#(and woke up locked in a cell hearing that same friend she could SWEAR just died yelling out her name from somewhere else in the dungeon)

[somelazyassartist]

Some assorted doodles I did of Hallows from session 2 of the Infinite Dungeon campaign, currently working on some session 3 doodles lol. There WILL be more bc we are hopefully having session 4 tomorrow and I am very very very very excited bc last time was SO much fun!!! (Also not sure how comfy my other party members are with me posting their characters so I'm sticking with the Hallows only ones for now just in case lol!!)

[angryinternetduck]

Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

“Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

[soniaxdixon]

New Girl

Okay so I actually started writing this one based off of a prompt but got way to invested so ended up turning into a one shot.

Words count: 2470

Summary: Reader has been in love with Daryl from the beginning but never told him so when he comes back to the prison injured and with a new girl by his side, her heart shatters.

Warnings: Swearing, some gore, angst and fluff.

You paced the gates of the prison, impaling the heads of walkers that stalked the living on the inside. Worry swelled in the pits of your stomach as you waited for the familiar sound of his bike, but they didn’t come.

You made your way up to the prison for dinner, grabbing a bowl from Carol and sitting next to Rick.

“He’s not back yet?” Worry obviously etched his face too.

“No. Rick it’s almost been a week. He’s never gone this long.”

“If he’s not back by tomorrow we’ll head out and find him, okay?”

“Okay.”

Seconds later the doors busted open, Glenn ran in. “Where’s Hershel? We need Hershel!” Both you and Rick shot up from your seats and ran over to Glenn.

“I’ll go get him.” Rick ran off in search of the old man

“What’s happening?” You searched Glenn’s face for a sign of anything, he looked into your eyes.

“It’s Daryl.”

“Where is he?”

“Infirmary.”

The pit in your stomach grew as you pushed passed Glenn and ran towards the infirmary. Your stomach dropped when you saw him laying still on the table, blood soaked beneath him, dripping down onto the floor.

“Oh my God.” Your voice was barely audible. Your feet felt cemented to the ground, you couldn’t move.

“Excuse me.” A girl pushed passed you, sitting next to Daryl’s bed and grabbed his hand.

“Who are you?” You found your voice and walked to stand next to Daryl on the opposite side. You ran your hand threw his hair and the girl shot you a look that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’m Bella. Daryl found me a few days back.”

Your eyes were locked where she held his hand and your heart felt like it was being squeezed. You took a step back from his body.

Rick and Glenn suddenly burst into the room with Hershel following behind them

“What happened?” Rick’s voice was barely below yelling, obviously panicking as his best friend laid still on the table.

“He found me in the woods, saved me from a group of walkers. We found a cabin and he took care of me there for a few days.” She looked at you suddenly, “nursed me back to health, kept me warm.” Your brain was frazzled as you tried to piece together what she was saying. “When I felt better we started to make our way back here but we were pinned by another herd. A few pushed Daryl up against a wall and he was impaled on a pipe. I found a car and got us here as quickly as possible. Please tell me you can save him.”

“I can.” Hershel was examining Daryl’s body while she spoke. “But I need space. Rick, Glenn, you stay, y/n, take Bella to get a plate of food, she seems quite shaken.”

You glanced at Daryl one more time before guiding the new girl out of the room and towards the kitchen.

You suddenly spoke “Where’s his bike?”

“What?”

“His bike, where is it?”

“Oh, um, I guess it’s still back at the cabin.”

You went up to your cell and shuffled through your things, pulling out a map and a marker and walking back towards Bella.

“Show me where it is. Can I walk there?”

She looked at you in disbelief. “It’s just a bike.”

“Just show me where.” Your tone was harsh. You didn’t understand why but you grew frustrated with her very quickly, like your fuse was cut short and the slightest thing she did would set you off.

She grabbed the marker from your hand and circled a space in the woods about 5 miles out.

You grabbed the map and marker from her and walked over to Carol. “This is Bella, she needs something to eat.” You stormed up the prison stairs and pulled the curtain over your cell as you packed your bag for your trip the next day.

The next morning, you woke early and got dressed quickly. You scurried down the stairs with your bag on your back. You walked hastily over to the infirmary slowing your pace as you got closer, walking in quietly. His breathing had steadied and you sat next to him for a few minutes.

“Daryl. It’s y/n. I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m gonna talk anyway.” You searched his face for any signs that he was listening but he showed none.  “I was so worried about you, I thought I was going to lose you and I think that made me realise that I care about you a lot more than I thought I did. Daryl please be okay. I need you to wake up. I need you to know how much I lo-”

You heard someone coming towards the infirmary and you stood up suddenly from your seat, wiping the tears you didn’t realise had fallen and placing the most gentle kiss on Daryl’s forehead. As you went to walk away you saw the figure who was walking into the infirmary. Bella squeezed past you without saying a word, sitting in the seat you were in just moments ago and entangling her fingers with Daryl’s. The sight sent you into overdrive as you stormed away, down towards the gates of the prison. Maggie was on watch as you walked down towards her.

“Hey, where are you going?” She stepped in front of you.

“To find Daryl’s bike.”

“Alone?”

“I’ll be fine, that girl Bella circled where they stayed and it's only about 5 miles out.”

“Show me, just so I know where to find you if you’re not back soon.”

You pulled out the map and showed Maggie. She pulled you into a hug, releasing you soon after and opening the gate. Your hand remained fixed on your knife as you began your trek towards the cabin. It took you a couple of hours but you found the place she had circled. You made your way inside, scouting the place for anything you could take home. Daryl’s crossbow laid on the table, you swung it over your shoulder as you thought about the time he had taught you to use it.

——

“Okay now put your foot here to hold the bow down and pull the string back. Put the bolt here and-”

“Daryl, I got it. I know what to do.”

“Yeah alright Hawkeye, show me what ya got.”

You aimed the crossbow at the makeshift target that Daryl had set up, you took a deep breath and readied yourself for the kickback. You squeezed the trigger as the bolt flew threw the air and pierced the centre of the target.  “Oh my God, did you see that!?” You jumped for joy before placing the crossbow on the floor and running to stand next to the target. Pointing at it with the look of awe on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I saw it. It’s cause ya had a good teacher.” He said, walking over to the target and pulling the bolt out. “Do it 1000 more times, then I’ll trust ya with my crossbow.”

You could see the visible smirk on his face. “Next you have to teach me how to ride your bike.”

——

You smiled at the memory, it felt like a lifetime ago. You secured the crossbow on your shoulder as you continued to search the house, scooping everything you needed into your bag before walking out the front door and looking for Daryl’s bike. You found where he had leaned it near the side of the house. You swung your right leg over and pulled it into the upright position. Gripping the right hand brake you kicked up the stand and started the engine. Rolling it forwards a bit until you were steady enough to begin riding, just like Daryl had taught you.

Maggie heard the bike as she ran down to the gate. “She’s back!” She yelled out to the rest of your group. Everyone started walking down to greet you, including Daryl who had managed to wake up and stand. Bella gripped tightly to his arm. The sight of you on his bike sent his mind whirling. You were so beautiful. You rode through the gate and up a bit to where your group was standing. You turned the bike off and pushed the kick stand down, climbing off it as you locked eyes with Daryl.

“Thank god you’re okay.” You threw your arms around Daryl’s neck pulling him into a hug, he pulled his arm away from Bella and wrapped them both around you, gently but enough that you could feel him holding you. You pulled away suddenly and began searching his body. “What are you doing up, you should still be resting? Come on, get back to bed.”

“y/n I’m fine. When I woke up Rick came and told me that ya went to look for my bike.”

“I had to hold him down when he found out you had gone alone.” Rick said smiling at the two of you.

Daryl chuckled at the thought. “Bella calmed me down but when I heard Maggie yell out I had to come and see ya.”

He obviously hadn’t heard when you spoke to him this morning, but that could have been a good thing. “I was so worried about you, D.”

“Yeah well then you went and made me worry about ya.”

“I brought your bike back didn’t I, both me and the bike still in one piece clearly.” You motioned towards yourself and the bike.

“Thanks.”

“I know how much the bike means to you…Oh and I found this.” You pulled the crossbow off your shoulder and handed it to him but Bella reached out and pulled it over her shoulder.

“I’ll hold onto this until you’re better, you gotta teach me how to shoot it remember.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as your walls came crashing back down.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You spoke barely above a whisper and rolled your eyes. You pushed passed Bella making sure to bump her slightly on your way up to the prison. Rick chased after you, noticing your sudden mood change.

“y/n, y/n wait!”

You finally stopped when you got inside the main cell block. “What, Rick?”

“Are you okay? What was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned to face him.

“Your little outburst back there.”

“That was hardly an outburst, Rick.”

“Yeah well you seem pretty hostile towards Bella.”

“We don’t know a thing about her and now she’s sleeping under the same roof as us, already making plans for Daryl to teach her how to use the crossbow. Are you kidding me?”

“Daryl says he trusts her.”

“Yeah well I’m sure he does. I wonder how many times he’s fucked her already.”

“Y/n where the hell is this coming from!?”

“I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember Rick, and not once has he looked at me the way he looks at her and that hurts so much because I’m the one who constantly puts my life on the line for him. I’m the one who takes care of him when he’s hurt. I’m the one who knows how to stop his nightmares. I’m the one who loves him. Not her.” Tears were steadily flowing down your face as you finally broke eye contact with Rick.

“Tell him.”

“What?”

“Tell. Him. Because you know what. He doesn’t look at you that way, no, he has a look that is set aside specifically for you. It looks like he is seeing stars when he looks at you, like you are his entire world. That bracelet on your wrist, he almost got ripped apart for that bracelet but because it says your name, he refused to leave without it. The fact that he taught how to ride his bike, how many people does he let even touch the damn thing? His crossbow. Do you really think he’s gonna teach her how to use it. The second you stormed off he ripped it off her shoulder and walked away. You might think he likes her and who knows, maybe he does, but he loves you.”

You stood there frozen as Rick poured everything out into the open. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

With his confession playing over and over again in your head you raced outside the prison, into the yard where you last saw Daryl but he wasn’t there. You ran into the infirmary, he wasn’t there either. Your heart began to race as you looked everywhere for him, running in and out of the cell’s searching for any sign of him until you found him, sitting on your bed.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet.

“Daryl I-”

“Stop.” He stood up off the bed and walked over to you, he pushed away the hair that had fallen in front of your face in your frantic search to find him. “Ya know I’m not good with words, especially the way Rick is, but everything he said, is true.”

You struggled to grasp at the words that were fleeting from your mind.

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything.”

“Does that mean that you heard…”

“I heard everything. I followed you and Rick back up to the prison. I heard what you said. I went to find Bella to tell her that there was nothing between her and I and when I got back to the main cellblock, you had disappeared.”

“Daryl. I tried to tell you this morning, when you were still asleep.”

“I heard that too. I felt you kiss my forehead but I couldn’t move.”

“I was trying to tell you that…” You looked up into his eyes and placed your hand carefully on his chest, above his heart. Taking a deep breath in, you spoke. “Daryl Dixon, I love you.”

He leaned down and closed the space between the two of you, his lips pressed against yours as you melted together. Your hands wrapped around his neck pulling him in closer to you as his hands found your waist.

You finally pulled away slowly, your eyes opening and looking up into his. He looked down bashfully before speaking. “I love you too. Always have and I always will.”

You spent the rest of the day wrapped in each others arms, laying on the bed and talking about everything and anything. Rick came up into your cell to let you know that dinner was ready and at the sight of you entangled with Daryl he let out a hearty laugh.

“I was right, I was so right. You do love each other.”

You just smiled and nodded at him.

[babyangellee]

“Please Find Me”

Summary- The reader gets kidnapped and her captor exposes her relationship with Spencer to the team. They race to find her before it’s too late.

Warnings- Blood, stabbing, injury, possible swearing?, the usual criminal minds drama

Word Count- 2.3k 

[Part 2] [Part 3]

You danced around your kitchen while wiping down the counter. You were so into the music that you didn't hear your front door open and close. You didn't hear the slight squish of his boots on the hardwood as he slowly approached you. When you finally turned around you let out a small scream and dropped the cloth you were using.

"Jesus Danny! You scared me!" You yelled whacking your cousin's chest as you started to laugh.

"Sorry Y/N didn't mean to startle you" He replied slowly bending down to grab the cloth and then handing it to you.

"So how long are you in town for? I have to get into work soon but I'd love to get dinner or something when I get bac-'' You were cut off by something hard hitting the back of your head causing you to fall to the floor.

***

"Alright let's get started!" Garcia said enthusiastically while clapping her hand together.

"Wait, where's Y/L/N?" Hotch asked and everyone looked at each other realizing you weren't there.

"Maybe she's sick or slept in?" Spencer piped up, slightly confused himself. You guys had been dating for a while but only JJ knew about it. "I can give her a call to see what's up?"

"Let's brief first and then call her, tell her to meet at the police station," Hotch said and nodded to Garcia to continue.

"No need to take your Dramamine! This case is right in DC. Alright so in the last month four bodies have turned up. Allison Mark, Taylor McLaughlin, Jaime Hunt, and Kayla Johnson. All women in their late 20's were abducted from their homes, held for a week, and then killed." Garcia explained while going through the case on the screen behind her.

"This unsub definitely has a type, all the victims look like they could be sisters." She pointed out. She couldn't help but have a weird feeling about how eerily similar they looked to you. The same y/h/c and y/e/c, the same sparkle in their eye, and the same bright smile. She tried to shake the thought from her head as the rest of the team continued to go over the details.

"Alright. Prentiss and Rossi I want you to head to the ME, JJ, and Morgan I want you to go and pick up Y/L/N and then head to the dumpsite. Reid and I will head to the station." Hotch said picking up his case file and walking out of the conference room. Everyone nodded and split up heading to their SUV with their assigned partners.

Morgan and JJ had pulled up to your apartment and saw your car parked outside. They headed into the building and walked up the stairs to your apartment. You lived on the fourth floor but taking the stairs was faster than the elevator. When they approached your door Morgan knocked fairly loudly so that if you were sleeping hopefully it would wake you. After about 30 seconds and still no response JJ pulled out her phone dialing your number as Morgan knocked again.

Still, no response so JJ pulled out the emergency key you had given her about a year ago. Penelope and her were your closest friends on the team so along with Spencer, they both had a key in case of emergency. JJ deemed this an emergency.

She went to put the key in the lock but realized it was already unlocked. That was weird. You never left your door unlocked. The only people that ever needed to get in had keys. She gave Derek a concerned look as she pulled her gun from its holster. Morgan quickly followed her action as they opened your door.

"Y/N!" JJ called out walking into your bedroom as Derek made his way into your living room and then into the kitchen.

"JJ in here!" Derek yelled. JJ ran in seeing broken glass on the floor and your cell on the kitchen counter. As Morgan pulled out his phone to inform Hotch, JJ looked around more closely noticing a few drops of blood near the broken glass. You didn't leave without a struggle.

"Hotch, she's not here...... no, her car is but she isn't...... there looks like there was a struggle...... yea we're on the way." Morgan looked at JJ as he hung up the phone. "Another body just turned up. We just found this guy's pattern. And his latest victim."

JJ swallowed a lump in her throat that she didn't know was there. She nodded her head as she followed Morgan back to the car.

****

You woke up in a cold sweat not knowing where you were or how you got there. You quickly realized you were gagged and bound to a chair. You frantically tried to wriggle your hand free but they wouldn't budge. You looked around but there wasn't much to see. You were in a big open space. The floor and walls were concrete, you assumed you were in an abandoned building of some kind, maybe a warehouse.

Your head was pounding and you could feel the dried blood on the side of your face. You closed your eyes and tried to take a deep breath and remain as calm as possible, given the situation you were in. Just when you got your breathing in control you heard his voice and it sent chills down your spine.

"Good, you are finally awake! I was getting bored." He laughed. You looked at him absolutely terrified. How could he be doing this to you? You were his family. He just gave you a wicked smile before pulling out a camera. He placed it on a tripod and turned it on. You stared at the blinking red light drowning out what he was saying.

You only reacted when he took a knife dragging it across your cheek making you cry out in pain. He just laughed moving the knife to your arm before pushing down causing the cut to go deeper and you let out a muffled sob.

" I think that's enough of a message don't you?" He smiled again before taking the SIM card out of the camera and placing it in an envelope. He then handed you a sharpie and placed the paper under your hand. Forcing you to write the words FBI BAU TEAM on it so they couldn't analyze his handwriting.

Once you were done he took the envelope and the sharpie before leaving you alone again. He drove the hour-long distance to Quantico and walked up the building with a dark hoodie on. He knew it was kind of risky but if he got questioned he could definitely talk his way out of it. Once inside he handed the envelope to a security guard.

"I don't know man! I was across the street enjoying a nice iced coffee and when I went to get in my car I saw this on my windshield." He explained. The guard just nodded before making his way up to the sixth floor and handing it to one of the team members.

****

Your head slowly lolled to the side as your eyes fluttered closed. You were tired and in pain. You just wanted this to be over with. Just as you let slumber claim your body you were instantly awoken to the feeling of cold water being sprayed at you. You whimpered as the freezing water completely soaked your body making your teeth slightly chatter against the gag. The water turned off just as fast as it had been turned on and you saw Danny laughing holding a hose. He dropped it before making his way over to you. He slowly stroked your face and then retracted his hand.

"I think your friends might want to see this." He said walking away before reappearing with the camera, this time it was hooked up to a laptop and you knew he was going to live stream it. He set up the tripod and then turned around typing a few things into the computer and then stalking back over to you. Once he could tell the team was watching he started speaking.

" Ya know, I didn't really know how to feel when your mom told me you had a boyfriend." He started playing with a small knife in his hands. "She wouldn't shut up about him! She told me how you met up for lunch and told her you thought he was the one. Now when she said that, it struck a nerve. I've known you your whole life and never once were you ever serious about any guy but then all of a sudden you've had a boyfriend for four and a half years and are planning a future with him." He was starting to get angrier as he spoke and you knew Spencer and the team were hearing this.

"So it got me thinking. You always liked to brag and everything needed to be perfect with you. And after I looked him up it finally clicked. Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid. Or is it Doctor Spencer Reid. Who has three PhDs and two BAs? A child prodigy who went to high school at the age of twelve. You must have eaten that up." He laughed. He was trying to get under your skin and it was working. "He's just a fancy label to you. You don't love him for his personality, you love the attention you get from HIM being your boyfriend!"

"So tell me. How'd you do it? Huh? You were never interested in someone for longer than two months, how's you manage to fake four years?" He gave you a quizzical look before you saw a light bulb go off in his head. "Actually! Don't just tell me. Tell him." He pointed to the camera before stalking over to you and untying your gag.

"Don't listen to him, Spencer! I love you! Please find me!" You cried before you were silenced by the gag again. You had made him angry.

"You liar! You're lying to him! You bitch!" With that he took the knife in his hands, pushing it into your thigh. He twisted it and then pulled it out. You screamed in pain against the thick cloth material in your mouth. You looked down at the red liquid quickly oozing out of your leg as you continued to cry.

"Don't you get it! I loved you! I'm in love with you! What does he have that I don't!" He screamed as you started seeing spots. The pain radiating through your body. You started to struggle to keep your eyes open, your head dropping. As they started to flutter closed Danny aggressively grabbed your cheeks causing you to stare at him.

"I'm not done!" He yelled slapping you harshly before letting go of your face, your head immediately dropping again. He growled in irritation before walking back over to the hose spraying with the freezing cold water cause you to be on high alert.

"Now let's tell that boyfriend of yours the truth." He said coming up behind you and untying the gag again. This time held a knife against your shoulder. "Now tell him! Tell him you don't love him!"

You shook your head staying quiet. He pushed the knife into your shoulder with just enough pressure to break the skin, and you let out a soft whimper.

"SAY IT!" He yelled again causing you to flinch. You still stayed silent and he pushed the knife in all the way. You yelped at the pain finally giving in.

"I-I-I don't love you. I-I'm s-sorry" You cried out looking straight into the camera. Your heartfelt like breaking for saying those words. Danny, satisfied, pulled the knife out of your shoulder and walked around to the front of you. He bent down so he was face to face with you.

"I really hope he's still watching," He said quietly as he leaned in and kissed you. Danny slowly pulled away with rage in his eyes after about 20 seconds. "You didn't kiss back! Why did-" He was cut off but rustling outside of the warehouse. He stopped speaking and placed a hand over your already gagged mouth. When the rustling got closer he panicked and jabbed the knife into your stomach making you sharply inhale.

"FBI! DANIEL ANDERSON DON'T MOVE!" You sighed a breath of relief as you heard your friend and co-worker Derek Morgan's voice boom out. Danny went to plunge the knife into your body again before you heard a shot fired, the man in front of you falling to the floor. Knowing he was dead and you would be safe made your entire body relax.

"Hey, sweetheart" Morgan quickly walked over to you. Derek yelled into his radio for a medic once he saw your injuries. You started seeing spots again and felt weaker than ever before. You felt his hand reach up and gently grabbed your face so he could look at you. Your skin was paler than ever before and your lips had a bluish tint.

"JJ! Hurry!" He yelled behind you and you heard heels clicking over to you. Your eyes started to flutter closed again as you didn't have the strength to keep them open any longer. "Hey, hey, hey come on pretty girl keep those eyes open for me," Derek said hurriedly as JJ was untying the restraints that keep you in the chair. You tried your best but you just couldn't stay awake. The last thing you heard was Derek yelling into his radio again for the medics to hurry up.

[nev3rfound]

slither of optimism left : s.r

brief summary: along with bucky, after steve was presumed dead you were taken by hydra and made into their weapon. after seventy long years, you’re used in a mission to infiltrate a shield base, unaware of who exactly is inside

word count: 2.6k requested: yes by the very very patient @carinacassiopeiae - honestly you’ve waited so long for this, i really hope you like it  warnings: none that immediately come to mind, but if there are any do let me know

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’ /  permanent taglist

You had no idea what had happened after that man approached you. Pieces of the events that took place that night haunt your memories as you picture a man holding a knife, muttering words that made no sense to you then, but soon would become your entire life.

Before everything, you were a young girl with ambitions to work for a company upstate. You’d been well educated, as best you could for a woman and had it all planned out. But that was before the war, and before you lost two of your closest friends to it all.

To the world, they lost Captain America and members of the Howling Commandos. Yet you lost so much more than that, you lost Steve Rogers, your first and only love alongside your best friend, Bucky Barnes. The duo was always there for you, on hand to cheer you up whenever required. Bucky would always encourage you to say something to Steve, ensuring you the feeling was mutual.

It took a long time for you say anything to Steve about how you felt, but once your feelings were shared you never looked back as he returned a new man, one you adjusted to, but loved nonetheless.

They promised it would be one last mission and then they’d be home, and in truth, it was their last mission; just not in the way they anticipated it. 

*

“He, he can’t be.” You tremble as the words leave your lips with despair hanging from every syllable.

Lifting your eyes up, you see her red lips locked in a straight line as she nods, remaining silent. Men stand behind her in a line, holding their hats at their chests as their eyes avoid yours.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Peggy sits beside you, her hand resting on your upper arm. “He truly cared about you.” A smile ghosts Peggy's lips, remembering Steve’s last words before they lost connection to him.

“I, I never got the chance to say a real goodbye.” The realisation hits you in the chest, sending you back as your heart begins to numb. “He, he’s never coming home.” Tears fall from your eyes as you stare straight ahead, forgetting the presence of Peggy and the soldiers as your mind remains in an easier, simpler time. *

The meeting that took place with Peggy didn’t end as it should have. You were escorted from the building as you tried to hold your head high, stop the tears cascading down your cheeks. But you only made it a few feet from the doors before you felt a pair of hands cover your nose and mouth, seeing your eyes widen to the knife before they blurred.

When you first woke up, everything hurt. Never before had you felt the intense burning throughout your body like that. You’d often ran after Steve after pinching a loaf of bread and catching a ride back into town on the end of a truck, but that burn was filled with satisfaction. What you experienced initially was pure fire through your veins, itching to be released.

You had no idea what time it was, who had held you or where you were. The questions that plagued your mind weren’t answered for almost several days as you were starved inside of a cell, your left wrist chained to the wall.

