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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Leave No One Behind Ch 1: You Gotta Have A Plan

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Chapter Summary: After returning from Sudan following their arrest, Sam and Ari go their separate ways…but Ari just can’t let things go. He needs a plan to break the refugees he left in the camp out. And he comes up with a plan so ridiculous that it just might work. That is, if he can pull together the right team.

Unfortunately he knows that the 2 people he probably needs and wants there the most, are going to be the toughest to convince. After all, they are siblings…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

A/N: Now, we believe from what research and reviews tell us, that RSDR takes place basically between 1979 and 1982 (the real Operation Brothers upon which it is based upon ran until 1984). To keep this as historically factual as possible, we have done all the research we can find on Mossad, the history of the Jewish people in the 40s through 80s…the rest is purely down to our imagination.

If anything is factually wrong, we mean no offence. Chalk it down to slight creative license and take this for what it is- a work of fiction.

Before you continue, we recommend you read this to introduce the ‘cast’- Leave No One Behind: Meet the Characters

Also Tags will be done by reblogs as Tumblr seems to, once again, have been taken over by Hydra and isn’t giving everyone notifications.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter Song: Across the Universe by the Beatles

“Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, that call me on and on across the universe…”

March 1979

Ari Levinson was a man who very rarely liked to sit still. He’d been the same as a boy, always needing to be doing something. And right now, even in a dark, sweaty, smelly cell in Sudan he was no different. Using the bars in the roof that gave them the only light and air into the area, he was doing pull ups, counting his way up to 100. When he finished his reps he dropped down with a sigh and made his way over to sit by Sammy who was leaning against the wall.

Ari glanced over at his friend, his fellow agent who simply looked at him without saying a word, and then looked away, both of them glancing up as Kabede, their in-country contact so to speak, walked over and sat besides Sammy.

“I heard the guards talking.” he said softly in his thick, African accent as Ari sat, his arms hanging over his knees. “They think we are smugglers. We need to get out of here.”

“Mr. Guy Thomas.” one of the guards called. All 3 of them exchanged a look, before Ari stood up and made his way to the cell door.

“You called?” he asked.

“You, and your friends…” the guard said, gun slung over his shoulder “You come with me…”

They did as they were told and were ushered into a small room, where they were unceremoniously handed their gear and told they were free to go. Ari did nothing but smile at Sammy, who rolled his eyes, because it was a knowing joke between everyone who ever ran a mission with Ari that he could fall in pig shit and come out smelling like roses.

Ari fished a packet of cigarettes out of his back pack, along with his shades and slipped them onto his eyes. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the sun, lighting his cigarette as he went. He paused for a moment, looking at the man who was leaning against a blue car, watching him. He jerked his head and Ari stepped towards him.

“And you are?” Ari asked, eyeing him up.

“I'm the reason you're out of there.” The man said, pushing himself off the car. Ari exchanged a look with Sammy as the man continued “Walton Bowen, American.”

“No shit.” Sammy said, his eyes still on the man as Ari shook his hand.

“Yeah?” Walton looked at him before he moved to shake his hand too “Cultural attaché, the embassy in Khartoum.”

“Oh. Well, you must have your hands full, considering the flourishing cultural scene in Sudan.” Ari said, the sarcasm evident in his tone and Walton gave a little laugh.

“Not nearly as flourishing as you with your anthropology studies, I'm sure.” Walton said, his voice level but Ari could detect the note of disbelief he carried. “We got a call from DC, you gents had gotten yourselves into a bit of a pickle.”

As Ari kept his eyes on the man and his face straight, besides him Sammy pointed

“Is that our stuff in the back of your car?”

Ari looked at Sammy then round to the car as Walton nodded.

“Yes, it is. I'm sorry about the hasty packing…” he said, gesturing to the car “…but I know you have a flight in less than five hours to London.”

Ari snorted, shaking his head a little. Of course we do, damned it Ethan.

“Where are you off to after that, boys?” Walton continued.

Ari didn’t reply, instead he chuckled, and turned from the man, walking over to where Kabede was stood a few feet away.

“Looks like they're calling me back. Are you gonna be okay?” Ari asked

“Yes” Kabede assured him “I will bring more families.”

“We'll find a better way.” Ari nodded, giving the man a friendly embrace, patting him on the back before he turned around and walked back towards Walton and Sammy.

“Hope you got my toothbrush…” he said, not stopping as he passed them both and made his way to the car. “It’s new.”

After a few hours layover in London, they were called to a desk and given tickets for a flight back to Isreal for an hour later. Ari fell asleep before the taxi down the runway had even finished and awoke a few hours later, stretching and ordering himself a beer. Before much longer the plane began it’s descent into Ben Guiron Airport and Ari let out a sigh. He knew he should be glad to be home, but he wasn’t. He hated leaving a job half done. But he wouldn’t deny he was looking forward to a shower. He felt disgusting, looked disgusting, smelt disgusting. Thank fuck Ethan had the sense to book an entire row out for him and Sammy each.

They cleared customs easily and were met by a driver who waved them over to a car.

“Home?” The man asked Ari as he took his bags from him to take them to the trunk. .

“Office.” Ari corrected, as he wrenched open the passenger door of the car. “You coming?” he asked Sammy as he sat down.

“Nah. Nah, I'm going back home.” Sammy looked at him.

“What?” Ari said, frowning as he got back out, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Back to the clinic.” Sammy said with a small smile.

Ari looked around, before he shut the door and walked over to Sammy, his mouth open in surprise.

What the hell are you talking about?” he asked gently.

“I called Ethan back in London, got a message to Hannah. She’s picking me up.” Sammy said taking a deep breath “I'm done.”

Sammy moved to pull Ari into an embrace, which Ari returned, albeit it a little half- heartedly as he was still reeling from Sammy’s revelation.

“Why?” he asked, patting Sammy on the back.

“I love you, man.” Sammy said, pulling away “You're a lucky guy. But when the luck runs out, then... you gotta have a plan, and you never have one. So... I'm out. “

Sammy looked around.

“You're out?” Ari said flatly, his eyebrows raising.

“I'm out.”

“Sammy.” Ari said gently as Sam turned away. He paused and turned to face Ari again, smiling.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Sam quickly walked away down towards the pick-up area outside the terminal, as Ari called his name again, a little louder, but he ignored him.

Ari sighed and looked upwards, wiping a hand over his face before he glanced at Sam’s retreating back just in time to see a flurry of dark, wavy hair rushing towards him. Ari continued to observe from a distance as Sammy hugged his sister back, her face pressed into the side of his neck, Sammy gently rubbing at her back. When he finally let her go, Ari finally got a look at her and he had to smile. The last time he had seen Hannah had been almost 3 years ago, at her husband Andy’s funeral and Ari was pleased to see she looked better than she had that day. Her hair was longer, her cheeks were fuller again, no longer hollow with grief. Her skin was darker, more tanned...she looked healthy, back to her vivacious self along with, he hoped, that spark that bounced in her deep blue eyes, Eyes he knew so well.

He had first met Hannah through Sammy when she was 17, and he was 24. He had liked her from the off, despite being 7 years older than her and there’d been a spark, there was no denying that. But for various reasons, despite a 3 month long sort of fling, it hadn’t worked out. He’d backed off, instead admiring her from afar, constantly telling himself he was too old and no good for her, and then he had met Sarah. Their relationship at first had been based on total, physical attraction and had been a total whirlwind. They had married later that same year after discovering Sarah was pregnant, Ari wanting to do the right thing by her. Their daughter Maya was born 7 months later and for the first 4 years, he had to admit he’d been happy.

Meanwhile, Hannah had started dating another one of their agents and friends, Andy Horowitz. They’d married too and then sadly mere months after they had married Andy had been killed on a mission they’d been running some 3 years ago, a mission Ari had been in charge of.

Hannah said she didn’t blame Ari, but he’d seen it written on every inch of her pretty face. She’d hardly been able to look him in the eyes since Andy’s death, and as a result he had made no effort to reach out in the 3 years since Andy’s funeral. Which he knew was a selfish, shitty thing to do on his behalf, as they’d all been so close, family close even, but Hannah had always worn her heart on her sleeve and he couldn’t face the turmoil and heartbreak she was emanating.

Sammy assured him she didn’t hold him at fault, not really and that she was just upset, compounded by the fact she hadn’t been there and was only hearing everything 2nd hand. But still, it did nothing to assuage Ari’s guilt. Andy’s life cut so tragically short, and Hannah left widowed at such a young age…

The driver’s voice shook Ari out of his thoughts, and when his eyes focussed again he realised he was staring at nothing. Hannah and Sammy both long gone. With a nod to the man he climbed back in the car and they set off for HQ.

**** "You're pissed." Sammy told his sister, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Hanna didn't answer. She stared at the license plate of the car right before them as if it was the magic combination to some sort of treasure chest. She was avoiding looking at her brother. Of course she was pissed, that was out of the question, but she didn't want to discuss that in the middle of the early evening exasperating traffic. Why was the way out of the airport always so crammed with cars?

Sammy turned to look at her and read the signs like an open book. White knuckles from the intensity with which her hands where holding the steering wheel, furrowed brow and a twitch of the mouth where she was biting the inside of her right cheek. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You are pissed. I can tell, Hannah."

"No, I'm not" she replied trying to sound as convincing as possible and hit the car horn three times. "Oh, come on! We all have places to be!"

"Yes, you are. And honking the horn while in a traffic jam won't get you anywhere quicker, you know that?" Sammy said raising an eyebrow at her sudden outburst.

"No, it won't. But it will keep me from slapping you across your stupid face." she bit back, admitting her irritation.

"Ok." Sammy said preparing for what was about to come slouched on the passenger seat "What's on your mind?"

"Damnit, Sammy. You know full well what's on my mind. You know perfectly fucking well." she hissed without even bothering to look at him.

He sighed and nodded as an only answer. Avoiding his sister's gaze, he turned and looked through the passenger window.

"Yet, there you go again." she resumed after a minute, once she had steadied her voice and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Getting yourself arrested. You could have been killed right there on the spot! I just ...."

"Hey…" Sammy said gently rubbing her thigh "It’s ok. I'm ok, right?"

Hannah nodded and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. There were a few minutes of silence in the car as the traffic resumed and Sammy waited patiently for his sister to get herself together before speaking.

"I spoke to Ethan from London, told him I'm out." Sam said.

"What?" Hannah asked surprised looking at her brother before rapidly turning her eyes to the road ahead.

"That last mission... it was just... I'm done. Can't do it anymore." Sam fumbled with the words while he rubbed the scars on his right hand with his left one.

Hannah looked at her brother again, before she sighed, concern flooding her system.

"What happened Sammy?" she asked, her tone soft “It must be something bad to make you want to leave it all behind.”

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. It's just… I'm tired of all that shit and need to get out, that's all." Sam replied trying to convince his sister and, most importantly himself, it was the right decision.

The sight of that woman letting herself drown in the river had taken a toll on him. It haunted him at night and whenever he closed his eyes. He could have done more, he should have saved her, he should have found her under that muddy water and swum with her to safety. But he hadn't been able to and he didn't want to go into another mission where he would lose lives instead of saving them.

"So, what's the plan?" Hannah asked a moment later trying to snap her brother out from the place he seemed to be lost in.

"The plan is getting home, have a shower, eat something decent and sleep till the new full moon." Sam deadpanned with a faint smile.

"I’d also consider a haircut." Hanna quipped smiling at him. "That mop doesn't suit you, neither does the moustache!"

"Yeah, well. Not much you can do when you're down there and under for six weeks." Sam stated before he smiled at her "You, on the other hand, look great, Han"

"Well, that's what you get when you shower and wash your clothes. You stink." she said winking at him and he laughed.

"Seriously though, what are you gonna do? “ Hannah asked him after a moments pause “You gotta have a plan."

"That's exactly what I told Ari..." Sammy shrugged and Hannah’s head whipped once more to look at him.

"Ari?" she asked double checking her brother "Was Ari on the mission with you? Actually, don’t bother answering because of course he was..." she trailed off.

"That reckless, lucky son of a bitch who never seems to have a back-up plan." Sam said before lighting a cigarette. “He was there alright.”

"I'd say the man without a plan has some things very well planned." she mused while tapping the steering wheel with her fingers.

"Yeah, well, as I told him I wanna go back to the clinic. If that's ok with you, that is."

"Of course it is Sam. It's our clinic, remember? And we could do with your help, in fact, it would be a blessing. We've been very busy lately." she said excited by the prospect of having her brother with her again. "Mum will be thrilled to hear that.” “How is she?” Sam asked.

“She’s ok.” Hannah said “I’ve been trying to get her to take it easy, consider retiring but…you know what she’s like.” Sammy snorted “Stubborn, opinionated, always thinks she knows best…that’s where you get it from.” Hannah merely raised her eyebrow and smirked a little. “I dare you to tell her that on Sunday…” “Sunday?” “Yeah, she hasn't told you yet but you're coming for lunch." Hannah smirked as Sammy rolled his eyes, smiling fondly “And she won’t take no for an answer.”

***** “Ladies and gentlemen. This afternoon, historic documents concluding the Treaty of Peace between the Arab Republic of Egypt and the State of Israel will be signed…” Ari could hear the reporter on the news growing louder as he strode through the Mossad HQ towards Ethan’s office.

“Is he in?” he asked Ethan’s secretary, not bothering to wait for an answer.

“Wait, don't go in there…”

“Thanks.” he said, ignoring her as he pushed the door open, giving a small annoyed huff of a laugh as he tossed his back pack to his left where it landed with a thud. He then made his way over to the decanter of scotch on the shelves to the right of the room, Ethan not even bothering to look at him from where he was leaning against his desk, his own tumbler in hand, watching the TV, dressed in a crisp black suit and white shirt as always, his tie impeccably knotted.

“The Prime Minister is about to sign the most important peace accord in our lifetime and he can't enjoy it because of some remote tribe of our people getting massacred on a continent no one cares about.” Ethan said a little emotively, his British accent crisp as ever as he took a sip of his drink.

“Well, maybe you should let me do my job instead of pulling me out.” Ari said, picking up his drink and turning towards the couch at the side of the room.

“Your job includes getting arrested?” Ethan asked, as he stood up straight and turned off the TV. Ari sighed as he slumped on the couch, one leg bent with his foot resting on the low coffee table in front of him “Or is this just another by-product of you being reckless and totally out of control?” he looked at Ari for the first time since he had walked into the room.

“Sudan. My god, Ari…” Ethan snorted angrily, picking up his decanter to top up the glass. “An enemy country in a perpetual state of... fucked-up-ness. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that hiding refugees in a refugee camp was a pretty brilliant idea.” Ari said simply with no trace of irony, as he scratched at an itch on his side before necked his liquor.

“And how do you propose to get them out of there?” Ethan looked at him.

Ari sighed and placed the empty glass on the side next to the phone “Still working on that.”

“This job pays in migraines.” Ethan shook his head as he crossed the room and topped up Ari’s glass. “You look like shit.” he said, pointing to him with the hand that held the decanter which he placed on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Ari replied “Smell like shit, too. I was under for six weeks.” he reached for the now once again full glass as Ethan sat on a chair opposite him.

“How's Sarah?” Ethan asked.

Ari looked down, his finger tapping on the rim of the glass before he placed it back on the side and slumped down on the sofa again, his eyes focussing downwards on his thigh as it bent upwards in front of him, his hand hooking underneath it.

“She left me.”

“Your life's a mess.” Ethan stated and Ari simply raised his eyebrows in agreement “Well, maybe this is a blessing in disguise, then.”

“What is?” Ari asked, as Ethan took a drink. “Are you taking me off this?”

“Exfil is going to come up with some alternative plans for the Ethiopians.” Ethan said as Ari tipped is head back with a frustrated sigh, his hands flying out to his side. “Then we'll discuss with the boss how best to move forward.”

“Ethan, don't do that.” Ari pleaded sitting forward “You know those guys are morons, they're gonna waste months on plans that aren't viable. Months that we don't have. You gotta send me back.”

“Go home, take a shower, spend some time with the family.”

“Ah Fuck!” Ari sighed, before his voice grew louder and he crossed his arms, taking on the tone and appearance of a sullen child “No.”

“No?” Ethan looked at him “It's done, Ari. You're not going anywhere.”

And that was that. Ethan wasn’t for turning. In the end Ari had stormed out of the office, his mood darkening by the second, and it didn’t get any better when he arrived home to find the place dark, empty and a message from Sarah on the answer phone telling him she’d taken Maya to her parents place.

Her parent’s place in fucking New Jersey

“Spend some time with the family…” Ethan’s words rang around his head as he slumped on the bed, beer in hand looking at the now empty side of the closet that had contained most of Sarah’s clothes.

Yeah, chance would be a fine thing.

**** Ari spent the following days on a semi-comatose state. He kept strict grooming and feeding habits, which was something he quite enjoyed after six weeks of not being able to give much thought to it. He also took care of the chores now that it was only him at the house and set up a work-out routine to keep his one-track mind occupied and allow himself to physically blow off some steam.

He was frustrated to say the least. Frustrated at being pulled out by Ethan, who wasn't even willing to reconsider his reinstatement for the time being. And frustrated on how, and it ached to admit, he missed his daughter. He had seen Maya last before leaving for Ethiopia and he had told her, and so had he thought at the time, he would come back home and spend all the time possible with her. But she wasn't there when he came back.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't miss Sarah or, at least, not in the way he should. He did miss spending time with his family or the feeling of having a family to get back to and Sarah was part of that family. And, to tell the truth, he had never been home in this house alone. And, though he was beginning to come to terms with the fact this was his life going forward, he wasn't sure if he liked it. But, on the other hand he was also relieved. Sarah and he had been strained and fighting for so long before he left for the mission that her leaving had almost been a relief. And, in a sense, he was glad she had done it before he was the one who had to suggest that maybe they needed to concede things weren't working between them because, frankly, Ari Levinson was a chicken shit when it came to stuff like that

But what Ari wasn't was cut out for the mundane, office life. A couple of weeks later his mind was in a state of turmoil. He took a trip out to New Jersey for a few weeks under Ethan’s instructions where he spent some quality time with Maya and had a very frank discussion with Sarah. The papers she had left him to sign upon his return from Ethiopia were legal documents which would enter them both into a legal period of 2 years separation and upon the conclusion therefore a Divorce would be mutually agreed. There was no way back for the pair of them, and he was relieved that she felt the same way and signed the papers in presence of an attorney who assured him this was the easiest, least messy way to go about things. Sarah had also agreed to return to Tel Aviv at some point as she conceded that keeping Maya at the other side of the ocean wasn’t fair to him or her. But when that would be, she never said.

All in all he wasn’t feeling great when he returned to HQ at the end of April especially when he was told that Exfil had yet to come up with any decent sort of plan. He told Ethan, once again, that they were fucking morons but was told to steer well clear. But Ari had never been one to stay out of things, or pay any attention to his boss when he thought he knew better. Day and night the idea of getting the refugees out of that Sudanese refugee camp was still haunting him. He had to come up with something and it had to be as soon as possible, before those Exfil idiots fucked it up completely. So after weighing up the situation for week or so more, he decided to get on with it off radar. He knew the best way to get Ethan to hear him out would be coming up with a fool-proof plan-something so absurd, far-fetched if you will, that no one would suspect they were smuggling Jewish refugees out of Ethiopia.

So he did it by stealth, getting on with his normal duties of paper work and communicating with other Intelligence Operatives across the globe playing the co-ordination role Ethan had dumped him in and putting the final touches on the last mission reports he had been doing at Mossad Head Quarters. His day job so to speak.

The night times, however, well, they were his own. And he used them to do a bit of research of his own.

He tried not to be spotted when he went to the archives department and asked the assistant there for a specific microfilm. Last thing he wanted was Ethan or one of his subordinates sniffing he was up to something. At least not before he could flesh his plan out in order to give a proper presentation to Ethan.

And finally, after an arduous period of research and countless sleepless nights it came to him, one warm night at the end of June. He was examining one map of the area on the computer when he noticed the sea. They could do it, the answer had to be in the sea. Ari felt a sudden surge of optimism and started digging into the different possibilities for a way out through sea instead of land and a feasible cover. His smile reached his eyes when he spotted just what he was looking for and a hunch told him to go for it.

It took a few days for him to pull everything together and get what he needed, and contact the people he needed. Which was why, early one July morning he was pacing the Comms room, rubbing his beard nervously, ironically dressed in the same clothes he had been in a few days prior when the idea had originally occurred to him. It was funny now, how he didn’t have Sarah pecking his head about his outfits he simply donned his preferred casual clothing to the office, something his single friends at work seemed to do a hell of a lot. Speaking of which, he was feeling stressed out after a heated argument with his estranged wife over the phone earlier that day about him seeing Maya. She had kept her side of the bargain, returning to Tel Aviv, but as a result he’d moved out of the house, renting a two bed apartment not too far from what had been their family home. He’d had regular access and visits to his daughter, which had been fantastic, but tonight he’d been due to take Maya out for dinner. However, Sarah had changed her mind at the last minute, something to do with her work shifts and it being a school night. When he had pointed out that she didn’t give a shit about her school when she took her over to New Jersey for the best part of a month she’d simply called him an asshole and put the phone down. Unable to concentrate on anything he’d gone for a run and returned to the office when it was dark and most of the people had gone, to find there was still no communication waiting for him, to let him know if his plan was going to work.

And then, finally the fax from the Sudanese Tourist Board arrived and he knew he had a great plan. Now, he had to sell it to Ethan and it couldn't wait, despite the ungodly hour…

“Ethan! I have an idea.” Ari said as he climbed the stairs to Ethan’s apartment, backpack over his shoulder, his arms laden with rolled up maps and papers.

“It’s four o'clock in the morning.” Ethan said exasperatedly.

“It's a really good idea.” Ari assured him as he continued up the stairs. Ethan simply stood back as he entered his apartment “Do you always sleep in a silk robe?” Ari asked, turning to look at him before he headed into the living room. Ethan paused for a moment before he followed him in, shutting the door behind him.

Ethan listened patiently as he explained his plan, and for the most part simply nodded. When Ari finished, Ethan leaned back and smiled softly at him, his fingers drumming on the map Ari had spread over the table.

“You know what Ari…” Ethan said, a smile on his face “This is so ludicrous…it might just work…but you’ll need a good team.”

Ari smirked and handed Ethan another piece of paper, watching as his boss scanned down the names of the Agents and former Agents he had identified.

“This…” Ethan looked at him, shaking his head “This is not a team, it’s a recipe for disaster!”

“They’re the best of the best…” Ari shrugged.

"But the Navons?” Ethan looked at Ari, shaking his head in disbelief “You mean you want both of them? Seriously after everything that’s-?”

"Oh, no, my bad…” Ari said, cutting him off and reaching over and scribbling something on the paper as Ethan let out a sigh of relief before he looked up, his eyes twinkling as Ethan let out a groan as he spotted the correction Ari had made to the name. “She’s a Horowitz now..."

**** It took them a week to get all the details fleshed out to a point where Ethan was happy to take it to his superiors. Ari would have done it that same morning he had gone knocking on Ethan’s door but his boss had insisted on details and plans…something Ari wasn’t all that bothered by, preferring to work in the spur of the moment. Still, Ethan had insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sell the idea without answering questions, and had lectured him in great detail on the 5Ps, or 6 Ps in this case…

Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance…

He had to admit, however, Ethan had been right. As he began to spell out his ideas and plans to Isaacs, the Mossad Chief, he found himself being able to speak confidently, not just because he had conviction in his idea, but because he never once found himself lacking the ability to explain.

