#anyways the two of them moved up to a cabin in the woods and live happily ever after

[bluuxriising]

That time when I role-played on Discord with Nat’s serial killer oc who’d developed an obsession with Bluu and ultimately got her to fall in love with him and talked her into running away with him. What originally started off as a serial killer trying to gain a young woman’s trust by being nice to her warped into two very different people bonding.

[fraugwinska]

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

[sister-lucifer]

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

reblog banners by cafekitsune

[s0rinsleeps]

Twit cap: What if I went full TLOU ellie mode to protect my sister and u knew and didn’t tell the cops bcs u think I’m sooo sexy and sooo mysterious

ALOT OF DETAILS IF U WANT THEM UNDER THE CUT

Very very random spontaneous au moment!!

•Vander let’s vi/pow live in a secluded cabin in the woods to get them away from his shady lifestyle (he wants to quit but silco and Co. want him dead) anyway vi does her best to protect them both but unfortunately Powder gets kidnapped. (They want to use her as leverage against Vander) And well,, vi as said above, does what she has to do to get her sis back. Brutally. In her rage she fucks up and leaves incriminating evidence behind, so, desperate, she goes to the only other person she knows.

•Caitlyn learns abt this and decides to protect Vi and fuck up evidence to help vi hide. Vi feels guilty for letting Caitlyn get caught up in her mess but caitlyn tbh doesn’t gaf (we Stan a morally questionable woman) and she just wants silco and co captured./ they r wanted for. A numerous amount of things, drugs, murder, etc.

•(Also vi befriended Caitlyn a bit before this happened. I was thinking that the two met after Cait caught Powder practicing her marksmanship in the woods. Caitlyn is a detective for the local town and is curious abt the two. Although a bit moreso of the scary woman who looks like she’s never seen a bed in her life lol.)

-Was also thinking of giving Vander and vi a unstable/complicated relationship. ?

•Vi loves Vander like a father (classic he took them in at a very young age blah blah) but still hates the fact that her and powder have been dragged into all this, also he kind is bad dad (sorry) and doesn’t know how to give vi the emotional support she needs/she still becomes basically a mom for powder since he’s usually never home.

-Vander is trying his best, very much reflective of how he is in canon. The whole, ‘I’m trying to keep u alive but it’s not enough to keep ur innocence safe’ thing.

Also Vander is worried about the fact Silco now knows of his kiddos, and seems to have shown an interest in powder (while she was kidnapped she offed some guys which showed off her talent with a gun and silco was like wow cool I could use that)

-also silco was present but pow nor Vi saw him/ he was quickly hidden by sevika after VI started going ham on his goons.

•Powder(nickname jinx, she still has a lot of mental issues but she’s getting treated so she’s not ..that bad) takes a liking to caitlyn when she realizes that she wouldn’t rat them out to the cops and also the classic ‘they both can shoot!’ Thing, I’m sucker for caitlyn and pow bonding

(Also potential for powder trying to get vi and cait together because she wants Vi to have someone to rely on that isn’t Vander and also sees VI’s too nervous/self deprecating to make a move on her obvious crush) :p

Anyway that’s all I thought of rn!! Idek if I’ll draw more of this I just got carried away a little with the writing hahaha

[grippingbeskar]

warmth

ೃ⁀➷ joel miller x fem!reader

❥ content warning; forced proximity, dub!consent, somnophelia, dry humping, swearing

❥ a/n; based on this request! i've had some time off, and am still going through a bit of a strange time in my life, but your guys requests always inspire me to write and create, even if its just a lil bit of joel smut. hehe.

masterlist <3

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

“So this is fun.” You say into the dwindling light of the run down shithole you and Joel are calling home for the night. “Nice and cosy.”

“Cosy?” He parrots, and looks over to what was once a gaping hole in the side of the cabin. You shrug, and sink yourself further into the bundles of blankets you managed to secure.

“S-sure.” Your teeth chatter from the icy surroundings, defeating your point. “Are you sure we can’t start a tiny little fire in here?”

“Whole place is made of wood, darlin’. You’d be toast by mornin’.” His heavy accent floods your body with much needed heat, and you find yourself scooting closer to him on the floor you’ve made your make shift beds on.

“Toast sounds p-pretty good right now.” He laughs slightly, eyes catching your own before dropping back to his lap.

He watches you shift around, bundling yourself closer to trap any body heat you’ve managed to build up, and then takes one of the blankets off the top of his sleeping bag and throws it over you.

“Joel.” You say wistfully, but immediately snatch at the new blanket and add it to your pile. “You’ll get c-cold too.”

“I’ll live.” He says simply, and lays down about a foot away from you. “We should get some sleep.”

“Right.” Your voice is breathless, but still makes a few puffs of cold air as you move yourself down onto the floor of the cabin.

You’re calling it a cabin, but it’s more like a barn the way it’s laid out. It’s smack bang in the middle of a dense forest, with hay everywhere, even in a pile that crunches underneath every time you or Joel shift. It also doesn’t help the fact you are covertly trying to get closer to him— both wanting to steal his body heat and just be close to him.

Joel is a hard man to read. At first you thought he hated you, with all his prolonged silences and gruff remarks. Then, you thought he saw you as a somewhat annoying distant cousin. One that you’d socialise with for a few hours, but then quickly get sick of and look for an excuse to leave them until the next gathering. Once the family bond idea was thoroughly stamped out in a few of his secret heated gazes, or the way his hands would linger on your hips when he unnecessarily lifted you up onto your horse, it was just confusing.

But, you were determined to figure the man out. It’s not like he wouldn’t have your undivided attention anyways. He was a freaking cowboy— straight out of a romance novel. Thick accent, gentlemanly charm and an ass to die for. You were only human.

Still, the hay crunched as you tested your boundaries little by little, as you have been over the past few weeks. Getting closer, lingering longer, smiling sweeter. And it had… well, it affected him in some way, you were sure. But you just don’t know what way. God forbid you go back to the distant cousin stage—

A blast of wind slips through a crack in the walls, and you shudder and ball yourself up.

If Joel hears you, he says nothing, so you just drag the blanket he gave you off the top of your pile and down into the middle so it pressed against you. It smelt just like him— pine and wood and… maybe a little dirt. You two had been travelling for days, and he refused to let you get your hands dirty, so it would make sense.

You buried your face in it, warming the cold tip of your nose and trying to muffle your chattering teeth. It’s a good thing you were covering you mouth, because you nearly squeal when Joel whips around, his chocolate eyes staring right into yours.

“You alright?” He asks, his voice heavy with sleep, and you’d feel bad if his voice didn’t sound so goddamn sexy like that. Right out of a romance novel, you swear.

“Mhmm.” You manage to squeak out, your face covered up to your eyes.

“You lyin’?” He asks, and you repeat yourself. “C’mere.”

At first you’re confused, scrunched eyebrows giving you away. Then Joel pulls back the covers a little, physically inviting you into his chest, and you take the hint embarrassingly fast.

All of a sudden, you’re tucked into Joel’s warmth, surrounded by the smell the blanket only gave you a hint of. You stay face to face, enjoying the ease at which his body warms your hands and nose, and one of his arms drape over your side, keeping itself respectfully in the middle of your body.

Respectfully, you wouldn’t mind if he wandered a little lower, but you tried to keep those feelings at bay.

“Warmer?” He asks tightly as you cling to him, nodding quickly. He mumbles something else, a rough sound only discernible by the way his chest rumbles with it, your cold hands slowly thawing out against it.

"T-thanks." His arm wraps around you tighter when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, the cord of your strange relationship tangling ever so slightly just like your legs do under the covers. "Nice and cosy."

You giggle at your own joke, and he scoffs. "Christ. Go to sleep."

Your laughter fades off as your breathing evens out, and pretty soon you're drifting off into sleep, Joel's arms keeping you warmer than ever.

*you can stop reading here if you aren't a whore. however, i am, so i will continue*

It must be a few hours before your eyes open again. Joel is fast asleep, soft puffs of hair warming the top of your head as your eyes flutter open to complete darkness. You've tangled even more in your sleep, unconsciously wanting to be closer, not just for warmth.

His strong leg nestled between your thighs has nothing to do with body warmth.

When you start to gain a little more of yourself from the cover of sleep, theres a mess between your legs you can't deny. Joel moves slightly as you stir, a choked little whimper escaping your throat as he pushes against you just right. Theres no part of you effected by the cold wind outside— your whole body floods white hot, two strong arms trapping you to feel nothing but the way he's against you.

It's wrong. You should pull away, or wake him up, or do something to drive a wedge between you and Joel. You hardly know for sure if he likes you, let alone wants you like...this.

Then he shifts again, a little roll of his body sending sparks up your stomach, and you make a small sound again.

"You enjoyin' yourself?" You freeze, eyes squeezing shut as you try to deny your body the sleepy pleasure it's taking from him.

"J-joel—" You squeak, a noise embarrassingly high pitched, but his hand tightens on your hip and alleviates some of the nerves.

"It's alright, darlin'. You take what you need." He murmurs, and dips his head, pressing a light kiss underneath your ear. Your hips roll experimentally, and he hums in approval. “That’s it. That’s it.”

"I... oh god, Joel." His hand guides you forward and back, setting a slow but intense fire in your tummy that licks higher and higher every shift.

"How's it feel? Good?" He kisses you again, this time on your cheek.

"S-so good."

"You got no idea how many times I wanted to wake up like this..." You think of all the times you've slept mere inches away from him, but never having the guts to make the move. "Can feel how wet you are f'me."

You shiver, getting more restless as he starts to grind you against his thigh a little faster than before, rocking into you as you slump against his chest again. His free hand grabs your jaw harsher than you expect, bringing your face to his to kiss you hungrily. It's messy and consuming, teeth bashing together as the two of you attempt to find a rhythm that doesn't stop the sweetness of your bodies colliding together.

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, the way your clit runs easily along his now slick thigh, your heart stuttering in your chest as you hear him groan into your mouth, clearly feeling as pent up as you are. The hand on your hip locks under your thigh then, hitching it up higher on his side, the new angle making it all the more intense and having you whine into the kiss.

Joel's tongue dominates your mouth, fills you with the taste of him you've imagined in countless nights alone but never quite perfected. He's overwhelming— pulling you up and on top of him all while keeping your mouth tightly sealed to his own. He swallows your little noises, covering them with his own groans and sighs of your name as you ride him, your mind racing with images of how he'd feel under all these layers.

"Fuck, darlin' I'm not gonna last if you keep..." He breathes out, hands travelling down your back to cup your ass. You lean down and kiss him messily, and move your hips at your own pace, chasing your high.

"It's okay— please, Joel." He grumbles something against your lips, and you just shake your head. "We can do whatever… whatever you want later. Just keep going."

He shudders, your hint of permission enough to send him over the edge. You manage to open you eyes and look at him when he cums, his eyelashes fluttering and his tight jaw going slack with pleasure. That paired with the feeling of his muscles going tight and the way he says your name, you cum with him, your hands gripping tight on his curls and you muffle yourself once again into the crook of his neck.

Neither of you have the energy to move, your overwrought nerves and exhausted body collapsing on top of him. He keeps kissing you lazily, the way your tongues tangle together indulgent of each others tastes. His arms move around you, tucking you in to the blankets so that no part is exposed to the cold, and when your body is covered he gives his hands free reign to roam your skin.

