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yandere-sins · 2 days

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Lingyang or Jiyan accidently releasing a more animalistic side when yn is threatened and needing help to calm down

I wanted to do something for both of them but this idea just shot in my mind and I couldn't get rid of it, so just Jiyan and I accidentally jumped over the comfort part (feel free to re-request if you want to see that kind of scenario, I do have an idea for it, but I was hit hard with a lot of inspiration for this kind of story, sorry!), but I totally agree with your thought here!

[Warning: Yandere, Kidnapping, Attempted non-con by intruders, Violence (Murder, Mention of blood and separated body parts, Description of monster traits, Stabbing someone), Depiction of shock and paranoia]

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

In all the time you were stuck with your captor, you never noticed just how beastial he truly was.

Jiyan was a lot of things. He was kind, friendly, and reliable. People flocked to him to admire the general, wanting to stand next to him for just a moment to bask in the glory he radiated. When he stood there, relaxed and with a faint smile, everyone felt safe, their worries simply washing away. You, too, had been blinded by the false sense of relief his presence promised, approaching him without a second of hesitation and without a spark of fear even when his eyes snapped to you, widening in inexplicable yearning. You let yourself be charmed by him, whisked away with the promise of togetherness, a once off chance to be with him. And you'd come to regret your decision to take his hand, to allow him to lure you into his 'monster den' even though you should have seen the danger signs.

Love at first sight, he called it as he pinned you to his couch. You didn't fight him—couldn't fight him. The pain of his fingers digging into your skin was enough to make you go rigid; how could you have fought someone as strong as him? He spoke of devotion and adoration even when he kissed you against your will. When he pulled you with him towards a secret elevator, he still assured you that this was for your best.

And even when he forced the bitter-tasting potion down your throat that made you drowsy and defenseless, he swore nothing would ever happen to you. Jiyan promised you'd be safe and protected as he caught you in his eyes while you lost your conscience. But that was a lie—everything was.

Jiyan was a lot of things, but he wasn't kind. A kind person wouldn't kidnap someone and force them to live isolated from the rest of society, no matter how much you pleaded and begged. He wasn't friendly either because when you fought him, he fought back. So many days were wasted in fear, screaming matches and hiding from him. So many times he'd force you to be with him, be held by him, let him love you. A nice person wouldn't do that. A friendly person wouldn't have hurt you this way.

But most of all, he wasn't reliable.

Because even when he swore up and down that you'd be safe in this underground prison, that he'd protect you from all that his twisted mind imagined would harm you outside this cage he had decorated for you, chained you up in, and confined you to a lifetime in solitude, even then some burglars managed to find you.

Jiyan's changes in his heart were terrifying.

But to be at some random strangers' mercy was even worse.

You thought they might help. That you could finally be freed. But when the intruders started to smile and leer at you, who was vulnerable and unable to run from them, all hope vanished. You screamed and cried, knowing there was no one who could hear you. Like so many times before with Jiyan, no one knew your whereabouts and this prison was supposed to be safe from outside and inside threats. You tried to fight them, begging them to stop like so many times before with Jiyan, but they wouldn't. In your fear and panic, you wished for the general to save you, even though you knew he wouldn't make it in time.

So, although unwelcome, the surprise was huge when, instead of having the hands of two unknown strangers rake all over your body, you felt their disgustingly warm blood soak into your ripped clothes. You couldn't look away from the slitted, brilliant eyes of Jiyan that seemed to burn with the fire of a dragon, furious and raging. And when you did snap out of it, you closed your eyes quickly to avoid looking at the severed heads and gruesome looks of death on the intruders' faces.

You didn't look up when you heard their body parts fall to the ground with squelching sounds, the warm blood soaking everything. You didn't even open your eyes when you felt Jiyan's uncomfortably familiar arms wrap around you. You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he lifted you up, reeking of blood and death, because you were too afraid to make a sound.

Because what stood before you, cradling you against his chest and holding you as you cried was no man—but a monster. A beast much like the Tacet Discords that haunted the lives of all citizens of Jinzhou. His hold might have been meant to be a comfort, but his arms were rigid with terror, and he held his breath ever so often as he kept hyperventilating in anger. But holding you, even he seemed to calm down, his face rubbing against your head and his chest rumbling with a purr. If not for your presence, you were sure he'd have turned into a terrifying beast, mauling these intruders for whom you held no sympathy. Gnawed at their bones, destroyed every last inch of their bodies, and swallowed them whole.

Just like he wanted to do with you.

You remained still even if you wanted to fight for your life at that moment. You waited for Jiyan to put you down, wipe the sweat-soaked hair out of your face, and place an apologetic, desperate kiss on your forehead before he turned away, muttering, "I'm sorry."

"I should have never left you. I'm sorry you had to go through that; please forgive me."

He was sorry for what happened, maybe even for scaring you with the reveal of his true self.

But that monster wasn't sorry for keeping you locked here, especially now with the death of two people hanging over your head like a sword ready to strike. Cursing this place for all eternity, and haunting the nightmares you'd undoubtedly experience from now on.

You knew you had to be first.

If you didn't, that monster would kill you too, ruthlessly and cold. Brutal and heartless.

Jiyan had already proven that he couldn't be trusted. That he wasn't kind, wasn't friendly, and wasn't reliable in any way. And now that he had to lick off the blood from his deformed hands, who was going to say you wouldn't be the next victim that this beast could devour?

There was something almost therapeutic about pulling the long, elegant hairpin from where he put it that morning and lunging forward to stab it between his ribs. You could feel his heart beat against the metal as the beast cried out in pain. Perhaps betrayal, too.

This time, you looked at him as he gave you the treacherous eyes of a puppy. When he grabbed the pin, holding it in place, you watched as blood dripped from the wound, mixing with the red puddles on the ground. His words were stricken with grief over your betrayal when he asked you, "Why?" and when you looked into his eyes, he suddenly didn't appear so monstrous anymore. He looked like a wounded man. One you came to know quite well, albeit unwillingly.

But you.

The way you stared at him unblinking, your reflection so clear and miserable in his eyes... your skin had paled from the horrors you experienced, the wrinkles deeply etched into your face like that of a haggard witch. You lost weight from refusing to eat and were clothed in garments you could have never afforded by yourself. You stabbed him without thinking twice. You didn't seem like yourself anymore. You didn't even feel human.

Perhaps Jiyan wasn't the man anyone thought him to be, but even so, even a beast like him could still love you at your lowest. Still care for and save you when it seemed impossible. Still apologize for his mistakes, exactly like a human would.

And you thought to yourself that maybe, watching as he went to patch himself up, preparing to forgive you once again for acting out as he had to pull the hairpin he gifted you out of his ribs,

maybe you had become the monster instead.

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 days

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Only we know 💭💥🕷️

Miguel O'Hara x gn! Spider Reader

Synopsis: a request for my lovely @swiftyangx12 🖤🖤🖤 TY FOR REQUESTING and your patience 😩😩" How about Miguel and Spider![Reader] attend at a Comic Con back in [Reader]’s world?

The plot for this one is [Reader] signed up to participate in a cosplay competition and they invited Miguel as their moral support (and he took that opportunity since he has a huge crush on them and they also like him back so they can show off their work). I’m thinking of them dressed up as Jinx from LOL Arcane series."

Word count: 2.6k whoops

CW: SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI, FLUFFY FRIENDS TO LOVERS

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

-----

You documented your location, voice recording your mission notes as you drew up an orange portal back to Earth 928, tossing the bound anomaly through it like a sack of potatoes before you followed shortly afterwards, leaving the senior citizens at the retirement home with higher blood pressure and jaws on the floor.

Another day on the job complete.

Few things kept you motivated like having a big event marked on your calendar. This summer's item was going to be Comic Con, held in your dimension Earth 108-13. You were particularly looking forward to this one since you took a leap of faith and signed up for a cosplay competition. Also, you and your friends splurged a little bit and got tickets to the one in Las Vegas, meaning there would be a whole weekend of partying and things to do besides just the Con.

As a gamer, one of your favorite series recently came out, Arcane, which was based on a game called League of Legends you had been a long time player of, and the fandom at this time was buzzing. You had planned out your costume to coincide with the trending media and cosplay as Jinx, one of the main characters of Arcane and a playable champion in the game.

No offense to your two friends you were going with, but they had recently crossed over into dating territory, and you weren't exactly all over the idea of third wheeling for an entire weekend, especially in a place as fun as Vegas.

You had someone in mind you were going to invite. And if you weren't misreading the banter and subtle signs you were holding onto like an oath for several months, then you were quite certain he was going to say yes.

---

Spider Society HQ, Earth-928

Miguel doesn't turn much from his monitors that he's locked onto in a dead pan stare, watching the same Vulture sniffing candles at a TJ Maxx for the millionth time in a row. But his neck nearly breaks when he hears the familiar and most welcome sound of your voice.

"Hey, Migs."

"H-Hey! *Cough* I mean....hi."

His face morphs back into all business, but with just a hint of pleasantness that he only seemed to allow to bubble underneath the surface with just you. And it made your heart stop every time.

You smile at him, removing your mask, your face glistening with the sweat of a successful mission. Miguel feels his heart leap in his chest.

The afterglow sure suited you and he felt it a little bit more difficult than usual to be in your presence. Nevertheless, he didn't crack.

"Mysterio has been stowed successfully in sector 4." You say proudly, lightly panting as your breath caught up to you.

"Good, good." Miguel's lips pulled into a smile of admiration and gratitude. "I appreciate you doing that despite it being such a moment's notice."

"Ah, well it was a Moose-sterio, actually. So he went down easier than a normal Mysterio." You chuckle, casually perching yourself on Miguel's desk.

Miguel can't help but crack a smile at that. "How did he find himself at the retirement home anyway?"

"Beats me." You hum. "Maybe one of the residents hunted his family when he was younger and was out for long, overdue, revenge served cold."

Miguel shakes his head. "Now, that's a dark thought." He pauses. "But I'm afraid the moose vendetta pales in comparison to the need for multiverse stability. How do you say that plural anyway, is it mooses? Meese?"

"Nah, moose." You chuckle, kicking your legs. "One of those weird ones where the singular is the same as the plural."

"An anomaly." Miguel quips.

"Is it ever not possible for you to talk about work?" You give him an incredulous look, but still keeping the same air of playfulness.