“The majority are coming in from Gondar and Tigray right there…” Ari said, leaning over from his chair to point at the map which was spread out on the desk. “But we can't land our planes anywhere near there.”

“Why?” Isaacs asked, looking at Ari from where he sat in his chair.

“Derg brought in the Russians and Cubans. It's limiting everyone's mobility. The chance of landing a plane without being noticed is non-existent.” Ari explained “The only way to get a substantial number out is by sea.”

“Ethiopia's practically landlocked.” Isaacs said, leaning forward and gesturing at the map.

Ari nodded in agreement, his hand rubbing at his beard before he looked at Ethan who was sat next to him in the other chair. Ethan inclined his eyes at Isaacs, instructing Ari to continue, so he did.

“But Sudan isn't.”

Isaacs paused from looking at the map and then glanced at Ari to Ethan and then back again.

“Seriously?”

Ari nodded.

Isaacs leaned back. “Something tells me this is going to take a bit longer than a few hours to explain…”

Ethan smiled a little and nodded “You could say that, yes.” “Ok…” Isaacs sighed, reaching for his phone “Let me make a few calls. I need to get my advisors down here…and food.” So that’s what he did. Ari found himself repeating various points again and again to different people as they headed in with various files, paper, pens…and he was getting a little frustrated as the night started to draw in. But he kept calm, taking his lead from Ethan who jumped in whenever he could sense Ari was starting to lose his cool a little, and Ari was thankful for the fact his boss was there.

“How long does it take to get from Sudan to Sinai by boat?” Isaacs asked.

“It takes three days.” Ethan began “You can…” “Just a-- Hold on a sec.” Isaacs said as Ari dropped his hands to his hips, leaning back against the large cupboard he was stood in front of. “Even if this could work, you'd need a team of agents on the ground. A team with international background.” Ethan and Ari exchanged a look, and both nodded at Isaacs as he continued “How are you gonna keep our agents that long inside an enemy state?”

“This is where it gets really good.” Ethan said, nodding at Ari who pulled an aerial shot out of the pack of files he had brought with him. Ari handed it to Isaacs.

“Red Sea Diving Resort. It's a hotel built by an Italian company in the early '70s.” Ari explained as he walked back to his leaning post, arms folded. “Fifty kilometres north of Port Sudan. The Italian company abandoned it five years ago. Now the Sudanese government is looking to lease it, to boost tourism.”

The room fell silent as Isaacs looked at the photo, his expression perplexed which then morphed into surprise. He looked at Ari, how shifted a little uncomfortably, waiting for him to comment on the idea. Instead Isaacs stood up, and moved to his phone.

“Ask the Defence Minister if he can join us.” he said simply, and Ethan glanced at Ari, giving him a smile.

About twenty minutes later, the Defence Minister a Mr Henry Weiss joined them and listened carefully to what they had to say, Ari explaining once again what the outline of his plan was. It took him another hour, and it felt like he had been explaining this all day. Which, in reality, he had.

“Let me get this straight.” Weiss said, sitting on the edge of the desk as Isaacs sat in the chair behind hit, both hands behind his head as he was flanked by various other people from his agency, all of them watching Ari who was sat perched on another unit to Weiss’ right “You want Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service, to purchase an abandoned hotel from the Sudanese government.”

“Lease, but yeah.” Ari said, nodding, his hand curling around his chin and mouth in an L-shape.

“Abandoned because?”

“Because the area where it's located is lawless. It's controlled by the Hadandawa.” Ari said, and for the first time he started to feel a little less confident.

“By the who?” Weiss looked at him

“It's a Bedouin tribe.” Ari supplied.

“Translates, The Lion Clan” Tellem, one of the military agents stood around the room supplied “Known for cannibalizing their enemies.”

“No…” Ari quickly began to protest as Isaacs glanced at the military agent who had spoken. “That's...” he took a pause and looked at Ethan who shifted and stared at Ari. And Ari knew why, because he hadn’t told any of this to Ethan. “ No, that's... not anymore.” Ari folded his arms in front of him. “Now it's... human trafficking. -Girls to Jedda, that sort of thing—“

“This... just gets better and better.” Ethan looked at Ari.

“So, your idea, just to reiterate…” Weiss drew the attention back to him “Is to send a group of Jews to a Muslim country, to a place where they might get eaten by Bedouins, to run a fake hotel, in order to rescue a group of black Jews who might or might not survive a 1,000-kilometer walk across the desert, to be smuggled out to sea by Israeli Navy Seals to an Israeli ship.”

“Disguised as a petroleum service vessel, yeah.” Ari said, smiling slightly.

“That's ridiculous.” Tellem said with a sigh.

There was silence around the room. Ari looked up, and could take no read on anyone’s body language. He locked eyes with Ethan who gave him a sympathetic look and he let out a breath shaking his head.

Back to the drawing board.

“Is NATCOR still operational?” Weiss asked suddenly as Ari stood up.

“Yep” Isaacs replied, his eyes on Ari.

“What's NATCOR?” Ari frowned, hands on his hips.

“It's a shore company in Switzerland we use for large transactions.” Isaacs said simply

“How large?” Ari asked, not sure what this had to do with anything.

“Like leasing a hotel.” Isaacs said.

Well, shit!

With a small smile, one that was more from shock than victory he looked at Ethan who eyed him appraisingly.

“How long do you need?” Weiss asked and looked at Isaacs.

“I can pull the strings in NATCOR in a week or so but I need to know how much we need and when for.” Isaacs said, and once again all attention turned to Ari and Ethan.

“We’ll need a couple of months to pull the team together, get everything organised…leasing agreements that sort of thing…” Ethan said, looking at Ari

“Give me 3 months.” Ari nodded in agreement. “Maximum.”

*****

It turns out that the Sudanese Tourism Board play hard ball. 6 weeks it took. 6 fucking weeks to negotiate a price and a timescale. Originally they’d been willing to lease the Diving Resort from the middle of March until, after agreement of a slightly higher price, they had brought the date forward to January. That was still too far away for Ari’s liking, but as Ethan had reminded him if they missed even one cross on a t or a dot on an I, they were done for.

Finally, at the end of August, they had ironed out every crease they could see, and the confirmation that they had been accepted to hire the abandoned resort came through. A week later, at the start of September, Ari left Tel-Aviv again to start his recruiting spree. First stop, a Pan Am plane with destination Belize.

He was having a coffee and tapping some stray sugar grains on the table surface with his index finger's pad absent-mindedly when his plane was called. His mind went to Maya as he waited in line, boarding pass in hand. He’d spent a lot of time with her over the last week, deliberately, and he knew she understood why he didn’t live with them anymore, but she hadn’t understood why he was going to be going away again. And then, on the last day before he left she had been especially quiet and brooding. Ari had tried to make small conversation with her but had failed and had opted to explain to his daughter why he had to go, as best as he could. She still hadn't reacted as Ari expected and he had to admit defeat. The final blow had come when he had asked Maya about the drawing he was holding of her family, a drawing he was absent from, and she had told her father he wasn't in the picture because he was at work. He hadn’t mentioned it to Sarah, it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

"You've got to be kidding me" Rachel Reiter said to Ari with a chuckle as she stopped at the end of his row, trolley before her "What are you doing on this flight?" she added impersonating the perfect flight attendant.

"I'd like some tomato juice, please." Ari ordered with a smile.

She served him his tomato juice and sat on the free seat next to him. Ari explained to her he had pulled some strings to find out which flight she would be working. Not that Rachel needed to know. She was perfectly aware of what Ari was capable of and how Mossad worked. Thus, she explained the mission she was on, having scanned the briefcase of a passenger, a PLO accountant.

Ari spent the following five minutes explaining briefly what the mission he was attempting to recruit her for consisted of.

"Ex is in stable asshole condition. Kids are perfect." Rachel told Ari when he asked about her family.

"And you're ok leaving them for an unknown amount of time?" he asked waiting for the confirmation she was in.

"If we don't do something no one will" was what Ari replied Rachel after she asked him to give her a good enough reason to enrol. And that was more than enough, as she smiled and nodded imperceptibly.

"Tell me one last thing." Rachel said standing up and brushing her skirt. "Who's in Belize?"

"Excuse me?" Ari asked with a poker face.

"I know you Ari. I've been running small missions on flights for the past 5 months, they must have told you. And yet you have chosen exactly this one to come talk to me?" she said whispering as she leaned to grab the tray where the now empty glass of tomato juice lay.

"Wait and see Rachel." he said with a broad smile. "I'll be in touch soon."

*******

It was hot, very hot when, a day later Ari sat at a table in a beach bar in Half Moon Caye waiting for Jake to finish his private lesson. Not exactly a diving one.

"What brings the great Ari Levinson all the way to Belize?" Jake Wolf greeted Ari from the door of the decompression tank, wearing nothing more than a dazzling smile.

"I have a unique mission to offer you." Ari told him "But I'm not gonna offer you anything until you cover yourself up" he joked watching as Jake approached him, arms open to give him a hug.

Jake ignored his friend’s request and after brazenly taking a cigarette out of Ari's packet sat on the chair facing him. Ari explained to Jake that he needed someone with expertise and diving skills for a mission related to what in Jake's words was a bloody genocide no one gives a shit about because it's in Africa.

So when Ari told him that his Prime Minister had decided to give a shit, he was convinced he had gained Jake's adventurous spirit and he would be on board.

An hour and some beers later, Ari had explained to Jake the mission in detail and they both had caught up on their lives.

"Be ready to be called in in about a month give or take." Ari told Jake who nodded.

"Why don't you stay a couple of days? Look around you. This is paradise, my friend." Jake said a big grin and open arms pointing at the white sand beach and tropical palm trees.

"I have a flight tomorrow morning." Ari had to refuse his friend’s offer, implying he had still places to be and people to recruit.

"Where to?" Jake asked knowingly.

"Amsterdam." Ari answered before puffing his cigarette. “At least that’s where my next victim was last time I checked…”

Jake just nodded, a faint glimmer of a smile showing, before saying "Then, the night is young. Let's make the most of it before you leave."

******

"You fucked up my lunch, man" Max Rose told Ari after lowering the gun he was pointing at his former mentor.

A mixture of relief and annoyance crossed Max’s face as he waited for Ari to give an explanation as to why was he sat in his arm chair, in the middle of his rented flat in Amsterdam, reading the fucking newspaper with a stupid grin on his stupid face.

"I have a mission for you." Ari said.

"Of course, you have" Max scoffed before hugging him. "But you're buying me lunch if you want me to listen to you."

And that's what they did. Ari knew if you had to win Max over, it had to be around food. After explaining the mission and what Max’s role would be, Ari had one last question and he had deliberately saved it for last when he knew Max would already be on board.

"Max, I need to know you're fine with all this because I need you to be focused. Are you ready to go back down there after Andy?"

"Absolutely." Max said without hesitating. But Ari could see a glint of sadness in his eyes.

"Good." Ari said sympathetically "Then I guess I'll contact you in a month or so." Ari added before he raised his glass to toast for the mission.

***** 4 days later, just over a week after leaving, Ari was back in Tel-Aviv, having saved the discussion he knew was going to be the hardest until last.

He sat in the waiting room of the Ethan Navon Memorial Clinic, a place in which he hadn’t been for easily over 5 years, and was eventually ushered into the Examination Room where the nurse popped a thermometer under his tongue as he sat on the trolley, waiting.

“How can I help you Mr…Aw, fuck me!” Sammy groaned as he looked at Ari who gave him a cheeky smile “What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing here?” he turned to his nurse “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Hey, hey, just... Calm down.” Ari said gently, “I need to talk to you. Five minutes.”

Sammy tossed his file and glasses down on to the small equipment trolley and said something to his Nurse. She nodded, making a hasty exit and as Sammy went to close the door it stopped before he could shut it fully and swung fully open again, Hannah stepping into the room, frowning at her brother.

“Sammy? What's going on? I can hear you shouting all the way over in the other room? What’s the…” she trailed off as Sammy nodded towards Ari, her mouth falling open when she saw him “Fuck me…”

"Hey Hannah, how you doing?” Ari gave her a small smile. “You look great by the way."

And he meant it. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and she was dressed in a simple pencil skirt and blouse, her white doctors coat open.

"What do you want Ari?" she asked softly.

“It's a nice clinic you got.” Ari said, taking the thermometer out of his mouth, ”Save a lot of lives here?

“No. But we don't take any lives either.” Hannah shrugged as Ari took a deep breath, steeping his hands together.

“I know how to get 'em out, Sammy.”

Sam scoffed

“I got a plan. And it's good.” Ari was almost whispering with excitement as he stood up off the bed.

“Yeah, that's...” Sam looked at his sister, laughing sarcastically “That's what you always say, until everything goes to shit.”

“Right, just hear me out. You don't like what I gotta say, I'm going.” Hannah and Sammy both exchanged a look as Ari began to pull the documents and details out of his rucksack, standing on the other side of the examination bench.

“Ari…” Hannah began as she stepped forwards, but Sam gently touched her arm and he moved towards Ari, shaking his head.

“Ari, Ari…no…”

“What? You don't wanna hear the plan?” Ari asked gently.

“Stop.” Sam instructed him.

“You don't wanna hear it? You'd rather be here than in the field?” Ari asked, disbelief in his tone as his voice grew louder.

“Shh!” Hannah instructed the pair of them as Sammy began packing the stuff back into Ari’s backpack for him.

“Why?” Ari pressed “You're the best field doctor I know.”

“I used to be.” Sam said gently “Back when I had two good hands.”

“Hey, both hands tied behind your back, you're still the best.” Ari said honestly. Sam paused and looked at him for a second, before Ari took a deep breath. “I need you on this one….” he looked over Sammy’s shoulder and locked eyes with Hannah “Both of you.”

She frowned a little, her arms unfolding and dropping to her hips as she studied him.

“I can't do it without you.” Ari finished, diverting his attention back to Sam. Hannah watched her brother who paused for a moment, before he turned and walked past her, opening the door. He glanced back at Ari and said, quite forcefully.

“No.”

Hanna’s gaze dropped to the floor as Ari gave a small sigh “Alright…” and gathered up his belongings “Okay…” She looked up at him as he walked past, and he gave her a pleading look which she met with a passive one of her own as he gave her a sad smile, before he walked out, Sam avoiding his gaze as he did so.

The two siblings stood in silence for a moment before Hannah met Sam’s eyes.

“Oh no…” Sam groaned “Seriously…” “Can it hurt to hear him out?” She asked gently.

“Are you serious? For fucks sake…”Sam groaned. “You are, aren’t you?”

Hannah shrugged. Sam eyed his sister again and then rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine we’ll listen...” Sam said loudly, as he walked into the doorway, leaning out of it as Ari stopped and turned to face him “But only out of curiosity…because I'm still gonna say no.”

Both siblings ushered Ari to Sam's office, Hannah leading the way. She opened the door to let both men in.

Ari could smell a familiar scent of vanilla when he walked past Hannah into the room and couldn't help but smile softly at her but she was staring at her feet and didn't notice. He tried to make eye contact with her as she helped Sammy to clear the small round table at the right far corner of the office, but to no avail. He could only catch a glimpse of her long eyelashes where the locks that had fallen off her bun allowed him to.

It was only when Sam asked him to do what he had to do that she raised her head from the table and her big blue eyes looked directly at his, stopping there for a couple of seconds. A couple of seconds which Ari hoped had been enough to convey the message he wanted her to get. One second; I'm sorry. Another one; help me out in this.

A couple of seconds later her gaze went to the back pack that hanged from his left shoulder. Battered, colour faded by uncountable missions and frayed at the seams.

"Ever thought of changing that? It could use a bit of a wash?" Hannah asked, her head nodding towards the back pack as she crossed her arms over her chest.

He looked at it confused and when he returned his eyes to Hannah saw she was smiling.

"It's been with me through thick and thin. Couldn't get rid of it at this point." Ari replied returning the smile and placing the back pack on the table.

"All right, let's get this over with." Sammy urged Ari while he took a lot of documents, photographs and maps out.

Sam wasn't willing to spend any more second on pleasantries. He knew if he gave Ari the chance, he was bound to dive head first into whatever crazy plan he had come up with this time and the quicker he did that, the quicker he could tell him to piss off.

Thus, Ari spread the documents out and for the following 45 minutes he talked Sam and Hannah through his plan for the mission. He had been more thorough with details and careful with sensitive information as he knew Sam would be a harder nut to crack than Rachel, Jake or Max. Especially if he wanted Hannah in.

Both siblings remained silent during the explanation. Sharing a glance from time to time, but Ari was too excited and focused on trying to explain his plan well to read too much into it. When he finished he put his hands on his hips, blew a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead and grinned with satisfaction, looking at them expectantly

Sammy, who had his arms crossed, moved a hand to his face rubbing his jaw and his eyes flicked a moment from the documents on the table to his sister. Hannah wasn’t looking at her brother, however, her attention was solely on the information Ari had set out.

"Is that a brochure for the hotel?" she asked as she took a brightly coloured and glossy document which was folded in the middle.

"Yup." he said popping the p.

"You've really given this plenty of thought." she said admiring the brochure as well as the rest of maps and planning documents scattered over the table.

"I have." Ari replied, his eyes pleading with her.

"So, just to be clear, you want us all to play house while smuggling refugees in and then out of fucking Sudan." Sam snorted.

"Basically, yes. And you sound like one of Isaacs' dogs." Ari protested.

Sam was about to bite back when Hannah grabbed his arm to cool him down.

"I think it's a brilliant plan." she said looking from Sam to Ari.

"Yeah, now he's the man with a plan." Sam scoffed and turned to look at her sister "And I don't care what you think, you're not going."

"Are you listening to yourself, Sam?" she said visibly annoyed at her brother’s overprotectiveness "You don't get to say what I am or am not doing. You hear me?"

Ari lowered his head and smiled at Hannah's outburst. She had always been an independent and opinionated girl and that had caught his attention right from the start. And she had turned into the determined and strong-willed gorgeous woman that stood there right in front of him, telling her older brother to basically fuck off. Ari couldn’t help but think how different she was from Sarah, who had become so clingy and demanding over the last few years.

"How do you even plan on getting all this up and running?" Sam asked Ari ignoring his sister.

"I said I’d have the details ironed out and a team assembled in 3 months and that was eight and a half weeks ago now, give or take” he said, looking at Sam then to Hannah “ I've got another three or so weeks to come up with covers for everyone and hand them out for memorizing. If everything goes to plan then we should be ready to deploy in January.”

Sam sighed and looked up at his sister who was busy studying the map, her sharp eyes roving over the details. Ari watched her for a second as she bit her lip before he looked back at Sam.

"I need you in this Sammy. I can't do it without you." he pleaded. Sam gave him a look, before he turned away shaking his head, clearly lost in his conflicting thoughts. Ari then switched his attention to Hannah. "And I need you too, Firefly.” At the use of his nickname for her she looked up, her eyes locking onto Ari’s a faint smile playing on her face as he held her gaze” I know I'm in no position to ask you to come with me. Not after what happened to Andy. But I really need a female doctor to take care of those refugee women."

Hannah visibly faltered at the mention of Andy. She hadn’t expected to hear his name, least of all from Ari's lips. He was really bringing the big guns out. But then again, persuasion tactics aside, it was a good plan and he was right about needing a woman to help out. Sammy had told her what had happened to that woman that had let herself drown on his last mission after they had found her bloodied and bruised by a tree after a vicious rape. It was common for women to be abused like that by the local authorities who persecuted them, and if there was something she could do to help, then Hannah already knew deep down that wouldn't be sitting the mission out. Andy wouldn't have done either and she was willing to bet Sam was already considering taking up Ari's offer. That fucking handsome bastard always got what he wanted. She would know.

"Which dumbasses have you got to agree to it so far?" Sammy asked, moving the discussion swiftly on. He had spotted his sister’s reaction to the mention of her late husband. She’d visibly wavered and Sammy had seen her right hand go straight to her necklace, where she wore her engagement ring and wedding band, an action she always undertook when she was nervous or the memory of Andy hit her. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ari either.

"Jake Wolf, who you know from a few missions, Max and Rachel..." Ari offered, turning to Sam.

"Max?" Hannah asked still fiddling with her necklace, but a look of surprise now on her face “Max agreed?”

Ari nodded smiling at her. He knew she would be in when she heard the name of her best friend. That was the reason he hadn't mentioned the names of the rest of the team along with the explanation and ensuing conversation. It was an ace up his sleeve he hadn’t wanted to play until necessary. And Sammy, good old Sammy, had provided him with the opportunity on a silver plate. A simple list of names, strategically ordered, and the match point was his.

Hannah looked at her brother and gave him a smile, inclining her head slightly, an action Ari knew all too well to be her conceding her agreement. He managed to resist the urge to punch the air in victory, but didn’t fight the smirk that slid across his face as he turned to Sam and asked.

"Are you dumbass enough to jump in?"

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Man and Wife Pt.09

The Surprise Visit

04/23/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 11,982

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: violence, language, a smidge of angst, pregnancy cuteness, pregnancy scariness, pregnancy cuteness again, spilled tomato sauce

A/N: So, I asked myself; Do they want it now? Or should I make a third pass of edits? I thought you guys might say, “NOW!” so, I’m posting it now. I’ll edit again tomorrow however, so, heads up! I hope you all like this one. You asked for less angst and I give less angst but there’s still some because come one, it needs to be there, story wise. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo P.S. I’m so sorry I didn’t respond to the comments for part 8! I love y’all!

“Excuse me? Miss! Shit. Hold on.” The chair squeaks loudly as Bucky rises, making himself as small as possible as he lumbers towards the redheaded waitress who’d just left you.

Your heart shakes as you watch him chase after her; tall, strong arms, milky skin. She’s beautiful. You force yourself to focus on Bucky instead. You know why he’s up and you remind yourself that he’s here with you.

Your lips curve up into a small smile as you watch Bucky try hard to be as nonthreatening as possible but still the waitress gasps when she turns around and falls against the register. Bucky holds his hands up and you can tell that he’s apologizing. His cheeks flame red and you feel a twinge of deep affection at his cuteness but also the sting of pain because people are still afraid of him.

He tucks his metal hand behind him, holding it away from the waitress as he gestures towards you and then moves back as the woman sidles along the counter and back into the kitchen of the small sandwich shop you and Bucky had come to for lunch.

You reach down to tug your shirt more tightly over your still teeny tiny bump. You’re not really showing yet. Everyone who doesn’t know you might think you’d just had a big lunch. But to your friends, they see you and they know instantly.

You’re still small enough that your shirt fits loosely around you but because you know the baby’s in there, you fuss over your stomach. The jean cut-off shorts are shorter than you normally wear but Spring seems to be heating up quickly and your hormones must be raging because you’re hot a lot of the time now.

You fuss with your shirt more, thin black and white striped shirt with three-quarter sleeves, making sure not to let the loose cuff around your forearm dip into your ranch. A small stack of sliced tomatoes just waiting to be dipped beside it.