Once you met the figure behind everything, the events that took place are faint in your mind, but the evidence lines your skin. You were taken, beaten, tortured for information on Captain America. *

“I told you,” You cry out. “I don’t know!” You scream as another blade is sliced across your thigh as you wish to curl up and hideaway, but the chains and ropes you’re attached to leave you fully exposed for their fun.

“You do know, Y/n.” A soldier tuts as he wipes the blood from his knife along his sleeve, the HYDRA logo never tainted in the process. “We will get the information from you, one way or another.” He tickles the knife along your temple, moving it away before it penetrates your skin with a sick laugh.

You’re released from the restraints and dragged back to your cell, left once more to suffer in silence along with those hidden behind the large doors that line the corridors you pass every time. *

Years of your life were lost to the restraints of HYDRA, even when you were put into cyro you could hear the things being discussed. You were stuck, without a way out.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was going to be another mission, alongside the infamous Winter Soldier you heard plenty about. Yet, despite his ranking, your paths had never crossed.

The doors to your room were opened and three men walked in. “Miss.” The man with the green eyes nodded, and you swiftly followed behind him in silence.

You were led down various corridors you knew hid their experiments, many having been performed on you. “Here,” Green eyes motions to a large wooden door with the HYDRA symbol etched into the oak. “he’ll be in there, waiting for you.”

Without having a chance to question who, the doors are opened for you. Someone pushes you inside and shuts the doors before you’re able to process.

“So, you’re her?” The hairs on the back of your neck rise as you mutter nonsense under your breath. “We can’t stay here, we’re needed on the jet.” He instructs, not caring about you keeping your back turned to him.

Slowly, you turn around and catch a glimpse of their Winter Soldier, your oldest friend, Bucky Barnes.

You sat in silence on the jet as you listened to the plan in question. No one was to survive on the opposing side, SHIELD was too much of a threat to spare anyone involved.

Occasionally, you glanced over at Bucky, but he wasn’t the same. You heard the stories of what HYDRA did to him, but knowing it’s him breaks your heart all over again.

“Stop staring.” He tells you bluntly, ignoring your quiet apology before looking up at you. As Bucky focuses on you, something inside of him is screaming out. “Do, do I know you?” He asks as the soldiers remain out of earshot, and he watches as you lift your head up quickly.

“A long time ago, yes.” You mutter. “Do you know who you are?”

A glimmer of hope fades from your gaze as he shakes his head, hiding himself away once more as the soldiers return with the weapons of choice.

“You don’t get out much, do you?” Bucky questions, still keeping his gaze averted from yours.

You knew you shouldn’t be talking to him, not this version of him in this situation. HYDRA kept a close eye on him, and entail, a close eye on you. “Is it that obvious?” You try to joke, but it feels disingenuous. “They mostly keep me asleep.” You mutter, focusing your attention on your gun as you place it into your holster.

“It gets easier with time.” Bucky mumbles as he rises to his feet, you following suit as the barriers descend, revealing a man in a black suit before you both.

“Soldiers.” He nods curtly to the pair of you, a title you’ll never fully adjust to. “All we need you to do is get intel and leave, do not engage with that inside of the SHIELD base. Is that understood?” His eyes fixate on you, the cold green sends a shiver through your spine.

“Understood.” You respond whilst Bucky simply nods, taking out his gun as he walks ahead without you.

“Watch him closely, we don’t want to lose another soldier, Y/n.” The man comments as you walk past, ignoring the cold smirk across his lips as his eyes follow you.

Following closely behind Bucky, he stands beside a tall window. “Get up.” He holds his hands out, but you flinch away. “I won’t hurt you.” He mutters, his eyes on yours and you swear you can almost see a glimpse of Bucky, your Bucky.

“Okay.” You whisper, forcing back every image of the guards grabbing you, the Doctors experimenting on you, torturing you and throwing you aside like dirt.

Bucky hoists you up and you silently climb through the window, disabling the alarm whilst Bucky finds another route in. Cover as much ground as possible, but leave together- that was a requirement, not an option.

Looking around, all you can see are tall grey walls, some painted with numbers as the evening lights illuminate the flooring. “I’m on the 3rd floor, soldier.” You mutter through your comms unit, but Bucky doesn’t respond. “Soldier?” You repeat yourself, only hearing static.

As you turn the corner, you see three armed guards in front of a large metal door. They’re all engaged in conversation, making for the perfect and easiest of targets.

Sliding across one of your tasers, you take a step back as you press the button linked to it as it fires up at the three of them. “Oops.” You mumble as you step over their unconscious bodies, facing the door in question.

It didn’t take you long to override the system, but as you do a series of alarms begin to blare.

“Soldier, what’s your status?” Bucky barks through the comms as you push the door open, immediately seeing files upon files stored.

“I’ve found some files, I’ll gather what I can.” You tell him as you begin to rifle through documents, seeing what exactly could be of use to HYDRA and what is worthless.

Flicking through one file, you glance back into a filing cabinet, filled to the brim. Unable to stop your intrigue, you pull out the file seeing it labelled as ‘Captain America.’

You can feel your heart in your throat as you open it up, seeing a picture of your Steve, the Steve you’ll never forget, no matter how many times you’re brainwashed by HYDRA. Steve was someone locked into your mind, unable to be erased.

“If you wanted to know more about me, just gotta ask.” You tense up as a voice interrupts your thoughts.

Keeping your back turned, you reach for your gun hidden inside of your suit before turning around and aiming it at the man in question.

But as you turn, you lower it from the man's face. “Steve?” Your voice can barely be heard above a whisper as you focus on him. “No, no you, you’re dead.” You tell yourself, more than him as you raise your gun, trying to hide your shaking hands in front of the imposter.

“It can’t be,” Steve speaks up, stepping closer as his shield remains in hand. “I was told you were gone, presumed dead. Y/n, I, it’s me.” He tells you, feeling his heart thudding against his chest at an alarming speed, even for him.

Unable to hold back a short laugh, you smile. “Well, looks like we both got it wrong, Stevie.” You comment. “I, I don’t want to hurt you,” You focus on his eyes, how many nights were spent in his arms looking up at them. “so please, let me leave.” You clear your throat, holding your gun back into position.

“Wait, Y/n, no.” Steve tries to move closer, but you take off the safety. “Are you, are you with them?” You can’t ignore the disgust in his tone or the horror in his eyes as you nod.

“I have no choice, Stevie.” You tell him as tears line your eyes.

“Soldier, mission status?” Bucky chimes in through your comms, and you let out a small gasp.

“They have me, Steve. But, they’ve also got Bucky.” You try to explain. “I know it all sounds insane, but we can’t leave here without information. If, if we don’t come back, they’ll hunt us down.” You plead with Steve, something you didn’t imagine ever having to do.

Steve shakes his head as he reaches out. “I can’t lose you, not when I just got you back.”

“You have to let me go, Steve.” You can’t stop the tears from falling as you fire your gun behind him, shooting a guard as he falls to the ground. “I’m sorry.” You whisper before releasing another enhanced taser, watching as it encaptures him and his shield falls to the ground. “I’ll always love you, Steve.” You hand glides across his cheek as he tries to fight the restraints, but it’s no use.

“Soldier, mission status!” Bucky yells as you grab the files on Captain America, firing at guards and dodging bullets before finding an exit.

“I’m out. Where are you?!” You’re screaming to Bucky as you see your ride out of here insight.

As you run you can feel yourself being weighed down. Not physically, but emotionally. All you can picture is the look of betrayal on Steve’s face, your Stevie after all this time.

“I’m on the jet.” Bucky tells you and you let out a sigh of relief, seeing a figure waiting for you.

But no sooner does the figure raise an arm, it’s encapsulated by an explosion, knocking you back.

“NO!” You scream, looking up at the flames, oblivious to a pair of arms grabbing you, all you can hear are your cries for Bucky as your ears ring senselessly. “Bucky!” You cry out, coughing violently as you look above you, seeing blonde hair covering his forehead.

“You’ll be okay, Y/n.” You listen to his faint voice but focus on his eyes. “We’ll keep you safe.”

*

“So, she’s an old friend, huh?” A voice questions with a light laugh, one unknown to you as you begin to come round.

As you begin to open your eyes, a hand rests on your shoulder, but you’re too weak to fight it off. “Hey, you’re okay. Just, take it easy.” Steve mutters, still trying to comprehend how you’re even here.

Steve watches as your eyes dart around the room, scoping out every possible exit. “B,Bucky?” You stutter, looking up at Steve as you remain tied down to a hospital bed.

Your eyes glance over to another man who lowers his head. “We couldn’t find his body.” Steve tells you, and all you can do is nod, hoping that he might be out there somewhere, away from HYDRA.

“What’re you going to do with me?” You question bluntly, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the pain searing across your forehead.

“How’d you feel about working for us?” The stranger asks you. “I’m Sam.”

“Is this a joke?” You scoff, but as Steve mutters your name, you sigh. “You’re not joking.”

“Y/n, you’ve been under HYDRA’s control for almost seventy years. We know snippets of your history, what happened in there. But, but we want to help you, I, I want to help you.” Steve explains, his fingertips brushing across your cheek.

“They’ll kill me.” You comment, moving your head to remove Steve’s soft touch you once loved. “I’m not the same Y/n, Steve.”

“And I’m not the same Steve, Y/n.” He retorts. “Just, let us help you. If you’re not comfortable, you can go. We can help you start again.”

Focusing on Steve, you can still see the boy who refused to back down from a fight in the alleys of Brooklyn. There’s still something in there that reminds you of home, of what once was. Maybe there’s hope for you, that you can have a fresh start, that you won’t have to return to the restraints of HYDRA.

“Okay, Stevie.” You nod to him, smiling up to him as your hand reaches out for his, feeling his fingertips resting on yours. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️

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[wizardofrozz]

Put to the Test

Summary: The clock is ticking. If the Avengers want to bring Roz home alive, they need to find a lead.

Warning: swearing, angst, violence, trauma, depression

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter 9: Time is Almost Up

Steve’s POV

Months flew by with almost no real information on where Hydra was hiding Roz. Any leads worth checking, the four of chased down, but ultimately, we always ended up with nothing. The most recent tip brought us to Siberia, the base where the Winter Soldier was trained. Nat and Clint were sprawled out on one of the queen-sized beds in our hotel room, flipping through Hydra files that Nat managed to uncover. Bucky sat across from me, eyes roaming over a map spread out on the table as I flipped through my notes.

           “Hey, Buck?” Nat called, lifting her head slightly.

           “Hm?” he grumbled, his eyes not leaving the map.

           “Do you remember the layout of the base here?” she asked, watching his response.

           “I could probably draw it,” he mumbled, only half his attention on her.

           “Okay,” she answered, giving up on getting more out of him. The Winter Soldier still occupied Bucky’s brain for the time being, but he insisted (demanded) we stop calling him the Winter Soldier; it was an odd feeling to call out of my friend’s name and not see the typical warmth in his eyes. The empty stare of the Winter Solider made my skin crawl; a flicker of emotion would pass his eyes from time to time, but it never stayed for long. Bucky reached for his notebook next to him, finally ripping his eyes off the map in front of him; I watched his pencil move as he sketched the general outline of the base he was kept in all those years ago. When he finished, he tossed the notebook to Nat; she jumped when it landed on the file she was reading but nodded, her eyes scanning the drawing.

           “Is there any chance they would be keeping her at this base?” Clint piped up.

           “We are running out of places to look. If she isn’t here, I have no idea where else they could be keeping her. This base was supposed to have been destroyed, but when Tony sent a drone out, the entrance still stood,” I said, flicking through a few pictures, tossing the one I wanted at Clint.

           “Well, let’s hope this is a good sign,” he muttered, going back to his file.

***

The bitter cold nipped at the exposed skin of my face and the tips of my ears. I glanced at Clint and Nat, who were huddled together off to my left before turning my gaze back to Bucky, who was working with Tony to get the door of the base open. I rubbed my hand together, trying to chase off the cold seeping into my bones; the sound of crushing metal snapped me out of my frosty daze.

           “Hey! Wait up, Manchurian candidate,” Tony yelled as Bucky walked into the base.

           “I don’t think insulting nicknames work if he doesn’t care,” Nat chuckled as she approached Tony.

           “Let’s go,” I sighed, tentatively following Bucky.

           “Downstairs,” Bucky’s emotionless voice drifted from the elevator. Tony, Nat, Clint, and I stuffed ourselves into the elevator with Bucky; I watched the numbers change as we descended into the underbelly of the base. Bucky was pressed against my chest, while Tony’s back was pressed against mine; Bucky shifted, rolling his eyes when the elevator finally stopped.

           “I did a heat signature scan on our way down the elevator. It looks like we have company and a lot of it,” Tony whispered as we followed Bucky farther into the base.

           “Let’s go see who’s homes,” I mumbled as we approached steel double doors.

***

Roz’s POV

I watched the steady drip from the water pipe make a puddle in the corner of my cell, adding to the already muggy atmosphere in my cell. My hand rested on my bulging stomach, rubbing small lazy circles to keep any anxiety at bay. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks, but at this point, I don’t think there was ever a time that my cheeks weren’t damp anymore. I tried to cling to the hope that Bucky would find me, but as weeks, then months kept flying by, it became harder to anticipate him busting through the door to my cell. The suffocating pain that engulfed me as I thought about my future and the future of our child plunged me into a fitful sleep.

***

I mindlessly spooned the bland oatmeal into my mouth solely for the health of my child. A guard came back sometime later to take the utensils and hand me a plastic cup of orange juice. I barely registered the taste as I chugged it, handing the cup back as a doctor slid into the room. The small man in a white coat wandered to my bed, making notes on a clipboard as his eyes roamed over me; he clicked a few buttons on the machines I was hooked up, nodding to himself.

           “Any pain?” he asked, his voice soft. I didn’t move to answer; my eyes stayed glued to the door; I heard the doctor sigh next to me. “I assume no pain,” he mumbled. “I’ll be back to check again tomorrow,” he said, walking towards the door. When the steel door slid shut, my stoic expression cracked again, tears wetting my cheeks again while I stared through the small window of the door into what may as well be the depths of hell.

***

I woke with a start at the sound of gunfire ringing through the base; I managed to pull myself into a sitting position as I strained to listen. The repeated buzz of metal vibrating caught my attention when the gunfire subsided momentarily. What the hell is going on out there? I looked through the door’s window, but the hall was empty; I buried the idea that anything good was going to come from the commotion. I caught the sight of a handful of guards running into the hallway in front of my cell, each one standing, guns raised, ready to fight. A single shot rang out as the light in the middle of the hallway burst; the light directly in front of my cell cast shadows over the hallway. My heart rate picked up as I watched the shadows of two figures step into the mouth of the hall before the deafening sound of gunfire started again. That same buzz of metal on metal bounced around in my head; it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place why. Suddenly the blare of gunfire stopped, leaving an eerie silence; I caught a glimpse of the figures moving towards my door. I screwed my eyes shut, praying that maybe if I sat completely still, they’d turn to leave; the groaning of the lock mechanism on the outside of my door let me know I was dead wrong. The steel scrapped against the concentrate floor, the sound vibrating through every bone in my body.

           “Roz?” I heard a faint whisper; my heartbeat stuttered at the sound of my name. Snapping my eyes open, I saw Steve’s piercing blue eyes; pure joy surged through his eyes when he realized he found me.

“Steve?” I croaked, relief crashing into me.

“Roz,” he sighed again, moving towards my bed. Steve’s arms pulled me against his chest, crushing me, but I couldn’t be bothered to care; for a split second, I thought it was a trick.

           “Hey Cap, we gotta get moving,” I heard another familiar voice from the doorway.

           “Clint?” I muttered, and Clint’s head poked around the corner of the door.

           “Hey, kid,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

           “Where is everyone else?” Steve said, pulling away from me to look at the machines I was hooked up to.

           “Still clearing the floor,” Clint answered, moving into the doorway. Steve started gently removing wires and tubes from my arm; I threw the blanket off my body, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

           “Holy shit, we got here just in time,” Clint mumbled, eyeing my protruding stomach.

           “Can you walk?” Steve asked after removing the last wire.

           “Yeah, they kept me moving around,” I mumbled. Steve flinched slightly but coaxed my arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around my waist; he helped me get to the floor, but my knees buckled suddenly. Steve inhaled with a hiss before swiping my knees out with his arm, carrying me bridal style. My chin rested on his shoulder as he carried me out of the cell; I watched the doorway get smaller and smaller as a memory hit me. “Bucky,” I whispered.

           “He’s here,” Steve mumbled, his thumb rubbing my shoulder to comfort me.

           “Where is he?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

           “I have to warn you about something before you see him. After you were kidnapped, he snapped; the Winter Soldier kind of came back. Not in the same way as before, but he’s not himself; it may take some time before he’s back to normal. Be prepared,” Steve squeezed me slightly in hopes of comforting me.

           “Oh god,” I croaked, tears springing to my eyes again.

           “Hey, it’s okay. He’ll be okay,” Steve whispered, trying to soothe my hammering heartbeat.

           “They made it outside to the quinjet. The base should be clear,” Clint said as Steve carried me into the elevator. The bumpy ride was agonizing; I buried my face into his neck, doing my best to keep it together. The temperature significantly dropped when Steve stepped out of the elevator; the thin nightgown I was wearing did very little to shield me from the cold. “Steve, stop for a second,” Clint called, his voice getting closer. Clint laid a warm blanket over me; Steve moved his hand so he could pin the blanket against me. The sudden burst of cold air made me jump as an unforgiving chill seeped into my bones.

           “Almost there,” Steve mumbled against the blanket. I could hear the snow crunching under his feet and the howling of the wind through the rocky landscape; I peaked up from Steve’s neck to watch the entrance of the base fade into the distance. I knew we made it the quinjet when I heard the faint hiss of the door hinges open; I shifted in Steve’s arms so I could see into the quinjet. The fading sunlight glistened off a familiar red suit standing in the doorway; Tony’s mask popped up, revealing his tear-stained face.

           “Tony,” I hummed, a smile pulling at my lips.

           “Hey, kiddo,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. As Steve walked up the ramp, I saw Nat jump from her seat, pushing Tony out of the way; her red-rimmed eyes searched my face as Steve got closer.

           “Nat,” my smile grew again.

           “Oh god, I thought we lost you,” she cried, awkwardly hugging Steve and me.

           “Okay, it’s cold out here. Let me get her inside,” Steve chuckled, shouldering his way past Nat into the quinjet. Clint closed the door as soon he stepped him, cutting off the frigid wind. Steve set me on one of the seats along the side of the quinjet, tightly tucking the blanket around my shoulders. Tony stood in the back of the quinjet as Nat and Clint went to the piolet chairs; I tried to look around Tony, but he only moved closer to take up more of my line of sight.

           “I already told her, Tony,” Steve sighed, plopping down next to me. Before I could open my mouth again, Bucky pushed around Tony to stand right in front of me.

           “She is safe now,” Bucky’s eyes fell on Steve. I watched as his eyes passed over my body, landing on my face after making sure I had no visible injuries. “Thank god,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

           “Can we have Bucky back now?” Steve growled, a sour look on his face.

           “I hope I never have to see any of you again,” Bucky sounded completely emotionless; his usual playful nature was gone. My chest tightened at the sight of a man I thought I left in the past; without any warning, a strangled yelp left Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s one eye twitched as his head turned into his shoulder before both of his eyes screwed shut in pain; seconds later, the creases in his face smoothed out as he lifted his head. Bucky’s eyes darted around the quinjet, his brain trying to recognize his surroundings when his eyes fell on me. Bucky’s usual, striking sky blue eyes replaced the empty steel gray ones I saw only seconds before; I watched the emotion surge through him, tears pooling in his eyes.

           “Roz?” he whispered. Bucky’s face softened instantly, looking like a different man, the man I fell in love with almost 100 years ago.

           “Bucky,” I sighed happily, getting to my feet. The blanket fell from my shoulder, revealing how far along my pregnancy is; Bucky’s eyes snapped to my stomach.

           “It’s true,” he mumbled, stepping closer.

           “We’re going to be parents,” I choked out, reaching towards him. Bucky finally closed the space between us; his arms wrapped around me as much as they could, and he buried his face in my neck. I snaked my arms around his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; I gasped as what felt like thousands of fireworks exploded across my skin. Bucky’s shoulders shook, sobs raking his body as we clung to each other; his legs trembled as he pulled away from him before falling to his knees. My heart broke at the pain etched into his face as he looked up at me; his eyes fell onto my stomach as he gently raised his right hand to my stomach. Sparks bounced along my skin as his hand rested on my stomach; Bucky’s gasped when he felt a violent kick to his hand.

           “Hi,” he cooed, chuckling. Another, less forceful kick made him giggled again as he rubbed my stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” Bucky mumbled, leaning in to kiss next to his hand. Bucky swiped the tears from his face with the back of his metal hand as he pushed himself to his feet again. His eyes racked over my body, tears threatening to fall again; Bucky cupped my face, his beautiful blue eyes boring into me.

           “I love you, Bucky Barnes,” I whispered, our lips almost touching.

           “And I love you, Roselia,” he whispered before kissing me. My entire body erupted in fireworks, every inch of my being feelings warm; I finally felt like I was home again.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 10

Taglist: 

@criminalyetminimal​ @kendallthesimp​ @marvelfansworld​ 

[theatrelove3000]

The Next 4000 Years

Hello Friends! This isn’t one of my best or favorite works but it seems important to put out for some reason? It’s just an explanation for a singular line that I wrote in A Proclivity to Protection about Noelle’s new immortality. This is just explaining how she got it. It isn’t very well written, kind of rushed through, but I haven’t had a lot of time on my hands recently, seeing as my job decided I need to work every single day until I’m in so much pain that I cry with every step I take. BUT THAT ISN’T IMPORTANT! THE IMPORTANT THING IS I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND WROTE THIS CRAPPY STORY THAT I HAVE DECIDED IS GOOD ENOUGH TO SHARE!

So anyway. Onward!

Background: Noelle and Loki were “Bound” by a witch in Alfheim after a battle they fought in. This means that the witch split each of their souls in half and one half switched places. Noelle has half of Loki’s soul and vice versa. They can feel each other's emotions and hear each other's thoughts. Noelle is also Half Asgardian, half Midgardian. Her father is Tyr and her mother is of Midgard.

Summary: Noelle and Loki argue about Noelle’s mortality.

Warnings: Maybe swearing? Probably swearing. I don’t remember. It is mostly fluffiness and mention of aging.

The Next 4000 Years

Noelle PoV:

"Loki we need to have this discussion."

"I do not want to have it right now."

"That sucks because if we don't talk about it now, we never will and you know it." I stand in front of him with my hands on my hips.

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why do we suddenly have to have this conversation at this very moment. What has changed in the last 3 weeks since we last spoke of it?"

I close my eyes and lower my hands. "Loki, I'm going gray. My hair is graying already and I'm not even thirty! Not to mention that I'm starting to recognize my own mortality."

Loki's eyebrows pull together. "So you really want to take on the commitment of immortality? It's not as wonderful as it seems."

"Easy for the immortal god to say." He opens his mouth to argue but I don't give him time, "and besides, we both know that I only get about a hundred years. You get thousands. What will you do when I'm old and gray? What will you do when I die? Just off yourself? Run away and hide in seclusion just like you did before? That's not okay with me."

He stops, taken aback. "I can't stomach the thought of you dying, Noelle. That's why I don't want to talk about this."

"Then do the spell. I know you found it because Thor told me and he may be less than intelligent but he's not a liar."

"I never lie to you. I learned that lesson years ago." His face turns angry.

"I'm not saying that you lie to me. I'm saying that he was more likely to tell me about the spell than you were." He looks down at the floor. "Please, Loki. We promised each other our whole lives. I can't bear the thought of leaving you, which is why I'm asking you to do this." I take a step closer to him, hands finding his crossed arms.

"I suppose you did vow to love me for my whole life. How can you do that if you are not in my life?" He takes a deep breath before unfolding his arms and taking my left hand. He slides my wedding ring off and stops my protests with his mouth on mine. "It is necessary for the spell." He whispers against my lips.

And then he is gone. Vanished without a trace. I groan and flop down on the couch, opening my book. There is a little knock on the door and I yell that the door is open.

In runs little Morgan with Peter not far behind her. They are giggling like little school girls and hide behind the couch. I lean over to find Pete with his hand over Morgan’s mouth and a finger to his own to tell me not to acknowledge them. I furrow my brow but turn back to my book.