"Old habits die hard." Miguel hums.

You notice he's gradually made his way closer to you, a little off guard when you raise your head to look at him and he's less than a foot away. Your lips part and Miguel clears his throat, turning his attention to the monitor behind you.

You slowly breathe out, that was the closest he's probably been to you the whole time you've known him. You could've sworn if the tension hung in the air any longer than it would've resulted in a kiss that finally unmasked the elephant that sure was doing its best to draw attention away from itself in the room. How you wanted him and, (unknown to you) how much he wanted you just as badly.

You figure now is a good time to ask.

"You have any plans next month the weekend of the 22nd?"

Miguel raises an eyebrow. "I don't, same Spider business as usual, why?"

"Come to the Vegas Comic Con with me. My other two friends are going but they're a couple and I'm not trying to be the odd one out all weekend."

"Vegas?" Miguel feels his pulse steadily increase. He had been to Vegas only once, and that was when he was recruiting Ben Reilly, not really having any time to pause and sightsee.

Partying and going out in public spaces wasn't exactly his thing, but the freeing feeling of being out in the city at night did kind of make him curious. He thought gambling was for chumps but he enjoyed a good card game. Maybe Vegas could be one of those "one and done" things. Just to say he had the experience.

"Yeah." You smile. "I mean, not to make it weird or anything. I just figure you need a break and I'm supposed to be cosplaying and I'm used to having at least one person tag along for moral support but-."

"I'll come."

"You....really?" You smile brightly at him, trying to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Miguel sighs. "Yeah I'll come to this... convention, as you put it."

"You don't know how excited I am right now. It's going to be fun! And you gotta dress up with me too." You smirk, your mind suddenly coming alight with all these fun ideas you and Miguel could try out.

But, Miguel is already eagerly waiting to pop that bubble, "I don't wear costumes."

You raise your eyebrows, "You wear one every day!"

"It's a suit, not a costume." He crosses his arms."There's a difference. Who are you dressing up as anyway?"

"Jinx from Arcane." You answer proudly.

"What's a Jinx?"

"Jinx is a person, silly. She's from a TV show called Arcane which is based off this game I play called League of Legends."

"Never heard of it."

"Just watch it on Netflix! There's only one season, nine episodes. It's one of those you can binge really quick."

Miguel huffs a little in amusement at that. "Okay I might watch this show, but I'm still not putting on a damn costume."

"Alright, wise guy." You cross your arms. "If you're not gonna dress up, you'll still at least come with me, right?"

Miguel smirks at you, leaning in a little closer. "Wouldn't miss this weirdo convention with you for the world."

----

Miguel's bloodshot eyes blinked with a heavy stare as the final episode of Arcane concluded, leaving his eye bag expression reflecting back to him on his dark TV.

He was definitely not beating the down bad allegations for you anytime soon, which Peter, Hobie, and Pav loved to so graciously point out every time they could.

-----

The down badness raised to another degree entirely though at the sight of you in your Jinx cosplay in your Vegas hotel room.

Blue wig with the two long braids true to the character running down your shoulders, body art design on your midriff and right arm to mimic Jinx's tattoos, some ripped up purplish-maroon capris, a black crop top and leather accessories to accent the look on your arms, reminiscent of a sort of edgy steampunk vibe, with combat boots and some magenta colored contacts on your eyes, making you seem even more otherworldly and ethereal.

Miguel can't stop gawking, his feelings ranging from awe, to admiration, to pure want, to sudden jealousy at the realization that other people, (most likely hundreds since you were a contestant after all) will get to lay eyes on you all day like this.

Luckily, you're too anxious and proud of yourself to notice, examining yourself in the mirror for any details that might be off, but you could see none, turning and giving him that signature smile of yours that makes the tops of his ears turn red.

"Y-you look great." He manages to say, in a tone that he only hopes disguises his obvious affection and wordless effect you have on him.

His disguise is completely transparent, however, but you try and mask your obvious flattery and slight giddiness at his reaction. "Thanks, Mig."

But, you're horrible at pretending, too, a fact that he mentally seizes with both hands, stuffing in his back pocket for later with a dizzy look of admiration when your back is turned.

Once you're wholly satisfied with the look, and both ready to go, you and Miguel and your friends hit the Vegas strip, Miguel trying to keep his cool as neck after neck turns as you walk by.

Once at Comic Con, you end up losing your friends, off in a world of their own as a newly formed couple, leaving just you and Miguel alone.

Miguel's eyes soften when you take a picture of your passes hanging from matching lanyards side by side angled at the ground with both pairs of your shoes in the shot and post it to your social media stories, realizing you have every intention of showing him off.

You feel fuzzy on the inside when you get stopped for pictures with fellow attendees, giving you numerous compliments at how good you look and chatting about how much they love Jinx and they're so stoked to see such a well done cosplay. (That $500 charge to the arts and crafts store was Soo worth it)

Your favorite photo op was meeting someone with an equally wicked Vi cosplay, standing side by side in a way that looked like you both were copy pasted from the show itself.

Miguel gets mistaken for your boyfriend dozens of times, but he doesn't correct them once, just a little smile on his face as he plays photographer, butterflies in your stomach as he walks a little closer next to you, halfway shielding you in a chivalristic manner from all the extra attention as though he was your personal bodyguard.

You stop by booth after booth, politely conversing with the various artists, actors, and writers, collecting more stickers for your laptop, buying a t shirt, some adorable pins here and there. Like a kid in a candy shop, you take in and gravitate towards every one of your interests and medias you adore like a moth to a flame. Miguel endears himself even more to you with your little Oohs and Aaahs.

You notice Miguel's a little starstruck when he sees one of his favorite comic book writers as a kid, letting him know he can go for a photo op if he wants since you both have the all access tickets, smiling at how cute and nervous he looks as he approaches the writer, scooting a little closer and popping a little awkward thumbs up at the camera. Still, he comes out looking just as photogenic and gorgeous as ever. You shake your head with a smile.

Soon, it's time for the competition. You bounce your leg nervously as you sit in your chair on the stage, feeling what seems like a millions pairs of eyes boring into you, but then you catch Miguel in the audience, both of you the only two people in the room as your gaze stays anchored on him the whole time, nearly missing the announcement from the host that you were awarded first place. Miguel stands and claps loudly as he uses his fingers to whistle, leaving you with a smile that could break your cheeks.

After a successful Con and maybe a couple more bags of merch than you should have indulged in (Miguel being responsible for at least 2 of those, getting you a couple stuffies and t shirts as his congratulations for sweeping the competition away), it was time to have some fun on the town and see what Vegas had to offer.

You got matching drinks from the Hello Kitty cafe, went to the M&M's world (Miguel nearly had a stroke from being surrounded by so much sugar), and the shark reef aquarium. You could have sworn his finger brushed against yours a couple of times when you both were zoned out in the shark tunnel, completely lost in an oceanic world together with no plans to return, until a group of over-zealous and unsupervised 7 year olds nearly knocked him over.

You even convinced him to just try the slot machines once, not even waiting for his cash out coupon for 40 cents to print out before he was yanking you by the arm out of there while you were wheezing with laughter.

Sharing a 12 pack of cheeseburger sliders at White Castle (Miguel had like 8 of them), and some freshly cooked french fries, dashed with the tiniest bit of salt.

Now, you were watching the fountains at the Bellagio, both of your hands creeping closer and closer together as the show went on, until both of your arms were wrapped around each other. Your head was against his chest as the fanfare blasted in the speakers and the gorgeous aqua, teal and fuschia lights of the water lit up the Vegas sky overhead in a spectacular display like a starry watercolor painting.

The mood of the night suddenly felt extremely peaceful, and sensual, a tranquil moment between you and Miguel. Honest feelings underneath the surface that were begging to be released at long last.

You turned your head to find him already staring,

"Miguel, I...."

Before his lips already met yours in the sweetest first kiss, the water splashing behind you in front of the well lit Bellagio, the shooting colors akin to the fireworks bursting inside your heart, before you both gently break it, foreheads still pressed against the other.

"I'm-"

"In love with you?" He asks softly as he brings a thumb to your cheek, tracing the tiniest circle before he kisses you again.

"I absolutely am."

You both get lost inside this out of world experience, kissing each other underneath the warm, nighttime lights of Vegas, still dressed in your Jinx costume, both pairs of arms locked around the other, hearts stirring in your chest as you cement this moment permanently into memory.

You Uber back to your hotel, no longer staying in separate rooms with evening plans of all-night snuggles, binging another series together that you've been meaning to show him, and, if you are both still awake, maybe convincing him to run down to the lobby together for late night snacks from the 24 hour food court in your hotel, and room service waffles in the morning.

Two lovebirds brought together at last by the nighttime lights of Vegas, and all because of a little Comic Con.

A special love rooted in friendship with a sacred meaning only the two of you know about, that playful look in each other's eyes as you open the door to his hotel room, another portal to a cozy world for you two to get lost in as it softly clicks behind you.

---

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff

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nectardaddy · 2 days

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aftermath - higuruma hiromi

cw: blood, death, homicide, manga spoilers (I mean, if you know who tf he is you're fine tbh), language

notes: established relationship, gender neutral, inspired by if I killed someone for you by alec benjamin (was gonna put the song in but I refuse to put the gigantic eyesore that tumblr auto gives me and idk how to fix it)

synopsis: how should one react when their lover shows up on their doorstep covered in blood?

You didn't mean for your breath to hitch in your throat so violently, creating an audible gasp from the air that lodged itself. Your fingers gripping the edge of your opened door with a grasp so desperate your hand already began to ache. Nails digging into the hard wood as you tried to decipher the pressing image before you.

"Hiromi-" you choked out. Voice wavering as his presence alone was enough to make your knees buckle. Dark, unwavering eyes boring into you. Seemingly nothing within them but a glimmer of something primal, macabre, and- desperate. You weren't a stranger to the unyielding looks, always transfixed on something well beyond his reach, but this was different. A look of a monster, and his attire following suit.

He was usually a well dressed, dapper man. But as he stood upon your doorstep, your opinion flipped instantaneously. A ruffled, crumbled suit jacket littered with dark blotches around the cuff, his white shirt underneath being the tell tale sign of what the mysterious blots were. A stark contrast, red on white, staining the previously ironed shirt right down to the threads. Cheeks splattered with the same red, a large spill just under his eye, like he had tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe his face. "What have you done?" You whispered, speaking softly as if it would untangle you from seeing him so heinous.

