#and as a fat fuck with slightly yellow teeth i was like damn. ok

[sillywormz]

reading a fic or a book that's good but then they describe a character being fat/depict their fatness in a way that's obviously meant to be repulsive to the reader and it's like. my mood is ruined :( oof

[spikesbimbo]

Pretty Please

Req: may i offer the concept of - spike and his babies first time, when he took her v1rginity 🥺 sorta like a prequel type thing to your last spike fic? thank you sm for all your work bb!!

Pairing: Dilf Daddy Spike Spiegel x Reader

Tags: virg1n!reader , hurt/comfort, squirting, oral sex

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i love u anon, tks for making my dreams come true < 3

18+ Minors dni

-

“You okay doll?”

You nodded slightly, somewhat lying as you felt an ache in your core after he pulled you into his lap. Watching tv as his hand rested on your upper thigh, his thick fingers subliminally working there way up, higher and higher.

Adjusting yourself multiple times, feeling his length grow bigger with each movement, embarrassment rising to your face as you rested your head in his shoulder. Your legs still draped over his, calfs resting on the couch. 

He was ignoring the feeling too, not wanting to get his sweet angel worked up and scared of him after unsurprisingly finding out you've never done ‘it’ in your words, the day you two got a little more intimate.

His cock growing harder at the thought of you telling him you’ve never been touched, or even touched yourself before. Internally feeling pain knowing that his baby has never felt a high from cumming, wanting to bring you there.

As your little hands gripped onto the suit that was layed on his chest, your innocent doe eyes looked up at him batting your eyelashes.

Yes you had a crush on him, he was tall, handsome, always took care of you, and he was older. The peek of gray coming through his hair, his big arms lightly wrapped around you, his deep warm voice that soothes you to sleep. It’s safe to say that you were in love with him.

Ever since he snatched you up that day almost a year ago, he’s taken care of you. Wondering why you were different, knowing he usually didn’t favor women, after hearing him and Jet talk about them. And if he did he only kept them around for a night, ‘litteraly’  kicking them out the next morning.

It shouldn’t make you heart flutter as much as it does, knowing you were special. But it was obvious at this point, always holding you hand went you two went out, him saying “it’s because I don’t want you to get lost”, to you asking to sleep with him at night, immediately opening his arms for you to crawl in.

You felt him move you hips, feeling you panties get wetter. Shuffling around trying to get the thoughts out of your head, thinking about how you tried to do what he did last night. 

All alone in the shower as you ran your hands up your body. You fingers lathering soap on yourself as you pinky hit your breast, letting out a moan at the feeling. Thinking about how you were moaning out his name like a mantra as he kissed down your body, paying special attention to every nook and cranny, loving how worked up you got just from putting his lips on your nipples.

Your hands moved to your lower region, stopping at your clit like he did, heat rising as at the thought of him sucking on sucking on it. Sliding his fingers in and out, mumbling “you’re so wet for me baby”

But your fingers weren’t enough, nor could you do it right. Not knowing how to do anything yourself as he always did it for you. Trying to imitate the pattern he was working in, rubbing your fingers in a slight circle, even shoving your finger in only fitting one in, not succeeding in the slightest.

Leading to you crying, sobs muted by the water falling down, wanting to do something by yourself for once. Not wanting to rely on him even though you loved it, loved the feeling of his callused hands on you, but you felt burdensome if anything.

Knowing how he always came home tired and stressed, wanting to take care of him by taking care of yourself. Not realizing that they went hand in hand. Your pretty moans and pretty face twisting and turning were the only thing keeping him going.

He felt your wetness growing on him, leaving a patch behind. Remembering how tight you were even though he ate you out for hours trying to get them to fit in. Wanting to feel your walls around  his cock, not his fingers.

“You sure you ok baby?” He asked waiting for you to nod, to lie to him again. His hand gripping tighter around your thigh, one of his hands moving towards your waist “Cause I don’t think you are.”

“WelI, i was thinking…. about you.” The throbbing between your legs suddenly grows harder to ignore, almost painful. You cross your legs to try to make it go away because it feels weird. 

“Of course, what else would be going through that pretty brain doll?.” His smoky breath meeting yours as he inched closer to your face, knowing where this was going .“what about me, hmm?”

“Um… I-I want to make you feel good, too.” You muttered out, placing your hands on his neck as you turned his head towards yours, gleaming hopefully eyes hoping he would feel appreciated.

“Teach me how to touch you.”  You pouted, placing your palms on his crotch, fingers gently grabbing it through his pants. ��wanna to make you feel good too.”  The throbbing in your core growing harder to ignore, faintly hurting as his knee was bouncing you on him. Trying to close your legs to try distract yourself, but your legs were locked with his, not letting you go in the slightest.

“You wet?” He groaned feeling your soaked panties bleed through his pants. His hand moving towards his cock, grabbing it to calm him down and he couldn't keep his eyes off you know. You don’t answer as you feel his gaze upon you, your confidence fading quickly as you decide to show him want you want though actions, placing your hands on his growing erection along with his. “Fuck, I--”

You look so endearing clinging onto him, batting your lashes as you wait for him to tell you what to do, just wanting to be his good girl. “You wanna make me feel good, make me happy?” He repeated, running his hands up to your lower back after stopping at your ass. 

“God angel, you’re driving me crazy” he said pulling you face to face with him now, straddling his big thighs as you couldn’t help but grind on them. Just being with him made you feel so much better.

“I was thinking bout... how good you treat me, I wanna do the same to you. I feel like I can't do anything...” His hand raises your sinking face, forcing your teary eyes to meet his soft gaze as you echoed. “I wanna treat you good, make you feel good too.” 

“You even know how?” He says waiting for you to shake your head no. 

“You gotta teach me”

“Fuck-. Alright baby c'mere.” he said standing up, holding your tiny hand in his as you followed him into the bedroom, the red and yellow tinted artificial lighting being much more soothing than out there.

You were on your knees, ignoring how the carpet burned against them as you saw his cock up close for the first time. The last time you saw it was when he ‘taught’ you how to touch yourself, being in awe that it was that big, now in your head thinking that every man was as big as him.

He went along with it after you said you couldn't do it alone because you only got off to him. He ignored the fact that it made his heart race in a way it's never before, cumming the fastest he's ever done since he was a teen, thanking god you were inexperienced.  

He grabbed your jaw gently, cheeks squished in-between his hand as tried his hardest to not just fuck your sweet little face. “Like this baby.” he said, after his thumb opened your mouth, bringing your lips to his tip. Catching on and kissing it, using your tongue like you he told you. Only staying at the head , too scared to take anymore, 

“God damn..”  he groaned, his hand being wrapped around the back of your neck. Slightly pushing your head down to which you gag, immediately pulling back, the string of drool still connecting you two. “You gonna be my good girl?” 

He took a hold of his cock, stroking it a few times before putting its attention back on you. “Open up” he said as you did what you were told as he slapped his fat cock onto your tongue hanging out of your mouth, precum and spit dripping off onto your chest. 

“You gotta use your hands, kiss and lick it.”

“okay” you muttered out, already doing it. Kissing open mouthed on the sides, stroking the vein under it while making it as sloppy as could be. Tongue flicking back and forth on the slit at the top, his moans acting as a guide, letting you know what he really liked.

You seal your mouth around his head again, barely fitting it in your mouth gazing up at Spike, seeing his face flustered as yours. He looks pleased, letting out a small grunt. "Pretty girl," he husks, fingers stroking your jaw. You thriving at the attention and praise, loving the way his voice was when he talked to you, just you.

