilities and Barbatos stumbled the final step, a hand strecthing out to support him as he reached for the door. 

A soft sound of surprise, of regret, of hurt, hissed through pursed lips as bare skin latched onto cold brass. Just as dozens, hundreds of other hands before. Barbatos saw them, one atop the other, an array of shakes and sizes and he pulled back, holding his wrist and tucking his fish against his chest as if burned. 

The door clicked and he took a step back, brows lifting in wonder if he had opened it, if another had, if the future had, and wide eyes lifted to meet Diavolo’s own. 

The surprise reflected in them did not dim and Barbatos cursed himself for not being as prepared as he should have been. This was not a new situation. This was not an unavoidable situation. It would not be the last, either, he knew, and yet he could not shake the weight of unfamiliarity and dusting of uncertainty that settled upon his shoulders. Not in time, at least, for Diavolo to see it. 

“Come in.”

No order could be refuted from his young lord and Barbatos stepped inside. He kept his hands close to his sides. “My Lord-”

“What happened.”

Barbatos spread his hands, his gloves held in them, one sliced along the edge, the other blotched with a singular stain of dark pink. Guilt stayed his words and uncertainly locked his lips and he lowered his eyes to them rather than the growing look of concern on his young lord’s face. Such a gift, so ruined. Such a miracle, so tarnished. His fingers curled around the fabric and he could feel nothing but the lingering warmth of them. 

“I apologize,” he managed. “I was careless when cleaning-”

“Are you hurt?”

Barbatos held his hands out, turning them over for display before tucking them back to his sides. The small cut had long since stopped itself, no need no concern neither now nor later. It was not for his skin, he knew, that Lord Diavolo asked of himself, but it was the only truth he could assure him of. 

Barbatos ducked his head under Lord Diavolo’s frown.  “I need only a new pair before resuming my duties.” 

The creak of the study’s chair echoed in his head. “I can give you a new pair, of course, but I doubt about your duties. New gloves are easily enough acquired but the spell put on them to limit your powers needs time.”

Barbatos could not move, not to nod at his master’s words or turn from the truth or suggest another course of action. There were many others, of course they were, Barbatos could see them all whether he wished to or not. A day spent in agony as he waded through timelines or one spent in darkness as he hid from himself. One spent under the care of his young Lord, suffocating under guilt and false reassurances and a careful eye. One, worst of all, spent outside, unable to enjoy the freedom of a day off given to him. Others and more flooded across his eyes, blocking the sight of the desk and the demon that sat behind it, could not see his hands type furiously on his phone, could not see him rise from his seat in a panic to cross the room, until Barbatos could see nothing but his own swimming vision. 

“Barbatos.”

“My Lord.” He could see him now, golden eyes and a clenched jaw, his hands curled tight around his wrists. He could feel the tease of magic bury itself under his skin and keep his own at bay. The same spell imbued in the threads of his gloves now coursed through his veins and shame was buried beneath relief as his head cleared. 

“Lucifer has something similar to your gloves in his room to use in the meantime. He’ll be bringing it over as soon as he’s able and we can prepare another set. A second one, too, in case this happens again.” Barbatos nodded, eyes slipping closed and reveling in the simple darkness behind them. “Stay here for now. I-”

“My duties, my Lord-”

“Can wait. You’re in no shape for more today.”

The words brook no argument and defiance filled him nonetheless. Confidence born from the moments of relief urged him to decline. “They are simple but important matters.”

“That can be done later. Or tomorrow, even.” Barbatos opened his eyes to give him a level look. “A cup of tea would be nice, I’ll admit.”

“At once, young Master.” 

The tea was brought. The floors were also swept. Lunch that had been previously prepared was taken out and furniture was dusted and silverware polished. Sweat beaded Barbato’s brow. His feet dragged across the floors. His teeth ground against each other as he moved from task to task, visions of times that had happened and not yet come overlaying one on top of the other with each new duty. Diavolo’s spell had long since faded and only rising anxiety made his skin crawl in place of the magic that had soothed his being. 

It could not stop him. It would not stop him. Had he forgotten what he once was? Who he currently was? He had all of time in his hands, the memories of broom or the future of an apple were mere sparks of his abilities. 

Dozens of such sparks were growing to be too much, by the end of the day, and Barbatos leaned against the wall, shoulders heaving with the effort of holding himself up against the timelines that flowed through the halls and threatened to pull him under. 

“Barbatos!”

Was it his young Lord calling for him? Or was it his Father? Lucifer? Which version? His head swam as he tried to place the sound of the voice that called him and tried to recognize the face that neared him at a quick pace. 

It was neither, not Lucifer, not Lord Diavolo, no demon at all. It was you. 

Was Lucifer too busy? Had you come to break the news to him that, he, too, held no hope for him this day? Your face would not be enough to ease the helplessness of such a turn of events but it would be some comfort, at least, to hear your voice break through the noise that filled his head. 

Barbatos stood up straight, ready for whatever words you brought. 

He was not ready for what you did. 

His eyes widened as he took a step back as you neared, arms raised. He could not think to touch you, not like this. How much he wished to. How much he wished to be enveloped in your warmth and your comfort but how much, too, he wished for you and only you. Not your pasts. Not your futures. Only you. 

And yet you came, still. 

Arms raised. 

Hands against his face, palms cupping his cheeks. 

And he felt your heat. He felt the silk of the gloves you wore on your hands, a familiar magic sown into the stitching and a magic that only you and your presence could provide. 

[izzabeean]

Chapter 18 : Awakening

SUMMARY

There's a lot to unpack.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,446

content : profanity

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a/n: I'm sorry this took too long, I've been needing a mental health break with how busy life has become. This chapter is a bit rushed just because I wanted to post it before next week since I've been MIA for so long.

masterlist

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Slowly turning the key, your head starts to spin as you push the front door open to an empty apartment and a mixture of emotions surge through you. Relief that the repairs for your apartment are finally complete and you can move back to the comfort of your own home. Yet sadness swells in your chest at the realization you’ll be alone.

It’s weird. The natural response would be to get out of Oikawa’s apartment as soon as possible, sick of his antics and constant harassment. But for some incoherent reason, a part of you feels hesitant.

This heavy sensation in your chest drags you down as you walk into your apartment -- it seems so much more burdensome than when you left. Everything still feels fresh.

An agonizing pain mixed with confusion emanates off the walls flashing you back to the night Ushijima ending things. Your anxiety grows stronger as you picture his piercing hazel eyes glowering down at you after asking for you back. It's seemingly getting more and more difficult to make a decision as each moment passes and you're feeling inexplicably hopeless.  It's a terrible idea to get back together with him -- just remembering that night makes you sick. We need to talk still haunts you accompanied with his unbothered, stoic expression... Your heart starts to race trying to make sense of what you’re feeling.

