#and then not too long after he APPEARS AGAIN SEEKING YOUR HELP FOR HIS SCARS

[wynandcore]

Thinking Able thoughts imagine you’re on your way back to the garage after delivering a package or something and you look at the news and BAM your friend’s dead??? He got killed while you were out??? What the fuck??

[stylesispunk]

"Where is my love?"

Joel miller x f! reader

summary: Isn't she coming to me?

w.c: 7k>

warning: angst, mentions of death, and grief.

a/n: this is a sad one and closer to my heart because grieving is the love we can give to people who are gone. The only change of this is that has been ten years since the "end of the world" and is based on the last chapter of the show. reblogs and comments are always appreciated and for the love of god, can you please help me with inspo for writing, I want to write for other characters, so if you have any suggestions are welcome. Have a lovely reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika

masterlist

Your paths crossed a long time ago. When the world had descended into madness, the souls met the dead in a now forgotten land. He came across you, and he fell in love with you. The sunlight radiating after the freezing storm was a fire keeping his brittle heart warm.

You had saved him from ending his own life that day, when he had lost faith in a horror movie without an ending or a purpose. He did lose everything he had known—everything he had ever loved and protected—but he had met you.

For him, you were an angel, not delicate nor free from sins, but an angel who appeared after he thought he had met his spirit in heaven.

You have looked after him and Tommy for days, taking care of their well-being and taking care of the reminiscing scar plastered on Joel’s forehead as a reminder of his almost-death encounter with his angel, you.

And you had loved him ever since; you found yourself increasingly drawn to him, not just for his vulnerability under your eyes but because he had brought sense back to life. His presence seemed to chase away the shadows that had been going to hunt you since now.

As the days turned into weeks, months, and then years, the bond between you and Joel only grew stronger. You found yourself drawn to his strength, his resilience in the face of adversity, and the way he faced each day with unwavering determination.

You had loved him after acknowledging every terrible thing he had done, and you loved him anyway. The darkness inside of him, taunted by the loss of the previous time, didn’t prevent you from looking at him as if he hung the stars of the sky. You both looked at night before sleeping, trying to find some reassurance.

Together, you faced the challenges, from the first days of the end of the world to the QZ, to Ellie, to where you were right now, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

Now, here in Jackson, in the quiet moment before sleep, you and Joel would still gaze up at the stars, finding solace in the vastness of the night sky. And as you held each other close, you found reassurance in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

Joel broke the silence, his voice soft yet filled with the weight of years gone by. "You know, I never thought I'd find this kind of peace again. Not after everything that's happened."

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness. "We've been through hell and back, Love. But somehow, we made it together."

He reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort your touch brought to him. "I don't know what I would do without you," he admitted, his voice breaking a little.

"You don't have to find out," you replied, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

Joel nodded, his gaze returning to the heavens above. "Yeah, together," he echoed, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of those words.

"You will never lose me,” you whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "And I'll always be here to guide you home."

He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of your lips over his skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain and longing.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart overflowing with love for the man beside you.

Being in Jackson brought you back to a civilization, to peace, to a place where you could both sleep next to each other at the same time without fearing other people coming for you.

But as much as you cherished the peace and stability that Jackson provided, you couldn't escape the reality of everyday life. With it came the mundane challenges, the petty conflicts, and the occasional tension that threatened to disrupt the tranquility you had found together. There were disagreements, misunderstandings, and moments of frustration that tested the strength of your relationship.

You felt a rush of joy as you entered the door of your Jackson home. You couldn't wait to tell Joel about the trade you had made, so you were looking forward to seeing his reaction.

"Joel," you called out, your voice full of anticipation as you approached the living room where he was sitting. "Guess what? "I made a trade today."

Joel looked up from his book, interest in his eyes. "A trade?" "What did you get?"

You smiled, holding out the little camera you'd traded for some extra food supplies. "I exchanged some of our extra coffee for this camera! It's in excellent condition, and I thought we might use it to save some memories."

As you proudly showed the camera, Joel's initial curiosity turned into an unhappy face. He set down his book and looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and stress.

"You traded all of our extra coffee for a camera?" Joel repeated, his voice filled with frustration. "We rely on that coffee, you understand. It's not simply an extravagance; it's a product in high demand here in Jackson."

You faltered, understanding the potential repercussions of your impulsive trade. "I know, Joel, but I thought..."

"You thought what?" Joel interjected, his irritation growing. "That a camera was more important than having enough food to get us through the winter? "What if something happens and we need that coffee?"

You bit your lip, feeling a sense of remorse rush over you. "I didn't think of it that way. I just thought it would be wonderful to have something to save our memories."

Joel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand, but we must prioritize our needs before our wants. You cannot go out there and make bad decisions."

His words hurt, and you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn't plan to compromise your safety, but in your excitement, you forgot to consider the repercussions of your actions.

"I'm sorry, Joel," you said quietly, feeling a sensation of shame rush over you. "I didn't mean to cause any harm."

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being this childish," he murmured, strolling past you to the kitchen and leaving you in

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being so childish," he replied, walking past you to the kitchen and leaving you in the living room with a bitter taste in your mouth.

A wave of guilt swept over you. You didn't mean to act impulsively or selfishly, but you now see that your actions had far-reaching implications.

Feeling the weight of Joel's disappointment, you remained in the living room, staring at the camera in your hands, your heart heavy. You realized he was correct; you needed to be more responsible and more aware of the circumstances and the actions that could affect your survival; being at peace in a place did not imply the risk had passed.

With a heavy sigh, you lay the camera down on the table, the excitement you had felt earlier replaced with a sense of regret. Joel's words lingered in your head, reminding you of the excitement you had felt earlier, replaced by a sense of remorse. Joel's words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the need to grow and learn from your mistakes.

You walked upstairs to your room, and with a heavy heart, you lay in bed, the events of the day on your mind. Despite the comfort of the blankets that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the sense of remorse and sorrow that persisted within you.

You closed your eyes and replayed the conversation with Joel in your head, each word stinging like a sharp reminder of your failure. You knew you'd let him down, and the thought gnawed at you, leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the weight of Joel's disappointment gradually began to lighten. A few hours later, you awoke to the faint click of a camera shutter. Blinking sleepily, you opened your eyes to see Joel standing by the bedside, a tiny smile on his lips as he held the camera.

"What are you doing?" you said, your voice still laced with sleepiness.

Joel chuckled and lowered his camera as he neared the bed. "Just capturing a moment," he said, his eyes filled with adoration as he glanced down at you. In confusion, you furrowed your brow and sat up slightly in bed. "A moment of me sleeping?" you asked, feeling both amused and fascinated.

Joel nodded, his smile growing wider. "Yes, a second while you sleep. You looked beautiful; I couldn’t resist."

Despite the lingering anger from earlier, Joel's gesture made you feel warm. It was a modest act, but it showed a lot about his remorse and faith in your relationship. Reaching out, you took the camera from Joel's hands, studying the image of yourself sleeping soundly.

"I look horrible," you muttered. Joel softened his smile and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Liar," he muttered. "Sorry for how I acted earlier." He moved forward, pressing his lips against your cheek this time.

"You're just an old, grumpy man," you remember, with a tiny giggle. His soft kisses eased the tension between you. His amusing response lightened the mood and lifted the sadness that had been in your heart.

"Old grumpy man, huh?" Joel chuckled, shaking his head in mock indignation. “I’ll show you what this old, grumpy man can do,” he said, planting a more urgent kiss on your lips this time.

You worked hard in the weeks following your fight with Joel to repair the distance that had grown between you. Despite the apparent signs of peacemaking, you still had a persistent sense of insecurity.

Then a new woman arrived in Jackson. She was closer to Joel's age, and you couldn't help but notice the easy connection that had developed between them. They spent a lot of time together, whether on patrol with Tommy or speaking in the common areas of Jackson.

You tried to ignore the jealousy that was bubbling up inside of you. After all, Joel had always been polite and accommodating to strangers, so there was no reason to suspect anything other than friendship between them.

But as the days went on and you saw Joel and the new woman form a stronger bond, your concern grew. You couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was something more between them—something that harmed the precious trust you'd worked so hard to build. 

On today's evening, as you watched Joel and the woman laugh from across the room, you felt a pang of jealousy. You excused yourself and withdrew from the privacy of your thoughts since you could no longer contain your feelings.

You were alone in the living room, struggling with opposite emotions. Part of you felt ashamed for doubting Joel and allowing jealousy to cloud your thinking. But another part of you couldn't help but feel sad and insecure as if you weren't enough for him; after all, it wasn't just you, him, and Ellie outdoors any longer, and here in Jackson, you weren't the last woman in the world.

As you sat alone in the living room, buried in your thoughts, the sound of steps broke your state of trance. Looking up, you noticed Ellie enter the home, looking bright and cheerful, until she spotted your teary eyes.

"Hey, I missed you at dinner in the bar," Ellie said, concern etching her features as she approached you. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to brush off her concern with a forced smile, but Ellie wasn't fooled. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, your voice betraying the turmoil within you.

But Ellie wasn't about to let it go that easily. She moved closer, her gaze searching yours with intensity. "No, it's not. What happened? Why are you crying?"

Your heart ached at the concern in Ellie's eyes, and despite your best efforts to hold back the tears, they continued to fall. "I...I don't know," you admitted, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "I just...I don't know where Joel is."

Ellie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Joel? He's eating with Tommy and the new girl, why?"

You shook your head, unable to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you repeated, feeling the tears threaten to overwhelm you once more. "I just...I need to talk to him."

Sensing the urgency in your voice, Ellie nodded in understanding. "Okay, let's go find him," she said, taking your hand and leading you out of the house.

As you followed Ellie towards the bar, your heart raced with fear and anticipation. You knew that whatever awaited you there, you couldn't continue to let your doubts and insecurities consume you.

Once inside the bar, you noticed Joel in the crowd, his gaze settling on yours with a warmth that shot an emotion through your chest. It was as if a magnetic force drew you closer together, despite any remaining doubts.

You moved across the crowded bar, Ellie's hand firmly clutched in yours, Joel's smile widening, and his gaze never leaving yours.

Finally reaching Joel's side, you felt a wave of relief sweep over you as he held you in his arms. The warmth of his hug swept away the residual frost of doubt, leaving you with an eager sense of calm and belonging.

"I missed you," Joel murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into Joel's embrace, reveling in the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only you and Joel locked in a tender embrace. It was as if time itself had slowed to a halt, allowing you to savor the precious moments you shared together.

As Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt a rush of emotion swell within you, a profound gratitude for the love and support he had always shown you.

As the tender moment between you and Joel lingered, a voice interrupted, pulling you back to the present. "Hey, Joel!" called out a cheerful voice, and you turned to see a woman approaching, a bright smile on her face.

Joel turned to face the stranger, his arm still wrapped over you protectively. "Oh, hey Rachel," he said, a warm smile on his face. "This is my girlfriend," he added, introducing you. Then he turned his face to introduce the stranger to you. "This is Rachel, and she is new to Jackson."

You smiled politely at Rachel, but a tinge of dread came over you as you watched how she drew in closer to Joel, her hand casually resting on his free arm. You repressed a jealous pang and pushed yourself to keep a friendly demeanor, even though your heart squeezed with uncertainty.

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," you said, your voice solid despite the tumult inside you.

Rachel returned the welcome with a warm grin, and her eyes flickered with intrigue as she glanced. between you and Joel. "Likewise," she replied, her tone friendly but tinged with a hint of flirtation.

As the night went on, you couldn't ignore the sense of unease that hung in the air. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, Rachel's lingering touches and seductive glances at Joel gnawed at your insides, stoking the jealousy that threatened to engulf you.

With each passing moment, it became more difficult to ignore Joel and Rachel's growing friendship. Their laughter and friendly banter got on your nerves, reminding you of the bond that they had.

You tried to ignore your misgivings and enjoy the evening with Joel, but insecurity weighed heavily on you. It felt like you were on the outside looking in, watching helplessly as Joel and Rachel got closer with each passing second.

Rachel's flirtations became more daring as the night progressed, her touches lingering a bit too long and her laughter provocative. Despite your best attempts to remain calm, the jealousy simmering beneath the surface threatened to explode.

You stole looks toward Joel, hoping to find reassurance in his eyes, but he seemed unaware of the impact Rachel's actions were having on you. It was as if she had enchanted him, consuming all of his attention.

You excused yourself from the table, unable to take the sight of Joel and Emily's flirtatious behavior any longer. You could understand, after all, that Joel was a handsome man who hadn't received this much attention since the world ended; yet, that didn't make it any less painful.

As you excused yourself from the table, a slew of feelings surged through you—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of isolation. You longed for Joel's reassurance, his acknowledgment of the hurt that Rachel's behavior was causing you, but as you stole a glance at him, you saw only obliviousness in his gaze.

With a heavy heart, you moved away, your footsteps quietly echoing on the bar's hardwood floor. You felt Joel's stare on your back, but you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes, scared of what you might find reflected there.

As you approached the edge of the room, you hesitated, your back facing Joel, struggling to find the perfect words. Finally, you spoke, hardly rising above a whisper. "I need some air," you remarked, your voice filled with anguish.

After a period of silence, you felt Joel's hand on your arm, warm and soothing. "Hey," he replied quietly, his voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of longing and frustration. "I just...I need some time," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll be outside."

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with understanding as he nodded in response. "I'll come find you," he promised, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand.

But instead, as you walked towards the house, the weight of the evening's events bearing down on you, you felt Joel's presence beside you. His steps were quiet, but his presence was comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain.

"Hey," Joel said softly, his voice breaking the silence between you. "I'm sorry about back there. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

You glanced sideways at Joel, the warmth of his gaze softening the edges of your frustration. "It's not your fault," you replied, your voice tinged with sadness. "I know you didn't mean to."

Joel fell into a step beside you, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. "I just want you to know that you're the only one for me," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. "No one else matters, not like you do."

“You could have told her about it,” you said, frustration edging into your tone.

Joel's expression faltered slightly at your words, a hint of defensiveness flickering in his eyes. "I didn't think it was necessary," he replied, his tone tinged with irritation. "I didn't want to embarrass her or make things awkward."

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the sting of jealousy and insecurity reigniting in your chest. "But by not saying anything, you made me feel like my feelings didn't matter," you countered, your voice tinged with hurt. "You made me doubt myself; doubt us."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just didn't know how to handle the situation."

The tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressing down on both of you. You wanted to believe Joel's assurances of love and devotion, but the lingering doubts and insecurities threatened to cloud your judgment.

"I need to rest," you said, changing the subject, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Tomorrow, we need to get up early for the patrol.”

“Actually, I’m not coming with you,” he said carefully.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll promise Rachel to...“

The air crackled with tension as Joel's words hung between you, his admission weighing heavily on your heart. Anger flared within you, fueled by hurt and betrayal.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice laced with frustration and disappointment. "Why would you choose her over me?

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with regret. "I’m not choosing her over you; I would never do that," he replied, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't realize it would upset you."

You shook your head, unable to hide your frustration. "You should have talked to me about it first," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You should have considered my feelings."

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Joel, the ache of disappointment echoing within you. As you retreated into the solitude of your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could withstand this latest test or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unresolved conflicts and broken promises.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” you exclaimed as you kept walking.