"Keep sucking on it, and don’t use your teeth sweetheart.” he encouraged, wondering why this was a natural talent for you. You eventually closed your eyes after they were watering too much and sucked. It didn't feel as good as you thought it would, but the thought of making him cum gets you antsy, doing your best to accomplish your mission.

 He gives another low moan, while you do the same in response. Loving the idea that you're getting him off instead of himself. His cock barely halfway in while our too lost in thought sucking him dry when you suddenly smell the comforting scent of smoke flowing through the air, relaxing your throat more.

You're drawn off of his cock, held gently by the throat, need racing through your head, chills running down your back. A moan leaves your mouth as his jaw quivers, your breath gasping . His knees shift into a better position, guiding you back to his length. "Fuck. you like it now, don't you baby?" he puffed out, his eyes as hazy as yours. "Taking my cock so well, baby. Swallow like a good girl, okay?”

He slapped it against your cheek again, your drool flicked there along with your lips. You nodded as you took him in between your lips again, pushing teasingly. He takes it into his own hands and starts fucking your mouth. Not letting you catch a break, chasing his high. Snapping his hips in quickly, gagging through it, tears falling onto your cheeks from the pressure. 

Spit drooling down your chin, while his fingers dig into the back of your head, knees burning from rubbing against the carpet. You gag for the nth time, shoulders meeting his knees, as you feel hot ropes come down your throat, his curses becoming white noise at this point.

You turned your head down as you coughed up his cum, leaving your mouth falling onto your chest knees as he sputtered.  Feeling tears build up in your eyes, scared that hed get mad at you, take back what he said about you being a good girl, his good girl.

“m-m’sorry” you sniffled, feeling the tears fall down you face yet again, but this time from pain, not pleasure.

He crouched in front of you, wiping the remaining with his thumb before connecting his lips to yours. You sucked on his tongue, his cum being swapped between you two as you looked at him with your red glossy eyes. Your way of saying sorry. “It’s okay, Baby, it was your first time, you did so good, okay? Made me cum and everything.” he said kissing you again as you squirmed in his touch.

He stood up, grabbing you in his arms too. Your legs numb and bruised, but you settled yourself on the bed, him following,  towering over you. “You like thinking about me between your legs, like hearing what  m’gonna do to you ?”

You slide deeper under him, holding the pillow up hiding your face as you quietly admit it by letting out a soft “yeah”. Feeling helpless that he's the only one who gets you like this, is that what this feeling is, pleasure? 

You nodded and he moved his dirty hands, wondering all over your soft and pure body as he slowly undressed you completely. Wanting to take in your beauty just for himself, wanting to capture the moment he defiled you, replaying it over and over again in his head forever. Wanting to capture your sweet moans in his mouth as he kissed the pain away, cooing at you with his deep voice for taking a cock too big for your tiny little virgin cunt.

His cock already throbbing again at the thought, lining himself up with you. “Don’t worry, pretty girl” he cooed. “I’m gonna take care of you. M’gonna fuck you so good, angel. Gonna make you cum over and over. Gonna stuff you full just like you want.”

The reassurance comforted you more than it should have, him being the only thing you'd ever had, in a sense. Yes you two might have had sex, but that didn’t mean you two werent friends, event though you wanted to be more. 

 Wanted to wake up in the morning in his arms, giving him a good morning kiss before he left everyday. But all you did right now was wait; wait for him to get home with jet, and the dog. While you took care of him in the ways you could, but that's how friends acted right? Being on good terms and trusting each other, right?

“It feel good? Doesn't hurt?” he asked as you quickly nodded, wanting him to make you feel good. He dragged his lips to your neck, sucking on the skin, littering every inch with the numbing pain, tracing his open mouthed kisses down to your chest. His spit cooling the heat rising in your body. “Fuck,” he breathed bottoming out. “You’re so tight for me, baby. You like it? Like the way my big cock is stretching you out?

You nod gasps being held back, not being able to catch your breath. The ache between your legs beginning to ease. Grabbing his neck with your trembling hands, getting him to look down at you.. “faster….please” You whispered out, just loud enough for him to hear and it’s all it takes for him to connect his hips to yours. Your lips letting out soft, honeyed moans that already have his balls swelling again. 

The pain disappeared as his thrusts became more stable, having a rhythm. Your eyes gazing up at his filled out body, so strong. You were swooning at the man balls deep in you, loving everything about him from his graying hair and downturned eyes, to his smile.

“Wh-… what do I do, w-wanna be good.” you choked out, heavy breaths catching the remains of earlier in your throat. “Shh… lemme do the work, okay?  Your little holes clenching so wet and sloppy for me, so tight. Feels so good, baby.”

His hands hook under your thighs, locking you in place as he continues fucking you, getting rougher and rougher with your physical permission. Your back arches as he angles his hips different, his cock hitting you in a new way, his fast thrusts sending you into overdrive. Cum squirting from you, making the mess under you even bigger while he's groaning out at the picture before him. “Fuck baby, that was so hot, good fuckin girl.”

That was all it took for him to release, you precious little body being so lewd beneath him, fuck. Vision turning from black to white as he felt you push yourself into him more. Helping you, still temporary blind, eyes closed as he pulled your thighs closer to himself.

You whimpered in pleasure as you felt the hot liquid filling you up, the warm feeling in your tummy making your head spin. It had your brain turning to mush, the submissive part activating as you spread yourself even more, wanting to show off the filthy part of you.

“Did it feel good?”

God really blessed him with an angel. So pretty, dirty, so willing to please. The fact that he's the only one who has ever seen you like this is getting to his head, making sure it'll stay that way, as he flipped you over leaning your head against his chest. 

“You took me so well, sweetheart, so proud of you for taking me..”

You were so tired, jaw aching while keening at the praise. His hands resting on your bare body made all the tension ease, the feeling of him still in you making you get too attached to him.

He laid still, taking in your state as he felt you turn your head to look at him, while he was already admiring you. Flashing you his smile that you loved so much. He curled up with you with his warm body holding your cold one, easing you to sleep with a faint smile on your face. You finally did something on your own.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Time: Chapter 9

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, unsafe vehicular etiquette (wear your fucking seat belt) Word Count: ~5,444 (Jeez, really? It didn’t feel that long while I was editing it) A/N: I took forever to get chapter 8 out so I’m trying to make it up to you by getting this one out asap. Enjoy, guys. It’s Steve shipping time! And, uh, sorry for this one. It’s a doozy.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You pushed all of your thoughts about Bucky and Steve to the back of your mind. This would take all of your attention. Airports were tricky when you spoke the language everything was in, but this would be an adventure.

“New York, here I come.”

Dean, bless his heart, had come to pick you up from the airport. He chatted happily the entire way back to the cafe, voice filling the space of his messy SUV. Under his care the cafe was thriving. It was doing just as well if not better than it had while you ran it. He sobered a bit when he talked about the recent events surrounding the Sokovia Accords. Your attention snapped to him when he said there had been reports that the Avengers were duking it out in a southern German airport.

“Wait, didn’t you fly in from there?” he asked, turning to look at you while you were stopped at a red light.

“I flew in from the larger one in west Berlin,” you said.

“Oh, damn. It would have been awesome to see the Avengers fight firsthand. I hope they capture that Barnes dude. I don’t know why Cap is helping him. He’s a monster,” Dean said flippantly.

You grit your teeth. You knew Dean didn’t know any better. “Maybe he has a good reason. I trust Captain America,” you said stiffly.