Why is everything suddenly so difficult?

You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white. Why does he even want you back? This isn’t something that he should take so lightly, he hurt you. Though you strongly feel anger festering within, a voice keeps whispering in your ear to take him back. You can’t tell if it’s what you truly want or it’s just the fear of disappointing your parents even more.

“How’s it looking?”

Your manic thoughts are pushed away with Oikawa as he walks further into the apartment to take a look around.

The flood -- you’d forgotten about that morning until this moment. Your heart starts beating faster as the memory rushes to the forefront, not just from the panic and frustration of waking up to a submerged apartment, but to the moment of the warmth under the covers with Oikawa’s firm body pressed up behind you. Had Oikawa been holding back the entire night you spent together? Of course, you didn’t know how long he’s had feelings for you, so surely if he did at the time, it must have been absolutely tempting to make a move on you. But why didn’t he? Truthfully, if the situation was switched then you would’ve taken the opportunity to…

“Not bad,” you answer, trying to force an honest smile, but Oikawa sees right through you.

“Why do you do that?” Oikawa says, his voice is tight on the cusp of irritation.

“Do what?” you respond quickly, hoping that he will just let this one go. But he doesn’t.

“Force yourself to smile like that,” he grunts. “You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”

“I’m not--”

“Bullshit,” he retorts with a harsh tone.

You bite your tongue, even more conflicted on what to say.

Oikawa sees that as he analyzes you, he knows it’s not easy for you to talk to him about stuff.  “Is something on your mind?” he asks softly, drawing his frustration back.

It’s hard to process, you’ve felt this heavy feeling for so long, you thought it was normal. The only time you’ve felt any reassurance is in Oikawa’s presence, yet for some reason, today the aching is much more prominent.  Everything feels so nerve wracking. You know he likes you and yet, it makes your heart throb.

“My parents,” you start with your voice a little shaky. “They think they know what’s best for me...”

“For the internship?”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, eyes fixed on the ground. They also think they know it’s best for you to be with Ushijima, but you couldn’t tell Oikawa that. “Everything’s all set up and it could make me successful but…”

You turn away from him so your face is out of his view. The silence stretches between you for a moment. You feel oddly vulnerable, like the slightest touch will shatter you into pieces. If only it was easier to explain the constant pressure you receive from them, you might've tried to laugh about it upon telling him, just to make things a bit lighter. But, it wasn’t something you were ready to dig into.

“Then what do you want?” Oikawa asks, breaking the quietness.

The age old question that’s been going through your head this entire time. Truthfully, some answers seem so vivid now. You don’t want that internship… It’s not something that will excite you in any form. You want to work to achieve something and this feels like it’s just being handed to you because of your parents. There’s no drive for it.

But as for Ushijima, well...

“I don’t know,” you utter, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will,” Oikawa hums, before walking up to ruffle your hair.

Even as he pulls his hand away, his touch is still lingering, forcing you to catch your breath at the sudden surprise. His words are warm and caring as if he truly believes everything will fall into place. You want to believe him. Even the warmth in his eyes almost sways your skepticism, you can feel affection in them, but you can’t seem to grasp onto the hope he has. At this point you’re too stunned to even say a word as you allow your emotions to control you.

“When are you moving back in?” he asks, bringing you back to reality.

“Probably in the next couple days,” you breathe then pause staring at him for a bit while feeling your entire face burn up. An undeniable tension floats in the air and you're struggling to understand if it’s just your mind racing or it’s actually there. The way he manages to get your heart racing out of nowhere, the look he gives you when his chocolate eyes gaze at you, makes you want to melt… “Can you help?”

“Of course.”

------

Now that Iwaizumi is gone, it’s only standard for you to sleep in the guest bedroom. You’re not sure why a room down the hallway was more uncomfortable, but here you were tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. Of course you have other causes to your insomnia, like the pressure of deciding whether or not you should move forward with the internship and whether or not you should get back together with Ushijima. But at the very moment, your head can’t seem to wrap around the idea that Oikawa is just down the hall.

You’ve been living with him for awhile and now you decide to be nervous about it, you think.

Tucking your head under the covers, you take a deep breath inhaling the soft scents of softener and linen, a deep contrast to the sweet scent of citrus mixed with a tinge of oak in Oikawa’s room -- which you’d noticed shortly after is the essence of Oikawa. You clench your jaw, y our brain is all messed up from everything going on. Not to mention it's strange, the way Oikawa’s been so generous lately -- sweet without being boastful or bothersome, completely unlike himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting after your “fight”, but it probably wasn’t this.

You won't be sleeping anytime soon, so you get up and grab your coat, hoping an evening walk will put your mind at ease.

The night is dark and calm as you walk down the street, sidewalk lit by a streetlamp every few steps. Though quiet, your thoughts are louder than ever, pounding at your head hounding you to make a decision. As the cool air picks up and nips at your face, you quickly shove your hands in your pockets full of tissues and a cartridge. Pulling it out, you’re reminded of the evening you first bought the pack of smokes, how your agony ripped you apart to the point you had to turn to a bad habit. The recollection of relief pulsing through your body after inhaling the rich smoke tempted you as you open the pack and take out a stale cigarette that’s a bit crumpled.

The emptiness sets in and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think of what you should do next. For a moment the stress of your future can temporarily disappear with one breath, but how disappointed would Oikawa be if you did so.

That evening, when he called you in the midst of your smoke, he didn’t even know what had happened, but he was still there in a way. His voice echoes your head as he slurs that he hopes Ushijima makes you happy… It makes you hot and flustered. Oikawa always just wants what is best for you. Even if it didn’t benefit him…

You crush the cigarette into your palm and with that a shiver went down your spine. The heavy feeling in your chest seemed to lift itself a little and you almost thought you were standing a bit taller.

------

Fiddling with your pen, you look up once again at the time; class is almost over. Oikawa sits beside you, seemingly locked in on the professor's lecture. It feels unfamiliar to see him taking notes, attentively listening -- his concentration is normally as lacking as yours. Today your attention span is the worst it’s ever been trying to hone in on the dull monotone voice that booms across the class.

Then an idea sparks.

Quickly you try to grab the pen that Oikawa is writing with, but his reflexes are too swift for you as he jerks it away from your reach. A loud obnoxious screech from your chair lurching forward interrupts your professor in the middle of his lesson.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” the professor asks, while everyone’s eyes turn to you.

It’s awkward as you scoff under your breath, but sit up and readjust your seat.

“Y--yes, everything is good,” you say before having the professor return back to his stale lecture.

You let out a sigh while your face gets all flushed. The taste of desperation coats your mouth and it’s so overwhelming that you had to go to uncomfortable lengths just to feel the slightest bit of normalcy between the two of you. There’s just something about the way his irritation spikes through his tight-lipped smile and balling of fists while his eyes glare at you. You missed it.