The next morning dawned with a strong sense of tension in the air, the previous night's events still fresh in your mind. As you awoke from your sleep and began to prepare for the day ahead, the pain of disappointment and deceit chewed at your heart, casting a shadow on the early sun.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside any remaining doubts and concerns, determined to focus on the task at hand. As you approached the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a soothing reminder of Joel's presence.

You discovered him standing by the counter, holding a warm mug of coffee, and preparing a second cup for you. His expression was solemn.

His eyes were downcast, as if weighted down by the events of the night before.

"Morning, angel," he said, his voice tinged with regret, as he gave you the mug. "I made some coffee."

“Thank you, but I’m leaving,” you replied, shortly walking towards the door.

"Angel, wait," Joel called out, his voice pleading as he reached out to gently grasp your arm, halting your departure. His touch was warm against your skin, a silent plea for you to stay and hear him out.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to escape the tension that hung between you and the longing to resolve the issues that had driven a wedge between you and Joel. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

“Take care; you know your safety is the most important thing for me,” he reassured, meeting your sad gaze.

"What a shame you're not going to be there to protect me," you replied bitterly, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. The words spilled out before you could stop them, a reflection of the pain and frustration that churned within you.

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with remorse as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Joel closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with longing and remorse. It was a silent reassurance of his love and commitment, a promise to mend the wounds that had been inflicted upon your relationship.

As the kiss lingered, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. Despite the pain and hurt, you knew that Joel was sincere in his desire to make things right, and you were willing to give him another chance.

Pulling away, Joel met your gaze with a mixture of regret and determination. "We'll talk when you get back," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "I'll be here waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of agreement, you returned Joel's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your shared commitment to each other.

As you and Tommy ventured out on patrol, the rhythm of your footsteps echoed against the deserted streets of Jackson. The tension that had weighed heavily on you began to ease slightly, replaced by a sense of purpose as you focused on the task at hand.

"So, what happened between you and Joel?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you. His voice was filled with concern, and his eyes were studying your expression carefully.

You sighed, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "We had an argument," you admitted reluctantly, the words heavy on your tongue. "I just don't know how to trust him again."

Tommy nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get it," he said softly. "But you have to remember, Joel cares about you more than anything. He'd do anything to protect you, even if he doesn't always show it the right way."

You mulled over Tommy's words, the weight of his reassurance providing some measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty that plagued you. Despite the doubts that lingered in your mind, you knew that, deep down, Joel's intentions were genuine and his love for you was unwavering.

"I know," you replied, a sense of resolve creeping into your voice. "I just need to figure things out."

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with empathy. "You will," he said confidently. "And when you do, Joel will be right there waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of gratitude, you continued on your patrol, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your shoulders but with a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Tommy's support and reassurance, knowing that with his guidance and the strength of your bond with Joel, you would find a way to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

“Of course, you will say nice things about your stupid brother,” you joked.

Tommy chuckled at your jest, the sound carrying through the quiet streets as you continued on your patrol. "Hey, he may be stubborn and thick-headed sometimes, but Joel's got a good heart," he said with a grin. "And he cares about you more than anything."

You couldn't help but smile at Tommy's words, grateful for his unwavering support and his ability to see the best in Joel, even in the midst of conflict. "Thanks, Tommy," you said sincerely, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. "I appreciate it."

Tommy nodded in response, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime," he replied, his voice laced with warmth. "We're family, after all. And family sticks together, no matter what."

As you and Tommy continued your patrol around Jackson, everything was eerily quiet, with the only sound being the subtle crunch of gravel beneath your feet. The weight of insecurity lingered in the air, but you pressed on, determined to do your job and safeguard your town.

A group of people appeared from the shadows unexpectedly, their faces hidden by the night's darkness. Your heart jumped into your throat as you understood the danger that was immediately surrounding you.

You weren't a weak person; in fact, people considered you a powerful fighter, always merciless when it was required and determined to save the ones you cared about, so your instincts kicked in and your senses heightened as adrenaline flowed through veins. Despite the suddenness of the attack, you maintained your composure, guided by your training and expertise.

Until one of them grabbed you and pinned you down, your heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. You struggled against their hold, every muscle in your body tensing as you fought to break free. Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the grip of your assailant remained firm, their strength overpowering.

With a surge of desperation, you summoned all your strength and training, channeling it into a fierce struggle to break free. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding a way to overcome this unexpected obstacle and emerge victorious.

Beside you, Tommy fought valiantly against the other attackers, his determination matching your own as he defended against the onslaught. Though outnumbered and caught off guard, you refused to give in, clinging to the hope that help would soon arrive.

“So, you’re Joel’s Miller girl,” a feminine voice said.

The voice cut through the chaos, freezing you momentarily as you tried to recognize the mocking tone. Despite the tense situation, a surge of anger flared within you at the mention of Joel's name. You refused to let fear or intimidation weaken your resolve.

With renewed determination, you continued to struggle against your assailant's hold, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and survival. Every fiber of your being was focused on breaking free and finding a way to overcome this threat and protect yourself and Tommy.

“Tommy!” you exclaimed, worry creeping up with you.

“I’m fine!” he reassured back.

“What do you want?” You asked the girl, who is now in front of you.

The girl smirked, her eyes filled with venom as she peered down at you, pinned under her. "What do I want?" she said, her voice full of scorn. "I'd like to send a message to your dear Joel. I want him to understand that no one is safe, including his girl."

Her statements enraged your fury, but you kept calm, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of her remarks. "And what message would that be?" you asked, your voice steady despite what was occurring.

As she drew in closer, the girl's smirk deepened, and her eyes took on a malicious glitter. "The message is simple," she stated, her voice low and frightening. "I will take away what he loves.

the most from him, as he did with me.”

“What?” but before you could even realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain through your abdomen.

The sharp pain ripped through your abdomen, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped in shock. A guttural cry of agony escaped your lips as you felt blood seeping from the wound, staining your clothes crimson.

The girl's cruel laughter echoed in your ears as she withdrew the weapon, a twisted smirk of satisfaction twisting her features. "That's the message," she said coldly, her voice dripping with malice.

You didn’t want to die here without seeing the smiles of the people you loved.

Your vision blurred as waves of pain washed over you, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. Through the haze of agony, you fought to stay conscious, your thoughts consumed by a desperate need to survive, to make it back to Joel, to warn him of the danger that now threatened you both.

“Hey, stay with me. I’m taking you to Jackson,” Tommy said desperately, but his voice was just an echo at this time.

The world seemed to spin around you as you fought to hold onto consciousness, Tommy's voice barely registering amidst the haze of pain and confusion. Every fiber of your being screamed in agony, but you refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you.

With a herculean effort, you summoned whatever strength remained within you, clinging to Tommy's words like a lifeline. Through sheer force of will, you forced your eyes to focus, locking onto Tommy's determined gaze as he lifted you into his arms.

The journey back to Jackson was a blur of agony and desperation, with each step sending waves of pain coursing through your battered body. But with every labored breath, you clung to the hope that burned within you—a determination to survive and protect those you loved.

As the walls of Jackson loomed into view, relief flooded through you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. With Tommy's unwavering support, you stumbled towards safety, with the promise of medical aid and the comfort of Joel's embrace urging you forward.

As you were carried through the gates of Jackson, the weight of exhaustion and pain threatened to overwhelm you.

Tommy stepped into Jackson's doors, crying out for help as you lay practically still in his arms. The wound in your stomach was major, and he couldn't shake the thought that you would die as a result of his inability to protect you.

As Tommy stormed through the doors of Jackson, his voice buzzing with desperation, terror spread throughout the neighborhoods. People turned their heads, concerned expressions on their faces, as they saw you almost unresponsive in his arms, crimson blood covering the clothes you were wearing.

A crowd swiftly gathered around Tommy, their alarming murmuring filling the air. Tommy ignored them, focusing entirely on getting you the help you so desperately needed.

As Tommy went towards the improvised infirmary, frantic yells sounded out, requesting the medical attention they had here. His steps were heavy with guilt, and each instant seemed to last forever as he feared the worst.

Finally, the infirmary doors swung open, and a team of medics led by Jackson hurried forward to take you from Tommy's arms. They worked fast and effectively, their expressions serious as they assessed the seriousness of your injury. 

Tommy stood back, his hands quivering with terror and remorse, as he saw the doctor rush into action. He couldn't shake the notion that your condition was a result of his failing to safeguard you from harm.

Joel's heart was tight with fear when he saw a commotion near the infirmary. Without hesitation, he raced towards the crowd, his instincts screaming for him to get to you as soon as possible.

Joel's heart raced in his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd, finally arriving at the infirmary entrance. He saw you, pale and frail, in the arms of the doctors, your life hanging in limbo.

Joel moved forward without hesitation, arms outstretched, reaching for you. "No," he murmured hoarsely, terror and desperation evident in his tone. "Please, don't let her die."

The medics stepped aside, allowing Joel to take you into his arms. As he held you close, he could feel the warmth of your body against his, but it was too still, too fragile. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, silently praying for your recovery.

“Hey, angel,” he murmured, finding strength in his voice. “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, baby, okay? Please, do it!” He continued sobbing as he caressed your hair. “I can lose everything, but not you... Oh god, not you, please?”

Joel kept holding you in his arms, preventing you from going away from him, and you could feel his touch, his care, and his voice pleading with you to stay with him. You wanted that, you wanted so bad, but the strength was dying inside you, and everything you ever knew went black.

You became a lifeless frame in the arms of your biggest love. When you stopped breathing, Joel’s heart stopped beating because, as if it was glass, it shattered.

The look of the doctor and the face of Tommy told them the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, confirming the unthinkable: you were gone. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Joel's world shattered around him. He clung to your lifeless form, his body racked with sobs as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his loss.

"No, no, please," Joel choked out, his voice breaking with grief as he held you close, unwilling to accept the truth of what had just happened. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, his sobs echoing in the silence of the infirmary.

For a moment, time stood still as Joel clung to you, unwilling to let go and unwilling to accept that you were gone. The world around him blurred, and the pain in his heart was too overwhelming to bear.

But as the reality of your loss settled over him, Joel's grief turned to rage, a primal, consuming fury that burned through him like wildfire. With a guttural cry of anguish, he cradled you in his arms, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.

In that moment, Joel felt as if his world had come crashing down around him, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in its wake. He had lost everything—the love of his life, his reason for living, his angel.

And as he held you close, his heart shattered into a million pieces, each one a painful reminder of the love he had lost and the life that had been snuffed out too soon. For Joel, the world had ceased to exist, consumed by the gaping void left in the wake of your passing.

He was never going to kiss you again; he was never going to hold you close at night or wake up to your smile in the morning. The future he had imagined, filled with laughter and love, now lay shattered at his feet.

A few hours later, Joel woke up in your shared bed, and you were sleeping next to him.

Joel's hand extended out to touch you, and a sense of warmth and comfort came over him. For a little while, he felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed peacefully beside him.

But then reality slammed back in like a tidal wave, yanking him from his comfortable state of sleep. His hand gripped the empty air, his fingers wrapping around nothing but chilly emptiness.

Joel's eyes opened abruptly, and he found himself lying in the dimly lit space, alone in the bed that had previously accommodated both of you. The ache in his chest returned with vengeance, a searing pang of anguish piercing his heart as he realized you were no longer alongside him.

Joel let out a deep sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, the memories of the dream still fresh in his mind. It felt so genuine and so vivid that, for a brief minute, he believed you were still alive and with him.

You were gone, taken from him in a cruel twist of fate, and no amount of dreaming could bring you back to him.

It's been a week, and he didn't attend your funeral because he was unable to accept that you were no longer alive.

Until today, when he stepped out of the house, which was surrounded by the flowers that some members of the community had left for you, and walked to your graveyard.

As Joel approached your graveyard, he felt an enormous burden settle over him—the weight of grief and loss that had been his constant companion in the days since your death. The walk appeared longer than it had ever been, with each step weighed down by the weight of his grief.

As he reached the grave, Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of the newly turned earth and the plain headstone traced your name as if it were your face. Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of freshly churned ground, with a simple monument marking your final resting place, acted as a sharp reminder of your absence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you; I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he laid a bouquet of flowers at the foot of the headstone, each bloom a silent tribute to the love and loss he felt in his heart. The scent of the flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the graveyard, a poignant reminder of the fleeting beauty of life and the inevitability of death.

Joel's voice quivered as he spoke, every word heavy with the weight of his despair and sorrow. He kneeled near the grave, his hand resting on the cool surface of the headstone, seeking comfort in the memory of your love.

"I want you to know that it was never me who protected you, but you who protected me," Joel said quietly, his words barely audible above the delicate murmur of the wind through the trees. "You were always the one who gave me strength, who showed me what it meant to love and to be loved."

As Joel spoke, tears streamed down his cheeks, revealing his real and unadulterated grief. At that time, surrounded by the serene tranquility of the graveyard, he felt profound loss, a yawning void that could never be filled.

"But now you're gone," Joel added, his voice breaking with sadness. "And I do not know how to go on without you."

Joel rose to his feet after one final long glance at the headstone, a sensation of purpose coming over him. He may have lost you, but he promised to always carry your love with him, to respect your memory in all he did, and to find a way to move forward, even in the face of his greatest pain.

You were always in every star shining above, in the sky.

He was back in the dimly lit room, with the weight of the grief still over his shoulders, and with trembling hands, he reached for the small camera you had traded, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device.

As he turned it on, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the darkness with a soft glow. And there, displayed before him, was the image he had captured of your sleeping, your peaceful expression a bittersweet reminder of how simply you could make him happy.

With a heavy heart, Joel reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns of your face on the screen. It was as if he could feel your presence beside him.

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he lingered on the image, his heart aching with longing for the touch he could no longer feel. But in that moment, surrounded by memories of you, he found a glimmer of solace, a reminder that though you were gone, your love would always remain.

[venerawrites]

THANK YOU wonderful lovely person for writing for this fandom 😍 so glad you're here!💐

if you feel inspired, may I request some hurt/comfort Sasuke goodness? can be modern au depression or dealing w the aftermath of the truth behind the Uchiha massacre...are there any ways to help him out of a bereft slump or have faith in the future again?

also, your theme and artwork choices are simply gorgeous 🙌🏻 and the delicious angst 🤤

author's note: thank you so much for your beautiful words! I have been waiting to be in the right mood for this one, so I am really sorry you had to wait this long... I really hope you like it, because I always feel like comfort is the hardest for me to write. Thank you for requesting and for the idea! <3

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

Such person was Sasuke Uchiha.

You met him years ago, while he was working for a shady man called Orochimaru and was in pursuit of revenge against his brother. He was not like any boy you've met before: arrogant, proud, constantly tense, and untrusting. Rarely talked about himself, and much preferred to sit in silence, dwelling on his own thoughts, than to voice his feelings and opinions out loud. He always seemed in a hurry, constantly telling you he could stay no longer than an hour before he had to leave again.

To this day you never learned the true intentions behind his visits. The first time it was a simple call for help - sitting on a lone hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers, he easily mistaken your cottage for an abandoned house where he could seek refuge after being badly wounded.