He gave you a confused look out of the corner of his eye. Although he didn’t know exactly why, he knew you well enough to know he’d pissed you off somehow.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said amicably. You relaxed a little bit. Dean was a good kid. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Any more news about the Avengers? Recent news, that is,” you asked.

“Nothing solid, but they’re speculating that The Winter Soldier and Captain America escaped,” he informed you. “And it seems like the rest of the people that helped them are going to be locked up somewhere top secret.”

“People helped them?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, there was some leaked footage. Let’s see. There was Wanda Maximoff, the magic-y chick that blew up a building a week ago... the Falcon - no shocker there, him and Cap are best friends-... and some dude in a red suit that could get huge and could also disappear. No one knows who he is-,” he said, ticking them off on his hand as he spoke. “Oh, and the archer dude. Hawkeye,” he said, holding up a fourth finger.

“Shit.” Steve is gonna beat himself up over that one, guaranteed.

“Yeah, it’s crazy. They must trust Cap a lot to defend that Barnes dude like that,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

He pulled into the garage that was a block away from the cafe (and your apartment, which was above it). It was easier to park here than look for it on the street. Dean was one of the few people crazy enough to drive in New York. He usually took the subway, but drove occasionally, and you were grateful that he did.

“You’re 22 now, right?” you asked as you exited the car. You went to pull your duffel off of the back seat, but Dean had reached it before you, hauling it out and slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” you said, and he nodded at you, smiling.

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“Pizza and a six pack enough of a payback for picking me up?” you asked, grinning.

He chuckled as you walked towards the garage exit. The lights flickered, casting odd shadows on the grimy cement walls around you. You hated this garage.You swore you’d get stabbed in here one day. You didn’t want today to be that day, so you walked a little more quickly to the elevators.

“Yeah, that’s more than enough,” he said as he pressed the button to call the elevator. “Everyone’s really excited to see you, you know,” he said, smiling at you as you both stepped into the elevator.

“I’m excited to see them, too. I’m actually a little surprised everyone’s still there. I would have thought they’d be upset I made a nineteen year old look after the shop,” you said, grimacing slightly.

“A couple of them were pretty upset at first, but they saw how long you’d taken to train me. After I took over and they realized I could run the cafe they backed off. Whenever there’s a hiccup some are still quick to blame me, but the rest are pretty level-headed about it,” he said as the elevator climbed floors. It reached street level and you both walked out.

“Well, that’s good. I chose you for a reason,” you said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled and blushed a little at that. You paused. “Hey, listen. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying. Don’t think you’re done watching over my cafe yet,” you said, a hint of teasing entering your voice as you said the last part.

“Can you really call it your cafe if you haven’t been running it for the last two years?” he asked, equally teasing.

“Whose name is on all of the paperwork?” you asked crossing your arms as you leveled a steely glare at him.

“Yours, but only because they wouldn’t let you sign everything over to a twenty year old,” he said, crossing his arms right back at you.

“Shit, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that,” you said, uncrossing your arms and slumping slightly.

He laughed at your expense for a minute then sobered. “What’s this about leaving again?” he asked, glancing at you as you turned the corner onto the street the cafe was on.

“Well I’m going to be visiting Brooklyn for the next few days. I don’t entirely know what’ll happen,” you said, wishing you could explain more.

“Uh huh... and can you explain why you’re going to be in Brooklyn?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Uh... I’m hoping to see an old friend there?” you said, hoping he wouldn’t question you further.

He gave you a long stare, silently judging you. “Whatever you say, (Y/N),” he said finally.

Finally, you arrived in front of your store. “Oh, beautiful! How I’ve missed you!” you exclaimed, wrenching open the door to the cafe.

You were immediately bombarded by aproned baristas. You tried to shush them as a few customers shot you dirty looks over their laptop; You’d obviously interrupted some very important screenplay or fanfiction writing.

The girls dragged you to the back of the shop, asking you all kinds of questions about Romania and your flight back, which you happily answered.

“Tadah!” Taliyah said, revealing a beautifully decorated cake with “welcome back” written on it in light blue frosting.

“It’s yellow cake with chocolate frosting, your favorite!” Katelyn helpfully chimed in.

“Not even five minutes back and you’re already trying to get me fat again?” you quipped, grinning at both at them.

“Well if you don’t eat it, I will,” Dean said from behind you.

“Shit, Dean. I totally forgot. Here, lemme take that,” you said, reaching out for your bag. He deftly dodged you and moved to the stairs at the back of the room that led up to the apartment immediately above it. The door to the apartments floors three and above were next to the shop’s entrance, but you were lucky enough to have an entrance to yours linked directly to your shop.

“It’s not a problem. You catch up with Kate and Tali,” he said, throwing you a smile as he went to go throw your stuff upstairs.

“Tell us all about Romania,” Kate said, grabbing a knife from the kitchen area to cut the cake with.

Over the next twenty minutes you talked about your time with your aunt and uncle. Dean joined you back downstairs a few minutes into your stories. You talked about how you worked a merchant stall in an idyllic, quaint old part of Bucharest and how you helped your aunt start up a business. Tali and Kate took turns popping in and out of the cafe to take care of customers and all four of you munched happily on welcome back cake.

“Ok, but you had to have found someone you liked there,” Tali said, grinning eagerly from her spot on a bar stool that she’d parked next to the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Yeah, come on. There had to be a cute guy... or girl?” she asked waggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

You laughed at the ridiculous face she was making. You wanted to tell them about Bucky so badly, but you couldn’t. Maybe you could tell them about Grant, though? No, it was too risky. “No, no. There was no one, male or otherwise,” you said, smirking at their crestfallen expressions. “I have to get going. It’s been at least two days since I showered,” you said. You sniffed yourself experimentally and wrinkled your nose. Yeah, you were definitely rank. You let out an exaggerated gag for their benefit which made them laugh. They gave you another hug (brave souls) and told you once again how much they missed you.

You trudged up the stairs to your apartment, old stairs creaking under your weight, and locked it behind you. You took a moment to appreciate Dean’s handiwork. It was like you hadn’t even been gone for two years. Although things were still in boxes, it seemed like most of your furniture had been uncovered, the floors swept, and surfaces of things dusted. The bathroom was in a similar state. He’d even located a towel for you. You found your duffel in your bedroom, sitting on top of your bed. You realized he’d found your sheets, too. You supposed you weren’t that surprised. He’d helped you with a lot of you packing. He’d meticulously labeled the boxes of everything that was staying in the apartment. You pulled out your shampoo and body wash. They were some of the few things you’d grabbed from your aunt and uncle’s house before you’d left. You also grabbed a change of clothes, not really looking too closely at what you’d grabbed, and headed to the bathroom. It seemed like Dean had been conscientious enough to run the water for a little while. There was still some water in the base of the tub and when you started the water it ran clean immediately and stayed clean, no rust or dirt in sight. You stripped while you waited for it to heat up.

When it was hot enough you stepped in, closing the curtain behind you. You washed your hair and body quickly, but stood in the spray for a long time. At some point you’d sat down in the bottom of the tub, but you didn’t remember doing that. The panic you’d been obstinately denying and ignoring was clawing its way through your chest.