Suddenly, a quiet snicker sounds beside you. In the corner of your eye, you can see a softness in Oikawa’s appearance and he's slightly smirking. You try not to make it obvious that you notice, but it makes your heart melt a little.

The remainder of the lesson, you continue to replay the way Oikawa’s lips almost turned up to a smile. You wish you got more of a reaction out of him, but it was enough to reassure things.  When the professor gives his final dismissal, Oikawa pops up to pack up his belongings. There’s this longing of wishing you could sit beside him longer as you slowly collect your things.

“Ushiwaka is here,”  Oikawa says, gesturing to the doorway.

You glance at the doorway noticing a familiar figure poking his head in. His eyes survey the classroom and before meeting yours, you quickly dart them away.

“Are you kidding?” you say under your breath, quickly zipping up your bag, feeling a flash of irritation course through your veins. “I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa raises his brow as he watches you speed towards Ushijima. He knew something like this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.

But you weren’t pleased with Ushijima’s appearance.

"What are you doing?” you fume, you were quite pissed off as you pout your lips in petulant annoyance.

“I wanted to walk you to your next class,” Ushijima admits so nonchalantly it grinds your teeth.

"N--no," you reply, losing your focus to Oikawa walking by. “No, I don’t need--”

“I need to make up for the time we’ve lost together,” Ushijima adds, eyes locked on to yours that are wandering past him looking at Oikawa who’s getting further and further away.

"I-- I can’t. Please just… I need more space,” you sputter before swallowing hard your body leading to Oikawa’s direction.

"Take whatever time you need, I'll be waiting,” is what you think you heard from him as you catch up to Oikawa, but you don’t really care because your heart feels like everything you did in the moment was unlawful. You didn’t want Oikawa to get the wrong idea, and you feel like he might have, it makes you sick. Just when things started to repair with him, Ushijima just had to sweep in.

“What did he want?” Oikawa asks, his gaze ahead. “Did you finally accept his proposal?”

“What? No," you answer, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re really taking your time with this aren’t you,” he mumbles. “You better figure it out quick, he’s not going to wait for you forever.”

“He can wait,” you say to which Oikawa glances at you.

You get to a fork in the hallway that branches off to your next class or leads to outside the building. Oikawa raises his hand to bid farewell, but you stop planting your feet and take a deep breath.

“Toru.”

He stops and looks over at you…

“Can you come with me…. to my parents?” you breathe. “I don’t want to do the internship. I just don’t want to go alone to tell them.”

Hesitant of his answer, you wait for his response.

“I’d be happy to.”

----

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whine, abruptly stopping on the sidewalk in front of your parents house. The sun hides behind the dark clouds, almost seeming like a sigh that you shouldn’t move forward with your plan, but gently touches your back.

“It will be alright,” Oikawa says softly as you try to push away the heat of his touch.

You’re sure that because Oikawa is here with you, you can go through with it. Even if you’re on the verge of retreating, it’s in fact, much more relieving to have him support you on the sidelines.

Every ounce of you pushes your body forward towards the front door. The ominous illusion of a stone cold castle looms over you as you press your finger to the doorbell.  The anxiety starts to build up as you look back to Oikawa. He gives you a smile and your face is hot, worried about what's to come from this conversation.

The door unlatches and slowly opens.

“Oh, hello,” your mom says, eyes wide yet narrow glaring down at you. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi,” you respond shyly. You wanted to grab Oikawa’s body to shield you from your mom’s unpleasant aura, but of course you plant your feet. “This is Toru Oikawa.”

Looking back at him to check in and see if he too is incapacitated from her energy. But he isn’t.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a bow.

“How charming, come in!” she greets.

Oikawa straightens up, smoothing out his shirt before fixing his hair. Your eyes widen in awe - his calm confidence is visionary. You didn’t remotely feel comfortable around your mother and Oikawa is smooth and endearing. You're definitely always bringing him with you when you have to see your parents.

Your poorly hidden anxiety is noted on Oikawa’s behalf as he raises an eyebrow and flicks you on the forehead.

“Don’t stress!” Oikawa smiles.

Entering into the house, you two take off your shoes and make your way into the dining area where your mom awaits you. The rooms feel remarkably lifeless and empty.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, taking a seat at the dining table as Oikawa follows suit, sitting next to you.

“Oh working again, doesn’t know when to stop,” your mom sighs. Her eyes trail to Oikawa and her gaze feels so much softer compared to the daggers she throws at you. “Would you like some tea? Water?”

Her gaze lingers as she patiently waits for an answer.

“Thank you, but I’m alright,” he replies.

She turns to you and your heart leaps out of your chest, her stare feels like it could drag your soul out of your body.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, voice shaky as you swallow hard, forcing the next couple words out of your mouth. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the internship.”

Your mom’s intimidating demeanor drops immediately, her eyes twinkling with excitement while taking a seat across from you.

“Oh they’re so delighted to have you,” she croons. “They’ve even made you a care package in anticipation of your arrival!”

“See, the thing is…”

Your mom’s blissful face cuts.

“What’s wrong,” she says, making the question more of a blank statement.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just--”

“You think a mother wouldn’t know her own daughter.”

“It’s just--”

“Spit it out.”

You hold your breath, not sure how to present it. Looking at Oikawa, his eyes are full of affection and reassurance, you’ve come this far and you can’t back out of it now.

“Are you quitting?” she murmurs, gazing at you with a stern, cold look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to cushion the blow. But her eyes grow with more displeasure.

“Excuse me,” she hisses.

The air cuts thin. You’re quiet upon hearing the disappointment in her voice, and can understand why she’d be absolutely mortified.

“All that your father and I have done for you,” she barks. “This is how you repay us?”

I knew this was going to happen, you think to yourself as the worst case scenario seems to be on track with her reaction.

“I want to find somewhere else to intern,” you breathe, scared your words are just going to start a war. Her eyes have blaze in them won’t go out. There’s so much passion to make you like her, but even more successful, despite you going against her wishes. Something in her aura makes you want to run, but running is all you’ve ever done. It’s time to face your fears. “Please, let me explain.”

She doesn’t speak, her scowl says everything as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since I first went in for the interview,” you begin trembling. “Everyone was so welcoming and so excited to have me, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

“So you’re going to be selfish and only think about yourself?” she argues.

You recognize your anxiety from earlier stirring in your stomach. Your mom isn’t the easiest person to speak to, especially when her face radiates failure and suffering, this is quite possibly the most horrified you’ve seen her.

“It’s not what I want to do with my degree. I want to look somewhere else that will make me feel more fulfilled.”

“What you want is a mistake,” she thunders.

Her words are like knives digging into your heart. She just seems so distraught, and obviously cares about your future, but you can’t do this anymore.

You stand up from the table and bow deeply. “Will you please trust me? That’s all I ask.”