A terrifying surprise was written on both of your faces once you came back home later that afternoon only to find the black-haired ninja bleeding heavily on your bed. You were no medic, but you used your limited knowledge of herbal medicine to help his recovery as much as you could. In return, he spared your life.

He visited irregularly, but often after this. Sometimes he showed up three times per week, and sometimes months passed before you heard from him again. Sasuke never offered any explanation about where he was or what he was doing, instead often justifying his random appearances as his need for alternative treatment for his scars and wound.

The first few times it made you raise your brows in question - you were not an expert healer, all you knew being tales passed down from your grandmother about the properties of a handful of plants. Yet, you never spilled your suspicion out loud to him, instead quietly finding comfort in his presence.

It was strange how well you got along, your shared love for silence and solitude somehow bringing you together. Most of the time you just sat there, next to each other, quietly sipping your tea and staring at the sky.

Sometimes you caught him glancing at you or curiously inspecting all the pictures and books you had on the shelves around your living room, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration, while he tried to put the pieces of your life story together in his mind. He never asked you for more other than your name and your age. You never offered anything more either.

It took a few months after his last visit for you to realize he wasn't coming back and that in the end, he was no more than a stranger to you - you didn't know anything about him other than his name, his birth village, and the fact that he wanted to kill his brother. His motives were never revealed, and his ambitions for the future - never shared.

Despite this, it always felt like he was some form of friend to you. There was a silent understanding that both of you carried too much weight on your shoulders and you did not wish to revisit a painful past by re-telling it, instead finding peace in watching the beauty of the stars up the sky or the birds, who migrated to their new home in the late summer afternoons.

Years have passed since then. What you cherished as meaningful moments soon turned into dusty memories, that never reminded you of him outside your dreams. Life continued, despite time staying still - time always felt frozen when you lived a life by yourself, away from all humanity.

So when you found him one day, glaring at you with red eyes, you were both dumbfounded and terrified. He looked at you in a way that screamed hatred, rage, sadness, and pain. For a second you wondered if they were directed at you.

"I didn't know where else to go."

His voice was the total opposite of how he looked - it was small and weak, almost on the verge of breaking.

You quickly stepped aside, an unspoken invitation for him to come into your home. His feet hurried past you and you closed the door after him, immediately walking toward the kitchen to prepare jasmine tea. His favourite. Sasuke didn't like tea, but there was something about the way you prepared it that always eased both his muscles and his nerves.

After a while you came back, holding two white mugs in your hands, only to find him with his head buried in his hands and his knee shaking violently. You quickly sat next to him, before placing the drinks on the table and turning toward him, instinctively placing your hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

"I did it", he said with a hoarse voice, his head still hanging low, his black locks covering his face from you. There was no need for him to say anything else - these three words were enough for you to understand that he has finally achieved his goal. The result, however, seemed not to be what he hoped for.

"I am sorry."

Sasuke finally raised his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You could see the trail of dry tears covering his cheeks and you easily assumed he must have cried while you were in the kitchen. His lips were twisted in a scowl and he let out an angry breath through his nose.

"I don't need your pity!"

Despite the aggression in his tone, his eyes started to tear up again and he squeezed his eyelids shut in a poor attempt to stop them from falling.

"I have finally learned the truth", he hissed through gritted teeth, "I finally learned why my brother really did it."

The mention of the word "brother" seemed to trigger something in him and the tears started flowing freely from his eyes, while his lips started to mumble incoherent sentences about the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha, and the orders the elders gave to his brother. It was a mess - he kept referring back to his talks with a man named "Madara" while jumping back and forth between the memories of that bloody night and his plans for destroying the Leaf. It took you a while to piece the chronology together, while the feelings he kept bottling for years just kept erupting, reducing what you once knew as a stoic and controlled man, into a sobbing, raging mess on the floor.

It took around an hour for him to finish his story and for you to quietly absorb every detail, while he poured his heart out to you. The hand that was first rubbing soothing patterns on his back, was laying flat in his palm, while his fingers squeezed it for dear life. It almost looked like he was afraid that you were nothing more than a fruit of his imagination and if he let go, you would disappear into thin air and leave him by himself.

"I will destroy them!", the vow was made once there were no more tears left for him to cry, "They will all pay for what they did to my clan! To Itachi! To ME!

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed under your breath, before turning towards him. For the whole time he was here, you didn't comment on anything he told you, but you also didn't have the chance to do so, as Sasuke left no time between his voiced thoughts for you to mutter even a word.

"And then what?", the question surprised him and he turned to you with confused expression.

"What do you mean "then what?"

Pulling your hand away, you tilted your head to the side.

"You are going to destroy your village, sacrificing the innocent lives of many, including your old friends, teammates, and teachers", you thought out loud, moving your eyes toward the old map of the world that hung framed on the wall opposite you, "And then what? The Leaf's allies would without question turn against you, and then you are going to have to destroy them too. A bloody path, that would eventually end either in your early death or in pushing someone else to take your path and seek revenge on you."

The more you talked, the lower his brows were furrowing to the point he was staring at you under the dark shade of his frowning face. His face was almost distorted - switching from extreme emotions of sadness and grief to anger and aggression, his whole expression was now twisted in an almost inhuman grimace, a mixture of all.

"None of them are innocent", he huffed, his jaw working, "They were all enjoying a carefree life, because of the sacrifice of my brother... and even then, they still called him a traitor."

There were no words of rebuttal you could offer. You didn't know his life in the village, nor how the people there behaved. Perhaps, the people living there were monsters, who lacked both heart and soul. But weren't they like that everywhere? You may have lived alone and detached from society, but you had enough contact with traveling ninjas - both rogue and village warriors - to know that they were all often fighting for the same cause, it was just their ideas of how it could be achieved that differed.

"And is that something that he would wanted?"

The man lifted his knee and rested his arm on top of it. He seemed to contemplate your question, the muscles on his face twitching every few seconds.

"No", the truth came out as a disappointed sigh. His fingers clenched and you could hear his teeth gritting, before he looked at you with cold eyes.

"But I am not him! I won't repeat the same mistakes!"

Holding his gaze felt almost like staring into the eye of a brewing storm. The determination that he radiated hinted that this is was just the beginning - he still had more hate and more anger to give to the world.

"Yet you seem to repeat your own mistakes over and over", the challenge was bold and even he seemed taken aback. Sasuke rarely got people opposing him - other than Naruto, who always had to have a contrasting opinion - but usually his ideas were met either with encouragement or with silence. His own team was either too scared or too busy with their own worries to question him and his motives, often just nodding their heads at whatever he said.

A dry chuckle left his lips before he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Every time he came he was met with the comfort of silence, your bond built entirely on the feeling of the safety he felt every time he visited. Now he wondered if that bond was even real - never had he expected that you would actually talk so much, let alone NOT support him.

He imagined that he would just come here, you would make him his favourite tea... and he didn't know what he was thinking when he came here. He didn't plan to tell you any of the truth he learned about his clan's death and Itachi, yet the sentences just kept spilling out of his body, almost like he had no control over it.

"What do you know?", he scoffed, giving you a mocking look, "You live here alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."

Sasuke suddenly leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

"What exactly do you know about the world or even about living? The gravest mistake you probably made was to put too much water in your stupid tea. You know nothing about pain or the real world out there! You know nothing about having everything taken away from you!"

Your expression hardened. You held his furious stare, bravely accepting his poisonous words, which cut deeper and deeper into your soul. Once he finished talking, his breath was rigid once again.

"You will be no different than them", you stated blankly and the man grumbled in response, "The people who pushed your brother to commit these crimes. And I know deep down, you realise that too... Because somewhere out there there is a little kid, who just like you will one day waste his whole life chasing you, dreaming of punishing you, till they become just like you. And the cycle will continue."

His eyes were now back to his original onyx colour, yet the burning sensation they brought to your insides was just the same.

"I didn't come here for you to offer me lessons of morality."

"Why did you come then?"

No answer.

"I offer you nothing, but my honesty", you continued, standing up from your seat, "If you are here to seek support and encouragement for your plans of destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people, you are in the wrong place."

It was definitely a mistake visiting you. He should've known better. Why you, of all people, would understand him?

Grabbing his stuff, he followed your figure into the kitchen. You seemed unbothered by his looming presence behind you, instead focusing on washing the two empty cups. Once you were done, you just rested your hands on the counter, facing the big kitchen window that overlooked the forest. If it wasn't for the faint breathing sound, you would have thought he had left.

"There is light inside you, Sasuke", you finally said, "And no matter how hard you try to fight it, it is there. Don't try to kill it! Use it and spread it in order to bring the change you want to see."

"You don't know me!"

"Maybe not as much as I would like", you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes still gazing at the trees whose branches danced elegantly under the wind, "But I know if you were really that heartless, as you like me to think, you would've drawn that katana you rest your hand on a long time ago."

Sasuke moved his fingers away as if the handle of his weapon suddenly burned his skin and his head dropped low. How did you know, when your back was facing him the whole time?

Before he could raise his question, you started walking toward the door, waving your hand after you.

"Come!"

Not leaving any time for an answer, your form was already outside by the time he could register your simple command and follow it. He was not one to do what others told him to, but his body seemed to act on its own, his steps echoing after yours before his mind could protest.

The man found you sitting on your front steps, a place where you and he have shared countless late nights, just gazing at the sky above you. Like a habit, he sat next to you, easing into the comfort of your old routine without further questioning.

"This area was a village back when my parents were children. It was a small one - only a handful of farmers and herb gatherers", Sasuke looked at you in surprise, before scanning the area. He had never paid attention to the surroundings of your home, noting only the existence of a forest on the right and a large meadow on the left. Now, on a closer inspection, he could see the remaining stones and paths, which were half-covered by moss and too strategically placed around to be just random rocks.

There were remaining memories of buildings now long gone.

"My grandmother always said that our ancestors were tasked with the responsibility to restore what the Great Nations destroyed", you continued, bringing his attention back to you, "Where the ninja waged war, we followed to take care of the land and bring it back to life. Where the villagers left burned forests after they sought new places to build, we moved to these places to protect the balance between the human world and the natural one."

Sasuke listened patiently, his brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you getting with this story? And more importantly, where were all these people you talked about?

Almost like you've read his mind, your head turned toward him with a small sad smile on your lips.

"Our communities have been destroyed dozens of times and they rebuilt themselves just as many. This village was destroyed before I was even born by a conflict between the Land of Wind and the Land of River, one which had nothing to do with the hard-working people who were guilty only of trying to take care of the forest and wildlife", you looked towards your crossed fingers in your lap, suddenly overwhelmed of the sad destiny your family must have suffered.

"There is no greater sin than the arrogance of a man blinded by revenge. Shinobi keep waging wars with each other, each drop of blood they spill being with price of at least one innocent life. And they keep destroying, blinded by their hate, claiming that they only want to "save the world"", suddenly grabbing his arm, you pointed at the trees with your other hand, before dragging it across the air to the meadow, "But look!"

The onyx eyes followed the movement of your finger, before they rested on your face unimpressed.

"Look at what? Trees and grass?"

You huffed at his words, rolling your eyes.

"You are blind, Sasuke!", your forefinger poked his temple a few times and you could feel him stiffen under your touch, "You watch, but you don't see! It is not just trees and grass!"

When he offered no other reply than a small curling of his lips downwards, you gently grabbed his chin and forcefully turned it ahead again.

"It is life! A life born out of destruction, out of pain", your hand gestured around you once again, "The truth is the world doesn't need saving! It has existed for many, many years before us and will exist for many, many years after us. It is us, humans, that need saving... and not by more blood spilling or fear, or hate, or whatever other false values they try to teach you in your ninja academies."

His muscles finally started to relax under your touch, while he kept staring ahead, finally understanding the meaning of the words that you were saying. The slow realization that destroying Konoha is not the medicine for his bleeding soul was slowly creeping into his mind, suddenly making him confused and unsure.

"What if we can't be saved?", the heavy doubts that kept holding him down finally came to the surface, "What if we just... keep destroying?"

You looked at him in silence, before finally letting go of his arm. The sudden removal of warmth made him involuntarily shiver.

"We will keep destroying", you finally answered, pressing your tongue inside your cheek in thought, "I guess it is in our nature! But we will also rebuild. And we will learn from our past mistakes, making sure that we will not repeat them again."

Signing, you turned toward him, before reaching out for his hand again. All his life, Sasuke always thought he hated physical touch, but now it felt right. It felt like it was a silent promise that everything will somehow be alright.

"Do not go down the same path of hatred, Sasuke. Your destination will keep being the same, no matter how hard you try to avoid it", the corners of your lips curved slightly upwards, "Your pursuit for a better world is noble, but you can't do it alone! The same way this forest and meadow did not just pop in one day by themselves - it took years for them to grow, helped by bees, the birds, and even the wind and the rain... They all did their own part. The same way you need to do yours, alongside your friends."

The silence that followed was long, yet comfortable. His fingers wrapped around your palm, keeping your hand in his, while his mind considered the truth you just spoke. There was a part inside of him - the one that was still hurt and crying - that wanted to convince him that it was all just an empty talk. That he should not give up what he already started.

Another part, however, what seemed to be a louder one and for some reason sounded a lot like his brother's voice in his head, was agreeing with you, shifting the perspective he was looking from.

A long time passed till he spoke again.

"Promise me", there was no trace of anger on his face anymore, just tiredness, "That you will always be clear and honest with me."

You couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips.

"I promise."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years have passed since the end of the war and Sasuke was once again on the road, this time accompanied by Sakura. Their final destination was unclear, but the first stop was already set in his mind - the cottage sitting on a hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers. He has not seen you since that night you opened his eyes to what is really important, but the thought of you never left his mind.

The woman next to him, who still had an unclear status between a teammate and friend, kept trying to make him share where were they going, but was often met either with just silence or with the simple explanation of "someone important". The description make her a bit uneasy, wondering who could have such an impact on Sasuke to want to check on them first thing after he was allowed to leave, but she did not question further, still unsure of how far the man's boundaries lie.

Once they got to the hill, however, her uneasiness grew.

"Sasuke, there is nothing here", she said, looking around the vast field that bordered a forest nearby, "Are you sure that person lived here? Maybe they moved?"

The man did not reply, his body being frozen in place. You were gone, the house was gone, it was just wild nature. He suddenly tensed, once he felt Sakura's hand laying flat between his shoulder blades and running small circles on top of the clothed skin.

Just like you did that night.

Sasuke made a few steps further, before kneeling and touching the ground. While looking the same as the rest at first glance, the grass covering the area where he vividly remembered your house being seemed different... almost greener, yet smaller.

A small parchment of paper poked out of the dirt next to his fingers and he carefully lifted it, revealing a burnt part of the world map that hung on your wall once. The majority of it was gone, but he could clearly make out the names of the Land of Wind, The Land of Rivers, and the Land of Fire. Right in the middle, was a small drawing of a few houses - an indication of where your community once resided. Where you once were.

Sakura peered over his shoulder, looking at the piece of paper with interest.

"There still don't seem to be any indication for a building being here", she noted, before kneeling next to him and caressing the grass with her fingers, "This part of the field was grown by someone. Look, it is a different shade and size from the rest! It is like someone tried to cover the area."