Steve and Bucky were missing. They’d gone off to who knows where, their friends most likely taken to a prison in Fuckthatville, Godknowswhere. Without Natasha, Fury, or Sharon to tell you what was happening, you were in the dark. You didn’t know if they were alive. For the first time in a long time you stared at the letters on your wrist. Your soul brand usually made your heart ache, but this time it was different. It made you feel even more panic and helpless. Your boys- Rosie’s boys- were out there risking their lives. They always would, you knew. It was in their nature. But not knowing was worse than anything else. Rosie had never lost them, you knew; They’d lost her. Rosie didn’t remember much from the last years of her life. From the few things you could find, it seemed like Rosie had died at the age of sixteen, long before Steve had become the Captain at 23 and Bucky supposedly died at the age of 27. You didn’t know the pain of losing them, but you knew it would break you. Steve had Bucky when you’d died, but the closest you had was Dean, but he was no Bucky to your Steve.

You stood suddenly, nearly losing your balance as blood rushed back to its proper place. You wouldn’t let yourself think like that. They were fine. You’d see Steve and Bucky in a day or two at Rosie’s old Brooklyn home. You strained your mind to try and think of the address. Things not directly relating to Steve were pretty hard to remember. Even Bucky was fuzzy in most of Rosie’s memories. The only reason you remembered as much as you did was because he was always with Steve. The water had gone pretty chilly while you’d been having a silent breakdown in the shower. You shivered as you turned off the water and grabbed your towel.

“They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay,” you said, repeating the mantra as you dried off and got dressed. Your internal clock was telling you it was time to sleep and you agreed. They almost definitely wouldn’t be in the U.S. for at least eight hours. Maybe less if they used some sort of high-tech fancy jet, but you were willing to bet work as dangerous as theirs would hold them up for a bit.

You walked back into your room, freshly showered, and threw the duffel off of your bed and onto the floor. You didn’t even bother to get under the blankets, flopping face-down onto the bed.

“Sleep now. Nothing you can do to help. Brooklyn tomorrow,” you told yourself. Your mind and body were unwilling to rest, but eventually the lack of good sleep and stress-induced fatigue pulled you into dreamland.

You spent the next two days going to Rosie’s old place. Turned out the actual house had been torn down a long time ago and an apartment complex had been erected in its place. But it was still the correct address. Rosie recognized some of the old buildings in the area through your eyes. You’d been through the neighborhood a couple of times before but avoided it on principle. Rosie’s memories were shockingly vivid- almost hallucination-worthy. It was annoying on a good day, jarring and upsetting on a bad day.

You staked out the house at a cafe across the street. Their coffee was crap compared to your place’s, but you drank it just to give yourself something to do. You’d watch people on the street pass by. Certain sounds or feelings would trigger a Rosie memory, and you’d be teleported back eighty years. A breeze played with your hair and tickled your nose and suddenly the road was filled with people and beautiful, curvy classic cars. Nearly all of the men wore suits and hats. The women wore long, modest dresses and their hair was nearly universally short or pinned up on their head. You felt like you were at least two feet shorter and glanced next to you; Steve was laughing brightly at something someone had said. He was still weak and sickly in your memories. He was so different, yet still the same Steve you knew today.

Suddenly the world warped back to the present and you sighed. You hoped more than ever before that they’d be back soon. You were getting tired of Rosie’s visions. Every day you waited made your anxiety heighten. Every day they didn’t return made the long list of their possible fates in your head get even longer, but only one became more and more likely.

Day three brought some relief. You grabbed the paper from the stand at the front of the cafe and nearly dropped your coffee as you read the title.

“Bucky Barnes Innocent of Sokovia Accords Bombing” it read. Your heart thudded in your chest as you took your usual seat that gave you full view of the complex across the street.

You read the article, eyes quickly consuming every word. Due to evidence uncovered by parties unknown, it was made clear to the UN he wasn’t the one responsible for the bombing. Apparently, however, he was still wanted for the murders he committed as the Winter Soldier. You grimaced. You supposed that was to be expected, at least. But at least his name was clear of a crime he didn’t commit. Not that you believed it had truly been Bucky who had committed all of those murders. No, he’d been a brainwashed weapon of Hydra- a gun pointed at whoever they wanted. He was different, now. You’d seen that every day you spent with him. It was in his eyes; his laugh. He was a good man. A truly good one. You sighed as you closed your paper, then glanced up at the complex and nearly choked on your coffee.

Across the road was Steve and the woman you recognized as Wanda Maximoff. He gave you a small wave and then bent over to whisper something in Wanda’s ear as he pointed to you. She gave you a warm smile and waved at you, too. You gave them a tiny wave, your eyes wide with shock. Steve raised an eyebrow at you and motioned for you to come over.

You stood a little too suddenly and the cafe patrons around you gave you funny looks, but you didn’t notice. Steve snorted and covered his mouth with his hand. You could tell he was grinning broadly beneath his hand. Wanda’s smile widened, eyes sparkling with humor.

You crossed the road, checking to make sure it was clear before you stepped off the curb and tried to act as naturally as you could. If Wanda and Steve’s reactions were anything to go by, you were failing spectacularly.

“Stevie!” you said as you hopped up onto the curb and threw yourself into his arms.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, slightly surprised, but wrapped his arms around you anyway.

He smelled just like Rosie remembered. It was comforting. You let him rub your back gently for a minute, completely content, with no intention of letting go, when Wanda cleared her throat next to you.

You jumped back and away from Steve, startled. Had that been you or Rosie? You couldn’t tell.

“Uh, hi. Wanda, right?” you asked, extending your hand.

She smiled at you and shook your hand. “Yes. It’s (Y/N), correct? I’ve only heard it about fifty times the last few days,” she said, throwing Steve a tight smile.

“Ah, uh... I’m sorry?” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Oh, don’t be. It was nice seeing that side of Steve and Bucky,” she said, smiling for a second before her face fell.

“Oh, right. Where is Bucky?” you said, looking around for him as though he’d pop out from behind a car or something.

Steve wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Stevie...?” you said, voice questioning. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and he closed his mouth again. He tried again, but the same thing happened.

“Steve, don’t tell me he’s-” you began, barely daring to breathe.

“He’s not dead,” he said, finally looking at you. You breathed out a huge sigh of relief, but quickly focused on him again.

“Why isn’t he here, then? Was he worried he’d draw too much attention to himself?” you asked, confused.

“That’s, ah. Well... you see...” Steve rambled, unable to find the words he needed.

“We should get out of here. I don’t know how long I can continue making people ignore out presence. I may slip up, and we definitely don’t want that to happen this close to Stark,” Wanda said. It was only then you noticed her eyes were glowing red and small tendrils of red energy were seeping out at her feet and fingertips.

“Right, let’s go, then,” Steve said, more confident now that he had something concrete to do.

He grabbed your hand, engulfing it in his own. Without either of you thinking about it, your fingers laced together. It felt so natural you didn’t even think to question it.

“Where are we going?” you asked Steve as the three of you walked briskly down the sidewalk.

“Well, we’re trying to find a safe place to hide right now. I forced them to let me stop here so I could see you,” he explained. “The more immediate answer to your question is: the car,” he said, smiling down at you.

“You’re on the run? Still?” you asked, confused. “Even after the truth about Bucky came out?” he cringed minutely at the mention of his best friend’s name and your eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, we violated the Sokovia Accords. We’re still wanted criminals. Bucky especially,” Steve explained.

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty high on their shit list, too,” Wanda said from a few feet in front of you. You’d been so caught up in Steve’s presence you’d almost forgotten about her.

“We’ve been over this, Wanda, you’re not-” Steve said, starting what sounded like a very old and very tried conversation.

“I know, I know. I learned from my mistakes and did the best I could in a tough situation. Don’t need to repeat it all again,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Steve. “Just stating facts,” she said, turning back to face the road in front of her.