The room is silent as tension fills the air, you don’t really know what to expect as you shut your eyes tight waiting for a reaction. You’re expecting to be yelled at-- not to mention a shock wave of embarrassment protruding through you in front of Oikawa. The moment is painful and you don’t know what to do. You remain in the deep bow waiting.

“Alright. You don’t need to be so ridiculous, bowing...” she mumbles. You stand up and she has her hand clasp to her forehead. “You’re father’s going to kill me, but alright.”

Your heart rate increases, uncertain what she means by that, because you thought you’d misheard her.

“I guess it’s about time you’ve made your own decisions,” she says. “I was beginning to believe you’d continue to go along with it, but you’re your own person now.”

Shock and confusion washes over you, mixed with hope and excitement. You press your palm to your heart wondering if it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t come crying when nothing goes your way,” she adds.

Letting out a huge breath, your lips upturn to a smile.

“Thank you,” you say. And it’s genuine.

[britishboystm]

On the Quidditch Pitch | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries, nasty falls, swearing, physical fighting, bullying

WC: 1.6k

Chapter Summary: Y/N joins the Gryffindor quidditch team in her second year at Hogwarts. As a result, a series of unfortunate events unfold at her first official match.

Series Masterlist

***

September 6th 1990

Madam Hooch had seen a great deal of potential in Y/N the second she stepped onto the Quidditch pitch in her first year. In fear of other teams preying on the small girl, Madam Hooch felt it necessary to keep her after class to train.

By second year Y/N was ready to be the best Gryffindor chaser Hogwarts had seen in decades. The moment the other Gryffindor players saw her walk towards them in sporting robes one afternoon practice, they all laughed, including the twins. This sparked something within her and it became Y/N’s mission to prove them all wrong.

Once everyone had taken position in the air, Y/N had gotten into her game headspace. By the end of practice, she had gotten ten quaffles through the tall hoops.

“Did you know about this?” George asked in bewilderment as he flew up beside his twin. Fred couldn’t keep his eyes off of the tiny chaser passing the keeper again and again. He was gobsmacked.

“No idea.” He responded in astonishment.

It was a week later that Y/N found herself standing alongside the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team at her very first official match. The small open space between the closed canvas curtains gave a tinge of brightness as the team waited in anticipation. Muffled screams and shouts of the hundreds of students in the crowd echoed throughout the pitch.

“You ready L/N?” Asked keeper and captain to be Oliver Wood.

The young girl looked up at the older brunette and smiled widely.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The drapes opened, allowing the sunlight from the outside world to fill the inclosed space. Y/N jerked back a bit and winced, attempting to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

She had almost missed the moment in which the rest of the team mounted their brooms, zipping on to the pitch.

She quickly caught up and followed as the team did a lap around the pitch. Nothing but grass, sky and the blurred collection of the Hogwarts student body were in sight.

Y/N let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding in and all of a sudden she felt as though she were on top of the world.

It was almost immediately that the Slytherin team brought into play their game plan; pick on Y/N. Being the newest, youngest and physically the smallest member of the Gryffindor team, she instantly became the easiest target. It was what Madam Hooch feared when she began training the young girl, but Y/N knew she couldn’t let a few green hooded bullies get to her.

She pushed and pushed and scored and scored. The cheers and chants of her names coming from the stands every time she advanced Gryffindor to victory was her fuel. Much to the Slytherin team’s chagrin.

“Get the little twerp!” Marcus Flint yelled. The three chasers of Slytherin all collectively nodded to the commands given and nosedived to where Y/N was. She didn’t initially notice them until one of them pulled up beside her and aggressively body checked her with his shoulder. She looked at the older boy in disgust, trying to lose him amongst the other players.

But she was too late.

A second chaser came up on her other side and did the exact same thing as the first. Y/N soon realized that she was being ambushed as she looked over her shoulder to see the third chaser right on her tail.

The three Slytherin’s forced Y/N down towards the grass below. She tried to shimmy her way out of the pack of bodies, but when she finally looked down to where she was going, a flash of white hit her, her stomach lurching forward in the process.

The tip of her broomstick had caught onto one of the sand patches, sending her flying forward off of her broom and skidding face first into the rough grains of sand.

The impact was enough to knock her out cold.

A collective gasp filled the pitch and the game stopped completely. Everything went silent.

Fred couldn’t help but worry as he witnessed his friend take the nasty tumble. When the cloud of dust around her finally settled and he saw her not moving, his worry grew exponentially. That was when Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey and a student assistant rushed onto the scene.

“Out of my way!” Madam Pomfrey yelled as she ran past the now grounded players towards Y/N’s motionless body.

Everyone watched as the three person medical team examined her injuries. A group of Gryffindor professors came trickling in with Madam Hooch, hoping for a positive report. Sure it was slightly biased since she was one of their own, but who could blame them?

From closer inspection it became evident that her face had been badly bruised and scratched, especially around the cheek area. Her left wrist laid awkwardly beneath her, clearly broken. And from a couple quick tests, it seemed that she also suffered a bad concussion.

“She needs to be taken to the hospital wing.” Madam Pomfrey said with concern.

Hagrid nodded and along with the student medical assistant, rushed away into the shadows of the pitch to then re-emerge with a cloth stretcher.

They gently placed her on it and with very little struggle brought it off the ground, walking off the pitch towards the hospital wing.

Fred didn’t really think before he dropped his broom and ran after the group of adults, slowing down when he finally found himself beside the moving stretcher.

“Y/N.” Was all he said before taking her small hand in his. She looked so peaceful for someone who had just gotten the life knocked out of them.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked with concerned eyes as he looked to Madam Pomfrey.

“Yes but what she needs is rest.”

“I’m going with her.” He stated confidently.

“Sorry sunny, she won’t be allowed visitors for another few hours. Only after I’ve fully mended her wounds.” And with that they quickened their pace, leaving Fred behind.

“Sad to see your little girlfriend go Weasley?” Called out Pucey in a nasty joking tone.

Fred’s fists and jaw clenched and his temperature rose exponentially. The Slytherin’s had clearly planned this. To injure his friend who was just playing a good and fair game of Quidditch.

He finally turned around at the sound of the opposing team laughing.

“You greasy little git!” He yelled as he stormed towards Pucey, shoving him in the chest once he got close enough.

“Ooohh.” The team mocked, not really taking Fred Weasley seriously.

“So she is your little girlfriend. Maybe next time you see her you can tell her to leave the game to the big boys. Pipsqueak didn’t stand a cha-“

Fred punched him square in the jaw causing the Slytherin to fall to the ground in pain. The crowd erupted in cheers and hollers when Fred dove forward and pinned Pucey down, tackling him.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Filled the arena.