A few seconds later, a fuming Tony who is covered in pink glitter sprints in. I start cracking up because The Iron Man is creating sunspots on the floor and ceiling of my apartment.

He glares at me and growls, "Where are they?"

I do my best to look innocent, "Who?"

"My wonderful children, who are going to regret the glitter canon that they set up to launch at me when I walked into my lab today."

I am crying from the laughter and Tony is shaking with anger. I hear a giggle from behind the couch but Tony is already gone. I close and lock the door behind him. The kids pop up laughing hysterically and I put a silencing charm over the apartment so Tony doesn't come back. "What did you guys do that for?" I ask them, amused.

"He told us that we could never surprise him with a prank or anything so we decided to prove him wrong!" Peter explains. I smirk and high five them both.

I keep them with me until around dinner time. Loki still hasn't arrived home yet. Morgan asked me where he was and I told her that he was out on errands. She wouldn't understand the situation. So I feed the kids and send them on their way.

It's not until the next morning that Loki returns. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to come back, the remote still in my hand. I am awoken by lips on my forehead and a hand on my cheek. I open my blue eyes to Loki's green ones, complete with dark circles. He didn't sleep last night. I trace my fingers over the bags and he smiles a little at me before lifting me bridal style and carrying me to bed.

I wake up later in the morning with my head on his chest, his arms around my waist. I open my eyes and look up to see his are already open, as usual. The bags are gone though, so he must have gotten a little sleep.

"Good morning, Little Dove." He whispers, kissing my nose.

"Good morning, Loki." I hum back. We lay there for a few more minutes before getting up.

"Coffee?" He hands me a warm mug.

"This is why I love you." I say and take a sip.

He chuckles and sits down across from me at the table, "Is that the only reason?"

"Obviously," I grin and run my fingers along his arm, "Your coffee is the best."

"You wound me, my love." He laughs, taking my hand in his.

We are silent for a moment before I ask him, "So when can I get my ring back?"

He smirks, "Later. Though I must tell you, darling, it truly thrills me that you are so anxious to have it back. That you are so attached to it." He kisses my fingers where my ring should be.

"Of course I'm attached. It's linked to you." He smiles and kisses me deeply. As he moves to my neck, I mutter, "And it's also sparkly so it's fun to wear." He chuckles against my neck and pulls away. He goes to take a shower and I finish my breakfast. After showering and changing my clothes, Loki and I went to the mission briefing. This is another big one so it took longer than it normally does.

The briefing finishes and Loki drags me out of the tower to go on a walk. Since it hasn't been too long since the three month mission he went on with Thor in Niflheim and we have had so many missions since then that we haven't had much time to go out. That's all he wanted: to be outside, happy to have the sun shining on him again. We walk around the park, my hand held in the crook of his elbow, his fingers playing with mine.

We are strolling through central park when we find a tree that looks almost exactly like the one we used to sit and read under in Asgard. He grins at me and pulls me over to sit under it, his back to the trunk with me between his legs, facing away from him, back to chest.

We sit quietly, basking in each other for a while. He breathes deeply and starts to speak softly in my ear. "About four years ago, you asked me while I sat rotting in that cell under the palace of Asgard if I would give you the next seventy years."

I turn my head towards him, he is looking down at me. I stare into pure green emeralds and smile at him. The corner of his lips curl up slightly and he continues, "I told you I would kill for you. I would destroy realms for you. But your kind heart would never ask such displays of me. Therefore, I will kiss you, hold your divine curves close to me, and trace threads of icy fire on your skin with my fingertips. You were and are my craving and my desire. My love and my life are yours. I intend to stand by that answer."

He kisses my forehead and I reciprocate by kissing his jaw. "With that said, I have a query for you, my only love." He shifts his body so he is facing me more, our bodies no longer pressed so closely together. I cup his cheek and he leans into my touch, seemingly lost in it. He kisses my wrist before I let my hand shift into his soft black curls.

"What is it?" I whisper.

"Will you give me the next four thousand years?" He raises his hand that was resting on my hip and shows me my ring. It looks exactly the same but the energy from it is far stronger than before.

I smile at him and kiss him deeply. He sighs and tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss. When we break away for air, I whisper a yes to him and he slips the ring back onto its rightful place on the third finger of my left hand. I feel the magic work through my body the second he let's go of it, his hands moving to my face, kissing my forehead again. The power coursing through my body takes my breath away.

As suddenly as the magic surge appeared, it was gone again, leaving me completely breathless. Even though I am happy about getting what I want, I am anxious. It is weird, why am I so anxious?

Loki notices my panting and pulls me into his lap, resting my head and hand on his chest, helping me breathe. His fingers ran through my hand as he murmured to me in Old Norse. I listened to his heart and breathing and voice, which calms me incredibly quickly.

"Immortality is a hard burden to bear." He tells me.

"It's worth it to stay with you for eternity." I say back, kissing him again.

He chuckles as he pulls back. "I agree."

"Four thousand years?"

"Four thousand years." He brings my lips back to his.

[damn-behzinga]

Moment To Moment

Harry Lewis Centric

summary - This is Harry's story of his relationship with an abusive woman.

warnings - ABUSE AND ATTEMPTED MURDER, swearing, my terrible writing, mental health issues

Harry looked at his bruised chest and the new handprint on his face. He had quickly escaped from the rage of his drunk girlfriend in her bathroom. He sat in front of her bathroom mirror and tried to clean up any recent cuts and wounds.

Harry had arrived at her flat and seen her a few too many glasses in and decided to try and stop her. She wasn't having it though. Yelling how he had ruined her evening, that he wasn't funny, and that he didn't deserve his successful career. Harry believed her, he always believed her.

Harry knew she was going through a tough time, she has just lost her job and so Harry was paying for stuff for her. At first, she yelled at him because "you don't think I can handle myself!". Harry had stopped paying out for her until she had told him, "I can't believe you expect me to be able to behave for my food when I can't afford it!".

As punishment, she told Harry he had to sleep on the cold hardwood floor to prove he loved her. Harry did and only slept for an hour because it was the middle of winter and he couldn't sleep without shivering.

Harry stopped going to a night out with the boys after hearing her cry about how he could easily leave her for a more beautiful woman. Harry tried to convince her otherwise but she wouldn't listen, so Harry stayed at home with her.

Harry's friends and family noticed a change in him. From cancelling plans last minute to the slow descends to silence, something about Harry was changing. Harry wasn't himself anymore and no one knew why.

It wasn't until Harry had the police come over to his flat that shit truly hit the fan. Harry had the other Sidemen round to watch a game when the police knocked on the door. Harry immediately opened the door and welcomed them in bringing them both a cup of tea. Harry sat down with his mug as the police spoke.

"We're here because someone has reported your partner." The black-haired one spoke. Harry tensed slightly but nodded.

"We were shown a video of the two of you outside of a club a few nights ago and it appeared that she was punching you." The blonde-haired one said.

Harry felt his grip loosen, and the mug slipped from his hands. He flinched at the sound and started to use his hand to scoop up the pieces.

The black-haired police officer stopped him, telling him that he could harm himself picking glass up like that. Harry nodded obediently, quickly grabbing the cleaning supplies.

As he swept up the glass, Harry let out a shaky laugh, "sorry, it's not every day someone tells you, your girlfriend has been reported."

The officers frowned at Harry.

"Harry, is that video of you real?" The blonde-haired officer asked.

Harry stood for a few seconds, debating outcomes in his head before nodding.

"It's not like she's abusive." Harry jumped. "She just doesn't know how to show love."

"How does she show her love?" The black-haired one asked.

Harry looked down at his hands. "It's not her fault. She has trust issues and doesn't know how to handle affection. She loves me."

"Harry do you have any proof that she has physically harmed you?" The black-haired officer continued.

Harry swallowed thickly and played with the hem of his top.

"Harry, we would appreciate it if you come down to the station with us." Th blonde haired one whispered.

"I can't." Harry choked out. "She's not abusing me."

"Harry, would you like to report her?" The blonde officer asked.

Harry shook his head. "It's just me being overdramatic."

The officers frowned but left a card for Harry just in case before leaving. When Harry returned to his friends, they questioned him. Harry simply shrugged and told them bullshit lies about a neighbour.

Now, as Harry listened to her drunken screams about how he's a worthless sack of shit, he wished he had reported it that day. Harry pulled out his phone and dialled 999. He panicked as someone responded and hung up. He felt himself panic and quickly sent a text to the sidemen group chat.

H - someone calls the police and tell them to come to my girlfriend's flat.

V - Everything okay?

T - On the phone to them, what's going on

H - just tell them to get here quick.

J - Why can't you just call them???

H - if they hear me they'll do something

JJ - Harry what's going on, should we come over

S - Harry me and JJ are on our way over

E - so am I

Harry heard her banging increase on the door and he quickly put his phone away.

"Come out! I love you, Harry!" Her voice rang in Harry's ears. He clamped his hands over her ears to block her out.

Harry jumped up at the sound of a bang on the door. Her foot connected to the door as she tried to kick the door in. Harry pushed himself against the opposite wall. The door burst open and she stumbled in. She sat on Harry's lap and kissed his lips.

"You don't need to be scared of me." She whispered. "I love you."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. Suddenly her fist connected with his cheek.

"That's for being a dickhead!" She yelled at him, fist colliding with his other cheek. After four more punches, Harry slumped to the floor. A bruise was forming on his jaw and his nose was broken, blood pouring steadily out of his nostrils.

But she wasn't finished, she kicked at his head, heels still on. Her foot connected with his ear and all of a sudden he heard a constant ring in his ear as he lost consciousness.

All he knows was that when the police arrived, an ambulance was called and his girlfriend was taken to a holding cell. He knows that his friends showed up. JJ and Simon got there as the ambulance arrived and his other friends arrived at the same time as he was getting carried in by the paramedics.

Harry's family had flown in from Guernsey to support him after Ethan had called them with the news.

When Harry woke up in the hospital bed, he was two things. High on painkillers and embarrassed. He had never thought he'd be in a scenario where he'd end in the hospital. He didn't have a chance to tell anyone what happened because the police walked in and asked to talk to Harry.

"Harry, we know your partner did this to you." The male officer said. "You just need to tell us what happened and we can take her down."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What if they don't believe me?" He asked.

"Harry, there is a small chance they don't. You have us as witnesses, injuries, and chances are she will just confess." The female officer said. "Take a few moments and you can tell us what happened when you're ready."

Harry sighed and looked at his hands. He let out a few tears and started to tell his story. He told the officers that the abuse had only started a few months into their relationship. He noted how it started with small things. "She took money from me because I told her I was going out with friends. She wasn't too happy and when I got home she was drunk and slapped me."

The male officer jotted down notes as the female officer passed him a cup of water. Harry took a sip and looked out the window.

"It started to increase. She shoved my head in the sink to try and drown me. She smashed my TV and my laptop. I left to go away for two nights for my job and she went ballistic. She ripped my clothes to pieces and told me she would cut me to pieces. She locked me in her bedroom with one glass of water for a day and a half. When she let me out, she said I could only eat if I cleaned the flat up. Every time I cleaned something up, she smashed glass to the floor and made me clean it up with my hands." Harry sobs as he shows the officers his hands. When the officers look, they see a large scar across his palm.

"You are doing so well, Harry." The female officer smiled.

Harry took a deep breath and let out another sob. "Can we stop, please? I can't do this anymore."

The officers nodded sympathetically and the male officer said, "Yes, we'll see you soon. Would you like anyone to come in specifically, or are you okay being by yourself?"

"Um, can you send in my friends please?" Harry asked. The officers nodded and walked out and within a few seconds, the Sidemen walked in. They all stood silently for a moment, not knowing how to act around the vulnerable friend.

Ethan eventually spoke first. "We would've bought your phone but they took it. You can borrow my phone though."

Harry huffed out a laugh as Ethan grinned.

Tobi sat on the chair next to Harry and smiled at him. "It was well boring whilst you were out," he said. "Had to listen to JJ."

"Aye!" JJ exclaimed. The men laughed softly.

"You could've told us," Simon whispered after a minute or two which caused Harry to suddenly take interest in his hands. Vik quickly scolded Simon who just continued.

"We would've helped and stopped it before it got too bad." He said. "We noticed something was up but we never talked to you about it."

Harry swallowed thickly as tears filled his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to feel sorry. She abused you, not the other way round." Vik whispered. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. We're here."

Harry stayed quiet for a few minutes. "Did you see what my injuries were like?" He asked.

"Yeah," JJ stated. "She got a few good punches in man, she'd be a great competition!"

The men were about to scold him but were interrupted by Harry laughing. They smiled.

"She, um, she tried to kill me at one point." Harry sighed. "It was the day before the monopoly shoot and she put my head in the bath and held it down with her foot."

"Fuck Harry. And you came in as nothing had happened." Josh ran a hand through his hair. "You'll probably need to take a few days off and that is fine. We'll tell the audience you're busy whilst you recover."

"I don't want to stop filming." Harry pointed out. "If I stop filming, I'll fall apart."

"But would you want the viewers asking why your face has a fat bruise on it and why your nose is broken?" Vik asked.

"Well, we don't have to tell them." Harry shrugged.

"Harry, I think it's safer if we wait until your trial is over," Simon said softly.

"Trial?" Harry laughed disbelievingly. "I'm not going to trial."

"You might have to, mate," Ethan said. "If she pleads not guilty then you'll have to go to trial."

"I'm not going on trial."

"Mate, if you don't do this then someone else will get hurt by her because you didn't take that chance to lock her up," JJ said sternly.

Harry looked down at his hands. "Get out. Please. I want my mum."

The men wanted to protest but they knew it would distress Harry even more. They nodded and walked silently out the room except for Josh who stopped at the doorway. "We hope you get better soon. Just think about it, okay?" Harry nodded and Josh left the room.

When his family came in, his mum let out an "Oh, my beautiful boy! It's okay now. We're here for you. I never liked that girl." It was true when they had first met Harry's girlfriend, his mum openly told him she wasn't sure about the way she acted.

Harry enjoyed the embrace from his mum, he felt safe in her arms.

Soon enough, Harry was stood in court as she pleaded not guilty. Harry had his parents and friends come along. Harry couldn't help but feel embarrassed about the photos that came up of him laying on the bathroom floor surrounded by blood. The video of her punching him outside a club, and the picture he took of himself after she had attempted to kill him. At one point she laughed at the photo of Harry's injuries. Harry gulped and looked down.

She had got prosecuted for actual bodily harm, attempted murder through drowning, and domestic violence, which resulted in her getting life in prison. When Harry heard the charges he turned to his lawyer and hugged him and let out a sob of joy. Harry didn't feel one hundred per cent better but he felt free.

Of course, news spread quickly because, somehow, someone found out Harry was in court because he was involved in a domestic abuse situation. Word spread quickly and everyone believed Harry was the culprit and beat his girlfriend or some shit. He lost two million subscribers within two days and he crashed.

He told his friends and family not to speak about it until he had a statement out. He quickly took to Twitter to release screenshots of his full statements and the picture of his face after it was beaten.

'Sometimes, you think you know and love a person and then they show their full and evil self. I'm sure, based on the rumours going around, you guys think a similar thing with me. I thought the same about my girlfriend. Turns out she was not as kind and loving as I believed. She would physically, verbally, and financially abuse me. She even went as far as to try and take my life. Now, I won't go into too much detail over what happened. I won't ask for your sympathy or anything, just a small request that you leave my personal life and the people in it alone. Especially my ex-girlfriend's family. They were not the abusers. If you have any respect for me, then you should have even more respect for my friends and family. This may be the only time I speak about this situation and it may not, I just hope you guys can allow me to grow from this time in my life. My friends and family have been so supportive in this painful time and have given me a shoulder to cry on and someone to hold me up when I fall. I want to stress that my family and friends did not know of the abuse because my girlfriend and I were good at hiding it. I know for a fact that if it was a bit more obvious, they would not have hesitated to step in. Chances are, I will appear in Sidemen and other videos but I'll look like a mess so please comment on the video, not the way I look. I want to finish this statement by saying that no one is alone. If you feel like you are being abused, tell anyone. And if you think you are the abusive, help is out there. Violence is not the answer. I love you all and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for this mess.'

Immediate support flooded in. His subscribers went up and supportive tweets were coming in telling him that he was strong. He trended on Twitter, the phrase 'We Love Harry' was top ten, and his family flooded him with support. Harry was slowly getting better. He had the support of thousands, if not millions, of people, he was finally getting inspiration to post on his channel, and he was talking to a therapist. His life was finally piecing together.

He had his moments. Nightmares plagued his sleep for months, there were days when he would physically harm himself because that's all he knew for the months of his relationship, and sometimes he would ask his friends to hurt him. They knew otherwise. They would come round and Harry would flinch at any sudden movements and he would wait for them to hit him. But instead, he was pulled into a hug and was comforted during his tough time. Shoots would need to be stopped for a couple of minutes when Harry got overwhelmed. And they stopped during physical punishments.

But overall, Harry was getting better. Especially with a group of loving friends and family surrounding him. Step by step, moment by moment, Harry was recovering from a trauma that changed his life. He wasn't suffering alone anymore.

[bamon4bamily]

9x12 - There’s no place like home (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – Munich, Germany; late at night. Elena, having a bad case of insomnia, gets out of bed, makes herself some coffee, and begins to write in her journal.

Dear Diary,

Once again, I’ve gone MIA on you. I really need to try harder. I’ll take this sleepless night as a starting point. Anyway, I’m writing to you from a foreign land, Munich, my new home. The city is absolutely beautiful, and the University, an intimidating fortress of knowledge. I have never felt so excited and scared at the same time. The medical program is way over my capacities, but I believe I can get through it, if I devote myself to study, and learn as much as I can from Sam. He is such a prodigy, doesn’t give himself nearly as much credit as he should. Speaking of Sam, you should know I am head over heels for him, and have been living with him for some time. Unlike my previous experience, I’ve learned that it is possible to live amicably with your other half… Although, just between us, and despite my best efforts to let go, I admit that it still bothers me. Buried deep inside, I have these feelings of jealousy, which I wish would finally go away… Not only about him, but Stefan as well… How screwed up am I? I mean, nothing makes me happier than to see Bonnie and Caroline happy, but why did it have to be with them? Sounds horrible, I know, and I fight each day to grow out of it; guess it’s harder than I thought. Enough with the past, I need to focus on the new, better version of myself, and move on. But I do miss home…      

Cut to – the Salvatore mansion. Bonnie, Damon, Caroline, and Stefan, arrive from the airport. As soon as Caroline puts her luggage on the floor, the girls run down the stairs to greet her.

 JOSIE & LIZ: Mommy!!!!

CAROLINE: My girls!! (Hugs them) I missed you so much!!!  

JOSIE & LIZ: We missed you too, mommy!! (They turn to Stefan, Bonnie, and Damon) And you too!! (They hug them).

CAROLINE: Guess what, girls? I come baring gifts!! Quick, open that bag and find out what’s inside… (the girls rush to open the bag and take their gifts out; Caroline, surprised that Alaric didn’t come down, asks for his whereabouts). Where’s daddy?

JOSIE: (Switches from full excitement to nervousness at his mention) Uhm... we… we don’t know…

CAROLINE: What do you mean you don’t know? Then, who is taking care you??

LIZZY: Miss. Cuddles!

CAROLINE: Are you kidding!!?? Wait, are you girls playing with me? Is this some type of guilt trip to punish me for going away? (Shouts) Ric! Ha, ha, ha, real funny! You can come out now, I’m not buying it!

JOSIE: I told you mommy, he is gone… and so are they…

STEFAN: Who is they?

JOSIE: Radka, Mr. Sergei, Miss. Lexi, Mr. Tyler, Miss Margo, Miss. Katherine, the scary looking lady, that other lady, and the ghost lady…

CAROLINE: Girls, stop, this isn’t funny.

LIZZY: We are telling you the truth, mommy, pinky swear.

DAMON: (To Bonnie) I’ll go check the house out (he vamps away).

BONNIE: Girls, why don’t you tell us what you know.

JOSIE: It’s all my fault… I knew I shouldn’t have played with that toy.

CAROLINE: Which toy?

JOSIE: The one daddy hides in his lock… we were doing a spell to help Miss. Katherine and the lock was open, so I took it. Then Miss. Katherine was gone… and then we woke up today, just before you got home, and they were all gone…

CAROLINE: You were doing a spell? For what?

LIZZY: To put them back in their bodies, or something… but then Josie took that toy, and I don’t think it worked anymore.

CAROLINE: This is making no sense! Not even a day back, and this is what we come home to, absolute chaos!

BONNIE: Calm down, Care, we’ll figure out what’s going on.

DAMON: Well I think they are definitely playing a prank un us; look who I found roaming around (he is holding “Katherine” by the arm) … and, (puts Miss. Cuddles on the sofa), there’s something very wrong with Miss Cuddles. 

CAROLINE: Why am I not surprised! (Grabs “Katherine” by the neck) You better tell me right now, what the hell is going on!!?? And why the hell are you still here!!!

IVAN: (Looking very scared) Please, don’t hurt me!! I… I... I’m not Miss. Katherine, I’m a student, Ivan, remember me, Miss. Caroline?

CAROLINE: Really? You want to play that game?

JOSIE: He’s telling the truth, mommy… he’s in Miss. Katherine’s body and she’s in his.

STEFAN: Who is in who’s body now? Wow… (whispers to Damon) is there a chance we might still be high? (Damon makes a “who knows face”).

BONNIE: (Inspecting Miss. Cuddles) Well, there is definitely something wrong with Miss. Cuddles; there’s a camera inside…

DAMON: Let me see… (takes the camera out) This is some freaky shit…

STEFAN: That’s an understatement.

CAROLINE: Okay, okay, no need to panic (she is clearly panicking) …

BONNIE: (Connecting the dots) Wait… Josie, about that toy… what did it look like?

JOSIE: It’s the toy you built with us aunt Bonnie… (they all stare at each other).

BONNIE: Oh no…

Cut to – the secret facility, Edward’s cell.

 AUGUSTUS: When shall we expect our guest to arrive?

EDWARD: He’s on his way back; should be home by tonight.

AUGUSTUS: Good. (As he is about to leave, he turns around) I’ve arranged a funeral service for tomorrow. You see, I’m not as bad as you think… And, as promised, once we have him in our custody, I’ll make it worth your while. I have a big surprise for you (winks, then leaves).

Cut to – 2018 prison world. Salvatore mansion basement cell. Alaric, Lexi, Sergei, Margo, The Madame, Danae, Radka and Tyler are locked up, starting to gain consciousness after they apparently blacked-out.

ALARIC: What the hell happened?

THE MADAME: I think it’s safe to say that our plan failed, darling.

ALARIC: Sergei, you are here… I thought we agreed you’d stay behind to watch the girls.

SERGEI: That was the plan, my friend. Somehow, I ended up here…  

ALARIC: Shit, shit, shit!

RADKA: Ric, come down. We aren’t going to solve anything by getting angry. I’m sure the girls are fine; Caroline is probably home by now, won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on.

TYLER: So much for full vamp, werewolf and witch power…

LEXI: Uhm, guys, where is Emily?

MARGO: Oh, dear… the spell… must be done by now… she’s gone.

DANAE: Meaning we are stuck in here… Great!

RADKA: Why did we even attempt to do this? What were we thinking?

THE MADAME: We weren’t.

ALARIC: Does anyone remember how we ended up in the Salvatore’s basement? There is no way Kai could have pulled this off on his own. (The door window shed opens; Kai is standing on the other side).

KAI: There you go again, Ric. Always underestimating people. Some words of advice: “Arrogance in full bloom bears a crop of ruinous folly from which it reaps a harvest all of tears.”

ALARIC: Kai, you piece of shit! I swear if you don’t let us out of here…

KAI: Calm yourself, I thought you were a teacher; such vulgar language. For the life of me, I will never understand how Josette fell in love with you. May she rest in peace. But, fear not, I mean you no harm, unlike you, I have changed. However, I am curious as to why you have intruded my eternal game of solitaire. Care to compose yourself, and explain?

ALARIC: Listen, all we want is to find Katherine and get out of here. Just tell us where she is, and we’ll get out of your way.

KAI: Oh, so the boy was telling the truth. Ha, my bad… (Looks at his watch) will you look at the time! Sorry, I must head out now, I’m going to be late for teatime. I will be back soon, and we can figure this whole thing out. I am sorry to have to keep you like this, I’m sure you can understand why. Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with some music so you can relax. (Closes the window shed, plays the same Beethoven song, in yet another jukebox; then leaves).