You arrived at the car a moment later, piling into the backseat with Steve, letting Wanda take the wheel.

“Can you even drive, Wanda?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well Nat taught me a little bit, but if there’s a problem I’ll just stop us from hitting anything with my powers,” she said, smiling at you in the rear-view mirror.

You and Steve exchanged worried glances, but she was already pulling out of the parking spot. You gave her your address and decided to leave that particular problem for later, hoping her powers and Steve’s reaction time would save you from any horrible would-be accidents. You turned to face Steve and watched how he froze, Rosie reading his tense posture easily.

“Stevie?” you asked, tone serious. Usually calling him by that got him to relax a bit, but he didn’t budge. It made you worry all over again.

“Yes?” he asked, tone trying and failing to be casual.

“Bucky. Explain, now,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“Which part?” he asked, grimacing.

“The most recent development that has you acting more squirrelly than defying the collective authority of nearly every nation in the world did,” you said, glaring at him.

“Ah, yeah, that part,” he said nervously, clasping his hands together.

You stared at him, unblinking. He sighed deeply and took your hand, which you stiffly allowed him.

“I suppose there’s no easy way to say it. Buck’s gone back into cryo,” he said. It looked like it was almost painful for him to keep eye contact with you while he said it.

“Cryo?” you asked, not understanding.

“Cryostasis. He’s frozen. He’s been in and out of it over the last seventy years he spent as The Soldier. I think the last two or so years were the longest he’d been out in a long time,” Steve explained as he watched you carefully.

“He... went back to being frozen? Of his own free will?” You said slowly, trying to process the new information.

Steve nodded slowly, not liking the way this seemed to be going. “There’s- There’s something else,” he said tentatively.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him, eyes hopeful. He braced himself for the inevitable tide of hurt his next words would cause.

Steve knew about what had happened between you and Bucky. His best friend had told him everything while sobbing. He hadn’t known for sure it was their Rosie, at first, but when he’d figured it out he hadn’t been able to end the relationship.

Steve didn’t blame him or hate him like Bucky was afraid he would, because Steve knew. He’d known for nearly eighty years.

Eighty years ago, back when Steve had been staying over at Bucky’s, he’d woken up to Bucky’s arm hitting him in his sleep. He reached to move it off of him and froze when he saw the letters. Bucky’d told him a few years ago what his soul brand said after Steve had shown him his own, excited after he’d found Rosie and her brand had his own initials. The initials Steve saw on Bucky’s left wrist now were the exact same on his own wrist. He held up his own wrist in comparison. R.A.F. glared up at him, the text on each the exact same. He knew soul brands tended to change fonts for different people. Some appeared scratchy and bold while others were thin and curly. The text on Steve’s wrist exactly matched that on Bucky’s wrist. It was an elegant, flowy, bold script.

He’d been unable to sleep the rest of the night, but vowed to never say anything about it to Bucky unless Bucky did first. He always kept a close eye on his best friend, always worrying about him. Steve wondered why Bucky didn’t want to shove them out of his life, but when Steve thought about how lonely he’d be without Bucky and Rosie, he’d understood.

He’d told Bucky as much when Bucky confessed everything to him. His friend had pulled him into a tight one-armed hug, his tears soaking Steve’s shirt as he murmured thank you’s.

“Take care of her, Stevie,” he’d said on the day he went into cryo in Wakanda. “And... tell her one more thing.”

“He... doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” Steve said, nearly unable to finish as your face fell and became almost emotionless by the time he’d finished. “... (Y/N)?” he asked, squeezing you hand tightly.

The comforting gesture was enough to break the spell of disbelief and you felt a sob tear through your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve sighed, face twisting in sorrow at the anguish you were clearly feeling. He pulled you from your seat and into his lap. He cradled your head to his chest and ran his fingers through your hair, murmuring comforting words into your hair as he placed gentle kisses on top of your head.

He wanted to explain further. Seeing you like this was killing him, but Bucky had been clear.

“Just that. Nothing else. No paraphrasing. It’s better this way. Promise me, Stevie,” he’d said.

And Steve had promised, seeing the desperation in his friend’s eyes.

It was a promise he was struggling to keep as you wailed into his chest.

“You’re lying,” you choked out between sobs.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I’m not. I’d never lie to you. Not about this,” he whispered as he stroked your hair with one hand and your back with the other.

His touch was the only thing keeping you from falling apart at the seams.

“Why, Stevie?” you gasped, clutching his shirt tightly. You needed answers. Explanations.

“I don’t know, darling. He didn’t tell me and he wouldn’t explain,” he said, tone apologetic.

You looked up at him, heartbroken, and he cupped your face with his hand, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He gently kissed away the tears on your opposite cheek, just like Rosie used to do when they were kids. The gesture nearly brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It was unfair that you were comforted by these memories when they weren’t even yours.

“We’re here,” Wanda said quietly from the front seat. You looked out the window. Sure enough, you were parked a half a block away from your cafe and apartment.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you somewhere safe and quiet,” he said as he opened the door and lifted you up one-handed, hand under your butt. You wrapped your arms around his neck to help steady yourself. He closed the car door before he placed his other arm firmly around your back.

“Through the back of the cafe,” you croaked. You placed your head on Steve’s shoulder and tried to stop crying. You didn’t want your staff to see you like this.

Oh god, your staff. They’d have a conniption if they saw you being carried in by Captain America, followed by the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda seemed to sense your sudden anxiety. “It’s alright, the people inside won’t see us. I’ll make sure their minds don’t acknowledge us,” she said, smiling slightly at you.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeak out just as Steve said “Thanks, Wanda.”

She smiled at the both of you and nodded as her eyes began to glow. Tendrils of red energy snaked out from her hands and through the door and windows. Steve opened the door and it was as though no one even heard it, or saw three people come walking brazenly through the middle of the shop.

“Cool place. Is this yours?” Wanda asked, smiling. It seemed like she was trying to cheer you up. You wished she wouldn’t. Her kindness reminded you of what had happened and made you want to cry again. You nodded your head, cheek brushing against Steve’s neck. “Nice,” she said, peering around as she followed Steve.

“Through here?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door in front of him.

You knew the shop well enough you didn’t have to turn around to check, simply nodding your head again instead. He opened the door with one hand, once again supporting you with one hand for a moment before he brought his arm back to cradle you to his chest. He walked through the kitchen area and up the stairs that were shoved up against the back wall. He stopped at the top as he tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Got the keys, sweetheart?” he asked, peering down at you. You nodded, extracting one arm from around his shoulders to dig around in your pocket. You pulled them out numbly and unlocked the door. He opened it and stepped inside, Wanda trailing after you. You didn’t bother putting the keys back in your pocket, throwing them on the table besides the door. It took Steve only a moment to realize your bedroom had to be to the right. The only thing to your left was your tiny kitchen. He started walking down the hallway, pausing only slightly when Wanda spoke up.

“I’ll wait out here,” she said, smiling at you as she took a seat on your squishy sofa.

Steve nodded his head in acknowledgement of what she said and continued down the hall. He glanced in each doorway, passing the laundry room and bathroom before he finally found your bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, careful not to let any part of the door frame hit your body. He carried you over to the bed, deftly avoiding any particularly solid-looking things on the floor. You’d been so stressed you’d hardly bothered to clean while you’d been home. You might have been embarrassed if it wasn’t Steve and there weren’t bigger things on your mind.