You grab one, holding it carefully between your thumb and index finger, dip it lightly, and savor the flavors as they fall across your tongue.

Moaning with contentment, your stomach fluttering as your hunger pangs grow stronger, Bucky turns towards you at the sound. Even all the way across the shop he can hear your whispered cry of satisfaction.

He smiles at you, watching you chew, then turns back to the redhead as she holds out a small white bowl for him to take.

“Thank you!” He says, too excited but he hurries back towards you and slides into his chair, making it squeak against the floor again. “Here you go, kitten.”

He places the bowl of pickles beside the one with tomato.

“Thank you.” Being this happy with Bucky again…you hadn’t thought it would be possible. You watch him pull his plate closer but after every adjustment he makes to his food, he reaches over and fixes something on your plate. Or he grabs you a napkin and places it on your too exposed legs. Or he pushes your pickles closer. Or he assess the fullness of your lemonade.

You finally chuckle. “Bucky just eat. I’m fine.”

He stops, staring at you as you shove another tomato into your mouth, quickly followed by a plain dill pickle slice and you can almost see the swell of pride as he sits up straighter, breathes in deeply, and then relaxes.

“Okay.” He sighs and finally takes a bite of his sandwich.

The walk into the park is nice. Bucky shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans to keep from reaching over and taking your hand.

It’s only been two weeks since you and he “made up”. Things aren’t exactly right yet but they’re on their way and you’re happy. Well…you’re happy until-

“You’re Bucky Barnes, right?” A cool sweet voice stops the two of you in your tracks.

You told him that hat wouldn’t hide him.

“Er…yeah.” Bucky replies, staring at the young brunette. She’s petite, tiny compared to him but the curve of her body tells you she’s woman enough.

“Can I take a picture with you? My cousin has such a crush on you!” She gushes not sparing you a glance.

“Oh um, okay.” Bucky replies nervously and you quickly move aside as the girl settles into the crook of his right arm.

You swallow hard, trying not to let this upset you. She’s a fan. No big deal…right?

But you can’t watch as two more girls hurry forward, friends of the first apparently. You turn away from them and keep walking.

It’s silly. It’s stupid. It’s embarrassing and completely unexpected, but you’re crying as you walk away. The ache in your chest cannot be silenced.

His jogging feet shift along the cement pathway, creating a consistent scrape, scrape, scrape, sound as he catches up with you.

“Sorry about that, I-Y/N?”

You look away from him as he leans forward, trying to get a look at your face.

“Are you crying?”

“I think I wanna go home now.” You mumble, your voice thick around the lump in your throat.

This isn’t your first date with Bucky. For the first he’d really stuck to the cliché. Movie, dinner, and then drinks after, though that had been tea for you and a soda for him. When you’d asked him why he wasn’t going to have a real drink, he shook his head.

“I don’t drink anymore.”

“But…you can’t even get drunk?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you crying?” He asks, moving to stand in front of you to stop your progress.

Angrily you wipe at your cheeks, hating your body for betraying you like this.

Bucky’s head scans the people behind you. “Is it because of those girls?”

You say nothing, afraid of sounding stupid or worse, like a jealous wife. It’s only when Bucky’s warm hands burn through the sleeves of your shirt that you look at him.

“Y/N? Please don’t shut me out. You’re upset. Tell me why.”

He’s right. You shouldn’t keep this to yourself. Not like before.

“Is it really okay f-for me to tell you?”

“Of course, kitten. If I’m doing something or if I’ve said something-”

“I don’t like you taking pictures with hot girls.”

Bucky looks over your head again, searching for his fans.

“Hot?” He asks, confused. He takes a moment, he’s so silent that you think maybe you’ve angered him but when you look at his face, you see the pucker between his eyes as he thinks. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You ask, still staring up at him.

“Okay.” He nods. “No more pictures with fans. Female fans.”

Your mind explodes with glee and then you can see the reality of what you’re asking him. You can see the forums and comment sections of articles and pictures of Bucky with male fans. You can almost hear the disdain on tumblr and Instagram as his intense fan base spouts hate because his controlling wife is so jealous that he won’t take pictures with girls anymore.

“No.” You sigh, shaking your head. “No, Bucky, you can’t do that. They’ll hate me.”

“Who will?”

“Everyone.” You rub your belly, protective of the little one within. You know it’s stupid to fear these faceless people. They don’t actually know who you are, but they know he has a wife. You hate the idea of anyone sending you negative vibes with the baby coming. “I just wanna go home.”

You stare at his chest, unwilling to look up and see the disappointment in his face. Hot hands cup your cheeks, strong thumbs—one cool, one blazing—rub rough circles as they wipe away tears. The gesture does what he wants, it makes you look at him.

“I love you, Y/N. Please don’t doubt that.”

“You’re expecting too much from me, Bucky. You cheated on me. I saw you in bed with someone else. Our bed. I can’t erase that or how it made me feel. I already thought I wasn’t good enough for you-”

He growls but it’s not directed at you, he steps closer, all care of who may be watching flying out the window. “I love you. I’m sorry that you had to see me that way. It’s not something that I ever thought I would do—I won’t make excuses because I can’t but please never say that again.”

“Say what?”

“That you aren’t good enough for me. You are so good, Y/N. Too good. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.” He suddenly straightens up and sees that a few people are watching. He renews the distance between you and sighs. “Are you free next Wednesday?”

You’re so fucking free. Since quitting your job, you’ve taken on some editing gigs to tide you over but you’re officially out of a job. You nod.

“I want you to meet my therapist. I want you there at my next session.”

“For what?” You wonder, excited that he wants you at something so private but also worried that the doctor will tell you that you’re the reason everything went wrong in your marriage.

“Because I want you to see me, Y/N. And I want you to see the way I see you.”

“Hello again, Y/N.”

“Hello, Dr. Garza.” You take your seat to Bucky’s right. He’s already sitting but he pulls a pillow over for you so that you can lean back against it on the long black sofa. “I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” He says and pulls his hands back between he knees. He looks so handsome in his dark gray jeans and bright red t-shirt.

As you fix the pillow, you look up at the doc to see her watching Bucky with keen eyes. You’ve been here three times already and you definitely understand Bucky much more. You see his self-hatred and that alone breaks your heart.

You heard all about his worries for you and can see yourself through his eyes a bit better but mostly that just makes you feel like you’re weak and still—despite his reassurances—ill-suited for him.

“Why are you fussing over Y/N, Bucky?” Dr. Garza dives right in, no waiting and you still beside Bucky, looking to him as you and she both wait for his answer.

Bucky blushes. “I…just want her to be comfortable.”

“What made you think she wasn’t?”

“Nothing. I guess I-I feel guilty.”

You’re in utter awe at the way Dr. Garza can pull these words out of Bucky. He’s getting better at telling you things clearly. Speaking his truth. There are way fewer misunderstandings between the two of you. Less bickering though women are still a problem. And men.

~~~~~~~~~~

You struggle in the aisle, reaching up high to try and grab the large box of paper. Buying in bulk is a necessity. Since you’re on your own now, you have to pay for the expense of printing out manuscripts on your own.

You groan, pushing yourself up higher on your tiptoes and manage to get the box to the edge when it suddenly comes barreling towards you, twenty pounds of premium no-smudge paper. You let out a squeak of fear, throwing your arms up over your head but curling in on yourself to shield your tummy from harm.

The box never lands. You feel hot heavy breath hit the top of your head and strong body heat wrapped around your right side. Relief warms you; Bucky had saved you!

Only it wasn’t Bucky. Just a man. No one you know. He’s taller than you, not as tall as Bucky, a soft body—this guy is like you, he doesn’t work out. His blonde hair is long, though nowhere near as long as Bucky’s. His startled brown eyes stare down at you with worry.

“Are you okay, miss?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice cuts through the aisle and you jump, startled by it. Almost as if you were caught doing something wrong.

He’s at your side instantly, moving between you and the man who saved your head. You watch his face and see him glare death at your rescuer.

“What happened?” He asks, then turns his eyes on you, full of concern.

“I was trying to get the box and it fell.”

“I just caught the box, man. She’s okay.” You can hear the tremble in the man’s voice and feel bad for him. Today, Bucky has made no attempt to hide his metal arm. He’s wearing an old black t-shirt, the sleeves cut off and a pair of gray joggers pants.

Bucky takes the box from the guy’s hands roughly, standing much too close to you—not that you mind too much. He looks really fucking good in that shirt and those pants—clearly displaying his claim.

“Yeah, thanks for saving my wife, bud.” Bucky’s words are kind, but his tone is a downright threat.

All sweat and stutters, the man nods, gives you a nervous smile and when Bucky drops the box of paper into your cart, the man jumps then turns and scurries away.

“That wasn’t nice.” You tell him. “He was just trying to help me.”

“I know he was.” Bucky says, and in one of the only moments that you let him show you affection, he reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear, slipping his hand around your waist. “I thanked him.”

“You threatened him, Bucky.”

“You’re impossible to resist protecting. You bring that out in people, you know that? Especially guys.”

“Don’t be stupid.” You scoff and turn away from him to push your cart into the next aisle. He falls in step behind you.

“I’m serious. It’s like people can’t help it.”

By people, you know that he means Henry. You can hear the drag in his voice as he tries to sound as nonchalant as possible.

You stop, turn to face him, leaning against the cart so that the long handle pokes into your back.

“Bucky, I only slept with H-” His eyes are ice-fire, searing and angry. “-with him because I’d known him for so long. I used to like him. I wanted to be with him at one point. I’m not going to sleep with some random guy I just met.”

Of course, the irony of the sentence you just spoke is not lost on you and Bucky’s eyes soften. The fire of rage extinguished as he laughs once.

You laugh too. Squeezing your eyes shut before you open them again to watch him smile.

“No.” Bucky agrees but he moves towards you and turns you around so that you start to walk again, pushing the cart. He leans in towards your ear, his hands and arms right beside your own on that cart’s handle. “Not again, huh?”

You give in, the moment too good to pass up. You lean back, letting him walk with you, relishing in the comforting warmth of his hard chest. “Never again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why?” Dr. Garza wonders.

You try not to look at Bucky when he’s baring his soul. He doesn’t need the added pressure of you staring at him.

“Because of what I did. Sleeping with P-” He stops, like you did in the office supply store, knowing that hearing her name will bring you pain. “-with that other woman.”

“Y/N?”

You look up, surprised to be addressed when all the sessions before had taken place as if you weren’t sitting in the room with them.

“Yes?”

“How does Bucky’s fussing make you feel?”

You swallow hard, hesitant about speaking the truth.

“There are no secrets in this room, Y/N. We don’t hide how we feel. We speak it aloud. From what I understand, you’ve always had a problem with telling Bucky how you’re feeling?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was afraid.” You admit, staring at Dr. Garza and only her. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you though, his body angled towards you.

“Of what?”

“Of making him angry. Of-fighting over nothing. Of being a nuisance?”

“You’re not a nuisance, Y/N.” Bucky rushes to say. “How can you-?”

“Bucky.” The doc says sternly, and he clenches his jaw, shutting himself up. “Let’s not interrupt Y/N when she’s talking. I want you to really hear her, okay? And wait until she’s finished before replying.”

Bucky nods.

“Why did you feel that way, Y/N? What made you think that you’d be a nuisance to Bucky?”

You laugh once, a scoff more than anything, but it isn’t bitter, just an exclamation of exasperation. A duh. “Look at him.”

Even with his face all scrunched up, body curled toward you as he fights his urge to reach out to you, he’s visual perfection. Guy that look like Bucky don’t date girls like you, much less marry them. Or so your experience has taught you.

“Bucky is the most handsome man I’ve ever met. And he married me? It’s-I’ve pinched myself a million times trying to see if it was a dream.” You shake your head.

“Is that the only reason that you married Bucky?”

“No! Of course not. His…I didn’t even like him when I first met him. I thought he was a pervert.” You admit, and this time you smile.

“Why?”

Bucky’s also smiling and he meets your eyes. The two of you laugh and Bucky clears his throat. “We sort of met in an unconventional sort of way. I tripped and went headfirst into her chest. She was wearing this low pink V-cut bathing suit. It was pleasant for me. Not so much for Y/N.”

Your cheeks burn. “I didn’t fall for him until he showed up with a bandage for my foot. I’d skinned it when I was walking around the lazy river ride, with the tubes? I’d been limping around on it and Bucky found me. Apologized for the way we met, and then dressed my foot.

“I knew who he was. I’d been a fan before. His story, although I’ve learned more details recently about his experiences, it moved me. So, when I met him, I wasn’t afraid of him like some of my friends in high school had been. All I saw was this sweet guy trying to apologize for shoving his face into my boobs.

“It was that more than anything that drew me in. He was so careful with me, so easy with his smile. I really did fall in love with you that day, Bucky. And when I agreed to marry you, I-I knew that it would be hard, but I never expected this to happen.”

And suddenly, you’re crying, your chest burning with pain and remorse because you did it to him too. You hurt him the way he hurt you. And yours…it feels worse because from what he’s said, the woman he’d slept with had been convenience. She’d just been there.

Henry for you had been deeper. A buildup and culmination of four years of pent up attraction. Emotions had been involved there. You’d liked Henry.

“So,” Dr. Garza says carefully. “How does Bucky’s fussing make you feel, Y/N?”

You turn to look at her, tearing your eyes away from Bucky as your tears continue to pour, rapid falls carving salty divots.

“Guilty. I hurt him too. I should have done more. I should have told you that I don’t like being away from you for days on end. I should have told you that when you leave me in the mornings, it feels like you’re choosing other people over me. I shouldn’t feel that way because I know that Steve and Sam are important to you. But it was too much. You were gone for days and then you still chose to be with them over me when you were finally home? And I should have told you that it was hurting me.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Bucky’s face is contorted with agony, his right hand reaches out for your left and you take it, you squeeze it. You hold on for dear life because this man is everything. He’s your life, your family, your home, and he’s hurting too.

“I should have told you that I wasn’t well.” He speaks in a whisper, the room already so quiet, it’s easy to hear him. “You had already done so much for me—I wasn’t having nightmares anymore. I was able to get through the day without a spazzing out, but I still wasn’t safe for you. I was still terrified of hurting you.”

“Why then? Why did you sleep with her?”

Bucky shuts his eyes and hangs his head, squeezing your hand tighter.

“It’s like you handpicked her to check all of the boxes for everything that I’m insecure about. I know that I’m not athletic. I can’t fight someone off. I can’t lift a twenty-pound box over my head. My muscles are soft and I’m not as fierce as you wish I was.”

“You’re perfect, Y/N. Just.As.You.Are.” Bucky insists, gritting his teeth as tears fall from his eyes too. They pool at the edges then spill over, falling on your hand. “I-For a moment I did wish that you were stronger, that you were l-like one of the agents I work with if only because I can’t bear to leave you unprotected. I told you the other day that you bring an instinctive urge out in people to want to protect you and in me…the thought of anything happening to you fills me with so much dread that sometimes I can’t sleep at night.

“Every moment that I spend away from you feels like a lifetime. I am not at ease unless I know that you’re safe and that is on me. It’s not a responsibility that I should have tried to put on you. I love you, just as you are. You are all that I want. Every single moment I spent with that woman was torture. I just needed to stop thinking. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it, clinging to your hand as if his life depends on it.

For a few minutes the two of you simply cry together.

“Y/N?” Dr. Garza pulls your attention back to her. “Do you believe that Bucky loves you? Truly?”

You look back at Bucky and the blue in his eyes seems to swirl and melt, pained adoration flowing from them as he stares right back at you. You nod.

“Yes.” You weep, inhaling a shuddering breath.

“Bucky? Do you believe that Y/N loves you?”

He’s already nodding. “Yes. I do.”

You don’t know why that makes you so happy. Your chest tightens and then bursts with relief. You scoot closer, and Bucky already knows what to do. He leans in, the two of you kiss, just a quick fierce peck, before he pulls you tight against his chest.

Your weak arms, wrapped around his torso, squeeze him harder than you’ve ever squeezed before. And you know that this doesn’t fix things. You know that there is still going to be so much struggle and hard work to overcome. The thought of Bucky sitting next to a beautiful girl still fills you with terror just as another man saving you from harm must fill him with agony.

It’ll be a work in progress but for the first time since you agreed to give Bucky a chance again, to go on a date with him, you feel confident that he will choose you and not because of your baby, but for you.

The idea of going back to the apartment, of moving back into that place where your world ended, is unthinkable. You don’t go back.

At six months pregnant, you and Bucky are doing much better. You see him nearly every day. His presence at Casey’s is starting to grate on her nerves but she’s a good sport about it and tries not to glare at him too much.

Physical contact has returned too. Bucky can take your hand and you don’t pull it away. He can hug you, rest his hands on your belly over your shirt, and it’s alright.

He talks to the baby. A mystery because both you and Bucky have decided to wait until the they’re born to find out if it’s a boy or girl. It doesn’t really matter either way. You’re both just happy to have them coming.

Since that day in Dr. Garza’s office however, you and Bucky haven’t kissed again. You’re not sure who among the two of you is resisting. You don’t know if you would tell him no again, and Bucky doesn’t try.

It’s been weeks since Bucky’s gone out on mission. He’s doing it for you. You know he is. Sometimes, when he’s visiting at Casey’s, he gets a phone call and moves to your window to stare out at the front of the building.

He does it again today. He’s laughing, his lips pressed against your bump as the baby in your belly moves. “Ooh, that was a fart.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Bucky protests. Refusing to believe that his baby is farting all day in your belly.

“Yes, it was.” Another small bump pops up, right against his lips. “Eeewwwwwww! The baby just farted into your mouth!”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, his hands placed on either side of your tummy, the white t-shirt stretched taught over your swollen belly. He’s laying to your left, leaning over your thighs so that he can caress his baby comfortably.

You chuckle with him, your laugh quieter as you enjoy the vision and sound of his melodic laughter. A deep baritone, smooth and easy.

His phone rings, and your laughter dies almost instantly. Bucky’s trails off slowly as he reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone.

The shift in his eyes as he reads the name on the screen would be imperceptible to anyone but you. A hardness ices his blues. He kisses your belly one more time then scoots to the edge of the bed as he swipes his fingers across the heated glass.

He’s on his feet, moving towards your window as you push yourself to sit up straight against the headboard of your bed. Your hands move along your tummy, smoothing the wrinkles of your shirt.

“Hello?” Bucky looks at you and smiles as the other person on the phone talks quickly.

You return his smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

He mouths, Sorry.

You shake your head.

“No.” Bucky says sternly, turning his back on you to look out the window. “I said no, Steve. I’m not going.”

You can see the tension roll down along Bucky’s wide shoulders. He holds the phone with his metal hand, his right held up against the windowsill as he squeezes the wood. Steve must be trying to convince him to go on whatever mission they’re about to run.

“Bucky-?” You probe, intent on telling him to go. He’s been by your side long enough. He has to do his job. He might not like it all the time, but it’s in his blood. And you’ve learned more about Elias and this fight is personal for Bucky.

Bucky had confessed not long after that breakthrough session with Dr. Garza that Elias was Swiss. He’d been found by an unknown party in the back room of the same Siberian Hydra facility where Zemo had lured him, Steve, and Tony to.

He’d killed all the other Winter Soldiers before they’d even arrived, save for one, hidden in a back room behind a secret door; Elias. Fucking Hydra and their secret doors.

The difference between Bucky and Elias is that Bucky at his core is inherently good. He wants to help, save, build, and love. Elias had been plucked from some criminal group, already an elite trained assassin, and made more deadly with Super Soldier Serum.

The Avengers have been chasing him across Europe for the better part of a year. Now, with your one-year wedding anniversary weeks away, Elias had snuck into the States and after you and Bucky reconciled, have been pursing without Bucky’s help.

“I’ll come look at the tapes, Steve, but I’m not going. I’m right where I should be.” He says, almost angry. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and you sit up straighter, resting only your right hand on your stomach as Bucky turns back towards you.

“You have to go?” You know he does.

“Yeah. It’s getting late anyway.” Bucky sighs, clearly hesitant to leave your side. “But I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Bucky,” You reach out for his hand and he takes it. As you sit up, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed to sit, he sits beside you. Right beside you, and your heart flutters. He intertwines his fingers with yours and you love it so much you sit and enjoy it for a few silent seconds.

“I don’t wanna go.” He assures you.

“I know that.” You sigh lightly and pull your eyes away from his hand tangled with yours. His own eyes are searching, his rose-pink lips slightly parted. “But you should go with them.”

“What?” He’s surprised. Why? You know why.

“You should go with them. You’ve spent the past two months with me. You haven’t gone on any missions-”

“Because I want to fix this. I want to show you that you’re all I want.”

“And you have, babe. But I don’t want to feel like I’m taking you away from your own life. You had one before you met me, and I never wanted you to feel like I was trying to make you give that up. I just wanted to be included.”

He looks down at the floor by your feet, a pained frown overtaking his features. You let his hand go and reach up to wrap it around the back of his head, gentle fingers trailing into the short soft tufty hairs at the nape of his neck. He shuts his eyes, his face relaxed of all stress with your touch.

“And you have included me. I know why you tried to keep me at a distance now. We can work through that. It won’t be easy but I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Of course, I wanna try.” Bucky sighs. “But what if I come back and I’m…that night we fought, when I yelled at you-what if that happens again?”

“It might. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

He meets your eyes, blue fire boring into your soul. He scans your face, memorizing the shape of your brow, the plump of your lip, the curve of your nose. You do the same. He’s so damn beautiful. Even in his pain and uncertainty, he’s not perfect. And you love him for it.

“Next time.” You sigh, giving up. As his left hand finds your belly, and his right arm wraps around your back, he nods. “I’ll go to the next one. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Bucky’s been gone for a hot minute. The night is late, and you can hear the emptiness of the rooms around you. Casey always stays with Sam the night before a mission, not that you blame her, but you also hate the solitude of the empty house.

You move back down the hallway, headed back to your room after having to pee for what feels like the tenth time tonight. You caress your tummy but yawn and speak. “Move off my bladder, ducky, mommy wants to sleep.”

With half-lidded eyes, you meander back into your room, sit on the bed, and yawn once more. You reach over to shut off your lamp when a shift in the dark corner by the very same window that Bucky had stood by earlier today catches your eye.

“Bucky?” You ask hopefully, stupidly, because if Bucky were here, he would have come found you in the bathroom or he’d be waiting on the bed. Why would he be hiding in the corner?

Your heart stops and restarts at supersonic speeds as a large looming man steps forward wearing tattered brown rags that might have been a uniform of some sort at some point, a ripped vest with the distinct marks of previous bullets hitting the armor, and no shoes. His skin is dirty, covered in patches of black tar? Dirt, dried blood, and his blonde hair stands at hard odd angles, crusted with grime.

Your eyes quickly find his bright green eyes, piercing, the color of lethal toxin set ablaze. You get no comfort in his green like you do in Casey’s. You can feel the hate radiating off of him, the ill-intent, the violence to come.

Your left hand flies to pull open the drawer of your nightstand, Barnes sitting just inside.

As your right hand flies for the gun, a disgusting dirty one grabs your wrist, squeezing so tight you cry out. You let your instinct drive you and pull your left leg up hard and fast, driving it between the man’s legs.

He groans and drops your hand. You grab the gun, but you don’t get to lift it as the full force of his back-hand swing throws you clear over the bed. You don’t think. You just curl. You wrap yourself around your stomach as your body falls hard against the wall then onto the floor. Something is broken. You can feel it. A finger? Your whole arm? You’re a body of bruises already from one single stupid hit.

Gasping you pull yourself up weakly, Barnes still clutched in your left hand. It takes all the strength in your body to pull yourself up to sit, to lean your arms on the bed and aim. You pull the trigger and it echoes around you filling the air with the acrid burn of gunpowder and the rust of blood.

The man cries out as he reaches up to grab his shoulder. After a long glare at you, his green eyes full of enmity, he disappears through your bedroom doorway. You don’t hear his exit, but you hear the front door burst open.

How long you stay like that you don’t know. You’re shaking, terrified, crying, hurting, and frozen. It feels like hours before you’re finally able to move.

You cry out as you straighten up and then curl in on yourself as you move around the bed, limping because you’d hit your right foot hard against the wall. You’re still sobbing as you find your phone, your hand still a vice around Barnes.

With your phone held tight in your right hand, and the shaking index finger of your left hand, you scroll through the names on your phone and look for The Perv. Barnes’s metal hits the edge of your phone because there is no way that you are letting it go.

He picks up after one ring.

“Hold on, Steve. Y/N? What’s the matter, baby? Can’t sleep?” You’re not unaware of how relaxed and happy he sounds, finally around his friends after devoting himself to you so wholly these past two months. However, you can’t help the wracking sobs that tear through your lump ridden throat at the sound of his voice.

“Y/N?!” He yells, the worry making his voice rise.

“What is it?” Sam asks.

“Bucky?” Nat.

You’re finally able to find your voice after a few unending seconds of loud, harsh sobbing that tears at your throat. “Bucky!”

It’s like his life is over. The sounds you’re making fill him with a fear that he’d never known he could feel.

Compared to the fear of you leaving him, this is worse. The terror in your cries turns his heart to lead and it falls into the pit of his stomach.

He’s running before he even knows where he’s going but there’s only one place you can be. What if you were kidnapped? What if you’d been taken away from him by force?

The nearest exit is the glass doors to the balcony by the living room. He throws them open and leaps, falling three stories without fear. He tucks himself in as the ground rushes up to meet him and he rolls then springs back up onto his feet.

Bucky’s legs have never moved so fast. He’s struggling to breathe when he reaches town. Three a.m. means the streets are deserted, only a car passes him as he flies along the pavement. Your front door sits wide open, several people are standing in your walkway, others are standing on their stoops, glancing towards your and Casey’s house with looks of shock and concern. Bucky doesn’t stop.

He shoves people aside; something must have drawn them out of their homes. What?

The sounds of sirens begin to fill the air as Bucky takes the stairs four at a time. He slides on the top floor landing but turns into your room and nearly falls to his knees at the sight of you howling with tears, kneeling, your bare right foot bright red, turning purple. Your left hand, the heel of your palm pressed against your forehead, is curled around Barnes your pinky twisted into a painful position. It’s broken.

Your entire body is curled protectively around your stomach and as Bucky heaves and struggles to breathe, his shoulders rising and falling violently as he moves towards you, you turn to him and open your arms like a terrified toddler.

Bucky drops to his knees, and pulls you close, holding you tight as you wrap your arms around his neck, almost choking him in your desperation, and bury your face against his thudding pulse as you continue to cry.

He tries to speak but his voice seems to have left him. Instead he breathes out a ragged croak. He shuts his eyes and wills his heart to stop pounding so hard. He inhales deeply through his nose, the gunpowder from the gun sharp and stinging, he can also smell a hint of blood in the air.

He runs his hand along your body, searching, but the faintness of the smell already tell him that the wounded is long gone.

“I’ve got you, kitten.” His voice is still strangled, struggling to come out louder than a whisper. It doesn’t matter however; the timber of his voice seems to relax you. You keep your arms wrapped around him tightly, but he can feel you melt against him.

Running feet pound up behind him but Bucky is so familiar with the gaits that he doesn’t turn. He does however scoot his metal arm underneath your knees and with ease he lifts you up. He turns with you in his arms as Nat, Sam, and Steve stumble to a stop by the doorway.

Steve moves inside, Sam following as Nat holds back, disappearing into the darkness of the house to check the rest of the rooms probably.

“Is she-?” Steve begins.

“She’s okay.” Bucky assures him. “She needs Cho.”

Sam is out the door, his hand on his ear. “Get the jet. Call Helen, tell her we need her in the med bay A-Sap.”

Bucky could have carried you to the compound, but he would prefer the safety of the jet too. He’s silent the entire ride back, his arms holding you carefully, and with you in his lap he’s able to place his hand on your tummy. He rubs it gently, grateful that you’re in one piece if only slightly broken.

Your racking sobs have turned into quiet sniffles and Bucky’s heart aches but also soars at the way you cling to him for comfort. He leans in and kisses your head, offering as much as he can.

As the jet lands, Sam moves towards him but reaches for your left hand to relieve you of your gun.

“Don’t.” Bucky warns him, but Sam tries anyway.

Bucky can feel you tense up and feels your hand wrap around the gun harder. You try to move your pinky and it makes you whimper. With a hiss Bucky gets to his feet and walks towards Sam, a threat in his eyes.

Sam backs up a step holding up his arms to show Bucky he means no harm. “Sorry, Y/N. Sorry.”

Bucky sidesteps him and moves off the jet, into the elevator, and all the way down to the med bay.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Come on, baby, open your eyes.” His voice is so tempting and warm, you reach for him.

Something isn’t right. Your pinky won’t bend. You groan, your right foot also hurts and feels too tight.

“Bucky?” You whisper, your voice hoarse. Why is it-? “Bucky!”

You shout, sitting up so quickly your back cracks and protests against the sudden movement. Your mind floods with the scramble for your gun, the sharp pain of a harsh hit, the crumble of your fall, and then the panic as you called Bucky and all you could do is scream for him.

“I’ve got you, kitten. I’ve got you.” Bucky's arms are around you, and you quickly wrap yours around him again. He repeats those words, over and over, rubbing your back over the soft, over sized pink cotton shirt you wear to bed. “I’ve got you, kitten. I’ve got you.”

You stay there, in his arms, unwilling to let go because the fear coursing through your body is paralyzing.

When Bucky speaks again, his voice is proud, he squeezes you once and then resumes rubbing your back. “You shot him.”

He already knows who it is that attacked you? “Who?”

“Elias.” Bucky sighs, his voice tells you that crinkle between his eyes is prominent. “We think he noticed my absence. He and I have more in common than I’d like to admit. Maybe not fundamentally but he was made like me. Only difference is he enjoyed it.”

“The other Winter Soldier?” You whisper, realization hitting you smack in the face—no, that was Elias’s hand. You must look like a walking bruise.

“So, he came after me?” Your fearful hitch makes Bucky push you back a little if only so that he can stare into your eyes with anxious blue steel.

“No. I think he was looking for me. He followed me there and was probably curious. When he saw you-”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Did you reach for your gun first, or did he hit you first?”

“I reached for the gun. He stopped me, hurt my wrist.” You pull your arm up and look at the skin, bruised, swollen slightly too. “I was worried…about our ducky and I just reacted. I didn’t think. I kicked him and then I grabbed the gun but then he hit me, and I remember hitting something hard,”

“The wall.” Bucky says.

“-and got up and shot him. I couldn’t even hold up the gun, Bucky I’m such shit to protect our baby. I had to rest my arms on the bed to keep them steady. What if he’d hurt our ducky?”

“You did amazing, Y/N. You fought him off. And the baby is perfect. Helen says that she’s never seen a baby so healthy and perfect, but she called Dr. Carroll for you and she checked you over too.”

“Dr. Carroll was here?” Shock widening your eyes.

“She was.” Bucky smiles, reaching up to tuck your hair back, caressing what feels like a massive bump that stretches along the entirety of the right side of your face. “She said she understands now why the baby always seemed to have a heartrate much faster than normal. She seemed kind of impressed when I told her I was your husband.”

You watch as Bucky’s eyes grow distant for a moment. It’s scary, that wall he hides behind. You haven’t seen it in two months and there it is.

“What, Bucky? Did she say something?”

“No, I just…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little surprised.” Dr. Carroll reaches down to press the small wand of the much more competent ultrasound machine to your exposed tummy.

“Why?” Bucky asks, his eyes peaked with interest as he watches the screen for his baby. He can already hear that quick thrumming. His little one’s heart! He could kiss the stupid screen for giving him this moment.

His elation is quickly followed by sorrow. He’s missed so much already.

“Ooh, there!” Dr. Carroll sounds a little too excited to see the baby. The image is stunning, 3D, and Bucky can already see that the baby has your nose. The rest of him or her, looks a little like it’s still forming. He can see eyebrows, patchy, like they’re still filling in, shut eyes, big ones. The chin is too small still and the cheeks still not puffed like he’s seen some babies get.

“Is that our baby?!” He asks excitedly, forgetting his sorrow.

The baby suddenly twitches and Dr. Carroll smiles then chuckles. “They like your voice.” She says, explaining the sudden movement.

“My voice?” Bucky doesn’t understand why, or how the baby would even know to distinguish his voice as something to like. He’d missed out on the baby’s first four and a half months. At six months, with only a collective two and a half months of hearing him and the first month of that sparingly because he was always away on mission, he finds it hard to believe that the baby knows to like him.

“Yeah. See.” Dr. Carroll adjusts the wand so that the baby is on display on its side, profile clear and that is definitely your nose! “Try and say something.”

“Uh, hey little one. I’m er…I’m your daddy.” Bucky says nervously.

The baby twitches again, kicking their little legs and at the same time, Bucky can see the kick on your stomach. Bucky’s eyes water. How is it possible that the little one knows it’s him? He looks at you and leans his forehead against your temple. Your face, swollen, beaten, and asleep looks peaceful, despite the purple and red-blue marks on your right side.

“I told you our ducky wasn’t farting.”

Dr. Carroll is silent as the thrumming continues to fill the room. When Bucky finds it weird that she still hasn’t said anything, he looks up at her, sitting up straight again. She’s staring at him and you, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“How long have you two been married?” She wonders.

“Almost a year.” Bucky tells her. “Just under two months left.”

“I didn’t think she had a husband. She never mentioned one when she first came to the office. I felt so bad for her, nervous thing that she was, I figured it was a one night stand or—something worse with how terrified she was? I tried not to ask. But she took two pictures.”

Bucky nods. “She gave it to me a few weeks ago.”

Then because curiosity overwhelms him, he asks, “Why didn’t you think she was married? Why did you jump to the conclusion that she must have gotten pregnant under different circumstances?”

“Well,” Dr. Carroll removes the wand and Bucky is almost heartbroken to have the thrumming stop. However, if he strains his ears hard enough, he can hear its little murmur. “She just seems so-”

“Helpless?” Bucky offers. Dr. Carroll laughs, just a huff, as she nods.

“Yes. Plus, no ring.”

“Huh?” Bucky asks, confused now. And then it dawns on him what she must be talking about and even though he makes the connection she explains anyway.

“No wedding ring. She wrote ‘Mrs. Y/N Barnes’ on the paperwork for the office but lots of unwed mothers do that, just in case they may be judged.”

Bucky feels like an utter ass for realizing, just a little under two months before your one year wedding anniversary, that he has yet to get you some FUCKING wedding rings. He sinks into his seat as Dr. Carroll cleans up and Bucky’s still staring at your wounded face when she pats his shoulder.

“Congratulations, papa. You’ve got a strong, healthy bun in the oven, and a momma who can kick ass to defend her baby.”

Bucky gives her a tight smile because she’s right. You might be passed out right now, the shock probably pushing you into unconsciousness, and you may be timid sometimes and unathletic and an adorable bookworm, but you are strong. You’re so smart and a survivor. And you’re perfect, just as you are.