RADKA: I don’t get it. If he wanted us dead, we would be. He doesn’t seem to want anything from us. Why not just let us go so he can continue with his lonely existence; he seems to enjoy it.

TYLER: Isn’t it obvious? He’s waiting for Bonnie to show up and save the day, like she always does.

RADKA: Why is he so obsessed with her?

ALARIC: I think that in his weird psycho way, he’s in love with her.

TYLER: To be fair, it’s hard not to fall in love with Bonnie, so I kinda get where he’s coming from.

LEXI: I agree.

DANAE: Me too.

ALARIC: I think we can all agree. But something is off with him. The old Kai would have gutted us by now. The way he talks, how he’s dressed... doesn’t fit.

TYLER: Maybe he has changed…

ALARIC: Come on, Ty, you don’t believe that for a second, do you?

TYLER: I’m just saying, if the queen of hell managed to somehow find her way. Maybe he did too... I mean, let’s be honest, we’ve all done some horrible things.

ALARIC: You do remember this is the same person that murdered his entire family, including my ex-wife, and your ex-girlfriend.

TYLER: Well, when you put it that way… Forget what I said, we need to get the fuck out of here, with or without Katherine.

THE MADAME: Why did I ever agree to do this?!

MARGO: I hear you.

DANAE: Ditto!

Cut to – The Salvatore mansion. Bonnie, Damon, Caroline and Stefan are in the library.

 BONNIE: So, it’s settled then. Damon and I will go, you guys stay here to watch over the girls.

CAROLINE: Why does it have to be you?

BONNIE: You know why, Care. 

DAMON: How did they get themselves into this mess in the first place, those freakin morons!

BONNIE: They did what they thought was right, can’t blame them for trying.

STEFAN: I think I should go with you too; you’ll need as much help as you can get.

DAMON: No offense, bro, but you’re still a human, I can’t see how you can help.

STEFAN: Well, I don’t have to be a human… Let’s do it, right here and now. We were going to do it anyway, so this is the perfect time.

CAROLINE: That ‘s true… Are you really sure?

STEFAN: I’m sure, Care.

BONNIE: Guys, there is no need to rush anything, Damon and I can handle this.

STEFAN: We know you can, Bon, but I want to help. Come on, let’s just get this over with. Care, ready?

CAROLINE: As ready as I’ll ever be… (bites her wrist and holds it out for Stefan to drink).

STEFAN: Damon, your turn. One in a lifetime opportunity, bro.

DAMON: Should we go for the old neck snap? Those are always fun (wiggles his eyebrows).

STEFAN: Sure, why not. Just do it already.

BONNIE: Stefan, really, you don’t have to...  

STEFAN: I know, Bon, I want to. (To Damon) Do it.

DAMON: (Grabs him by the head) Last chance to back out, are you sure this is what you want?

STEFAN: I’m sure, Damon. Come on, the sooner the better, snap it!

DAMON: Okay... (snaps his neck, he falls dead to the ground)...  Well, that’s that. Now we just have to wait until he wakes up, make sure nothing went wrong.

STEFAN: (Not even a minute out, and his awake) That wasn’t as bad as I remembered it…

CAROLINE: (Hugs him) Here (hands him a blood bag to complete the transition).

STEFAN: For better or worse, bottoms up! (Chugs the blood bag, and completes the transition).

CAROLINE: Are you feeling okay?

STEFAN: (Vamps from one side of the room to the other) I feel great! Remind me again why I ever wanted to become human?

DAMON: Been telling you for centuries!

STEFAN: Well, I’m ready. Let’s go do this.

BONNIE: Are you sure you are up for it? You might need some time to process…

STEFAN: I’m fine, Bon, no need to process. Might be weird but it feels natural. Trust me, I feel just fine, better than fine. 

BONNIE: Okay, then (to Damon and Stefan) grab my hand… (she does the spell, and off they go).

Cut to – the Lockwood house. Matt arrives from the airport. Inside, waiting for him, a SWAT team.

MATT: (Puts his luggage on the floor) No need to shoot this time. Let me just grab some things and we can go.

AGENT: What things?

MATT: I need a suit; I have a funeral to attend.

AGENT: Fine, get it fast. I’ll follow you. (As they are walking upstairs) Where is your wife?

MATT: Not your concern, she’s not part of the deal.

AGENT: Better not be planning anything, Donovan. We got eyes on all of you.

MATT: Then you have nothing to worry about. Unless of course your little gadgets fail… which I’m sure they won’t.

AGENT: Just shut up and hurry up.

MATT: (Grabs the suit) I’m ready, let’s go.

Cut to- 2018 prison world. Salvatore mansion backyard. Katherine is tied to a chair in a very bizarre setting of a tea party, Alice in Wonderland style. Horribly made replicas of Miss Cuddles are set on the other chairs as “guests”. Kai comes out with some biscuits and a teat pot, sets it on the table, then sits in front of Katherine, who has, once again, been mouth covered.

KAI: (Takes a sip of his tea, then stares deep into the boy’s eyes) Well, that was an interesting twist to the story… Katherine. 

(He takes another sip of tea, and once again, plays the Beethoven song, this time from his phone).

Cut to – 2018 prison world, Mystic Falls downtown. Damon, Bonnie and Stefan have just arrived.

STEFAN: (Looking around the place) Never thought something so familiar would feel so creepy.

DAMON: Welcome to bizzaro world, brother.

BONNIE: (Sarcastically) Now imagine this, plus your brother, and 1994…

DAMON: Hey! Rude!

BONNIE: Just calling it like it was. But I’ll give you one thing, the plaid thing kinda grew on me (kisses him).

DAMON: And so did Boyz II Men… I’ve heard you blast it in the shower so you can’t deny it.

STEFAN: They had some good tunes…

DAMON: Aha! I told you it was his!

STEFAN: Uhm, nice try, bro, but no; that was totally you.  

BONNIE: (With a smirk) I knew it!

DAMON: You are never gonna let that go, are you?

BONNIE: Not a chance in hell. But I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.

DAMON: Deal (they shake hands).

BONNIE: Okay, back to the mission in question; it’s going to be a tricky one. I designed this place not to have a celestial event so there’d be no way out. I’m gonna have to tweak somethings around, but…

DAMON: Bon?

BONNIE: I’ve never done anything like this, so who knows what could happen. A full moon shouldn’t be that hard to conjure… But, hey, worst case scenario, this place becomes weirder than it already is. No big deal; we can handle weird, right?

DAMON: We got weird down to a science. Let’s get awkward!

BONNIE: (Smirks) Okay boys, give me your hand. (She concentrates, her eyes turn white as she chants. The wind begins to blow at full force, the place shakes, the sky distorts).

 Cut back to - Kai and Katherine’s tea party. Something feels off… The place begins to shake, and the sky twirls as if someone on acid was staring at it. Suddenly, it stops. A full moon lights what was once a pitch-dark sky.

 KAI: (Looks up at the sky, sees the full moon and smiles. The Kai we know returns) She’s here…  

How do I look? Oops, that’s right, you can’t talk. I’mma take that look as a “great”. God, I’m so nervous! (Takes deep breaths) Okay, okay, I have to pull myself together. (To the Miss Cuddles replicas, pointing at the sky) You see that? She’s finally here!!! And I need to get ready for karaoke night!! (To Katherine) Sorry to leave you hanging like this… Nah, who am I kidding, not sorry at all! (Rushes into the house).

 Cut back to – Downtown, Mystic Falls. Bonnie, Damon and Stefan.

STEFAN: Wow, Bon; that was intense!

BONNIE: Can’t believe I pulled that off...

DAMON: (Kisses her) Of course you did, you always do.

BONNIE: Now that that’s solved; on to the next part of the plan. Kai is probably expecting me now, and I’m pretty sure where to find him. Why don’t you guys go to your house, figure out where everyone is; and I’ll meet up with our old friend.  

DAMON: No way I’m leaving you alone with Kai; I’m going with you.

BONNIE: Things between Kai and me are personal; I think I should do this on my own. I’ll be okay; I promise. I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with me.

DAMON: Bon, he might not try to hurt you physically, but, like you said, it’s personal.

STEFAN: He’s right, Bon. You two go find Kai, I’ll find the rest.

BONNIE: Okay… (turns to Damon) just don’t let him push your buttons.

DAMON: I won’t. I’ll keep an eye on you; you keep an eye on me.

BONNIE: That’s how we roll.

STEFAN: Call me if there’s any trouble; I’ll let you know as soon as I find them. Please, stay safe (he vamps away).

BONNIE: Ready? (Damon nods) Let’s go find our old prison world roomie.

 Cut to – Munich University, Medical Lab. Sage is running some sort of tests; she has the lab to herself. Sam walks in.

SAGE: (Startled) Sam! What the hell are you doing here?! You scared the shit out of me!

SAM: Sorry… but I could ask you the same question; it’s like 1:00 am…

SAGE: I booked the place; it’s the only time I can have it to myself.

SAM: Cause that doesn’t sound crazy… Anyway, relax, I’m not here to sabotage your sacred lab time.

SAGE: Then, what are you doing here?

SAM:  I need to ask you a favor (hands her the test tube that Elena found in the black box).

SAGE: What is this?

SAM: That’s what I’m hoping you can tell me…

SAGE: Why not just test it yourself?

SAM: I’m a scalpel kinda guy, you are the lab expert.

SAGE: (Rolls her eyes, she can’t seem to resist anything when it comes to him) Fine. I’ll let you know what I find. 

SAM: You’re the best (kisses her on the cheek).  

SAGE: Whatever. But I wasn’t kidding; I booked the place for myself, so shoo, skedaddle.

SAM: Leaving; just please, don’t tell Elena, she thinks I got rid of it…

SAGE: I won’t. But you know I’ll ask for something in return.

SAM: Wouldn’t expect anything less from you (smirks, then leaves. A few minutes later, Pietro walks in).

PIETRO: Miss Luxford, I granted you permission to use the lab for program purposes only. I sure hope that what you are holding in your hand applies to that criteria. But I have a feeling it doesn’t…

TVD 9x12 (part 2) coming next. Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You Ch. 7

Read on Ao3

Marinette jumped as shrieks erupted in the street outside her window. Before she could so much as ask what was going on, Alya had clambered up to the skylight, phone out as she recorded, pausing only long enough to wave at Marinette to follow her. 

“I’m currently at the Dupain-Cheng bakery where cries of fear were heard moments ago in the street below,” Marinette could hear her friend saying as she rocketed onto the balcony. “An akuma attack twice in one day is unusual, but no longer as out of the ordinary as…”

Stunned, Marinette climbed to her feet. Her heart was pounding, but she ignored it as she followed her friend. She felt naked and exposed as she climbed out into the night, but was painfully aware that whatever was in store for them wouldn’t be deterred by anything short of the impossible magic Alya had described.

Magic her friend suspected she might have wielded at one point.

Marinette stared at her hands as she crouched beside her friend. She tried to imagine them covered in the same impervious fabric Ladybug and Chat Noir had been wearing, but for the first time in her life, she came up blank. She’d never been the type to run head-first into danger. Sure, she cared about doing the right thing, but…she was only one person.

Alya held her phone out towards the street and leaned in towards Marinette. “Rule number one during an akuma attack,” she whispered, “Lock down the area if you’re not in the middle of it. Rule number two, stay calm. Rule number three, let the heroes do the work.”

“This is ‘locking down’,” Marinette said, eyeing the phone. 

Alya at least blushed. “Not…exactly,” she admitted as she glanced at the screen. 

“It’s not safe out her, Alya,” Marinette said. her skin was prickling with trepidation. “We should go inside.”

“It’s for the blog,” Alya said stubbornly. “Besides, it never bothered you before - not that you’d remember that.”

Marinette had a hard time believing she’d be ok with her best friend putting herself in harms’ way. She was beginning to think her friend was putting a little too much faith in her idol. She shivered as she remembered how the needle had torn through her own back that afternoon, a blow that would have incapacitated Chat Noir if she’d been just a little slower. 

Suddenly, Alya screamed beside her. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME LADYBUG HAD A NEW SUIT?”

Marinette slowly uncurled from her duck and looked where her friend was pointing.

Across the river, standing on the roof of the Notre Dame, were Ladybug and Chat Noir. They surveyed the street below, no sign of the tension from that afternoon between them.

“Oh! My! GOD!” Alya was saying as she zoomed in on the duo. “Is it possible Paris’s favourite hero has levelled up?! Check out the new suit! And the hair! Amazing!”

Alya continued to gush about Ladybug, but Marinette couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hero’s partner. Just like that morning, a storm of emotions began swirling in the pit of her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her completely. She could swear she felt her heart tugging, almost as though she missed him. 

If she’d lost her memories, would the feelings stay, she wondered. Even if she didn’t recognize him, could she still miss a friendship she was beginning to suspect might have been there?

And then Marinette knew: Alya’s theory was wrong. Maybe not entirely, but there was…there was more. Her heart raced painfully, as though she were standing at the edge of a precipice, a dark, churning ocean just beyond the tips of her toes, the answers she needed just past where she could see.

Alya’s grip on Marinette’s arm brought her painfully back into the present. Ladybug and Chat Noir had disappeared over the other side of the Notre Dame, where more screams had erupted.

“Lets go!” Alya sprung to her feet. “I can’t believe I’m so close right when this is starting. This never happens.”

“Go ahead,” Marinette said, following her friend down into her room. “I’m not feeling so great.”

Alya stopped, one hand on the hatch. “Are you ok? Do you…do you want me to stay?”

Marinette had to hide a smile. From what she’d seen of the Ladyblog, she knew the offer wasn’t one her friend made lightly. “Go ahead,” Marinette said. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for coming. I’m just going to ‘lock down’ and catch up on what I’ve missed.”

“Ok, girl,” Alya said, flinging open the hatch. “Stay safe, and keep an eye out for what you miss!”

“You stay safe!” Marinette said, but Alya had already disappeared. 

She shook her head, closing the hatch before dropping back onto her chaise. She pulled up the blog on her phone, but rather than scroll through it, Marinette let it drop to her stomach as her conversation with Alya swirled through her mind. 

She’d been right. There were gaps in her memory. Huge, enormous, truck-sized gaps. But why? An akuma, like Alya had suggested? A horrible side-effect of magic gone wrong? That felt…more right than her first theory. She knew she was a lot of things, but a superhero just wasn’t one of them. She hated fighting, and anyway,  with how clumsy she was, she wouldn’t have been any good at it. 

“Just a side-effect,” Marinette said to herself. “Just some magic.”

Magic. It was still hard to believe that was real - and worse, that it could be used against her in such a personal way if she wasn’t careful. Something flickered at the edge of her memory, but as she began to focus on it, it disintegrated, dissolving as though it had never been there at all.  

Marinette sat up, tapping her foot as she glanced out her windows. The sounds of fighting had died down, but the occasional rumble still rattled the glass. She didn’t like fighting. She wouldn’t be any good at it. She hated violence.

So why did she find herself fighting the urge to tear after Alya? Why was her pulse racing, every nerve in her body daring her to leap into action?

“What…happened to me?” 

Marinette stood and crossed the room to her vanity. She stared at her reflection as though staring for some sign of the trauma in her reflection, as though the answers might be written on her face.

But there was nothing unusual there - at least, nothing that stood out to her. Nothing that screamed ‘this is what happened! This is how to undo it!’

Sighing, Marinette turned back around and took one step towards her desk when a familiar swarm of bright ladybugs shot past her window into the street below. Seconds later her phone chimed.

Marinette scooped it up and opened the text from Alya in one smooth move as she dropped into her computer chair.

ALYA: ‘Over now. Ladybug and Chat Noir kicked serious akuma booty, but it was a real monster this time. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.’

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed as she texted her friend back, a knot of anxiety in her stomach easing. ‘Glad you’re safe. Can’t wait to see the footage.’ 

She’d barely set the phone down when another text came in. ‘Realized you’ve forgotten anything else after reading the blog?’

Marinette bit her lip. ‘Haven’t gotten a chance to read it yet. I’ll let you know.’

She put the phone down again and reached for the mouse, but paused as her eyes landed on her bag and untouched homework. She sighed, reaching for the bag instead. Her problems weren’t going anywhere, and more importantly, she was willing to bet ‘akuma attack’ wasn’t going to cut it as far as excuses went. Besides, she was the one who’d decided to pass on her free period. The Ladyblog could wait. 

Ten hours later, Marinette woke up face-down on her homework tablet, her cheek highlighting an entire paragraph on cell-structure. 

“Wha…?” She sat up, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth. The clock on the nearly-dead tablet read 6:57 am. A little ways to her left was a bowl of soup she guessed her mom had left sometime when she’d been sleeping and hadn’t come down for dinner.

Marinette shuddered as she stretched, snatches of nightmares of horrible monsters drifting in and out of her memory, and a boy in black screaming her name.

“Weird dreams,” Marinette yawned as she plugged in the tablet to charge. “Weird…”

She paused, her skin tingling. Dreams…they were dreams, right? Or were they something else, something se was supposed to… She giggled to herself, standing up. Of course they were dreams, she thought as she began to get ready for another day, hunting for a pair of earrings. What else would they be?

[meganshinsou-tm]

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter seventeen: the void

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: mentions of suicide/self harm, depression, anxiety, comfort

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

The loud and obnoxious sound of the alarm on your phone woke you from a deep slumber. You groaned and reached behind your head to the arm of the couch and grabbed the device, picking it up and touching the 'off' button. Your fingers went to clutch the phone but it slipped from your hold and landed straight on your forehead.

"Oh for the love of fucking christ why!"

Groaning and moaning in pain, you rolled over and fell straight off of the couch with a yelp. 

"I'm just going to lay here and die," you thought to yourself as your face stayed buried into the rug. 

The phone started to ring only a few seconds later, startling you from the serene quietness of the house. With a sigh you sat up on your elbows and grabbed the phone, seeing that it was Hitoshi calling, more than likely to make sure you were awake from your nap.

"Ayeeee," you answered with a tired and un-enthused tone.

"I swear you're something else woman, are you awake? Like awake awake?"

"Yeah I'm awake, trust me," you replied rubbing your forehead.

"Okay, just making sure sweetness. The kid has dance this afternoon right?"

You confirmed Hitoshi's question as you rose from the floor with a groan. The two of you continued to converse as you put on your hoodie and coat, shoes and grabbed your car keys. It had been exactly three weeks since you moved in with your now boyfriend to help him with the care of Eri. It was an exhausting and busy three weeks but so wonderful at the same time. You liked the hustle and bustle of bringing Eri to and from school and her different lessons. More than anything you loved being part of Hitoshi and Eri's life, sharing a home with them both and having your own life full of love and happiness, all because of them.

"How about I meet you two after her lesson and we'll go out for dinner since it's Friday?"

You quirked a brow and counted back your days, realizing that Hitoshi was right but also causing another important detail to pop into your brain as you saw a sparkly pink duffel bag by the front door.

"Uh – I think it'll be just me and you actually. Eri is supposed to go to some little slumber party tonight after dance. I just remembered!"

"That's fine then, you know what, since you'll be back at home before me I'll just pick up some take-out on my way home and we'll have a night in together. It's been a while since we've had one of those, kid free. Maybe even have a copious amount of sex squeezed in between some movies and video games?"

You laughed as you were already out the door and getting into your vehicle, knowing good and well that your lover was at his work desk surrounded by his colleagues and not giving a single fuck about if they could overhear him or not.

"Mmm, food, movies, video games and sex. Should I wear my 'holey' pants, I just know how turned on you get when I strut around in them!"

A sharp inhale was heard on the other end of the call, making you laugh again from imagining Hitoshi grinning through his gritted teeth as he thought of your pair of pajama pants with pink pineapples all over them and a good number of frayed holes. You never cared to throw them away because they were the most comfortable pair of pj's you owned.

"Oh now you're talking, maybe even wear a matching trash bag top. Mmm, that'd be so fucking hot!"

More laughter erupted from your mouth, making Hitoshi laugh as well. You sank back into the seat of the vehicle after starting the engine and turning the heater on full blast. "I love you weirdo."

"I love you more sweetheart. Be careful on the road please, and text me when you get there."

"You got it captain!"

After picking up Eri from school, the two of you had a small amount of time to drive-thru and grab a quick snack. Eri sat in her booster seat, eating her fries and drinking her juice happily as you did the same. You turned down the music on the radio and glanced at the little girl in your rear-view mirror.

"So cutie, what do you want to be for Halloween? We're gonna have to start looking for a costume because you got that party coming up, plus we're all going to the festival at UA."

As Eri chewed on a mouthful of salty fries she thought with a finger to her cheek. After a few seconds, her ruby eyes lit up and she looked at you.

"I want to be Alice!"

"Ooh, that sounds easy enough! You'd make a very cute and fitting Alice! You know I think we should make Toshi be the Cheshire Cat!"

"Yeah! He's purple already!" Eri pointed out.

You laughed and agreed with her. You couldn't wait to tell Hitoshi the decision you and his sister made in regards to his Halloween outfit. Eri followed with asking what you would be, which actually stumped you. You weren't much of a fan of the classic tale but you had a general knowledge of it. The Mad Hater or Queen of Hearts just didn't really float your boat. 

"Hmm, who else is there?" 

A light flickered in your head as you thought about making you and Hitoshi match at least in the animal department.

"What about the White Rabbit?"

"Yeah! Then we would all match!"

The rest of the drive you and Eri planned out the pieces of your costumes. Once at dance you walked in with her, hand in hand and helped to get her dressed in her dance outfit and put her long silver locks up into a nice and neat bun. You stowed her stuff away and walked to the dance room, crouching to her level before she went inside.

"Alright, you're going home with Mai and her mommy today for her slumber party. All your things are in your bag, and if you need absolutely anything you let her mom know and she will call me or Toshi."

"Okay Unnie, you and Sou-Sou will come get me tomorrow?"

"Absolutely, whenever you're ready to come home, we'll be on our way!"

Eri smiled and nodded before hugging your neck tightly. You placed a kiss to her head before standing and coaxed her into the dance room. She smiled and waved goodbye to you and ran to join her little group of friends. You waved back and proceeded to give the other girls mother yours and Hitoshi's numbers and made your way back home, more than ready to have a lazy night with your equally exhausted boyfriend.

Hitoshi struggled to open the door of his home, after many failed attempts of calling your cell or kicking at the barrier since his hands were full, he had to manage by himself knowing that you wouldn't be coming to help him. Once inside he heard it was quiet for the most part, which had him worried until he walked more into the kitchen and could hear a vacuum cleaner running down the hall. His heart was put at ease, realizing that's why you didn't answer him.

The hero placed all the bags of food on the counter, he went all out and got everything the both of you enjoy from your favorite take-out place. You had been working so hard the past few weeks caring for Eri, cleaning the house and cooking in your free time, even if it was already spotless. 

Of course Hitoshi wasn't the type to just sit back and let you do these things, either you'd have them all done before he could get home or when he'd offer his help you'd decline it and suggest he spend time with Eri helping with her homework or just playing games with her. Tonight he wanted to make sure you were satisfied in more ways than one, a belly full of good food, a nice bath to relax your tired body, nice soft and comfy clothes and a whole bunch of doing nothing.

After Hitoshi's arms were empty he slid his shoes off and made his way towards the whirring sound of the cleaning appliance. It led him to Eri's bedroom and he poked his head around the corner of her door frame. The sight his eyes fell upon was very welcomed, making him chuckle and smile. 

Your ear buds were snug in your ears, your phone on the toddlers dresser. As you vacuumed you danced along with the music flowing into your canals, singing to it as well. Your hips swayed in a hypnotic way and you had great footwork as you stepped along with the beat. Your entire body was moving - shoulders, waist, head. (H/c) locks swayed along and your free hand was raised up dancing along too.

"Y se emociona, ya no razona. Y me empieza a cantar, me canta así, así. Bidi bidi bom bom. Bidi bidi bom bom."

Hitoshi's eyes lit up as he heard your voice speaking the Spanish language so flawlessly. He knew you liked many different types of music and knew countless songs word by word, the language barrier being no problem. 

This wasn't the first time the male had caught you like this either, there were multiple times he'd walk in on you dancing and singing in the shower, while baking or cleaning. Each time he'd scare the piss out of you by not making his presence known and you'd stop immediately. It wasn't like you couldn't dance or sing, because you could and so well. The sheer embarrassment of it all though is what would make you end the show. 