He bent his knees, removing one hand to carefully pull back your blankets before he laid you down gently onto the bed. He walked to the other side, pausing to pull his shoes off at the foot of the bed, and crawled under the blankets next to you. He sat up against the headboard, reclining on some pillows, and pulled you against him. You sighed softly and rested your head against his chest. He raised his hand to run his fingers over your hair, the other held your hand, rubbing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

This was how he and Rosie used to lay together when they were younger and he’d been having nightmares. It was how he held her in the hospital when the nurses weren’t around.

“I’m not her,” you whispered. You had to tell him. Had to make him understand. But you were afraid. You couldn’t lose him after you just lost Bucky. You still loved Steve. You still loved them both so much.

“I know,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. You laid like that for a long time. You should have been crying, but your tear ducts wouldn’t listen. You wanted to cry. You wanted to rage and scream at the heavens and pull Bucky’s ass out of cryo and beat the sense back into him.

But you didn’t do any of those things. Instead you stared at the wall blankly, cocooned in the safety of Steve’s arms as he murmured loving, comforting things into your hair.

You looked inside of yourself, trying to assess the damage. You were shocked to find nothing there. You felt nothing.

Bucky hadn’t broken your heart, he’d obliterated it.

Chapter 10

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[theunwrittenones]

Prompt #3

„Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.”

“Dude, we`re not asking the Dragon for directions.” He slammed the warning down on her, like a sledgehammer to an anvil.

“Alright, alright. I got it, ok?” Ferroy brushed the dark leather-gloved hands off her collar and took a step back. It was bad enough that people talked about them already. A scene was the last thing they needed right now.

“Look Vince, it’ll be easy peasy lemon sqeezy, I tell you!” The bald man called Vince gave her a look, that told her exactly how not amused he was about her flippant attitude.

“Don’t yer fucking ‘Vince’ me, Roy!” He knew how much she despised it when he abbreviated her name like that. “Listen Girl, you go down that stinking hell hole of a dungeon and all sorts of crazy shebang is going to happen to you.” He couldn’t see her rolling back her eyes behind the giant brim of her hat, but he knew her to well, to pick up on it. “Roll those squinty balls back a little further and maybe, just maybe, you can see the sun shining in your arse!” He put his hands on his hips and averted his eyes.

She leaned in to him and spoke through gritted teeth: “Vince, do you think that I -of all people- don’t know how fucking dangerous that damn manor is?” He didn’t look at her, but ever so slightly shook his head. His skin was unnaturally pale, so that the red-brown scars, traced all over his face in their crisscross pattern, became even more obvious.

“I wouldn’t have accepted, if we had a darn choice, now would I? Guess what, dear brother, we don’t have a choice, not anymore.” Vince stared at the ground, as if he expected to find the right argument hidden between dusty wooden boards. She relaxed and put her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to do right by her, she knew. After all, they only had each other.

Their parents and friends were simply gone, devoured by the blight. Growing up in an orphanage was tough. The Mistress and Director had a deal with the local farmers, so they were raised in slave labor. Working children still were a viable currency back then.

The streets took them, as soon as their teenage years began to dawn. The unmitigated gateway to a life of crime and violence. Ferroy then, discovered her unhealthy affinity to knives. It didn’t take her long to work her first wet-job. In the beginning, she was sloppy. Her Targets got away sometimes and her clients tried to ditch her on occasion, but she was a quick learner. Vince on the other hand had a nag to acquire all sorts off dangerous friends. Often the wrong types of people in wrong types of places, but always high up in rank and unhinged in all the bad ways.

Their wild years began shortly after they carved a market for themselves. Leviathan Bay was a candy store and no one said no to the ‘Grimm Twins’. One slip up, however, is often enough to send your luck straight down the toilette bowl.

Ferroy owed money. To the wrong people. People introduced to her by Vince.

“You’re right.” Vince wiped invisible mud off his face. “Of course, you’re right. Just promise me, don’t do anything rash!”

She shrugged: “You know me.”

“Damn right, I do.” His tempered flared up again, but he fought it down.

“The bastard is here, brace yourself.”

An incredible fat man made his way through the crowd. His gestures, as he greeted several townsfolk, were relaxed and aloof. Rakash-Tai Vun, ‘caretaker’ of most known and unknown gambling houses in Leviathan Bay, effortlessly split the groups of people that stood in his path. It took him a few moments to spot them, but when he did, a smile began to crack his face.

Talking to Rakash was every bit as disgusting and loathsome, as she imagined. Even now, Ferroy felt ice sliding down her bare back. There were the usual threats of skinning and bone breaking, of course. Talk that seemed to come so natural to people with deep confidence issues. However, the price to pay was much steeper this time around. The way he looked at them made her knife hand itch. ‘Forced employment’ was the term, Rakash used. Vince, despite all that, kept his head cool. He never apologized or begged. He simply offered the plan Ferroy had pushed on him earlier and wrapped it up like the deal of the century. Rakash took the bait. He knew the risk, but craved the reward even more. Their debt was mere formality to him, but meant all to them. Now, there was a unique opportunity, each man of the business dreamed about.

She departed to her very probable doom around noon the next day. Leviathan Bay was but a speck in the distance. A grey wound in the spotless golden fields behind her. In front of her rose the ‘Chocking Hills’. Covered almost to completion with thick forest, that held bandits at best and unspeakable horrors at worst. There was however, an upside to her situation. Her two traveling companions were over all quite pleasant. There was almost no talking. Their only exchanges were social grunts, when task needed to be performed or hand signals, when they were hunting and navigating.

It took them the better part of the afternoon to arrive at their destination, the serpentine, narrow path up to ‘Raven Barrow’.

Never had her eyes seen more dilapidation then here. Corpses, bloated out of proportion by unknown diseases, littered the streets. Nearly all houses appeared to be caved in and inhabitable. Gallows hung right in front of her, holding lifeless forms gently swaying from the tireless arm of the giant scaffold, built in the town square. There was madness in the serenity of this horrific landscape. From the farmstead to her left emanated a sick purple glow. She knew it to be there, because of the stories she heard when she was quite young. Something from the depth of the ‘Wailing Forest’ took quite literally roots there. Last but not least, the manor house itself. Its quite, ominous presence overshadowed the whole of ‘Raven Barrow’. Built on the highest location just outside of town. Like a dark sentinel, always watching. Ferroys heart took a dive into her stomach. The pure rawness of death all around almost made her dizzy. Her two companions urged her forward and she was glad they did, for she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Her instincts screamed flight, but flight was not an option.

So she braced herself, for there was only one way to go…

“We are not asking the dragon for directions!” Jimmy says. I loath him for being a coward. Being a coward myself, naturally, I don’t say anything. Instead I step back, out of the streetlight and closer to the forest. The ‘dragon’ was the one that yelled insults at us, but Jimmy had been stupid enough to reply. We’d almost made it home after our D’n’D session at Kim’s.

“This isn’t D’n’D, Jimmy.” Mona says and pushes her elbow into Jimmy’s side. Mona is fierce. One day I want to have the courage to ask her out. I could take her up the mountain and map out constellations at night. I think she would like that.

“This isn’t D’n’D, Jimmy.” Our enemy grunts and his friends join the laugher. Wonder who the ‘dragon’ is? It’s George the dumbest and meanest guy from school. Walking cliché and quarterback of our school team the ‘Mighty Smallville Dragons’.