"Can I come in?" A gruff, almost uncaring, voice in comparison to your own. You didn't know why you hurriedly nodded, why you shifted out of the way for him to enter your home, why you thought letting this man back into your home was a good idea. It was against your better judgment, but you wracked your brain about the thought of 'there has to be a good reason.' This was the man you loved after all, not a cold hearted killer, or so you came to believe.

Hearing the door click shut and the lock engage, his eyes scanned his surroundings before returning to you. Tired eyes once again looking into you, almost trying to see through you with the intensity of it. "I killed them," he said bluntly, without regard and without further context. His words made your shoulders slump, your body creating shivers as his words hit you so profoundly.

"Who?" Was all you managed to ask, the word escaping your lips so quietly you hoped he would be able to hear it at all. Not asking why, not asking where or when. Who.

"The retrial was today," he said simply. It was all you needed, an impactful statement to which your eyes widened and your mouth opened. Quickly shutting it as no words were found on the tip of your tongue, your throat suddenly dry at the revelation, you could only stare. Looking over him to find any sort of answer, your eyes stopping at the collar of his suit jacket. There once was a small sunflower pin on the lapel, one you had gifted him years ago to replace the former. It was gone. It came off. Could the man you love really be so violent? So much so his beloved pin was ripped from him in the heat of the moment?

You couldn't say what had possessed you to step closer to the man, your lover, the murderer. Each step becoming easier as you neared him, stopping just before him and looking up. So close you could smell the gruesome, irony twinge mingling with the scent of his cologne. It made you nauseous, wanting nothing more than to spill your guts right then and there. But you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look upon the man who had sworn he'd love you to the end of his days. "Are you alright?"

A man of his situation might have said no, should have said no. "I've never felt better," he answered honestly. Looking down at you with a ghost of a smile, a mind fraying image now engraved in your psyche. Your fingers reached for his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath as your hands came in contact with him. It was damp.

"Oh my god," you spoke, forcing yourself to close your eyes at the sensation. You feared to lift your hands to what you would see on your palms, subconsciously pushing down the thoughts to the deepest part of your mind. "Oh my fucking god," you repeated, unable to form a single coherent thought as you couldn't stop yourself from circling back to the feeling.

But the hand, drenched in the same crimson, that gently touched your cheek made your eyes snap open and you inhaled sharply. There was blood on his hands, staining his fingers in sin so much so it was under his nails. That blood was now on you, ripping your stomach right out of your body as you wanted to heave. Desperately searching his features for any sort of answer, but only coming to the same conclusion.

The man you loved killed two people - and liked it.

oh I'm definitely making a part 2 are you kidding??? I wrote this shit in an hour that's a new fucking record for me

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw blood #tw death #tw homicide #tw murder #jjk spoilers

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lawva-girl · 1 day

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Jealousy

Law x fat!reader

reader is gender nuetral. :))))

WC: 1365

shout out to @sukunas-play-thing for the idea!!!! I hope you like this with my whole heart!!!!

I just know in my soul Law would go so incredibly well with a plussized person!!!!!!!

Boa Hancock. The most beautiful woman in the world. Looking at her made you feel like there wasn’t even a comparison between the two of you, she was so pretty. You were… average? It was hard to tell.

You, along with the Heart pirates, were all staring at her in amazement. You heard the voice of her sister, warning all the men of what could happen if their sister got upset. Saying something about how she isn’t afraid to turn allies either.

It didn’t matter, they all still looked. You wondered if it worked on women too, since Ikkaku was also staring with heart eyes. After a quick glance around, you found that Law was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly you were storming into his room, desperate to find him. You knew it wasn’t entirely plausible but what if he had gone off and turned to stone? You had to find him, you could probably convince Hancock to turn him back…

You turned the corner to leave his room, when a voice scared the fuck out of you.

“What are you doing here y/n-ya?”

Freezing in place, part of you was incredibly grateful he didn’t turn to stone, another part of you was freaking out that your beloved Law had caught you in his room.

“Oh Law… uhm the crew was staring at Hancock again… I came to get you.” You barely got the sentence out, since you were trying to make up a reason as to why you were here that wasn’t pathetic.

“Thank you for getting me, I’ll head out there now.”

Suddenly there was panic in your gut again, but he was already on the move to you, where the door was.

“Law, you shouldn’t go out there! You might see her!” You turned fully towards him and decided that you would refuse to let him pass.

“Why would that matter?” He didn’t even slow down, just opened a room and ‘shambles’ his way past you.

You turned as quickly as you could to look at him but his hat was the only thing you saw. He was gone.

You stood for only a second before beginning to chase after him.

Once outside, there was a peculiar scene.

The heart pirates were all sitting on their knees, head hung low. They were sitting in front of Hancock and Law, who were lecturing the group together.

Upon seeing you on the deck of the polar tang Law nodded, then went back to yelling. You stood there confused, clearly something had happened, but you felt like an outsider.

Not a clue as to what was happening.

Thankfully, Law decided to clue you in on what occurred later.

The two of you were sitting in the medical bay, where he was patching up a gash in your leg. It had been an eventful day to say the least. The bay itself was quiet and calm though, not showing any signs of what had occurred that day. With the exception of you and your leg of course.

“You can’t just run around however you want y/n-ya.” Law didn’t even look up at you as he spoke, instead focusing on the stitches he was putting in your leg.

“It’s not like I wanted to fall off the Tang… my depth perception was just a bit off. Plus I would’ve been fine if the repairs Shachi was working on were finished.” You closed your eyes when you felt the pinching pain Law was administering.

“I’ve had to yell at too many people today, can’t any of you behave?” He grumbled, making it obvious for you that he was upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t fall again. It’s not like anyone would be able to fish me out if I did.”

“What?”

Law stared at you now, you assumed he looked up in shock at one point or another.

“What did you have to yell at the others for?” You asked him, not giving him the chance to say anything.

Law took a deep breath, “they almost got turned to stone, Hancock caught them all staring. Thankfully she wasn’t upset, since we had helped Luffy.”

“Oh that’s good…” you laid back fully, closing your eyes. You had always worked as a somewhat friend to Law, hearing him rant and complain. It made you happy to have a use. It made you especially happy to have Law need you, despite knowing that you didn’t have a chance with him.

Law didn’t speak much in general, so if you wanted to know you kinda had to pry. You wanted to know so badly how he ended up lecturing beside Hancock, but you also did not want to know at all.

“So.. you weren’t staring with them?” You felt your heart quicken, but you didn’t say anything to take it back.

Law coughed a bit, then explained, “No. she’s pretty but I’m not… attracted to her.”

“Why not? She’s beautiful and she has the perfect body! Plus her hair is perfect and she’s so skinny, anyone could fish her out of water.” You spoke the words before you even realized it, feeling the consequences seconds later when Law hesitated to respond.

“I don’t like…” he paused and smiled into an evil smirk, like it was second nature, “I prefer women who have something I can hold onto.”

You sat up with eyes wide in shock, and mouth agape. “But…”

“What? I’m not allowed?” Law looked at you now, and you could swear there was something in his eyes. Something that you could get extremely familiar with.

While you remained there speechless, Law finished on your leg. As he smoothed the bandages over the slice, you stared at his hands.

“I’m done. Just make sure you take it easy for 3 days, unless you want it to reopen.” Law stood, turning swiftly and started to clean his tools and pack his equipment.

“You don’t like Hancock at all?” You called out from the hospital bed.

“No. I like people with something to hold onto. Like you.” Law turned slightly, you could just barely see his face enough to tell he was being serious.

“Oh! Uhm!”

“I like people who have soft thighs I can use as pillows, people who have a belly for me to grab while spooning, people that have a butt and love handles. I like to grab them and watch…”

Your eyes were wide, unsure of why he was telling you this and why he wouldn’t stop.

“I like people who have meat on their bones. Plus when a person like that is drowning, only a real man can save them. I can lift you, and I can lift you when you're soaked too.”

“Law I.. why are you,” you couldn’t think of the words you wanted to use, until Law interrupted.

“Why would I tell you?” You nodded fervently, “I’m telling you because I hope you’ll do something about it.”

You stared at him, he seemed so far from you. He wasn’t at all but you felt weird trying to stand on your leg that was freshly patched. So you motioned for him to come over to you with your hand.

“Why?” He was walking over as he spoke.

“I have to tell you something..” you motioned for him to come closer, so he did.

You again motioned for him to come closer, and he rolled his eyes but did again.

You leaned forward and closed the gap between you two, whispering to him “my type in men.. its men who are named Law.”

He turned his head towards yours in shock, and you chuckled. He took the opportunity of the proximity and pressed his lips to yours. Your chuckle died in your throat, as you pressed back into him.

It felt like magic. His lips were soft, and soo warm. You were convinced such a cold steely man would have a matching body.

Then you realized, all this time. Law wasn’t cold, he was just caring in a different way. He had answered every question you had. He never put you down, and he seemed to like you the way you are.

#trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #law x y/n #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #ARGH #this was a struggle for me to like plan out #but i feel good with the direction it went #i also realized i dont write to like #create a world or make beautiful images #i write to pretend like fictional characters can receive the love and feelings i have for them

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kerubimcrepin · 2 days

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Liveblog: Wakfu Season 1 (episodes 1-9)

NOTE: I will be doing rewatch liveblogs of multiple episodes per post, because the focus of this blog isn't on the Wakfu cast, and I am not as well versed in their characterisations, so I won't even have much analysis to show you. Sorry ^^;;

Episode 1 - The Child from the Mist

I promise not to get sappy, but seeing season 1 after all these years does make me quite emotional. Ah, how the time flies.

Thank god I'm not a Yugo lore blog. I'd have to translate this too, as if I didn't go through enough psychological trauma. 💀

The sheer Bitch Olympics that would happen if Ruel opened a restaurant and you-know-which-three-men entered it, would cause at least 5 casualties.

I need this so bad. You have no idea how much I need this.

Episode 2 - Yugo the Eliatrope

I hang onto every mention of Bonta like a lifeline. I know Ruel might be lying, but imagining him having some marginal connection though like, Ruel's buddies knowing some people who know buddies of Jurgen-Crepins, is making me giddy.