Sasuke stood up, eyes still focused on the piece of paper. There was one, just a brief pencil line, that started from the drawn houses and continued up, till it ended at the burnt end. The man has stared at least a hundred times at the map in your house and he could swear he has never seen this line on it.

"You must have used it to plan where to leave next", he thought to himself. Because deep down he knew you were not dead - everything was left too perfect, including planting seeds in the place which you used to occupy, for him to believe you had met your end.

No, you had to be somewhere out there, rebuilding what shinobi like him have destroyed during the war.

He turned his head toward the sun, watching it slowly dip beyond the horizon. His fingers put the paper in his pocket, before he turned to Sakura, informing her they have to go and find an inn before it gets too dark.

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

And for Sasuke, such person was you.

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

[maliciousblog]

Hide and Seek Part 2

Warning: It gets dark towards the end read at your own discretion.

You didn't know how long you were held here the hours all melted together into one miserable nightmare.

The nauseating smell of the cabin he held you in became all too familiar to you.

You would have run away much earlier if not for the mangled state of your leg.

The wounds had healed leaving behind four long gashes that scarred your foot.

You were lucky to be able to walk again given the trap went through your flesh narrowly missing the bone encased within.

Your captor on the other hand was more than happy to help you around it was sickening

how much he dotted on you.

The way he would continue to carry you around even though you were well enough to walk around by yourself.

You didn't really have a say in the matter you were his little bunny his pet to do as he pleased and he made sure you were aware of your place.

The days he would take you down to the basement of the cabin. As he opened the hatch leading down the stench of death assaulted your nose the metalic stench clung to the air seeping into your clothes the smell would often linger even once you were out of the hell pit he called a basement where he kept the bodies of his victims.

He prepared to hunt them down like animals

Which ever unlucky hiker was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

He was methodical in his actions.

He would taunt them.

Toying with them it gave him some sick kind of pleasure seeing the looking of fear in their eyes when they realise that they aren't alone but they can't make who or what exactly is keeping them company.

He would saviour the moments as his prey slowly start to lose their minds at every little snap of a twig or a chrip of a bird.

The cherry on top was when they realised that they weren't going to make it out alive.

He loved watching the light die out of their eyes as they took their last breath.

It was sick sadistic game he liked to play.

He would near them then move away creating distance in a pathetic attempt to give them hope that they just might get away only to crush it in an instant as they got trapped in his web.

He did the same with you as well but you realised that he treated you as more of a pet rather than prey occasionally even using you as bait to lure in unsuspecting idiots.

But never let them get too close to you.

In a way he was protective of your growing fond of you as the time passed.

It sure didn't fell that way to you.

In your mind you were just another one of his play things kept around to amuse him when he was bored.

There were ocassional moments of tenderness amongst the violence that you shared.

When he would brush out and braid your hair before you slept or when he would of so gentle massage in lotion onto your skin leaving behind a faint scent of strawberries his personal favourite was when he would cuddle up to you by the fire place as you read to him.

In these moments he didn't seem like the monster he truly was.

In the faint glow of the fire his feathers appeared softer than they were an almost angelic gentleness to them. As he hummed as you read occasionally reaching up to place with your fingers resting his head on your lap as he guided your hand to brush over his head gently massaging his scalp.

The situation you were almost seemed normal.

To a person looking in from a window both of you almost seemed like a couple in love.

Even though that was the farthest thing from reality.

Maybe you had started to lose your mind as well.

When you looked down on his face his features relaxed as he was asleep in your lap.

You couldn't clearly make out what you felt for him was it anger for having killed your friends and holding you hostage, was it fear after witnessing what he was capable of or was it a third more dreadful thing love. Had he really broken you so badly that you had begun to care for him. The mere thought of that sent chills down your spine.

If you loved him you were no better than him.

No you couldn't let him get the best of you

You had to escape of atleast try to.

By now you had familiarised yourself with his patterns.

Most days when the weather was good he would go out for a couple of hours to collect fire wood and supplies.

That was your window of opportunity.

If you played your cards right that would give you a window of time short enough to escape or make it far enough to escape.

As long as your plan worked.

Most days he went out he would chain you up in the basement.

When he was at home he let you roam around upstairs if you were good.

Before he left you forced yourself to throw up convincing him that it was just a stomach bug and that you could use with some fresh air.

He let you stay upstairs given how sickly you looked.

You had become weak in his imprisonment loosing your appetite and and sleep resulting in deep bags under your eyes.

He knew that you couldn't really take getting sicker so he let you stay in your room.

Locking up the cabin as he drove his truck out into town to stock up for supplies.

As you saw his truck move further out of sight.

He slowly slipped out from under the covers.

Grabbing the ice pick up had stolen from the basement on one of your visits down

Angling it to the the end of the glass striking it till it shattered.

The opening was small enough for you to squeeze through but the shards of glass.

Cut into your skin as you worked your way out of the cabin.

You didn't know where to go but one thing was sure you had to make it as far away as you possibly could from this hell hole.

Picking a direction you ran .

The farther the distance the greater the chance of your escape.

Your could fell the twigs and leaves scraping at your skin.

While you felt fire in the muscles of your legs as the propelled you forward. Followed by the stabbing sensation on the side of your body.

Your body was shutting down.

The captivity he had subjected you to had taken a toll on your body making you weak.

The breath shortening in your body.

You had been running for a while now surely you could take a couple of minutes to gather your and slow down your breath.

Well that was your second mistake.

The first was tripping the motion sensors that he had hidden around the cabin and the trees surrounding the area.

He knew you had ran the second you lept out the window.

He just let you run because he found it amusing.

Watching his little bunny hop around in hopes of freedom only for him to hunt you down and devour you whole.

It was almost nostalgic reminded him of the night he had taken you the first time.

The image of your fear struck face was etched in his mind.

He got giddy with excitement each time he remembered it.

But this little cat and mouse game was getting drawn out a little too much.

Living in the woods he has memorized every turn he knew it like the back of his palm.

It was only a matter of time before he found you.

When he caught up to your steps were faltering your pace slowed by fatigue.

He watched you stagger around like a predator watching it's prey.

Enjoying watching the struggle of his prey.

Turning a corner taking a shortcut he stood concealed in the trees.

Watching as you ran right into his arms.

Before you could even turn around as you recognised his face staring right back at you.

His hands reached out in a bone crushing grip.

Another shooting up to your scalp dragging right back to where you came from.

Your pleas of desperation begging him to loosen his grip fell onto deaf ears as he dragged you across the forest floors.

A string of apologies followed it was like you were experiencing the five stages of greif as he dragged you back.

Finally accepting defeat as you could see the border of his cabin in sight.

Once inside he flug you onto the group your head colliding with the hardwood floor letting out a sickening crack.

You could feel warm liquid ooze out wetting your hair.

Your vision bluring out as the white hot pain seared through your skull.

You were about to pass out.

As you felt the back of his hand connect to your cheeks pulling you back into consciousness.

"Don't you go blacking out on me now sweetheart. You have a whole night of pain ahead of you.

If you are good maybe a little pleasure too.

Everything was going so well."

At this point he had you pinned beneath him straddling your hips rendering you motionless beneath him.

You let out a string of apologies to appease him.

He just looked down at you with hidden eyes holding nothing but anger.

" Why did you have to ruin it bunny.

I let you live , I gave you a place to stay , food to eat and how do you repay me?.

By being an ungrateful brat.

How about I give you a little brat of your own.

To bind you with me forever.

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. You would look so pretty all swollen.

I bet you'd make a great mother.

We could have a few little brats run around sound fun right?.

You and me and our little family."

The realisation left you petrified. You were never going to make it out of here alive.

Forever bound to this maniac.

Just another one of his victims but unlike the others who died quickly he would torture you for the rest of your miserable little life.

You heard his belt hit the ground bringing you back to reality this time it wasn't like the times he had taken you before which were tender and almost loving.

No this time he was on a mission he barely even looked at you as tears ran down your face only occasionally looking up to wipe them away and to whisper insults in your ear about how stupid you had been trying to run away.

A dumb bunny will always fall prey to the sly fox.

The slick between your legs doing nearly nothing to ease his entry as he split you open with his girthy manhood.

Jack hammering into your swollen cunt.

His hand roaming your body ripping off any fabric that hid your skin from him leaving you naked as the cold nipped at your skin.

He placed warm kisses on your exposed skin devouring it like a man who had been starved for days.

Leaving behind purplish brusies.

His other hand rubbing circles around your clit.

Until you were about to come undone for him.

He engulfed your mouth in a sloppy kiss swallowing your moans as you came around him.

You could feel his own pace begging to falter as his thrust because sloppy and desperate.

Letting himself go with a grown still not stopping even after he came determined to make sure his cum coated your insides.

The over stimulation making you shiver as he made sure you were full of him.

He moved off you and collapsed beside you.

" I think that did the trick. What do you think bunny. Feeling full yet. Im sure you can take a couple more loads.

We have the whole night to see just how much you can take."

[chronicroderick]

Forever Winter

Hannibal's mind is a dark place. There are some doors even he can't keep shut, and he's grown far too weary to keep trying.

Hurt/Angst, NO Fluff, Suicid3, Self-H@rm NO Happy Ending, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Tw: s3lfh@rm and suicid3

(I'm going through something you guys so read at your own risk. No one wrote any Hannibal stuff that was sad enough for my mood so you're welcome)

***

Hannibal wasn't going to kill himself. That would be idiotic, but god, did it feel like he wanted it. He flipped through story after story, endlessly searching for something short to read that held as much angst as he held in this moment. Anything to colour the walls of his mind as vibrant and red as the inside of his stomach felt. It was a deep, nauseous feeling. Hannibal wanted to throw up and screaming and rip out his hair as much as he wanted to curl into a ball under the deepening snow never to return. He would decay there, becoming one with the worms, the mushrooms, the moss, however it was too cold for any of those things, so he would likely just be mummified. Maybe that would not be so bad. It must be nice to be cool all the way to the core. It is that warmth near the centre that makes us so afraid of the ice.

The straight razor did not magically appear in his hand as it surely would have been described in some languid novel. Those long legs of his had carried him every heavy step across the room. Her bare toes had sunk into the carpet. Each finger now curling around the hilt of the tool was certain. Strong. Even as the rest of the limb trembled.

Just a cut. Just a deep, long, gushing cut.

When he could see the blood pouring out, then he would feel better. When he could feel the droplets wrapping around his wrist then there might be some silence. Then he would not feel as if he was rotting. It was a played out cliche though. There was already a meandering length of deep scar tissue on his wrist from the other times. As he lay in his bed they itched. Setting the razor down he sighed, rolled onto his stomach, and drifted off to sleep, if you could call it that. It was more of a lurch between bouts of wakefulness.

With a slow start he woke and squinted into the glaring face of his alarm clock. It was three in the morning. There was no darkness outside, the city lights would not allow it. Neither would the snow. It created a haunting glow, a fake daylight that seemed to torment him in a way that no one else would understand. Hadn’t that been his blight lately? What would be the use in opening up about something that would seem for all his follies, like a torture chamber of his own making?

They would sympathise and pander. They would urge him to seek professional help. They would ask what happened to Dr. DuMauier, why had he relinquished her if he was not certain that things were going to be okay?

Because how could he know? When your life is an endless walk into a dreary night you are most happy when all you have is sure footing. “At least the ground is soft now. At least the climb has lessened in steepness.” Those are as close as things get to happiness. Hannibal, with all the mental capabilities he possesses, finds himself forever at the threshold of death.

So it is here he finds himself, in front of the full length mirror of his bedroom, leaning against the foot of his bed, straight razor in hand once again. It is quite beautiful. They’ll think him vain for choosing it. Intricate handle, a small bee crafted into the side, furling leaves travelling up until they meet the hinge. The neck of the blade tapered, until it goes out into a fat rectangle, where the true blade begins. Sharp enough to shave without effort, though that was never this tool's job. It had always been to slice flesh. Set in the nightstand drawer, never too far out of reach, not necessarily in plain sight. It was always there. Waiting. Afterall, it served it’s purpose. Dr. Lecter could not go about his life with an infected wound. Though the sting of something so sharp was not quite as satisfying in the moment as it always was in his memory, the ache of an alcohol wipe of the severed flesh was superb every time.

So this time he sat. Sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and fuck he wanted to break things. A ghost of himself rose, ripped the mirror off the back of the door, and ripped the blankets off his bed. It knocked every bottle of cologne, every figurine, every watch off the dresser in one fell swoop. The ghost tore the paintings off the wall, punched holes in the door, ripped the drawers out of the nightstand and tore his suit jackets off their hangers, before it slumped against the wall. Tired and alone. A trembling thing, eyes big. Scared. Hopeless.

The ghost lingered in the corner as Hannibal came back to himself. It faded into nothing. Into dust and shapes and colours.

There was only the blade. There were only his eyes in the mirror. Golden. His pupils black holes, turning him inside out. The universe is observing itself. Realising its own emptiness. There was no denying this was Hannibal trying to give himself a back door one last time. Truly, a hanging would be more thorough. Kick the chair far enough away and no one can save you, not even yourself. Slit your wrists? Perhaps you’ll be able to jam your tendon slashed fingers down on the buttons hard enough to dial 9-1-1. The thought made him chuckle.

Hannibal held the knife over his right wrist and drew down into it in one hard, slow line. It didn’t bleed for half a second, as if the veins were surprised by the exposure. After their initial shock they came running. He was not yet done with the cut, travelling quite a ways across the forearm. He could actually hear the skin tear. He could hear the difference it made this time, the difference between his skin and his muscle. It was almost sickening. His blood felt cold. It ran in rivets as it welled out. So strange. It hurt, hurt badly. He couldn’t move his fingers anymore and his first thought was he’d done it.

He’d done it!

It poured and it poured. Hannibal lapped at the blood, as he had done so many times before when that blade had dug into his arm, but not like this. No, never like this. A viper turned in his stomach as the copper taste coated his tongue. There was so much more than usual. It was always a taste here. A few licks there. Some cuts that could be passed off as accidents but not this time.

Opening his eyes, letting the moment of ecstasy wash away, the world tilted. It made him sway, his eyes trying to focus as his head seemed to spin. Hannibal’s eyes dragged up the form of his own reflection in the mirror, which seemed to blur around the edges. Those slim legs, knees poking against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. The way a bit of his love handle peeked out from the scrunched up tank top he was clad in. It gave a nice shape to his shoulders, let a bit of chest hair peek out from the scoop of the neck, and yet it was stained with a blossoming flower of dark red. As were his pajama bottoms. What a terrible outfit to be found in. At least then they could not say he was faking, nor was he vain. Ha! He let the razor clatter to the floor before laying back onto the silk sheets. They felt so warm, so soft, he could hear Misha laughing, he could feel the tickle of Will's dogs' all around him, his mother held him against her. He didn't worry so much about being alone.

There would be no note. It was a little depressing. No note. He was such an eloquent writer and yet there would be nothing said at the very end. Maybe the ending said enough.

[sweetthepotato]

The Final Pillar: Chapter 17: Revelations in the Dark

Disclaimer

Masterpost

Chapter 16

Chapter Summary

Emotions run high. Old wounds are re-opened. Our characters learn that trust is a delicate thing.

Contents

Chapter features a traumatic response, which may be triggering to those who are affected by physical violence, scars, etc. If these issues affect you, you're more than encouraged to seek help.