~~~~~~~~~~

He runs his thumb over the ring finger of your left hand, but you don’t notice the movement. You can only stare at his nervous expression.

“I never got you wedding rings.” He explains, blinking slow before meeting your eyes in fear of upsetting you. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Bucky…” You smile, ignoring the way it makes your face sting. “I don’t need rings. I know you love me. And I love you, so much.”

You see a set of defiance in his expression. He disagrees about the rings and you’re not sure if it’s because a wedding ring on your finger might somehow deter big men trying to help you? Or maybe he wants to make sure that you know that he isn’t ashamed to broadcast that he’s married? Or perhaps it’s his old fashioned notions which he tries hard to hide, that are telling him that if he wants to make it really official, he better get you a damn ring.

Sometime during the day Bucky winds up beside you, laying with you, arms wrapped around you with your head pillowed on his strong fleshy bicep. A knock on the door pulls the two of you awake and as it opens Bucky looks towards it as he tightens his hold on you and you bury your face into his chest because the light that streams in from the bright hallway shines bright in the dark recess of your recovery room.

“What?” He asks, somewhat rough with his tone, his voice muffled and making his chest vibrate as he speaks.

“We caught him on camera, fleeing towards the Canadian border. It’s time to go.”

You don’t like the sound of that one bit. You don’t like the way he’s talking to his friends either. Something’s not exactly right with Bucky still. However, you have no time to delve into that because Bucky sighs and carefully gets up.

“Y/N, I gotta go.”

You want to hold him close, keep him here in your arms. But you can’t. So, you sit up as he sits and pulls his shoes back on.

“Please tell me you’ll be safe, and you won’t try to do anything stupid like retaliate for last night?”

“I can’t make any promises, kitten. The goal is to get him in alive but after last night-”

“Bucky,” You say, chastising him and wishing more than anything that you could tie him down and keep him here. “We’re here, waiting for you. You can’t do anything stupid because I can’t raise this baby on my own, you got that?”

Bucky looks at your tummy and hurries back onto his feet. He takes hold of its sides and presses kiss after kiss against the swollen tummy. “I’ll be back, ducky, I promise.”

He looks up at you and for a moment you forget the upset. You forget that Bucky cheated on you and he forgets that you did too. You forget the ignoring and the shutting out all for just a few perfect moments of staring into Bucky’s eyes before he runs out and puts his life on the line again.

The danger you felt last night, the trauma you’re sitting with here now, it’s all part of his chosen experience but also forced on him too.

“I promise.” He whispers and as much as the moment wipes his and your debts clean, it doesn’t last. He leans in to kiss your forehead, the awkwardness keeping him from really kissing you goodbye.

Bucky feels like a failure. He feels inadequate. He feels like he let you down. His disappointment is a black hole, consuming any and all positivity from your recent reconciliation.

He has you in his life. Maybe not how he wishes you were, but you hadn't asked him for a divorce which had been his worst nightmare. Losing you and his baby and you also shunning him and refusing to let him see his ducky is his idea of hell.

Yet, despite the pit of despair he's fallen in from having failed to catch Elias, he smiles. Sitting with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward with his hair a greasy curtain from not showering for several days and his skin coated with the filth of the mission, he looks across the jet, at empty seats. Sam and Steve at the front letting Bucky have his space so that he can decompress.

The smile is small due to the memory of the first time you used the term ducky to refer to the baby growing inside you. His baby. His perfect little angel. Like you.

It's been almost two weeks since he left you to chase Elias with Steve and Sam. The bastard had led them on a winding chase, jumping back and forth over the Canadian border.

Your pinky will still need lots of time to heal and your ankle had only been sprained. You should be up and walking around without the need for crutches. Your bruises will probably be almost completely faded. He sighs, a heavy worried breath as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

He looks for your name, scrolling slowly with his flesh thumb. He stops at My Kitten and swipes his finger across the name. When he presses it to his ear, it's already ringing. You answer after two rings.

“Bucky?!” Your voice is like a salve on his fretting heart. He shuts his eyes, the sound of you beautiful even with the worry thick and heavy, and enjoys the moment, knowing that even though you've moved out, you still love him.

“Hey.” He whispers, his voice weak and exhausted. He can’t even remember the last time he slept. “God, Y/N. It's so good to hear your voice.”

There’s silence on your side and Bucky reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Baby?” Bucky probes.

“Where are you?” Your voice cracks and Bucky knows you’re crying. He hates the thought of you with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What's the matter?” Bucky demands, sitting up straighter, more alert. Sam turn to look at him and Steve steals a glance.

“Ugh, nothing! I’ve been crying over everything lately. This baby is kicking my hormonal ass.”

Bucky's heart leaps, his eyes relax, and he slouches against the synthetic leather seat. With a wide smile he presses the phone closer to his ear, wishing he could hug you tight and kiss your tears away.

“Oh. I’m sorry, kitten.”

“You should be! This is all your fault.” You’re not crying anymore and for once this is something Bucky is definitely happy to take the blame for.

“Bucky where-?” As your voice cuts out, he pulls the phone away from his ear. Lost signal.

“Damn.” He grumbles quietly.

“Lost signal again?” Sam asks, amusement in his voice.

Bucky glances up at him and then looks back at his phone as he opens up his messaging app. “Yeah. I’ll just text her.”

Sam shakes his head. “I told you to just ask Tony for one of his new phones. We get signal everywhere.”

Bucky frowns as he types a quick message telling you he's on his way and should be home in an hour.

“Mmmm.” He acknowledges Sam's suggestion but otherwise ignores his advice. He doesn’t like asking Tony for things.

“Was Y/N okay?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed with worry.

Bucky looks at his reflection in the glass and nods. It still throws him for a loop at how protective the team is over you. After the break in at Casey's, even Tony was frantic to get the townhouse upgraded with top if the line security.

Sam was ecstatic.

“Yeah. Yeah, she's just…the baby's making her hormones go a little bonkers. She was crying so, I got worried.” Bucky flips the phone a few times leaning forward once more to place his elbows on his knees again.

“You guys still doing okay?” Steve probes carefully. He's surprised Bucky is so calm, and Bucky can see the caution in Steve's storm blue eyes.

After what happened at Casey's, after feeling the beastly fear of losing you—to Elias, not the cheating—somehow, he can hold onto that and it manages to outweigh the buzzing in his brain.

“Yeah. We’re good. I just-” He blinks slowly then looks at his phone as it buzzes.

My Kitten: I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you. And the baby won’t stop kicking! My heart is pounding and our ducky is flipping out. LOL!

Bucky smiles again, running his fingers over the text. “-I can’t wait for her to come home.”

When the jet finally lands, Bucky knows that it isn’t likely, but he goes to his room. He’d been unable to contact you until today, but he’d hoped that you had chosen to stay on the compound.

The room, as he had expected it to be, is empty. No one has been in here since the last time he’d slept here which had been before he’d nearly fucked everything up by sleeping with Penny.

He wants to see you and he wants to see his ducky, but a shower might be better first. He’s disgusting.

He’s slow as he walks to his apartment door, reminding himself the whole way that he cannot fall asleep. He can’t let himself give in to his exhaustion. No matter how many days he’s gone without sleeping, he needs to see you first.

Falling against the door, his forehead pressed against the cool and carefully painted metal, he shuts his eyes and clumsily presses his right hand’s thumb to the teal green panel. It beeps and the door clicks. With a groan he pulls it open and stumbles inside.

He only makes it three steps when he realizes that something isn’t right.

The large shared living and dining room light is on. Although the entryway is dark, there’s light spilling out of the kitchen too.

There’s a sudden shattering of glass and a gasp. Bucky races towards the kitchen, dropping his bag by the door.

His heart nearly stops then begins to pound as his eyes take in the most magnificently gorgeous sight he’s ever seen.

“You’re home!” You gush and Bucky can almost count the sparkles in your eyes. You’ve never looked so happy to see him and it feels like finally the world has been put right. “I’m-I was making some spaghetti. I…dropped the sauce. Serves me right for not making it from scratch, right? And…now we’re out of sauce. But I can run to the store! I’ll get some more, and we can have spaghetti and meatballs. I took the recipe out of that little book you keep in the drawer by the sink.”

His mom’s recipe!

“Shoot, I should clean this first.” Bucky scrambles forward, throwing his flesh arm out towards you in a stupidly dramatic ‘stop’ motion.

“No, wait. I’ll do that.” He flips his hand over and instead motions for you to move towards him with two flicks of his fingers. “Come here. Be careful. Don’t step on the glass.”

He looks at your feet, you’re barefoot and beautiful. Is it possible to fall in love with you further?

You take a gingerly step towards him, but Bucky moves towards you, stepping on the smooth black granite flooring where there is no sauce, and as soon as you’re within reach he wraps his arms around your waist. He takes care to support your belly and lifts with ease, twisting you back around towards him and the entrance to the kitchen.

He can smell the pan overheating. If he doesn’t turn off the stove there’ll be a fire, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the fact that you’re here, in the apartment. Finally, home.

“Let me look at you.” He sighs, and you smell so damn good, like fresh Freesia and clean linen. It’s like your dress was infused with the scent because you’re wearing a sleeveless dress, blue skirt with a white and pink floral pattern, the top—just above the curve of your pregnant belly—a sharp block waistline separates the white top.

Bucky can see that the bruises on your face are almost fully faded. Your pinky is still in its tiny splint. Your ankle still wrapped but looking much less swollen, and there are minuscule red spatters of the sauce on the white but you’re perfect and you’re beautiful and he really wants to kiss you but you’ve got that nervous look in your eyes so he can’t so instead he pushes your hair back and pulls you into his chest.

You wrap your arms around him and it’s like he’s flying. “Does this mean you’re coming home?”

The silence that follows this hopeful question worries him but then you’re sniffling, and he chuckles, pulling back to look at your sobbing face.

“Ugh!” You actually stomp your foot and Bucky really wants to fucking kiss you! “Stupid hormones. Yes! I’m home. I’m home.”

When you wrap your arms around him, he pulls you close once more while waves of heat waft towards him as the pan you’d been cooking with bursts into flames.

Bucky’s trying to coax you into the bedroom, but you don’t make it any further than the entrance of the hallway. He’d already showered and you’d already washed the dishes even though Bucky had told you that you didn’t have to do them, but with all the joy of finally coming home, you can’t make yourself move towards that stupid room where your life was torn apart for a little while.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, adjusting his metal hand so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours instead of letting you pull your hand out of his like you’re trying to do.

“I don’t think I can go back in there, Bucky.”

“What?”

You can see the disappointment on his face. He has to understand though, you can’t make yourself go back in there when what you saw ruined you forever for the beautiful bedroom you’d had before. You’ll sleep on the couch before you sleep on that horrible bed.

“I-I just can’t.”

“Y/N,” Bucky begins, moving closer, pulling your hand up to hold against his chest. “Do you trust me?”

With my life? Yes. With other women?

“Don’t answer that.” Bucky shuts his eyes tight and laughs without humor at the stupidity of his question. “Will you please, trust me? With this?”

You consider his expression, the gentle pleading, the worry, the blue of his eyes and his freshly washed hair. God, he smells like a rainforest waterfall with the slightest hint of cucumber.

“Okay.” You give in, unable to help it. His dark grey t-shirt, the black sleep pants, the damp tendrils of hair sticking to the sides of his face, it all mixes into an irresistible cocktail of manly perfection.

His face blooms with ecstatic happiness and he pulls you towards the bedroom, your bedroom, adjusting his strength when your feet start to resist.

“I was hoping you’d come home some day and when you did, I wanted you to be comfortable and…I made a stupid mistake, Y/N. An unforgivable one and somehow you forgave me.”