Rough pads of his fingers trail up your spine, pushing up under the layers of clothes to feel your skin against his. As you settle into his soothing touches, the reality that the two of you just came on each other like teenagers has you all hot in the face and shut your eyes tight. He pulls away, his nose nudging your face to look at him.

“You okay, baby?” He says softly, a little smirk on his face when you manage to sneak a look at him. You nod shyly, and his hands drop lower and settle on your ass again before trailing up. “That was… unexpected.”

You look down. “I’m really sorry if I just—“

“No, baby no. Not bad. Good… fucking perfect. Wish I could wake up to that every morning.” He grins, and it takes years off his usual scowling face. “Just thought I’d maybe… take you out first. I got no problem skippin’ straight to dessert though, if that’s what you want.”

“Dinners good.” You smile, and he seems a little relived at that, like maybe he might enjoy it just as much as what comes after. “Desserts good, too.”

He laughs, the sound bouncing off the wooden box of a cabin you’re stuck in, but with Joel holding you like this, the cabin is quickly becoming one of your favourite places in Jackson.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

KNIGHT SUKUNA AND WITCH READER BUT...BUT WITCH READER FOUND INJURED KNIGHT SUKUNA..AND FLUFF FLUFF

Okay, I NEED to work on Kinktober, but I also NEED to work on this, so were gonna do a warm up, 'kay cool? 'Kay cool!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You always knew when there was something wrong with the woods. The trees told you when something was amiss. And as you made your early morning walk through the woods, the forest was clear: Something was very wrong.

You assumed it was because of the bloody battle from the night before. It took place just outside of the treeline, a battle between the warring kingdoms. You honestly didn't know all of the details, nor did you care. You lived outside of their drama for a reason.

You found yourself making your way to the battle field, pulled by some unseen force to check out the scene. It was about as bad as you expected, a gruesome field where the two sides didn't even have the decency to bury their dead. You took a deep breath, and started to gather flowers.

You weren't strong enough to bury so many people, but you did have a heart. So you adorned the bodies with flowers and blessings as you thanked them for their bravery and wished them a peaceful eternity.

The sun was at it's peak, the afternoon coming and warming the land as you made your way to the final corpse. You began to place the wild chrysanthemums around the dead, only to feel your own ghost jump out of your skin when he groaned.

"Holy shit, you're alive?!" You gasped as the body man groaned, aggressively brushing the flowers away.

"Barely." He grumbled, failing to sit up and coughing up a lung. You quickly turned him over, observing his bloodied armor. There in the space between armor, was a deep and gory gash right into his side.

"Oh that looks really bad." You mumbled as you assess his damage.

"You don't say?" He snapped, and suddenly you felt way less inclined to help. But sadly, you're humanity got the better of you, and you knew you had to help him.

"Can you walk?"

"Do you think I'd still be laid up in this fucking field if I could?"

"Yeah, okay that's fair. That's...Oh boy." You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders as you got ready for the task at hand. Your cabin wasn't far from here, you just needed to get him there. Okay, feet shoulder width apart, keep your neck and back straight, left with your knees and-

"HOLY SHIT- Are you made out of metal?!" You gasped as you struggled to lift him.

"No, but I'm covered in it!" The man snapped, struggling to roll away from you, "What the hell are you doing anyway?!"

"I'm trying to take you home!"

"You could buy me a drink first." This guy was getting more and more annoying by the minuet.

"You're very chatty for a dead man, you know that?" You snapped.

"Probably because I'm not dead!" He snapped back. "I'm just mostly dead. Big difference."

"Look, If you just come with me I can help you. I'm a-...a cleric."

"A cleric?" He asked suspiciously. He didn't fight you this time as you tried to lift him up, instead working with you to get him semi-mobile. "For which god?"

"One of the godly ones." You (poorly) bluffed as you walked him to your cabin, struggling to support his body weight but managing none the less.

"I've heard better lies from dead men." The knight scoffed.

"Keep this up and you'll be a dead man." Ether due to your threat being just that effective- or all the searing pain he was in, he didn't talk much after that. The only other sound he made was a groan as you got him home and moved his arm to take off his armor.

You worked quick, brewing together a balm to help with the infection. You spread it over the injury before carefully sewing him up, and then forcing him to eat a goodberry for good measure.

He slept after that. Peacefully in your spare bed. Every once in a while you would check his pulse to make sure he was still of this world, and he would stir slightly but never enough to fully wake. He was up just in time for a late dinner.

"What's you're name witch?" He asked as he sat across from you, more playing with his stew than actually eating it. You felt your face catch fire as he asked that.

"What?! I told you, I'm a cleric, why on earth would you call me a wi-" He cut you off by pointing at your alter. Oh. Yeah, that would give it away, huh? You sighed as you told him your name. He nodded, rolling it around in his head.

"Pretty name." He finally said.

"And what's yours?" You asked.

"Sir Ryomen Sukuna of the-"

"Yeah, I don't need your full title. Just Ryomen was fine."

He licked his teeth as he took you in. It wasn't often he found someone willing to go tit for tat with him like this. Most people just shrink in front of him. He liked that change of pace. He might just keep you around.

"Right, I'm reporting you for witchcraft in the morning for the disrespect."

"You do that and I'm taking my sutures back!" you warned.

[metalmusingmoments]

@lonelycupcakelol bare with me lol

Bayverse Optimus prime x Human reader.

Takes place during the forth movie where reader and Optimus reunite after each of them went into hiding.

Xxxx

The aftermath of Chicago had left a bitter taste on the human race. The Autobots had defeated the Decepticons but at the cost of thousands of lives and a city. That’s how the world saw it anyway.

The government was quick to react and NEST was disbanded. Only a select few would remain to act as liaisons. Any known human collaborators would be put on house arrest and Autobots would be restricted to a remote base in Nevada.

A year and a half after the battle, the Whitwicky family broke probation and couldn’t be found. Sam, his wife and new born son had escaped. The government was quick to pin it on Bumblebee but he and every other bot had been confined to the base. Y/N never saw Sam again.

When Lennox started to become distant Y/N began to worry. Acting as one of the liaisons between the Autobots and the government constant contact was a necessity, and above that they were friends. Or so Y/N thought.

The last conversation Y/N had with Lennox he had told them he “had to put his family first”. His last attempt to give them all a warning. An hour later the President declared all Cybertronians a threat to the world and the base descended into chaos.

Optimus had given orders to just get out and to keep contact to a minimum. Y/N had refused to leave his side and so you left together. That was two years ago.

At a truck stop somewhere in Tennessee you hastily stuffed your bag back full of your belongings. Grateful for the shower but wary of the time, you made your way back to Optimus. He was sporting a simple red and blue paint job without his traditional flames.

As you climbed back into the cab you stuffed your bag into the back and pulled out a map.

“We’ll have to get off 75 soon. We can’t go through Knoxville… I’m worried they’ll have sensors outside the city that could break through the shields.”

He didn’t respond as he watched you flip your map over and then back over again in frustration.

“Maybe we should backtrack and get on 27 then 40. Should we go south or north again?” You asked more to yourself.

“Y/N you cannot ignore this conversation” his deep voice filled the cabin.

“I heard you the first time and the answer is still no. I’m not leaving.” You refused to look into rear view mirror as you tried to figure out the next move. “Alright. We back track and hit 27 then we can figure out if we want to take 40” folding up the map you placed it back in your bag and reached for the seatbelt. It didn’t budge.

“Optimus” you pleaded as you tried pulling the seatbelt again.

“No.” The finality of that one word made you feel hollow. “The attack we suffered on the road last week was the end of this. I can not keep you safe…” he whispered

“And you think I‘ll be safer without you!” you snapped “I’ll end up just like Sam and-“

“We don’t know what happened to him and his family. They could be-“

“He’s dead Optimus!” you screeched “Cemetery Wind wants all of us dead and you want me to just fuck off to some remote cabin!? They’ll find me there and us separating will have been for nothing! Why are you doing this!?” You sobbed.

“Because I do not know what else to do!” His angered shout had you sinking into the seat. In all the time you had been together you had never once seen him raise his voice, and now it was at you. “They are more concerned with finding me. You will go to this location and you will stay there. If you believe it’s been compromised you will go to the next location I’ve chosen” he threw himself into reverse and started heading south. “They will not think to look for you on city outskirts.”

“I’m not your soldier” you hissed back through your tears.

“No…no you are not” he said quietly as they drove.

You rode in silence as the sky began to darken. Optimus soon pulled over onto the shoulder and parked.

“You need to head west into these woods for about a mile. You will find the location marked on this map.” The glove box popped open with a manila envelope. “They keys are in there as well as an Identification card and currency.”

“You’ve had this planned” you breathed taking the envelope in a shaky hand.

“…Yes” the admission sounded like he was in physical pain as he opened the door.

“I don’t want to leave you. I love you” the tears were now streaming down your face again as grabbed your bags.

“I know… I know as I love you, but this is not forever” he soothed. “Once it is safe I will come back for you and if your are not here I will find you. I promise you that.”

You slid out of the seat onto the ground and closed the door softly pressing your head against the door.

“Please” you tried in one last vain attempt.

“My spark… you must go.”

You pushed away from the door letting your hand rest there for a second longer as you stared at Optimus for what could be the last time.

With a sharp inhale you hiked your bags further up onto your shoulders and turned to hike up the steep incline into the woods.

When you could no longer see the road you heard the roar of his engine take off.

Xxxx

Optimus would send status updates to you and the other bots as often as he could through the secure channels.

Three months after arriving at your new home they had stopped.

Xxxx

3 years and 5 impromptu make shift homes later you found yourself in Wyoming of all places.

You had to ditch the planned route of homes Optimus had given you after you had shown up to the second one already turned upside down in a search. Destroying the small radio you had used to keep tabs on the other Autobots had been one of the most difficult decisions you had had to make over the past 3 years.

You had secluded yourself in a tiny off grid cabin with no internet or tv on a lake in the hopes that Optimus would indeed find you like he promised.

Working in your small garden you heard the sound of car engine. Not impossible for someone to be driving by but also highly unusual. You darted back into your house to grab your rifle and hid along the wall.

You couldn’t see where the car was but someone was getting out and skipping up the stairs onto your porch.

Clicking off the safety you waited.

A knock followed by a man’s voice.

“Hello? Uh… is there a Y/N L/N here? Hello!?” He pounded on the door this time.

Slowly you slid your way over to the front door placing your hand on the door knob and quickly throwing it open. You pointed the rifle into the man’s face.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! What the hell man!?” The guy shouted as he stumbled back on the porch. You only advanced.

“Who the hell are you?” Voice hoarse from disuse.

“Cade! My names Cade Yeager! Bee said you would be friendly! Get that gun outta my face!” He said swatting aimlessly.

Moving your eyes behind the man you saw the the yellow camaro begin to shift as you let out a strangled gasp dropping your gun.

You pushed past Cade as you ran down the steps to Bumblebee’s kneeling form arms outstretched.