Remember this tree. It will be important later.

Episode 3 - The Black Crow

Guys I think Ruel likes Bonta.

Anyway now I'm imagining the Bitch Olympics that would happen if he tried to haggle with Kerubim. Pangaea would explode.

I like to imagine this is the sort of life that would await Kerubim, had Lou not been smart enough to flee from the relationship.

[remembers Joris canonically does cartography as a hobby] I think I hauve covid.

Also yes, this episode is the return of the one and only Grav'Mar'Av.

Episode 4 - The Ugly Pageant

[linguistics major voice] It's just that y'know I really wonder what Ecaflip tongue is like and and. Personally, I think Joris is fluent in Ecaflip tongue, but can be a bit rusty at reading and writing it, while—— [I am forcefully taken off stage by the police]

Episode 5 - The Magnificent Five

One of my life dreams is writing a fic that's set during the Wakfu manga, or shortly after it, with Joris on the ship from the manga, or with the Wakfu cast being quests at his home.

The reason I want to do this, is that political discussions between Evangelyne and Joris would go so hard, whether they agree or disagree. They're both the sort of person who can masterfully turn every innocuous topic to Ogrest's Chaos/Monarchy/Climate Change/War. That, and I am a big believer in Evanglelyne&Joris&Amalia friendship (since Amalia and Eva probably had known him as kids, due to politics.)

Episode 6 - Vampyro

I think everyone who wears an enchanted cape to look cooler is a bit of a try-hard edgelord. Sorry not sorry, but this applies to Julith as well.

Episode 7 - Poisonous Beauty

[approaches mic yet again, more haggard, obviously beaten] Rabies confirmed to exist in Krosmoz.

Episode 8 - Xav the Baker

This moment is so important to me. You have no idea how important it is. Yugo and Eva both know that there's not much that he can do to bribe her. And its hilarious.

[puts on tinfoil hat] We know that Chtibrout Town and Xav the Baker are in Amakna. This means that this town is very famous for its baking — enough for a foreign king to be interested, and for a person from Bonta to come to compete here.

That, or this line of thinking is just a sign of my declining mental state.

Episode 9 - Ruel's Bag

The map lore deepens.

A third underwear pervert has hit the pentagon.

#krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #wak1-2 #ro liveblogs dofus

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gaysindistress · 3 days

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Things I think would happen if you were in a relationship with Karlach

Main masterlist I swear I’m working on a bg3 masterlist

1. Starting a relationship isn’t easy

You have no idea if she actually likes you and all of your advances feel like they’ve failed. She’s friendly to everyone and puts so much faith into your party that you cant gauge her approval of you. Numerous times you’ve tried to make a subtle move but with nothing to show. She always greets you with the same energy as she does everyone else. She gives you all the same smile and excitement. She supports everyone without a second thought. She politely rejects your affection every time you try to give her even a shred of what you truly want to.

The night of the tiefling party comes around and you’ve finally worked up the courage to just tell her. I imagine that you’ve enlisted Shadowheart and Astarion to help you get ready and they’ve spent hours at this point doing so. Your hair has been washed and styled by Astarion’s nimble fingers while Shadowheart has lightly painted your face with makeup she’s made from the foliage around your camp. Wyll and Gale both have stopped in theirs tracks to compliment you as well as having agreed to keep Karlach busy and away from you. Lae’zel has been sitting by the entire time pretending to be sharpening her swords but also adding her own input every now and then. At one point she took over braided because Astarion didn’t get them tight enough and she can’t stand it.

When the others have decided that you’re ready, they huddle around with nervous energy and give you a big thumbs up as you walk away. By now Karlach has figured out that something is going on however it’s not until she sees you that it full registers. Her breath catches as she looks over to see you walking her way. She’s always thought you were beautiful but the moonlight and general joy of the evening gives you a glow she can’t ignore. Like the moon goddess herself, you seem to radiate the night sky’s beauty and she can’t help but stare at you with an open mouth. She almost doesn’t hear your shy greeting and has to shake herself back to reality.

Your entire conversation feels like a dream and she almost doesn’t believe that she hears you right when you confess your feelings for her. There’s no way that the leader of her party, the Hero of the grove likes her, right? Surely you’re good friends with everyone and you’re just making your rounds. Surely your dressed up look tonight is meant for someone else. Surely there’s no way that you’re telling her that you have feelings for her and oh gods she’s an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner.

Gay panic is real my friends and Karlach is 110% a victim of it every time.

2. You’re a menace to her

You’re always putting yourself at risk for those who need it. Not a day goes by where you’re not getting your party into some sort of fight because you can’t say no. It’s one thing to help escort the Tieflings but it’s another to take out an entire goblin camp for them. Sometimes she thinks you do it only to scare her and make her blood pressure spike. Don’t even get me started on how frantic she would get if you were injured. She’d rage on everyone and take on every enemy alone if it meant Shadowheart could heal you without distraction.

But there’s another form of menacing that gets under her skin the most.

Following the tiefling party, it becomes established that physical intimacy is off the table. It’s worse yet when Dammon confirms that he can’t do anything at the moment but promises to find a solution later on. It’s hard on her to be so close yet so far from the one thing she desires the most and you make it even worse.

It started out innocently; you’d tell her when you’d go to clean up so someone knew where you were but she can’t help herself. She’d follow you to the water to keep you company most times. Keeping her back turned, Karlach likes to listen to you ramble about your day and hear you so relaxed as you cleanse your body of dirt, grim, and other nasty things. Sometimes she’d peak when she thinks you wouldn’t notice but you always do. You wink and playfully splash at her as you continue to go about your task. However sometimes upon making eye contact, you can see that she’s burning so hot you’re worried that she might combust on the spot. Her yellow eyes have scanned and committed every inch of your body to memory, further fueling her desire for you. Should she join you, the water might come to a boil with the way her engine’s flames are almost consuming her. Embarrassment is too weak a word to describe the disgusting feeling that overcomes her when she realizes she’s been caught. You always reassure her that you’re flattered and quite enjoy her affections however it does nothing to convince her.

That’s when you decide to test the waters.

Once in the shadow lands and having spoken to Dammon privately after Karlach does, you know that there’s an end in sight for this celibate relationship. It’s only a matter of finding the iron that he requires so you begin a little experiment of sorts.

Karlach is a tease in her own right and can be shamelessly filthy when she wants. The sight of her in combat alone makes you burn as hot as her but it’s when she chooses to murmur filthy things into your ear late at night that destroys you the most. The time has come for you to return the favor.

Would wearing your shirt ties looser ignite her flames? Would trading clothes with Shadowheart one night be the thing that tips the scales? Would forging clothes altogether when you’re sleeping side by side be what makes her feral?

Karlach does what she can to keep her shit together but it’s all becoming too much. She starts to burn blue almost all hours of the day as you get closer and closer to finding the infernal iron. When you finally do find it, you look at each other with astonishment and surprise.

“Did we…did we just…” the words tumble out of her mouth as she stares at it in your hands.

“Oh my gods I think we did.”

Fast forward to when Dammon has fixed her as best as he can and proposes a test to see if it worked. Karlach is practically vibrating with excitement and nerves at the thought of finally getting to touch you. Feeling your arms wrap around her and hold her as if you’re afraid she’s going to disappear absolutely melts her heart. Overwhelming joy washes over her as she clenches to you as well but something else comes over her too. A realization.

She’s touching you.

She’s actually able to touch you without hurting you.

Years of pent up desire and thoughts of pure debauchery begin to consume her mind. What was once joy quickly morphs in lust and she has to pull away from you to avoid claiming you like a rutting predator right in front of Dammon.

3. Disguise is your favorite spell

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room; sex toys are going to be difficult to get in this world. No one can convince me that you could find a strap on in the Emerald Grove or Moonrise towers. Obviously you can go without them but if you have a disguise spell on hand, why not use it???

The first couple of times you and Karlach have sex, it’s sweet and gentle. It borders love making with the way she utterly worships your body and you hers. Things do get rougher when the years of going without touch catch up to her but for the most part it’s soft and tender. Karlach wants to memorize you because she’s terrified she’s going to lose you so she takes her time. You want to ensure that she knows she won’t lose you so you devote yourself to her pleasure every night without fail.

However Karlach has this…daydream that has begun to worm its way to becoming all she thinks about it.

She wants to fuck you stupid.

She wants you babbling and sobbing with pleasure as she fucks you senseless. She wants her name to be the only thing you remember and your body to be covered in her scent, marks, seed, anything and everything that is her.

Enter said disguise spell and there you have it; the chance to make her fantasy real

#karlach x reader #karlach x tav #karlach #Karlach imagine #karlach bg3 #karlach fanfic #bg3 imagine #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

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foggieststars · 2 days

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💘... lestappen ofc <33

ok in my mind. charles tried to flirt with max once at a party and max was clueless which charles interpreted as rejection and now Loathes max bcs of it......now please enjoy lestappen seven minutes in heaven??

“Lando did this on purpose, you know,” Charles scowls, as Max closes the closet door behind them.

“Did what?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow. It pisses Charles off, like everything Max does pisses Charles off.

“Made sure we would be in here together.”

“Really?” Max asks, leaning back against the closet wall. He folds his arms across his chest. “I had no idea Lando was so talented.”

His tone is thick with disbelief.

“You are being stupid,” Charles snipes. “He could have put something in the bottle, to make it land on me. Or maybe he is just good at –” Charles says, making a spinning motion with his hand. “He did something.”

Max snorts. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he thinks it is funny. He knows that we - you know.”

Max inclines his head. “We?”

Charles huffs a heavy breath. “He knows that we do not like each other.”

“Really?” Max asks, mouth curving into a smile. “I like you just fine, Charlie.”

Charles takes a steadying breath. “I have asked you not to call me this.”

Max says nothing, just watches him with that familiar heavy gaze. It sets Charles’ teeth on edge, makes his skin prickle. Max is always watching him, like he’s looking for signs of weakness, waiting to pounce. Charles had been stupid enough, once, to think it meant something more, that the way Max looked at him meant anything at all.

Charles knows better, these days.

He opens his mouth to say something, uncomfortable with the silence, when there’s a loud bang on the door.

Charles jumps. Max just laughs, showing all of his white teeth.