This time though, he didn't want that to happen. With the help of his own sounds being muted by your ear buds and vacuum, he was able to sneak inside the room and place himself a close distance behind you. His violet eyes watched your foot work and learned it quickly, they'd also gaze to your ass as you'd roll your hips and stick the plump flesh out.

He panted, seeing you in black leggings and a plain long-sleeve shirt. You didn't have to wear fancy or revealing getup's to get his blood pumping and his tongue hanging from his mouth. 

Hitoshi held his hands up and lined them with your hips as he got ready to step in with you. You sang the song so well and perfectly it's like he could hear the beat of it and easily became in-tune with your movements. Hitoshi took a deep breath and waited for just the right moment and took it. 

One arm wrapped around the front of your waist, pulling your gyrating hips into his, the other grabbed hold of your hand that swayed up in the air. Chuckling, his lips brushed against the skin of your neck, making a shocked gasp escape from your mouth. You hadn't fully registered what was happening as Hitoshi danced with you, moving his hips along with yours and pressing his hard chest to your back.

You stopped vacuuming, letting go of the machine and Hitoshi took the chance to twirl you around and face him. He took a bud from your ear and placed it in his so he could hear the music you listened to. It was lively and fun, his hands took hold of yours, fingers intertwining and holding them in the air as he danced along with you quite well.

"Toshi-ah! What the – you never told me you could even remotely dance!"

Hitoshi twirled you, making you giggle and tugged you towards him and kissed your cheek, "You never asked."

"That's my line you turd!"

Smiling, Hitoshi pulled you into his chest and dipped you, timing it perfectly with the end of the song. He was so pleased with himself and placed sweet kisses up your neck to your cheek before standing you straight up again. His arms wrapped around you and hugged you close, you hummed and hugged back burying your face into him. Hitoshi pulled away and removed the bud from yours and his ear, grabbed your phone and shut off your music.

"Come on sweetness, let's get that thing put back up and get our night started!"

After eating all the food you could until you were miserable, Hitoshi ran a bath and you both bathed and relaxed until you were prunes. Now you laid on the couch together watching a movie. Hitoshi played with your (h/c) hair as you laid on his chest until you lost interest in the film and moved to sit up and straddle his lap. He smiled and touched your warm cheek, drinking in the site of you wearing one of his shirts and looking adorable.

"I didn't ask yet, but how was your last full week at the agency?"

Hitoshi explained his week and you listened closely, your hands playing with his.

The time had come finally for him to start his teaching job at UA that following Monday, you were excited and nervous for him, he was more excited than anything. All week after he'd get off work, he'd stop by the school to set up his classroom and get everything in place and ready. 

You and Eri stopped by one day to bring him dinner and you weren't exactly surprised to see just how much he put into the room. It looked chaotic with all the sketches, posters and prints that hung from the walls but it was somehow like an organized chaotic. Everything flowed together well, it was cozy and very inviting. As he stated before, there was a big print of your picture from Disneyland on one of the walls, along with an equally sized picture of Eri. Hitoshi said he was going to make the classroom his own and make it his own he did.

"You excited for your first day of teaching?" You asked, moving your hands up Hitoshi's chest to wrap around his neck and play with his hair.

"Definitely, it'll be a nice change and new journey. I can't wait to meet my students and see how creative they are."

You smiled at your lover's excitement and leaned forward to kiss his lips softly. Hitoshi hummed as his hands rested on and squeezed your hips. He grinned after you broke away, asking what the kiss was for.

"Just because. I'm really proud of you Hitoshi, you set your sights on something and you go after it."

"Well thank you sweetheart. I'm so lucky to have you," he replied and pulled your lips to his again, giving you a kiss to express his gratitude.

You smiled and leaned down, hugging his chest and pressing your cheek to it. Hitoshi wrapped his own arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

"It's definitely the other way around Toshi."

Shinsou smirked as he rubbed your back and you went back to watching the movie on the tv but suddenly it's like your words brought a past memory up, from that night in the bathtub a few weeks ago. 

"I don't know how much longer I would've lasted in this world." 

Somehow he had forgotten to ask you about that night, about your life and emotional health before moving in with him. Looking down at you, Hitoshi figured now was a good enough time to ask you, you were awake and aware and already in a somewhat mushy and open mood. You never had been the type to really hide anything from him, even before your relationship became official. Hitoshi picked up on clues to your moods and he'd ask you about them, sometimes you'd be hesitant or annoyed with his line of questioning but you always answered him. In the end you'd feel better having him to vent to.

"Hey baby," Hitoshi started off as his hand on your back squeezed, "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

You remained in your place, your hand holding onto Hitoshi's bicep and your thumb brushing his skin under the sleeve of his shirt. "What is it Toshi?"

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you and Eri made that cake, me and you took a bath that night and you were dozing off? You said something to me, something about how if I hadn't come along with my job offer then you didn't know 'how much longer you would've lasted in this world'. Does any of that ring a bell?"

Your brows knitted, trying to recall that nights events. The memories were blurry, you were in a dazed state after all. You remembered Hitoshi bathing you, holding you close and letting you melt into him. When you're extremely tired and trying to fight it off, you tend to blabber a lot about your hearts innermost feelings. More than likely that was the case that night, no denying it.

"I don't remember it exactly, but it sounds like something I would've said."

"What exactly did you mean by that? You weren't planning on hurting yourself ... were you?"

There was a pause before you replied, letting out a long and ragged breath as you thought how to form the words that wanted to fall from your lips. 

You had thoughts before, of how much easier life would be if you didn't have a life at all. You wouldn't have to worry about meeting due dates for bills, wouldn't have to be bothered with your families problems and above all, wouldn't have to see that monster you worked for ever again. Each day going back and forth to that café seemed to just break a piece of your soul off more and more. The looks, whistles and words that you'd hear. 

Your only saving grace being Hitoshi when he'd stop by and grace you with his company. For those few moments or hours, you'd feel that everything was good in the world, that maybe you could make it one more day if it meant seeing that tuft of purple hair and those glistening amethyst eyes one more time.

"Uh – not exactly, I guess? I don't know. I think back then I honestly had just given up on caring about my life Hitoshi. I was in the mindset that if something 'bad' did happen to me then I'd be okay with it. Truthfully, I'm too much of a little bitch to ever off myself, I wanted it to be done for me. I'd go as far as seeking out dangerous situations sometimes."

Hitoshi clenched his jaw, letting your words hit him hard, his hold on you grew tighter. You kissed the inside of his elbow that your face rested in and continued.

"I – I'd purposefully walk through the rough and bad areas of the city on my way home some nights. Hoping someone would think I was good enough to mess with and even hurt. Other times I wouldn't pay attention to my surroundings as I walked crosswalks during heavy traffic. I feel disgusted with myself that I even thought of giving into that man I worked for, then trying to back out of it, hoping he'd get mad enough to lose his control and just ... end me. I almost got what I wished for huh? Except that night, my entire view had changed, I didn't want that situation anymore but still it ended up happening, like some sick joke."

Hitoshi could feel his chest tightening, his heart aching and squeezing. The thought of seeing a story on the news about a girl with your description found behind a dumpster in the slums of Japan had his stomach in knots and made him nauseous. The fact that you sought that out, made it even worse. 

If you truly had gotten everything you wished for back then, Hitoshi would've been guilt ridden for sure. It was his fucking job to read people, how did he not see that dead and hopeless look in your eyes? 

Was it because when he was around, even if you acted annoyed, that you were at your happiest? Just the act of him stopping by and requesting you, was that what kept you going? What about your own family, there's no way they didn't play a part in your life and no way they wouldn't have helped you, had you asked for it.

"(Y/N), what about your family?"

Your shoulders shrugged and you hummed. 

"Well, I distanced myself from them. My parents especially, I just wanted to escape all the – the idiocy. My brother and his wife, their kids, they were another reason I kept going. My mother and father though, nothing happy every comes out of those relationships. Just being let down time and time again, picked over for something better."

You had no family really, except for your sibling and his small family. Those two kids of theirs were your entire world. Then Hitoshi and Eri came along and your world grew. You and brother would go a few weeks without talking to each other, it was normal. They would get busy with the kids and work, and you would be busy with whatever was going on in your life. Always though, you'd check up on each other after too long and pick up from where you left off.

Hitoshi was silent as you explained your sad and chaotic life to him, taking it all in. He never knew any of this went on, had he known, he would've done more, made his move earlier! You finally pulled yourself from his chest, going back to straddling his hips and looking at him. The man looked to be on the verge of tears. 

You pouted and cupped Hitoshi's face, leaning forward and resting your forehead to his.

"I'm sorry Hitoshi. I'm sorry I didn't value you my life like I should've. Sorry for not being strong enough and being a coward, for being stupid and endangering myself. I just, I had enough of it all, I was tired," a shaky breath left your lips, " - so tired. I wasn't going anywhere fast enough for my liking, I had these dreams that seemed so unrealistic and I got discouraged. You saved me though and each day I'm so thankful you walked into that café almost every goddamn day and showed me that smile and kindness. It got to where I lived for it, now wholeheartedly I live all because of you."

Tears flowed from your eyes and from Hitoshi's as well. When he felt a tear drop onto his shirt the hero captured you in his arms holding you as close as humanly possible. Your cries rippled through him as he held your head to him and pet your hair. You apologized over and over, for the smallest and most unnecessary reasons. Hitoshi quietly cried with you, comforting and shushing your un-needed words.

"You have nothing to be sorry for towards me (Y/N). I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner or did something about it. The thought of you suffering alone, not being this person I've been so blessed to see these past few weeks, it fucking kills me. As long as there's a breath in me, I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you're happy. I'll support and back all your dreams like you do for me, I'll always be here for you to vent to and let your frustrations out on, I'll be absolutely any and everything you could ever need. You have to promise me though that if you ever feel yourself slipping, even just the smallest bit, back into that void, you'll let me know."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping your nose and eyes with the backs of your hands and arms. "I promise Hitoshi. Thank you so much, for everything. I love you so much."

Hitoshi closed his eyes and squeezed you tight, placing a kiss to your temple and wiped your eyes. "I love you so much more."

The next few minutes were spent with Hitoshi holding you close, both of you calming down and getting back to normal. Your boyfriend instructed you wrapped around and hold him tight as he got up from the couch, carrying you to the kitchen and sitting you on the counter. He grabbed a clean rag and wet it with warm water, wrung it out then placed himself between your knees. As you sniffled, Hitoshi used the rag to wipe and clean your eyes and face. The warmth of the cloth made you relax and you gave the man an appreciative smile.

"Sorry I kind of ruined the whole vibe tonight Toshi."

"Baby, you didn't ruin anything. As painful as it was, I'm glad we had this talk. How about we play a friendly game of Mario Kart to get the mood back up?"

You chuckled as Hitoshi took your face in his hands, pulling you to look up at him towering over you and placing a kiss to your lips. Your hands hung from his as you kissed back eagerly. His warm and soft lips were helping to bring the warmth back to yours. The taste of spicy curry was still on his tongue that was welcomed into your mouth and lapped at your own muscle, you enjoyed it honestly. Tongues retreated back to their own caves and your lips enveloped each other one last and long time before breaking away.

"You're on Hitoshi, get ready to get your ass kicked!"

A cocky grinned grew on Hitoshi's face and he quickly tossed you over his shoulder, placing a firm smack to your ass as he carried you back into the living room. It stung more than usual being you weren't wearing pants to protect your skin. You playfully bit at the back of his shoulder, making him only bite your thigh in retaliation.

"Ow you fucker! I'd be nice if I were you, I do get to put together your Halloween costume in fact, and I could be evil about it!"

"What costume? I haven't told you what I wanted to be yet."

You smiled as Hitoshi flung you onto the massive couch from over his shoulder. His arms trapped your head and he looked down on you and leaned on the couch.

"You don't get a say in the matter, Eri chose for you and it's great! You see, you'll be going as the Cheshire Cat, ears and all! For once I'll be the one drooling over you in a kitty cat getup!"

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at you and grit his teeth. Your finger reached up and glided under his chin then to bop the tip of his nose as you giggled.

"Cat got your tongue Toshi?"

"Bite me," he snapped back.

Propping up on your elbow, your hand cupped his neck and tugged him down roughly and closer to you, the tip of your tongue licked up the side of his throat and stopped at his jaw where you nipped lightly. "Don't mind if I do!"

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Things Below

Voices. Voices, everywhere. Emily peered out the window from the backseat of the patrol car. Locked in, but free to hear all these confusing voices. She could hear the thoughts of the people the car drove past, picking up fallout from the minds of people on the sidewalk.

“He gave me too much change. Tough shit, sucker. I’m not telling and I’m keeping it. Those stores are insured against this kind of—”

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late; oh my god, I’m gonna lose my job. What about—”

“I forgot to lock the front door. To hell with whatever he’s saying, I’m sure as hell that I forgot—”

“Stop staring, dumbass. Jeeze, I think I need to jack off in a bathroom stall, otherwise she'll—”

Emily didn’t even care about reading the thoughts themselves. She used to figure people to be thinking drivel like this just by looking at them. No, the reporter wanted to see how well she could focus this ability—how well she could control it. As far as she was concerned, she had developed a superpower. With it, she could change the world.

Only one thing gave her reason for pause; gave her a reason to worry. If she wasn’t dreaming—if this all was real—then it meant the demon she had met at the delicate age of 21 had been real, too.

The edges of her vision turned into streaks, stretching into infinity, blending together in a wild blur of colors and shapes. She only caught glimpse of their faces, all unimportant and forgotten within seconds, but their thoughts reached her mind in fragments, like a rain of glass shards falling into a bottomless pit. Clipped, ripped out of context—like switching rapidly through radio stations and never hearing anything out.

Officer Stanton glanced back at Emily through the rearview mirror. Judging by his furrowed brow, he was concerned about her mental well-being. That was when she realized that her head kept bobbing erratically, moving on a constant swivel. She must have looked like a crazy person to this cop.

“Your nose,” he said after clearing his throat and training his eyes on the road again.

Confounded, Emily dabbed her nose, only to find blood on her fingers.

The splitting headache set in. Or it had been there all along, except that it now cranked the dial to eleven in the very second she stopped tuning in to the thoughts of all the passers-by. She muttered a short curse and a emitted a soft, nervous chuckle.

Looked like the superpower came with a little price tag.

But it had already paid off. Under other circumstances, she would have had to go out on a limb in trusting this “Officer Stanton.” Letting him lock her into the backseat like a common suspect or criminal. But what choice did she have? A bomb turned her apartment block into a blazing inferno, she woke up naked in a dumpster, and she had no phone, no money, and was now wearing the borrowed clothes of her friend Maria—who probably had her pegged as crazy and she should never talk to again.

Scanning Stanton’s thoughts had revealed a certain level of surprising purity. Blue-eyed, this shmuck hadn’t seen anywhere near the amount of horrid things Emily had seen in her time as an investigative reporter, looking into human trafficking and pedophile rings. He was as concerned as she was about Detective Tanner, her single only trustworthy contact in the police—who had gone missing.

Reading Stanton’s mind, Emily knew that this cop had his heart in the right place and was going out on a limb himself. She looked and sounded like a crazy person, had no identification, and lied to him first thing upon their meeting. He had a lot to lose himself.

And she couldn’t tell him everything she had witnessed.

“I was drugged and abducted,” she had admitted to him in that first encounter. Only part of the truth she could speak without sounding like she had lost every last marble.

The other part involved what she could only describe as a trip into hell, where she was hounded by an antagonistic demon she dubbed “Stinky Jim.”

Eight years ago, Emily met Stinky Jim for the first time, though she did not have such a name for the demon yet. Had she known it was real, she would have lost her mind. She would have been the Other Emily, the Lost Emily—the one sitting in a padded cell, rocking back and forth, gibbering, and disconnected from reality.

If her recent awakening—the event since when she could read minds and bend space itself—had taught her anything, then it was that reality itself was a strained, malleable concept.

Even human identity crumbled in the face of enlightened scrutiny.

Back when she was 21, working the sixth McJob in a row before she got smart, got her GED, and got into studying to become a reporter; she still hung out in a basement with the rest of the “gang.”

She remembered that night with stunning clarity. The edges on everything remained sharp. The dive in the basement of the home of Rodney’s parents had burned itself into the pages of her memory.

Her birthday—the night Emily turned 21.

Both on the surface and in all things below, she was a different person. Dyed her hair pink, piercings in her ears and on her brow, royal blue lipstick, torn heavy metal T-shirts. Loved ranting about politics, economy, and social justice; but never lifted a finger to do a damned thing about it.

Just like then. They were sitting in Rodney’s parents’ basement, sprawled out over ratty old couches and chairs with the TV set and old video game consoles, smoking weed, and the four boys listening to one of her many unnumbered tirades on LGBTQ+ rights.

“Shut the fuck up if you ain’t gonna do anything ‘bout it,” Chris told her. “Gay Chris,” as he was nicknamed, which didn’t bother him at all once they grew older—he wore the name like a badge of pride.

His voice cracked as he kept the smoke from the bong in his lungs and passed it on to Carlos, and Chris added, “The fuck do you know about any of that, straightie?”

That stunned Emily. That’s when everything clicked for her. When it all changed. Speechless, she silently agreed with him. Everything she knew about the gay experience was theoretical or secondhand, drawing from Chris’ experiences.

But that’s when she found her true calling.

She wouldn’t “shut the fuck up about it.” She refused to, because it would have been against her nature. She would do the legwork, and tell the world. She would relay the truth, even when it hurt, or when it got her and others into hot water. That would be her strength. Her destiny.

It would take till the end of that week and some feverish reading until she figured out that journalism was the way for her to go, but that was the same night when Emily really took the reins of her life into her own hands, and forged the path she now followed with furious determination.

Carlos chortled, then took a long toke from the bong before passing it on to Rodney. Emily remained silent.

With her most recent rant dead in the water, and the only active water being the one making the bubbling and churning sounds whenever anybody inhaled another hit from the bong, her thoughts drifted. The night of her birthday dragged on like many others in this very place, the matter of her birthday only standing out by the amount of weed they would have burned through by the end of the night.

She loved these boys like her brothers. Loved the countless nights they spent together, shooting the shit about their work, their messes of what could barely be described as love lives, playing video games together on the couch in this same basement and getting into swearing matches more heated than the actual gameplay, going to metal concerts together, or talking about philosophy and spirituality into the ungodliest hours of the morning.

Some time around 2 AM, Carlos had already passed out. He snored in the corner with a pile of empty potato chip bags and plastic bottles piled onto him like a work of art. Chris had gone home to get some sleep because of an early shift the next day. Only Jimmy, Rodney, and Emily remained. Stabbing Westward’s Ungod was playing back from the old iPod in a soft volume.

Rodney climbed back onto the couch and slid onto the cushions between Jimmy and Emily. His eyes were bloodshot from all the beer and weed they had been kicking back and he gave her a stupid grin.

“Got something special for this special occasion,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.

He unfolded his fingers and presented three little things. To Emily, they looked like stamps or pieces of perforated cardboard just resting on his palm, each of them marked with a pastel yellow smiley face.

Before either Emily or Jimmy could ask, Rodney said, “LSD, hoes. Lucy seeing diamonds—in the sky—or something. So, uh, anyway, how about we go on a real trip?”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed and Emily snickered at him. Buff Jimmy over there, the racing car enthusiast who loved tuning cars and speeding in them, accustomed to acting like the biggest badass of their little gang, was now all skeptical and intimidated by this harmless-looking drug resting in Rodney’s hand.

“Fuck it, why not?” Emily asked.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Jimmy predictably said. “Y'know what, you should too. Also, I should get back home and get some sleep.”

Jimmy scrambled to leave, looking half asleep already, and muttered a goodbye to Carlos who continued to snore away, oblivious to everything going on now.

“Pussy,” Emily called out after Jimmy just before he flipped her off and closed the basement door behind himself.

Rodney and Emily got a good laugh out of Jimmy’s departure. Then Rodney turned his head and waggled his eyebrows at her, holding out the three slips of LSD still.

“I could put one back, or one of us takes two of ‘em,” he said, letting his voice rise sharply towards the end in challenge.

Emily squinted and then snatched two of them out of his palm.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess,” she said, grinning with him in challenge, wondering if he wasn’t going to chicken out himself.

She stuck her tongue out at him like she was about to lick Rodney’s face, then placed the two pieces of LSD on her tongue and retracted it. Swallowed.

“How long?” she asked.

“My dick?”

“Fuck you.”

Rodney cackled and told her it would take two hours. They settled on re-watching Scream—one of Emily’s favorite horror movies. They talked over the flick, as usual. Laughed as Carlos turned over in his sleep at one point, knocking over the pyramid of junk piled onto him without even waking up, and they both wondered loudly if they weren’t going to have a horror trip if they watched a horror movie while tripping on LSD, like the idiots they were.

The movie ended and Emily still couldn’t tell if the drug was having any effect on her system.

“Get me another beer, beer bitch,” she told Rodney, softly kicking him in his thigh while she drooped lazily over the other half of the couch.

He got up and went to the small fridge in the corner of the room. She blinked and wondered why he did that without giving her any lip. Even on her birthday, Rodney wasn’t wont to do what she told him to. Returning to her, he uncapped the bottle of beer and held it out to her.

She took it and looked at him in disbelief. Rodney himself looked befuddled. He blinked and looked around. Was the LSD finally kicking in for him? If so, why was it taking so long for her?

If him tripping balls meant he was a compliant little sheep, she was going to have some fun with this. She pulled out her flip phone and started recording a grainy video on the device.

“Hey, Rodney, why don’t you stand on one foot and spin around in a circle for the audience,” she told him, biting her lip and sensing that he would do exactly as told.

And he did. Almost stumbling over the coffee table and falling onto his ass in the process, he did exactly that. Emily covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She stared at him through the display of her phone, making sure to capture his dumbfounded facial expressions.

“Rodney, tell the world how much of a little skanky whore you are,” she said, mouth agape with a grin so wide that it almost hurt her cheeks.

“I’m such a little skanky whore that I’d eat Paris Hilton’s ass with whipped cream and a cherry on top,” he said, slurring it out as if his consciousness slipped farther away into a trance or delirium with each additional word.

Emily burst out laughing, “You will never live this one down when the others see the video, dipshit.”

Yet something crept up behind Emily. A dark, foreboding sense of something alien and sinister. It only reached the back of her mind with a delay: she heard Rodney’s thoughts before he did or said anything that she told him to. Or rather, she projected her self into him and he complied, pliable like a piece of wet cardboard.

These thoughts made more sense now, in the present, when she knew she could read minds. But back then, she had chalked it up to the acid trip. The day after, she would go back to her normal life, letting the details fade away into oblivion, dismissing them as nightmarish nonsense.

Except for the knock on the door.

Not the door leading in and out of the basement, but the door to the boiler room. A room where nobody should have been inside.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she stared at it, wide-eyed and terrified. Rodney followed her gaze because she willed him to pay just as much attention to it.

Knock knock. Again.

Or rather: THUMP THUMP. Deep, bass. Menacing.

“Rodney, go check on the clown hiding in there,” Emily told Rodney, not even thinking things through. She couldn’t even chalk it up to the booze and drugs.

All she knew was that she feared whatever awaited behind that door.

Like sleepwalking, Rodney approached the boiler room door. Twisted the knob. Opened it.

A soft red light glowed, engulfing him. A light out of this world. It flickered, danced—like flames. But no heat or fire awaited beyond the door. Only madness.

Emily walked there herself, intrigued by the mysterious light. Her whole body tingled with dread, yet she could not help but approach. She knew deep down, lurking beneath the surface of her thoughts, that something evil awaited there. Something that would drive her insane. She didn’t need to approach, should have turned and fled from Rodney’s basement. But curiosity won out over common sense.

She stood next to him and peered into the place beyond the door.

There was no boiler room there. Instead of the dingy little room with the big cylindrical something, some old plastic crates, and a bunch of pipes and valves—a flight of stairs stretched down, winding around a curve. The fiery red light flickered from the depths, beckoning her.

“Rodney, go lie down and sleep.”

He acknowledged her order, not speaking the affirmation out loud but just thinking it. Emily, however, didn’t even register how the thought had reached her like a spoken word. She could taste his dread riding on the back of those thoughts—salty, smooth, bitter, clamping his throat shut and cutting his breath short.