A/N/ - part 2 tomorrow it’s 2am 😭 I do head cannon that at-least Sam got whacked between 3-4. Cemetery wind was out for blood… also I’m making the reunion movie 5 cause Optimus had no time for nothing in 4 and you’ll see why in part 2😘

[sitp-recs]

hey liv!! my gf moves back home and away from me soon its been an emotional time in our household do you have any drarry recs that involve them long distancing/waiting for the other to come back to them ❤️‍🩹 thanks for all your work appreciate you !

I’m so sorry to hear that anon, sending hugs your way. It’s tough to navigate long-distance relationships but I know you guys will find your way back to each other soon enough ❤️‍🩹 I hope these recs can offer you some comfort:

Relic Radiation by @tackytigerfic (M, 1k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

On Your Way by @lqtraintracks (M, 2k)

Draco waits for Harry to return from an Auror mission.

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k) - AU

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Litany by thistle_verse (M, 7k)

With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him.

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

i wake up falling, orphaned (M, 9k)

Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

Sunseeker by @shiftylinguini (E, 15k)

Harry is a struggling writer. Namely, he is struggling with: writing his next book, dealing with his agent, finding a decent tea strainer, fielding his friend's concern over the aforementioned book, and figuring out who the cat loitering in his garden belongs to. He also has a slight liking-Malfoy problem. Okay, he has a massive liking-Malfoy problem.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Just Give Me a Reason by sassy_cissa (E, 24k)

It's easy to misunderstand a situation when you're in the same country – when your new boyfriend is thousands of miles away, it's nearly impossible. Toss in an unexpected pregnancy, an ex-boyfriend and The Prophet with its exaggerations and it's no wonder Draco is confused.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Tapestry by @kbrick (E, 91k)

This is a love story that isn't perfect, about two people whose timing is never quite right, and all the moments that come together to make something extraordinarily beautiful anyway.

[fvkvrodani]

au where everything is the same except arthur survived... & heres how it can happen:

the fight w micah happens,, but arthur manages to hurt micah really badly w a knife to the knee & cracked some of his bones by slamming him against the rocks (they were fighting near a crevice at the mountain top...... arthur couldve literally just slammed micah against the edge of the crevice & made him bleed heavily from his head or smth).

so the fight isnt as one-sided ish as in canon. its now even bc yea arthur can play dirty too during a fight for his very life. he aint above stabbing ppl w a knife, cmon now.

so the fight happens w a whole lot of injuries sustained by both men. everything goes down the exact same as in the game.

arthur doesnt die; he passes out from his injuries. charles & sadie go back for him while tilly stays w the marstons. they got to him & took him to a doctor just in time for the doc to heal his wounds... altho the doc wasnt very optimistic abt arthur's chances of survival, charles & sadie still took the chance anyway.

they move to live in a cabin in the woods, a little far from civilization but not completely secluded bc arthur still needs access to meds & the doctor. charles & sadie tell the marstons + tilly abt this, & only tilly goes over to live w charles sadie & arthur while the marstons wanna start over & keep things on the down low. (john pays off his own bounty w the money arthur gave to the marstons, so now hes federally pardoned.)

several months pass & arthur gets a little better. he still has tb tho... but its more manageable now than it was before. he gets into an argument w tilly charles & sadie bc they wanted to stay w him while he, very self-deprecatingly, told them to just leave him alone in the cabin & go live their new, free lives now.

they, ofc, didnt listen bc "shut tf up arthur. we wanna stay w you bc we care abt you. you did everything for us... allow us to care for you. not that we wouldnt even if you didnt allow it." in sadie's words... more or less.

tilly still gets her happy ending, marrying a lawyer & all tho... it just happens very later on after arthur got better & was federally pardoned too. he attended her wedding as the man who walked her down the aisle & he was definitely, 100% bawling his eyes out bc thats his baby sister getting married!!!

mary & jamie gillis learn of arthur's survival when they saw him, charles, sadie, & tilly in... whichever town they all ended up in. tilly immediately had her guard up while charles & sadie were more welcoming to mary & jamie bc. theyve no fucking idea what the history is. arthur was... equally happy & wary.

mary didnt want his help this time tho!! she was just worried abt him. the two of them talk things out & mary finds out that arthur gave away the proposal ring to john; she was so happy abt that... but also sad.

jamie, on the other hand, was hint hint nudge nudge-ing the two of them—like hell is he gonna let this new opportunity for them go by! not like before. he might as well put matchmaker in his resume after graduating university bc of how he was trying so, so hard to make mary & arthur go on dates. (he just wants his own little family back...)

tilly wasnt happy abt any of that but she just. threatened the gillis w a smile on her face that if they did anything to her older brother, theyll be hearing from her personally :)))) & its not gonna be pretty :)))) so mary better not hurt him again :))))

(it was during that moment that sadie & charles realized how alike tilly & arthur are.)

anyway this is getting long to tl;dr: arthur survived bc of charles & sadie. then mary & arthur do, in fact, end up together again & this time... it works. it finally works. just like arthur promised her.

[frickfrackiwastakingabath]

First time really posting WRITING of ocs on here, ha... anyway if you haven't check out my drawing of Lark and Lucia! That's not what they're gonna look like really now but you know... also Lark's name is now Elowen.

Anyways, enjoy!

...

Pinning Beetles I: The Capture

Content: abused animal and implied animal abuse, enchantment magic, fearplay, dehumanization, trapped in a cage, fear of death

...

Elowen seldom meets other fairies out in the forest. Well, this part of it. The other fairies moved in deeper in fear of a few witches settling down around.

And witches were scary! Of course witches were scary. They were twenty times her size and liked magic, which fairies had... Elowen tried not to believe everything she hears but the stories of witches crushing fairies with pestol and mortar to put in potions or plucking off their wings with no effort for charms... or even catching them in lanterns to feed off their magic for who KNOWS how long... Elowen was cautious.

But she also had a duty to all the animals who lived by the witch populated area. Which there were quite a few- there were only about three or four witch cabins spread out in the forest so the animals lived on normally as all the fairies moved on away. And so far, after about a month, Elowen hasn't even SEEN a cabin, let alone a witch.

The fairy flew up, talking with a crow, who had asked her to watch her chicks as she went out for food. But out in the distance she heard a wolf, whimpering, crying... and her heart dropped. He was in such pain...

"Where are you going?" The crow hopped towards her on the branch. Most fairies would have been startled, but Elowen could never be scared of a bird, or any other animal. She was good at talking to them... more than she was at talking to other fairies that is- and they've never threatened her.

"Didn't you hear that?" Elowen frowned, fluttering her wings impatiently and going on her tip toes as if she could see over the trees, where the cry came from. "A wolf- he's in trouble I need to-"

"Oh, kid that way is WITCH territory." She cawed, feathers ruffling. "Don't you need to stay away from that lot? Even I barely go over there, and I'm not the one with magic they want."

"He needs help..." Elowen jumped, hovering in the air. "Take care..."

She gave a short wave to the crow and her chicks, flying between the branches towards the continual cries. They just about broke her heart... Elowen hated to see animals in pain, they were often more kind to her than other fairies, she couldn't help but want to help them and keep them all safe-

Oh wow. Witch cabins were big.

In front of Elowen was a structure that went up forever, at least two moose tall. The wood felt darker than the wood from the trees that grew around, and the windows let her peer inside to see desks of bottles and jars of different liquids and bugs and scraps. It was very very imposing, and didn't quite fit in with the serene forest.

But there- there at the back if the house was the wolf, bound in silver chains and head buried in his paws. He had several scars, and was very skinny and weak looking. His mouth was muzzled... but Elowen HAD to try to talk to him, her heart breaking even at just the sight.

... and while Elowen wasn't keen on confronting the witch for any reason her blood boiled at the thought of them doing this to the wolf. There was NO reason to be this cruel.

She flew up, hovering in front of his closed eyes. "... hello?"

The wolf's eyes snapped open, confused a second. "Wh... what are you?"

Well that was strange. Every animal knew about fairies, even animals from the city. Elowen tilted her head, blinking. "I'm a fairy... which you didn't know about for some reason but you're trapped here aren't you..."

The wolf growled, but Elowen didn't back up. He was bound, and they were just having a conversation. "I'm fine. I don't need your help. YOU need to get out of here."

"Why?" Elowen asked. "Because of the witch? Did they do this to you?"

He flattened his ears to his head, backing up. "She can't know I'm talking to anyone... please, for your own good just LEAVE while you can."

"Not while you're still here!" Elowen protested, flying behind his head. She was pained to see him flinch, poor thing was probably scared she'd hurt him when he couldn't see her... she inspected the silver chains. "How do I take these off?"

The wolf huffed. "Can you pick locks?"

"What's a lock?"

"Right." He bore his teeth, looking to the side. His voice got increasingly bitter. "The witch has a key inside, but it's stupid risky. And I can't even leave if I wanted to, she's the one who made me like this. I need her to turn me back."

"Turn you back...?" Elowen flew back to in front of him, not wanting to keep him on edge. "What are you talking-"

"You need to go, now." The wolf snapped his head back to look right at her, ears up. Before he was grumpy and sad... now he was just terrified. "Get out of here!"

"But how do I help you!" Elowen hummed nervously. She couldn't just leave him here!

"I don't need help from you, help me by LEAVING!" The wolf barked, growling and making her, flinch back at the noise.

No! Elowen couldn't just leave him, that can't be it that she just can't help! "But-..."

There was beautiful singing, from somewhere beyond the tree line to the cabin. When was the last time she heard someone sing... the voice was as delicate as a song bird.

The wolf tilted his head as Elowen hovered, still a second before floating towards the song. "Fairy- kid, kid! Don't!"

There, the singer. A woman, with long white hair. She wasn't old though, there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She wore dark clothes, a long dress that touched the forest floor and an apron with pockets full of plants and feathers and some small bones and tufts of fur. She was smiling at Elowen as she flew up, the witch's hand held out open in front of her for the fairy to land on. As soon as she touched down, gloved fingers wrapped around her, not being to gentle with folding her wings, and restricting her arms and legs.

"Well, what have we here?" The witch hummed, and the singing spell was broken. Elowen's heart spiked, and she began to struggle. "I didn't know there'd be FAIRIES in these parts..."

"L- let g-" Elowen squeaked as the witch's hand squeezed around her. She froze, her throat closing up in fear.

"Oh, was Abel the one who brought you here?" She tilted her head up, casting a look over to the wolf, who flinched and hid at the sight. She smiled back down at Elowen, all her teeth out on display. "Awwww, thought you could play hero, did you?"

Elowen felt like she was going to throw up. She got caught by a witch she was going to DIE none of the other fairies even knew what was happening to her she should have just gone with them the one animal that actually needs her help she couldn't save and now she's going to DIE for it-

"Cat caught your tongue?" The witch chuckled, making her way towards the door of her cabin. "You're a frightful little thing aren't you... that scared little look on your face is just adorable."

"Please-" Elowyn did not care how shaky her voice sounded, how much her antenna were quivering. "Please just-"

"Now, none of that." The witch's expression grew cold as she pressed her thumb to Elowen's chest, squeezing the breath out of her. She shut up immediately. The witch chuckled, feeling her little heart beat. "You should have known better than to come into witch territory, little one. I have just the place for you..."