“Bucky…I made that same mistake-”

Bucky shakes his head. “But if I hadn’t pushed you away so hard you would have never been driven towards him. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you forgiving me was not a mistake and hopefully this can begin to make amends.”

He pushes the bedroom door open and you’re immediately assaulted by the lighter palate. The room is dimly lit, silver lamps with black sconces on burnt chestnut-brown beside tables cast diffuse yellow light on the golden taupe wallpaper. The pictures of you and Bucky rest around the lamps and on new dressers one to the left of the bed and one to the right in the same burn chestnut-brown as the bedside tables.

The bed itself, rather than pushed up against the wall to the right of the room lays straight ahead, with the large windows on either side, currently covered with shiny black thermal curtains. It’s just as big as before, king size, with a white patterned upholstered platform bed frame. The sheets are soft gray with new plush pillows in black cases to match the black high thread count comforter. At the end of the bed is an elegant art deco bench also in white and black.

Immediately to your right however is the pink chair that Bucky had bought for you, on it a small stack of clothes that you’d left there months ago. And to the left the full length black mirror you’d examined your bruises in once upon a time when Bucky had rushed to kiss them to apologize for putting them there in the heat of passion.

Your eyes are streaming with tears again, obviously, because the baby seems fit to make it so that you cry at the drop of a hat and Bucky completely redid your bedroom. He replaced the darkness of your room and made it bright.

Bucky assess the look of surprise and happiness on your face then smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Welcome home, baby.”

You’re propped up on your new bed, chuckling as Bucky recounts the moment that Sam realized he’d forgotten to open his wings after a particularly high jump. It actually sounds really freaking dangerous, but the way Bucky tells it, you know that nothing happened.

“Anyway, that was probably the only good part about the mission.”

“No Elias?” You ask, fretfully rubbing your tummy over you’re the soft white spaghetti strap top of your pajama set.

Wanda had given them to you just after your discharge from the med bay and you’d saved them for this very moment. For when you and Bucky could be together again.

“We saw him, almost caught him a couple times but he keeps slipping us. I’m not sure what to do anymore. How to catch him? I’m so tired of chasing after him.” Bucky admits, focusing on your tummy as his own hand bumps into yours and he quickly catches your hand, brings it to the base of your stomach, and holds both you and your ducky there.

“So, then stop?” You hate how tired he looks. You hate that the circles under his eyes are so dark. You reach up and stroke them then slip your hand into his hair to push it back away from his face.

“I can’t. We can’t. He’s too dangerous. And after what he did to you, I need to get him off the streets, Y/N. I won’t relax until he’s locked up where he can’t get to you again.” Your heart flutters with the intensity of Bucky’s determination.

In response, your ducky kicks and the shirt over your tummy moves. You chuckle, forgetting all your worries with the baby’s kick.

“Is our ducky excited?” Bucky wonders.

“No. Not really. Just…you-” You stop, biting your lower lip because you don’t know if you want to admit how much he still makes you nervous.

“Me?” Bucky asks, wondering, also nervous.

“You make my heart flutter sometimes.” You admit in a rush. “The baby responds to that feeling in my stomach, you know? Those tumbles?”

Bucky grins. “Oh, I know those tumbles.”

Your face must look worried or confused—because you are. Is he thinking about you when he talks about tumbles in his stomach or someone else?—because Bucky is quick to push himself up a bit higher, closer to you. He sighs wafting tart mint against your slightly open lips.

“Hey…” You can see the anger within his eyes. Anger directed at himself. You know it because you feel it whenever you think about what you did with Henry.

Suddenly he’s scrambling off of the bed. “Bucky?”

“Hold on, baby. I’ll be right back.” He rushes out into the hallway and you can hear him thumping around the living room and then two minutes later he’s hurrying back towards you.

He steps up onto the bench at the end of your bed then falls to his knees and crawls across the mattress towards you. He drops back down onto your right side, resting on his metal elbow as he opens his flesh hand. Inside rests a small shiny black box with a velvet covered pearl on top. There’s a small seam straight through the middle that tells you it opens to the sides.

Your breath catches because you know what’s in the box without needing to open it.

“Bucky…I told you I don’t need rings. I know how you feel, and I-I hope you know how I feel?”

“I do.” Bucky assures you. “I know. But I could never forgive myself if I didn’t do this for you because our marriage is just as valid as everyone else’s. The people who date for six years before they tie the knot and us, for two weeks? We deserve to celebrate the way everyone else does. I never want you to doubt how much I love you and this is just that, a reminder. I will never hurt you like I did again, Y/N. You are my love and my life and my only salvation in this long-ass life that I’ve lived. Plus, I’m kinda hoping the ring will help other women to see that I’m taken.”

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about that yourself but it’s so silly. “That doesn’t stop all of them, Bucky.”

He knows you’re right. He doubts whether anything could have stopped Penny, but it gives him some comfort. It helps him remember too that somewhere in the world there’s someone waiting for him, someone who needs him. There’s someone who wants to see him and spend time with him and love him.

“Open it.”

You do. Inside of the pretty box rest two rings, both platinum, but one large with sleek brushed metal at the center and shining silver on the edges; Bucky’s ring. The second is much smaller, feminine in its beautiful vine and floral design and within every leaf and every flower petal is a single diamond. Tiny but altogether, they shine brilliantly in the soft glow of the room.

Bucky takes his and slips it onto his right ring finger, then he takes yours and waits for you to press your left hand on his.

You bite your lip as you watch him slip it onto your finger. Then he sighs. Content.

“It’s beautiful, babe.”

The baby kicks again and Bucky smiles wide while you chuckle. He reaches down to the base of stomach and takes hold of the hem of your shirt. “Can I?”

You nod. Carefully he lifts the shirt and with a bit of self-consciousness, you try to hide the stretched skin marks that litter the base of your belly.

“Our d-ducky grew kinda quickly. And I haven’t been as vigilant as I should be with the cream.” Not that it always helped. But Bucky doesn’t seem to notice your stretch marks. He’s too busy watching your baby kick over and over as your heart flutters the longer Bucky stares.

He leans in and kisses your tummy, skin to skin, searing hot kisses as the baby goes wild.

He looks up to meet your eyes and if you’re honest, until this moment, things hadn’t felt right. They’d been on their way and the two of you had been trying but it’s not until right now, when Bucky’s steel blue eyes darken to silver as he holds your gaze, that things feel good. Finally, things are right.

Unwilling to lose the moment, Bucky leans up to press his lips softly against your own. You whimper, having missed his kiss so desperately. His hand slides from the top of your exposed stomach to your side then up, up, up, until he’s wrapping rough calloused hands around your soft bare back to lay you down carefully as he strips you and then himself to express his serenity at finally having you home.

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xxjayjabbersxx · 5 years

Text

Baking Disasters

Fandom: The Arcana Ships: Julian Devorak x Self Insert (Jay), Count Lucio x Self Insert (Keri aka @frecklydork ) Rating: Teen

This is Chapter One ONLY To read all 5 chapter please go to my Ao3 (TheJayAgenda) to read. I will be reblogging this post with a link since tumblr hates links in original posts.

“It was nice of Nadia to let us use the Palace kitchen.” There’s a smile on Jay’s lips. A small huff can be heard from behind them.

“It’s my kitchen too....” A golden arm is folded over another as Lucio pouts, sitting on a stool looking like a child.

“No, it’s not.” The smile never leaves Jay’s lips as they speak. “Death has a funny way of annulling not only marriages, but royalty status, resulting in loss of property ownership.” There’s a nudge to their side and Jay looks down at Keri, who has her cheeks puffed out gently. “Be nice!” She scolds. Jay chuckles softly.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll play nice”

“You know,” A new voice chimes in from the doorway, “You’re lucky she lets you inside the palace at all.” Julian emerges into the kitchen with a couple of bags from the market. He strolls over and puts the bags on the counter, leaning down to place a kiss on Jay’s temple. They lean gently into it, smiling wider. “The only reason she sort of trusts you,” he says now unpacking the bags, “Is because Keri trusts you-”

“For some reason,” Jay cuts in, looking over the decorations and cookie cutters Julian picked. They hold one up with a quirked eyebrow and a grin “A raven?” Julian swipes it from their hand as they chuckle.

“Yeah and?” He says clutching it to his chest.

“Nothing, nothing.” They continue to look over the others. “Oh, a star! And a heart!? Oh and this ones-” they keep looking over the cutters with Julian in gleeful fascination as Keri makes her way over to the pouting count. With a gentle, hmph, she hoists herself onto the adjacent stool.

Lucio looked over at Keri as she hopped up. He kept his pose for a moment, but as those warm brown eyes gave him a once over, he relaxed a bit, uncrossing his arms. “Can I help you, darling~” He said, almost as a purr. Keri quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips.

“And here I thought I was coming over to help you~” she reached forward to place a hand on his, and he would deny to anyone that a heat came over his cheeks as she did so.

“What could I possibly need help with my dear, I’m perfect!” He puffed out his chest to emphasize the point. From the other stool there was a giggle.

“I know you are~” She smiled. Silence settled between them, but just having her by his side was comfort enough to make him feel better (not that he was feeling down by what the other two said, no that's silly, why would you say that, ridiculous, preposterous!). Lucio’s golden arm reached forward to gently caress a loose strand of brunette hair, running his fingers through it with gentle reverence. What beautiful and soft hair she had….

“Hey-” a voice cut through their peaceful silence, and Lucio’s head whipped towards the noise with a small snarl “-Keri, darling, do you wanna handle the sugarcookies or the cupcakes?” Jay paid the count no mind, and behind them Julian was getting the stations ready.

“Oh, uh,” Keri grabbed her now free hair in her own hand and played with it a bit, “I’ll do the cookies!” She hops down from the stool and take a few steps, but when she doesn’t hear footsteps trailing behind her she stop. Twisting her body she looks back to the count. “Well come on!” She smiles invitingly.

“Wha-“ Lucio crosses his arms once more. “Baking is no task for a count!” He turns his face away. “I am merely here to enjoy the spoils of your efforts once everything is done.” His eyes look back at Keri, who merely sighs and smiles.

“Alright then.” She wasn’t about to fight him on it. And besides, it’ll be nice to just spoil him with sweets she baked herself! With a bounce in her step Keri made her way over to the counter to start getting her things ready for the cookies. Lucio watched her, gaze transfixed. The way she walked, the way her hips swayed side to side, the way her hair flowed so gracefully behind her. Gentle steps, soft features, a radiant energy... He was just so enamoured by her.

The two friends now bustled around, starting to throw things together. Julian made his way out of the fray, lingering back, near, but not too close, to Lucio. He leaned against a nearby wall, looking at the two magicians work. Admiration was plastered on his face as he gazed lovingly at them.

Time passed, the room filled with jokes and laughter between the magicians, a comment here from Julian, a remark or two from Lucio. There was a brief bought of silence as they continued to work, Keri now mixing her dough together with determination. Jay leaned back slightly, speaking without actually turning their head. “Hey sunshine?”

“Yes starlight?”

“Can you grab me the flour? I need a little more.”

“For you? Of course my love~” The redhead pushed off from the wall and sauntered over to the cabinet. As he fished around for the flour, a realization seemed to dawn on Keri’s face.

“Oh,” She turned suddenly to look at Lucio, “I almost forgot to put vanilla in here! Can you grab some for me? Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes at him. Lucio sputtered slightly, face going only kind of red.

“Wha- I… that's no task for a Count!” Keri wilted with a sigh. Before she could make her own way to the cabinet, however, Julian spoke up.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it, angel, I’ll get it. Wouldn’t want our ‘precious count’ to strain himself” The sound of stool legs scraping against the floor was heard as Lucio clamors to his feet suddenly.

“No hold on I can totally do it!” He says indignantly making his way over to where Julian was. Julian already had the flour in one hand, and rolled his eyes as he watched Lucio approach.

“Really. It’s fine. You don’t have to-“ he was saying this as he reached into the cabinet for the vanilla, but his hand was quickly slapped away. “Hey!” He said as Lucio snatched up the ingredient. Julian, now irritated, snatched the vanilla back with his free hand. “Stop being a child.”

“You stop!” Lucio whines grabbing it from Julian again. Julian just glowered, going for the vanilla once more, but Lucio was ready this time. He attempted to swipe at Julian but caught the bag of flour instead, and it went everywhere.

At this point, Jay had stopped what they were doing to turn around and watch this disaster unfold. They leaned against the counter, hands braced against it. Keri was also watching, but with more concern over the bickering. The two men just stared at each other for a long time, silent. They looked like they were about to lunge at each other when Jay busted out in laughter. They held their stomach and leaned over, their laughter was obscenely loud. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and Keri found herself giggling now. They did look ridiculous.

The boys looked between the magicians and themselves, the anger easing from their face, forming into confusion, and then, amusement. Julian was the first of the two to join in on the laughter, bringing a hand up to cover his face as he leaned back, a chuckle ripping from his throat. Lucio pouted, and started to attempt brushing himself clean. He mumbled under his breath, but with another glance at Julian, and with the laughter filling the kitchen, Lucio, despite himself, started to chuckle.

“I’ll get you for this Devorak!” He said between laughs.

“Get me? I should be the one seeking revenge on you for this showering of flour.” He shook his head out in Lucio’s direction, like a dog. White powder rained down from his head, showering the blonde even more. When he saw Lucio grow irritated, it fueled him, and he reached his hands up to better shake the flour onto the blonde.

Before lucio could retaliate with anything, something went flying across the room, hitting Julian in the cheek with a thwap. All eyes turned in the direction of the projectile, to see Keri standing in a determined stance, spoon in hand. Julian reached up and whipped the offending projectile from his face, giving it a taste. “You threw cake batter at me?”

“..... yes?” She said with a questioning smile.

“Game on!” Julian now rushed towards Keri with the bag of flour. Well, what was left of it anyway. This caused the girl to shriek with laughter as she started running away, dashing across the kitchen. Jay doubled over with laughter now, watching the two run around. They were so caught up in the merriment that they didn’t notice a certain blonde approach them. By the time they saw the figure, it was too late, and an egg came crashing down on their head. Slowly, brown eyes looked up at Lucio, before Jay straightened to their normal height, mischief and revenge gleaming in their eyes.

“Oh, it’s on goat man.” Lucio didn’t stay around to see what Jay grabbed off the counter, but he sure saw the egg flying past his face. His eyes went wide for a second before he chuckled with confidence.

“Have to do better than that, magician!” He was feeling too much pride at dodging their attack to notice the suddenly wet floor. In front of him water had mixed with the flour, and he slipped, flat onto his back with a loud thud. Jay leaned over him, grinning ear to ear, before smacking him square in the chest with an egg.

“Taunting an elemental based magician was one of many, many wrong choices you have made this day.” They brought their arm back, ready to hurl another egg. Just as they released their throw, another body came hurtling into view.

“I’ll protect you my love!” Keri was now strewn across Lucio’s torso, the egg hitting her square in the back. Jay barely had a moment to process this when Julian slipped on the wet floor, crashing into them, sending the last of the flour flying from his hands and into the air. They fell over into a heap on the floor, all four miscreants now wet and covered in flour.

Rolls of laughter filled the air. The noise was so loud, none of them heard the two people enter the room suddenly, until they spoke.

“What have you guys done?” Came Portia’s voice. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips. “And I wasn’t even invited? I’m hurt!” All four heads turned to look at Portia, and embarrassment crossed over all their faces as well when the noticed Nadia was with her. Julian made an attempt to scramble to his feet, but forgot they were in the heart of the wet flour, and fell flat on his back with a solid thwap. Another short moment of silence before laughter erupted through the room again, Nadia even joining in. Jay was the first person who managed to make it to their feet, and they proceeded to help Keri to her’s. Once she was righted, they moved to help Julian, and Keri went and helped Lucio. Once on his feet, the blonde tried to look suave, shooting a look at Nadia.

“Noddy-” he started, but was met with blank stares from almost everyone in the room.

“Silence goatman.” Jay said, grabbing some flour off the nearby counter and showering him in it.

“I will not ask who started this,” the countess spoke. Despite her words, Julian and Jay were already pointing fingers directly at the count, who put a hand to his chest dramatically in offense. “But I believe we should get this, cleaned up, before you continue. I do believe the kitchen has become somewhat of a... safety hazard.” Her gaze was on the floor covered in water, flour, eggs, and other substances she maybe didn’t want to think too much about.

“I’ll cover everything up so you can come back to it.” Portia assured the group. “But, you all look like you could use a bath.”

“Yes, I could not agree more Portia.”

“Oh perfect!” Lucio said with a cheery grin, grasping Keri enthusiastically by the wrist. “Come, we can use the bath in my wing.~” His voice was a purr as he waggled his eyebrows, the brunette going absolutely red in the face. She stuttered for a moment before the count dragged her off down the hall.

Nadia rolled her eyes watching them go. “As for you two disasters,” Jay and Julian swapped exaggeratingly offended glances, grins plastered to their faces, “As always, you are free to use my bath, since I will not need it at the moment.” With rushed thanks the two made their way upstairs, moving so fast they almost ate it on the wet tile once more. Their giggles trailed down the hallway.

#the arcana #julian devorak #count lucio #self ship #self shipping #fic for friend #baking #goofs being goofy

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nymphl · 5 years

Text

Bloodbound - A vampire!Hux x Reader - Ch. 1 - Tangled up in Red or... the bloody Journalist

A/N - Hi, darlings! xD Welcome to the first chapter (named 1st, but actually the 2nd installment xD) of Bloodbound. As promised, here I am to upload to tumblr chapter 1. Before I forget, this story is non linear, so I’ll be going back and forth in its chapters. If you enjoy this chapter, you may give me some notes or leave a comment here, reblogs are also very much appreciated; anything will do xD To those who’ve done it for the Prologue, my biggest thanks and I love you all <3 I hope you like it and liked I said... here on the chapters will get bigger, ok? Happy reading <3

Story summary: Bound by blood… After you left the First Order and joined the Resistance, moved with a deep hatred for General Armitage Hux, you never expected to meet said man in a Gala in Canto Bight, nor that your past was intimately interlaced with his. When the past is written in blood, can you start anew, a new chapter of your own, or are you forever bound to him? When all is said and done, can you still keep on hating a man who has all eternity to hate himself?

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 tags: from lovers to enemies; from enemies to lovers; partners to lovers; eventual romance; vampire!hux; vampires in space; vampires, blood, blood binds; First Order; Resistance; power play; politics; Hux backstory; political alliances; political betrayals; vampire sex; shameless smut; memory loss; mesmerizing; vampire powers; vampire politics; Starkiller Base; military prowess; empire; emperor; Emperor!Hux; dhampirs.

Wordcount: 7403.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

Canto Bight Casino, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Six hours ago

“ENOUGH.”

Several pairs of eyes focused on you as the words — a bit louder than you intended — left your lips. With a small smile, you tilted your head in a polite gesture and continued to glide along the illustrious guests.

On the other side of the connection, the silence lasted but a second. Soon, your ears were filled with a loud, incessant argument that in spite of your attempts, you couldn’t make a thing of.

This time, when you spoke, you were careful to place a wineglass in front of your lips. Even if you despised Canto Casino and the annoying Galas to which only the wealthiest — thus the nastiest — were invited, you couldn’t say you hated it when they served Bespin Port. By far, that was one of the finest wines you’ve tasted in your entire life.

“I said enough!”

“But mom—” And once more, even if you tried, you couldn’t understand what the twins were saying. You felt like rolling your eyes, but stopped before you could draw more attention to yourself.

“Don’t mom on me!” You placed your wineglass in a nearby tray and took another with a small smile. “Nik, you go first!”

“But mom! I’m—

“The oldest, Steela, I know.” I was there when you were born, remember? you felt like saying. Instead, you inhaled deeply; your patience wearing thin. “This time, let’s do it in alphabetical order, shall we? Nik, you may start.”

You were about to say that if one of them said mom again, you’d… Before you could finish the thought, you spotted different security guards from what you were used to whenever the feeble General Mitaka attended those annoying Galas in Cantonica.

“Okay…” You bit your bottom lip. “Can we talk about it when I get home?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Don’t— Oh!” You shook your head. You were so used to your children going But mom all over you, it was a surprise when they simply complied. Your eyes softened a little. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Your heart clenched with guilty. If your children spent so much time arguing and yelling at each other, it was because that was one of the fastest ways to get your attention.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the anger boiling inside of you.

How could you blame them when you were the one to spend so much time outside? Being a single mom wasn’t easy for anybody, but between your job, the Resistance and parenting — even after seven years, you were still getting the hang of it — things tended to get a bit messy from time to time. Honestly, it was far easier when the twins were just toddlers smearing their clothes all over the house. Far more tiring as well — you recalled how you’d nurse them and at the same time do your little magic and jam the First Order with your cunning words. There were times in which Nik would leave the nursery, crawl all over the house and sleep with his pillow at your feet in one of those endless nights in which you had to force yourself to keep awake while you wrote something for The Canto Bight Gazette.

“But mom!”

And there we go…

A tired sigh left you. Yeah, things were way easier back then.

“Steela, not now.” This time, when a waiter passed nearby, you took a glass with Corellian brandy and drank it in one gulp. Your hands were trembling slightly — part of you wished you could for once get at least a bit lightheaded. If General Mitaka wasn’t the one to attend the Gala tonight, you feared you wouldn’t be able to uncover the truth regarding some negotiations regarding both the First Order and the Resistance. “We’ll talk when I get home. I love you two. Over and out.”

Before any of them could say anything else — before they could go mom on you —, you shut off the connection. With a deep breath, you scanned the entire Ballroom, looking for any clues that General Mitaka had just been promoted — to Grand-Marshall, hopefully — and the Supreme Leader — or Emperor as you affectionately dubbed him — merely decided to improve his loyal employee’s security and thus his standing in society.

So far, all you could see — apart from the new security guards — was the wealthiest people from all over the Galaxy dressed in black and white, drinking to their hearts content. Some of them had their eyes glued on you, watching you with hawk-like attention through their expensive masks.

Part of you wondered if it was the lack of a mask or the fact you weren’t dressed in the same colors as them or… even because you were a renowned journalist. Or so they thought.

In fact, no one could say you didn’t do your job right. You did. It’s just… You had another job. Being a columnist for The Canto Bight Gazette was something you did occasionally… Something you prided yourself for being a part of, your main activity, but a disguise for what you did undercover.

In such dark times, it felt only right to be a part of the Resistance — both in practical and intellectual terms. As far as you knew, the new Supreme Leader wanted to give off an impression that his precious First Order wasn’t an authoritarian organization. As if… The talk about Freedom Press could only go so far… It could only deceive a few…

…And certainly not you.

You wondered what General Organa would say if she knew what plans you had in store for tonight. You bet she’d reprimand you; ask for you to leave at once, and this time she’d have Commander Dameron’s support — and even the Maker would find it surprising for them to agree over a topic.

“Widow?”

Speaking of the devil…

You nodded, forgetting completely that you were equipped with an archaic technology that contrary to a usual comm didn’t allow you to see your collocutor’s face, “I’m working, Dameron.”

“So am I, Minara.”

A shiver ran down your spine at how he addressed you. It wasn’t your true surname, but ever since you left the First Order — you could barely believe it was almost a decade ago —, you decided to lay low for the sake of your children — and your own safety — and took in another last name.