“Hearing far too much conversation in there, boys!” Lando calls through the heavy wood. “Doesn’t exactly sound like you’re speaking French, if you know what I mean.”

Charles closes his eyes, tries to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on how he’s going to kill Lando once he gets out of here.

It’s just seven minutes. Charles can do seven minutes. In fact, there must be less left to go by now, right?

Charles opens his eyes, ready to ask. He knows Max has a dorky, glow in the dark digital watch.

But Max is - he’s moved off the wall. He’s closed the distance the tiny closet afforded them, barely any space left between their bodies.

“Are you going to keep whining?” Max whispers. Charles watches his lips move, swallows hard.

“I am not whining,” Charles insists, heart beginning to pound in his chest. Max brings a hand up, cups Charles’ jaw. He thumbs over Charles’ cheek, and Charles thanks God that it’s dark in here, so Max can’t see the heat in his face. Maybe he can feel it, though. His palm is rough against Charles’ skin. “Always you are making things up.”

“Charles?” Max says.

“Yes?” Charles breathes, watches Max’s tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip.

“Shut up.” And then Max is - oh, God, Max is kissing him. It starts off slow, gentle, nothing more than a chaste press of lips. Charles wonders if this is all it’s going to be, if Max is - what? Is he doing this to embarrass him? So he can come out of the closet afterwards and crow to all their friends that Charles melted like putty in his hands?

Except, then Max is tugging him closer, tongue slipping into Charles’ mouth, and Max’s hands find Charles’ waist, and - oh, there’s the firm press of Max’s body against his own. Max’s thumbs sit right in the dip of his waist, and when he squeezes Charles lets out a pitiful noise.

Max smiles into the kiss, nipping at Charles’ bottom lip. Charles groans, uncomfortably aware of the thumping bass on the other side of the door. That all their friends are just a few feet from them, that they can probably hear the embarrassing noises he's making.

It makes an uncomfortable warmth stir in the pit of Charles’ stomach. Or maybe that’s just the way Max’s thigh has slipped between his own, giving him something to bear down against.

And that’s just - fucking ridiculous, is what it is. Charles hates Max, everybody knows that. He’s never forgotten the way Max had made him feel that first time they’d met, small and stupid and completely unwanted. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s so clearly enjoying himself, the warm, wet drag of Max’s tongue against his own, the firm press between his legs.

Max breaks the kiss, both of them breathing heavily. Charles can feel his face prickling, where Max’s stubble has rubbed his cheeks raw. Max ducks his head, scrapes his teeth across Charles’ throat.

Charles has seen the way Max watches him sometimes, at parties like the one tonight. Like he hates Charles. There’s a sharp, stinging pain in the side of his throat, and for one truly insane, wild moment Charles thinks Max really might be trying to rip his throat out, except –

“Did you just give me a fucking hickey, Max - I swear to God –”

“Shut up,” Max grunts, again, and Charles is really starting to feel offended. Max won’t stop telling him to shut up, won’t stop kissing him like he wants him. Which Charles knows he doesn’t.

“Max,” Charles gasps, as Max turns his attention to the other side of his throat. He can’t stop bucking up against Max’s thigh between his legs, can’t stop being horrifyingly obvious, wearing his treacherous want on his sleeve. Lando could pull that door open any second. “Max - what are you –”

“Come home with me,” Max says, pressing another kiss to Charles’ open mouth, top lip, catching his cupid’s bow, wet and messy.

And - oh. Oh, okay. That’s not what Charles had been expecting to hear.

“I - Max,” Charles gapes. “We can’t. The party, I have only been here for twenty minutes, my God –”

“Fuck the party,” Max murmurs. Their lips brush as he speaks, so close together. “Are you coming home with me? Or not?”

Charles swallows, lips tingling, throat stinging. Is he really going to do this? Throw two years of pointless hatred down the drain, not knowing what waits on the other side? Whether Max is going to take him home and keep him, or throw him away in the morning?

Charles knows his answer. Had known it the first time he’d seen Max across the room at a party two years ago.

“Yeah,” Charles says, but it comes out as more of a sigh. He hopes it sounds long-suffering rather than wistful. “Yeah, okay.”

Max’s face splits into a smile, and it’s - he’s beautiful. He fumbles for Charles’ hand in the dark, threads their fingers together. He presses a final chaste kiss to Charles’ cheek, like the wings of a butterfly brushing against his skin.

“Good,” Max says, and squeezes his hand tight.

Charles squeezes back.

#ask #my fic

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pretty-little-mind33 · 13 hours

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NON-MAGIC AU JAMES POTTER AND A FEM!READER WHO IS NERVOUS ABOUT THE GYM

Ask: hi hon! i saw your request were open and i was wondering if you could write about james with a reader who has a hard time with going to the gym and he's super patient with her and kinda helps her develop a healthy relationship with the gym? i totally understand if you don’t want to!! have a wonderful day hon and stay safe and hydrated 💐

~ this was such an adorable idea that i wanted to write something even if only in headcanon form! i hope you don't mind, lovie! thank you sm for requesting 🫶 ~

• James is so very strong! He's an athletic, muscular guy. ARMS FOR DAYS! He doesn't have any problems going to the gym. On the contrary, he loves the gym. It's his happy place and he's also made loads of friends there!

• (he makes friends wherever he goes.)

• It isn't until you're maybe 3-4 months into dating that James brings up the dreaded question; "You wanna to go to the gym with me?"

• The first three times he asks, your excuses work on him. "I'm not feeling super well!" - "I have plans with some friends, I'm sorry!" and even, "I'm on my period!" your understanding boyfriend doesn't bat an eye!

• However, James quickly picks up on some very obvious signs that the gym makes you uncomfortable because you'll avoid the topic entirely and become all shifty.

• Naturally, this prompts your mature (usually 😙) boyfriend to plop you down on his bed and have a conversation. When you open up about your insecurities, James listens patiently.

• "Love, why didn't you tell me you were feeling nervous and unsure? I'd never look down on you because you don't feel comfortable with something as trivial as the gym," James says and leans in to kiss your nose, his hand rubbing soothing circles over your thigh.

• "Really?" you ask, your tone small and he nods.

• "Really," he assures you.

• A few weeks later James had forgotten his water bottle at home, so being the good girlfriend you are, you bring it to him. When you see the gym James uses and realize it's very calm and everyone seems friendly, you gather the courage to ask James if you can accompany him next time.

• He's overjoyed! "Of course we can go, darling, I'll be with you the entire time! Okay?"

• When you go, you're still nervous and James can tell. He can always tell. He holds your hand, tightens your ponytail/pushes hair behind your ear (depending on hair length), and then kisses you.

• "I'm right here with you, darling. I'll show you how all the machine's work and be with you the entire time, okay? You don't need to be shy or nervous around me, I promise!" his words are calming and you feel better.

• You go try the machines that interest you and James helps you understand them by showing you. He's sooo patient with you, watching you with kind eyes as you try them out.

• "Don't forget to drink, lovely," he says, handing you your water bottle.

• If you run into any of his gym friends, you realize he's been gushing on and on about you. His friends all LOVE you instantly. Now you have even more people to help/watch over you which makes you feel safe!

• When you finish up, you're shy. "James?"

• "Yes, baby?" he says, walking back to the car with your gym bag (which he'd carefully prepared for you) and his slung over his arm. He wanted you to have your own so you could feel independent. He's considerate like that 😏

• "I might wanna go again. Make this a weekly thing? Once a week I could come with you?"

• James takes your hand and stop you from walking. He kisses both of your hands and looks into your hands. "I'd love to make this a weekly thing. Well take it slow, no need to rush, and soon I promise you'll feel better about the gym. I'm so proud of you!"

• HE ENDLESSLY PRAISES YOU AND REMINDS YOU HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU AND HOW WELL YOU DID!

• James just loves sharing the things he loves with the people he loves, so your newfound interest in the gym makes him so happy!

• It doesn't take long for you to also like the gym, especially because James is there.

• He's not always hovering over you once you're used to the machines and the atmosphere. But he's always close! All you need is to look around and you see him somewhere!

• He also packs an extra shirt in his gym bag for you in case you become insecure (he doesn't tell you because he doesn't want to promote the feeling, just ease it if it happens 😊)

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 days

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The Twin Flame - Invisible String (Infinity War/Endgame Version)

"Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire, chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes The Twin Flame Chapter List | The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"How do you do it?"

Steve looks up from the blank page he'd stared at for the better part of an hour. With Sam and Natasha gone to replenish supplies, it's just you and Steve in some derelict motel room. It's been almost a year on the run. You have no idea where you are. No idea what you're doing. You're not even really sure how you ended up here. And in spite of all of that, Steve still holds his head up high. He's still calm, collected. You've all lost everything and he takes it in stride.

You can see it weighing on him. And at the same time, it doesn't. He still believes that the world is good, still fights for the things he believes in with everything he has. He offers you a tight smile. "You know, I was just about to ask you the same thing."

You look at him strangely, a huff of a laugh leaving your mouth. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just... here."

He vehemently shakes his head, repeatedly tapping his pen on the notepad, "You don't give yourself enough credit. What you did... it was really brave. And I know it was hard for you."

"I'd do it again if I had to." You shrug. "Except for the Tony shooting me part. I wouldn't do that again."

"You just did it again," Steve points out.

"What?"

"Made everything feel brighter."

"A joke will do that," you easily reply.

He shakes his head. "It wasn't the joke."

You softly smile. "Thanks, Steve."

"I know this wasn't what we planned, but I really do believe it'll all work itself out."

You anxiously twist your fingers as you try to broach a topic you'd thought about relentlessly. You could see your friends losing themselves. You knew it because so were you.

Some days, you all looked so tired, so weathered from a year of constantly moving and fighting. Some days, you were all so angry, with each other, with the circumstances. On those days, the wind could blow in the wrong direction and it would set off an entire day of yelling and bickering with each other.

You saw less and less of Sam's signature goofy grin with each passing day. Nat was getting more anxious, more paranoid with every glance over her shoulder. Wanda had confided in you her desire to not come back from her trips with Vision and with each trip, you grew less and less sure that she'd come back. It seemed like every day was a new breaking point.

"There are ways we could end this. Without giving up Bucky. You'd get to go home. Figure things out with the team," you hesitantly broach.

"Like by signing the Accords?" Steve chortles, resting the notebook on the table.