“Get him off!” Pucey yelped as Fred laid hit after hit. No one talked about Y/N that way, never. He didn’t understand why he had gotten so heated over the situation, but at that point he was in way too deep to even care.

Finally, George came in and pried his older twin off of the bloodied up Slytherin who was whimpering in agony. He had to before the collection of angered professors approaching them did.

“Fred stop!” George yelled as Fred thrashed, trying to push his brother away from going back in for another round.

“Stupid wanker! I’ll show him!” George finally moved in front of him.

“Fred, relax. Y/N wouldn’t want to see you like this. Pull yourself together mate.” Fred was still seeing red. George attempted to make eye contact but it was no use. Fred was too busy sending death glares to Pucey, his chest rising and falling rapidly and nostrils flared.

“Mr Weasley!” Professor McGonagall screeched. She ran up to him with Snape and Flitwick close behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Professor he-“

“Apologies for interrupting you Mr Weasley but I believe I asked your brother the question.” George slinked back away from Fred, no longer able to protect him from the wrath of McGonagall.

“I hope you understand the severity of the situation. You will attend detention every day for an hour until Winter Break, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes professor.” He couldn’t make eye contact with her.

She looked at him with disappointed eyes.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.” She said with a sigh before walking away.

“All students back to the castle!” She called out, causing everyone to disperse from the stands in disappointment.

Later that evening, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stood in the doorway of the now darkened hospital wing. Hours had passed since the incident.

“He’s been here for hours Albus. Should I send him back to his dorm?” She whispered.

Dumbledore smiled lightly, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Fred Weasley, still in his dirty quidditch robes, sat in a chair beside the hospital bed Y/N was sleeping in. He hadn’t gone back to his dorm to change or had eaten dinner in the great hall. He instead, paced in front of the hospital wing entrance until Madam Pomfrey finally let him in to see Y/N.

Fred was now hunched over and drifting in and out of sleep. His hand held Y/N’s, his thumb caressing the soft skin on top of them.

The two adults listened intently as Fred sleepily recounted his fight with Pucey to Y/N. He didn’t care if it fell on deaf ears. At least she was there.

“No Minerva. Leave him be.”

[dreamsafterhours]

⚠️ tw: weapon use, mentions of blood

1:07pm: “well, you’re not cod.”

it was not the silky smooth skin (scales?), nor the somewhat fascinating slits for gills flaring in the creature’s shock that first caught your attention. not even the wriggling tail, shimmering golds and greens and blues even in minimal sunlight with every movement.

it was the eyes. the wild young eyes that defied the status of prey and established itself as a living being, not just a body of meat and bones. there was a soul there, so hungry and alive, barely containing the storm behind them.

it was startling how such fire could come from a child of the sea.

thetis had blessed you today with your first close-up look at a real merman, suspended above you in a fishing net. still hissing and thrashing, it bared its teeth at you and the crew, fighting for freedom, but only managing to tangle itself further in the process.

"lucky catch?" first mate!johnny mused, shrugging his shoulder.

"didn't think we'd see merpeople in these waters," quartermaster!jaehyun muttered.

cook!chenle was shaking his head. "we can't eat that," he said, arms crossed over his chest.

"no shit," pirate!haechan replied, "we've all heard the stories — men's blood freezing up in their veins." he shuddered. "don't know about y'all, but i'm not about to have my blood turned into slush."

your crewmates' words hung about you like the low-hanging clouds on a still day, and yet you couldn't take your eyes off the creature, so very clearly out of its element.

to see such a beautiful, fatal beast struggling in such a way under your hand, exposed and vulnerable — so wonderfully voyeuristic and intimate, you couldn't help but become intrigued by it. him.

his eyes had turned from furious to panicked as the net was lowered down onto the deck, grabbing at the ropes and swiping desperately as if his claws could cut through in such a time.

you still had yet to say a word, still stunned with awe as he spilled out onto the wooden deck along with the rest of the catch — but found yourself lunging forward as you saw your crew stepping forward to handle him however they planned.

hand at your sheathed cutlass, you stepped in front of the merman, turning to face your crew with a daring glare.

"you won't touch him," you warned, raising your chin to challenge anyone to question your authority.

jaehyun let out a sigh and motioned for the others to step back. they begrudgingly obeyed, just as the captain's quarters opened and captain!taeyong, your brother, stepped out on deck.

"what's going on there?"

"merman, sir," cabin boy!jisung piped up, "pulled up the fishing net and there he was, sir."

"merman, you say?" taeyong repeated, taking his time down the stairs. "you mean that boy?"

looking back at him, your jaw dropped as the boy's tail seemed to melt away, fins into flesh and bending into knees — real knees, ankles and feet and all — right before your very eyes.

the boy's face was twisted with nausea and pain, and you realised he must have been enduring the sensations of new limbs being created in real time, bones fusing and scales sinking into skin, then splitting into two separate legs. you winced as he visibly fought back a strained groan of agony.

you took a second to process the transformation before you as the crowd parted for your captain like the splitting sea as he approached. you clenched your jaw when he signalled you to step aside, but you did so cautiously nevertheless.

crouching in front of the naked half-boy, taeyong ignored his (weaker) warning hiss and held a short blade under his chin, tilting it upwards so as to get a better look at his gills as they vanished, fusing back into the skin of his neck. he took a long gasp of air, strained with the position he was held in.

"now, what's a pretty thing like you doing in our fishing net?"

instead of replying, he snapped at his hand, jaws opening to reveal a normal, human set of teeth. instead of flinching, however, like most of the crew, your brother gave him a warning of his own, stabbing downwards at the half-boy's no-longer-webbed hands. the blade caught the gap between his thumb and finger, which would have pinned him to the deck had he still been in his merman form.

your grip tightened on your cutlass' handle as the creature yelped in shock. "taeyong, enough!" nudging him hard out of your way, you reach down and pull the knife out, throwing it aside. you turn on your brother, recovering from his fall. "get away from him," you snapped, only to be met with laughter.

"what's it to you, whether it dies or not?"

"you'll leave him alone, and that's that." you tried to put as much finality as you could into your voice, half-worried it wouldn't be enough — but to your surprise, taeyong snorted and gave you a nod.

"suit yourself," he placed his hands on his hips, "what would you have us do with it, then? leave it in the sun to dry?"

the merman let out a low growl at that suggestion, but you ignored it.

"we let him go."

pirate!jaemin threw off his shirt to drape over the shivering boy as he was hauled up onto shaky new feet, legs buckling and knees giving in with the first few steps he took.

as soon as he could take certain steps, taeyong ordered for the plank to be taken out, and they were quick to usher him onto it to drop back into the sea. he hadn’t helped at all, squirming profusely in protest all throughout.

the boy's previous feral ferocity had long since gone, and his eyes now screamed of a strange panic and fear. glancing from the horizon to his feet and the waters below and back, he seemed to be hesitating. wasn't the ocean his home?

you didn't dare move a muscle in anticipation until he looked desperately over his shoulder, staring straight at you — begging for mercy from the only person who had granted it to him.

pure instinct launched you forward, stepping onto the plank and tiptoeing over to him, ignoring your crew's exclamations behind you.