But her eyes fixated on these stairs. Made of obsidian, covered in strange, indecipherable symbols, bearing names on each step. Names of the lost and the damned. The forgotten and the famous. She could not read them, but she knew the names were important. She would read them again one day, but that was not this day.

Rodney laid down onto the couch and fell asleep within an instant. His thoughts turned into a soup of drugged dreaming and Emily shut them out, probing for any presence at the bottom of those stairs. To see if anything dwelt there, any things below.

“Come on down and find out,” something replied. Not in words, but thoughts. Smoky, crackling like wood in a fireplace, with embers rising into a dark and starry night.

Emily took her first step down those stairs in this other-space. Then another. And another. She tread down this path, and the stairwell narrowed as it twisted and turned on her way downward. She burned with curiosity to find what things lay hidden in the depths.

The door slammed shut behind her and something laughed. Something in a deep, bellowing baritone, like a monster straight out of some horror movie. The laughter died down into a chortle, egging her on to turn around and see for herself.

Fear overtook her and prevented her from turning to behold this demon. This madness. She knew it was there, right behind her. Fetid breath rhythmically struck the exposed skin of the back of her neck. The thing was huge, like a man two heads taller than her.

“If you don’t have the balls to look at me, then you better keep movin’, little girl,” the demon spoke to her, cackling some more. The words carried the air of a threat. “What are you afraid of finding down here, anyway?”

More laughter. Sinister. Knowing. Knowing her deepest, darkest desires, and secrets she would learn in the future

Her heart thumped against her chest, pounding so hard that it threatened to explode out of her rib cage any minute now. And whether she was tripping on the LSD, having an overly vivid nightmare, or this was indeed real, she dreaded turning around and instead continued on her descent.

“Welcome to the maze, Emily,” the thing’s voice crackled. Flames licked from its voice and the biting smells of charcoal smoke and sulfur filled her nostrils, stuck to her tongue. Way too real to be imagined, yet even now, she struggled to explain how this experience or even this memory could be real.

Because right now, she sat on the backseat of Officer Stanton’s car. But the vivid recollection of this memory sliced through time and space, reaching her in the now. The demonic presence still lingered, lurking behind her, occupying the space in her mind.

The unwanted guest renting one of the rooms in the mindscape of Motel Emily. The neon sign of vacancy flickered unsteadily.

Where the stairs wound down further, she reached a door branching out to the side. Or rather, the word “door” didn’t really cut it. It was a stone portal, covered in more symbols or otherworldly runes.

Without thinking, she pushed it open, hoping to find escape from this place, praying to reach Rodney’s basement again, or appear back in Stanton’s patrol car. The past and the present started bleeding together. Had she really experienced all this, back then? Was this the madness, overtaking her mind, surfacing now, tainting the present and overwriting reality?

“This is as real as it gets, bitch,” the demon said, cackling yet more.

The pink-haired Emily celebrating her 21st birthday and tripping on LSD didn’t understand what she saw beyond the portal once she strained herself, putting her legs and back into pushing it open, her nerves fraying with each inch accompanied by the sounds of stone grinding against stone.

Beyond that portal, she saw another Emily, stripped half-naked, handcuffed to a curtain rack, with some man with a painted face sliding a knife into her exposed back. Bodies of the dead and the dying littered the dark and ruined room of some derelict house in that place and Helpless Emily screamed in agony.

Younger Emily gasped and backed away from this scene of carnage and despair, recalling a memory of something yet to come, which Present Emily knew already and remembered as the time the Grinning Man came close to killing her.

The man with the knife, with the face painted to display a horrid grin over a face of cold and sociopathic indifference, turned to look at Younger Emily. She pulled, tugged at the portal with all her might, desperate to close it before something worse happened.

The Grinning Man, that serial killer, turned from Tortured Emily. He tilted his head, staring into the stone portal in disbelief, studying its frame. Before Younger Emily succeeded in fully shutting the portal, he approached with swift steps, ready to pass from one place into another.

But she slammed it shut just in time, just before she could decipher shouts from beyond the portal.

Worse, the demon remained. Right behind her.

She dared not turn around completely to look upon its horrid visage, but glimpsed it from the corner of her eye. Red like a devil, covered in spikes and horns and smiling at her with a maw lined with rows and rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. Blackened, knife-shaped claws opening and closing in anticipation, ready to rip her to shreds if she looked at it for too long.

It cackled again and Emily continued down the stairs.

“That was you,” it said. “That’ll be you, in the future. You fuck-up. Nobody’s proud of you, Emily. Accomplishing nothing of value. Only watching people die in squalor and misery. You are nothing but a worthless witness. A voyeur in a voyeuristic world.”

Hearing the demon speak in such a modern vernacular and imagining to be such a clichéd presence clashed in her mind, and she almost turned to confront the creature. But she read its thoughts and they mirrored her own.

The first time she realized that turning only meant embracing the madness, and ending up in that padded little room, all alone, locked inside her head with drugs—and not the sort that Younger Emily found fun.

Picking up the pace, she continued down the winding, hellish stairs. The walls drew closer together with each step, never moving, but converging in angles that made her descent more claustrophobic with each passing moment.

Present Emily knew she had to break free of this memory, because it was bleeding into reality. The demon was taking hold. She dabbed more blood from her nose and barely perceived the world outside the patrol car, rolling by. This memory was real, made even more real through recent realizations, and recalling it now was rendering it even more visceral than ever before. The knowledge of Present Emily collided with the memories of Younger Emily and they coalesced. They coagulated.

She passed by another stone portal, almost screaming at what she felt from behind it. Younger Emily did not know what awaited there, but Present Emily did not want to see it, and the two of them refused to push it open and look inside.

“Yeah, you keep walkin’, you hypocritical asshole. Eager to discover the truth, but just another chickenshit,” the demon said.

Instead of the inevitable laughter she expected to ensue, the demon growled with anger, reflecting a rage welling in her bowels, only overshadowed by the terror and fear now gripping her heart and driving her down the stairs, faster and faster.

“He’s dead, Emily. Julian’s dead, and it’s all your fault,” the thing snarled.

Its hoofed feet thundered down the steps behind her, keeping pace with ease, the hulking presence chasing her down deeper into this pit of insanity.

“No,” she finally dared to reply, but the demon mimicked her word, mocking her. Then she repeated herself, “No, that’s not my fault. Not like with the others. Not everything is my fault.”

“Maybe not directly, but what if you never entered his life? What if he hadn’t been on that parking lot, that day? He might not have had some crazy stalker cave his skull in with a two-by-four. So maybe it’s still your fault,” the demon growled.

“Shut up,” she said. Then screamed it. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up if you’re not going to do anything about it, right, Emily?”

The demon’s voice reached a fever pitch and now chased her. She ran, taking multiple steps down the well in strides, pushing through the narrow pathways, wasting no time to wonder how the demon’s sheer mass could fit through here behind her. The stink of fear erupted from her pores in a sheen of sweat, the heat of this hell engulfing her, and the stench of burning flesh rising from the depths.

The stone walls wriggled. They were not made of obsidian anymore, but worms. Millions and millions of pitch-black worms, things that did not belong in reality but were all too real. Slippery, alive. Writhing, as the mass reached out to her like walls of tiny fingers covered in myriads of chomping little mouths, provoking a shriek of terror to escape Emily’s throat, and the demon to laugh its sadistic laugh at her.

“Run, Emily! Run away, you disgusting fucking coward!” The demon spoke in many voices, those of Chris, her father when he slapped her cheek, the monster on her heels, and even herself. They all blended together. One of many, many in one.

There it was again: rocking back and forth, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. White, padded walls all around.

Was she truly there? Was this even real? Was her entire life just a lie? Figments of her imagination, trying to make sense where none was to be made?

The stairs split into different pathways and Emily knew what to do. Present Emily wiped more blood from her nose and stared at her bloodied fingers in disbelief. Younger Emily had discovered her destiny, was glimpsing horrors from her future. Of the three possible ways to go, she squeezed into the narrowest one, screaming silently as she felt the wriggling mass of worms engulf her with the heat of a thousand fires, causing her skin to blister and painfully peel back. She clenched her teeth shut and feared the things entering through any orifices but pushed forward.

She had to live. She had to fulfill her destiny. She remembered all the people who died, or rather, those who would die.

She could change the world, but only if she didn’t give in now.

“Shit, I’ll give you a tissue once we reach the precinct,” Stanton said. His offer; his words helped, centering her in the now. The words he spoke bled through into that dark place where Younger Emily found herself, an unknown voice from a stranger from another world, or another time, piercing the veils of different realities, and guiding her through this horrid darkness.

The demon grunted and cackled and choked on the worms entering its maw as it squeezed itself through the narrow, suffocating passageway, following Emily without fail. It clawed its way forth, causing a cacophony of disgusting squelching noises, and sensations that reminded her of bones snapping to the point of sharp edges bursting through skin and protruding from human flesh, and teeth gnashing on exposed innards with blood spurting out, gushing, and the reek of feces in the air.

Her eyes long clamped shut, she dared not breathe but had to, and felt first worms trying to wriggle their way into her mouth. She sputtered and spat them out with an angry scream, controlling the rage that drove her, clawing her own way forth, mimicking the demon’s motions. Or it mimicked hers.

The stairs went upwards and she ascended, pulling her way through the narrowest spot of these walls of worms, fleeing up the stairs. The demon tumbled, but then continued giving chase on all fours, like the beast that it truly was. Like the beast in the back of her head, the madness always just a few steps behind her.

“You can’t get away from me,” Stinky Jim cackled, only to abruptly choke on his words, gagging and coughing up more worms. Through rows of bloodied, gritted teeth, he said, “I am always with you, Emily.”

She tripped, fell, scraped her hands on the jagged edges of the obsidian steps, right in front of one of the names inscribed upon the stairs: Xerxes. Younger Emily blinked, did not quite register what it meant until years later, first dismissing this memory and experience as a bad trip, induced by popping too much acid and being tired out of her mind.

Screams echoed through the infinite, infernal stairwell, bouncing off the walls and curdling her blood until she realized: the screams were her own. The demon’s growling matched them, blended in with them, and she screamed in pain as claws dug into her back, lifting her onto her feet and pushing her up a few steps until she ran on yet farther, stumbling forth and upwards, ever away from the madness that followed her wherever she went, ever away from the things below.

The things below the surface of her mind. The horrid things she pushed deep down to still her mind; the darkness she drowned in whiskey and cigarettes even as she grew older.

This could have been her awakening but she skidded right past it. It wouldn’t be for years until she had her world turned upside down. Never realizing the power she held. The demon followed closely, keeping her blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing like fire in her veins.

She reached a stone portal at the top of the stairs and pushed it open. Instead of meeting resistance and stone grinding upon stone once more, it swung open with ease. She burst right through it and stumbled again.

Catching her breath, wheezing, lungs screaming but only pained sounds emerging from her lips, she looked around. There was no demon behind her. Younger Emily, with her pink hair, and her piercings, and completely stoned, stood in Rodney’s basement. Behind her was only the door to the boiler room.

Rodney slept on the couch, curled up into a fetal position. Carlos slept on the chair, sprawled out, still blanketed by some empty plastic wrappers. Static on the TV screen.

Emily ripped the door to the boiler room open, needing to know if that had been real, but there was no hellish stairwell behind it. Just the regular old boiler room that it should have been, reeking of oil.

The demon’s laughter echoed in her mind. She checked the time, noting how many hours had passed and chalking this whole experience up to a bad acid trip after all. She didn’t go home, afraid to be followed or stalked out there in the dark and cold and wet autumn streets, all alone.

Even though she found blood when she wiped her nose, Younger Emily figured it fit. Demons and hell weren’t real. She didn’t have the power to control minds or enter strange otherworlds.

She curled up on the end of the couch, wrapping herself in a smelly old blanket that Rodney should have washed weeks ago. Although she thought the nightmarish imagery and things she had just witnessed would keep her up until the other two boys woke up, exhaustion dragged her into the realm of sleep within minutes.

Emily sat in the back of Stanton’s car, finally escaping from this memory. She looked out the window, at the people in the streets of New Haven. Instead of reading their minds, scanning their thoughts, and testing the limitations of her newfound powers, she decided against any of that.

“I’m still here,” the demon said—Stinky Jim. He sat right next to her, just out of sight.

The fear welled up again, churning in her guts as if the monster gripped her stomach with a claw and twisted.

“I’ll always be with you, Emily. Just one step behind. You ever want the security of that little padded room—to surrender all responsibility, let the world sort itself out and sink into darkness while you drool in the corner—you just turn back. Let me take the wheel,” Stinky Jim said. He cackled again, showing no hint of mercy.

“Or you keep going deeper down, scratchin’ at those wriggling walls, and dive into those lakes of blood and shit and fire. Find out what’s beneath the surface. Drown in the secrets of those things below, or spit ‘em out and curse the world with your wretched knowledge.”

More cackling.

Emily clamped her eyes shut. She willed Stinky Jim to shut up.

She centered herself. Pushed away every thought. Blocked it all out—she had gained that much control over it now. Focused.

Breathed.

Pushed the demon deep down, where it would lurk. And wait.

With the things below.

—Submitted by Wratts

[rueitae]

Shackled

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

~~~~~

“No luck?” Lance airs dejectedly, shoulders slumped. 

The iron remains firmly locked around his wrist… as well as the one on Pidge’s wrist, with the chain connecting them just as solid as when he’d checked when they woke. 

Pidge huffs and pulls, tugging him towards her a couple steps. “I’d be nice if I had some tools. Doesn’t look like we’re going to find anything more high tech than a stick out here.”

A forest of purple trees with white flowers both above and at ground level cover the area as far as Lance can see. “What the quiznak is this place?” he wonders, straining his neck towards the canopy. 

“I don’t know,” Pidge admits, her tone carrying a hint of early panic to it. “I have a bad feeling we haven’t seen the last of that bounty hunter, though.”

Lance gulps hard. They’d failed in their first attempt to escape their captor - the last thing Lance remembers is that wickedly evil grin before succumbing to unconsciousness. Waking up in this forest was the last thing he’d expected, though preferable to that awful dark holding cell. 

But he’s so grateful that he and Pidge aren’t separated, even if its literal. He’d be in a worried panic over her well being otherwise. 

“I’ve played video games like this,” Lance says with sickening feeling in his stomach. And watched movies too, where humans become the prey. “We should find some high ground, and something we can use as a weapon.”

Pidge’s eyes flicker with understanding. “What do you think he’ll do to us when he catches us?”

“That depends on how entertaining the two of you are.” 

Lance yelps at the suddenness of the bounty hunter’s voice, taken off guard - as is Pidge by her cry of surprise. His foot slips on the dewy ground and the next moment the bones in his butt tingle in pain when he lands squarely on the earth, his back finding a nearby tree trunk.

No sooner than Lance opens his eyes he sees Pidge falling right into him. Their screams match as he haphazardly catches her and she joins him on the ground, head in his chest.

They are still, of course, connected by the shackles. 

Static. “If that is the best the Paladins of Voltron can offer then you’ll hardly be worth the trophy I seek.”

“Then let us go, you jerk!” Pidge growls to the sky, though her free hand remains on his breastplate. It’s hard to tell where the bounty hunter’s voice is coming from when they can’t see head or tail of him (literally - he has the bushiest tail that Lance mistakenly thought was an actual dog. How wrong he’d turned out to be).

A hardened chuckle fills the air. “If you do not provide me a thrilling chase, I will hand one of you over to the Galra and kill the other. Keep me entertained and I’ll keep you both alive for myself. The stock of two chosen by Voltron Lions would make for an excellent apprentice.”

All color has drained from Pidge’s face. Lance’s own heart beats irregularly in horror, gut twisting unpleasantly. Had… had he just heard that right? He wanted their kid? A kid of himself and Pidge?

An actual honest to goodness human child? Pidge would be a mom. The mother of his kid. 

He and Pidge would…

There was no need to unpack all of this right now. First thing first - ensure both of them survive.

“You’re s-sick,” Lance manages to say, though just the though has his brain absolutely fried.

“I’m thinking of my future,”  the bounty hunter tells him. “I take my opportunities when I can get them.” A pause. “I am giving the two of you a twenty-four varga head start, then I land and begin the hunt. Survive for another twenty-four varga after that and I’ll change from my blaster to my stunner. Outwit me for an additional three quintants or longer and you’ll keep your lives and become my slaves.”

Lance gulps deeply. “I don’t suppose there’s any situation where you’ll just… let us go?”

The bounty hunter breaks into uproarious laughter.

“I personally hope you put up a good hunt, I look forward to the pleasure of your servitude.

“Your time begins now.”

The speaker switches to static briefly, and then silence. Otherwise, there is no indication of their start time. 

Lance takes in a deep breath. There was still a good chance the rest of the team could pick up the breadcrumb trail of what happened to them. Still, they’d have to play this sick game in the meantime so the team could hope to find them alive. 

The single sun is right above them and Lance decides its noon. “Okay, so at least we can tell time.”

Then it occurs to Lance that they don’t know what planet they are on, much less if it has a twenty-four varga day. He waits for Pidge to correct him… but it never comes. 

She shakes in his arms, staring at the ground. 

The bounty hunter’s threat must have really gotten to her. 

“I’m not going to let him do anything to you,” Lance promises swiftly. “We just have to survive until the others find us. Hunk is nosy enough I bet he’ll find the antique tech store we were in and Keith will get answers.”

A deep breath. “I know,” she says curtly. “It’s not life or death I’m worried about - that’s normal.” The sarcasm laced in her tone makes Lance bite his lip. It shouldn’t be normal. “It’s… what he wants to use us for.”

“Like I said, I’m not going to let him touch you,” Lance insists.

Pidge turns to him, her gaze hard. “It’s not him I’m worried about.” She shuts her eyes tightly, as she takes shuttered breaths, almost scared to speak. “I know you’d never hurt me intentionally but…”

His brain shatters into a million pieces and firey anger rises in his belly. “It’s not coming to that,” he says. “It isn’t - we’re not - “ Lance can’t find the words to describe how he feels. He’ll do everything he can to protect her - as she would him. “He can’t make us--”

“It’s an eventuality we still have to prepare for,” Pidge interrupts, more stone faced this time. She stands clumsily, dragging him up with her. “We have to survive at least five quintants. Better find some shelter. Food and water would be nice too.”

Lance’s stomach rumbles in agreement but his mind is elsewhere as they start walking side by side. “Look, what he said is bothering me too. You’re smart and we can both act pretty good, we can fake it if it comes to that.”

Pidge stops, turning to face him on a dime, rage etched on her features. “And if he sees right through us? We’d actually have to... I don’t want to be scared of you, Lance, I love you!”

Hazel eyes widen, realizing she’s revealed the most secret of secrets. Even as stunned as he is, Lance instinctively knows this is something that he was never intended to hear. 

And his first reaction is that he’s bothered by the fact he was never supposed to know.

Cat out of the bag, Pidge’s lip wobbles, and she takes in a deep breath before continuing. “Maybe someday I’d like to be married and have kids and I admit sometimes I entertain the thought that it would be with you,” she rambles quickly, refusing to look at him - until now, with bright and earnest eyes. “But you’re my friend and my teammate first - I don’t want… something like this to spoil that.”

Lance isn’t sure what to even say. He’s flustered and flattered at the same time that Pidge ponders a future in which he features prominently, as his burning cheeks inform him. He doesn’t hate the idea of Pidge’s dreams, in fact he warms up to it more with each passing tick. 

He takes her shaking hand, at least to show her he doesn’t hate her or something. 

He still can’t think of anything to say. So he repeats what he’s already said.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” he begins, and words finally start to come as his heart rate accelerates. “Maybe there’s a day you do become an awesome mom and maybe I’m there too, but right now? I’m not going to let that jerk get any sick satisfaction out of us. I swear, Pidge.” He squeezes her hand. “Do you trust me?”

There are tears in her eyes, but no longer is she anger, just tired looking as she squeezes his hand back. “I trust you with my life.”

“And I trust you with mine,” he continues, breaking into his stupidest grin that he knows she secretly adores. It only widens when he gets the appropriate twitch upwards from Pidge’s mouth, the beginnings of a smile. “And I know you’re going to figure out a way to get us out of here anyway so there’s no use worrying about it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Pidge sniffs and wipes the tears from her eyes. “First we need a plan. Want to climb a tree and see what we can see?”

“Now we’re talking! I bet there’s a world record for tree climbing while stuck to another person - like a three legged race! Except… this is a three armed climb?”

Pidge bursts out laughing. It relaxes Lance to see her not as terrified. They can do this if they work together. “Too bad we’re not on Earth, they’ll never count it.”

“Then we’ll have to make a universe-wide record!” Lance says in determination. “Come on, Pidge, let’s do this.”

When they eventually make it all the way up the tree, even cuffed together, and locate an area of gently rolling hills and what looks like a stream, Lance knows they’ll make it.

He’ll make sure they do, because he decides he wants to find out if he really might be part of Pidge’s future.

[queen-scribbles]

Survivors

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 101: Recount. This wound up less “ridiculous” and more “alternate view of one of my muses”, but it was still fun to write, so yay?

---

Collected accounts of the “Blue Witch”, recorded by scholars in a variety of locations around the Deadfire, for interested parties.

~~~

“You dunno the Blue Witch? Then thank your lucky stars, mate, an’ steer clear a’ th’ slave trade t’ keep it that way. She’s what scared me straight, y’know. Crookspur was a good gig, lotsa money, no rules ‘side respect th’ captain, the whole ocean was our huntin’ ground. Then one day we see this little ship, pretty thing, looked like easy pickin’s. She was flying colors we didn’t recognize; green an’ yella wit’ an eye and a castle, and her stern named her Mercy.

“*snort* Mercy’s the farthest thing from what we found, I’ll tell ya that right off. They was firin’ at us ‘fore we were even close, got our Cap’n right pissed. She decided against cripplin’ them first, drove us in close t’ take the ship. Ondra as my witness the woman was a fool. Usher keep her, but it was the biggest mistake of her life. My wildest nightmares never prepared me to lay eyes on kith like this. If y’ can even call ‘em all kith.

“Th’ whole crew was armed to their blazin’ teeth, which we’re used to. A sailor with a sword or wizard spitting their spell ain’t enough t’ make our blood run cold. They’re all the same once y’ clap irons on ‘em and break ‘em and stand ‘em on a block for the highest bidder.

“But you know what we ain’t used to?” He thumps his drink emphatically against the table. “Women with feathers and burnin’ swords who fight like Magran Herself. Or a copperfuckin’ shark with legs that was ten feet all if it was an inch. Ondra as my witness, boys, call me crazy, but it was standin’ in front of me surely as you are now. But none of ‘em compared to the blue witch. I ain’t never seen a thing like her before, and I pray to all the gods I never do again. Almost as tall as her walkin’ shark--musta been some kinda thrall, with how well it followed her biddin’--eyes of blue fire, strange glowin’ tattoos all over, no armor. She did nothin’ but look at us and I felt her screamin’ in my damned head, just pure wordless rage that made me wanna jump the blazin’ rail. Mighta gone better for me if I had; Cap’n weren’t in any shape to punish by then.

“Fools we were, we thought we could take ‘em. Thought they’d fetch a price’t’ make up our losses. The feathered warrior, the shark outta water, the blue witch. The crewmates I didn’t see fall to blade, bullets, or spells threw themselves off the ship like their minds weren’t their own t’ drown or be crushed against one a’ the ships. Only reason I’m alive is they thought I weren’t. See these burns, my whole damned chest? Her shark’s doin’. Aye, y’heard me. The fucker can walk, ain’t a surprise it has spells, too. Took out my mate Dren with a rock spike almost big as his head, then got me with fire that struck from the sky. Dunno why I ain’t dead, musta fell in th’ water when I blacked out, woke up on one of the islands, bein’ tended by the locals. They were jabberin’ ‘bout someone they called ‘Watcher’ wipin’ out the nearby slaver presence, so’s I figured best not tell ‘em what I was. Wasn’t plannin’ to do it no more anyway. Scrambled as my head was, I could still hear the blue witch’s screamin’ rage in the back of it. Way she fought, it was clear wipin’ us out was personal for her, an’ if slavin’ might mean runnin’ afoul of her again, with her shark and other creatures followin’ her I wanted no blazin’ part of it no more. I got lucky once, no need to push my fortunes like that. I’d sooner live landlocked in a hovel than worry she was after me.”