"I don't think there's a person in the world that could get you to sign the Accords," you chuckle. "But...you could cut a deal."

He snorts. "It'd have to be one hell of a deal." He thinks over your words for a moment and it occurs to him that you didn't say 'we' when you talked about going home. It takes a moment for the realization to settle in. For your offer to fully sink in. "You can't be serious."

"Just think about it."

His entire face furrows with anger. "No! I won't think about it. And you shouldn't either."

You reach over the table to grasp Steve's hand. You look at him with an expression that begs him to really think about your situation realistically, "They were never going to let me go, Steve. You know that. Even if we all make it back, they'll find something, if it's not this, it'll be something else. You know they will. And I - I can't run the rest of my life, but you guys, you guys could go back home. Enjoy your lives."

Steve gently squeezes your hand, dropping it after a moment, "And what do you think Sam would say if he heard you right now? If he heard you offering up your life so we could go back? Do you honestly think he'd ever agree to a deal that locked you away for good?"

You open your mouth, only to close it again when you find yourself unable to respond to Steve's questions. Instead, you offer, "Sam would have his family back. He'd understand."

"I don't think he would. I don't think he'd ever forgive me. Or you. And even if he could, that's not a deal any of us are ever going to make."

"Four lives for one isn't a bad deal."

"No matter what anyone else says, you are not some pawn. You're not a bargaining chip," Steve enunciates. "You're a person. We come home together or not at all."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we fight. Together. Just like always."

You slump back down in your seat. You shake your head at Steve's unfailing moral beliefs. You admired that about him, how he always seemed so sure of himself, how he could always tell right from wrong. You found yourself losing touch with that part of yourself lately. You acquiesce with a sigh, "How do you do it?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. You - you bend when you can, snap when you have to."

"Something's wrong."

You look over at Sam, concern weighing his face down, "What?"

“They’re gonna need help. Stay here," he orders. "Keep them out.”

“But I could help.”

“And you are. The best offense is a good defense.”

"Sam!" you call after him as he takes to the sky. "...And he's gone. Sure, I'll just stay here all alone, fighting aliens all by myself. That's definitely more safe. And now, I'm just talking to myself."

"Hey," Bucky calls, his eyes having caught you standing here fighting all alone from across the field. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

You dodge a fist that flies at your face, "Being bossed around by Sam. Trying not to die mostly. You?"

"The same. Fighting a bunch of aliens that want to kill us."

"Behind you!' you scream out. Before he has a chance to react, the alien descends on him. There is no thought as a vine rips out of the ground, whipping around the alien's leg and dragging him away from Bucky.

He forcefully exhales, his eyes blown wide, "Thanks."

"Anytime." You smile up at him. "And totally not a big deal, but do you always strike up conversations when you're fighting?"

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, "Do you always listen to what Sam tells you to do?"

"Only when the world is ending."

"Same here."

Suddenly, a flash of lighting emerges from the sky.

"Oh, you guys are so screwed!" Bruce triumphantly laughs.

"Thor?" you call out.

“Rainbow Sunshine!” Thor beams.

You smile, still slightly winded by the fight, "It's good to see you."

"I am Groot," a voice grumbles out from behind Thor.

“Oh, right, this is my friend, Tree,” Thor introduces, gesturing to the tall tree standing behind him.

“I am Groot,” Groot objects.

You gesture to yourself, “And I am Rainbow Sunshine, sometimes just Sunshine. And depending on who you ask, also Pinkie Pie.”

“Sam,” you call, stumbling through the forest.

“Over here,” he panickedly shouts back.

“Hey, Sam,” you shakily exhale, finally in Sam’s line of sight. You stop a few feet away from him, a strange, distant look on your face as you stumble. He catches you before you hit the ground. “Sam, I don’t - I don’t feel so good.”

His breath catches in his throat when he sees your hand start to dust, little particles floating away in the air. “No!”

“Awww,” you groan, looking down at your hand slowly disappearing. “Why is it always me?”

And then you were gone. Right before Sam’s eyes.

And though you'd just witnessed yourself disintegrate into dust, in the blink of an eye, you were back. Completely fine. Standing in the forest in Wakanda like nothing had ever happened.

"Oh my God," you start, watching Sam with the same bewildered expression standing right in front of you. "We're dead! We're dead! We're dead, aren't we? We survived, but we're dead!"

"You're not dead," a voice calls from behind you. "It's been five years, and your friends need you now."

"Five years?" you jolt, whirling around to face the unfamiliar voice.

"There isn't time to explain. Your friends need you," Dr. Strange repeats. "Thanos has returned."

"Returned?" you squawk. "When did he leave?"

"Sometime in the last five years, I'm guessing," Sam sarcastically remarks.

You put your hands on your hips, looking over to Sam, "Aww... we gotta go fight again."

"So I've heard," Sam scoffs.

You politely raise a hand. Dr. Strange quirks an eyebrow at you as you pant with a hand resting on your knee. "Is there time for a water break?"

"No."

"Sunshine," Steve calls, waving you over.

"Sunshine?" Bucky repeats, a slight disdain and question in his words.

Steve dismissively shrugs. "It suits her."

"It's a ridiculous nickname," Bucky disagrees.

You're in the middle of a conversation with Sam on the other side of the jet, you hold out your finger to Steve and Bucky telling them to give you a minute.

"It just works. She's such a warm person. A freaking goofball. Especially after everything she's gone through, it suits her," Steve repeats.

"Everything she's gone through?" Bucky cautiously questions.

"That's a story for a different day, Buck."

Before Bucky can probe anymore, you make your way over to the two of them.

"How can I help my Star Spangled friend and - " you stop, clicking your teeth together as you look at Bucky for a moment too long. You narrow your eyes at Bucky, rocking back and forth on your heels. For a second, he thinks you're scared, hesitant because he did just try to kill you at one point. "Nope, sorry, I don't have a nickname for you yet."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow and in spite of his best efforts, a small chuckle bubbles out of his mouth.

"Told you, Sunshine," Steve repeats, a warm smile on his face.

"It's a ridiculous nickname," you playfully complain, taking a seat in between the two super soldiers. As the words leave your mouth, you lightly punch Steve's arm. "I've told you that a million times."

"You love it," Steve scoffs, throwing his heavy arm around your shoulders.

From underneath Steve's arm, you look up at Bucky with a wide grin, "Don't listen to him, it's ridiculous."

"So Sunshine?" Bucky gruffly chuckles, repeating Steve's nickname for you. "Very fitting alter-ego."

You laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "It's not an alter ego, just a nickname that Steve won't let go."

"Ah," Bucky nods. "So what is the alter ego?"

"I don't have one. It used to be 'The Asset' but now," you sigh. "Now, I guess I'm just me."

"The Asset?"

You do a lazy two-finger salute, nodding your head once. "SHIELD owned and sanctioned."

Bucky finds himself at a loss for words. Partly because it really does sound terrible. But mostly because he knows exactly how it feels to be reduced to nothing more than a piece of property. "That's... shitty."

"Yeah," you agree, twisting your mouth as though you've just accepted your situation as was is, like you've resigned yourself to the knowledge that it's what you are and will continue you be. Before Bucky can say anything else, ask anymore prying questions, you nudge your shoulder with his, the first time anyone's initiated physical contact with him in a very, very long time, "But just between the two of us, you can't trust people who give themselves super-hero names. Especially bad super-hero names."

"Good advice."

"You know, you're not that bad when you're not trying to kill me," you tease, your voice just above a whisper as both Sam and Steve snore from across the Quinjet.

He rolls his eyes with a huff of amusement. "Thanks."

"And you know what else? I've decided on your nickname," you gleefully tell him.

"Do I even want to know?"

"I'm going to call you James."

His eyebrows furrow as the smile he so desperately tried to keep at bay finally surfaces. "You know, I hate to burst your bubble, but that's my real name."

"But everyone calls you Bucky, so it'll be my nickname for you." You gently nudge his shoulder with yours. Bucky is more than a little shocked at the physical contact. It was even more surprising than when you plopped yourself down in the seat beside him when there were plenty of other open seat. You sat by him, of your own volition. You were joking with him, laughing with him, teasing him. And you'd given him nickname, even if it was his real name. "It'll be our own little secret."

And he's not really sure why, but the idea of having his own personal secret with you left a strange, warm fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. The feeling wasn't familiar to him. And there was a big part of him that was terrified of it. An even bigger part that relished in it.

The rational side of him knew that a few conversations and laughs didn't mean anything. Steve had told him, you were here because Sam was here.

You were just being nice.

And he was seeing things that weren't there.

Weeks had passed since the battle was won. There was no morning glory. There was no air of victorious excitement. It was quiet. Weeks of intense contemplation.

And yet, Bucky watched you hold your head high. You never let anyone see you waver. It was always the moments that he catches you off guard when he realizes you're as hurt as anyone else. Of course you are, he scolds himself. You just lost so many friends after being gone for five years.

In the days since the battle, a sort of comfort settled between the two of you. You were so honest with him.

You tell him about your own struggles. About yourself. You tell him story after story. You hold out your hand to him and he's more than happy to take it. Every night, he finds you up. Wandering the cabin like him. After everyone else has gone to bed. You two shared hushed laughter, whispered tales, and you share so much. With him. With him of all people.

He still can't figure out why. He doesn't know why you trust him when no one else does. You have no qualms of resting your head on his shoulder, of holding his hand.

It's too much and not enough all at once.

And now, it was finally the day that this nightmare of a chapter would finally close. Steve would put back the stones and it would all be over.

He watches you for a moment. You sit on the porch landing. On the second to last step, holding a bright yellow sunflower in hand. You sit there pensively picking flower petals off the stem as you all await Steve.

He's never the first to approach you, he's never the first to approach anyone anymore. He does so hesitantly, careful to show you that he means no harm. "You okay?"

Your eyes flick up to him and with a warm half smile, you shrug, "Define okay."

He chortles, taking a seat beside you. "Guess that's fair."

"I'm fine," you assure him. "Just a lot to process, you know?"

He's heard you tell stories about them both. Before everything went to hell, you all sounded close, like a family. "I'm sorry about Natasha and Tony."

"Just wish I could've apologized," you remorsefully admit. "Or at least said goodbye."

"Yeah," he sighs, knowing there's nothing that he can say to take that pain away.