Elowen's skull rattled in her head, as smooth as the witch's steps inside were she was still being held too tight and being jostled around.

Inside the cabin the air was must, warm and suffocating compared to the cool forest outside. She took Elowen and threw her into a small cage- too small for any bird, though Elowen was smaller. The ground was metal and cold, and the whole thing shined faintly with gold.

Elowen yelped as the witch lifted the cage and put it down harshly on her desk, littered with jars and scrolls and open books.

The little fairy backed up, flattening her back and wings to the side of the cage farthest from where the witch sat down and began to write.

She took a few shaky breaths, too shallow to get her to calm down. How could she calm down?! She was in a cage and a witch caught her and she was gonna be put in a potion or killed for parts... "... w-what are you going... to do to me?"

"Hm?" The witch did not look up, finishing whatever she wrote and putting all the little things in her pockets into different drawers and cabinets.

"... are you going to put me in a potion?" Elowen said in a small voice, keeping her careful eyes on the witch.

She looked at her, and began laughing all too loud. The fairy flinched her hands up to her ears, the high pitch vibrating through her whole body. Eventually she quieted down, still smiling as if tormenting her was just so amusing. "No, little one. Not yet at least. But I can't have you helping my familiar."

"... the wol... Abel is your familiar?" Elowen blinked, confused. Witches loved their familiars... and familiars were loyal to their witches.

"No, but he will be." With a single finger the witch tilted the cage towards her from the top, sending Elowen falling forward. "So I can't have little pests like you ruining all my progress, yes? Besides, you're certainly... an entertaining one. Your fear is just delicious."

Elowen whimpered, yelping as the witch flicked the cage to its normal position. Just as she got readjusted, a hand slammed down right beside her.

"Your name, little one?" The witch tilted her head. "If you don't give me it, I'll choose one for you."

The fairy gulped, taking a shaky breath. She hates the thought of being called some cutesy pet name... and from what she could tell the witch planned to keep her as a pet. "E- Elowen."

"Good, good. My name is Lucia, but as your owner you will call me master, or nothing at all. Yes?"

Elowen nodded, not daring to speak again. The witch- Lucia went back to organizing the desk, occasionally moving Elowen's cage around to different spots before settling on the corner, right by her quill and ink.

Eventually Lucia left, and by then it was dark outside. It was impossible to lay down comfortably in the cage Elowen would soon discover, so she sat criss cross, leaning her head against a bar.

Through shaky breaths, Elowen seeped silently, until the stress of the day finally cought up and put her to sleep.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I don't remember where I read this small fic about Reader and the BAU team getting in a car crash but I honestly need more lol

Male Reader isn't a driver, he's more into motorcycles because they don't need as much spacial awareness as cars do. But ue does know how to drive since you need a drivers license to get a motorcycle license. Well during a long drive to find an unsub's location out in the woods, the team took turns driving. Derek knows that Reader is uncomfortable being behind a wheel and volunteers to stay up with him, making sure he's okay like the dad friend he is.

What the team doesnt know is that the unsub knows they're being followed and so the unsub decides to cause a wreck by speeding down one of the darkened trails in the woods and hits the BAU car

You can decide how injured everyone is and I hope this is an okay request

Is there a possibility it was this fic ?

Word count: 1152

Warnings: car crash, impaled, injuries, blood

"How far out is this place?" JJ asks. Your current suspect (who you were almost 100% sure was the unsub) lived in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods.

"Four hours,"

"I'm sorry, it's four hours out?!" You exclaimed, head whipping in Hotch's direction. "He's driving four hours to dump a body? That's commitment..."

"What's the driving schedule?" Emily asked.

"Me, Morgan, Rossi and then (Y/N)," Hotch said.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," You say, hesitant. "I don't drive that often..."

"Hey man, I'll stay up, keep you company," Morgan offers with a grin, knowing that being the only one awake would add to your worry.

"Thanks," You give him a grin.

"What is it with you and motorcycles, anyway?" Emily teases.

"I don't need as much spatial awareness with them," You explain with a smirk.

She turned to Hotch, "Are we really letting this guy drive?"

"Just get in the car," Morgan laughed. The first two and a half hours of the journey, you were fine, not too anxious, knowing that you had a while before you actually had to drive. Then during Morgan's shift, he decides to stop for coffee - and naturally, you drink one too. Which was a bad move because now you're anxious as fuck. It starts with your knees bouncing, hands shaking, before you force your eyes closed and picture a variety of different movie scenes - mentally rewriting them so they ended the way they should have.

And, soon enough, it's your turn. Morgan makes sure to sit in the passenger seat, so that when everyone goes to sleep, at least you have him to chat to without worrying so much that you might wake the others.

Morgan, as promised, stays awake and you both find yourself debating the alternative movie endings you came up with earlier. Apparently, Morgan doesn't believe that Tony should have lived at the end of Endgame (and honestly, he's wrong - and you make sure to tell him that).

You pause the current conversation, squinting into the darkness, trying to figure out what it was exactly you could see just past the light of the headlights. "What the-?"

Morgan joins you in your confusion. You get slightly closer, slowing down just in case. And you can see the number plate, "Is that the unsub's vehicle?" Morgan asks, you're about to answer when the lights flick on and the car's speeding towards you with no sign of swerving.

"Shit!" You yell, swerving until a tree seemingly appears from nowhere and you slam the breaks, but it's too late and the car collides with the tree and then unsub's vehicle collides with the SUV. Your grip on the wheel is tight, even as the car crumbles, even as the metal dents around your legs and sides, even as the air bag activates and winds you, even as a sharp pain hits your torso. And then your grip loosens as you lose consciousness.

When you come to, the first thing you register is the pain, every part of your body hurts. "Is- Is everyone okay?" You ignore the tears that are starting to build, both from the smoke and the pain.

"We're all okay back here," Hotch answered with a small groan, moving his hand over his face.

"Is everyone awake?" You asked, various voices chimed in, confirming that they were all awake and okay. "Morgan?" You turned your head, panic gnawing at your stomach when you saw that he was still unconscious. You reach out, biting back a yelp when pain spread through your arm - you ignore it and lightly tap his face. "Morgan? Derek?"

"I think he's out for the count," Hotch mumbles and you nod, anxiety gnawing at your stomach. And pain. You let your eyes flicker down to your stomach, just to make sure you're okay. You know it's probably a few bruised ribs, maybe a few broken, but nothing major. But then you see the metal rod and your stomach drops.

"H'tch-" It comes out as a whisper, "Hotch-"

"(Y/N)? (Y/N), what's wrong?"

"I-" You have no clue how to even describe it. There was fumbling and the sound of a low groan, Hotch. You shut your eyes, trying to get rid of the mental image of a metal rod sticking out of your abdomen. You open your eyes when a hand gently taps your cheek, Hotch gives you a small but reassuring smile. "Hotch,"

"I know," He replies, eyes not leaving yours, "I know, but you're going to be just fine, alright?"

When you nod, he turns behind him, "Can you check on Morgan?"

Then there's movement to your right, "Morgan?" JJ. Okay, someone was looking after Morgan, that's good.

"Hey," You look back at Hotch. "The ambulance is on its way, okay? You're going to be okay,"

"There's a whole ass metal rod in my stomach right now Hotch-"

"Let's not think about that right now,"

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." You nod. "Is Morgan okay?"

"He looks okay," JJ reassures, "I think he's just unconscious,"

You nod and sirens fill your ears and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

As it turns out, it was not for 'just a moment' but rather several moments. Many hours worth. In fact, since closing your eyes, you've had surgery, nurses have monitored your other injuries, set your arm in a cast, and bandaged you up. Derek had also woken up as the ambulance arrived, confused and dazed to say the least, but otherwise okay. He's not happy with the idea of staying overnight in the hospital, but a firm look from Hotch has him sighing and nodding.

You wake up, three hours after the surgery with a groan, you felt a dull ache, despite the numbing effect of the drugs. "(Y/N)?"

"H'tch," You give a small smile, despite the ache. "Morgan okay?"

"He's okay, everyone - including you - is okay,"

"That's good," You hum before you wince slightly, throat hurting. With a small roll of the eyes, Hotch hands you a small glass of water.

"Small sips," He reminds you, studying your face for a moment before turning back to his newspaper ('since when did Hotch reads newspapers?'). "They didn't have any good books to buy in the shop," Hotch answers.

"You're such a dad," You snort.

"Yep, now get some sleep or I'll ground you and that includes visitors," He answers. When you stare at him in confusion, trying to figure out if he's joking, he looks up and you and you quickly screw your eyes shut - just in case.

Turns out, it's a rather affective way to get to sleep and soon enough, you're waking up. This time, Morgan's there and you immediately grin. "Morgan!" You cheer and Morgan laughs.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," He teases.

"Whatever," You scoff, "I didn't have the chance to tell you, but how dare you say Tony Stark shouldn't have survived after defeating Thanos."

[hoziernaturalevents]

MEET THE AUTHORS!

Here's a peek at our list of authors and some of their past works to give you a taste of what you can expect from them in the coming months!

@amypond45

Link to Work

Title: If We Live Through This Rating: Mature Words: 13,421 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, Lisa Braeden Additional Tags: Post Season 6 AU, Wincest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Lucifer's Cage Summary: Dean feels like a failure when he can’t get Sam out of the Cage. When Sam just shows up one day, with no memory of how he got out, Dean is beyond grateful but wracked with guilt too. Sam’s too traumatized to hunt, so he and Dean settle down in a cabin in the woods, near a lake. But Sam has nightmares of the Cage, and Dean’s guilt makes him desperate to atone for his failure to get Sam out by giving Sam everything and anything he needs, even if it means crossing that line Dean swore he’d never cross.

@avalonsilver

Link to Work

Title: Once Upon a Blue Moon Rating: Teen and Up Words: 9,347 Relationship(s): Castiel/Sam Winchester, Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jimmy Novak Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Mystery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Shortly after Gadreel's exit, Cas and Sam spend time in the Bunker so Cas can heal him. With trepidation, Cas also returns a memory that Sam doesn't know he'd lost years ago. It’s an old memory of a chance meeting with Jimmy Novak when Sam was nineteen and on his way to Stanford. The memory's effect on Sam is one neither had been expecting.

@cautiouslycas

Link to Work

Title: The Toy Soldier Tattoo Rating: Teen and Up Words: 17,999 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Anna Milton Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Casitel, Benny Lafitte, Anna Milton, Jo Harvelle Additional Tags: Missing Persons, Hospitals, Mentins of Wounds, Mentions of Kidnappings, Mention of Character Death, Nightmares, Tattoos, Tattoo Artist Castiel Summary: Two years after Sam disappears, police officials inform Mary and Dean Winchester there are no more trails for them to follow. The case is cold until new evidence makes its way over to them. It’s the day Dean gets his first tattoo. In honour of Sam. That night, he walks out of the tattoo shop with not only a brand new toy soldier tattoo on his thigh, but also with a crush on his ridiculously cute tattooist Cas. As life continues and his relationship with Cas unfolds, life proves it will keep going on even without his brother and maybe, he should move on too.