“Are you at the Gala?” he asked. If there was something you liked about Poe Dameron was the fact he went straight to the topic. Friendship aside, both of you were working right now.

“Yes,” you replied, accepting a Green Champagne a passerby waiter offered you. Dear Maker, when would the alcohol start taking effect? “Why?”

“And I assume you didn’t get the ‘black and white masquerade memo’.”

You smirked.

“You know me so well.”

There was silence for a moment. You could almost see his face contorting in the telltales of a smirk. You smiled in spite of yourself.

“I’d advise against red—

“Oh… I’m already wearing it.” You brought the glass to your crimson-colored lips, tasting the champagne. The bubbly beverage was refreshing, if not a bit sugarier than the Port you’d just had.

“It’d be way easier for you to just put a target on your back.”

You sighed.

“Who knows? Perhaps I want to draw attention.”

As a journalist, you were always seeking attention. You didn’t become the main columnist for The Canto Bight Gazette by keeping a low profile. In fact, it was because of your meddlesome behavior that you could get valuable information for the Resistance and, once in a while, get Dopheld Mitaka talking. Part of you pitied him — he’d been the one to support you when you needed most; if not for him, you’d probably be on the streets, begging for credits so you could feed your children —, but it wasn’t your fault he wouldn’t leave the bad guys.

General Mitaka was a good man — more than you could say about the Supreme Leader, a man you hated with every fiber in your being. He just had… To see it. The day he removed the blindfold they put in his eyes, he’d know he’s been fighting for the wrong side all along. For now, you were grateful he didn’t rat you out and fed you tiny bits of information concerning that hateful organization of his once in a while.

“What for?” His voice dragged you from your thoughts. It sounded genuinely confused for a moment, but shortly after — as if the whole galaxy made sense again — he added, “The twins again? Did they tie D-Five up?”

You even opened your mouth to comment on how difficult it was getting to keep those two off each other’s throats, but closed it immediately. The orchestra had just stopped playing and the soft, pleasant notes were smothered by the imperious silence. Then, a few whispers here and there — barely recognizable for anyone but you —, hit your ears.

“Minara?”

You furrowed your brows. A few guests shifted their attention to the main doors located at the entrance of the Ballroom. You followed their gaze, seeking confirmation for what you’ve heard when you saw it, a tall man with strikingly ginger hair crossing the threshold with Dopheld Mitaka on his heels.

A gasp left you — and several other guests as well.

“Say, Dameron…” You wetted your bottom lip. “Does the Emperor appear in your guest list?”

“What?” You grimaced as he all but shouted in your ear. Kriffs! “Emperor as in Supreme Leader… As in Armitage Hux? The tall, skinny guy? Kinda pasty?”

“Do we know any other?” It wasn’t like the Propaganda Boy — or Poster boy, as you once called him in one of your sharp comments in the beginning of your own career as a journalist — shied away from state posters. His face was very, very remarkable. You used to stare at one of his holovids wondering why you hated him so much. Needless to say, you never found an answer.

You shook your head and cast a glance at your left hand. Your fingers were trembling around the glass. You didn’t even understand your own reaction. “Poe?”

“Minara... Leave.”

You even thought about saying you couldn’t — the Emperor and General Mitaka had already spotted you; the latter had his eyes widened —, but the words died in your mouth before you could speak them out loud. You stared at both of them, unable to even step aside — like all the other guests did.

For the first time, you really felt like you had a target on your back.

“Minara?”

It was with relief that you felt a corpulent man with a feathery mask enclosing his hand around your wrist and pulling you aside. As if the spell had been broken, you shot him a grateful smile. You didn’t know him, but you felt like you owed your life to him.

“Minara?”

Swallowing, you walked to the outskirts of the Ballroom, trying to get invisible. Suddenly, you regretted wearing red tonight. If you knew the Emperor himself would show up at this kriffing Gala, you’d have stuck to the black and white boring dress code.

“Poe… If anything happens to me, please…”

“Minara?” His voice was raspy; the connection was getting worse. "Are you leaving?”

“Please, take care of Nik and Steela. Over and out.”

Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Now

You spat your blood on the floor. With extreme care, you moved your head from side to side. It ached. A lot. Even your wrists, bound with heavy handcuffs, were a source of discomfort.

For the past two hours, you spent in the company of a young police officer — really, the man was fresh as a baby; you could bet it was his first interrogation —, being questioned. For… your own safety, they said.

You could’ve smiled if your jaw didn’t hurt so much. The coppery taste of blood in your lips left you partly nauseated — and for the Maker, you’d lose it if you tasted any more of your own blood tonight — but you fought off such reaction and focused on the task at hand. It is, getting out of this stinking cell in Canto Bight Police Headquarters.

If you knew you’d get caught so quickly, you’d never have asked Poe to hack Cantonica Radio 1 and broadcast news regarding the construction of a new Death Star — which they ominously baptized Starkiller — with hopes to destroy the Hosnian System and, Hosnian Prime, the Capital of the New Republic — the uttermost symbol of resistance against the tyranny that kriffing organization represented in the Galaxy. You’d hoped to at least be able to flee the city — in the impossibility of fleeing the planet so soon —, but your boss was fast to appoint you as the one behind the news.

A sigh escaped you.

Honestly, you didn’t regret it one bit. Every single soul residing or even passing by the Corporate Sector had listened to the voice report. Besides the allegation of your boss — out of sheer despair; you didn’t judge the man that harshly — there wasn’t a single proof you were the journalist responsible for the news report.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The whispered voice made you shift your attention back to the man in front of you. He paced from one side to the other.

“I really, really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You almost rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t.”

He grimaced; guilt evident in his vibrant irises. He approached you, with a handkerchief in his left hand, but you shook your head.

“You’re supposed to interrogate me, not to me help me.”

He lowered his head, as if ashamed. In that moment, he resembled General Mitaka — from when he was a mere Officer and later a Lieutenant. You did you best to brush off such memories and stared at him.

“I-It’s just…” He bailed his fists. “It’s just not right…”

“Listen to me.” You waited till he stared back at you to continue, “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I didn’t prevent him from hurting you either.”

That much was true — yet, you didn’t judge him either; it seemed you were in a forgiving mood today. His boss, the Police Chief, was the one to assault you. What could you say? You once wrote a news reporting regarding the endemic corruption in the corporation. As a result, he’d been removed from office for a year or so, before he returned and was actually promoted.

You closed your eyes, attuning to the approaching steps outside. The sound was vastly different from when the Police Chief dragged you to one of the interrogation rooms. Soon, the steps came to a halt and a voice was heard.

“Your Highness…” There was a small pause; the speaker sounded surprised. “The culprit is being interrogated right now. You sh—

There was no answer from the other part. That or your heart was beating so madly against your ribcages you couldn’t hear anything else.

You sucked in a breath, trying to control yourself, so you could listen to the conversation unfolding. Sadly, your hearing wasn’t as good as your children’s and it was even worse after the incident — if you could qualify that as such — with the Emperor. However, that wasn’t so easy. The bloody Emperor — Supreme Leader, you’d better call him by his right title — was in the CBPD to visit — or kill, maybe — you.

There was absolutely no reason to believe he came to free you.

And here you were, expecting to be freed by the end of the night. Or, at least, the next day. You could only hope your children were alright. And away from your house. So much for wishful thinking…

In a few more seconds — or a few more steps — an officer opened the door of the interrogation room, holding it open for the Emperor to come in. You bit your bottom lip as he stared at your form, bluish eyes darkening at your disheveled appearance. Before the officer could speak — or even the approaching and breathless Police Chief could open his mouth —, he cut them to it, his voice sounding imperious and unbelievably cold,

“Uncuff her.”

Canto Bight Casino, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Four hours ago

It took a few minutes and some more glasses of Green Champagne for you to calm down.

Kriffs!

The Emperor — and you really, really ought to stop calling him that, however difficult it was —, his presence… it changed everything.

Ever since you’ve found out the First Order started working on a second Death Star, you’ve seen more and more planets pledge their loyalty to them. Cantonica was one of the few planets that decided to remain neutral… So far. If Cantonica could show some strength by choosing independence, so could other planets.

If the Emperor decided to show his face at this Gala, it was either because he was trying to woo the Representatives of Cantonica, or because… You swallowed at the idea… He already had their loyalty.

Downing the Green Champagne at once, you placed the glass on a tray and walked towards your boss. The owner of the most important newspaper in all the Corporate Sector would know. He’d have to.

Honestly, you were counting on the first scenario — in such case it wasn’t all lost and you somehow could… make them see reason. Well, not exactly you, but someone else… Your boss, Nilim Taa, for example. But if it was the second… You didn’t want to think about it.

For the maker!

You plastered a smile on your face and made your way to him. A huge man, the Rutian Twi’lek of 7 feet and massive bodily proportions, he hid whomever he was talking to.

Even before you could reach him, he turned to you. An inviting, warm smile on his lips as he outstretched his hand for you.

You smiled back, but it was short-lived. Casting a curious glance to his companion, you spotted the one his huge frame concealed. You swallowed.

“Minara, what a pleasure.” His voice, an eternal singsong, didn’t make you feel at ease as it always did. “Let me introduce you to our esteemed Supreme Leader, Armitage Hux.”

You bowed your head slightly and offered your trembling hand for him to shake — you could only hope neither would notice how nervous you were. However, he all but surprised you when he brought it to his lips and bestowed a gentlemanly kiss on your knuckles.

“This is Minara,” your boss announced you. “(Y/N) Minara.” He smiled. “Minara has some problems following the guidelines,” he finished, shaking his head because of the lack of a mask and the proper black and white clothes — and, if you could probably add, because of other things to. “But she’s one of the finest journalists out there.”

The Emperor didn’t seem to mind this or simply decided not to comment on it — if he did, you could promptly comment he wasn’t wearing a mask either, it is, if you dared to look at him. Needless to say, you were unable to meet his eyes. Yours remained on the floor, looking at your high heels. In any case, a shiver ran down your spine at the contact with his cold lips.

“Enchanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Minara,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to hold your hand.

Unable to find your own voice, you merely nodded.

“She usually isn’t this shy,” your boss commented, his cheerful — even if worried — intonation made the Emperor look intensely at you and General Mitaka smile nervously. “Right, Minara?”

“No, she isn’t…” The Emperor was reticent in his agreement. Even if you couldn’t muster enough courage to look at him, you knew he didn’t deviate his attention from you for not even a second. You could feel his eyes on you and it was… extremely unsettling.

Behind the Emperor, General Mitaka cleared his throat, “I wonder what she’s going to write about tonight.”

“Certainly only the best, General!” Nilim interjected, his nervousness showing more at each passing second. His usual cheerful tone long forgotten; in its place, only a fragile, small man whose ideals of Press Freedom mattered very little in front of someone such as the powerful Supreme Leader. “Only the best, I assure you.”

“If the best matches the truth…” Your voice was finally heard. Your eyes finally met his and you couldn’t help but swallow. They were of the most intense blue color you’d ever seen. “Now, if you excuse me.”

You bowed your head and tried to remove your hand from his. Nevertheless, he held onto it, keeping it — keeping you — within his grasp. His unseeingly strength fazed you for a brief moment.

“I was hoping you would give me the pleasure of accompanying me in this dance.”

You looked at him speechless. Mouth hanging open, you bet you weren’t the only one flabbergasted. You bit your bottom lip and took a step away.

“I-I... No.” You shook your head. Your boss stared at you completely horrified — after all, who were you to deny the prestigious Supreme Leader? —; you felt as if you had grown thirty heads at once — a hideous image to look at and yet, something one couldn’t simply look away. “If you kindly excuse me…”

Canto Bight Casino, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Two hours ago

Your lips were still tingling — your body was trembling, your head was spinning; what, for the lava of Mustafar, was that? — when Poe’s voice was finally heard through the speakers for the entirety of Canto Bight Casino.

The Supreme Leader was still holding you — his body went completely rigid as he heard the breaking news — in his arms, and now you didn’t wonder anymore why he was so strong, considering his lean physique.

He was looking past you, bluish eyes set on the horizon — or the next speakers, you didn’t know for real —, crushing you into his embrace. With your arms on his shoulders, you pushed him away, but you were aware he’d only let go if it was his wish.

This… The Emperor… He… wasn’t a regular man. On the contrary. Among the most feared beings in the galaxy there were the almighty force users and vampires. This man — the one holding you — was the second.

Licking his plump lower lip, he wiped away any traces of your blood.

It explained his strength and why you felt lightheaded in his company — why you felt watched, even when you were away from his inquisitive eyes. He was trying to read your mind. You couldn’t guess his reason, but you thought he was looking for some clue on what you’d meant to write about him and the deal between Cantonica and the First Order — every dictator’s dream was to be able to know what media would write about them ahead of publication; he couldn’t be that different, right?

You were glad you did your homework and didn’t let him in more than necessary — which, was, perhaps worse. When he wasn’t able to get whatever he wanted out of you through the conventional means — if one can call prying into someone’s thoughts and memories conventional —, he did the unthinkable.

He listened to the whole news reporting with you still in his embrace; his dead heart started beating quickly in his chest, pumping blood through his veins. His right cheek pressed to yours, slowly warmed up his otherwise cool, unnatural face. Except for the way his fingers around you pressed you against him, you had no idea how he took the news of his secret — not so secret anymore — weapon becoming breaking news.

However, there wasn’t any time for explanations, for he let you go and suddenly after the doors were jarred open. Through them, you saw not only your boss’ trembling finger pointed at you, but with him a few officers from the Canto Bight Police Department.

Canto Bight Casino, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Three hours ago

“Kriffs, Dameron!” You placed both hands on the baluster, analyzing the distance to the floor. Right now, jumping over seemed the only way to escape this night alive. “I knew it. Cantonica is pledging loyalty to the First Order right now.”

After the ceremony started — after the most important person in all of Cantonica decided to bend the knee to some sort of authoritative jerk and all the wealthiest people decided to do the same —, you left the Ballroom — not unnoticed, you knew; all the time the Emperor had his eyes set on you — and headed to the much-needed privacy only the balcony could provide right now.

“Minara, what are you still doing there?” You thought he sounded worried; out there, in the open, the connection was even worse. At least, you weren’t feeling watched anymore, nor there was that slight pressure on the back of your head. “It’s too dangerous.”

You smiled as a Chagrian couple walked past you. It seemed the ceremony had just ended, and a few unimportant guests left the Ballroom to chat over expensive drinks and watch the fathiers running in the racetrack. You waited till the couple was out of earshot to speak, “I know… But till last week, Cantonica’s decision was for neutrality.” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “It’s even worse than we believed, Poe! They decided to move the Capital… They… He’s choosen Cantonica! I’ve to do something… I have to!”

You shook your head, the amount of alcoholic drinks you’d had was starting to finally affect you. When it only made you dizzier — and everyone knew how difficult it was for even Port in a Storm to knock you over — you decided it was time to take a walk at the gardens; it would help you clear your mind and set your ideas straight.

Just like pretty much everything in this kriffing planet, the gardens — the ocean as well — were artificially created. You were still to discover something a few millions of credits couldn’t buy.

“You don’t seriously intend for me to release your news reporting while you are at the Gala, do you?”

“Do you have a better idea?” you whispered smiling back at an old Rodian lady; your face was starting to hurt given how much you smiled that night. Inside, you were about to cry from desperation.

As expected, he didn’t reply. Of course he didn’t have a better idea. Poe Dameron wasn’t known for his plans — in fact, he wasn’t known for following other’s plans either. He was more likely to have no plan at all and make decisions out of the blue.

You were beyond frustrated.

If Cantonica, one of the few remaining neutral systems decided to pledge loyalty to the First Order, it meant all the other planets would as well; including those loyal to the Resistance — just like the Emperor said that night, the New Republic was no more, for now only metaphorically, but soon, literally, and all that was left was a small group of rioters whose main objective was to set the Galaxy ablaze — would leave neutrality behind.

You were on the verge of losing everything you’ve been working so hard for the past years — all you and your friends have been working were on the brink of extinction. You could only imagine what General Organa was feeling right now. If it was difficult for you to deal with it, right now… you could only imagine how it was for someone who had fight her whole life to set the Galaxy free from the reigns of a dictatorial organization.

So far, you could hide your association to the Resistance given Cantonica’s neutrality. Free Press wasn’t only valued but expected. If you could criticize a government and still have your rights guaranteed it was only because the planet decided not to pick a side. Now…

Now…

Given his silence, you decided to press him further, “Would you back down if you were me?” You bit your bottom lip. “Would you back down when you know you can make the people fight this bizarre decision?”

Once again, he chose to stay silent. A tired — and yet relieved — sigh left you.

“That’s what I thou—

Before you could finish what you were saying, you heard some commotion in the balcony. There were whispers all around you and then silence. Utter, sepulchral silence. You were on the first steps leading to the garden, but given the commotion — or lack thereof —, you decided to stop where you were and look back. At the same time, another voice sounded in your ears in a firm and commanding tone.

“(Y/N), this is General Organa, and this is an order: leave the Gala right now.”

You furrowed your brows.

Your heart quickened.

At the center of the balcony, there was the person you’ve been running from all night, the Emperor. All the guests made their way back to the Ballroom, till there was no one else outside. It is, except for you and the Supreme Leader — Emperor — himself.

“I-I can’t,” you whispered and before she could say anything else, you shut off the connection without even saying over and out.

With your head held high — there was no point in trying to make yourself invisible right now —, you climbed up the stairs and headed back to the Ballroom in silence. All this time, the tall, ginger man — Poe’s words didn’t sound so funny now — had his back turned to you. His hands were entwined at his back; his head was slightly upwards, as he faced the starry night sky. When you placed your hand on the doorknob, his voice startled you.

“You aren’t dismissed, Miss Minara.”

You held your breath.

What?

“It’s mistress,” you corrected him. “Now, if you kindly excuse me, Your Highness.” You didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in your tone. There was something about this man — something about his looks, about his voice, about his standing… about his nature, that made you feel very strongly about him. And it wasn’t a good feeling. Not at all. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

He turned to face you, but you remained exactly where you were, unable to even cast a glance at him over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, hoping that such action could bring you some calmness.

It didn’t.

You felt once again that pressure in the back of your head. You brought your hand to your neck and let it fall to your sides.

“Nilim Taa dismissed you for the night.”

Kriffs!

You opened your mouth to give him a reply — some reply, any reply — but closed it shortly after. What would you say? What could you say? Your heart was on the verge of breaking your ribcages. There was so much you wanted to say — so much you could say — and yet, you found yourself unable to even talk to him. You were usually a calm, collected and even rational person, but somehow… Somehow, this very man — this stranger — blinded you. All you could feel right now was a bubbling anger. You hated him to your bones. It came so natural to you, you couldn’t even begin to understand such feeling.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked. Whispered. And you tensed. Suddenly, he was right behind you. Quite but not touching. Yet, you could feel every hair in your body bristling.

“Yes,” the answer — the truth — rolled off your tongue with ease. You flexed your fingers, unable to decide whether to keep your standing or to turn around and face him.

There was a moment of silence. It was very long and somewhat even more uncomfortable and awkward than any other situation you could remember. You could hear the soft melody of a Waltz being played. If you dared opening your eyes, you’d see his face reflected on the glassy doors; the look of longing on his face.

Instead, you felt his fingers slithering over yours. And even if you felt deeply about this stranger, it felt… good to have his skin pressed against your own.

You shuddered.

“What are you doing?” you asked; too shocked with yourself to even process the fact you were leaning against him.

He chose silence.

For some reason it didn’t seem odd. It felt as if… You’ve been there before… In this situation. It felt as if you were used to expect silence from him. When he placed his smooth face against yours and slowly… very slowly… ran his nose over the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, you felt like losing it.

In a force breaker that had yourself even surprised, you stepped away from him. Get away from me died in your lips, for his odd comment had you furrowing your brows, “Your heart is accelerated.”

Obviously, ‘as it should’ should be your first reasoning, but it was quickly foreshadowed by ‘how in the force can you hear it?’. There wasn’t any time for such questionings for you felt that again. The pressure in the back of your head.

The probing.

Your eyes widened.

Two creatures — if one could qualify as such — did that. It is, probed people’s minds, force users and vampires. As far as you knew, the Emperor hated force users. Being the Propaganda Boy, he’d certainly promote force users if he were one of them.

You bit your bottom lip and stepped backwards. If the thought of the first left you with mixed feelings, the latter made you feel… exposed. Vulnerable.

Worried sick for your children’s safety.

You brushed them off. It’d do you no good to think about them now. Even if you were good — quite good if you could add — at reining in your thoughts and blocking your mind from intruders, if he really were a vampire, it’d be easy for him to catch onto your feelings and read… whatever you’re trying to hide from him.

“A widow… I see…”

Cornered and afraid, you asked, “What do you really want?”

He didn’t reply.

And you wondered how sickly he must be to enjoy torturing others with his silence. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him with your chin held high; your eyes intensely focused on him.

“Your feelings regarding the First Order are quite intense.”

He was polite to mention the First Order and not he himself. Instead, you boldly clarified, “I hate you.”

And everything you and your organization stands for.

Somehow, you felt as if you shouldn’t expect an answer.

Yet, he nodded.

If he was taken aback by your answer, he didn’t let it show. With his hands placed behind his back, in a very General-like mode — rumor has it that he killed both the previous Supreme Leader and his force user apprentice when he was a mere General and took up on his role as the mastermind for that awful organization a few years ago — and walked towards you.

As you backed down, your back met the baluster. You even thought about jumping down, but he beat you to it, “I’ll catch you before you can even blink.”

You drew in a breath when you realized how close he was. In a heartbeat, he was in front of you, invading your personal space.

“I know what you are,” you spoke, more like whispered, when he took a hold of your left hand and with his nail punctured the skin of your finger. You gasped, unable to tear your eyes from the crimson drop sprouting from the small wound. “And I-I…” Your mouth hung open as he brought your thumb to his lips.

The moment his cold lips made contact with your skin, you lost the ability to speak…

…to think.

You stared at him, speechless as he closed his lids and sucked vigorously on the small wound. A shiver ran down your spine and you slowly let your eyes shut. Part of you wanted to fight it, to yank your hand away from his grasp and to keep your thoughts to yourself.

It didn’t take a genius to understand that once he realized himself unable to read your thoughts in the conventional mode, he’d find far more Machiavellian means to get any information out of you. But if in the mind probing you’d some control of what he saw, in this fashion, you’d no idea of what unfolded behind his very lids.

With a growl, his eyes fluttered open and he let go of your already healed finger. In a heartbeat — a moment of utter confusion, really —, the Emperor took your lips in a rather chaste kiss.

Or so you thought.

Before long, his fangs pierced your lower lip. Both of his hands slid to the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. A gasp left you as your body met his, your own hands stationing on his shoulders as you dizzily let him take you — and part of you wondered if it was the first time this kind of situation took place.

He insinuated his leg between yours at the same time he ran his left hand through the slit of your dress; his fingers slowly tracing the exposed extension of your thigh. His right hand crept through your hair as he licked your lip, stroking his tongue along yours leisurely. Boldly. A gasp died in your throat as a shock of electricity ran through your body — and you thought his too — forcing you to open your eyes to stare at him, wide-eyed. As for him, he quickly jerked away from you.