You shrug, trying to let the grief that now clings to your skin like tar just roll off your back. Normally, you could pretend, but pretending felt so hard, so much harder than you ever could've prepared for. "Now, we just move forward. Live life to the fullest, that kinda thing."

"Gotta recoup those five years?" Bucky snickers.

You snap your fingers, pointing at him, "Exactly!"

"So what are your big plans?"

You point at him again, this time with a pursed, but genuine, smile. "I haven't gotten that far yet."

A laugh bubbles out of his mouth. "Just let me know when you do find out."

"I will." The silence remains for a moment. Though the grief is suffocating, you find a lightness beside Bucky. Every night, sleep evaded, you wander the cabin halls in hopes of finding him, in hopes of feeling the lightness once more. And every night, without fail, he's there. Sometimes, he hardly says anything. Some nights, it's only wordless nods, but he's always listening. There's something so incredibly comforting in his presence, something that feels like coming home for the first time ever. It feels like you can breathe again. He makes it all bearable. "What about you? Any big plans?"

"Honestly? I'm trying not to think about it too much."

"I think something good has to come from all of this," you meekly offer. "We turn the bad into something good."

It was the only solace you could find. Something good had to come from the blood spilt, from the lives lost. Something good would come of it. A new beginning, living your life to honor those fallen.

Something.

Anything.

He snorts, rolling his eyes, "And how do you suppose that?"

"Well, after all of that, it has to be for something. Some greater good. Some grand scheme."

"And if it's not?"

"I refuse to accept that," you confidently declare. "Something good has to come from everything. We just don't know what that good is. Just because we can't see it doesn't mean it's not there."

He opens his mouth to refute you, but decides against. He finds that he doesn't really want to be the reason you can't or won't see good in the world. Though he can barely admit it to himself, he finds himself enamored with your sweet disposition and wide eyed gaze. "Whatever you have to tell yourself."

You nod appreciatively. "Thank you."

He nudges his chin toward the flower in your hand. "So what's the verdict? Loves or loves not?"

You take a large gulp of air, a chuckle leaving as you exhale. You knew the game he was talking about. You're pretty sure you saw it in a movie once. You weren't playing a game of loves or loves not, but you find it incredibly endearing that he thinks you were."I was actually just killing time because I don't know how to work my new phone, but I think it's really sweet that there's a hopeless romantic beneath all that brooding."

"What will it take for you to forget that I said that?" he jokingly bargains.

"Oh, no, I can't just forget that. I knew it," you tease, nudging your shoulder against his. "I knew there was a softie deep down inside."

"Ha," he sarcastically chuckles.

"Deep, deep, deep, deep down, I knew it. One big teddy bear. Called it!"

"No."

"Yes!" you laugh, poking his shoulder with the stem of the flower.

"No."

"Yes!" you boisterously laugh, about to run the remaining petals of the flower over his cheek.

In one deft movement, he reaches over to take the bare stem from your hand. You move your hand further away, trying to pull it out of his reach. His hand successfully catches yours. You both look up, and in that same movement, he ends up mere centimeters away from your face.

The humor instantly drains from the movement.

And all you can focus on is how close he is to you. You can feel his breath dusting across your face.

Against all his better judgement, he moves forward. Out of focus, eye-to-eye, it's almost like the gravity is too much and it's propelling him forward.

At the incremental movement, the anticipation becomes too much and you take small intake of breath.

The moment your breath hitches, it's like Bucky is snapped out of his daze. He abruptly pulls away, clearing his throat, "We should - we should get back."

It feels like ice-cold water has been poured over whatever spark you thought was there.

You try to ignore the sting of his rejection, instead reminding yourself that it shouldn't even matter in comparison to everything else happening. You swallow all of the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you, slightly nodding your head and jutting your thumb towards the cabin. "Yeah, Sam's probably looking for me."

He briskly stands up, letting the flower along with its remaining petals fall to the ground. You look at the flower on the ground, its petals mangled, stem snapped, trampled beneath his feet like nothing.

And he walks away without a word. He leaves you there, wondering what you did wrong, wondering why you were so easy to leave behind.

He just leaves you out there, standing crestfallen on the landing.

"What do you mean you it's not working? Bring him back!" Sam frantically demands.

"I'm trying!" Bruce insists, his hands smashing over buttons as he tries to figure out how to bring back Steve.

"Guys," you softly call, nudging your head over to the man suddenly sitting at the edge of the lake. "Look. Is that-?"

Sam takes a step forward, craning his neck to get a better look at the unfamiliar man. "Steve?"

Sam's the first one to regain the ability to react. Though he moves slow with a pit of lead now sitting in his stomach, Sam slowly inches his way over to the bench where Steve sits.

While he walks over, you remain standing by Bucky.

You find yourself reaching for Bucky's hand, lightly squeezing it while he watches Sam finally reach Steve. "Are you okay?"

He takes a moment to relish in the warmth of your fingers radiating throughout his entire hand. All from one simple, fleeting touch. For the singular moment he allows you to hold his hand, you feel a glimmer of hope that maybe he wasn't leaving you behind. Before you can breathe your sigh of relief, he tugs his hand back, indifferently muttering, "Fine."

"Listen," you hesitantly start, feeling dread wash over you all over again. "About earlier-"

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing."

If you didn't know any better, you would have sworn that you could feel your stitched up heart being torn to shreds. You softly exhale, "What?"

He kept his eyes on the lake in front of the two of you, but even from his peripheral he could say your face slowly drop. He steels his resolve, telling himself that he's just seeing what he wants to see. It's not what it looks like. Your heart isn't shattering right before his very eyes. The words taste bitter, but he's used to bitter. He's used to hard truths and crushing fates. And he wasn't willing to drag you down with him. "It was nothing."

He can't pretend he doesn't hear the small sharp inhale that leaves your mouth. You clear your throat, pulling on a smile a moment later. "Right. Just wanted to make sure we were okay.... Are we?"

"Well, I'm fine," he curtly states.

He knows you'll hear the absence of the 'we'.

"Listen, James, if this is about earlier, I'm - I'm sorry, I just, I-" you start, fumbling for the right words to keep him from leaving you. You're not sure you could take it. You're not ready to utter yet another goodbye. The words clumsily fall out of your mouth as you desperately try to figure out how to fix it, "You just - you mean a lot-"

"I already told you to drop it, alright? It meant nothing," he spits, more harshly than he intended. "I don't know what you think, but I'm not your charity case, so go bother someone else."

He's not even sure where the words came from, how they poured out of him without pause, but they do. Each syllable is pointed, clear and concise, there's no mistaking what he said.

And from the gut-wrenching look on your face, there's no taking it back.

You sharply inhale like he's just punched you in the gut. Your mouth immediately snaps shut, your lips press together to hide the wince of pain that tries to form on your face.

He wants to tell you that he's sorry. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for his casually cruel words. Sorry for leaving. He reminds himself that you deserve better than someone who can put that look on your face.

From your peripheral, you see Sam make his way back to where the two of you stand. In a choked whisper, you murmur, "I should go talk to Steve."

He nods wordlessly as you start making your way to the older man.

As you start walking, you take several deep breaths to calm your fracturing heart.

You're good at playing pretend, pretending like your heart had been shattered, like almost everyone in your life hadn't just left you behind. The mask is almost too easy to slip on.

“Steve?” you ask, hesitantly broach the much older man with features so much similar to your friend.

You know it's just denial, but you don't want to believe that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you. His gray hair and weathered face taking place of the friend that stood before you only minutes ago.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he warmly greets, a kind smile on his face.

“Wow, even after all that the nickname sticks,” you halfheartedly chuckle.

“Yeah, guess it does.”

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" you joke. Steve chuckles, shaking his head. You reach out for his hand, gently squeezing it. He finally meets your gaze, and you can feel another fracture in your heart when his distinct blue eyes find yours. It confirms that it's Steve. It's really him, and now it was time to say goodbye. Time to mourn another friend. Time for another person to leave you. It's not fair, you tell yourself, your friends have no obligation to you, no obligation to stay. Just because you couldn't move on didn't mean that everyone else couldn't get a chance to. You swallow the bitter sorrow that rises in your throat like bile, asking a simple question, “Are you happy?”

He definitively nods, staring wistfully out to the lake before you. “I am.”

You sharply inhale and then slowly exhale, “Then that’s all that matters to me.”

Steve nudges his head in the direction of the two men standing several yards away from you. “He likes you, you know?”

No, he doesn't, you internally tell yourself. Instead, you shake your head, a light snicker leaving your mouth as you try to keep the tears at bay. “Once a meddler, always a meddler.”

“It’s true. Bucky’s a little-“

“Grumpy?” you supply.

Steve chuckles,“He's rough around the edges, but he’s a good man. You two have a lot in common. Two sides of the same coin.”

"That was corny," you easily quip.

"It comes with the old age," Steve retorts.

"Any other wise words of wisdom?" you ask, hoping he'll tell you how you can past all this loss.

You wonder if he'll finally tell you how he does it - how he did it.

"You deserve it."

"What?"

"You deserve it," he repeats. "Peace."

"Okay, you lost me a little bit."

He shrugs. "There's more to life than the next fight. And people have a hard time accepting what they don't think they deserve, but you do. That and so much more."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Something like that," he cryptically offers.

You shakily inhale, preparing yourself for your next goodbye. You wish you would've known. You wish you could've planned what to say, so you wouldn't miss a single thing. You want to reminisce with him, for him to tell you what to do, for the answer of how you continue on like this. More than anything, you want to thank him, to tell him that he'd left a permanent mark on you. Instead of saying all of that, you rest your head on his shoulder, something you'd done so many times. The only difference is that you're so viscerally aware this time will be the last. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Me too.”

Only allowing yourself the a short moment of tears silently trickling down your face, you stand and say your final goodbye. You wipe the tears before you walk about to where Sam and Bucky stand.

And when you finally find the strength to finally walk away, your eyes instinctively find Bucky, only for the heartbreaking reminder to settle back in. You quickly divert your eyes, staring at the grass beneath your feet as you rejoin them.

You offer a small, tight lipped smile to the two of them.

"You okay?" Sam asks when you remain silent.

"Yeah," you nod, your eyebrows furrowed as the three of you stand amongst the shattered remnants of your family. "I'm fine."

The silence lasts for a long while. It was a terrifying thought, breaking that silence as the three of your stared out at the water before you, terrified of whatever came next.