@lazarus-rose

Link to Work

Title: This Tainted Love You've Given Rating: Explicit Words: 17,100 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore Additional Tags: Murder Husbands, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Witch Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Choking, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Murder Kink, Temporary Character Death, Minor Character Death, Dark, Innocent Castiel, well not that innocent but kind of, Blood and Violence, Torture, they're both unhinged but there's also the power of love, Sort Of, Mentioned Animal Murder, Naked Castiel, Immortal Castiel Summary: Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

@mbqnoyolo

Link to Work

Title: Rutting Moon Rating: Explicit Words: 16,961 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cesar Cuevas/Jesse Cuevas Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cesar Cuevas, Jesse Cuevas Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Generational Trauma, Child Loss, Indigenous Practices, Indigenous Language, Magick, Mpreg, Non-Omegaverse, Ojibwemowin, Shape Shifting, Bisaan, References to Residential Schools, Pregnant Castiel, Original Characters, OC Indigenous Person Summary: In Grassy Butte, North Dakota an old woman remembers her long walk home after being torn from her family as a child and a young woman mourns a loss no parent should know.

@masoena

Link to Work

Title: Guardian Angel Dean Winchester Rating: Explicit Words: 13,456 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Post-Season/Series Finale, Angelic Grace as Lube, Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Implied Switch Sam Winchester, Safe Sane and Consensual, Gay Sex, Angel Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Affection, First Time Bottoming, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Suicidal Thoughts, Mentioned Miracle the Dog, Mentioned Castiel, Mentioned God | Chuck Shurley, Mentioned Jack, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Taking Care of Sam Winchester, Taking Care Of Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Requited Love, Wincest, Sibling Incest, Brother/Brother Incest, Smut, Sex, Past Bottom Dean Winchester, implied bottom dean winchester Summary: Sam is in over his head on a solo hunt about a year since Dean passed way, he finds himself on the forest floor bleeding out and pretty much welcomes death as it would reunite him with his brother. Moments later he is tucked in a blanket in the backseat of the Impala and someone is in the front seat bench waiting for him to wake up. Big brother instincts never die, not even in literal death."

@sammichgirl

Link to Work

Title: All Too Familiar Rating: Explicit Words: 7,160 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod Additional Tags: Wincest, Witch!Sam, Soul Bond, Sex Magic, Post 15x20, Canon Divergent, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Slow Burn Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

@samanddean76

Link to Work

Title: Joyous Memories Amongst The Sorrow Rating: Mature Words: 878 Relationship(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer Additional Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Dead Dean Winchester, Sam Just Needs to do This One Thing, Post-Episode: S03E16 No Rest for the Wicked Summary: The hellhounds killed Dean. Now Sam needs to bury him. And he has the perfect spot all picked out.

@sevensugars

Link to Work (Sevensugars is sharing a rec of a favorite work from another author rather than one of her own)

Title: Every Living Thing by Askance Rating: Mature Words: 36,144 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Medicinal Drug Use, Disturbing Themes, Animal Death Summary: When a pair of hunters on the eastern coast witness the arrival of a very disturbing omen, it isn’t long before the news hurtles across the country, piquing the interest—and fear—of people everywhere. In a matter of days, the new, safe world that Sam, Dean, and Castiel have been inhabiting is flipped upside-down. Something enormous is coming—and this time, it’s something they can’t fight. Faced with rapidly diminishing prospects, holed up in a tiny, empty Nebraska town, they are forced to confront fears, secrets, and emotions that might have otherwise never seen the light of day. It seems every story must end somehow, and the only thing that remains to be done is to make the most of what little time they have left.

@thisisapaige

Link to Work

Title: Non Solum Rating: Explicit Words: 16,061 Relationship(s): Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester Additional Tags: AU-Fantasy, Witch Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, Huddling for Warmth, Injury, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-War, Sexual Content, Frottage, POV Castiel (mostly), Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss, First Time, Touch-Starved Castiel, Bad Parent John Winchester (or at least the residual effects of it because he's dead) Summary: Castiel lives a quiet life, a solitary life, a lonely life. He cannot risk anyone finding out he is a witch, lest any hunters seek out his isolated cabin in the frozen Northern Wastes. Interacting only with those who require his healing services, Castiel constructs an existence that ensures he will be alone. Alone, that is, until a bloodied, dying man crawls up to his front door and threatens to tear down everything Castiel has built.

[wandafiction]

Ex-Husband's Clothes - Just Us Chapter 13

Warnings: Fluff, lil over thinking again.

Word Count: 2392

Series List | Chapter 12 | Chapter 14

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

"Mine or yours?" Wanda breaks the silence that has fallen over us as we walk around the small lake at the park. After we sat down and the people watching session, we decided it would be nice to take a small walk around the area asking more cliché ice breakers. 

"Using my own question against me I see." I smirk down to the older woman who hasn't let go of my hand since we left the bench. 

"Well, because this was my date idea, I should be the one to ask." She defends lightly.

"That makes sense. I think it's best we go to yours, my sister is staying at my place for a few days. Needs a break from the wife and children apparently." We stop for a moment taking in the calm movement of the water, ripples dancing across the surface as a small breeze pulses through the air. I take a deep breath in allowing the smells of the park to engulf me, turning to look down at Wanda who is doing the same thing. "Shall we head back to the car?" 

"Yes! Let's go!" I laugh as she practically drags me out of the park, down the street and back to my car, the smile never leaving her face. Or mine. 

I pulled into a spot outside of the apartment building, the same one as I parked at this morning by some chance. I made sure to lock the car, double checking by pulling the handles (you can never be too careful); and followed Wanda into the building. When we arrived at her front door, number 10 written on the front, she started to fumble with her keys. An obvious nervousness making its way into her movements and face.

"You okay princess?" I ask gently, as she stops fumbling and takes a breath to relax herself.

"Yeah I'm just not sure what state I left it in this morning. I was more worried about what I looked like than what my place looked like." She finally finds the right key, opening the door slowly. 

I will tell you the truth...her apartment was...immaculate. I don't know what she was so worried about. Wanda showed me around the small apartment. It was a small open plan design so everything was open and together. You could walk from the living room, to the dining room table and then around the kitchen counter into the kitchen. Through the living room was a small hallway where there were two bedrooms, I assume,  and a bathroom with a shower and toilet. 

The kitchen cupboards were a dark oak colour with a bark like pattern, with silver kitchen items that matched nicely with the wood look. The kitchen table was a black 8 seater with small round chairs that actually looked quite comfortable. She had two couches facing one another both white with matching cushions and a glass coffee table in the middle of the room. The room also had a gas fire place, decorated by a wooden mental and a fake stone chimney the TV hung from the wall above the mental.

"So this is it." Wanda opened up her arms and spun on her heels, trying to get rid of the last of her nerves.

"It's a really nice place you have Wanda." She smiled bashfully, a small blush growing on her cheeks.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah! I mean I love an open plan. The aesthetic of this place is beautiful. It works really well together. I mean it feels like I'm in a cabin in the woods or something and not in the middle of New York." She beams at me.

"That's the sort of look I was going for. I've always wanted to move out into the middle of nowhere and just live my life, but with two boys it's not quite possible. Not till they leave school anyway. Please sit, get comfortable. Can I offer you a drink?" A move to sit on one of the couches, tilting my head back to look at her.

"I will have whatever you're having." 

"Wine it is." She turns on her heels, slightly bouncing as she walks to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She sets them on the small coffee table in front of us, opening the wine with a pop before pouring us a small glass each, handing me mine before getting comfortable on the couch. 

"Do you want to watch some TV?" Once again she seems to have gone all shy, this is very cute.

"Of course. Anything you would recommend?" I push myself back into the corner of the couch, so I can rest my right arm on the arm of the thing and my left one on the back of the cushions. I took my shoes off at the door so I pulled my legs up bending them so they are tucked underneath my body. 

"How about some sitcoms?" 

"Who doesn't love a good sitcom?"

"That's what I'm saying." She laughs out as she grabs the remote to set up the TV show. 

I finish off my glass of wine, leaning forward to place it on the coaster on the coffee table. Wanda offers to refill it but I let her know I only plan on having one, especially if I have to drive home tonight. She goes all quiet for a second before turning to me.

"Why don't you stay tonight?" She looks down at her hands fiddling with her rings.

"Are you sure? I mean I don't have any clothes though." 

"This is going to sound awful, but I have a few of my ex's clothes that I never chucked out in the back of the closet. He is about the same height as you so they should fit. It's nothing major, just a loose shirt and some sweatpants." She shrugs dismissively, still playing with her fingers.

"Guess I can have another glass then." Her head whips up to look at me, a hopeful glint in her eyes as she smiles and nods letting out a small okay before pouring me a fresh glass. 

"I will go get myself changed, then bring out the clothes for you. You can get changed in my room or the bathroom, up to you. I won't be long." She gets up from the couch, but her movements come to a halt. She turns to look at me, then down to my lips so I pucker them up and she leans in to give me a few quick pecks. "I could get used to this." 

"Me too princess. Me too." I let out a sigh of contentment once she leaves the room. I've known her for three days. THREE DAYS! And she already has this hold on me. Now don't go thinking, you're in love with her already, because I'm not...yet. I mean I can see it. There is just this pull, I don't know how to explain it. But whatever is happening between us, I'm not going to stop it from happening. As Wanda disappears into one of the side rooms, my attention is brought down to my phone that goes off a few times. 

Carol: Hey y/n, just checking if you're coming back tonight or not?

C: Also I went to get some spare clothes from your room and saw the picture frame was missing. Did you move it?

C: Don't worry I found it in your draw. Do you want me to put it back on top of your bedside table?

Me: Hey Carol. No, no plans to come home tonight probably in the morning though as Wanda mentioned she had work. As for the picture, you can place it back on the table that would be great. Thank you 😊 

C: She doesn't know, does she?

Me: Of course not, we have known each other for 3 days. No one outside of the situation knows the situation. I mean look what happened with Loki.

C: You will have to tell her at some point.

Me: I know but right now is not that point.

C: Women have a way of finding these things out.

Me: I am a woman so I know. And I know you know I know so no lecturing Me.

C: Just looking out for you.

Me: I know. Thank you. I love you and will see you tomorrow.

C: See you tomorrow sis. LOVE YOU!

I roll my eyes as I silence my phone, turning it face down on the coffee table. Carol is too protective for her own good sometimes. On the other hand, she does bring up some great points. I will figure it out. What I didn't see when I rolled my eyes and huffed at my phone was Wanda re-entering the room. I had my head in my hands rubbing my face gently.

"You okay?" She bent down matching my height, eyes full of concern.

"Yeah sorry. Just my sister being a little too overbearing for her own good." 

"Right....So here are the clothes, don't worry they are clean. The bathrooms, the second door on the right or my room is the first on the left." She grabbed a small pile of clothes placing them in my lap before she fell back onto the couch getting herself comfortable. 

"Thank you. I won't be too long."

"Good because the TV won't watch itself." She grabs her half full glass of wine bringing it to her plump lips before taking a small sip, a smirk playing on her face as I watch every movement.