‘What the…?’

Sanemi came to in the middle of the night, his eyes adjusting to the pitch darkness. As his sight became clearer, he noticed that he was in the middle of a room, with a tatami floor and walls that were made of solid, brown wood. The wind was howling loudly outside whatever building he was in, and yet Uzui was there with him, his eyes closed, and brows knitted together.

He sat up, slowly, recognising the dull, thrumming ache at the back of his head.

‘Uzui, you bastard, tell me why we’re in a villa.’

The Sound Hashira slowly opened his eyes and blinked once, then twice. He stared blankly at the white-haired man, whose own violet eyes winced in confusion. The man’s cantankerousness appeared to dull down a touch, which was an unusual change, he considered.

‘You tried to mess with our new kouhai, Shinazugawa,’ he breathed a sigh, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration or his present undercurrent of amusement, ‘And then she ended up booking a room for the three of us.’

The younger of the two startled, a sudden sense of clarity washing over him, ‘The fuck?’

‘You were knocked out and you can hear her training outside even now. I haven’t been able to sleep well since.’

Sanemi focused his hearing on the sounds occurring outside the walls of the building. He noticed the familiar schwing of a nichirin blade, but that was it. As the wind howled, the hashira thought it was so loud, it almost sounded like a group of people screaming from a distance.

--

Shinazugawa remained still and unconscious, but as Kagome rolled him over to his side, she just so happened to look up through the branches of his hiding place.

‘Uzui-senpai,’ she called, her voice much softer below, ‘I should’ve realised sooner that you were watching.’

She said that, but it was as if even his shinobi skills didn’t match up to the girl’s perceptiveness. With a sigh, he jumped down from his branch and landed in front of her.

‘You young slayers are too serious, you know.’ Staring at the girl, he noted with some relief that her skin had now cleared up from being away from the wisteria. Her hair still looked comical, though, with her eyes covered by locks of wispy, brown hair that stuck out at various angles.

Head tilted to the side, her mouth scrunched up in thought, seriously considering his quip, ‘Senpai, I’m not sure if I want to know about how you think young slayers are supposed to act.’

At least the pouting is somewhat cute, he mused, despite his kouhai’s very apparent bluntness. ‘Did the Kazebashira here try something again?’

‘He might’ve, but I don’t think he was very good at it,’ she stated quite simply, making him swallow a chuckle, ‘I don’t think he’d be very happy when he wakes up, though.’

‘And what are you thinking of doing with our dear old Sanemi Shinazugawa, then, Kagome?’

Her lips pulled further to the side, as if halfway through a groan, but then her face gradually smoothed over. After a moment’s pause, she spoke. ‘I probably shouldn’t leave him here, so if you help me carry him, I can pay us all a room at any place of your choosing,’ she offered. ‘...So long as they have ample grounds for training.’

--

The young man stepped onto the training grounds, just outside the foyer of the villa. True to Uzui’s style, it was large and appeared expensive as all fuck, so much so that he almost pitied the girl’s finances. The architecture was decorated with wooden awnings, which added to the internal abacus in his mind, which was working overtime to calculate the price. Every time his eyes passed over a tree, bush, or, hell, even a statue, the numbers continued to rise. The exclusivity of the villa was clearly exacerbated by the trappings of some kind of Western influence, which was rare even in this part of the country. The exterior of the building was covered with some sort of criss-cross adornments along the wall, plaster contrasting incredibly with the wood.

Distracted by the immensity of the building, Sanemi accidentally stepped onto a trip wire, triggering a series of shuriken to fly towards his general direction.

‘The fuck?!’ He shouted, luckily dodging all the weapons, which were most likely coated in a specific type of poison.

Uzui looked at him with a long, exasperated expression. With a wave of his hand, he indicated the multitudes of trip wire strewn about the grounds. Even in the dark, the bejewelled man looked as if he’d aged more than a few years in the short time they spent outside their room. ‘Our kouhai bade me make traps for her while she trained blindfolded,’ he began, sighing, ‘She mentioned something about you ripping up some kind of science book and knocking down a bandanna.’

The Wind Hashira’s eyes struggled to find the demon spawn in the midnight blue of the night sky, but they finally landed on the girl’s slip of a figure. She was flitting between weapons of various sizes, while her own nichirin blades, a teal-coloured katana and wakizashi, were used for throwing, swiping and striking type moves. Despite most likely not being able to tell where the projectiles came from, he could see that the Nightmare user appeared to be proficient enough to be evading the weapons, except-

‘-Do you see it too, Shinazugawa? I’ve been wanting to ask her about a lot of things, but that girl is worse with training than even Tokito.’

Probably due to the whole fucking demon thing, he thought snidely. But then again, he couldn’t sense much in terms of a demon’s essence in her, and so he peered at their newest member, perplexed at her fighting style. He noted the screaming sound in the air, and realised that this was the noise her blades actually made when swung at a high velocity. Tossing her katana in the air for the third time, she caught the blade by its handle and struck a smoke bomb with her wakizashi. Lucky for her, it didn’t smell so much like the Sound Hashira’s usual wisteria poison.

‘Her moves…’ he huffed, ‘If this is what the Nightmare Hashira presents us with, then she’s setting herself to die the moment she fights a Twelve Kizuki.’

‘Really?’ Uzui responded with a low hum, ‘I’m not sure. I can see why she was promoted to our rank, though… to me, it’s almost as though these are the beginnings of moves someone only like her can make. So, considering the issue before about Kagome not wanting to bleed… something doesn’t add up to me.’

Sanemi narrowed his eyes at his Sound Breathing colleague, exhaling a harsh stream of air from his nostrils. ‘Even more reason not to trust her,’ he concluded.

‘I don’t think that’s the problem here,’ Uzui sighed.

--

In the end, Kagome couldn’t find the cognitive nor emotional space to entertain more reading. In her training, she succeeded in activating and dodging all of Uzui’s traps. By controlling her Breathing carefully, she managed to walk up the stairs to their shared room without completely collapsing.

Despite the whole afternoon and evening she spent with herself, she was wary of Shinazugawa observing her during her training session. It confirmed that he was now awake in the villa, and that created a million-trillion options of how the rest of the night was going to be for her. What she intended to do, however, was find a suitable change of clothes from her satchel in preparation for a bath.

Inhaling a short breath, she slid open the shoji, and found both of her senpai amid her belongings. Growling, she felt her carefully arranged composure slip. She shoved the door shut with a hefty thud, notifying both men that she, too, was a witness to what they were doing.

‘What the fuck,’ she said flatly, the voice that wasn’t fully her own, nor Shizu’s comforting presence, thrumming in the background of her throat. After a period without an answer, she felt the long-simmering, slumbering sensation of resentment burn within her chest, ‘If you’re wanting to ask something, fucking do it now before I walk away.’

Tengen contemplated the expression that embedded itself in the young pillar’s face. This was the most evocative he’d seen her in the short time he got to know her. In this moment, he realised that this was the first real time she’d worn anything other than the picture of neutrality on her face. His hands accidentally brushed against the material of a fresh uniform, strewn against the woven grass of the tatami, and he chided himself internally for letting things go this far.

Shinazugawa, on the other hand, smirked at this new Kagome. ‘Got a problem?’

‘Yes,’ her mouth curled, twisting into a snarl, ‘Many, actually. First, you ruined my reading. Second, you attacked me with your nichirin blades. Now, you’re invading my privacy with your hand clutching my dead cultivator’s mask, so go fuck yourself.’

He might’ve imagined it, but he thought he heard the man initially splutter for a few microseconds.

‘I still fail to see the issue, demon spawn.’

The girl gave a low growl, flash-stepping in front of the Wind Hashira. ‘If this is about bleeding, or you stabbing me, or cutting my fucking head off, then I’ll fucking show you, you asshole,’ ripping off her haori, she began to fumble with the top button of her shirt. The gold metal eventually popped out of its hole, leaving the top of her Corps uniform undone. She went down to the third button until she was too fed up and tore at the front of her shirt. Her nails, suddenly sharpened, then pulled at her shoulders until they, too, were bare.

Now feeling exposed, the gazes coming from the two pillars almost impaled the top layers skin of her almost bare torso. She felt them cut deeply, through the scarred flesh of her right shoulder, to the gouging wound on her left abdomen. She felt a similar pain as she did not too long ago, the searing yet to be healed by time.

The Sound Hashira noticed that the girl’s hackles raised at the back of her head. Her teeth grinded together as she spoke again, ‘Did you know that a prerequisite for any half-demon existing is that they also be a marechi, senpai?’

Shinazugawa breathed in sharply, his eyes widening.

‘There are different types of marechi, as you should be aware. More than any other marechi, a demon who consumes someone else with their tainted blood would gain more power than they would any full human…’ She seethed, ‘The scent is so recognisable, so hard to resist, that it acts as a homing beacon for demons to attack anyone it touches…’ She paused, giving him enough time to process her words, her embittered sneer distorting the shape of her lips, ‘And that is the reason why I don’t bloodlet without needing to.’

Tengen perceived the girl with horror, an understanding forming despite his petrification from earlier. The word ‘ugly’ didn’t even begin to describe the lesions that bloomed through the girl’s body, and he’d seen some of the worst kinds of injuries in the time he’d been alive. Her skin looked as if parts of it had been gouged out, and the rest of the wounds seemed to cascade into large, grotesque-looking bubbles across her shoulder and abdomen. Any other person more emotional than him would want to weep. It was an uncomfortable revelation, and he felt something dark stirring from inside his gut, ‘Who gave you those scars, Kagome?’

The unhappy smile brunette returned was a swift cause for his regret. She scoffed bitterly at the both of them, the answer seemingly too obvious for her to provide much of an answer. But there it was, the puff of an exhale that filled in the void of painful silence.

‘I’ve had worse over my time as a demon slayer, Uzui-senpai, but nichirin blades are a special case,’ she began, and the bejewelled man’s thoughts rushed what she had yet to say. ‘For any run-of-the-mill demon, such blades won’t have much of an effect, unless the neck is struck…’

…Except for her, he inferred, because there was a part of her that remained very much human, despite what some others would prefer to believe.

‘These…?’ She continued, ‘Who else would have access to our blades? I’m not sure, exactly, what they were planning, but I suppose I should be grateful to them, shouldn’t I?’

‘Why?’ He asked stormily, his voice unintentionally reflecting a modicum of his kouhai’s pain. He had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer already, but he had to hear it come out of her mouth. He had to make sure.

She stared at him, with the dead, aghast eyes that belonged more in the sockets of a walking corpse than a young girl. The moment her monotone voice sounded out again, her neutrality returned to her, he noticed how her irises lit up like a fuse. Her arms, dangling at her sides, trembled so slightly that it didn’t appear as though the brunette noticed.

This was that hashira meeting all over again, he realised.

Eventually, she let out a prolonged, exasperated breath, her pent-up frustration dying down in its apparent futility. The shaking stopped, but the anger continued to burn behind the black coal of her pupils.

‘It was their actions that made me the hashira I am, after all.’

The proceeding quiet was deafening. It lasted too long for just about anyone’s liking, but eventually, Kagome found the strength within herself to move.

With little opposition from the younger white-haired man, she snatched her mask away from Shinazugawa’s grasp. Striding numbly to the heart of the room, she scooped up her patched up yukata and undergarments, conveniently located near Tengen’s outstretched arm.

Completely drained of emotional energy, she padded her way out of the doorframe, in the direction of the baths downstairs.

--

The Sound Hashira contemplated his kouhai’s outburst in silence. He thought, wryly, that this was the absolute worst kind of situation where a girl would randomly rip her top off. He found himself reciprocating her indignant anger, though, and it boiled and swirled deeply within the pit of his stomach.

After several moments, he let out a long, withheld sigh. He didn’t know what he initially expected, but the girl’s revelations felt too raw, too personal for someone like her to have to share. He empathised, more than he ever wanted, with her sense of humiliation.

He eyed the other white-haired man, who merely sat against the wall adjacent to his. His purple eyes swam, echoing Tomioka’s own perpetually haunted ones.

‘Happy now?’ He asked.

The barb had long since been lodged in there, he knew, but the brat deserved for the pain to sting a little bit worse. He hadn’t felt his vengeful streak for a while -his wives made him lose that over time -but Tengen thought that the man across from him wouldn’t learn otherwise.

The Wind Hashira didn’t say anything, really, but his frozen posture screamed out his ill-concealed restlessness. After a few moments of his moodiness, he jolted himself out of his stupor, suddenly standing and picking up the items strewn about the room. With more softness than efficiency, some of Kagome’s belongings, such as her clothes and fabrics, were folded in the tight shapes they were originally. Rengoku’s letters, her red visual diary, and even her own portrait, were sullenly returned back to where Sanemi thought they belonged in the brunette’s satchel.

[rangers-arecool]

   As a child and a growing teenager with no real female guidance, Hal had never really acted like the other girls her age. Partly because she had found safety in the Barrow-Downs outside of Bree, where the spirits, bone-men and hounds of death cared little for looks; and partly due to never really being comfortable acting as a female should. Being raised by her father’s kin, the Rangers of the North; of whom, there were very few actual female Rangers, hadn’t helped matters. Not that she minded, even the others in Bree had thought her weird.

  Yet despite her scars and closed off nature, despite not acting like a normal woman and never even considering looking for a partner; the gender-fluid Dúnedan was happy. She had never thought herself beautiful (and never would), so the courting letters others had sent her across the years had never caught her attention. No man had ever done that, until she met Boromir and then she had hidden the confusing feelings away. Until now. Caught in a situation that her Chieftain had KNOWINGLY created. She had gone to him after all, since dealing with her own emotions, and romantic ones at that, were unknown to her.

   A small smile appeared at his mumbled curse, unsurprised in the slightest that Aragorn was the last word. They were polar opposites yet had still fallen for each-other, even though neither knew it just yet. Fears still circulated in her mind despite talking to her leader and friend, causing her to consider detaching from her emotions when around the younger Gondorian Captain. Hearing his admittance, made her look back at her companion. She waited, letting him speak. Gaze darker than normal, due to the feelings being kept hidden from view for the moment.

  “Boromir…” There was a unusual hesitation in the way Hal said his name, a uncertainty that rarely showed in either her words or actions. “You won’t bring shame to me. There’s nothing you could do that would impact my standing now, not even being discovered like this. Aragorn would never have sent you this way had he thought that might happen. It’s better that you found me like this, rather than someone else without your integrity finding me by accident.” She answered softly, slipping back into the water to wash her long hair.

  It took her a moment to respond, since words were her worst enemy sometimes (especially when guilt was at hand). “You aren’t the only one, for I have missed you too. But.. I have a confession to make to you. Not all of my absence was related to my duties. I never meant to stay away from you for so long, Boromir but I was confused about my own feelings. Your ramblings are always interesting to listen to and I usually prefer silence over talking, except when you’re around it seems. Lately, you are the one I keep wanting to seek out, even if it would more sensible to stay away from you.“

  “A broken and scarred Ranger is surely not the right company for one of Gondor’s most wanted bachelors after all.” She teased gently, playful and warm despite putting herself down. It took a few minutes of comfortable silence for her to finish washing her hair and slipped out of the pool again. But not before she flicked water at Boromir with a playful smirk on her lips. “I was finished mostly anyway, for now at least.”