The Supreme Leader kept his eyes closed and even with your messy senses, you could hear the slight growl rising in his chest. To your surprise, it was a confused… pained sound; his arms immediately tightened around you.

With your head pressed to his chest, you couldn’t see his expression. Nor you could make a thing of the entire situation. It was just… Unbelievably. Drained and bleary, you tried to push him away, till you heard his voice, “I’ve a proposit—

However, it was cut off by Poe’s voice on the speakers…

…reading your news report.

Canto Bight Police Headquarters, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Now

It took the officer in the interrogation room a moment to heed the Emperor’s command and uncuff you. He did it with trembling hands; it was a surprise he didn’t let the keys fall noisily to the floor more than once and as you — and everyone else — expected.

The Police Chief watched the whole scene with his jaw set, but if he were against the straightforward command, he didn’t comment on that. His eyes were on you, watching you with intensity. It seemed getting promoted wasn’t enough for him, he’d have to have you at his mercy.

Guess it wasn’t his lucky day.

As for you, you were sure this was absolutely not your best day. Luck was never really something you counted on, but it seemed you’re running out of it tonight.

You massaged your wrists lightly and then flexed both of your hands as soon as you were set free. Part of you was dying to wipe the dried blood out of your face — and you were somehow unable to decided whether you should wait for the Officers to leave the room —, but you did want to give the Police Chief a good look of you, because if you left the CBPD alive, you’d make sure to write about him and how his corporation handled the Press.

And another part, well… You didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself in the company of such villainous creature.

“Leave us.”

You received his words with bated breath. Part of you was afraid to be with him — alone. Even if you hated him with every fiber in your being — this man represented everything you fought against, to get rid of —, you couldn’t deny how you strongly you felt when he held you in his arms.

It’s not that it felt right.

No.

It didn’t.

But it didn’t feel wrong either.

It felt… bittersweet.

It sparked something in your memory. Something you couldn’t quite grasp yet, but that left you desperate to get away from him.

And there he was.

In front of you.

He waited for a few minutes after everyone left in eerie silence; his impossibly blue eyes never focused on you for a moment. And this time you made sure to have your own set on him, watching for any minimal reaction or any suggestion that he’d get anywhere close…

…to do nothing.

It wasn’t as if you could do something.

Even if you could take care of yourself fairly well — and if not for having been waiting to use the Police Chief’s strike against him and his corrupt corporation — you’d never let him abuse his power. But this man… this very man in front of you was… something else.

It was no man.

It was a creature.

An evil one…

The ancient lore removed from horror stories that you — having two of them at home; having giving birth to them — knew to be true. Not that your children were alike him. They were, and they weren’t.

You shook your head.

You’d lost too much blood already, if he wanted to read your mind — if he didn’t see all he wanted before when he sank his fangs into you —, now would be the perfect time. If you just so let yourself lose control of your thoughts, it’d be too easy for him to get whatever he wanted now.

And you didn’t want to think what he could want.

Next thing you saw, he shifted his blue eyes and stared at you pensively. He outstretched his hand and offered a handkerchief you promptly accepted. You brought it to your busted lip and cleaned it. You usually healed faster than an average human, but this time — but tonight and after everything that took place —, your body didn’t seem to do the trick. It burned when the fabric met your skin.

You fought a grimace and busied yourself by looking at the detailed needlework. It had not only his initials embroidered in it, A.H as in Armitage Hux — part of you expected to have read Emperor somewhere, and the thought made you scoff lightly —, and the symbol of his precious First Order.

The sight made you bit your bottom lip and screw all your earlier work of cleaning yourself. The coppery taste of blood reached your tongue fast as you threw away his handkerchief.

If he felt offended by your gesture, he didn’t comment on that. He’d walked way, but you could see his face through the almost shiny surface of brushed steel of one of the walls. His image was rather distorted, but you guessed it was just fine for a creature such as him. His hands were entwined at his back and his head was held high as he spoke,

“I know it was you.”

You bit your bottom lip, and this time, a drop of blood hit the floor. Even if you couldn’t see it — for it was such a small reaction —, you could hear him inhaling sharply.

“But you can’t prove it,” you spoke confidently. To prove your association to the Resistance was the same to say his new ally — the people of his new home — was conspiring with his enemy. And that spoke more of his precious First Order and he himself than of Cantonica and its representatives — its people. Not a good move if you’d a say. “You can’t.”

He looked at you over his shoulder; his expression blank.

“I don’t care.”

You furrowed your brows.

“Y-You don’t?”

Your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your bravery of seconds ago vanished completely. It could mean one thing… Actually, it could mean a lot… But you felt… you knew… to expect the worst.

The First Order and its assets — it’s most powerful asset — had nothing good offer. They couldn’t.

Furthermore, he was a vampire.

And vampires couldn’t offer anything good. Because goodness came as easy to a vampire as giving up came to you.

“I said before I’ve a proposition for you,” he spoke, approaching you in light steps. When he stopped in front of you, you’d no other choice, except to crane your neck to stare at him. “I came to discuss it."

A/N - Well, that’s all. Like I said, the chapters for this story are way too big. But I hope you’ve enjoyed it. The names Steela and Nik were taken from SW. Steela is a homage to Steela Onderon from TCW and Nik is a homage to the Resistance fighter in ROTJ. Each of the 4 chapters (not much I know, this story takes time to write) I’ve posted on AO3 are going to be posted here on Wednesdays. See you then xD

#bloodbound #hux x reader #hux x you #vampire!hux #vampire hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #vampires in space #general hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux #armitage hux #space vampires #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars sequels #sequels

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gorgeousdan · 7 years

Text

emily.

summary: a year in the life of dan and phil after the birth of their daughter. word count: 1590 warnings: heavy kissing, presmut, drinking (recreational) prompt: “D & P adopt a child and the different stages/milestones within theirs and the child’s life.” Listen to the playlist here

NEW YEAR'S 2017

It’s New Year’s Eve and Dan and Phil are snuggled into each other. Phil’s got an arm around Dan’s waist as he talks to Louise. Dan’s head lolls against Phil’s shoulder. He’s much less sober than Phil is, but he doesn’t care. He’s content to feel the rumble of Phil’s voice in his chest, feel Phil’s fingers trace over his hipbones.

Louise smiles warmly at the two of them. She’s been absolutely glowing since the news about her second child, and Dan supposes that’s probably what brings the question up. “So,” she says. “When are the beautiful husbands-” she motions to the matching rings on their hands, there since Japan when they had taken each other for life in a sudden, unplanned ceremony, “-going to grace us with a child of their own?”

“Oh-” Phil starts.

He’s probably about to come up with some excuse to talk her out of it. Phil’s really good at doing that. When Dan didn’t want labels as a scared, closeted kid in 2012, he’d come up with excuses like “we’re not rushing into anything” and “we don’t believe in labels.” Again, when Dan was afraid of getting married, “we have too much on our plate,” “we don’t need a piece of paper to prove we love each other.”

The baby thing is the new thing Phil needs to make excuses for. But Dan’s really drunk so he cuts Phil off with a “-tomorrow.”

Louise knows that drunk promise means nothing, but Phil’s eye catches Dan’s for just a moment too long and both of them can suddenly feel the energy that look has.

When midnight strikes, everyone shouts their blessings for a beautiful 2017. Phil pulls Dan into a kiss that’s as beautiful and mind numbing as their kisses usually are. Dan secretly vows to bring the baby thing up when they’re both more sober.

If he remembers, that is.

MAY 15th, 2018

Dan’s leg is shaking as he sits next to Phil in an ER at three in the morning.

It had taken over a year - a crazy, hectic, amazing year - to work everything out, but they had. They found a surrogate and signed the papers and were there for every one of her milestones. And then Phil got a call at three in the morning that their surrogate had gone into labor and neither he nor Dan was even angry at the fact that they were woken up.

They’re having a baby.

They barely get any sleep, and at nine, half asleep, a nurse comes to get them.

Their surrogate looks like she’s just been through hell and back, but she’s holding a baby in her arms and that’s all that Dan can focus on. That’s their daughter. She’s holding their daughter.

She catches Dan’s eye and smiles at him. “Do you want to hold her?” she asks.

Dan wants so badly to hold his daughter, but he’s frozen in fear. Phil steps forward and says, “Can I hold her?” and then takes her when the surrogate nods.

“Dan,” he says, his voice quiet and reverent and on the verge of tears. “Dan, she’s gorgeous.” He bounces their daughter, hums softly under his breath. Dan feels his heart swell with affection for his family - his family.

“Oh, let me,” he says suddenly. Phil just smiles and carefully gives Dan their daughter.

Dan looks down at her, her beautiful little face, her tiny hands, she’s perfect. She’s all theirs. Dan almost can’t believe it.

Phil wraps an arm around Dan’s waist and smiles at his husband.

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2018

It’s around midnight when Phil wanders into their lounge with a baby monitor in his hands. He stands in the doorway and watches Dan, standing on a ladder, decorating a tree that’s somehow taller than the both of them.

Phil clears his throat and Dan jumps. He laughs a little as he climbs off the ladder awkwardly. Phil wraps his arms around his husband’s waist, his head against Dan’s shoulder, looking up at the tree.

“You’re such a try-hard,” Phil says softly.

Dan laughs. He turns so he’s facing Phil. “I just want Emily to have a perfect Christmas.”

For the millionth time since they’ve been a couple, his heart bursts with affection for his husband. Dan’s so fucking perfect in every way, Phil’s can’t help but be hopelessly in love with him.

“C’mere,” Phil says, and he pulls Dan into a gentle kiss. Dan’s arms come to wrap around Phil’s neck, Phil’s trailing under Dan’s shirt as he drops the baby monitor to the floor. They haven’t had a lot of alone time since Emily was born and the contact feels amazing. Phil’s half-convinced he could kiss Dan forever.

Of course, that’s when the baby monitor lights up and Emily starts crying again.

Dan and Phil break apart with a breathless laugh. Phil picks the baby monitor up off the floor and gives Dan a sheepish smile. “I should probably go see if she’s okay.”

“Probably,” Dan answers. He pecks Phil’s lips before he smacks his ass. “Go!” he says. “I have to keep being a try-hard, anyway.”

FEBRUARY 14th, 2019

“It’s fine, Dan,” Louise insists. She’s got Emily in her arms as she smiles at Dan. “I love your daughter.”

Dan groans. “I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day,” he says. He packs another shirt into his bag and sighs. “You should be having fun, not watching Emily.”

“You need a day off,” Louise insists. “I know how hard it is being a first time parent. You and Phil deserve some time to get sexy with each other.”

Dan laughs at that. “God, okay, mum,” he says. He kisses Emily’s forehead. “Me and papa will see you tomorrow, baby girl.”

Phil’s the first one into the hotel room, trailed by Dan. “This is nice,” he says.

Dan nods in agreement, “yeah,” he answers. He puts his bags down and goes, “a little dingy, you reckon?”

Phil shrugs. “It’s not like we’re actually staying here.”

Dan presses Phil into a wall and kisses him, Phil’s bag dropping to the floor. Dan gets his hands in Phil’s hair and pulls. Phil whines somewhere high in his throat, presses until he’s flush against Dan.

Dan pulls back enough from the kiss so that he can gets his and Phil’s shirts off and onto the floor. He connects their lips again, gets his hands to Phil’s belt and is in the process of undoing it when his phone rings.

Dan pulls back and Phil latches onto his neck. “No, no, no,” he breathes out, all hot against Dan’s skin. “Don’t answer it.”

Dan whines at the feeling. “I-I have to,” he says. “It could be Louise.”

Phil follows him to his back, kissing down his neck, peppering hot kisses on his skin. Dan picks up his phone and answers. “Lou, hi,” he says, his voice all breathless.

“Dan,” Louise says. Dan can tell she’s been crying and his heart drops.

“Oh my god, Lou, what’s wrong?” he asks. Phil backs up, looks up at Dan through wide eyes. Dan grabs his hand and squeezes as he awaits Louise’ response.

“No,” Louise says through tears. “No, it’s tears of happiness, swear.” She sniffles and then laughs. “I-I was walking with Emily and-and she passed a photo of you lot and she said dada.”

“Oh my God,” Dan says. He sniffles himself.

“What?” Phil asks. He looks terrified.

“Emily said her first word,” Dan tells him. Phil slaps a hand over his own mouth. “She said dada.”

They hang up, but it’s impossible to continue. Dan looks at Phil and he says, “there’s nothing more I want than to be home with my daughter. Is that bad?”

“No,” Phil says. “Because I feel the same way.”

They check out of the hotel room with red eyes and stuffy noses. They know they must look weird, but when they get home to Emily it’s all worth it.

Best Valentine’s Day ever.

APRIL 28th 2019

“Come on, Emily. Come on.”

Dan and Phil are curled into each other on the couch. They watch in amusement as Chris tries to get her to walk. She hasn’t walked yet, and they’re positive she won’t walk towards Chris during a movie.

“Chris, come on,” Dan says. “It’s a worthless cause.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Go back to your movie,” he says. “I’m going to get her to walk. I know I am.”

They watch the movie for a little while, until they hear Chris go “oh, oh! Look!”

They turn in tandem and watch as Emily takes a few steps towards Chris. She falls into his arms giggling.

Phil gets off the couch immediately and pulls his daughter into a hug. “Good job, Emily!” he says. He presses kisses to the side of her head.

Chris smirks up at Dan. “I’ve got the magic touch, Dan,” he says.

Dan smacks him upside the head with a pillow.

MAY 15th 2018

Their flat is a mess.

There’s confetti, wrappers, streamers, cups, plates everywhere. Dan’s been tasked with cleaning it up while Phil puts Emily to sleep. Once she’s down, he goes back to join Dan.

“I’m never throwing another birthday party for Emily ever again,” Dan says. He’s holding a discarded cupcake in one hand and looks disgusted. “I swear to god.”

Later, Phil finds him cuddling Emily on the couch, a book in between them as Dan reads to their daughter.

He knows Dan’s a liar.

Fin.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

madi is the second place winner of the fanfic giveaway that i literally had in june. i have no excuse other than my mental breakdown - please forgive me and take this fic instead.

madi is super sweet and nice; her blog is gorgeous and everything she reblogs is a+, i would totally recommend hitting her up with a little follow.

i asked madi what songs she wanted and she gave me some which i made this playlist based off of! this playlist got me through writing this fic so i would recommend listening and immersing yourself. except it’s been so long that it has her old url oops

if you enjoyed this, please please consider liking or reblogging it. the notes really do help spread the word about my blog and it’s because of you guys that i was able to get out of my weird mental funk and write again.

thank you.

- hunter <3

p.s. hope you enjoyed madi hope you still use tumblr and you remember who i am haha

#pleasantlydaniel #phan #phanfic #phandom #fluff #presmut #making out #dansmemeteam #phanfriendsnetwork #dsliceandangelbeannetwork #personal #hope you liked it madi #hope you don't hate me #<3 #okay get out of the tags #bye

56 notes · View notes

hoetron · 7 years

Text

okay christ i got tagged in htis massive tag game by @mothable but i love a good ol challenge lets do this buckfucks

RULES: ANSWER THESE 88, THEN TAG SOME PEOPLE

BASICS:

a. NAME AND PRONOUNS: Rae, she/her

b. AGE (and birthday!): 13, Aug 28th :3c im a fucking fetus ny’all

c. SEXUALITY: am i bi? am i lesbian? am i just craving existential death 24/7? i dont fucking know a thing my guy

d. GENDER: cis female hooooh

e. COUNTRY: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE OI OI OI

f. FAVORITE AESTHETIC: pastel colours and really nice fashion i guess..??? (also smoking is kind of aesthetic eyes emoji eyes emoji)

TRIGGERS/MENTAL ILLNESSES: i’m not actually sure :x

THE LAST:

1. DRINK: salt water hah normal water is for the WEAK (dont drink salt water please im begging y

2. PHONE CALL: my brother asking what kind of pizza i wanted

3. TEXT MESSAGE: “:3c” im such a fufcking furry...fuckck,,,,

4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Daydream warriors by Aquors listen nyall im reconnecting with my hidden buried weebass side of me okay im crying

5. THE TIME YOU CRIED: i dont actually remember? probably like last year unless you count me having tears from laughing too hard as cryng then thats yesterday during the meme aka now called lightning mcqueen server

HAVE YOU:

6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: nahh

7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: dont think ive ever kissed someone thats not my family before im #Pure

8. BEEN CHEATED ON: nope lmao

9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: my grandfather i guess? but he died when i was really young so at that time i didnt really undersyand the feeling of loss and mourn so ksdjfk but we had some goodass memories together

10. BEEN DEPRESSED: they ask you how you are and you just have to say that you’re fine when you’re not really fine but you just cant get into it because they would never understa

11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: im severely underaged please

TOP 3 FAVORITE COLORS

12. red

13. yellow

14. either black or lavendar,,

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: yis

16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: ya,,

17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: okay im known as the most giggly person in class i laugh so easily that i easily have tears over everything

18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: nahh dont think i wanna know if its like in a bad way :x

19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: aw y e s

20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: ya :,) (Thanks em, lily, mae and imogen for making this year truly greater than last year and for being the best friends i could ever ask for)

21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: facebook is dead to me

GENERAL

22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: serious facebook is dead to me i roasted above the flames of negligence (also because i have like two facebook accounts one using my pesonal email and the other using my more general email , the one using my more general email keeps recommending to me my OWN personal account and its personally so hilarious)

23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: a cat called lucky! (i love him even though im p sure he hates me)

24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: i guess my irl name uhhh im 50-50 with it? but granted on the internet i waaay prefer using the name Rae over my irl one because its short and simple and nice-

25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOU LAST BIRTHDAY: just want to a chinese resturant with my fam and my uncle because we’re simple that way and like. back then i didnt had that much friends so uh l m a o (but vidhi gave me a nerf gun so that was Really Cool and i love her)

26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP TODAY: 9 oclocK BECAUSE A HOUSING AGENT WAS COMING OVER (but then i fell back to sleep and woke up at 12 so lmao)

27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: watching a video on why ‘anime art isnt technically allowed in art school’ because i was just curious and then drawing

28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: VOLTRON LEGENDARY FUCKNG DEFENDERS SEASON 3 SHIT BABES IM REA LLY FUCKING PREPARED AND NEAR END OF MONTH AVCON BECAUSE EYES EMOJI

29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: an hour ago lmao shes like just outside my room

30. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU COULD CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE: sighs my shyness and social anxiety and awkwardness (all three of those are counted in a pack right? the pack of “socially inept” people)

31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: daydream warriors... by aquors..... (listen im RECONNECTING with my weeb side like said above im actually weeping)

32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: uh idk mate

33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: i havent brushed my teeth yet but im lazy to move my legs lmao

LOST QUESTIONS

34. MOLE(S): um quite a lot like a few small ones on my arm and like one on my face below my right eye and theres one underneath my boob i think lmao tmi and the rest i cant be bothered to find

35. MARK(S): a kind of burnt scar mark on my left shoulder from like 6/7 years ago when i got too close to someone smoking and their cigarette burnt me oh and a scar on my knee from the time i fell off my bike while playing bike catching in the neighbourhood with a couple of other friends like 4 years ago?

36. CHILDHOOD DREAM: vet (now im eh about that tho im probably just going to pursue some art career)

37. HAIR COLOR: brown eyy

38. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: long

39. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: yeah. hopefully its dying down now especially since the person is straight (its hard when she sits next to you in class and you guys are sort of friends now and u somehow feel really satisfied when you make her laugh :,) shit )

40. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: im generally kind with people regardless of whether or not i dont like them or i dont know them well or i know them i guess? (at least in my group of friends im probably the most willing to socialise with others) and uhhhh i guess i can make people laugh? im a huge fucking loser meme nyall

41. PIERCINGS: none and personally dont really want to

42. BLOODTYPE: shit i think it was either a B or an O i cant remember (i think its B tho)

43. NICKNAME(S): maggie, migi, bela, bob, bobbo

44. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single pringle

45. ZODIAC: virgo

46. PRONOUNS: she/her (lmao yay for repeated question)

47. FAVORITE TV SHOW: fuckngin,,, voltron,,, (probably going to stay my favourite for a long while tho)

48. TATTOOS: none atm (unless you count waterbase tattos then yes stick all the water based tattos on me) but like when im Much Older maybe? just a really small tattoo tho not anything big that covers an entire limb

49. RIGHT OR LEFT HAND: right

50. SURGERY: had a surgery on my foot forgot which side when i was in kindergarten because the skin was *censored for tmi* and yah stitching up your skin fucking hurt babes

51. HAIR DYED A DIFFERENT COLOR: nahhh i dont think id dye my hair tho who knows

52. SPORT: im probably going to retake up basketball again eyes emoji eyes emoji

53. VACATION: ooMMF nothing planned so far

54. PAIR OF TRAINERS: like uhhh what kind of sneakers?? just normal canvas sneakers i guess????? im, what.

MORE GENERAL

55. EATING: OXYGEn

56. DRINKING: IN OXYGEN

57. I’M ABOUT TO: complete this fucking 88 questions then chat on discord and scroll tumblr and tell myself “hey finish up your art!” but then 5 hours later im still scrolling tumblr. oh and im watching wonder woman later so :3c

58. WAITING FOR: nothing atm i guess?

59. WANT: my family’s financial situation to be solved and so that money isnt going to be a huge bother anymore...

60. GET MARRIED: sounds nice but probably only marriage idk the idea of kids doesnt really sound v appealing atm

61. CAREER: artist! (i wanna either work in a game development team or an animation studio eyes emoji )

62. HUGS OR KISSES: HUGS

63. LIPS OR EYES: lips erally nice to draw really nice to look at

64. SHORTER OR TALLER: buhhh im short so i guess taller would be nice (tall people have such nice legs too im frankly a little jealous)

65. OLDER OR YOUNGER: what is this in regards to

66. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: arms so that dO YOU SEE THESE GUNS

67. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: shrug emoji idk man

68. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: relationship

69. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: troublemaker pardnyars in crime amirite

HAVE YOUR EVER:

70. KISSED A STRANGER: no

71. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: nope

72. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: yeah p sure i had to go through a whole day of school half blind once without my glasses

73. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: nah..

74. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: nO IM 1 3

75. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: dont think so?

76. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: nah babes

77. BEEN ARRESTED: nah

78. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: somehow when someone dies i decide to laugh instead of breaking down in tears i guess laugh away the pain?

79. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: ...shit its a bad idea babes dont do it

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

80. YOURSELF: shrug emoji

81. MIRACLES: sometimes? sometimes no?

82. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: even bigger shrug emoji

83. SANTA CLAUS: nah lmao listen i caught my father and mother wheeling in bicycles for my sister and i when i was like what 8? usually i just played along because hey i was a child

84. KISS ON THE FIRST DATE: ehh depends i guess

85. ANGELS: not really lmao

OTHER

86. CURRENT BEST FRIENDS NAME(S): Emily, Mae Shuen and Lily

87. EYECOLOR: dark brown?

88. FAVORITE MOVIE: this changes all the time

only tagging uhhh @pluminkdot (KASJD I FORGOT IF YOU HAD A MAIN REBLOG ACC IM SORRY RACH), @jaspereffect , @blabrabs / @spaceboomerang (it isnt letting me tag ur main boomers skldfjksd) and uh im too lazy for the rest

#raedy to talk shit #mattie #mothable #w e eps #this took fucking forever babes #LONG POST

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 7 years

Text

Mission

A Continuation from my Previous story ‘Mary the Talon’, hopefully this’ll eventually grow into a bit of miniseries in which will be posted here on Tumblr for all to enjoy.