I shake my head trying to pull myself together. Right getting changed! I make my way down to the second door on the right, pushing it open with one hand the other holding the clothes. I lock the door behind me and start to get undressed. I take my bra off, sliding her ex-husband's top over my body. It should feel weird wearing her ex's clothes but I somehow feel like it gives me power over him or something. Like if I was to meet him it would be like a big 'Fuck you, I'm wearing your clothes sleeping with the woman you should have never let go'. Not that I know what happened between them. Sooo…

At least the man and some form of taste, because the shirt has a print of one of mine and Tony's favourite bands: ACDC for those wondering. I take off my pants, trying to decide whether to keep on my underwear or not; as I unfold the ex's pants a pair of boxers fall out. Okay, so she kept more than just her ex's clothes. Maybe it's in a box he never picked up. I have decided to wear the ex's boxers as well, more power to me. The fucker. The sweatpants were just simple grey ones, the whole of his wardrobe fit me nicely so we must be around the same height. Although the top may be a little tight around my biceps and the boxers, well they are snug around my leg. So he is a skinny man. Haha! I win! What's my prize. Oh right, Wanda!

Once I'm over my small celebration of the nonexistent competition, I turn the tap on running my hand under the water to check it gets to a lukewarm temperature. I bend down bringing my face close to the running water, collecting it in my hands before washing my face of makeup. However, I wince when I catch my temple and eye with my nail and then remember the reason I had make-up on. Well shit. 

Looking in the mirror it's obvious I am not going to be able to hide the black eye, I mean it's blue and purple for god sakes. The cut I was able to hide behind some hair today, but if I'm going to show off the black eye might as well show off the cut which will most definitely scar. Apparently, chick's dig scars though so all will work out in the end. 

Now just to get my story straight do I tell the truth or not. Or do I bend the truth a little. I could just say I tripped and fell because that is practically what happened, apart from the fact I would be missing out on the vital detail that I had a massive panic attack. No I can't say, oh by the way if I have a panic attack make sure I'm not by any kitchen counters, or any counters for that matter. Yeah, right! Like I can control when I have a panic attack.

Right stop over thinking it, and just go out there she is going to be questioning where you've disappeared too soon. Maybe a black hole will open up, swallow me down and I will end up in a different universe that would save a lot of my time. Right Wanda! 

I fold up my clothes, tucking my underwear and bra between my pants and shirt; and tucking the pile under my left arm. I pat down my wet face with the small face towel hanging by the sink, I take a small breath before unlocking the bathroom door. I shuffle my way down the hallway, trying my best to prolong the inevitable. I see Wanda casually laying on the couch but she sits up when she hears me making my way into the room.

The smile on her face falters, turning into a frown as her eyes scan my face. She gets up from the couch removing the clothes from under my arm placing them on the coffee table, then moves her hand to cradle my face holding each of my cheeks. Her thumbs gently rub at my cheeks making sure not to rub too close to my black eye, but her eyes never leave my face. She bites her lip nervously, moving her index finger to trace alongside the cut on my temple then down and around my eye. This is not the reaction I had expected. I expected a thousand questions to be shot my way, not this careful attentiveness. Her eyes follow the movement of her finger, which then comes to a still and her eyes flick back to mine. 

"Are you okay?"

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

[bookwyrminspiration]

quil is everything alright with that book

I'm kind of worried??

Tiernan de Haas's famous producer/movie star parents committed double suicide a few weeks before her 18th birthday (her dad was dying of cancer, but they didn't tell her, because they ignored her her whole life--this lack of attention/love is key to her later actions). Her guardianship was, for some reason, left to his estranged step brother he hasn't spoken to in decades, who lives in a mountain cabin with his two sons

Tiernan, for some reason (reckless anger?), is like yeah I'll move in with you guys, who I've never met before (he offered for her to emancipate herself but she said no...?). These guys consist of her step uncle Jake, and her step cousins Noah and Kaleb, who are both a few years older than her. Jake is an alpha ass, Noah hates his life and dad but can't leave (unclear why), and Kaleb hasn't spoken a word since he was four and is implied to like hurting women in bed.

Despite this, Tiernan decides to stick around, and by day two her Uncle is saying shit like "You're ours" and "this is your home", and Noah is like "let me perfectly explain your childhood trauma to you in the middle of this cvs." We don't see Kaleb until night 2 or 3, since he's been off in the woods, but the moment he walks in the door at like 1 am (covered in blood holding a dead deer) (Tiernan was getting some laundry) he immediately is like oh. A Woman To Have Sex With. and nearly rapes her until Noah pulls him off and goes hey...that's our step cousin.

The reason he was so immediately on top of her is because apparently??? there's just a constant stream of women in the house?? like Noah legit just wakes up with women in his bed waking him up to have sex. and so any woman in the house must be there for sexual purposes and is fair game

Anyway. Tiernan doesn't mention this, but gets into some spats with her relatives. Consisting of them making very deep, personal claims about her despite it having been, once again, like 3 days. Her Uncle is like "You never smile! you only speak in one word sentences! you never ask us questions!" As if she isn't among strangers and her parents died mere DAYS ago. yet, for some reason, she's like, damn...he's right. her uncle is also constantly like do NOT date the boys in town, do NOT go down to the pond alone, etc. etc.

Step Uncle Jake then starts unloading trauma while fishing about how he hasn't been near a woman in decades, since Tiernan's parents drove his first love to suicide (that why they haven't spoken in forever) and the mother of his sons is in jail. This turns Tiernan on. Later when Tiernan can't sleep, they nearly fuck in the kitchen, but stop and Tiernan finally cries over her parents death and how they didn't even leave her a note. Uncle Jake is like we're your family now and this is your home (it hasn't even been a week).

There's a time skip of a few weeks, where they're preparing for winter--because, I forgot to mention, they live alone at the top of a mountain and are snowed in for six months every year. Tiernan turns 18 (kaleb gifts her a hand carved belt that noah says is for bondage purposes), her cousins get into a fight in a bar over her, and they run away from the police to the house. The cousins stay up in case any of the people they fought try and get to the house through the snow, but they end up putting porn on the TV and having a communal masturbation session, nearly ending in Noah and Kaleb fucking Tiernan. Instead, Uncle Jake interrupts, and he spanks her.

And that's as far as I've gotten so far. So I'm reading a slow-burn (ish) romance of Tiernan falling for her step uncles and cousins. And they've just gotten snowed in for the next 6 months. So they're alone. and tiernan's now legally an adult. and no one here is well adjusted

send me your strength soldiers I think it's about to get even rougher

(I went into this book knowing exactly what it would be)

[alieinthemorning]

Hello!I already read your rules like 3 times but I made any mistake please tell me-

Anyway can I please request platonic headcanos of diasomnia family(mainly silver and lilia) with silver sibling!reader?reader is also adopted by Lilia and is not biologically related to silver,they are younger than him and have much more lively personality,they also get flustered easily.l and really care about their family

(I JUST NEED SOME WHOLESOME STUFF PLEASE)

Found Family [Diasomina Family]

Content: Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Character(s), Familial Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Book 7 Part 3 Spoilers

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Lilia found you in the woods at a very young age. You were not far from his little cabin, sitting at the edge of the lake, peering into its waters.

"Are you lost, little one?"

You shook your head.

"Is your family nearby, then?"

You shook your head again. "They abandoned me. Told me to not return."

And that's all it took for him to take you in himself, he already had Silver, and he was doing well enough, surely another child wouldn't prove to be difficult.

You were a quiet child, even more quiet than Silver. However, your eyes were much move expressive than you might have realized. You were some kind of Nocturnal Fae, perhaps of a long forgotten race because he had never seen another with eyes as interesting as yours.

When you didn't like something your pupils would become thin slits, and when there was something you liked they would grow considerable.

Lilia found that quite adorable.

He often found you and Silver outside, sitting against the largest tree in front of the cabin. Silver of course was asleep while you had a book in your lap.

"What are you reading, little one?"  Lilia asked as he sat down beside you.

"Ohana: A story about an animal who was shunned being different."

Another thing about you was that you were very blunt and up front. He assumed it was something you learned from your previous living situation.

You tilted your head, a small smile gracing your lips. "But then, after a few hardships, the animal found a family. Just like me—Like us."

Lilia smiled himself, resting a hand on your head. "Yes, just like us."

Silver had an abundance of alarm clocks to help wake him up in the morning. However, none worked as good as you simply calling his name.

"Silver, it's time to wake up." His eyes always seemed to open easily, and found you immediately.

You gave him your usual small smile. "Good morning, Silver."

"Good morning."

And then you were gone while he got ready. Once he was done, he would find you indulging in your morning tea with Father, Lord Malleus and Sebek. Sebek was of course loudly praising Father and Lord Malleus, Lilia was going along with it while you and Malleus quietly sipped on your tea.

He took his spot next to you, and you immediately filled his cup, adding two sugar cubes. Just liked he liked it.

He thanked you with his usual smile as his body become more attune to the usual flow of life around him.

Sebek didn't like you at first. You were weird. Your eyes were too sharp, it made him feel like you were staring through him. He also didn't like how you were seemingly better at everything than he (and Silver) was. You were better at swordsmanship, being able to pull off moves that Master Lilia had only shown once. And yet you never bragged about it (he disliked that about you too).

You were actually able to cook, so your training was cut short so that you could make them a meal for after training. And he hated to admit it, but your cooking was even better than his mother. However, as much as he disliked how good your meals were, he was also thankful that because of them he didn't have to eat Master Lilia's cooking.  You also seemed to rotate each of their favorite meals. You always seemed to remember the small things about them.

Even now, you approached him at lunch, two plates in hand.

"For you, Sebek." You placed a plate of salmon carpaccio in front of him. Then you woke Silver up before sitting down yourself.

He glanced away from you, swallowing his pride. "...Thank you."

"Think nothing of it."

He thought a lot of it.

You and Malleus often found yourselves strolling the paths of Night Raven College in the dead of night when the students were in their dorms, the teachers had returned to their homes and the only nightlife was that of the ghosts and fairies.

Tonight, something was weighing heavily on him.

"What is on your mind, Malleus?"

He chuckled. He liked that about you. You always knew when something was amiss and would immediately hone in on it.

"I find myself thinking about what will happen after Silver departs from this world." He paused, "Sebek as well, as he is only half-fae."

You hummed. "They will die and we will live on. What is there to think about?" Your tone was flat— nonchalant.

Malleus glanced down at you.

Your pupils were sharp.

Ah, you were as effected as he was.

Then after a few more silent moments, you spoke up. "...I do understand that they won't be with me forever, so I must make the most out of the time I have with them now., so that I'm only left with fond memories of them."

Malleus felt his lips flicker upward as his gaze turned toward the starry sky.

"Yes, I suppose you are correct..."

"To those I've met before, and to those I'll meet hereafter...

"Meet in a Dream."

Soft eyes met periwinkle.

"Good morning, Silver."

He helped you properly orientate. "We have to help Father and Malleus."

You nodded, "Yes, we have to save our family."

You asked for headcanons, so I wrote snippets. 