None of you knew how right you were.

After the three of you parted ways, the silence never ceased. And the two of you sat in silence, Sam only broke it as you both climbed into his car. The question was innocuous, but loaded with so many unknowns, "So now what?"

"I have no idea," you slowly exhale.

You both decided to start at the Compound. You already knew it was mostly destroyed, but a big part of you wanted to believe that something had to have survived the battle. And maybe that was just foolish, naive hope, but you pulled up to the Compound in Sam's car with a heart full of hope.

It was stupid in the grand scheme of things. You knew it was. It still didn’t make it hurt any less.

The place you called home.

The magnificent and awe-inspiring Avengers Compound. Reduced to rubble.

Still, you stumbled through the ash, debris, and searched with a bright smile and your head held high.

Most was unidentifiable. But from what you could identify, you were able to find your old room. And it hurts even more.

The room painstakingly decorated with Nat and Wanda. Days the three of you spent laughing, teasing each other, all reduced to nothing. The bookshelf Steve and Sam helped you find and set up for you. CDs and records you collected from all around New York.

All gone.

Though you felt the stinging sensation of tears building in your eyes, you shook them away as though it could shake away the pain of the last few days. Or years - that would probably be more accurate.

You told yourself that it didn't matter that everything you'd ever owned was now gone. It didn't matter that you went from nothing after being rescued to a room full of cherished possessions... back to nothing. All lost in one fell swoop. It didn't matter that you were once again dropped in a society that looked completely unfamiliar.

You were on the outside. Thanos defeated. Sam was alive. Bucky was alive. And maybe your family was no longer intact, but you still had something, a good starting point.

So you and Sam decided to lay low for a few days to collect your bearings.

You didn't know that things were about to go from bad to worse.

“Technically, it’s SHIELD housing, just off the books," Sam tells you, pulling up to a small cabin just a few miles away from the Compound. "But I figure we can lay low while we figure out our next move.”

You take solace in the way Sam speaks about you as a unit. Even though he's no longer responsible for you, he's standing by you. You walk up the steps with a heavy heart that's lightened by the people you still had in your life.

You open the side panel, clearly stating your full name to the little intercom device.

“Access denied," the monotone voice drolls.

“What?”

You shake off the startle, this time carefully speaking your name again.

“Access denied.”

"Maybe Tony put in one of his nicknames?" Sam offers, though you can tell he's grasping at straws.

"Why don't you try?"

"Sam Wilson," Sam pointedly states.

“Access granted.”

You sharply inhale, your shoulders stiffening.

"It's probably just a mistake, the stupid thing's been sitting here for five years untouched," Sam assures you. You half-heartedly nod, giving Sam a tight smile in response. He can't offer any other assurances because he simply doesn't have them. The whole thing is deeply unsettling to him too. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out."

There's no bags to set down as the two of you walk through the door together. Nothing to put away.

The cabin is old, everything covered in a thin layer of dust. You're about to ask Sam what the two of you should do when his eyes linger on a small room off to the side. You take a few steps to meet his eye-line, his eyes have settled on an old SHIELD computer tucked into the corner of the room.

"Sam," you warn.

What you didn't want to tell him, what you already knew, was something Sam would never accept. What he's refusing to accept.

It probably didn't even have anything to do with the Snap or being gone for five years, and had everything to do with forcing you back into submission. And more than anything, you just don't want to be proved right in this moment.

He unlocks the computer anyway. The computer casts a slight glow across the dim room, Sam is clearly nervous as he unlocks the computer with his own code and it's not long before you he's pulling up the old SHIELD database. You wait with bated breath as Sam enters his own name into the SHIELD database. There's no delay or complications as his file fills the screen.

"Just so we know it's working," he quietly explains.

You slowly exhale as he types your name with a painstaking hesitancy. What neither of you say is that you're both already certain you have the answer. All Sam was doing was confirming what you both already knew. He hits the enter button with a sharp jab of his finger.

And all that appears is a small error message: Personnel Not Found.

You sharply inhale.

Now, you’d never claim to be the smartest of the bunch, but you knew in the depths of your bones what this meant: you’d been erased.

And now, you were officially back at square one.

Sam's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't stop typing, trying dozens of combinations of your name. First name, last name. Last name, first name. Silly aliases that you'd made up while on the run. Typing the ID number SHIELD gave you.

None of it works.

The clicking sounds of Sam's typing become more frantic, more desperate as he refuses to accept what's happening to you.

You place your hand on his shoulder, prompting him to stop his typing. For the second time in one day, tears burn at your eyes. This time you don't keep them from falling.

Now, you were gone. A person who never would be and never was. It was a gut punch you never thought you'd have to feel again. Something you didn't think you'd ever lose again. And most of all, you don't want to do this to Sam again.

You remembered how hard he had to fight the last time, how much hell SHIELD put him through, and even worse was when SHIELD fell and no one knew what to do with you. But through all of that, at least you had yourself. And now they'd taken that from you too.

You decide in that moment that you can't put him through this again.

You squeeze his shoulder once. A silent apology to him for whatever comes next. "It's fine, Sam."

"No, it's not fine-"

You drop your hand from his shoulder. A melancholy settles over the room as you both come to the crushing conclusion that things really would never be the same. "Just leave it, Sam."

"But-"

"We'll figure out where we go from here tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agrees with a sharp nod.

You were the one that made sure tomorrow never came.

"I'm telling you, I'm going to do it," you promise, laughing as the two of you sit on his sister's porch.

"But why?" Sam laughs, standing up in a huff to re-activate the motion lights.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be encouraging you, there's a pretty big part of him that thinks it's absolutely hilarious too. People just wouldn't stop with the questions about Steve Rogers. They wouldn't accept what was without some grand tale or some dramatic retelling. And as people who both knew Steve, it was emotionally draining.

"Why not?" you counter. "Maybe they'll finally leave us alone about it. Think about it: Steve Rogers is really living underground, protecting us from the mole people."

"Mole people?" Sam sputters out laughing as the timed light turns off again.

"Or- Or!" you bounce up off the stairs with unbridled excitement. "We could tell people he's on the Moon!"

The lights turn back on, but you still remain standing with your drink sloshing around in your hand. He tries to maintain his voice of a reason tone, but he finds himself smiling at his friend dramatically gesturing as you tell him all about the intricate stories you'll make up about Steve. "Who would believe that?"

"Who wouldn't? An alien literally wiped out half the planet five years ago. And then we just show back up!" you exclaim, half your drink spilling onto the grass as you wave your arms around, gesturing to the world around you. "The world's a crazy place!"

"The Moon," Sam repeats, rolling his eyes with another laugh.

"Sam? You busy?" you meekly ask, shuffling into the kitchen.

"Mhh..." he hums, rummaging through one of the kitchen cabinets. "Just looking for this old family recipe. My mom made the best Christmas cookies, and I know she had the recipe around here somewhere. What's up?"

You dismissively wave your hand. "No, you're busy. We can talk later."

"No, no, it's fine. Come on, what's going on?"

"I think..." You have to stop to swallow the lump in your throat, mustering all your courage and nerve to say the words that you know will irrevocably change your friendship with Sam. But it's for the best, you tell yourself, Sam will be better off. "I think I have to go."

"I already told you, we can go Christmas shopping later. It's not a big deal, tons of people do their shopping last minute. No one can tell the difference."

"No, Sam," you object, this time a little more forcefully insistent. Simply at your tone, his head jolts upward, the smile falling from his face morphing into a concerned and confused expression. "I think I need to leave."

"Leave?" he echoes. "Leave where?"

"I need answers, Sam. Real answers."

"Well, hold on a minute, I'll go with you! We can go right after the holidays. The both of us-"

"No, no," you interrupt him. "Don't do that. Sarah, AJ, and Cass, you can't just leave them. You just came back."

"We both just came back," he corrects. "But you were so excited about the holidays, and now you want to take off? I don't- I don't get it. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Sam, I just - I have to do this. Besides, I already talked to Joaquin, and he's not going home for the holidays this year, so he said he'd help me."

His back straightens, no longer leaning against the counter. Logically, he knew the sense of betrayal lodged in his throat was irrational. After all, you were talking to him about it. But it hurts, it stings, knowing that you went to someone else for help instead of him. It aches that you've suddenly decided to leave without him, to leave him entirely. This throat tightens from the emotional whiplash and the faint ache of what feels like a betrayal. "You talked to Torres before you talked to me?"

"Yeah," you exhale, your eyes downcast. "I did."

That night was a quiet one. The Christmas music that previously filled the house was more faint, the twinkling lights more dim.

You left your bedroom door open as you carefully folded each of the few articles of clothing you still owned. The open door taunted Sam, partly a silent plea for him to talk to you, partly a painful reminder of the friend he was about to lose if he didn't give you your space.

The quiet bled into the drive to the airport the very next day. For the first time in your entire friendship, neither of you knew what to say. The silence felt suffocating, crushing.

A breath remained in the back of his throat, ready to voice unspoken words at a moment's notice.

From the driver's seat, he could see the furrow in your eyebrows, the tension you carried in your shoulders, telling him you had your own unspoken words that you desperately wanted to voice.

Neither of you did.

It was only when he drove up to the terminal that the heaviness subsided enough to sustain spoken words.

"Promise me you'll be careful. Recon only. You know-" he starts, feeling the desperate urge to remind you what dangers lurk around the corner.

The worries echoing in his head are almost enough to get him to ask you to stay. He doesn't.

"I know, I know. I promise I'll be careful."

He wants to offer to go with you, to tell you that you don't have to do this alone. Instead, he pulls your duffle bag from the trunk of his car. He extends it out to you, but pulls it out of your reach to give him the chance to issue another promise, "And you'll call me? Keep me posted?"

"I'll call," you repeat, carefully avoiding the word 'promise'.

His throat starts tightening, the goodbye hitting him like a ton of bricks. "If you need anything, anything..."

You weakly smile to keep your bottom lip from quivering, "I know."

He throws his arms around you. You allow your small duffle bag to hit the floor as you wrap your arms around him, "I'm going to miss you."

"Miss you too," you mumble into his shoulder.

The Twin Flame Chapter List The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe Bucky Barnes Masterlist

And finally, dear readers, this story comes to a close. Thank you guys so much, I love you all. 💛

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