  Hal went over to where her pack was and pulled a simple sundress on. “It’s safe to turn around now. I have a dress on for the moment.” She laughed softly, sitting back down by the water’s edge with her pack by her side. “He did. But think of it like this, Boromir; had Aragorn warned you and you decided not to come, he would have asked someone else to check on me. Would you have wanted another man seeing me like that? Since I wouldn’t have had much warning to get a dress on and not all men are like you or Faramir, especially in war.”

A memento of the sight that he wandered into, unknowingly, from the response of Aragorn and parted through smirking lips, eyes sparkled with a mischievousness unnoticed until then, until remembered back to, the chassis that was Hal. Framework crafted from lightened skin and darkened hair, fell onto her shoulders like rainwater upon the stones that made the grandest of palaces, the curve of her body, the pink to her cheeks. Long fingers graced across the delicate flesh of her legs - scars upon her like landmarks to maps - stories both told and untold, her victories and losses. Smooth toward the ears, while the birds of love seemed to sing their songs, the flutter of wings when nearest their destined mate, heard by Boromir while yet he still stood. A statue among the forest; tan rather than cold marble, warmed and hot all over, bound to melt into the dirt should he spend another moment as he were. A puddle that the labors of Middle Earth had created. Subjected to, undone by the simple pleasure that was seeing Hal, of being both close to her and to be regarded as trusted friend.

Desire so great to turn around, almost did Boromir do so. Approached the lure that near dared to inspire his foot, the pressure of heel into ground, the weight of a whole man shifted from one view into another. Shoulder encouraged by an invisible force - thin fingers pressed into the fabric of its shirt, deeply into the stitching, the fine threads that sewed all pieces together. Faint white married to ruby, there was no part of Boromir that did not wish to. Wanted so much to look, if only just for one sacred glance, to abandon the goodness of his character and act. Secret it was not, Hal, though so often hidden by the structure of her dress, hoods and protective layers, was a beauty to behold. Her eyes like gneiss-crystal, her smile so charmed; her loyalty admirable. Brave, as silent as the breeze in late summer but never heartless, tender and kind to those proven in faith. Her opposite entire, Boromir had lost his heart to her before he so realized.

Bold to her reserved, extroverted to her introverted; halves of contrasted string, interwoven together in order for beautiful tapestry to be made, hung in the halls of undeclared affection.

A curse mumbled on his lips, finished with the name of Aragorn, Boromir admitted, hands fidgeting between each other, thumbs run around and around. "I don't want to bring shame to you, Hal. My being here could ruin you. If someone were to see us! I would not be able to live with myself should my selfishness impact your standing. You have worked too long, too hard, for it to be taken away. Least of all, to be taken away by me. Dear friend, I shouldn't be here!"

Boromir sighed. "And still, I do not wish to go. Truthfully, there was more than just wanting to tend to you this day for my coming. I... I have missed you. Since arriving in Gondor, I have seen you so little, Hal. Our duties require it, but it has not been easy. I have longed to see your face again. I have missed our conversations. You always listened to me, no matter how long I rambled. I always looked forward to learning more of you, your family, your life. All of it, it has meant so very much to me. Your companionship in these days, it's become one of the greatest joys of my life."

"I'll stay. But you must finish your bath and rest first! I'll not look upon you until then! We must have some decorum, yes, my friend? I shall wait here, glancing about the trees and leaves. You take your time, all and however much you need. I am not Faramir - wonderful man he is - but I, too, have a grasp of the concept of patience. I'll be here. Should you need my help, only call my name. I have not yet lost my uses, Hal! Surely, our rascally Aragorn warned you of that. I'll have words with him about this, you can count on that. Many, many words."

[lexxiie]

Hello! I don't know if you keep up with the anime but this latest episode (112) has some motherly instincts kicking in for me and I just want to love and protect bby shiggy Xd. Who cares if he looks freaky let me take him in and feed him and love him and UGH... can you maybe do a headcannon of an older reader finding younger shiggy walking around after his whole family incident and taking him in despite what he did? I need this rn

If Reader Had Found Tenko Before AFO Did

Omggg!! Same here sis. I hadn't felt that bad for a character in a long time. Poor shiggy was so sweet! He just wanted to be a hero.

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki (Tenko Shimura) x reader

Part 2

You were coming back home from the market. You loved green tea but you had noticed that morning that you ran out of honey. No honey, no green tea.

You had also ran out of some other things so you figured it was a necessary trip.

While you were checking your ticket, about to open the door of your car, you noticed something unusual.

Or rather, someone.

There was a little kid all alone. He looked lost.

You approached him carefully beacuse you didn't want to scare him or anything. "Hey little guy! Where are your parents?"

And when he turned his head up to face you, you noticed that his face was full of scars.

Your first thought was that maybe his parents had done that to him and you were very concerned.

The poor little kid started crying when you asked about his parents and that only made your theory stronger.

You kneeled before him and reached a hand towards him with the intension of wipping his tears away, but he stepped back immediately.

"No! Don't touch me! It's dangerous!"

Again, you thought that was something his parents had told him to keep him from seeking help or something.

"Oh, honey, I can assure you it is not dangerou-"

"Yes, it is! I hurt them! But I didn't mean to, I promisse, I'm sorry!"

His cries almost made his words impossible to understand.

"You hurt who?" Now you were quite confused.

"My parents! My hands... They touched them... They are gone!"

And that's when a dark thought crossed your mind. What if this kid was talking about his quirk? You had heard stories about kids who accidentaly hurt classmates when their quirk first appeared. Never anything as serious as killing them, though.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Tenko...", He said in-between cries.

"All right, Tenko. Do you think you can tell me where do you live? So that I can take you back home? You assumed he should know the way back home since he was walking on his own and he couldn't have gone too far.

"No, I don't wanna go there!", He yelled and started to scartch his face furiously.

"It's all right, you don't have to go in. I just need to know just in case. You can come home with me if you want to."

Now, you knew very well that that was very much not legal at all, but you couldn't help it! Specially when his eyes brightened up the moment you said that. "Yes! I'd like that!"

You both got into your car while he explained where he lived, and just as you assumed, it wasn't far at all. You could've walked there.

When you finally got there, you could see how his scrathing became more and more violent. But that wasn't even the worst part.

The house was completely destroyed. As if an earthquake had hit it.

Your immediate reaction was to get out of the car and go see if anyone needed help, but as soon as you got to the back of the pile of rubble, you saw the bodies. Or what was left of them.

You headed back to the car and asked Tenko to hold a rock in his hands, he was hesitant at first, but he complied.

He grabbed it with only two fingers at first, nothing happened. As soon as he placed his five fingers son the rock though...

The rock became dust in a matter of seconds... It was shocking. You had never seen anything like it.

Things were clear now. This little kid had accidentaly killed his family. You had two options, taking him to the police, without knowing if they would actually consider this an accident. In the best case scenario, he would be in foster care or you could take him in.

Again, you were pretty sure that wasn't legal but you were panicking. You were completely terrified for this little boy, what if they judged him as an adult and put him on trial? It had happened before. People killed people on accident often. It was part of the consequences of a society with quirks,

Besides, this boy needed someone! He had just seen his family die beacuse of him, the amount of guilt that he probably feels must be overwhelmig. Putting him through foster care will only make everything worse for him.

So you took him home.

After tending to all the wounds he had on his face, you offered him some hot chocolate and something to eat.

You had a pair of old gloves that you slightly modified so that they would only cover three of his tiny fingers. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to grab the mug.

Tenko was very quiet and you didn't want to pressure him so you just sat by his side on the couch.

You turned the tv on hoping to find something that a 5 year old could like but the first thing that came up, were the news. They were talking about how a group of heroes had stopped some criminals from robbing a bank.

Just as you were about to change the channel, you saw Tenko's smile while watching some hero answering to the reporter's questions, his little hands shaking with exitement.

"Well, you like heroes, don't you?"

"I do! I want to be one when I'm older!"

But just as he finished that sentence, his exitement was replaced by a deep sadness... "But I can't be one. I can't be one because I'm a bad person, I'm evil!"

You cupped his little face with your hands. "You are not evil. What happened was an accident. You didn't mean to do that. It wasn't your fault."

Tenko's eyes brightened with what seemed to be a glimpse of hope.

"Tenko, you might think that your quirk can only bring pain. But I assure you, It can also bring safety, peace if used correctly. You can be a hero."

And with that, He gave you the brightest smile you had ever seen before starting to cry, but, this time, he seemed to be crying tears of joy.

No one had ever told him that in his entire life. When you are little, the words of a grown up mean everything, and what you had told him that day, would change his life forever.

You tucked Tenko under the sheets of the bed on your spare room and told him a story so that he could sleep peacefully, leaving a light on.

"Thank you, (y/n)", he said before offering you a small smile.

You had no idea of what you would do next. You didn't know if you would take him to the authorities the next morning or not. You were thinking of asking them to let you adopt him.

But you did have something very clear.

You would look over this child for the rest of your life, whether he stayed with you, or not.

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

[english8muffin]

Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

Masterlist can be found HERE!

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry IV

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase, unwanted touching, mild violence.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You’re forgiven but only by the sins of another.

Note: Yesterday went pretty good! I have a longer day today but I will likely have my Second Anniversary Writing Challenge up on or before Thursday for all of you guys! I can’t wait and for now, I got number 4 done.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Another servant brought Lord Barnes’ first meal. You watched from the corner, huddled under the wool blanket. He had her place a bowl of porridge before you but there was no generosity in the gesture. He only sustained you for his own means. You gulped from the rim and the oats piled in your stomach heavily.

He didn’t say a word to you as he ate. He strapped on his arm and grunted as he tightened each strap. You helped him dress after he shot you a dark look and he stopped you as you made to take a step back. You were still naked and prone to his will.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he said, “you understand? It doesn’t have to-- you frustrate me and it makes me cruel. You should do without me asking.”

“My lord,” you watched his hand grip your wrist tighter. He yanked you closer.

“You are not responsible for my meals anymore or tidying. Any woman with a speck of wit can do that. You…” he turned and thrust you towards the bed, “see to this, see to me, that I am happy and I will make you happy.”

You stared at the mattress. Your lips parted and you were sure you uttered “yes, my lord,” but it felt more like a cough.

He huffed and nudged you closer to the bed, “sleep, I am certain the floor allowed for little of that. Upon my return, you might seek my forgiveness… and perhaps to begin in your new duties.”

You turned and sat on the edge. He looked down at you and pulled his gloves on. He scrunched his lips and tilted his head as he thought, seemingly having a conversation with himself.

“And you will not look at me like that,” he said as he strode away and grabbed his cape from the atop the chest where he’d laid it out, “I am not a monster.”

He was gone and you were lost. You knew there was a guard outside that door, you knew the castle was crawling with them. You had nowhere to go and nothing to do but what he said. So you buried your head and tried to forget all that, if only for a moment.

🏰

You woke to pain. You lived the last day in pain but a spark in your thigh awoke you. You groaned and pushed the pillow away and looked down at the hand that crawled along the welts on your legs. As the palm brushed over the curve of your ass, your eyes found his face and you squeaked.

It hurt to move but you rolled away and sat up, hugging the pillow as you faced Lord Rogers. His blue eyes glimmered as he smiled at you.

“What-- my lord, where is Lord Barnes?” you gasped.

“He is withheld in the stables,” Rogers pulled his knees up on the bed and crawled over to grab your ankle, “I did seek to ask after you and your condition. His rage does make him cruel.”

“Don’t,” you pushed on his hand as it tugged on your leg, “he will not be happy if you proceed, my lord.”

“Don’t? You are bold for a servant,” he took your other ankle and yanked you hard so you fell onto your back. You dropped the pillow and swatted at him as he tried to wrench your legs apart, “he owes me, he cannot be mad at me claiming my debt--”

“No,” you wriggled and twisted around onto your stomach, your legs tangled strangely as you grasped the edge of the bed. You slipped one leg free and kicked out, your toes jabbed his chest harshly and he released your other ankle. You tumbled onto the floor and cried out as you jarred your wrist.

You heard him coming around the bed and you got to your feet unsteadily, holding the square end table for support. You were so stunned after the rude awakening you could hardly think. It felt like a nightmare, like you were still asleep and trapped in your fears.

You grabbed the heavy brass candlestick and swung out at Rogers as he came near. He dodged and chuckled darkly.

“Ay,” he bent his arm to deflect your second strike, “you don’t want to do that, sweetness.”

“Please, no,” you begged, “Lord Barnes, he said-- he would hurt me more--”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Rogers smirked and you lashed out at him again and caught his forearm. He backed up and held where you’d struck, “My word, you are a little bitch.”

“Stop, don’t come closer,” you stumbled against the wall and pressed your back to it as you sidled away, “please.”

“I just want a little taste,” he hummed, “Barnes won’t know--”

You hit him again and he swore as he gripped his shoulder. You clung to the candlestick and dashed for the door. You unlatched it and ripped it open, only to stagger back at the figure waiting for you on the other side. Lord Barnes stood with his hand still in position to grab the long handle and his brows drew together in displeasure.

“And where--” he began as he entered and his voice died as he sighted the other lord holding his shoulder, only a few inches behind you as he haled mid-chase, “Steve,” Barnes said evenly and eyed him then the candlestick in your hand. He reached down and freed it from your hold, “go,” he nudged your shoulder and pointed you to the corner.

You cowered as you passed Lord Rogers and did as Barnes bid. You stood in the corner and shivered as he gestured for the other lord to follow him into the corridor. The door closed violently behind them and you pressed yourself to the chilled stones.

“Now I know why my guard has strayed,” Barnes' voice carried through the wood, “did I not promise you a reward in due time?”

“I was only playing with her,” Rogers argued.

“She should have knocked you in the head with this,” Barnes hissed, “I should break my promise now, truly it would be your dissolution on the matter for your impatience.”

“She needs a good slap, she is far to brazen,” Steve sneered, “she struck me, twice.”

“Good,” Barnes said, “she knew better than you.”

There was silence and then a long sigh.

“Go, I haven’t the energy for this and our travels on the morrow,” Barnes huffed.

“Buck,” Rogers said softly.

“If it does not happen again, I will let it be,” Barnes muttered, “I am tired.”

The door opened and footsteps faded down the corridor. Barnes entered and tossed the candlestick so it clattered to the floor. You flinched and watched as he struggled to unclasp his cape with one hand. You saw the line between his brows as he grew frustrated. You went to him meekly and hesitantly reached for the buckle. He dropped his arm and let you free the cape.

He nodded and you slung it from the silver hook mounted upon the side of the great wooden wardrobe. You sensed him watching you and turned back to face him. You folded your hand, uncertain, and swayed slightly.

“He should not have done that,” Barnes, said, “you were right to fend him off.”

“My lord,” you replied diligently.

He let out another long breath and walked around the bed. He sat at the foot and watched you dwindle beneath the heat of his gaze. “Understand that you belong to me, first and foremost. You are mine. You do not raise your hand or your voice to me and you do only as I bid.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said.

He lowered his hand and undid his belt. He let it fall loose and unbuttoned the front of his dark vest. “Help me. I’ve already sent for hot water.”