A something that might have not been clear:

You're a kinda of ancient nocturnal fae who has a kind of dilating pupils. I wanted to also give you glowing eyes (more so like mood ring eyes lol), but I didn't want to give you an eye color, so I scrapped it (saving it for the OC ig because I SURE HAVE BRAINWORMS OVER THIS CHARACTER SOMEHOW, ANON HOW DID YOU GIVE ME BRAIN WORMS LOL)

Peep the few references btw lol

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part xviii- the time heist

“am i supposed to be grateful to have survived this?” - brenna twohy

summary: five years after the snap, you still haven’t moved on. but when tony comes calling with a proposition, you aren’t so sure.

wordcount: 4.6k

warnings: cussing, violence, angst, reader has precisely 0 coping skills, events of the first half of endgame

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsprashimusic @yourfavunsub

a/n: two more parts after this 🤭 anyway i’m so sorry @yourfavunsub because it WONT LET ME TAG U CRYIN FR but i do hope y’all enjoy this one. this series has been one of my favs so far and i’m still not sure where i wanna go after this. but love y’all have a nice day 🫶

previous part | series masterlist | next part

After killing Thanos, you run.

You take everything from your rooms in the compound and take off one day after leaving a note to tell the team how to reach you in an emergency.

They respect your decision, especially after hearing you wake up screaming every night.

With nowhere else to go, you head to an old HYDRA safe house. It’s abandoned, obviously, but it has everything you need.

You clean the place up, fix the paint and repair damaged wood. You plant a large garden and buy a few chickens to take care of. You work for two weeks straight.

In the end, the cabin is comfortable. Homey and small but a great place to hide from everything going on. A way to keep running but stay in one place.

The small Romanian town grows used to your presence, and after a few months of living nearby, they don’t even ask about your past when you come to market to trade. They saw the look in your eyes when they asked about Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

You tend your garden that grows every week, in part thanks to your powers that seem to affect the area. You can’t control it, but your crops and flowers grow faster and healthier. In just a year you have a fully-grown plum tree in your walled-off yard.

And the years keep going by.

You celebrate Steve and Bucky’s birthdays every time they roll around, mainly by heading back to Brooklyn for a week and visiting the museum. Your museum.

Despite how often you go, you find that you’re never able to look their pictures in the eye.

All you see is your boys disappearing from your grip.

It’s all you can see when you go to bed.

———————————————————————

“Come, come on Margaret.”

You gather the unusually small chicken into your arms, smoothing her feathers as she clucks in greeting. The birds like you a lot. You suspect it’s the wings.

“It’s about time I fix that fence, isn’t it? If you keep getting out.”

Margaret shuffles indignantly in your arms, bawking as you let her back in the fenced-in chicken coop.

They’re a bit spoiled, you have to admit. All eight hens shared a large coop, with heaters and lights, and hay you change out every week. You let them out every morning and bring them in every evening.

With a light sigh, you start fixing the fence. Enhanced strength makes it easy work as you push the post into the ground, tuck the chicken wire back down, and make sure there are no more holes.

Shaking the dirt from your skirt and wings, you rise and head to the front of your home. As you clean your feathers, your hands pass over the small charms still on them. The ones from Wakanda. From a happier time.

The stone walls surrounding your property have one entrance at a large metal gate, which is currently wide open.

Usually, you keep it open during the day, lest a villager needs a cut healed or extra food. But it’s late now, and you’re ready to head in for the night.

But just as you head to the gate, you see a car. Furrowing your brows, you call out.

“Buna ziua. Te pot ajuta cu ceva? [Hello. Can I help you with anything?]” When no one steps out of the car, you continue. “Am prune în plus [I have extra plums].”

“Come on, (Y/N). Of all the languages I do speak, you know Romanian isn’t one of them.”

A voice comes from behind you and you whip around, firing off a blast of light that the group of three dodges.

Natasha, Tony… and Scott.

Scott was dusted. Five years ago.

You storm up to them, eyes watering.

“What are you doing here? What’s going on?” you ask.

Natasha takes your hand in hers, smiling.

“We might be able to bring them back.”

Your lips purse and you take your hand back, starting to shake. Entertaining such a hopeful idea is dangerous, you’ve learned.

Every night, you dream of your boys. And every time you wake up, you hope that it all was a nightmare and you’ll wake up in their arms.

You never do.

“Don’t tell me that unless you’re sure,” you say, brushing past them and heading towards your house.

They follow you, unsure if this is an invitation or a dismissal.

When you open the door and sigh, they know it’s the former.

“It’s a nice place,” Tony comments mildly. You offer a small smile, stepping into your kitchen. You open a cabinet and grab a tin of tea, the same kind you’d buy in the 40s, and put a kettle on.

You take three cups out, setting them at the dining room table that only has three chairs. Most things here are in threes.

As you hesitate to set the cups down, Natasha speaks up again. Slowly, carefully, as though you’ll run at the wrong word.

“Will you at least hear us out?”

To her credit, you don’t run. You start crying.

Scott and Tony share a look of “Oh, shit,” as the lights start flickering.

“What is there to hear?” you ask, laughing ruefully. “Unless you’re sure, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

Whistling from the stove catches your attention, and you hurry over to grab the kettle. Like usual, you forget to grab a glove. Your hand meets searing metal and you hiss, cursing your bad habit.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, standing up quickly.

You nod, eyes watering even more. It’s not from the quickly-healing burn, though. “Yeah,” you sob out. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Leaning on the counter, you take a few breaths. You grab the kettle again and fill all three teacups, dropping in the tea bags and some sugar.

“(Y/N), give us a shot.” Tony takes the cup. “That’s all we’ve got, and you’ve taken chances against worse odds before.”

You don’t dare look at the pictures on the wall.

“These two managed to rope me in, and we need your help. You ran off with Cap to save Barnes, so-“

“That’s before I watched both of them die.” You gently hit the table. “Twice.”

“And we might be able to bring them back a second time,” Natasha adds. “Please?”

A third chance. You’ve seen second chances, but never third. Never. And for you, you rarely got the former.

But here one was.

“Okay. Okay,” you say eventually. They all breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just… find someone to watch the chickens.”

———————————————————————

“I see we’ve both been taking it hard.”

You sit next to Thor on a bench. Everyone else is working on a large platform, but you’ve done your part. The years clearly haven’t been kind to him either. He’s at least 100 pounds heavier and reeks of alcohol.

He shrugs, sipping a beer. “Well, I didn’t have anyone left, so…” He raises the can. “To them.”

You awkwardly form a misshapen can from light and tap it to his.

“To them.”

“Hey Point Break, Lucifer! One of you care to lend a bit of that super-strength?” Tony shouts. You sigh, hoisting a large box of metal supplies in one arm. Tossing it at Tony’s feet, you gesture to the invention.

“So this can do it?”

The genius proudly slaps a metal leg. “Yep. Time travel made simple.” You glance at the complex wiring and countless panels. Sure, simple.

———————————————————————

You watch as Bruce, now half-Hulk half man, Nebula, and Scott test one suit. Apparently, there are risks with time travel. Interdimensional warping, quantum entanglement, String Theory, blah, blah, blah.

You’ve tuned them out by the time Rhodey walks in.

“Time travel suit, not bad,” he comments. As Bruce tries to insert a vial into the suit, Scott snaps.

“Hey, easy, easy!”

“I’m being very careful,” the scientist insists.

The two go back and forth before Scott momentarily disappears. He comes back, sighing heavily.

“There goes the first test run,” you say. When Scott tries to hype himself up to no avail, you pipe up.

“Let me go. Got nothing to lose, right?”

They have you suited up in minutes. The suit, which is nanotech, materializes with a simple tap on the watch, molding around your wings to fit you perfectly.

“(Y/N), now you’re gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don’t worry about that.” You nod as Nebula types away on a screen.

“Wait, wait, wait a second. Let me ask you something,” Rhodey cuts in. “If we can do this, you know… go back in time, why don’t we just find baby Thanos? You know, and…” He pantomimes strangulation.

“First of all, that’s horrible,” Bruce says at the same time you say, “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea.”

The scientist blinks in confusion before pressing on. “And secondly, time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change the future.”

You groan as they argue and eventually begin listing movies.

“Boys, as much as I love this little debate, can we get going?” They oblige your request, and head to the main room. The platform stands, ominous and waiting.

“Are you sure about this?” Natasha asks. You nod, smiling.

“I just wanna see them, even just for a second.”

She won’t say it, but she thinks it’s a bad idea for you to go. To see your past selves, before all the trauma. But you’re set on going.

You step onto the machine, flexing your fingers as you watch Bruce press various buttons.

“All right, (Y/N). We’re going in three, two, one…”

It’s like the ground opens up beneath you as you dive in, passing through some dimension in milliseconds before you pop back to normal.

You shout a bit, quickly stifling the sound.

You’re in your old apartment. The radio crackles with familiar music, and your bow sits by the door.

Wandering the small rooms, you finally come to your old closet. When you open it and find the box you’re looking for, you smile and pocket it. Past you forgot it even existed, so it wasn’t like you’d miss it.

The door handle clicking makes you jump, quickly closing the door.

Three voices wander in.

“You need to stop spending all this money, or Stevie’s not gonna have any when we ship out.” Your own voice sounds weird to your ears. Not just in the normal way, but because of how light it is.

The next voices knock the breath from your lungs.

“Hey, it was worth it. I got you that bear,” Bucky retorts. You lift a hand to cover your mouth as you sob.

“Three bucks, though? And you’re supposed to be a sniper?” Steve’s voice is wheezy, thin, and breathless.

“There’s a big difference between throwing a ball in a ring and shooting someone,” the brunet grumbles.

The three of you dissolve into bickering, and all the while you sit in a cramped closet. You haven’t heard their voices in so long. So long.

Maybe you can open the door and warn them. Where to avoid, what to do. How to live a normal life.

The moment you reach towards the door, the watch starts beeping.

“No, no,” you whisper, trying to quiet while frantically fumbling with the doorknob. “Please!”

And you’re back.

You’re kneeling on the platform again, teary-eyed for the umpteenth time and more determined than ever.

The team runs up, and Natasha gently helps you stand up.

“Hey, hey look at me. You okay?”

You catch your breath, reaching into your pocket. “Yeah, yeah, it worked.” You present the small box, clutching it tightly in your hands.

———————————————————————

“Okay, so the ‘how’ works. Now, we gotta figure out the ‘when’ and ‘where’,” you say, standing at the front of a meeting room. Various screens show the various stones, and the gathered team is grasping at any ideas.

“Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones-”

Tony cuts you off. “Or substitute the word ‘encounter’ with ‘damn near been killed’ by one of the six Infinity Stones. You nod. Two out of three times you’d come into close contact with one, it had almost killed you.

Scott shrugs. “I haven’t. But I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.”

Bruce steps around the table. “Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each. And these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

“Our history,” Tony clarifies. “So not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

You tap a screen, watching as all six flicker to life with images of each stone. “Which means we have to pick our targets.”

“Correct.”

“So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” When you mention him, you look up to see the god slumped in a chair.

“Is he asleep?” Nat asks.

Rhodey replies, monotone and unbothered as ever. “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

You manage to shake him awake, guiding him to the front of the room and sitting on a nearby stool.

The god coughs a few times, tugging off his sunglasses. “Uh, where to start? Umm… The Aether, firstly, is not a stone. Someone called it a stone before. Um, it’s more of an angry sludge sort of a thing… so someone’s gonna need to amend that and stop saying that.” You massage in between your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

Thor puts in a few eye drops as he speaks again. “Here’s an interesting story though, about the Aether. My grandfather, many years ago, had to hide the stone from the Dark Elves. Ooh. Scary beings.” He makes vague sounds, frightening precisely no one.