"it's okay," you called out, "you can come back."

the boy clutched at the shirt, wrapping it tighter around himself as he trembled in cold, beautiful face twisted in anguish.

"come back with me," you beckoned, reaching your open hand out. "i can protect you."

you realised you didn't even know for certain that he knew what you were saying, but your eyes seemed to say enough for him. he managed a shaky step towards you, then another, and another, until he was within reach for him to take your hand (albeit tentatively).

the plank was nowhere near wide enough for you to support him side by side, so you offered your arm and shoulder for him to grab onto and lean on as you led him back onto the ship. the crew allowed enough space for him to collapse to his knees almost as soon as he climbed back on deck, and you ordered for jisung to bring him a new outfit.

soon, the crowd dispersed, returning to their duties — you looked up from helping him put on a clean shirt to taeyong, grinning down at you.

"you'll be responsible for it from now on," he said.

"i know."

"good," he nodded slowly, seeming to be proud of himself.

you fastened the last button for him and examined his face as he stared down into his lap.

"do you have a name?"

the boy's pale lips twitched, like he was trying to form words as you had done.

you repeated your question, softer and slower.

you didn't know what voice you were expecting from him, but it was more melodic and fragile than you could have ever imagined.

"renjun," he murmured, "my name is renjun."

—

part two

[ac3id]

Redamancy. iii

Redamancy (n.) The act of loving in return.  

pairings: mirio togata x female reader

warnings: 18+, noncon, yandere themes, breeding kink n mirio is a scumbag. 

a/n: ahaha im reposting this cus  algorithm was effed the first time i posted. ehehehe or maybe im just unlucky-- n e way this will be the last of redamany!! 

word count: 1950 

navigation  ☼ 

←  part i, ii

Mirio's gaze turned to you, sky blue eyes stared at how you sipped on your drink. Your glossy, pink stained lips puckered around the straw. Was that a new shade? You had never put something like that on before. Probably tasted like strawberries or cherries, "Mirio!" your voice drove him out his thoughts. You stood in front of him, your hands at your hip, "What are you thinking about?" Mirio felt his cheeks heat up.

'I was thinking about you sucking my dick, do you mind?'

"Nothing, we should get going. Lunch's bout' to get over soon." He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the school building, you almost trip over your feet, "Hey! Slow down!" You bump into his chest which was hard as rock making your head sting a little, "You're a klutz," he laughs. "It's your fault!" you retort, he pats your head and continues laughing. He takes a good look at you, drinking your uniform clad body. The short skirt displaying your plush thighs. His mind melts away in sinful thoughts, thinking about all what he can do to you. He once again realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. His entire hand can literally cover your face, he can easily pick you and throw you over his shoulder.

What is stopping him? Seriously?

His smile drops when he catches you staring at him. The guy he beat up months ago and threatened to stay out of your life. You were staring at him chatting away, giggling with some nameless girl. He studied your sully expression, your eyes looked sad, and lip turned into a sad pout; he could tell you were upset and that pissed him off. Why did you still think about him? Why did you still care about that jerk? Didn't you move on yet?

Mirio felt himself get riled up from the same rage he had felt the first time he had seen you with this man. The frustration, anger, and jealousy all came surging back to him as he realized that you obviously did not feel the same way about him as he did about you. Maybe he'll have to do more than just be nice to get you to understand he's the one for you, the one and only.

He would show you who you belong to. You will get what is coming.

"Hey, what's wrong? You coming?" His hand rested on your shoulder, he gripped on it a little tighter.

Mirio walked into an empty classroom which echoed soft sobs and sniffles. You sat on your seat, your head resting on the desk as you cried. Mirio's face paled and he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you pulling your upper half to his chest he rubbed your head. "It's okay now, I am here," he whispered into your ear, shushing you. "What happened?" he asked after you had calmed down.

"Why are you still here?"

"I came to get you, now, what happened?" you gulped before answering, feeling the lump in your throat rise as your voice cracked. "Why?"

Mirio was confused, what were you on about? "Am I not good enough? Why did he leave me?" tears roll down your cheeks, lip trembling your breathing turns uneven. Mirio frowns, his hands clenching into an fist he pulls away from the hug.

You were thinking about him, obviously. He moves in front of you grabbing your jaw, his big fingers squish your tiny cheeks. Your eyes widened in horror as he pulls your face closer to him, his elbows resting on the desk separating the two. He looks down at you, his eyes bored into yours with malice, "Mirio you're-" "Shut the fuck up." he snapped.

"You want to know why he left you? Why did your precious little pretty boy leave you?" you were too scared to answer, you didn't get to anyways since he blurted the out the answer in burning rage "Because. I fucking told him to stay away from you. Got it?" Your eyebrows knit together and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, in a blink on eye he had become so different. He had snapped, you felt betrayed. The Mirio you knew would never be this rough with you, but maybe you were to blame. Deep down you knew. You were very much aware. Mirio liked you even after your breakup but you never asked, thinking it was better that way but not in a million years did you ever think that Mirio would snap and come for your soul.

"I fucking beat him up. You know why I did that?" he asked again. His voice was menacing, he was shouting at you and you were scared. "Answer me! You fucking ungrateful bitch!" You  flinched and started whimpering, a weak no left your trembling lips, "It's because you're mine." he spat, he waited for you to say something but you were still trying to process his words. It was a lot to take in, you couldn't believe that Mirio would ever do something like that. You wanted to think this was a joke but no, he was dead serious.

The ray of sunshine, the great hero to be, Mirio Togata was a scumbag, no. He was worse.

You started releasing the situation you were in, there was no doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you too. The flight or fight instinct kicked in and you tried to free your face from his grasp. After successfully freeing yourself from his chains you got up from the desk and made a run for the door. Mirio stared at you in disbelief, his eyes wide and lips curled upwards he internally laughed at your foolishness. Wasting no time, he quickly got behind you capturing your wrist and pulling you back to his chest. A large hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you securely pinned to his torso.

You were so stupid. Did you seriously think you could get away from him? He is twice your size.

"Where are you going?" he pulled both your hands behind your back and held them there with one hand, the other snaked down under your skirt, "Mirio don't do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go." you begged your voice shaky as big, fat teardrops rolled down your cheek. "What will you tell them? They won't believe you and besides," his fingers inched towards your core, you squirmed and wailed. His fingers rubbed against your clothed slit, pressing against your clit sending shameful jolts of pleasure throughout your body. "I will scream," you whispered before breaking into soft sobs. He was going to rape you in your own classroom and there was nothing you could do against it. With no quirk to protect yourself, you knew physically overpowering him was a dream. You just prayed that he would leave you.