The Jump City PD Copter was just finishing its twelfth out of fifth teen passes over the city skyline, in hopes of spotting anything suspicious, about Teen Titans level of suspicious. One of the pilots on board, Joe really wish for these passes to be done with by now in all honesty, his little boy was just needing a nice goodnight smooch on his head before tomorrow’s mornings First day of school. His co pilot looked over shoulder, feeling a bit of sympathy for his friend, but as he reached for his Joe’s shoulders, some…thing passed them in a quick flash, and he spots it as fast.

“Did you see that?”

About hundreds of feet below, in one of Jump’s ever not-so-crowded parking lots, business was going down. Inside a fair sized hideout, a group of at least seventeen men,, each wearing their own tacky suits and wielding some sort of firearm and/or knife that obviously belonged to Prohibition era crime as opposed to the “Hipster junk” younger criminal types like to use. About twelve of these gangsters stood guard around the remaining five, as said five engage in a mostly friendly game of poker. Well actually four of them as the final one, and the actual leader of this merry band, counted their profits from today’s little “junk profiteering”. The air around stank with cigar smoke as many cards were shuffled and decked out amongst the so called gentlemen as their alcohol intoxicated eyesight made for easy yet irrational guesses on which card was which, betting away money that could’ve wounded up on charity blocks and banks down below instead of this greasy, dark rat hole of place in which only had one big light on, A light in which that mysterious flying…something took note when planning the first strike against the targets.

The order from the Masters was simple: Amongst this “gang” was a man linked to former Gotham Mobster Anthony Zucco, Charles ‘Chucky’ Sol. The Masters were apparently in agreement with one of their precious Talons that Zucco’s actions have brought them great harm in their plans for controlling Gotham’s underground in light of Carmine Falcone’s downfall. Since the pathetic leech Zucco was dealt with about seven years ago on the electric chair, all that was left now was the scum who’ve worked under name. The good Sol, who served as Zucco’s accountant, was among them. It just so happens in fact Sol and a small amount of the men who worked for Zucco were establishing a network of trade, both legal and not, within Jump City rather secretly in light of these so called “super villains” on the prowl. There goes that name once more ‘Zucco’, and with it these…visions…with words mutter including “racket”, “my brothers”, and “accidents”. But the Talon had no such time to ponder this nonsense, these vermin must receive their sentences and so with quick through to the light via a knife, the mission begins.

In almost immediate reaction to the light’s literally going out, the gangster whip out their firearms, most commonly six-bullet revolvers but with three wielding Thompsons. Soon a thud was on the poker table, the guns turn to the figure, cloaked in complete blackness along with everything else so they couldn’t decipher it. However, as one of the crooks close to Sol notes the two yellowish white eyes and the cape like feeling right behind it not to mention the short height, he immediately screams in near horror, “ITS BOY BLUNDER, GET ‘IM!”

So now with their fingers all squeezing their triggers simultaneously, “Boy Blunder” flips with a quick but far reaching back flip, while reaching out for one of the knives strapped to his chest, throwing two of them into the brain pans of two crooks with Thompsons while using a third one to immediate slash away the pistol wieldier to the right side of Sol. In pitch blackness, Sol couldn’t see anyways of those actions or the stabbing/slashing of the knives in use or the blood squirting onto his favorite Deluxe. In all fairness though, he didn’t need to, the sounds of men crying out in absolute pain and the smell of iron at his feet was proof enough that either someone was doing VERY impressive magic show with his men as unknowing participants or the most likely case; Boy blunder here has apparently cracked and start turn his little day off from working into a literal blood bath. Whatever the case, he isn’t sticking around to see what’ll happen next, he’s out of here. As Sol rushes for the nearest he remembers, muzzle flashes from his men’s guns light up squirts and spills of blood flying, coming either his men’s throats or their chests, most likely their heart spots. Oh yeah, he was defiantly out of here.

The much more lighted up hallways leading to this stinking buildings parking lot were what he needed to make his quick getaway from whatever was doing the crap behind him. Well, quick getaway would’ve been right had it not been for one daunting fact that immediate froze the good Mr. Charles Sol in his tracks: the one behind that crap was standing in front of him in puff of smoke. Believe or not though, it wasn’t that Boy Blunder Robin or any of his precious “Titan” chumps.

The figure was dressed in mostly very dark brown and black suit that looked something of a 1800s fashion pageant, a fashion pageant that happen to be bird themed or something as the mask to two glowing eyes shone from was shaped like an owl, a forest owl if he isn’t mistaken.

“W-wait a minute, you ain’t boy blunder”, stutters Sol as he puts all the information just said into words.

The Owl speaks, with a grave, cold yet strangely feminine voice, “Charles Sol, The Court has made their verdict.”

Court? What Verdict? What the fudge was this baloney coming from? But Sol immediately ditched those questions in mind as he whips out his revolver to blow away this lady. Or at least, he would’ve had not been for the almost instant swipe of this thing’s mini swords slicing through his gun, the force of said swing throwing him to the ground, forcing him to crawl on his hands and butt.

“What are you? The hell you want from me?!” yelled Sol as he crawled away in absolute fear from this chick as she pointed her sword to his nose.

“They have sentenced you to death, ‘Chucky Boy’”, came the almost monotone response from the owl lady as she prepared to swing her final strike, a strike that could’ve came had it not came to sound of a motorbike parking down below them. It wasn’t just any motorbike though, unbeknownst to them, it was the R-Cycle with Robin the Boy Wonder unloading from it to investigate a building with small flashes showing through it windows. For this owl like woman, time was of the essence, she needs Sol’s blood now. Thankfully, ‘Chucky Boy’ hadn’t gone too far in his sneak off as he was right now trying to start his rusty old Ford. Too bad so sad for him however, the engines die out at the absolute worst moment for owl chick was about three steps close to him. So grabbing his double barrel shotgun for the backseat, Sol opens the door, placing two buck shots into the lady’s chest hoping that’s the end of it. Unfortunately its seems good old Karma has gone cold for the owl lady begins to stand up, the black fluid leaking from where her heart’s blood was supposed to be and the buck shot holes closing up.

“Impress me”, said the owl lady as she drew out her sword from the ground but not before taking the last two knives from her shoulder belt and using them as nails through Sol’s hands, pinning him to the wall and raising her blade next to his throat. With a last spit to her goggled left eye, Sol sneers “I did, you bi...” Charles Sol never finished his sentence for a quick beheading was done. With that the mission was done. Mary Elizabeth Llodveski/Lloyd Grayson’s mission for her masters, the Court of Owls, was accomplished for tonight.

Epilogue:

As Robin reach for the parkway, he saw what remained of gangster Chucky Sol, head with a facial of horror on the ground while the rest of the body was pinned to the wall with two knives, one per hand, holding it in place. The crucifix pose the body was left can open up a whole entire drawer’s worth of potential criminal types that uses Christian based imagery like this. Those thoughts were put on hold however with closer examination of the knives in use. They were imprinted with an owl emblem at their hilts and some sort of black liquid dripping off, this is the clue he’ll need for Cyborg to scan it for potential suspects.

As he was getting ready to leave however, looking up towards the opposite door, Robin notices something… no, someone at the doorway.

“FREEZE” Robin yells as he rushes to the door to reach the one who might responsible. But he by the time he reached the door, he was too late; the person had disappeared with only a small puff of smoke in its place.

Robin couldn’t help but glare his mask a bit; it was going to be one of those cases again wasn’t it? When will he ever unmask both Red X and Slade before this gets out of hand? Honestly!

So there it is folks, Part of my “Mary Grayson as a Talon” AU please feel free to reblog or leave comments. I really appreciate it.

#mary grayson #court of owls #fanfic #my posts

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leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid · 8 years

Text

That’s Not Fine

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Charlie Bradbury, and ofc Seraphina

Word Count: 3228

Warnings: Symptoms of Bipolar 2 disorder, depression, hypomania, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, negative self image and thoughts. If any of this is triggering or possibly triggering Please Do Not Read!!!!

Author’s Note: Written for the Mental Health Awareness Challenge hosted by @letsgetoutalive. This is an AU where Dean is not a hunter but he is the reader’s husband. The reader has Bipolar 2 disorder and she is me. This story is based on true events that happened over the summer between myself and several others. They know who they are and I hope this gives them a little peak at what was going on in my head at the time. I can never apologize enough and to some I can’t apologize at all for the things I did while having an episode, and its completely inexcusable. Things are different now and if you feel like things are getting out of control or those around you keep saying, get help, please seek treatment. No one deserves to deal with a disorder like this without help. It’s awful for everyone involved. My birthday gift to myself today is truth, to lay myself out for you all to see. My name is Sundae, I’m bipolar, and this is my story. Italics are inner thoughts, Bold italics are IM messages.

There it was again, that thought, the nagging, constient voice whispering in your ear. ‘They hate you. You pissed them off. They just put up with you and your crap because they feel bad for you. You have to make it up to them, fix it. Fix it. Fix it!’ That little voice was back and it was getting louder and louder everyday.

“Hey babe, you okay?” you husband Dean sat down next to you on the bed, wonder in his beautiful green eyes.

You looked up from your laptop screen, putting a fake half smile on your face as you nodded. “Yep, all good. Was just messaging Charlie back.”

“Oh, tell her I said hi and I’m gonna get dinner going. Thought I’d let you know since I know you are trying to write in here.”

“Yeah, not much writing going on today but alright. Let me know when it’s ready. Love you.”

Dean leaned closer, “Love you too.” his pink plush lips brush over yours before he jumps up and walks out of the room.

Your eyes went back to your screen, the message to Charlie still sitting unsent in the IM window. ‘It’s just I feel like I’m bothering you all the time and I don’t want to do that. I never want to do that to you because I love you. You are one of my best friends and if I’m too much to handle you are welcome to drop me out of your life.’ You reread that message three times before letting your fingers fly over the keys again. ‘I completely understand and I encourage you to distance yourself from me. It would be a lot better if you did.’ Sent.

There it was finally, in black and white, and you hoped when Charlie read the message she would see it was for the best for her to walk away from her friendship with you. You’d always told her that you were trouble. That being friends meant that she would be dealing with a crazy person and she had laughed it off thinking it was just a joke. It wasn’t and now you waited for when she’d read the message and get back to you.

Clicking over into another tab sat the unfinished story you had been working on. A challenge a friend had given you that when you said you’d do it had inspired so many things. A rockstar falling in love and getting addicted to heroin, using with her bass player/boyfriend, the highs and lows of stardom making them chase that high higher and higher until they couldn’t chase it anymore. You’d planned it out, knew what was going to happen, but here you sat staring at just the first few paragraphs, all energy to write it gone.

“Come on Y/N, you can write this.” you whispered to yourself. You’d been writing for years, the last year of which had been your most productive, writing and releasing stories onto your blog multiple times a week. Most of your nights spent wide awake, fingers flying over the keys to bring to life new pieces of storytelling and filth for the masses to read along with you. You knew you could do this, you’d finished every single challenge you’d been given so far, and you were not about to let this one be a failure.

Rereading what you’d written though sparked no inspiration and when you clicked back into the tab for Tumblr you saw a message from Charlie.

‘I’m not going to do that and you aren’t bothering me. I don’t understand why you feel like that but we’ve been over this again and again. Please, Y/N, let this go and move on.’

She was mad at you. Clearly she was mad and you felt tears starting to burn behind your eyes. You’d done it again, made a friend mad when you were just trying to fix it. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just how I was feeling is all.’

‘You have no reason to feel that way.’

Charlie’s response didn’t make sense to you and you reread it half a dozen times before replying again. You did have reason to feel that way because she’d been distant and you knew you’d been bothering her because she’d told you earlier in the week she’d been busy with work. You needed to make her see that you were no good for her and you were a cancer in her life that needed to be eliminated.

‘But I do and I’m just sorry.’

There was no reply after that and you knew your friendship was over. Fat, hot tears ran down your cheeks as you sat in bed waiting for a reply that never came. Dean hollered from the kitchen that dinner was ready and you wiped at your face till you were sure he couldn’t tell you’d been crying.

The smell of steak filling your senses as you wandered slowly into the kitchen. “Smells great babe.”

Dean turned around, a smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Thanks, did you need more time to write after dinner?” He asked as he started to portion out the plates.

“No, wasn’t getting much done anyway.” You were a failure and all you could do was stuff your face and hope Dean didn’t decide this was when he wanted to walk away from a fat ass like you.

Together you ate while he talked about different parts of his day at the shop he co-owned with his dad and you tried to pay attention as you kept rerunning the chat you’d had with Charlie. There had to be a way to fix it, you’d messed it up so badly.

Dean continued to talk until you had finished dinner, not once did he ask how your day had been, and as you walked to the bedroom together to watch tv your heart sank. ‘He doesn’t even care how your day was. He knows it was boring. He probably hates you like Charlie does and like Ellen does, and Jo.’ You knew everyone hated you and you deserved for them to hate you.

The next couple hours were spent watching a movie on Netflix and when Dean fell asleep without kissing you goodnight you’d turned off the tv as well as your bedside lamp, and turned away from him. You reached for your phone, the Tumblr app opening, and showing a new message from someone and you were filled with dread at who it might be.

‘Please, Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine between us. You are my friend and I love you but you need help. Something is wrong and I can’t help you.’

Charlie’s words cut like a knife through your heart and you let silent sobs wrack your body. Something was wrong, very wrong, and every time you saw a doctor they always told you the same thing. It’s just a little depression and a few months with medication should make you feel better. And the doctor was right, it did, for awhile.

That’s when you would feel normal, you’d finally sleep and eat like everyone else, you’d spend time with Dean doing things you loved and your brain didn’t feel like it was running a marathon. The meds worked, they did but then everything would start to slip. You’d take your meds but then you’d start feeling that urge to stay awake. To write one more story, ideas flying out of your head so fast you could hardly keep up. The phrases, “did you sleep? When did you come to bed? Have you eaten today?” all became regular parts of your husband’s vocabulary.

You’d shrug him off, you were fine, and super productive. You had stories ready for when you had writers block and your follower count was up since you’d been posting so much new content. Things were fine, he just couldn’t see it. You didn’t need to sleep to be amazing or put out amazing content, this was how you were and you loved it.

But you knew, every single time, and you dreaded what you knew was coming. What you were going through right now, this low, the darkness slowly closing in around you. Every thought in your head telling you that you were a bad person and deserved to be told so by everyone. You didn’t deserve to be happy, you deserved to feel this way, and to watch your friends walk away from a crazy person like you.

You clicked over to your dash, scrolling through posts and finding nothing to occupy your mind. All that kept going around and around in your head was Charlie’s words, your brain highlighting certain parts and leaving others behind. ‘Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine. You need help and I can’t help you.’ Over and over again your brain kept repeating it until finally you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Instead of bothering anyone you opened a text post, sticking a little asterisk in where you’d put your usual text and start venting in the tags.

Writing all that out did nothing to make you feel better and you continued to cry until you fell asleep. When you awoke the next morning, Dean was already gone, and you grabbed your phone to check for notifications and messages. A text from Dean told you he loved you and he’d be late getting home. Paperwork for the expansion was finally in and he’d need to work on it with his dad after hours.

Next was Tumblr and as usual you didn’t have any messages. The notifications were from people reblogging mostly your reblogs and a few likes on an old story back when you were actually able to write. With nothing worth looking at there any longer, you opened your dash and started scrolling. Just a few posts down was one by Charlie and she was obviously not happy.

Charlie’s post ate at you, reading it and the tags over and over again. You knew it had been wrong to put her in the tags, knew that online etiquette says don’t out anyone or say anything except positive things about others but you had to get it out. Your brain wouldn’t stop, the voice repeating itself over and over again until you posted it.

You pushed the reblog button, your fingers poised over the keys trying to think of what to say but all you could think was that she was right. You were sick and manipulating people into feeling bad for you. There was no reason for anyone to feel sorry for you because you were acting like a child, boohooing on the internet when you should just keep it to yourself.

Closing the reblog you starting planning instead. The world didn’t need you in it, messing everything up for everyone. Bothering them with your nonsense and dragging them down when they were all so happy. Dean would be home late and you knew that would give you the time that you needed to do this right.

Walking into your bathroom you took stock of what you had on hand in the cabinet. Muscle relaxers from when Dean hurt his back a few weeks before, the sleeping pills your doctor gave you for when you told him you had trouble sleeping, and your Prozac that was half full of capsules. You weren’t sure if it would be enough but you figured if you ground everything down they might at least work faster. Dean would probably get home too late to help you and it would all just end.

With a plan forming in your mind you heard a ding from your phone of a message. Opening it you saw it was from Seraphine, a friend you had made online and you sighed wondering what she wanted.

‘Hey sweetie just wanted to check in on you. I saw your post from last night and if you need to talk I’m here for you.’

‘Hey Sera I’m fine just having a moment. Don’t worry about me. I’m good.’

‘You sure?”

You chewed at your lip knowing you were lying but not wanting to worry your friend at all. ‘Yeah I’m fine. Everythings fine.’

‘Doesn’t seem fine. How are things with Dean?”

‘Dean’s good. Working late tonight which is good for me. Lets me get done what I need to do.’

There was a pause between messages and you sat on your bed waiting for her to reply so you could say goodbye and get the mortar and pestle from your kitchen to start getting your pills ready.

‘What is it that you need to do?’

You were getting aggravated, you needed to go so you could do this. You needed to end this conversation and end your sad pathetic existence.

‘Nothing you need to worry about. Just something that needs to be done. I’ve got to go. Bye sweetie.’

‘Wait! Don’t go, Y/N. Please, whatever it is you need to do I want you to know you don’t have to. What time is Dean coming home?’

You looked up at the clock and realized the day had slipped away from you. Hours of time just bleeding into one another without you even noticing, the sky outside your bedroom window already showing an orange and pink glow of the sunset.

‘I don’t know. All his text said was late. It will be fine. I gotta go, Sera.’

‘You don’t have to go. Stay and talk to me, Y/N. I’m worried about you.’

You scoffed to yourself and punched in your reply. ‘You don’t have to be worried about me. Nothing to worry about. I need to go, Seraphine. It will all be better once I do.’

‘No, it won’t. Please, don’t go yet ,Y/N.Call Dean and tell him you need him to come home. You shouldn’t be alone right now.’

You shook your head, tears burning and falling quickly down your face. ‘I’m not going to bother him and I’m fine.’

‘You aren’t fine and you need to call him. If you won’t I will. Please, Y/N.’

Your phone slipped from your hand and onto your bed where you left it to swipe at the tears coursing down your face. You were so pathetic, crying like this. You needed to stop and just do what needed to be done. Leaving your phone where it landed you stood up and rounded the side of your bed just as you heard the front door open, Dean rushing in while calling your name.

“Y/N! Hey babe, Charlie called me and said that you needed me to come home right away. Sweetheart, what’s going on?” The love and concern poured off of Dean in waves and you were overcome with despair, shame, and fear. A great heart wrenching sob leaving your body as you launched yourself into his chest, his arms wrapping around you as your body convulsed with cries.

“Whoa sweetheart, what’s going on? Come on, kid. Talk to me.” Dean held you tight to him and you just cried, not a single word could be released with how hard you were sobbing. He moved the two of you till he could sit on the end of the bed, pulling you sideways into his lap, rubbing his hand in circles over your back and telling you how much he loved you. “Talk to me, Y/N. Please tell me what happened?”

Through your tears your drew in a few deep breaths, you lips quivering as you shakingly responded. “I’m scared. I’m so scared and I-I don’t know what to do.” More sobs erupted at your confession and Dean squeezed you in reassurance.

“Charlie said you were planning to kill yourself. Where you? Please tell me she was wrong about that. I can’t lose you. Not like that.” Dean’s voice broke as he spoke, his own grief over his wife being in so much pain spilling ovel.

“I’m so scared because I want to Dean, so bad. I want everything to just stop. Make it stop, Dean. Make it stop.”

Dean pressed his lips to your head before moving his hand to your cheek and bringing your face up to look at him. “Tell me what to do to make it stop and I will. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Right here, right now.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you confessed, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. Maybe we should call your doctor and tell him what’s going on. He should be able to help.” Dean reached for your phone knowing the number to your doctor was inside along with the emergency contact number for moments like this.

“No, Dean. Please, don’t call him. Not right now. I can’t. Please, just hold me. I need you to hold me and make it stop.” you turned yourself in his arms till you could wrap yourself completely around him, sobbing into his shoulder and releasing all the hurt you’d let consume you the last couple of weeks.

He held you to him, reminding you that he was there, and he wasn’t going to leave you. When you finally started to calm he leaned back and looked into your reddened eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to get you help. I love you but you need to talk to your doctor.”

You shook your head in protest. “No, I’ll be fine, Dean. Really it’s fine.”

“Y/N, that’s not fine. The phone call from Charlie telling me my wife was making posts online, talking to people about needing to go do something and everything would be better after. That’s not fine. You are not fine but you can fight this. We can fight this. Please babe, let me help you fight this. Let me call your doctor.” Dean’s olive orbs pleaded with you and you leaned around him to grab your phone.

“Help me?” A shuddered breath fell from your lips and Dean kissed your forehead before nodding.

He scrolled through your contacts and made the call to get you help.

12 weeks later

Bipolar 2, finally your doctor had listened and you had the right diagnoses. It was scary, the scariest thing a doctor had probably ever said to you and Dean stood by you the entire time. Not once thinking to walk away from you or to let you stop fighting. The medication you were on was changed and with it your activities at home. The amount of time you spent online went down considerably and you’d managed to apologize for your behavior towards Charlie at the time.

You’d told Seraphine thank you, having connected the dots that she had been the one to contact Charlie, who in turn called Dean. Together they had all saved you from yourself and now you were on the road to being a healthy version of yourself. No amount of thank yous were enough but you tried at least once a day, to return some of their kindness back into the world. Because being sick isn’t an excuse but it is a reality and with these people on your side as well as proper medical treatment, your reality was looking a whole lot better.

Tagging let me know if you want off the ride: @aprofoundbondwithdean @brooklyn-writes-flangst @duckzorz @gizmospacerocket @kayteonline @jotink78 @manawhaat @maxremixed @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75 @rizlow1 @littlegreenplasticsoldier @harley-kitty-queen @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @lady-of-the-bunker @tardis-is-mine @nichelle-my-belle @superromijn @sis-tafics @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mysupernaturalfics @nerdflash @waywardjoy @superisatomboyuniverse @cici0507 @beatlesobsessionlove @chelsea072498 @loveitsallineed @love-me-some-pie21 @atc74 @for-the-love-of-dean @impala-dreamer @percywinchester27 @i-dont-understand-whats-going-on @bitch-jerk-assbutt-xo @therosecolouredpost @dorky-and-i-know-it @supernatural-jackles @iwantthedean @gemini75seeyore @babypieandwhiskey @milkymilky-cocopuff @mrsbarry-allen-1031 @letsdisneythings @winchesterenthusiast @femmedplume

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