You helped him as you did before. The layers stripped away around the weight of his metal arm. He was not shy of his nudity but he kept you from removing his arm, he did that himself and kept his scars in the shadows as best he could. He fell back, his legs bent over the bed and sniffed.

“Cover yourself in a nightshirt and let the servants in to draw the bath,” he ordered.

You pulled on one of his nightshirts and when the knock came you did as he bid. Servants carried in a large metal tub and a procession of steaming pots filled it with hot water. When it was full, you closed the door and resumed your place in the corner.

Barnes rose and went to the tub. He lowered himself into the water and his blue eyes lingered on you. His broad shoulders pressed against the beaten metal and his single arm stretched around the rim.

“Come here,” he said.

You went to him and stopped beside the tub. His eyes slipped to the nightshirt and his lips curved slightly.

“Take that off, get in,” he nodded to the tub.

You bit down and lifted the hem of the shirt. You put it aside and neared the tub again. You gripped the rim and stepped over the side. Barnes sat up slightly as you drew your second foot in and he directed you with one arm. You turned your back to him as he urged you down against him until your back was against his firm torso.

He purred and his hand fell to your stomach. He traced a trail up to your breasts and fondled them one at a time. You felt a twitch against you and he pushed his hand back down. His fingers crept up and down your body as he explored your flesh with little hums.

“Were you afraid?” he asked, “when Rogers appeared?”

You watched his hand and resisted the want to push him away. Despite the steaming water, you felt cold and distant, almost as if your body wasn’t bound to your mind.

“Yes,” you said, “yes, my lord. He woke me and I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing,” his lips brushed the top of your head, “you kept yourself for me.”

You held your breath. You hadn’t truly been thinking about him, about what he desired, you were only terrified and desperate, like that night he’d tried to have you. You trembled and let out the air as it began to burn your lungs. Your skin buzzed as it all sank in; you were naked, more so he was naked too, and you were laying there against him.

“My lord,” you eked out as his hand slipped lower and rested over your most intimate part.

He stayed like that for a time. You felt his heartbeat against you as he basked in the warmth of the water and your body. His hand would move back up and he’d hug you to him but then it would hover again along your vee and sometimes his fingers would caress your thigh.

“Are you truly sorry?”

“My lord?” you blinked as your daze was cracked.

“Are you sorry that you ran from me?”

You heard how brittle his voice was and felt the tension in his body. You touched his hand as it rested on your stomach.

“I am truly sorry, my lord,” you almost believed yourself, “I am only a foolish girl and my ignorance did scare me, not-- not you, my lord.”

He nuzzled your head and slid his hand away and twined his fingers between your. You felt his member prodding you from beneath and that scared you. You felt every bit of him against you; his raw strength and his pulsing desire. You closed your eyes and braced for what came next.

“We must begin for the capital tomorrow,” he said and your lashes fluttered in surprise, “that means we must rest. You may sleep in the bed beside me,” he squeezed your hand and moved it over chest, “would you like that?”

You thought of the cold stone and the ache in your bones, the way even now your bottom and legs seared from the welt across them. You pictured the long trek to the royal castle and the onslaught of autumn. It all fell over you like a suffocating shroud.

“Yes, my lord, I would like that,” you said.

He was quiet for a little longer as he held you against him. He groaned and shifted beneath you, “I only did what I had to,” he turned your hand over and traced the lines of your palm with his thumb, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You swallowed through your spite as your fear urged you to caution, “I know, my lord,” another painful lie lodged in your throat, “I… wronged you and I am sorry for it.”

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (May 31/2021) - Deck of Cards With a Green Smile on Them

Wilbur and Tommy visit Las Nevadas to have some words with Quackity. 

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VOD LINKS:

Punz

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Wilbur Soot

Captain Puffy

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- Punz mines out an entire chunk of the server

- Wilbur and Tommy meet at L’manhole. Tommy brings Wilbur to the quarry and shows him the Tommyboxes full of stone

- Tommy and Wilbur walk down the Prime Path and Wilbur notices all the new changes in the builds, including that Purpled’s UFO has been destroyed. Wilbur claims that someone’s being “a copycat” with TNT, figuring out exactly how it was destroyed

(Wilbur is also repeatedly puzzled by the appearance of Oogway throughout the server)

- Wilbur tells Tommy that he received a book: “PROJECT NEVADAS.” It rings a bell, and Tommy says it’s Quackity’s new place that he’s been staying out of

- Wilbur tells Tommy that the book says to come to Nevadas (not saying what it actually reads), and Tommy leads Wilbur there

- The last time Wilbur saw Quackity, they were fighting together for L’manburg -- but he gets the impression, judging by everyone else aside from Jack Manifold, Tommy and Phil, that everyone probably dislikes him. He assumes Quackity won’t have the best impression of him

- Tommy’s never been to Las Nevadas, but the person who told him about it said it was just a little town. They’re awestruck by it as they arrive

- Quackity comes up to meet them, surprised to see Wilbur alive. Tommy asks what happened to his face, but also notices that his piss neck is gone

- Wilbur says he’s glad to see Quackity out of the presidential outfit, and he never thought Quackity was fit for the Vice President role anyway. Quackity tells them that he owns this entire place

Wilbur: “Oh, so you’re -- you’re like a -- a President, then!”

Quackity: “I’m the President, man!”

Wilbur: “...You’re the President.”

- He shows Quackity the book and accepts Quackity’s “invitation” to work alongside him. Tommy asks to move in as well

Quackity: “Wilbur...That was not an invitation, I’m sorry Wilbur...That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your unpredictability.”

- Wilbur tells Quackity that while he may have been unpredictable in the past, he’s turned over a new leaf and doesn’t lie anymore, he’s forgotten everything he knew about TNT

Wilbur: “Quackity, look me in the eyes...I am your servant. I am at your service, I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything you would need in a leadership role, Quackity! Even not in leadership -- I can be, you know, assistant to the President! Just, I...Quackity, this is everything I’ve dreamt of in a solid marble and quartz...Quackity, you’re making a mistake, man, you need to let me in--”

Tommy: “Wil, this is so cool!”

Wilbur: “TOMMY, SHUT UP! I mean -- Tommy, come over here.”

- Quackity tells him he’s not going to let the same thing that happened to L’manburg happen to Las Nevadas. Tommy points out that it looks like they’re kissing. 

- Wilbur walks around the sandy area asking what Quackity owns, and Quackity owns all of it. Quackity still means to discuss things with Tommy. Wilbur makes his way to the forest next to Las Nevadas

Wilbur: “What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?”

- Quackity asks what Wilbur’s about to do. Wilbur leads them over to a nearby spot and welcomes Tommy to their new “headquarters” as they “break ground” there.

- Tommy doesn’t want to start a new country, preferring Las Nevadas. He also repeats that Wilbur and Quackity looked like they were kissing and he feels like he’s getting third-wheeled

- Quackity and Tommy talk one-on-one and Quackity reminds Tommy about how they spoke about the hotel and possibly working together. Tommy brings up Quackity’s eye again, remembering how Quackity has had many “conditions” for a long time

Quackity: “You ever hear about the Butcher Army, Tommy? One day, we were going to execute Technoblade, and we got in a...we got a fight. And this is how this thing showed up on my face.”

- Tommy is surprised that he went to kill Technoblade and asks when this was, if this was during his exile

Tommy: “You’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?”

- Quackity says he’d be happy to sit down and discuss it, that he’s not Tommy’s enemy. He gives Tommy the choice: Tommy is welcome to join him, even if Wilbur isn’t. He can offer Tommy a management position, a job

- Tommy goes to speak with Wilbur and leaves Quackity, noticing what Wilbur’s built

Wilbur: “It’s a penis of safety!”

- Wilbur asks Tommy to work with him. He won’t stop Tommy, but Tommy is all Wilbur’s got. Jack Manifold’s busy and Phil has ideas about authoritarianism Wilbur disagrees with

Wilbur: “Tommy, I don’t want to make a country. I’m past that, man. I want to make an HQ. I want to make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy, it’s been so long since we’ve been safe. And man, you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, done so much. Tommy, you’ve changed the world, and all you have to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy, you deserve this safety and this sanctuary, and that’s what I want to make with you, and you won’t get it over there. You know what they say about casinos? It’s all lights and it’s all plastic, it’s all glitter, that there’s nothing of substance. Do you know what has substance, Tommy? Family. Blood. Please stay with me, Tommy.”

- He tells Tommy he needs to make a choice now. 

Wilbur: “I’m not gonna hold you back. If you pick Las Nevadas, what am I gonna do, man? What am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you, Tommy. You can go with whatever you want, but...Just know what you’ll be doing to me. That’s all I wanna say, man.”

Tommy: “There was a time when you weren’t here on this server, this SMP, when I went against...put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t have. I prioritized a lot of things -- I put revenge over humanity, humaneness. I guess all I’m seeking now is just someone that’s gonna be honest with me and a place that I can feel safe. I...I betrayed Technoblade, and I just couldn’t admit it. And I did the wrong thing with Tubbo, but...”

Wilbur: “This can be a safe place for them.”

- Tommy agrees to stay here, but dislikes that Wilbur has built the penis into a wall. The two start building a penis in the lake and Quackity comes over. 

Quackity: “History repeats itself, Tommy. You’re just letting this guy use you. You’re letting him emotionally manipulate you.”

- He and Wilbur start talking over each other, bickering

Quackity: “WHO DESTROYED L’MANBURG, TOMMY? THINK ABOUT THAT. THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND.”

Wilbur: “WHO RAN AGAINST YOU? WHO LAUGHED AS WE WERE EXILED? WHO CHEERED AS WE WERE THROWN OUT OF OUR NATION THAT WE BUILT? THAT WE BUILT?”

Quackity: “Who wanted a better outcome for L’manburg, Tommy? Who did? Who wanted to run a ‘democratic election’ with just one party? He’s right up there, Tommy! He’s right up there above you--”

Wilbur: “Remember the pit, Tommy. Remember what happened in the pit. Don’t. Trust. People. Who would’ve fought you in the pit.”

- They continue arguing. 

- Tommy gets a chance to speak and says none of that made him feel safe. Quackity apologizes and offers them a tour of Las Nevadas. They head over and Wilbur apologizes as well

- Quackity shows them around, including the restaurant that they’ll need to hire people for (the villager is no longer there). Wilbur tells Tommy he’d be fine with Tommy working here as long as he’d still hang out with Wilbur too

- They start going to the casino (Wilbur and Quackity both hurry to block off the strip club) and Quackity brings them into the gambling hall, giving them diamonds to try out the machine with

- After using the diamonds, Tommy puts Linda the shovel into the machine and loses the shovel in the machine. Quackity takes them out of the building and to the top of the Needle. Tommy remarks that it would be a good place to jump off of

- Quackity turns to Wilbur and asks how he’s alive. Wilbur explains that he was swapped with Ghostbur

- Quackity remembers the last conversation he and Wilbur had together, just after the elections. The conversation they had after the debates. (Wilbur looks at the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book again) 

Quackity wants to “pick Wilbur’s brain” again

- Wilbur’s lost everything. He’s lost decades, he’s lost most of the people who cared about him and many don’t even know he’s back yet

Wilbur: “Life is paved with the mistakes you make, and it’s not about when you made the mistakes or what you did, it’s about how you can improve from them, and...I guess that’s what I’m trying to do.”

- Wilbur’s seen Jack Manifold, Phil, Ranboo, Tommy and now Quackity so far, but there are a lot of other people who he’d like to talk to and apologize to and thank them

- Tommy tells Quackity he doesn’t want to sit back and run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done. Quackity respects his decision, but this is something else, not another L’manburg

- Quackity asks Wilbur about the revival again, and Wilbur admits that it was Dream who brought him back. Wilbur has many people he wants to thank and say sorry to, and Dream is one of them, as he saved Wilbur’s life. Dream is his hero.

- Quackity asks when this happened, and Wilbur says it’s been a while since, that hopefully Ghostbur isn’t too lonely in Limbo

Quackity: [About Dream] “He’s not been lonely. Wilbur, Wilbur, I think his loneliness is the last of his concerns. I’ve been keeping him company, uh...as he’s been there. I’ve been visiting him quite frequently.”

Wilbur: “What, Dream or Ghostbur? I’m talking about Ghostbur.”

Quackity: “I’m talking about Dream.”

Wilbur: “Oh, gosh! You’ve been visiting him? Oh, he must love that!”

Quackity: “Yeah, no, he likes the company. He likes the company for sure. Uh...it’s a cool little thing, uh...Tommy, you know about this, right?”

Tommy: “Yeah, yeah, Wilbur -- that’s how I got to go and see Dream."

- Tommy tells Wilbur that Dream killed him, to which Quackity says Sam’s bettered the security system (Wilbur’s surprised to hear the prison has a warden and a system to visit) 

Tommy: “Why would anyone want to go to the prison? You’ve been going, Big Q, to torture the shit out of him, I’ve heard...”

Quackity: “Tommy, what? Tommy...Tommy, where did you -- where did you get that from? What are you talking about?”

Tommy: “Well that’s how -- I assumed, ‘cause of the scar, you’ve been going to beat the shit out of him?”

Quackity: “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, don’t say that -- not even as a joke, Tommy, come on.”

- Wilbur says goodbye to Quackity (he has “work to do”) and leaves with Tommy. He’s overjoyed that he can meet Dream through the visitation system, while Tommy protests

- Wilbur throws Tommy the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book, saying that Quackity was writing about the old Wilbur, that Tommy made the right choice in not joining him. 

- Wilbur promises Tommy that going to visit Dream to thank him isn’t a bad decision. He wants to tie up loose ends. Dying is a big deal. This is like a funeral, saying goodbye

Wilbur: “Tommy, all I’m saying is, you know...what could go wrong in a prison?”

- Wilbur leaves. 

- Tommy asks Quackity for an Ender Chest

- He listens to “Cat,” alone in the rain, on a small wooden bench by the lake.

---

Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The High Priestess (Part 2): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: lies are unwound, and you discover a well-kept secret of the High King.

wc: 1.8k

tw: violence

masterlist

Part 1

a/n: Me looking at this part like... "aw shit, here we go again". My long-time followers know what I mean.

song recommendation:

Two months.

Two months of being acting queen and you can feel the strain wearing in on your mind. How could anyone be built to be called upon day after day? And how could anyone withstand the various winds that threaten to topple your power if you do not keep the peace? How did Ran do it?

These are answers you seek while the High King is away, fighting a war you desperately hope will end soon so you can return to the life you had before it. And before him.

You hold court in the temple - which, admittedly, is not built for such activities - seeing those who wish to call upon your help by day and allowing no one past the threshold by night so you can rest, tired from each day's events and challenges.

At night, you think of the last time you saw Ran, his violet eyes looking back to you as he winked then rode off into the distance, thousands of hooves following his orders to march past the border and to rescue his brother from a sure demise. He'd left you without so much as a confession of his affection, which made you feel a little out of place among the royals of the court. Who were you, other than the High Priestess who had the sheer luck of being able to call yourself "next in line for the throne"? As far as they knew, you didn't have the king's attention, nor his desire. You were worse than just a passing fancy for the High King: you were nothing.