Finally, Mark, our Dungeon Master each Friday night and king of the nerds (he gets beaten up the least at school), steps forward.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Mark says, and George cocks his head like he’s just warming up. Mark is tall, but in a stretched out lanky way. He doesn’t stand a chance. George and his friends laugh. There’s us, Mark, Jimmy, Mona and I. Four nerds against four of the dragons. They are going to beat the shit out of us.

“Fucking dumb asses.” George says and lets his fist crack against Jimmy’s head. Jimmy goes down like he rolled a critical one.

“No!” I shout and step forward on impulse. I’m next. My lip splits when George’s fist collides. My hand goes up to my jaw on instinct and warm blood spills into my mouth. It dribbles down my chin as I stagger back. I feel around my teeth with my tongue. My incisor cut into my cheek, but all my teeth are okay.

“Shit. What the hell is wrong with you?” Mona aims at George and the dude is too surprised or too dumb to move. She bitch-slaps George. I’d swoon if I weren’t occupied with the pain in my face.

“You’ll regret this.” George says. “Cunt.” He adds, and I see how Mona’s face scrunches up in anger.

“We gotta run!” Jimmy says. I grab Mona by the elbow. Jimmy helps Mark back to his feet. George looks like he might murder Mona. You don’t hit girls. Maybe George abides to that rule, but better not risk it.

“God, I wish we could do something against that guy. He’s such a dick.” I exclaim, when we’re far away from George and his cronies, close by my house.

“What happened to you, Andy?” My mom asks when she opens the door. I’m dragged into the kitchen, where she and grandma make a fuss. Grandma dabs my lip with something that makes my eyes water.

“Was it that big boy George Miller?” Mom asks, but I shake my head. I’m not a traitor. Guess the heat in my cheeks is telling enough.

“You know how those dragon guys are.” I say, and my Mom puts a band-aid on my face. Come Monday, let’s hope I’m all healed up. I don’t want to look like a total looser at school. Mom steps away from me and gives me a worried look. I’m glad Dad is still at work, because he would be angry at me for not fighting back. Dad was never a nerd, he was one of the cool kids. He’ll never understand.

“They are bullies.” Grandma says. “When you’re ready, come upstairs. I have something to show you.” She adds with a sad smile. Avoiding eye-contact, Mom and I exchange a few platitudes about how our day was, before I head upstairs. I scratch at the congealed blood that dribbled down my neck. Yelling for Grandma I follow her voice into her bedroom. I’m never in here, it’s too stuffy and just like I don’t want Grandma to invade my privacy and hang out in my room, I never stay long in hers. She’s sitting at her dresser, the yellow lamp light smooths out her wrinkles. Something glistens in her palm.

“Take it!” She says when I reach her. I look at it, it’s a small green carving of a dragon. Too heavy to be plastic. There’s a hole going through its middle, like you are supposed to wear it on a chain around your neck.

“It’s made from jade.” She explains. “Your Grandpa brought it back after ‘Nam.” She says.

“Uh, thanks.” I say, unsure what to do.

“Your Grandpa said it was for protection.” She says and folds her hands over mine to wrap around the jade dragon. Her hands are wrinkled and dry, but warm.

“I think you should have it.” She says and I pocket it.

“Thanks, Grandma.” I want to turn around and leave, but Grandma stops me with a hand to my forearm.

“You’re a good boy, Andy. I just wished you would believe in yourself.” I swallow hard. Suddenly I feel not only embarrassed, but crushed. It’s like she can look right behind my eyes and into my thoughts.

“Promise me, next time you and your friends meet the Miller boy you’ll try to talk to him.” Grandma continues and lets go of my arm.

“There’s no point talking to them. They’ll- you know how they are- they’re-.” I stop and she finishes for me: “They’re violent. At least, I can tell you this: high school doesn’t last forever. Once you went to college, and Miller and his friends are still stuck in Smallville, you’ll have the upper hand. And because you’re you, you won’t hold it against them.” She says it with a fond smile, that makes me look at my shoes.

“I think I understand.” I mumble, without looking up.

“Good night, Andy.” Grandma says.

Lying awake for at least an hour, I imagine all the things I could have said to George Miller to keep him from hitting my friends, but every time it ends the same: I am the one that gets beaten up, even more than today. Curled into a tight ball, I stare into the darkness. All the other guys at school make fun of me too, even the girls. They always find a reason: my glasses, my fat ass, the cheap T-shirts my Mom buys me. Every time their jabs hurt just as much as a physical beating. There are tears in my throat. Gulping, I remind myself that I am too old for crying.

The moonlight glistens on the little jade dragon I put on my night stand. It’s cool to the touch and I curl my hand around it in a tight fist and press it to my chest. It calms be down, I think, but maybe I am just exhausted. I’m so, so tired. The stone warms to my touch until it becomes a pinpoint of fire. The dragon is scourging my chest, but after all, I am only dreaming.

I wake up and double over coughing. The smell of smoke clogs up my lungs. I take a deep breath, arch my back. Fire, I think, and jump to my feet. There’s a fire in the house. The jade dragon falls to the floor with a clink. I’m halfway down the steps, before I realize the smell of smoke is gone. Maybe a remnant of a dream. Slower, with my heart beating fast in my eardrums, I walk down the rest of the stairs.

The TV‘s on mute in the living room. I expect my Dad to be sleeping on the couch (he doesn’t like to wake up Mom in the middle of the night). But Dad isn’t there. There’s noises coming from the porch. Following the commotion, dread drops into my stomach. My parents are outside, talking in hushed voices with our neighbor through the fence. Grandma is probably still sleeping upstairs. Dad has his arm slung over Mom’s shoulder and she’s huddled close.

The wood creaks under my feet. Their heads turn. My neighbor says his goodbyes and vanishes back inside.

“Go back to bed, Andy!” Dad tells me, but my eyes find Mom’s.

“What happened?” I ask.

She shakes her sleep tousled head. “There’s been a fire in town.” She stops, swallows, like she needs to find the right words first: “George Miller’s house burned to the ground.” She finally settles for the truth.

I feel an odd and disconcerting mixture of fear and excitement trickle down my spine.

“Is he dead?” I ask and hold my breath. My lungs feel hollow, like someone scooped them out like ice cream with a big spoon. Dad clears his throat. Mom pushes out of his embrace.

“He’ll know from the newspapers anyway.” She says. “George, his parents and his little sister Jody didn’t make it out alive. The smoke suffocated them, before the fire reached the upper level of their home.” I immediately wonder if they woke up first and weren’t able to get out of the house.

“The firemen came in too late.” Dad explains. After I say nothing for several seconds, he asks: “Son, are you okay?”

I nod, but it’s automatic.

“I feel- I feel sorry for them.” I stutter, cross my arms around my chest.

“Go back to bed! Try to sleep if you can!” Mom says and steps closer. She wants to hug me, but I step out of her reach. It feels like her touch would burn me to a crisp.

“Sorry.” I mumble. “Good night Mom.” I say and exchange a look with my Dad, before I turn on my heals and go back inside. In my room I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment. I try to take even breaths, but it doesn’t work. George was a bad guy, a bully, a total dickhead, but him and his whole family didn’t deserve to die.

There’s something on the edge of my awareness that comes into focus now. A small stabbing pain right in the middle of my chest where the breastbone is. As I think about it the pain intensifies. My hand is shaking as I inspect my shirt. There’s a burn mark right where I pushed the jade dragon against my chest.