~overheard in the Wild Mare, attributed to Honest Joel, storyteller and merchant

~~~

“I was there when the blue witch hit our fortress out near Ori o Koiki.  The kith following her weren’t nothin’ special; elves and folk, though they did their share layin’ waste to our holdin’s, but that blue-skinned witch... Ah, she was a special kinda terrifying. You’ve heard the stories, yeah? Burnin’ eyes, tattoos what glow, shreds yer mind if ya meet her gaze? All true. But don’t think witch tricks are all there is to her, no. Y’see here the crooked set of me jaw?  That’d be her doing. Froze me with a look, cracked me ‘cross the face with her hammer, knocked me clean off the fortress ramparts. Only lived ‘cause I landed atop a pair of mates cheated me at cards the night b’fore, an’ serves ‘em right. Better their necks than mine. I’ll tell you one thing for sure an’ simple, boys: you ever see a woman with skin like sapphire and eyes that could burn right through a man, or glimpse a ship called Mercy, you pray to all the gods who ever helped you and you beg your captain on bended knee if you hafta to steer well clear of her, b’cause I swear by my good eye it’s the only way you’ll see another sunrise. The blue witch don’t spare our kind. Not on purpose.”

~”Half-face” Morrisey, Harbormaster of Port Maje

~~~

“She ain’t no witch by my reckoning. No, she’s some poor sod what perished in the trade and come back as a ghost for her revenge. It’s what I’d do. And her crew must be more a’ the same. Where else d’you find an elf with two voices or a woman part bird or a shark with fuckin’ legs? They’re nightmares from the Beyond itself--if they exist at all.”

~Captain Pegi of the independent slaving vessel Tiama, overheard with her crew while stopped to resupply. She was found three days later by a passing merchant ship, adrift, alone, and barely alive, muttering about the vengeance of the dead.

~~~

[the next several pages are heavily damaged by water, slick with fungus or greenish mold, and only pieces of the accounts they contain are still legible. The tone is the same, however--the blue witch and her fantastical, impossible collection of followers devastating slaver ships and outposts, leaving no survivors save the ones lucky enough to hide or smart enough to play dead. At the very end, however, one account remains mostly undamaged.]

~~~

“The Blue With? Ekera, I’ve seen her. She was the answer to nigh on three years begging the gods would save me from those Crookspur bastards. They worked m’ brother to death, y’know. Woulda like as not done the same to me if their dreaded Blue Witch hadn’t shown up an’ killed ‘em all. Magran’s eyes, but she was a sight to watch. Washed through like the damned tide, her and her friends, didn’t leave a one of ‘em standin’. Some of her friends had flashier spells; fire and lightnin’ and such, but she just had t’ look at kith and they’d fall to their knees or turn tail to run. Those ones didn’t get far, she saw to that.

“[a paragraph is illegible, before] Once she’d introduced ‘em all to the Usher, she took care of us. Freed every man, woman, and child from the chains that held us, from our cells. Locks she couldn’t find keys to got broke open.

“She may’ve been a witch to slavers and the like, but to us she was more savior than anything. And one look at her wrists’ll tell ya why on both counts. I hope every slaver in the damn Deadfire shits themselves at the thought of her, but there are many kith, like me, have lives back thanks to the ‘blue witch’ who freed us and fed us and took us to safety. May her legend live on.”

~Jesse, sailor on the Recurrent

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

The original intention was to see how unbelievably I could have the poor, poor slavers Emiri went up against describe her and her friends, but it turned into just them being terrified out of their damn minds. Which... is fair. They should be terrified of her. She would be very pleased. (And she would laugh, very hard, at that last account; someone viewing her as deliverance sent by the gods when they never answered her prayers for rescue).

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Big Spook (Peter Parker x Reader - Finale)

Synopsis: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves… but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.

Tags: Aged Up!Character, College AU, Established relationship, Whump, Angst. Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.

Word count: 5.1k

Part 5 <<<

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) didn’t believe her own eyes, and by the time the initial shock wore off, the room was stormed by nurses who came to check on a very confused Peter. They made him lie down again and he resisted at first, trying to keep eye-contact with (Y/N) who still stood there like a statue.

What was wrong with her? She shook her head and quickly went to stand at the end of the bed so she wouldn’t be in the nurses’ way. They asked Peter questions, pointed a small light into his eyes to check his pupillary response, scribbled down unreadable notes and checked the machines he was connected to.

“What’s happened?” Peter asked again, panic slowly rising in his chest as so many people flooded into the white room and began to touch him. “(Y/N)! What’s going on? Are we at the hospital?”

“You’re at Stark Tower, kid,” answered the oldest nurse, flipping through his file. “You gave that one a real scare, you know? You ought to be more careful out there.”

She shook her head with a disapproving pout on her lips, as if she had had enough with patching up reckless superheroes who didn’t think twice before jumping headfirst into a fight. Peter’s frown deepened.

The nurses took the needles out of Peter’s arms as he would no longer need to be fed and hydrated through IV now that he was awake, and after a last few health checks, they left as quickly as they came. But not before the older nurse told Peter to stay on this bed until morning when the doctor came in, or so help her…

Once alone, (Y/N) and Peter stared each other down, eyes wide with confusion and emotion. It was clear that Peter had many, many questions, and she just stood there like a mute idiot.

“Peter,” she said, a wave of relief slowly hitting her now that she could once again stare into his eyes.

Yet another sob threatened to come out of her mouth, so she clasped her hand on her lips, trying to keep it in but doing a terrible job. Her eyes watered up so quickly she didn’t even have the time to try and swallow the tears.

Her feet finally moved and she found herself crashing into Peter, half sitting on the bed to hold him in her arms, barely able to contain her joy and not squeeze the life out of him – that would have been a shame after everything they went through. To be frank, she counted on the fact that his body sustained no more injuries at this point, because every part of her yearned to be in his arms and never leave again.

“Sh, shh,” Peter whispered, stroking (Y/N)’s hair while she cried on his shoulder, wetting his hospital gown. He would want to get out of that as soon as possible, she should call May to tell her the news and ask her to bring clothes. “Please don’t cry, (Y/N). Whatever happened, it’s over now. I’m here…” he soothed her gently, not even sure she could hear him over her own cries.

“I thought you would die for real this time! I thought you were going to die,” she kept repeating, not letting go of him and rocking them slightly.

Peter was at loss. What on earth happened and why was (Y/N) so upset? When looking around him, he thought he was in a hospital, so he must have been seriously roughed up to end up here. He hated being the reason why she cried...

“I thought I’d lost you,” she sobbed, trying to calm down the waterfall. “I really thought- I thought-“ she hiccuped, unable to go any further. “I was so scared, Peter. Never do that again!”

The rational part of her brain told her that he didn’t even know what he had done, but the words simply stumbled out of her mouth of their own free will, she had no control anymore. Her hands clung to Peter and she couldn’t string together coherent words, but she was so utterly happy and relieved that she simply could not find it in herself to give a damn.

“I promise, (Y/N), I promise,” Peter swore, pulling away just enough to meet her tearful gaze so she would know he meant it. He brought a hand up to wipe away some tears from her rosy cheeks. “I’m so sorry I made you worry.”

He held her face in the palm of his hands, thumbs lightly brushing away the last tears rolling down her cheeks, feeling her regain some composure now that he was out of danger. He had no idea what he did to put (Y/N) in such distress, but he didn’t need to know to vow he would do everything in his power to never let it happen again.

Seeing her like this was a stab in the heart. Peter thought he must have really messed up this time because she was usually pretty good at staying calm and collected when he came home injured. His memory was blurry, but he remembered finally managing to stop the villain he was after…

His head shot up.

“The villain!” he exclaimed, making (Y/N) frown a bit. “I fought with him, I webbed him to a streetlight. The police-“

“They found him,” she assured him, wrapping her hands around his wrists to put them in her lap. “He won’t hurt anyone anymore now. They put him back in his cell.”

“Back?” Peter asked, even more confused.

“Yes, he was a fugitive. He escaped from his prison in Florida, nobody knows how yet and he won’t speak. Last I heard, they sent him back and placed him in isolation,” she informed him. She hadn’t watched the news again since the first day, but Happy had made it his duty to tell her what happened to Peter’s attacker.

“I know how he did it, and how he kept evading me!” Peter suddenly told her. “He had this device that made him invisible. I managed to take it from him, but not before he-“

Peter paused, eyes getting unfocused and (Y/N) shuffled closer, still holding his hands.

“Peter?”

He slipped a hand out of her grasp and touched the spot on his scalp where his head wound had been. All gone now.

“-not before he shot me,” he concluded. Then, his eyes darted on (Y/N) again, plunging in her concerned gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

*

“For once in your life, Peter, just let me carry the fucking bags.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and shook her head when Peter pouted at her, obviously not too happy about being treated like a cripple.

“I’m fine though, I swear!” he argued, flexing and doing a squat to prove his point. “Look! Like new.”

“You just woke up from a nearly three-week coma, will you quit it?!” she snapped, not actually mad but trying to sound stern to make him stop his shenanigans. “You’ll give me a heart attack!”

That seemed to work. Peter bit his lip and put his hands in his pockets, pretending to kick a rock on the ground.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I never thought something like this would happen…” he apologized for the thousandth time since he woke up a week ago. He had been ridden with guilt ever since.

It had been a wild week, for both of them, but the worst of it were the first twelve hours. Peter might have been sleeping around the clock for weeks, buthe could already feel the familiar drowsiness coming back. His body was tired from all the healing it had done, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t need the rest. He hadn’t worn his new suit since he came back.

Granted, (Y/N) was keeping it under lock until she decided he was well-enough to go back on Spider duty. Peter thought it unnecessary. First, he wouldn’t risk his own life again so soon after barely making it out alive from a fight, and two, he wouldn’t go against (Y/N)’s wish if it put her mind at ease. Peter didn’t know what he would have done if the roles had been reversed.

But to have his girlfriend carry up the stairs the huge bags of groceries that he knew were very heavy and the straps hurt her fingers, that was taking it too far. She simply wouldn’t let him do anything that could exert him.

Then again, he should feel lucky he got to go home with (Y/N), because if it had been aunt May… She went properly crazy when (Y/N) called her the morning after he woke up – he had coaxed her into waiting until sunrise to call his aunt, because he didn’t want her to travel all across New York in the middle of the night. And to be entirely fair, she did not put up much of a fight and they stayed huddled on his small bed, holding onto each other for dear life.

May had cried, yelled, cried and yelled at the same time. There were tears and smiles and Peter didn’t know whether she was mad at him or happy. But he, for one, was happy to see three of his favorite people gathered in this room. May had sat on the other side of his bed, opposite (Y/N), and they all engaged in a long conversation about his recklessness and the fact that he needed to be more mindful of his own safety – for their sake if not his.

They also gave him the Captain American teddy bear that Ned brought for him, and Peter laughed, but not as much as when he saw the card that went with it. It had a sad puppy on the front and on the inside there was a single sentence in comic sans: You gave me a big spook! It was surrounded by notes and get-well soon messages from his friends.

Then, Dr Cho arrived and asked them to exit the room while she performed the last exams. Not even half an hour later, he was free to go. (Y/N) had gone back upstairs to get her things and said that she would meet them at the door.

Peter received his second big, bad news of the day right then. All he had wanted was to get out of his hospital gown – how could something so minimal be so uncomfortable? - finally put on some normal clothes and go home to sleep for two days straight.

But May had other plans.

“(Y/N) knows that you want to propose,” she blurted out as soon as the door closed on (Y/N). Happy had left too, preparing the car for them.

“What?” Peter squeaked out, the sound coming out of his mouth barely recognizable as his voice. Had he heard right? “Come again?” No, it was definitely his voice, only it had gone up several octaves.

“It’s a minor slip-up, she took it well!”

Far from reassuring Peter, this only made him lose some colors.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” May asked, fists on her hips, looking extremely unimpressed. “You’re Spider-Man, get it together.”

“You told my girlfriend I was going to propose to her while I was in a coma?” Peter grumbled through his teeth – no need to speak any louder, if anyone else found out, he would really faint, if only to get out of this awkward situation. “How did it happen?”

May began to ramble about how she overheard (Y/N) on the phone with her boss, “who was very unpleasant from what I could tell,” she said, already drifting away from the subject. Apparently, he was giving her a hard time about not going to work and staying by his side, so she yelled at him something about his wife being at the hospital and what he would do then?

“But the point is, she told him you were her fiancé. So, of course I jumped to the conclusion that you had asked her-“

“You did not.” Peter sucked in a breath, not ready to hear what came next even though he already knew she did, in fact, do it.

“I congratulated her on your engagement!” May blurted out, looking even more embarrassed and guilty as before. “I couldn’t have known she only said that because if he thought it was a family matter, he would leave her alone!”

“Oh, my God,” Peter lamented, falling back on the bed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“This wouldn't have happened if you'd hurried up and proposed already!”

When he finally got over May’s news and got dressed before joining everyone at the front door, he could barely meet his girlfriend’s eyes. Act normal, act normal. Her couldn’t act normal; his girlfriend knew he had been wanting to propose for months but was too chicken-shit to actually do it.

And now they were walking up the stairs to their apartment, arguing back and forth about why he wasn’t allowed to carry the heavy groceries and had to walk behind her while she struggled.

“I feel useless,” Peter groaned, unable to help himself. He just liked to tease (Y/N) more than was good for him. “Is this what it feels like to be you most of the time? I get why you don’t like it when I go fight crime.”

“Shut up, nerd!” she countered, laughing. “Seriously, don’t make me laugh or I’m going to trip.”

They made it up without any more interruption from one recovering Peter Parker. After she set the bags on the kitchen table, she grunted and stretched until her back popped.

“See?” Peter’s voice came from behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her left shoulder. “Should’ve let me carry ‘em.”

“I don’t mind,” (Y/N) giggled. “Need to maintain these guns one way or another.” She flexed for him, making them both laugh, and Peter turned her around so she would face him.

It didn’t take much for Peter to get lost in (Y/N)’s eyes – they were an endless pool of trust and love. He could drown in her affection. One of her hands rested flat on his chest, right above his heart, and he wondered if she could hear it pick up speed when he leaned in to capture her lips. It never failed to fluster him just a little bit, and he thought it was a good thing.

He held her waist in his hands, feeling her back arch a little as she leaned into him, pressing her body against his while he slipped a hand under her shirt to feel her blazing skin beneath his fingertips. (Y/N) melted into the kiss, parting her lips to deepen it and quench a thirst that knew no relief since Peter woke up.

She had been so close to losing him, it was as though something inside her, a kind of hunger, awoke, along with a feeling of urgency. She simply could not wrap her mind around how close they came to catastrophe.

Peter seemed just as eager as her, if not more, to gets things moving. He stepped forward, forcing (Y/N) to walked backwards and right into the kitchen counter. Their lips parted for the briefest moment when Peter grabbed her by the thighs to pick her up and sit on her the counter, standing between her legs.

He loved the low moans tumbling off her lips when he dived on her neck, strewing hot kisses from her jaw down to her shoulder and began to suckle on her weak spot.

“Peter…” she gasped, one hand nestled in his neck, playing with the hair on his nape. She jerked her hips forward, almost falling off the counter, but Peter put his thigh between hers to prevent her from slipping.

He nearly lost his mind when he felt her start to rub herself against his thigh, little moans coming out of her mouth while Peter pushed down the strap of her top and bra to continue his ministrations.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he told her, pulling away and then pressing his lips against her. He pecked her several times, enjoying the feel of giddiness radiating off her. “Dinner can wait.”

*

It was well past dinner time and they still hadn’t eaten or even prepared anything, but neither of them gave a single damn at the moment. They were too busy enjoying that pillow talk and lazily kissing each other on the bed, snuggled up, naked and content. Post-coital bliss was a thing, and nothing else mattered right now.

Peter hummed to himself, his fingers absentmindedly running up and down (Y/N)’s spine, making her shiver.

“Stop it,” she chuckled, feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin. “It tickles.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Peter countered, smiling down at her. (Y/N) titled her head up, hand flat against Peter’s chest and chin resting on the back of it. He booped her nose, making (Y/N) scrunch it up. “You’re too adorable.”

(Y/N) bit her lip to hide her growing smirk, an idea popping in her head.

“Oh yeah?” she hummed, raising a brow. She shifted slightly to push the sheet off her and change position.

Peter’s pupils blew wider ever so slightly when she eased herself on top of him, arms crossed over his chest, chin resting on her hands. Her face was so close to his, it was too tempting not to kiss her, but she held him down, pressing a palm against his collarbone as she slowly sat up straight, straddling him.

“I’m adorable?”

Peter gulped down, mesmerized. Luckily for him, his body knew what to do when his mind went blank, and his hands found their place on (Y/N)’s thighs, digging his fingers into the tender flesh, soft under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. He tried to sit up to kiss her now, but she still held him down.

Of course, he could have sat up if he wanted, but he wasn’t going to use his super strength on (Y/N), and in the bedroom at that! He felt quite happy being held down like he was, pinned against the mattress by his adorable, beautiful, hot girlfriend.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” she teased him, leaning down to let her breasts brush against his rising chest.

She was so close now, so, so close he could feel her breath fanning his skin. He couldn’t resist anymore.

(Y/N) gasped and laughed when Peter wrapped one arm around her and flipped them over, hovering over her, one hand still holding her thigh up. He kissed her deeply, letting their mouths find their own rhythm and dance together.

He didn’t particularly want to, but he had to break away at some point, if only to catch their breath.

“You are so beautiful, (Y/N),” he told her, meeting her glossy eyes. “And I don’t deserve you, but I’m so glad you like me back,” he laughed, hiding his embarrassment behind humor.

(Y/N) could see the truth shine through though, and she toned down the flirting a little bit to answer.

“You’re a beautiful person, Peter,” she assured him, cradling his face. “You’re kind, funny, handsome, selfless – and most importantly you’re mine. And I’m so lucky to have you.”

The mood had shifted entirely. They untangled their limbs and Peter let her sit up on the bed, both of them basking in the setting sun, holding onto each other. Peter stared at their joined hands and interlaced their fingers, creases of worry etched on his forehead.

“You never…” he trailed off, not sure what to say or how to say it.

It had always been a touchy subject for him; some parasite thought that lingered in the back of his mind but that he refused to address. He had gotten away with it for a long time too – five years! But now, he couldn’t post-pone it anymore. (Y/N)’s own life was too intertwined with his for him to ignore the elephant in the room.

He had been selfish for too long already. No matter what (Y/N) thought of him, he wasn’t nearly as selfless as he appeared to be. If he really was, he wouldn’t have dragged his beautiful (Y/N) into his mess of a life in the first place.

She placed a finger under his chin to make him look at her, a little smile turning up the outer corners of her lips.

“What is it, Peter? I can see something’s been bothering you since you came home.” She leaned against his shoulder, placing a quick kiss there. “After what happened this past month, I can hear anything.”

“Do you ever… wish things were different?” Peter asked her, unsure.

She didn’t expect that question. In fact, she didn’t expect a question at all. Whatever was on Peter’s mind, she thought it had been something entirely different. What did this even mean? He couldn’t seriously think what she thought he did.

“I know it’s hard for you sometimes, and I kills me that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t stop being Spider-Man,” Peter continued before (Y/N) could say anything – most likely out of sheer nervousness.

“Of course you can't. You are Spider-Man, you can't stop being who you are, and I would never ask you to!” she cut him off. (Y/N) fumbled around to find his shirt so she wasn’t just sitting there, butt naked, while they were having a serious conversation. “Peter, what is this-“

“Listen,” he cut her off too. “Please, just listen to me. I see that my double life impacts your life too, not just mine. And I don’t want you to feel… to feel like you have to stay with me. I don’t want to be the reason why you’re always worried or – God help me – unhappy.”

“Where is this coming from?” (Y/N) asked, no longer smiling now.

“I love you more than anything, (Y/N), and I want you to be happy,” Peter told her. He was so unequivocally, painfully honest. (Y/N) wanted to shake him by the shoulders until he stopped his nonsense. “Even if it means without me.”

“If this is a break-up speech-“

“No!” he almost shouted. “It’s the opposite, really. It’s my ‘I wanna be with you but not at the expense of your happiness’ speech.”

“I wanna be with you too.” What could she possibly say that would make him believe her? “You think what happened made me question whether or not I want to spend my life with you?”

That was it. She knew she had guessed right when she saw the way Peter flinched and looked away, sighing.

“It was so awful, Peter. You gave me the fright of my life! I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t wake up. I totally spiraled; ask May. I don’t want to be separated from you again, do you understand what I’m saying? I had never been so scared in my entire life. Not when the chitori attacked, not when Thanos attacked, I simply never felt the kind of fear that the thought of losing you instilled in my heart. I don't want to feel like this ever again. I can never be happy without you, so don’t ever talk to me again about leaving! I forbid you, do you hear me?” She was now full-on forcing him to look at her, holding his face between her hands, her eyes plunged in his.

“I hear you,” Peter said softly, an expression of ease suddenly relaxing his features.

Maybe she had told him exactly what he needed to hear after all. She knew Peter was like that, insecure in his own, quiet way, despite being a superhero who saved countless lives.

“I love you so much,” (Y/N) continued, placing a feather-light kiss on Peter’s lips, making him smile at the affectionate gesture. “You’re everything I could ever hope for, Peter. I won’t let you forget that.”

(Y/N) had wanted to give Peter a chance to propose for real, and while a week wasn't much time, she was changed since his injury and her patience had run out. The sense of urgency brewing in the pit of her stomach prompted her to take action.

Without a word, she pinched his chin, kissed him once more, then stood up, throwing Peter his sweatpants, silently asking him to put them on and follow her. She went into the kitchen, Peter on her heels, and opened one of the lower cabinets that was usually empty, taking out a box that she set on the table in front of Peter.

Peter hesitated.

“What is it?” He glanced at her.

“Maybe the concept of a box is flying over your head, but you’re meant to open it to find out,” (Y/N) replied, making Peter narrow his eyes at her for being so sarcastic when they were having a moment.

She shot him an innocent smile and took a few steps closer, lightly tapping the lid of the box.

“I asked Pepper if she could send a new one in one of my moments of clarity during your coma,” she said when Peter opened the mystery box, finding a brand-new suit inside, neatly folded like only (Y/N) knew how to. Heaven knows she had tried to teach him, but he was a poor student.

Peter took it out to look at it, feeling the material. He could tell it was a little different, it was like a second skin to him.

“I don’t have a ring, so it’ll have to do. It’s symbolic enough I suppose,” (Y/N) said, mouth dry but holding onto her last shred of courage to keep going.

No wonder Peter had postponed proposing to her, it was nerve wrecking.

“Men don't wear engagement rings,” he laughed before even processing her own words. It took him a second to understand, and (Y/N) witnessed the very moment he realized what she had said. “You- what?” he asked, staring at her with wide eyes. “You don’t ha-“

“Then go get mine, you dork,” (Y/N) simply answered, pushing a wild lock out of his eyes and sending him a radiant smile.

“You knew about it?”

Peter cursed himself for asking such an idiotic question when it wasn't the point at all. Then again, May had told him she knew he wanted to propose but he had thought he ring was well hidden.

“Found it in my treasure chest but I didn't open it.”

He sighed in relief as if it changed anything, and it made her smile even more. Her hand lingered on his face, just gently playing with his untamable hair, revelling in the slight blush that crept on his cheeks and the gleam of joy shimmering in his eyes.

“Marry me, Peter.”

The hardest thing she had ever had to say out loud, yet the most honest. They didn’t have to wait until he nearly died to take that step. Peter didn’t need to wait for the perfect moment to pop the question, he could have asked her over breakfast and her answer would have been the same as if he had asked her on top of the Eiffel Tower.

“You’re not- You- (Y/N)…” Peter stammered out, blushing like crazy and completely losing his ability to speak English.

With a beaming smile, (Y/N) closed the distance between them to kiss a very startled Peter. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights and she couldn’t even blame him! He most definitely did not expect her to pull the rug from under him like that – but she did.

“Marry me,” she repeated, her lips still grazing his, forehead against forehead. “Peter Parker, marry me.”

Forgetting about the box and the suit and everything else, Peter picked her up from the ground and pinned her on the fridge a few steps behind her, still not believing what was happening to him. He vaguely heard a few magnets fall and hit the wooden floor.