You consult the gods when necessary, but find yourself wondering more about Ran than is required, inquiring about his status on the battlefield a little too often. To anyone else, it would appear you are interested in keeping Ran in power and avoiding a change of regime, but you know it's a little more than that.

"Your Holiness!"

A squire dashes into your room in the middle of the night - which isn't uncommon any more - bearing important news by the looks in his wide yellow eyes.

"Yes, speak," you urge him and he moves his mouth a few times, trying to speak but finding that he's terribly unable to do so. "Speak, man!"

To your horror, the man coughs up blood, and you scream, scrambling back on the bed as he falls to the ground, the torch in his hands rolling across the floor. He sputters, breathing his last as a wide-chested man walks into your room, holding a finger to his lips. The scar across his right purple eye shimmers in the dying light of the torch, and he smiles at you, teeth gleaming.

"Don't scream," he grunts, his voice laced with a heavy accent. You open your mouth to try and do the opposite again, but his hands are around your neck in a flash, choking you as he holds you by the neck. "I told you not to scream."

You're led out of the room, fingers clutching the man's broad arm as he puts you in a chokehold and walks you out of your room, past your two attendants who have been bound and are being held against their will by two other men. The man holding you captive speaks to them quickly, and they drag your assistants away while you grasp for some purchase on the man's hands. Where are the guards? Why is this happening? Where is Ran when you need him most, and why had no one informed you of enemies past your borders?

Before you're slung across a horse, your captor ties a cloth gag around your mouth and binds your hands with tough ropes, then has you sit in front of him on the saddle, wrists laced with the reins before he kicks the horse, spurring it onward.

"Yah!"

Dear gods, you pray, watching the sun peek over the horizon. Help me.

____________________________________________________________

You can't remember when you fell asleep, but when you awake, you're still on the saddle, blinking in the oppressive sunlight. You want to ask questions, you want to ask why, what, when, where, but at the sight of the barren landscape around you, you reason that you're much further into the desert than you thought possible in one day.

But thirst and need to relive yourself do not care about the length of the trip, and before long, you're squirming on the saddle impatiently.

"Ah," the assailant speaks. "You're awake." You turn to him and grunt, your dress covered in dirt and sand and uncomfortable as you twist. "Need water?" You nod, eyes roaming about the emptiness with desperation. "Don't worry. We are almost home."

Home? In this hell?

Perhaps minutes later, you see colored triangles rise up from the sand dunes and form tents, with various people gathered around, walking, or watching you approaching with your captor. The sand turns into dry land, and foilage pops up at small intervals, proving that there is, in fact, water nearby.

When you reach the well in the center of the encampment, your captor ties the horse - and you - to a post and hops down, meeting another man halfway. Various tanned faces look your way, a question in their eyes at your appearance.

The captor addresses the larger, older man and motions toward you, speaking a language you don't know in quick and fluid tones. When the older man - who you assume is the leader of these strange people - sees you, his eyes widen and he hurries to the horse you're still on. Fingers untie you from the horse and the gag placed on your mouth before he helps you down and smooths his hand over your hair.

You shrink back, not recognizing the man at all, but when he turns to the group and utters two words, they all fall to their knees and place their heads on the ground. You bristle with uncertainty, a chill working down your spine as you hear various voices carried on the wind whisper your name.

_____________________________________________________________

You're fed.

You're dressed in new and expensive clothing.

You're housed in the leader's tent.

And you're called by your first name.

They know who you are.

"Y/n." The leader of the people smiles at you kindly, holding a cup of wine out for you to take. He then speaks in his language, and the man who kidnapped you - Takeomi - translates.

"You're a High Priestess from our land," Takeomi explains. "We have been robbed of our High Priestesses for centuries, each one of them stolen from their cribs, and taken to the land you lived in."

"What?" You ask, sipping the mulled wine and frowning. "How is that possible?"

"Every time a High Priestess returns to the dust she was made from, the two countries search for the new one. Somehow, they find you all before we do and rip you from your beds in the veil of night." The leader hangs his head, face full of sorrow. "And you were taken from here long ago."

The older man bursts into tears, shoulders shaking furiously. The fear that's been in your heart multiplies and you shake your head. Takeomi gives you a knowing look and inhales deeply, pushing his black hair behind his ears.

"I wish your mother could see you today." You scramble to your feet, backing away from the two men in shock.

"No. No." You thought not knowing your parents came with the job. That's how you grew up, not being attended to by anyone except the various companions who came and went with age. That's what they told you. That's what they told you.

You take off, running for the sand, running for the safety of not knowing. Running back to Ran and his descendant's lies. Footfalls echo behind you and you're tackled to the ground, Takeomi whispering his profound apologies as he lifts you off the ground by one arm and slings you over his shoulder.

"My apologies, y/n. But I wouldn't recommend you run into the desert. Not with the drought coming, and no that I've finally found you for your father."

_____________________________________________________________

Night falls across the camp as you sit outside of your father's tent, and you watch the blue sky turn into pinks and purples before darkening into a deep blue and lighting the sky with tiny specks of light. Takeomi sits beside you, whittling away at and sanding a long hand-held flute while he watches you watch the sky.

You had a mother and you have a father.

You weren't gifted to the people you grew to serve. You were stolen.

"Stolen." The word doesn't sit right on your tongue.

"Yes," Takeomi answers, sitting his knife aside. "Stolen."

"And you stole me back." The scar across his face lifts a little when he raises his brow, purple eyes filling with bewilderment.

"Can you steal your own people back from slavery?" A slave. You had been a slave, and you hadn't even known it. An ignorant, blissfully unaware slave. Tears prick at your eyes and you stifle a sob as you bury your face in your raised knees, inhaling shakily.

"It's a lot to take in," you finally mutter, and Takeomi chuckles before falling silent.

"You will fit in just fine here. I will make sure of it."

_____________________________________________________________

That same night, you find yourself sitting around a fire, the light casting shadows on the faces of those gathered around you. Takeomi is to your right, and your father is to your left, his hand wrapped around yours tightly before he stands, smiling at his people. The words he speaks are full of passion and excitement, and Takeomi leans over to recite the speech in your language.

"He's calling this celebration to mark your return and blessing the gods with a sacrifice in the morning, which you will definitely be present for. He's also talking about your mother and how your arrival signals that she is still with us in her infinite loving-kindness." He pauses for a moment as your father motions to him, giving a short nod before whispering to you again. "And he's thanking me for my part."

Your father leans forward to capture your face in his hands, then kisses your forehead, tears dropping from his eyes to your skin. With that, the crowd begins to murmur softly, the tones of their voices full of happiness and excitement. Your father says one word, and they erupt in cheers, holding up their cups of wine, and then drinking it all. You follow hesitantly, then music begins to play with fervor, causing everyone to clap along, sing in their native tongue, or dance.

"Do you dance?" Takeomi wonders, fiddling with his cup carefully as he looks over at you.

"No," you reply, watching the others skillfully weave their way around the circle, dresses flying in the night air. "I've never danced."

"You should try."

"Do you dance?" you ask, nudging the man with your elbow.

"Well, until now, I've never had a reason to."

[midnightsconspiracy]

Blame

Blame - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Having a baby without telling their father was hard, what was harder was when that baby’s father was Hank Voight

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1900

Requested: Yes!!

‘Hank and the reader had a small fling 2 years ago Hank called it off but what happens when he finds out that the reader son isn’t just hers but his as well.’

A/N: It doesn't really follow the timeline of the requests 2 years, but it's along those lines anyway :):)

Masterlist

Yours and Hank's relationship had seemed perfect at first, well to you anyway. Nothing seemed as though it was out of the ordinary until the man had unexpectedly broken it off.

It had originally started when you had first met him on a case. Originally, you had attended a police scene after his unit had called for a paramedic crew, the sergeant in question having hit the offender a little too hard. Your partner was assigned to look at the perpetrator's wounds, him having come out of that scuffle worst for wear, you on the other hand were sent to look at Voight's beat-up hand. Admittedly, you were a little wary at first, having heard of his tough reputation through the firehouse. But he seemed to be kind to you anyways, and so you ignored those rumours, choosing to decide for yourself instead. And so your relationship grew from there, secretly spending most of your free nights at his place, learning to trust each other implicitly.

As time went on, the two of your learnt to love each other, both scarred from the outcome of previous relationships. Your days were filled with shy smiles from the texts you'd send to each other, and nights with the feeling of one another. Everything had seemed perfect at the time, blissfully unaware of what he was feeling. Yes, he did love you, but the insecurities and comments were eating away at him. Each day he would come into work or go out to his local gentlemen's club and receive judgments on your relationship, about how you were much younger or better looking than him. He took most of the comments to heart despite you telling him otherwise, but who was he going to believe, over 10 of his closest friends and colleagues or his girlfriend? Eventually, he chose his answer, breaking it off before you could object otherwise.

Distraught was the only word that you could use to describe yourself. You were absolutely heartbroken knowing someone you believed loved you threw it all away because of the opinions of others. Not only were you emotionally broken but also physically, feeling like absolute crap, constantly throwing your guts up and in an ever-changing mood. At first, you just blamed it on the stress you were facing, the breakup had been rough and you'd tried your best to change his mind. But it continued on day by day even after you'd accepted what had happened. Confiding in Sylvie about your problems, she seemed worried for you, urging you to go to the doctors for advice. Although you were apprehensive at first, you followed her instructions, seeking Natalie out to check you over.

You played with your hands nervously as you waited for her to come back with the results of the blood tests. At first, you just thought it was the flu, but after each symptom of yours she checked off her list, your mind knew where this was all going. And so as she confirmed what you were thinking, you froze, tears springing to your eyes not knowing what would happen to you or your baby.

That day you had made one of the most important decisions of your life, you would move back home to Virginia and raise the baby with only the help of your family. And so that's what you did, packing your things up into a moving van, putting your apartment for sale and driving to your new home. It was a little challenging at first to adjust to your new life, you missed your friends overwhelmingly having spent nearly every day of the last five years within the walls of that firehouse. But, you knew you had to move on though, probably never going back to Chicago to allow your child a better life. It had crossed your mind once or twice that maybe Hank would want to know about this, be a part of their life, but you just couldn't chance it. He had let you go over the opinions of others so what would stop him from doing similar with this child? You couldn't take that risk though, so as soon as any thought of him would appear, it would disappear soon after.

It was a struggle being a single parent, going through each trimester of your pregnancy alone. Sometimes you wished he would go through the milestones with you, the first sign of a baby bump, the first kick. And you had your family there with you too, but it was never the same as someone you loved. The worst was when you gave birth, all alone, with no one to hold your hand as you experienced the worst pain of your entire life. However, it had led to the best thing, your son, Jackson. Your life had changed overnight, now you not only lived for yourself but also your son.

As he grew up your happiness also increased, loving life just you and your child. Most of the time it was perfect laughing and playing but others you wanted Hank to be there, helping you out with the hard moments. Things with your family worsened as Jackson grew as well, things becoming rocky as they helped you less and less. And so just after you celebrated your sons third birthday, you decided maybe Chicago wasn't so bad. You could reunite with your friends, have some help with Jackson and potentially get your job back at the firehouse. So that's what you did, once again packing your stuff up and moving the both of you into a shared apartment with Sylvie, your rock in all of this.

Your life had suddenly gone back to normal overnight, picking up your career as a paramedic at 51 whilst you got a babysitter from Jackson. The only people that were aware of your presence were those at the firehouse, trying to keep your return in house so as not to raise any unwanted attention. But that had all changed as you and Brett were once again called to a police crime scene. And your prayers weren't answered as you rolled up to one led by intelligence.

As soon as you exited the ambulance you were faced with the entire team with two people needing assistance, the perpetrator and Hank. Sylvie gave you a knowing look as you grabbed the equipment, allowing you to take the bad guy. But as you walked towards the guy, Hank raised his voice, telling Sylvie he wouldn't be treated by her, wanting to talk to you instead. So you both complied, wandering over and grabbing Hank's head to assess his injuries, not wanting to even look him in the eye. You tried to wrap things up as quickly as you could, refusing to talk to him at all.

"You're back," he stated bluntly, needing to know your reasoning behind leaving in the first place. But you wouldn't give him the pleasure, fixing medical tape onto his wound, before packing up your stuff and hightailing it back into the ambulance. Although you were done with him, he definitely wasn't done with you, having heard some interesting rumours about your departure.

Finding out your new address, Hank made it his mission to see you, to explain what he was thinking. Knocking on the door of your apartment, he wished to see your face, having missed you the four years you had been gone. Just after you had moved your life to Virginia, Hank had a revelation, kicking himself for letting go of someone he loved so much. But instead of meeting your beautiful face, he found some random woman, being informed that you no longer lived there. He had been left distraught, leading to months of emotional instability, bottling it up, only to explode with anger and sadness after too long. But now as you opened the door, he smiled, glad that it was actually you this time.

"Why are you here?" You asked, wedging your body between the door and its frame, not wanting him to spot your child who was happily playing inside.

"I wanted to see you, I missed you," he confessed, wary at your suspicious behaviour.

"Missed me? You broke-"

"Mommy?" Being cut off from your angry rant, your eyes widened at the sound of your son, knowing you would have to reveal him to his father. Picking your toddler up, you tried to close the door, hoping to defuse the situation. Unlucky for you, Hank stopped the door from closing, pushing inside of your apartment.

"Mommy huh?" He questioned, confused at how you had a child.

"What's your name buddy?"

"Jackson," your son replied, blissfully unaware of who this man was and what havoc he was causing.

"And how old are you?" The cogs were turning in Hanks mind, could this child be his?

"I just turned three!" The exclamation from the child, confirmed it all, he was this boys father and you hadn't told him. Straightening up he looked you in the eyes, an angry look on his face.

"Hey, buddy why don't you play in your bedroom?" And with that, you brought your son back into his room, closing the door behind you.

"He's mine isn't he?" Hank questioned that eerily quiet voice piercing your ears. Yes, you hadn't told him, but it was to protect you and your son! Not trusting your voice you nodded your head, giving him the confirmation he needed.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" He roared, his anger overflowing, grabbing your arms to get you to look at him.

"It was to protect him, if you could easily get rid of me, what was stopping you from getting rid of him too?" You cried, knowing what you did was wrong.

"And you didn't think I could make that chose myself?" You could see the tears in the man's eyes, his voice crackling as he realised this was as much his fault as it was yours. You had made the choice but he was ultimately to blame. Bringing you into his arms, you both cried, equally regretting your decisions. Looking back up at him, your feeling flooded back, remembering how much you really loved this man. And so at that moment, you decided that Hank should be part of your boy's life, Jackson was as much his as he was yours.

So that evening was spent introducing the pair, watching as they got along like a house on fire. Hank's experience raising a child previously meant he knew how to please a child, allowing them to bond as father and son. Every time he looked at you, your original feelings intensified, understanding why you had originally thought that he would make a great father. In Hanks mind he was feeling overwhelming joy, the last few years had been so tough for him and this, this was all he could ever want. He had loved Justin with all his heart, but since he had died a black void had overtaken his heart. His grandson had briefly filled it, but that had been taken away again as they left as well. Finally, he had something that could fill this hole, a woman he loved infinitely and had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go. And a son, that he would hopefully watch grew up day by day, as a nice, happy family.

----------

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