“Shit.” I cuss and repeat the words so much it becomes a litany. I stumble over to my wardrobe and open the doors to look at my reflection. I look like a wax puppet. My skin’s shiny and sweaty. My mouth snaps shut. With clammy fingers I lift my shirt. It drops to the floor and I see the red burn mark on my chest. The skin is alleviated where the jade dragon touched down. On closer inspection I can see that the outline of the dragon is drawn in red angry lines, like it literally burned my skin away. It’ll scar. It’ll stay for everyone to see. I gulp. It’s evidence of what I did. Whatever my Grandpa brought back from Vietnam is dangerous. It killed George and Jody and their parents.

I search for the dragon. It fell under my bed. It’s no longer calm and cool, but hot. I close my fist around the pendant. With my eyes shut, I am certain it pulses in sync with my own heart beat. For a moment I feel like I am the one in control for once in my life.

I take the hike up to the mountain, the jade dragon sleeps in my pocket. All thoughts of taking Mona up here are pushed aside. I need to see with my own eyes. I looked at George’s house on Google Maps. It’s one of those two story block buildings, unspectacular, except it wasn’t the only one like it build in that street. After checking the weather and reading up on how fires develop and behave under certain conditions, I am certain the other houses should have caught fire too. Additionally, it had been a fairly stormy night. From up here I can see the building. It’s easy to find among the strong colors of spring. The Miller house is a black burned hole. I got my binoculars with me. I check the surrounding ground. Not even the grass around the building is burned or the least bit dried out, but lush and green. It’s like the fire came from inside the walls itself.

It’s a curse, is it not? I try flinging the jade dragon down the cliff. I don’t want it anymore. But it stays in my palm like it has been glued to it. The whole next week I attempt to get rid of the damn thing. But it’s no use. I thought about giving it away as a gift, because that is how I got it from Grandma, but I can’t do that to the bullies at school, least of all my friends. A rumor starts, about me paying someone of the dropout kids in town to burn down George Miller’s building. I try laughing it off, but to my own ears it’s a bitter laugh. Guess the others know I had something to do with the fire one way or the other. Even my friends start avoiding me after a while. Maybe they can sense something isn’t right with me. For a while, things stay quiet. Soon the kids at school forget the whole affair and George Miller becomes an anecdote, nothing more. That’s how the bullying starts up again.

It’s not the same. The fire changed something inside of me. The night of the dragon let me get my revenge on George. This time, when someone tries to get under my skin, I know what I can do to make them regret it. The worst thing is that I like the thought. I like the idea of power. I don’t know what the dragon can do. But the bigger question is what I am capable of. That scares me most of all. Grandma was wrong, I am not a good boy. I’m afraid one day I’ll have enough. I’ll snap and use it again on someone else. I fear for that day to come.

„Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.”

“But it’s so cute and fluffy.”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s huge. Has scales and fucking spits ice.” My friend hissed under his breath, pointing with his swords towards the beast.

In between the tannin-brown forest, the icy-blue dragon wasn’t able to hide very well. The grass was crisp under my feet. I looked up and the trees were skyscraper tall, reminding me of home. My view went between my friend Leroy and then back to the dragon. The beast really looked cute, with round little ears and blue sparkling scales. Maybe he was not fluffy but I knew deep down, that this dragon had to be a good guy. Someone we could trust. You just had to look at those feline eyes, they were gleaming with cunning and somewhat kindness. He wasn’t aware of what would come for him. It made me trust him on the spot.

“I’ll go talk to him.” I let my companion know. Hands traveling down to my battle-ax. “You think I should leave my ax here? It would show I come in peace. He might not attack me right away.”

“Kane, if you leave now I’ll go back to the tavern and spend my coin. You’re not a dragon, you’re human and dragons eat humans for breakfast. They don’t care if you carry a weapon or not. They attack.” Leroy pointed out.

“Don’t worry friend, I used my last skill point to level up on the skill Animal-friend and, may I remind you, that I was raised by a dragon.”

Leroy sighed heavily. “Animal-friend means you don’t scare rabbits or chickens easily, but I highly doubt that a dragon will not attack you due to that skill.”

“I was raised by a dragon.” I pointed out again to make my point. The delicate creature would not attack one of their own children.

“You were not raised by a fucking dragon. You had human parents as I did.”

“Never met my parents, have no memory of them. I was raised by a dragon. If you would read all the documents we find along our adventures and not skip them, you would know that there was an unnamed young boy in Themar Land, who was saved by magicians from a fierce dragon… and turns out in other letters that this boy was raised by the dragon. They took the boy against his will and slaughtered the pure creature for nothing.”

“And how are you sure it was you? Was your name written down?” Leroy wanted to know, looking at the dragon, afraid we might catch his attention with our banter.

“I can’t be sure, but as you’ve might noticed, I have a pretty big scar on my shoulder and … that’s proof.” I said, opening my mouth to say more before closing it again. Damn, I needed better arguments to prove my point of being dragon-raised to convince him. Did being pretty sure about it count as proof?

“Okay” Leroy rolled his eyes, clearly avoiding the topic now and trying to find a solution. He eyed the dragon more than once, unsure if we’d drawn his attention already but I was sure we hadn’t crossed the checkpoint yet and that’s why the ice-spitting dragon hadn’t moved yet.

Leroy looked at me, raised eyebrows, sword in hand. “So, what are we gonna do? We can stand here and hide, but then we won’t find the treasure and you know I want the treasure. I need to find it and I can’t do this without you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m gonna go and talk to him. Dragons are a million years old, he has to know something about the hidden treasure of Themar Land.”

“This still does not solve our problem, even if he wouldn’t turn you into an ice statue, you can’t talk Dragon.”

“Duh, I leveled my language skills too.”

Leroy’s lips pressed into a white slash. “Yeah, for human language and that upgrade means that it’s easier for you to get information from humans, not freakin’ dragons.”

I shrugged. My shoulders lowered and I crossed my arms. Maybe he had a point but we needed to make a decision quick.

“Guys!” The voice from the Gamemaker blurted into my ears through the tiny intercom. “Make a decision or you’re out of the game!”

This whole situation Leroy and I were stuck in didn’t seem to look good on TV. The ratings weren’t rising like the producers wanted to. They needed more action. That was getting them great ratings, it was the reason I started to watch it and applied to be part of too. Action, slaying dragon, fighting aliens or battleships -whatever the setting, it always involved fighting.

Leroy and I nodded. We didn’t want to be cut.

“Like it or not, I’ll try talking to him, when I die you have to go and find the treasure without me. You chose the skill Death-From-Above and Lightfoot, that-”

“Landing safely when jumping from higher grounds won’t help me when this thing attacks.” Leroy snapped.

Maybe he was right, the dragon was huge but asking him for directions seemed to be a good way to get ahead of the competition. I was sure no one else was so smart about it.

I was going to do this. Although Leroy had taken some of my confidence away, I kept the battle-ax with me just in case things went south. I didn’t want to die so early in the game.

The grass was crunching lightly under my boots when I moved forward. I was amazed, that even though I knew this was just Virtual-Reality-TV, I was nervous. My heart rate was going up, my hands were sweating and the closer I moved the bigger the dragon got. When crossing the checkpoint the dragon started to move. He spread his wings, sending icy wind towards me. The air was shifting and I saw my breath coming out of my mouth. My hands started shaking, it was suddenly so cold and I had trouble standing straight.

When the dragon spotted me, he growled. The ground was trembling. I lost my balance.

“I’m Kane. Son of the dragons.” I yelled. The dragon looked at me. A smile crept up my piercing cool face, before the dragon opened his mouth. He spilled ice, not words. The icicles flew through the air, cut into my skin and split painfully through my heart.

My sight faded, everything went black.