“So, Jane, actually-“ He pokes at the screen. “Oh, there she is. Yeah, so Jane was an old flame of mine. You know, she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time, and then the Aether stuck itself inside her…”

You cough to hide a chuckle.

“…and she became very, very sick. And so I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I’m from, and we had to try and fix her.” When you look around the room, Scott, bless him, is the only one paying real attention. You’re pretty sure Clint is asleep with his eyes open.

This doesn’t deter Thor, though. “We were dating at the time, you see, and I got to introduce her to my mother… who’s dead and, um… Oh, you know, Jane and I aren’t even dating anymore, so…” He sniffles a bit, voice growing heavy.

“Yes, these things happen, though. You know? Nothing lasts forever. The only thing that-“

You gesture for Tony to bring his little soliloquy to an end, and the billionaire reluctantly tries to bring the god to a chair. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

Thor brushes him away. “I’m not done yet. The only thing that is permanent in life is impermanence.”

“Awesome. Eggs? Breakfast?” Tony asks. You awkwardly clap a few times.

“No. I’d like a Bloody Mary.”

For the rest of that day and much of the next, you all discuss the rest of the Stones. Where they came from, what their powers are, and everything any of you know about them. And after hours of brainstorming, the plan is all laid out.

Reality is on Asgard in 2013, a mission given to Thor and Rocket. Natasha, Clint, Nebula, and Rhodey will be taking Power and Soul, all in space in 2014. Space, Mind, and Time are all in New York in 2012. And you’re going there alongside Tony, Bruce, and Scott.

“I don’t see how I’ll be much help. These-” You gesture to your wings. “-aren’t very subtle.”

Tony pats your shoulder. “Just c’mon, kid. We could always use the extra hands- or wings.”

“I’m 105, Stark. I’m no kid.”

“You’ve lived less than half of those years. You’re a kid,” he rebuffs. The two of you exchange a smile before he claps his hands.

“Alright, we’ve got a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.” He takes one last glance at the screens. “Let’s break some eggs.”

———————————————————————

New York City, 2012.

“All right, we all know our assignments,” you say, still catching your breath from the jump. “Bruce, get to the doctor. Get the Time Stone.” He rushes off, hurriedly jumping between buildings to stay out of sight. You turn back to Scott and Tony. “You two, get the Space and Mind Stones. I’ll get the Mind Stone once it’s in the elevator, but from there, I’ll only be backup if you get stuck.”

You fly up alongside Tony as Scott shrinks down atop his shoulder, ducking out of view as you spot the team. You can spot Steve, but you tear your eyes away, dropping down in search of the elevator.

Once you find it, you land on a ledge, taking a moment as you wait for the right moment.

“Oh, man. I almost forgot that Cap’s suit did nothing for his ass. I’m almost jealous, (L/N),” Tony whispers over comms. “That’s a slappable ass.”

“Tony!” you snap. “No one asked you to look.”

“But it is slappable, isn’t it?”

You sigh, deep and long-suffering. “Yes.”

“I think it’s great,” Scott pipes up. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.”

The elevator beeps, and you get ready to ruin a few HYDRA agents’ days.

“Who are these guys?” Scott asks.

Tony starts to explain, not quite minding his volume. “They are SHIELD, well, actually HYDRA, but we didn’t know that yet.”

“Seriously? You didn’t? I mean, they look like bad guys.”

“Yeah,” you shout over the wind. “It’s even more obvious when they’re brainwashing you monthly and prodding you with needles.”

After a bit of shuffling, you see Tony leap from the tower. “It’s all yours now, (Y/N),” he yells. You mock salute, diving off your ledge and watching as the HYDRA agents load into the elevator. You’re going to enjoy this.

As soon as the door closes, you blast a hole in the glass from the outside.

You hear the screams as you barrel in, immediately smashing the emergency call button to bits. No communication.

Fire beams of light as quickly as possible, letting them bounce off the walls in deadly ricochets. Once you take out all but one, you stop.

Brock Rumlow smirks and opens his mouth.

“Свет [Light],” he begins, confidence growing. You watch patiently as he lists off your trigger words, and he finally comes to the end. “Я готов отвечать [Ready to comply]?”

You tilt your head and smile. “I don’t work like that anymore, asshole.”

Grabbing him by the tactical vest, you throw him against the wall, landing a powerful kick to the center of his chest before you start throwing punches. It’s satisfying, watching the man who caused you so much pain actually fear you for once.

You leave him, barely breathing, and pick up the case containing the scepter before starting the elevator and leaping from the shattered glass. You land on a stairwell inside the Tower, hoping to meet up with the other two. Instead, you’re met with one of your best friends.

And he can’t quite believe it.

“Hey, Stevie.”

Instead of the greeting you’re hoping for, the Captain grabs you by the collar.

“Who are you? What’s going on?”

You furrow your brows. “Steve, it’s me. Bucky and I are alive.” When he doesn't let up, you roll your eyes, still adjusting to seeing him after five years. “Stubborn as always, hm? How about I tell you something only I would know?”

He doesn’t respond.

“For example, you wet the bed until you were 7, and one night after you lost a tooth and put it under the pillow you did it again-”

The captain cuts you off, teary-eyed but still mortified. “(Y/N)? Oh my god, it’s you. How did you get wings?”

You barrel on. “-and in the morning you were too embarrassed to admit you’d pissed yourself-”

“Okay, I get it, really-”

“-so you told Buck and me that the tooth fairy did it,” you finish. He pulls you into a hug and you practically melt as he rests a hand on your head.

“Now, I’m from the future, and I really need this scepter, but me and Buck are alive, you’ve just gotta find us.” He never pulls away, just letting you lean into him.

“How am I supposed to find you?”

You sigh. “It’ll all work out in the end. I promise.” You feel him nod into your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he says.

You gently pull away, taking his hand. “I missed you, too.”

“We’ve got a problem, (L/N,” Tony gasps over comms. “Head back to the rendezvous point.”

The blond captain casts his gaze to the ground and purses his lips a bit. A shy tell.

“Guess that’s the future calling?” he jokes. You laugh before your gaze turns a bit sad again. Steve decides he doesn’t like how sad you look however far in the future.

“I love you so much, Steve. Take care.” If the words shock him, he doesn’t give it away.

You give past-Steve one last smile before turning on your heel and heading back to the elevator, prying open the doors, and diving out of the building.

When you land beside your meeting point, all you can do is wait. And when Tony and Scott walk out looking more than discouraged, your hopes sink in your chest.

In between their bickering, they manage to explain. They lost the Tesseract. And there’s no do-overs. You curse, before thinking.

There was a point in time when you were sent on a mission to retrieve Pym Particles. There was also a time when HYDRA was in possession of the Tesseract. But that means…

“I might have an idea. I don’t like it, hate it, actually, but I think it may be our only option,” you finally admit. “There’s a couple of months when HYDRA had both Pym Particles and the Tesseract.”

Scott tries to stand up before hitting his head on the roof of the car they’ve sat down in.

“Wait, HYDRA as in ‘HYDRA’ HYDRA?” he asks.

You furrow your brows. “What does even- You know what? Yes. HYDRA HYDRA.”

“So when was this?” Tony pulls up a screen.

You think about it. You know the time period, but it’ll be easier if there’s less guards around. So what date…

“March 1983. Siberia,” you decide. The peak of the Cold War meant HYDRA was sending out soldiers left and right. Better odds.

Tony nods. “Any particular day?”

“The 10th.”

Scott gets out of the car, much more carefully this time, and holds up his hands.

“So we’re going into HYDRA? No offense, but I don’t want to have to fight past-you or past-Barnes. Or the two of you together,” he says. You smile.

“None taken. But-“ You shove the scepter into his hands. “You’re not going. You’re going to get this back to the compound, okay?”

You see Scott breathe a sigh of relief before quickly hiding it. A few taps to the watch later, he’s gone.

“You sure about this?” Tony asks.

You shake out your hands, getting ready for another disorienting jump to a much more sinister place.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s all good. In and out and we’ll be cooking with gas.”

The genius snorts. “Was that some 40s slang that I just heard, (L/N)?”

You roll your eyes, simply setting the date and coordinates in.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“I do.”

———————————————————————

HYDRA Base, Siberia 1983.

You almost forgot just how unforgiving the cold gets here.

The wind buffets your body as you and Tony spark into existence, fighting your way to the base. You let him shoot down the man guarding the door before you step over the body. Muttering under your breath, you punch in the code before slipping inside.

Just as you predicted, there aren’t many people prowling around. A few guards that you slip past or shoot down before they even know you’re there, but nothing you can’t handle. Plus, it’s not like you have to worry about an escape route, You can head back to the present as soon as you get the particles.

“They’re in there,” you whisper to Tony, pointing to a nearby lab. “Furthest freezer on the left, third shelf from the bottom. Code is 3395” You silently thank your usually-detested memory as he slips off, politely nodding to one doctor inside the lab before blasting him into the wall.

As he has his fun, you head further into the building, pressing down the nausea that comes with every familiar corridor.

You remind yourself that you’re doing this for the world, for your boys. You can handle a few minutes in this building.

Finally, you reach a locked door. Another code you remember too well.

In the center of the dull room lies a sealed safe. You raise your hand, focusing light to your fingertips before grabbing the lock. It melts in seconds, and you yank the door away.

Shielding your eyes, you reach out for the glowing cube when you hear a voice behind you.

“Что ты делаешь [What are you doing]?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Привет, Зима [Hi, Winter].”

When you force yourself to turn around, you see him. Not quite your Bucky, but not quite the Soldier either. His hair is shorter, but he’s got that same look in his eyes. Still holding the cube in your hand, you step closer.

He reiterates his question, but you don’t answer, instead opting to take his hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper. “You’re going to get out, and you’re going to be free. Just a little bit more of this, James, I promise.”

He tilts his head, but he doesn’t reach for his guns or knives. You don’t want him to get punished for not dealing with an intruder.

“What?” he whispers back. You can’t bring up the words, so you simply lean into him and rest your head on his chest. The tactical vest is scratchy and uncomfortable, but you ignore it. “Who’s ‘James’?”

“Not important,” you begin before backtracking.

“Actually, no. He’s very important. He’s you, in fact.” Gently bringing his flesh hand to his chest, you smile. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re Bucky. And today’s your 66th birthday -technically.”

The man in front of you is bewildered. It’s as if you told him the world was crashing down. For him, it might seem that way.

“And I know that sometime you’ll go back into that damn chair and you won’t remember I was here, but you will eventually. You’ve just gotta hold out a bit longer, m’kay, love?”

He nods, quiet as ever. You hug him tight, just like you’d done to Steve a few minutes earlier. Or- 29 years later? All this time traveling was messing with your brain.

“I love you, okay? Remember that.”

Bucky is still standing in that room when you slip away, heading down the corridor until you find Tony again.

He holds up two vials of the Pym Particles as you hold up the Tesseract, the both of you grinning wide.

“We’re back in the game,” he cheers. Alarms start going off throughout the base, but neither of you care. The agents will be too late anyways.

“Yes we are, Stark,” you yell over the wailing siren. “Now let’s get them back.”