“You knew,” he said in between kisses, now lying on top of a giggling (Y/N). “You knew I wanted to propose…” he told her with a scolding look.

“Well, you were taking too long.” She shrugged. “One of us had to do it.”

It was impossible to be so happy! He was going to burst any minute now. His smile was so big it hurt but he didn’t even care.

“So, what do you say? Fancy spending the rest of your days with me?” (Y/N) pushed him, raising her nose just enough to eskimo kiss him.

“Let me get your ring,” Peter continued, still not answering. She was growing anxious!

Peter let her go more abruptly than planned, too caught up in the moment to think straight. He ran back to their room and to the shelf to grab the chest. He picked out the velvet box. His hands became clammy even though (Y/N) had done the hardest part already. He hoped she would like it.

He found her sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, smiling at him. She took his breath away – she was beaming, out of this world. He couldn't believe his luck. Peter went to stand before her, the small box sitting in his palm.

“Open it,” he enjoined her when she glanced at him, then the box, then him again.

With trembling hands, (Y/N) did as she was told, and covered her mouth as soon as she saw its content. Tucked between two velvet cushions was a stunning, white gold band with several engravings catching the light. No diamond, nothing too fancy, just the way she liked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you when I had the chance,” Peter finally spoke, finding courage in her adoring eyes. He took out the ring and held (Y/N)'s hand to slip it on her finger. They both had to laugh at how nervous they were, all shaking hands and racing hearts.

“I love you,” she told him again. She didn't know what else to say, she was at a loss. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Peter answered, kissing her. “And I'll marry you.”

.

.

.

TAGLIST: @palindrome-teddy @complete-trash-101 @keeperofhopesanddreams @i-love-whumperflies @golden-guide @marauderette130 @lowkeykatie888 @theparkerindustries

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

No Surrender Pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Request: hey i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write something where the ready and bucky are in the same hydra facility and try to escape together. idk maybe that’s bad but i love your writing!!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: In the winter of 1945 Hydra captures Sargent James Barnes. After months spent unconscious, he wakes up in a cell with you and a new addition on his left side. Quickly it becomes clear that being locked up together may be the best bout of luck either of you has had in a while… Maybe together the two of you have a chance of making it out of this hell alive. Now, 69 years later the two of you are brought back together, scars and all. War changes everyone it touches but maybe, together, you can both find some kind of peace.

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, blood

A/N: How did we get here??? Do I ever know? I’m floored that some of you are just so in love with this story. It’s unexpected and I LIVE for your feedback and excitement over it. Thank you for patiently waiting for Part 3! 

Some things: While I’m a huge research nerd I can only ready about military court proceedings for so long before my eyes cross and I go crazy. I tried. I fully guarantee everything about how that would go down is pure fictional bullshit. So basically please don’t @ me. I know the feels are heavy but... like if you’re not new here I feel that should be expected. 

Hope you like this one pumpkins!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @handplucked @krugeforeveryone @jewelofwinter @get-loki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything  @littledarlinhavefaithinme

The next weeks pass in a blur.

You settle once more into your Georgetown row house, purchased down the road from Peg’s so many decades before. In recent years you had preferred spending your time in Europe. It always felt more like home, less lonely, and… plenty of opportunities to get your hands a little dirty here and there. Once a spy…

You’ve been spending any time you can with Steve and Bucky. At Dr. Carr’s advice, the two of you try to guide Bucky to memories he has. She thinks it will reinforce his grip on what is his own and what Hydra put inside him.

Since your history with him is so brief you mainly listen to the two men talk about their childhood, their families, what life was for them before the world fell apart. You don’t mind at all. Listening to them takes you back to a time when things were so simple for you too, even if Brooklyn and Lyon were a world apart.

In these moments you sit next to him on his small bed, Steve in the armchair. Bucky’s fingers playing with yours. Catching small smiles from him. Observing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. Amazed at the buzzing in your stomach that you thought you wouldn’t feel again…

Then there are the more mundane issues at hand. S.H.I.E.L.D. had held back a metric ton of shit for so long that without it chaos was knocking. Any time you’re not with the boys you’re sorting through Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. files, finding the spots of overlap, flagging things that are worth a deeper look, and feeling your heart shatter more and more.

Your friends had worked so hard… dedicated their lives to build something good… and for what?

You’d been in one of the conference rooms for most of the day pulling the pieces of a particularly heinous experiment together. The lines between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra here are so clear it makes your hands shake and guilt wash over you.

All those years ago when you decided to retire, go off the grid, Howard begged you to stay. Peg understood why you wanted out. It had been too long and it was becoming more and more apparent that you weren’t aging like the rest of them.

People were talking. Dummy agreed, it was time to move on but Howard said they needed someone like you. A fulcrum to ground everything, someone to remember why they needed S.H.I.E.L.D., who really knew what was out there.

That had been one hell of a fight. Dummy had nearly knocked Howard out when he said you were being a coward. You went years without speaking after. But now you think he was right. Had you stayed… had you been brave enough… maybe this wouldn’t have happened…

You fling the file you were reading across the table and fish your cigarettes from your bag. Fresh air and a smoke, that’s what you need.

On the roof you light up, the early evening light casting everything in pinks and golds. Your heart, which had been in your throat for hours finally starts to settle in its proper place, hands steadying.

The door behind you slams open. Reflex sends you spinning, pistol in your hand before you even know what’s happening. Sharon stands in the doorway, not even seeing the gun in your hands, panting.

“It’s, Sargent Barnes. Steve isn’t here-”

You flick the cigarette and rush to her, pressing your gun into her hands. “Where is he?”

“In his room,” she stops by the elevator.

“I can get there faster on foot.” Immediately you bolt to the stairwell. There’s a landing every two stories. Easy enough to jump and you do until you’re at the basement level.

The door to the observation room is open and you can hear Dr. Carr trying to speak to him, soothe him.

“Bucky you’re safe, Steve is coming. Bucky-”

“What happened?!” You demand.

She turns to you, eyes wide as saucers. “He had a meeting with the lawyers… I told him to rest after… and he woke up…”

You can see in the screen behind her the reason she looks so shaken. He’s pressed into a corner, sobbing, trying desperately to claw that left arm off. Just like when he first came to in your cell.

Without another word, you’re running. Unthinking you break the last two security doors in your haste sending the alarms off for a moment before they’re silenced. Perhaps you should be more cautious but you don’t care. You fling the door open, the handle groaning under your steel grip.

“Sargent Barnes,” your voice is soft. His eyes shoot to you but he doesn’t see you, just a threat. Blood is trickling down his chest, staining the grey of his sweatpants. That familiar copper scent filling your nostrils.

With the speed only a super soldier can manage, he’s on his feet. He lunges for you but he’s disoriented, afraid. You move easily and get behind him wrapping your arms around him, pinning him as you did when you first met.

“Shh,” you coo into his ear. “I know you’re afraid. I won’t hurt you Bucky. I won’t.” His body shudders under your grasp and you feel some of the tension slip from him until there’s a noise at the door.

“No!” You call out to whoever it may be. Silence falls again but he’s squirming, though not trying to escape you.

“Y/N…”

“Yes, you know me.”

“I can’t,” his voice cracks. “Off. I need it off!”

“Ok. We can work on that maybe, another time, mon chou.” Your grip remains tight. “Not like this.”

You don’t know why you do it. Maybe because it brought you both peace once in your brief history together. Maybe because you wish you could sing him to sleep. But softly you begin to sing, Le chant des partisans.

Slowly you feel him relax. His knees give way and you fall to the ground with him, still holding him tight. A sob escapes and you stop singing.

His right hand, shaking and bloody rises, resting on your forearm. “No, please don’t stop… please.” You don’t. Holding him tight you sing, gently rocking him, until his sobbing quiets and his body stops trembling.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is so low that someone without advanced hearing may have missed it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He pats your arms and you release him and move to sit beside him. His blue eyes study you, the blood, his blood, coating the arms of your cream button up and jeans. You roll your eyes, “Not the first time I’ve had a little blood on me.”

Bucky’s gaze switches to the blood trailed around the space. The fingers of his right hand touch his chest and he winces. You reach up and tenderly take his hand, lacing your fingers with his, worried he’ll start again.

The gashes are… deep. Painfully so. He’s not bleeding enough to cause too much concern but it needs to be cleaned and stitched.

“We will have someone look at that.”

“No!” His voice echoes a bit, he seems to flinch a bit at the resounding volume. “Sorry… I… It’ll heal. No need to fuss-”

“Just because you’re enhanced doesn’t mean you are impervious. That can get infected, it needs to be cared for.”

He shrugs, “Never mattered before.”

The dismissal of his own wellbeing twists your heart in your chest. You reach up and tilt his face toward your own with your free hand, “It matters to me.” He looks up at you through his lashes. “What if I took care of it? Would that be ok?”

He scoffs a little, “You a nurse now?”

You smile, “It’s been a long life Barnes. I’ve picked up quite a few skills to stay busy.” Playfully you wink, earning a small smile.

“Sure.”

“I’ll go get a kit,” you move to stand but his hand grips your own tighter. Gently you cup his face, “I will be right back. I swear.” He nods and brings your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

Once you’re past the last security door you take a moment, tears burning the backs of your eyes, desperately trying to find some kind of composure. That kiss. He’d done the same just before he shoved you into that tunnel and began a lifetime of pain. You feel like you’re going to shatter.

“Is he…” Steve is standing at the end of the hall, hands wringing together.

“Ok? No.” You take a shaky breath, “But expecting him to be…”

“I mean… physically.” Right. Blood.

Aimlessly you wipe your hands on your ruined shirt. “Oui. Nothing a few stitches won’t take care of.”

Steve nods, “I’ll get medical-”

You shake your head, “He wants me to take care of it.” Steve’s brows knit for a minute before they relax, seeming to understand.

When you walk back in he’s wiping up blood with a few washrags from the bathroom. A somewhat Sisyphean task since the motion is making him bleed more.

His eyes meet yours, sad and… shameful. “I… don’t want to be a burden.” It makes you think of Dummy… there at the end. Your fingers automatically grasp the rings hanging against your skin under the shirt.

“You aren’t.” You sit near a spot of blood, so the mess doesn’t spread elsewhere. “Come. Let’s get you mended and we can clean after. Steve can-”

“I don’t want Steve to know I…” You hold his gaze, “He already knows huh?” Sighing he sits across from you, legs crossed.

“He’s listed as your next of kin, they have to tell him these things. Here,” you hand him a clean towel, “lay it over your lap.” You begin irrigating the gashes, he doesn’t even flinch. In a moment the towel is damp and pink with blood. You work in silence, fingers fast despite it having been at least a decade since you’ve stitched someone up.

“You’re not the only one who has them,” your voice seems so much louder in the total silence of the space.

“Huh?”

“Flashbacks,” you begin to thread the needle, “night terrors. You’re not the only one.” His eyes meet yours softly questioning. You begin to stitch him up, aching a touch that he doesn’t react at all to the pain. “I’ve never known a soldier who’s seen battle to not have them.” You snip the thread and grab more for the next gash. “What I mean is that you shouldn’t be ashamed. Being haunted… well, it means you still have your humanity intact. At least… that’s what I tell myself.”

“Do you have them?” Your fingers tremble a bit. Bucky catches your hand in his right, touch feather light.

“Oui,” you whisper, feeling his eyes on you, unable to look up. He moves his hand and you knot the final stitch. The others only needed bandaging.

“Can I… do they…” He clears his throat, struggling to find the words. “Am I in them…?” His tone is so defeated, aching, that you can’t help but meet his gaze.

You feel your heartbreak, knowing he wants you to say no. But you’ve dreamt about that day for almost seven decades now. It’s only one in many horrors your mind holds on to but still… “One of them. As I said it’s been a long life, plenty of time for-”

“I don’t regret it.” He sounds the exact opposite of a moment ago. There’s a flicker of the man from before there in the blue of his eyes.

Leaning down you make to grab bandages from the kit when you’re really struggling to hold onto your composure. Your necklace tumbles from the unbuttoned top of your shirt, the jangling of metal sounding harsh in the heavy silence.

Metal fingers slide under your chin, lifting your face up. “I don’t, Y/N.” You swallow hard, willing yourself to keep it together. “Getting you out may have been the last good thing I got to do. How could I regret that?”

“But you-”

“Doesn’t matter. You got out. That’s what I wanted. When I’d start to remember things I would remember that, it… you brought me peace.”

Tears fall from your eyes despite your best efforts. A small sound bursts past your lips and you cover your mouth quickly. His fingers cup the back of your head and pull you toward him, resting his forehead on your own.

“I don’t wanna be something that haunts you. Not any more. I’m not a ghost now.”

You nod, pulling away and wiping at your tears with your forearm. Bucky casts you a sweet smile.

“You don’t talk much when Steve’s here,” he says as you fish bandages from the kit.

You shrug, “I like hearing you two reminisce. Reminds me of simpler times.”

He nods as if he understands. “Can… can I ask you something then?”

“Anything.” You begin to put ointment on the shallower cuts, they’d likely be healed by tomorrow if not the next day you knew. Your fingers freeze when you hear his metal ones clink against the rings and tags dangling from your neck.

“Who was the lucky bastard?”

Sighing you sit back on your heels. A playful grin softens his features and makes his eyes sparkle. You can’t help but smile back.

“Read the tags and find out.” One eyebrow cocks up and he lifts them, the long chain only making him lean forward a touch to see.

“Holy shit.” His head falls back and he lets out a bellowing laugh. “Fucking Dum Dum Dugan?!” The sound of his laugh makes one bubble from you too. “I gotta say, that’s not what I expected.”

“My either, trust me.” You shake your head.

Bucky’s laugh quiets, thumb rubbing over the letters before letting go of the necklace. “Good man, though.”

You nod, “He was. I hated him at first,” you go back to bandaging his wounds. “He was so… American. God the number of times I wanted to just rip that mustache off his damn face. But he grew on me.” A small laugh comes from you and you can’t help but smile, “The guys gave us hell for it too.”

“Guys?”

“The other Howlers. And Stark, he gave me hell for everything though.”

“Were you…”

“Oui.” You finish and sit back, crossing your legs. “I… found them after, just like you said. It was too late but… there was work to be done and I just fell in with them.”

His brows knit. “But… your family? You had to find them?”

He had no way of knowing. Even after all this time, it hits you like a blow to the chest. Your gaze settles on the floor.

“Let’s just say you weren’t the only one I was too late to save…”

“Y/N…” He grabs your hand, holding tight. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” you shake your head. “It is a grief I shared with millions. Not something you need to mourn too.” He gives your hand a firm squeeze, his expression soft.

You force a smile to your lips, “Come, we can get everything cleaned up, together.”

-

Bucky had hoped the cool water would clear his head. Instead, the cold had just sent a flash of cryo cutting through his mind. His hands grip the sink, trying to hold on to what’s real until he hears the porcelain crack under his left hand. Quickly he releases it, not wanting to do more damage, and looks up at his reflection.

His lawyers thought a haircut would help remove the “Winter Soldier” image. It was similar to how he looked in some pictures he’d seen of himself. A few inches long, slicked back. They’d also thought clean shaven would be best, so for the first time in a long time, he actually shaved. He hardly knew the man in the mirror but… maybe that was for the best.

You had sent the suit over yesterday evening. The note in your looping hand assured him it should fit just fine. His fingers had lingered over the text, mind on the delicate but powerful hands that wrote it.

He probably shouldn’t think of you… not like that anyway. You were his friend’s wife… well widow, but still. It didn’t seem right. But you were his friend, and really that’s what he needed the most right now.

Somewhat awkwardly he tugs at the navy suit jacket, unsure if everything fit right and feeling more than a little out of place in it. A knock at the door puts his heart in his throat.

“It’s me,” your soft voice from the other side calms his nerves immediately.

“Come in.” While your voice may have calmed him your smile set his heart to racing once more. He swallows hard. Those blood red lips, sky-high heels, and the perfectly tailored suit make you nothing less than formidable.

“Oh, fantastic!” Your eyes scan him, taking in his attire. “It fits well, I was worried.”

“It does?” He feels sheepish asking, “Seems a little… tight.”

You laugh, “Men’s suits are slimmer than they used to be. Trust me, you look very handsome.” As you straighten his tie he catches a whiff of your perfume. Spicy with just the lightest touch of vanilla.

“Can I come in,” Steve asks from the hall.

“Of course,” Bucky says. Relieved at his timing. Much longer with you like this and he’d likely shove his foot in his mouth.

“You clean up alright man.” Steve gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and Bucky notes that his suit is similar. “You feelin’ ready?”

Steve’s eyes are intense with concern. All Bucky can manage is a shrug.

“Hey,” your hand gently rests on his chest, right over where you’d stitched him up a couple of weeks prior. “This is going to work.” Bucky meets your eyes and nods.

Desperately he wants you to be right. Because of the work, Sam Wilson did Bucky was being charged as an active member of the United States Army, a P.O.W. His hearing was a Court Marshal which would be held in a closed courtroom with only a judge presiding.

According to the lawyers, this was the best case scenario. According to Agent Hill, the possibility of there being a significant amount of press coverage was also high. And the general consensus was that while the chances he would be acquitted were high that didn’t mean that the proceedings would be easy to stomach.

The first people called to the stand were medical personnel. Confirming he’d been enhanced, giving an uncomfortable rundown of a laundry list of psychological disorders and effects that spending so long in captivity could and did cause. He felt like a zoo animal.

Steve was the first character witness. His role was to paint a picture of the man Bucky was before the war, the man he was still trying to get to know himself. His description of a loving and loyal son, brother, and friend seems a little flowery. There are parts he’s skipping, parts with bloody knuckles and whiskey breath. But Bucky figures it’s best to leave that out. His mind wanders a bit. Even the trial counsel doesn’t want to go hard on Captain America after all.

“Y/N Bernard is called to the stand.” Immediately Bucky’s attention is back.

You flash him a wry smile as you walk past, moving with so much grace you look like royalty, not a soldier. He’d gotten the rundown of your role. Confirmation of his initial capture and torture, as well as your own, and some intel on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founding.

Once sworn in you sit, shoulders back, head high. Was he a lawyer he’d struggle to ask you anything other than out to dinner. His lawyers go in first.

“Ms. Bernard, you were a member of the French resistance starting from when?”

“I joined in 1941 and remained an active operative until I was captured in January of 1945.”

“When you were captured did you know it was Hydra and not the Nazis that had you?”

“No. I was captured by Nazi soldiers after a raid gone wrong. They had been ordered to bring any able-bodied men and women to Zola, and that’s what they did.”

“How many were with you?” This line of questioning wasn’t what Bucky had anticipated. It makes him anxious as he’s never heard this part of your story.

“Eight.” Your eyes close a fraction longer than a blink and he wishes they would stop already. “Myself and seven men. I was the only one to survive the first round of experiments.”

“After which you were moved?”

“Yes. I was relocated twice that I remember. I believe they were trying to outmaneuver the Howling Commandos as they had been strongly advancing on one Hydra base after another at that time.”

The lawyer nods, “And at any of these other locations were you ever with another prisoner?”

“I was. Two of them I saw die within the cell from reactions to whatever it was Hydra was doing to them. Another was taken away and never returned. All men.”

“And Sargent Barnes was one of those cellmates?”

“Yes. He was the final one.”

“Why final?”

“Because,” your eyes slide to Bucky and hold his gaze, “Sargent Barnes helped me escape captivity. He saved my life.”

“And you believe that he was subjected to some of the same torture methods used on you?”

“I know for certain he was.”

“So you had experience with this electroshock tool they used, their tactics for manipulation?”

“I did.”

“Can you walk us through that?”

Bucky wants to tell you no. You don’t have to do this. He doesn’t want you to do this. But he grits his teeth.

You walk through the chair, how they would try and indoctrinate you in your confused state, abuses suffered, then the details of your escape. What you knew of the founding of S.H.I.E.L.D. and what your role had been. By the end, Bucky feels like he wants to wretch.

The trial counsel rises, “So Ms. Bernard, it is Ms. isn’t it?” Bucky feels his hackles rise, not liking the tone this man is taking with you.

“Yes, it is.”

“But you were married?”

“I was.”

“To an American citizen? One of the Howling Commandos if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes.” Your eyes narrow.

“However, you never took his name. I understand in this day that’s fairly normal but then it was an unusual choice.”

The judge clears his throat, “Is there a point.”

“Yes, your honor.” The counsel rounds the table and stands before you, “Ms. Bernard I found that interesting because despite it being the norm, you didn’t take your husband’s name. Didn’t take a position as a founding member of S.H.I.E.L.D. even though you were well positioned to do so. You didn’t remain working with S.H.I.E.L.D. even though you claim to have close ties with those for whom its founding was deeply personal. In fact after Timothy Dugan’s death in 1985 most records of you vanish altogether despite the fact that we were still in the midst of the Cold War.”

He pauses as though he’s giving you space to retaliate. You don’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, your cool gaze remains steady, Bucky even swears there’s a smirk playing on your lips.

“It’s interesting because, even to a casual observer, Ms. Bernard it would seem that you were actively avoiding being noticed. And now The Winter Soldier turns up, S.H.I.E.L.D., an organization that has spent the last few decades protecting our nation, falls, and suddenly here you are willing to put your name on the record for the first time. That seems a touch suspicious given your history.”

“What exactly would you accuse me of sir?” You possibly dropped the temperature of the whole courtroom by a few degrees.

“No accusation. Simply stating that you’re breaking almost 70 years of silence at a very poignant time. You could have remained an active agent, serving this country, and be on this stand today with nothing whatsoever to besmirch your honor. But your silence and secrecy make you an unknown. So my question is why? Why come forward now?”

Now your smirk comes out full force. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

“Why do you think the United States created Captain America? Or Hydra me and Sargent Barnes? Why make us what we are?”

“Enhanced persons are a tactical advantage.”

“Another way to put that, perhaps the more true way, is that we are weapons or war.” Your smirk falls and your countenance turns to stone, “I did not choose to be such a weapon. My silence, my secrecy, are rooted in my desire to remain a free woman. Not a weapon for cowardly men to use whenever they saw fit.”

“So why now?”

“I owe Sargent Barnes my life, and I have no doubt the lives of many others are owed him as well.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, sir, had he not freed me at the expense of his own life you would have had two super soldiers operating under the enemy for the last seven decades… one soldier and one spy. It does not take much of an imagination to put together the impact that may have had.”

There’s a clear ripple of tension through the room. He had never thought of that, never once occurred to him that the reason the two of you were chosen was for your skill sets. The perfect pair to infiltrate and destroy damn near any organization or country…

After that, the questioning seems to lose steam. The trial continues on in a blur. Bucky himself would not be called to the stand as he was deemed unfit to bear his own witness given what he had suffered. When the judge leaves to deliberate he wishes he could just disappear, all his sins, that they knew of, laid bare, all the way he was broken exposed. He knew it would be rough. No clue how rough…

The Judge is only gone for an hour. His lawyers can’t seem to decide if this is a good or bad turn of events. What they can agree on is that it’s unexpected.

“Sargent Barnes,” the judge addresses him, “to start I want to thank you.” Bucky has to fight to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. “For someone to have been through what you have and yet still sit on trial with dignity and honor… I don’t believe I’ve ever been so humbled in my life. I am proud to say that you have been found not guilty of all charges brought against you.” For a moment the judge is forced to pause. There’s a roar from the crowd outside, a mix of happiness and horror. But it’s the cheers of joy from behind Bucky that bring a smile to his face.

“You will receive all back pay and pension due a soldier of your rank. You will be required to continue counseling and evaluation. you may choose your own medical professionals but they will be vetted by the military in order to ensure not only your own safety but that of others.” The judge seems to take a moment to compose himself. “I’m honored to have been able to pass down this ruling to you Sargent Barnes. Thank you for your service.” The gavel cracks. And suddenly it’s all over.

Steve is the first one to get to him, his hug bone crushing, his laugh laced with too many emotions to count. “I knew it! I knew it would work. Welcome back to the real world pal.”

As soon as Steve releases him he sees you. Tears glitter in your eyes, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, he holds you tight against him.

“I’m so happy for you, Bucky.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, doll.”

You laugh and pull away, dabbing at your eyes. “Ok,” you say loudly enough to gather your people around. “Before we go out into that madness I just want to be clear. My place tonight 7pm. We celebrate, yes?”

“Damn straight!” Sam bellows.