"You're gonna' scream?" he scoffed, his tone was cocky- ridiculing you. "Go ahead, scream," his fingers rubbed harder against your clothed cunt as he waited for you to scream. The scream never came and Mirio started, "You're getting wet down here, you know. You like this?" pushing away your panties to the side, he let his finger graze over your sensitive folds a content sigh following right after. "You're really wet. I think I can just slide it in."

He dipped two of his fingers into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "What do you want?" you cried as his huge fingers drilled into your small, tight pussy. "What do I want? I want you to know you're mine. Only mine." he growled in your ear. "But I guess you don't realize that. Do you? Don't worry after I knock you up you won't be able to leave me, maybe then you'll understand." your lips fell agape, and eyes widened threatening to pop right out of your sockets, "N-no pleasee don't do that. P-please-" Mirio pushed you towards the teacher's desk, bending you over it. Your face pressed against the cold wood yet you keep whimpering, begging him to let you free but he doesn't care. He's not listening.

He flips your skirt over leaving your ass a sight to his wretched eyes. He brings his hand down spanking it then pulling away to watch how your plump flesh jiggles, he chuckles. "I should beat this pretty little ass purple and blue," he talks to himself, completely disheartening your cries for help. He smacks your ass until he's satisfied- until your bottom blooms red and his palm stings. Mirio wastes no time in getting behind you, his hand still pinned both of yours behind your back. He slowly releases them, "Now. No funny business," he warns. He knows you wouldn't try anything, you couldn't; not in this state.

One of his hands grips your waist tightly while the other kneads your ass, "Ah shit, look at that." he whispers. "It's beautiful but it's not enough." He is quick to pull your panties down to your thighs and spread your legs open. You hold on to the edges of the desk as you feel his fingers run up your slit and dip into your hole.

"Cute, little cunt. All mine."

His length comes free from its confines and hits his stomach. It's long, hard, and big- so big. You had it impale you before multiple times but it had always been a stretch. His cock was just too big for your tiny pussy! His tip teased your entrance. Your hole drooling over it, he hissed. "I am going to knock you up. You won't be leaving me after that." He pushed inside slowly marveling at how your cunt sucked him up so eagerly, your mouth opened into a silent scream as he bottomed out. He didn't give you time to adjust to his size, he kept rutting his hips. He thrust his cock deep inside you hard and fast, swollen balls slapping against your clit making you moan. The sinful sound of sex: his hips hitting your rear, grunts and moans resonate through the room while you stayed there, under him feeling embarrassed, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet you could not ignore the pleasure he was giving you. His cock hit deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix trying its best to sink past the rim, your cries of agony soon turned into frenzied moans.

You were close to cumming, he could tell by how tightly your precious cunt clenched around his hard length pulling him even deeper, squeezing him trying to milk him for all he's worth. "I feel that..gonna' fill you up," he says in between his grunts. Mirio tightened his grip on your hips as you started squirming beneath him, the coil in your stomach ready to burst and moment. "You're close, baby?" You whined refusing to give in, "Aww, it's fine. Just admit it: you're mine and I'll let you cum." His thrusts slowed down denying to give you satisfaction, you wailed at the loss yet you didn't agree with him. You were to give in, you told yourself but your body didn't agree. It needed Mirio and just like that it had taken over your mind, clouded your mind with nothing but lust and him. As the need for release increased, you screamed. "Ah- fuck. Yes! I am all yours- ah!" he steadied his rhythm and you exploded all over his cock. Creaming around him, your juices flowed down to your legs. Mirio length twitched inside of you, his thrusts became sloppy- he was close.

"Yeah damn fucking right. Good girl." he praised before spilling his seed inside your womb, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out and watched how his cum dripped from your abused pussy only to push it back inside with his finger. "You actually did it..." your voice was meek, head still down and body still bent over the desk. Too weak to get up, you started at the floor beneath you with glassy eyes. Mirio pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you tightly, making sure you don't run away. The hug was warm, in any other case it would have been warm and comforting but not anymore.

"This would not have happened, Y'know. It's your fault for being such a bitch."

Right, of course, you should have been smarter. You should have loved him back when you could have.

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[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 53

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The ritual begins.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Blood, whump

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Walking into the ritual room, as you now called it, felt more like you were walking to the executioner’s block rather than to perform some magic. Maybe they would end up being one and the same.

Thankfully, there were only three other people in the room besides you. Bucky had balked at being informed there would be several other sorcerers in attendance, and after observing his memories, both in person and through old, grainy film, you could understand why a room full of people during a ritual would be terrifying.

So now there was only you, Strange, Wong, and Bucky. The latter held your attention as soon as you stepped in the room. He appeared calm on the outside, despite the fact he was strapped down with a stone table, but you would recognize the glassy fear in his eyes as intimately as if you’d looked in the mirror.

Bucky wasn’t scared of you, you knew that, but unease gripped your throat still as you approached the table. He was restrained, for his safety and for yours. The thin, silver manacles around his wrists and ankles glimmered in the light cast by the lamps around the room. A room where you’d witnessed a demon exorcism, watched Bucky frozen, and now you would be performing a spell no one had ever done before.

Generally speaking, this wasn’t a room where nice things happened. You could only hope to break that pattern.

“Are you ready?” you asked him, reaching out and taking his hand. He wrapped his fingers around yours without hesitation. Despite the chill in the room, there was sweat beading on his bare chest. All he wore were a pair of dark pants, his wings folded up behind his back, and his searching tail grasped yours as quickly as his hand had done.

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed down the gravel in his voice. “Ready.”

You reluctantly let go with one last squeeze of your fingers. Bucky’s tail uncoiled from yours, and you missed the contact as soon as it was gone.

Oh-fucking-kay, you thought, taking a deep breath as you positioned yourself at the side of the stone table. Remember to speak clearly, and keep your thoughts clearer. Intention is more important than the words themselves.

Bucky stared up at you, but only for a moment, his jaw working as he braced himself. And then he turned his eyes up to the ceiling, staring blankly, bracing himself for what came next.

It reminded you less of someone visiting the dentist’s office, and more of someone expecting to be brutally tortured for hours. God, you hoped that wasn’t going to be the case, because you weren’t sure if you could stop the spell safely in the middle.

You stared off slow, meticulous, drawing glowing circles and patterns into the air above Bucky’s prone form. Above his chest, his head, various points of “power” all along his body, focusing most of it above the sigil on his left shoulder. That would be the gateway, the focal point of the demonic energy that was bonded to him.

That sigil had been the main focus on your studies, and you’d even taken some time to see if, by some small miracle, the effects could be reversed—that you could cast the demon energy out of Bucky permanently. You found it was impossible, not without killing Bucky in the process, so that idea was firmly thrown out the window. Finding a way to make sure no one could enslave him again was the least you could do, but if it worked, it would hopefully make the demon side more bearable for him to live with.

You chanted the words in Latin, ones that would open Bucky to be bonded to another, but hopefully not in the role of a slave. He gritted his teeth but didn’t make a sound, sweat glistening on his forehead as his breathing quickened. You were tempted to rush it, to ease his discomfort quicker, but you didn’t dare. You would go slow and make sure it was perfect.

After that, you said words that weren’t written in any book. They would signify your willingness to join Bucky in a pact, a consensual one where you were both equals. It wasn’t all that different than making a human pact, except you were saying the intention part out loud, in the language of demon magic, and hoping it was enough.

It should have been. And yet, when you were done speaking them. Nothing happened.

You met Bucky’s eye, the reluctance in them palpable. You both knew gaining direct access to Bucky’s demon side might take more than a few words.

With an apologetic wince, you turned toward the stone podium nearby. On its surface was a red velvet cloth, and on top of that, a glittering onyx blade. Curling your fingers around the athame, the very tool that had done this to Bucky, felt wrong. Profane. You’d never wanted to see it again, especially after witnessing Zemo use it on him, but there was no other option if you wanted to harness the energy within the sigil.

“Are you sure you’re still okay with this?” you asked, voice lowered so it reached no further than Bucky. “We can back out now. It’s not too late.”

“I’m fine.”

He looked anything but fine. As soon as you’d touched the knife, his brows had tensed and his breathing quickened, his tail tightly wrapped around his leg.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and poised the blade above his shoulder, stomach queasy as you fought not to tremble. This was not the time to have shaky hands. “Tell me if you need to stop.”

Bucky nodded but said nothing. There was nothing more to say. You both knew at a certain point, you would either have to complete the ritual as intended… or seal Bucky to you, becoming his master. Once the pentagram was cut open by the athame, there was no going back.

Teeth clenched together, your heart in your throat, you aimed the edge of the blade… and sliced downwards.

Nothing could have prepared you for Bucky’s reaction to the knife. It was a blessing you were no longer connected, because you would have been too overwhelmed in agony, frozen while Bucky screamed and writhed against the restraints.

The violent reaction, you were prepared for. What you weren’t prepared for was the stones trembling at your feet and the rumble of the walls shaking, causing the lamps to flicker and dust to sprinkle from cracks in the ceiling.

The energy pouring out of Bucky’s wound was searing and nearly blinding. You’d never been aware of it before, but now it was nearly overwhelming, your senses interpreting it as a blaring red light that felt exactly like the demon realm.

And if you didn’t do something, it would continue to pour out of Bucky, until it either killed him or it brought down the entire Sanctum.

The knife dropped from your fingers and you cast out a rapid spell. Fractals split in the air, surrounding you both a good distance on either side, trapping you in a glittering dome.

Strange and Wong were blocked just outside of the Mirror Dimension pocket you’d open. Wong’s stern face was fraught with worry, and even Strange seemed fearful as he banged his fists on the barrier. Orange glyphs glowed around his fists, but it would take time for them to break through.

You ignored them. Whatever happened inside the pocket wouldn’t damage the world outside, and either way, Bucky was still screaming through his teeth. He needed you more than they did.

Sweating, you picked up the athame and stared at the demonic energy coming from his shoulder, studying it, trying to understand how to harness it, even as the floor continued to rumble.

There had to be another way—

Bucky screamed again, and your composure wavered.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t take away his choice, his ability to make choices. Even if you never gave him a command on purpose, it could always happen on accident.

And what then? How was Bucky being your slave any better than you being his food source?

But what else could you do? What other choice did you have than to finish the one ritual you knew would work for certain? There was nothing you could do, nothing else that would—

When the moment comes and the obvious choice feels wrong… trust yourself to find a different answer.

The world seemed to quiet around you, replaced by the Ancient One’s words, so clear as if she’d just spoken in your ear.

The air rushed out of your lungs. Ignoring the world shaking around you, you raised the black knife to your right shoulder, and cut.

The blade sliced through your flesh as easily as it had through Bucky’s demonic skin, and you nearly dropped the knife as fire coursed through your body. Your sigil burned worse than it had ever done before, and tears sprang through your eyes as you stumbled to the stone slab.

Bucky continued to writhe, in so much agony he was completely unaware of his surroundings. You couldn’t tell him what you were doing, he was in no mind to hear it, let alone understand it. So you braced yourself when you took the knife and sliced through the manacle holding his left wrist.

Bucky’s claws would have torn a chunk out of you, but you grabbed his arm and held it against your side. With magic augmenting your own strength, you were able to keep him in place, even as the armored plates shifted and rose as he tried to pull free.

Warmth dripped from your shoulder, but you ignored it. There was a distant banging on the barrier of your pocket dimension, and you ignored that, too.

You focused on nothing else except Bucky’s arm, wedged between your elbow and your side.

“I’m sorry.”

You cut the palm of his demonic hand with the blade.

Bucky arched against the slab, his screams just as intense as anything HYDRA had done to him.

Tears leaked down your face as you thought I’m sorry, I’m sorry, over and over again.

Keeping his arm in place, you transferred the blade to your other hand and cut through your right palm with one swift movement. You were growing woozy and had to hurry.

Dropping the knife, you grabbed Bucky’s wrist and pulled his arm straight, hovering his bleeding left palm over your sigil, just as you positioned your own hand over his glowing shoulder.

Bucky fought against you the whole time, unaware of anything but the pain as he tried to draw his arm against his chest, but you held it firm.

At the same exact moment, you slammed his hand down onto your bleeding shoulder, just as your wounded palm pressed against his fiery pentagram.

Like a closed circuit, heat and electricity surged through your bodies in a loop. Light and heat exploded in your vision, demonic energy filling you past the point of control, and you were sure you were going to erupt in flames—

And then it stopped. The world went quiet, and dark, and then you heard…

Birds.

You opened your eyes. You weren’t in the room, or in the Sanctum at all. You were outdoors, in a yard, surrounded by trees whose leaves were bright green in preparation for the summer.

Both of your hands were curled around something metal, and you looked up to see your fingers wrapped around the chains of a very familiar swing set. Even more confusing, your legs weren’t dragging against the ground, but flat against it.

You leapt to your feet, stumbling because your legs were a lot shorter than you remembered.

“Bucky? Bucky!”

You clapped your hands over your mouth, startled by a high-pitched voice that had come from it.

You were a child again. And the backyard was none other than the one that belonged to your family home in Boston.

How did you get here? Where was Bucky? What the hell had happened?

“Ah, there you are.”

Your breath caught in your throat. No, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

And yet, when you slowly turned around, there she was, standing there. Alive and real and very much able to see you without question this time.

The Ancient One.

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