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emma-m-black · 2 months ago

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Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Seventeen

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

Soooo I have 20 Chapters written for Part One written, and there is a Part Two underway, but I am so excited for Chapters 18 & 19 because they will be snippets of Giles's point of view since Chapter 1 eek!

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Author Master List

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen,

Chapter Seventeen:

Rose lowered herself gingerly into the chair at the library table, wincing as her muscles protested every movement. Her whole body ached after being thrown across the library during last night’s battle at the Hellmouth. Despite the soreness, she knew she had come out the least injured—everyone else had taken harder hits. Everyone except Xander, whom they’d wisely left out of the fight to keep him safe. She tried to sit still, but even the slight movement of breathing sent sharp reminders of her bruises rippling through her.

“Here,” came Giles’s soft voice, his presence a calming contrast to the aches of the day. He held out a steaming cup of tea, the familiar scent of chamomile filling the air.

The warmth of the tea radiated into her palms the moment she took it. “Thank you,” she whispered, her lips curving into a faint smile as she accepted it. Her fingers brushed against his during the handoff, a brief touch, but it sent a ripple of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the tea. It was a touch that lingered, sparking feelings she hadn’t fully come to terms with yet. She forced herself to focus on the tea rather than the tugging sensation that always seemed to stir whenever Giles was too close.

Since that night on the porch, she and Giles had stumbled into what she privately called the “we’re-just-going-to-forget-we-slept-together-and-be-friends-again” stage. It was safer that way, simpler. They acted as if nothing had happened between them. But it didn’t stop the memories from clawing their way back at the worst times—like now. She remembered the heat of his skin, the weight of his hands, the way his eyes had darkened as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The intimacy had been brief, but the tension between them hadn’t disappeared.

She shoved the thoughts down and cleared her throat.

Giles settled into the chair across from her, his own cup of tea cradled in his hands. He pulled a thick tome closer and began rifling through the stack of books spread across the table. “Hopefully we can figure out the final components of the unbinding spell before the others return from patrol,” he said, his brow furrowing as he scanned the ancient pages.

“That would be nice.” Rose winced as she shifted in her seat, trying to find a position that didn’t send a sharp pain through her ribs. “I’m getting tired of not being able to pee without someone standing outside the stall door. There’s a limit to how much ‘safety’ a girl needs.”

Giles, just in the middle of a sip of tea, choked, sputtering as his cheeks flushed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “Yes, well...” He set his cup down quickly, clearly flustered, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That would indeed be... quite uncomfortable.”

Rose glanced up through her lashes, hiding a smirk. There was something endlessly amusing about catching Giles off guard, watching his formalities crumble just a little. She took another sip of her tea, trying to suppress the grin spreading across her face. “You’re far too easy to tease sometimes, Rupert.”

He shot her a sidelong glance, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “Yes, well,” he muttered, his voice carrying a touch of affection despite his attempt to remain stern, “some people are incorrigible.”

A soft chuckle escaped her. “It’s one of my better qualities, you know.”

“Brat,” he mumbled, but there was no real bite to it, just a familiar warmth, a fondness that made her heart twist in her chest.

For a while, the conversation faded into a comfortable silence, the soft sound of turning pages and the occasional clink of a teacup the only interruptions. It was a reprieve, a quiet moment that Rose found herself cherishing more than she’d ever admit. In these rare pockets of calm, it was easy to forget the complexities hanging over them—the unspoken feelings, the dangerous threats, and the inevitable battles looming on the horizon. Here, in the quiet, they could just be... them. Two people sharing tea and searching for a solution that would hopefully save them all.

Then, something in the passage she was reading snagged her attention. A spark of hope flared in her chest. “This... this might work,” she muttered to herself, her eyes widening as she scanned the lines again, her pulse quickening.

“What is it?” Giles’s voice was immediate, his focus snapping to her. His tea forgotten, he leaned forward, watching her with intense curiosity.

Without thinking, Rose shoved back her chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, and hurried over to his side of the table. She slammed the book down in front of him, leaning in so close that her shoulder brushed his. “Look,” she said, her voice thick with excitement as she pointed to the passage.

Giles’s eyes followed her finger, and he bent closer to read the text. His face was inches from hers, so close she could see the way his breath stirred the strands of hair near her face. His concentration was palpable as he scanned the lines, his brow furrowing. After a moment, his lips parted in a slow smile, the kind of smile that made her breath hitch in her throat.

“This… this could work,” he said softly, a note of relief threading through his voice. He reached up, sliding his glasses off and turning to face her fully. His smile widened, a spark of triumph dancing in his eyes.

Rose’s heart skipped a beat as she realized how close she was standing to him. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with the warmth of the tea. His gaze dropped, briefly flicking to her lips before snapping back to her eyes, and she felt the ground shift beneath her. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to back away before the moment slipped into something more.

But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her entire body felt like it was caught in some invisible current, drawn to him despite the warning bells ringing in her mind. The connection between them crackled in the air, too real, too close, and for a heartbeat, the world outside the two of them ceased to exist.

She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat, could see the soft twitch of his fingers as if he was fighting the urge to close the distance between them. And for one terrifying moment, she wanted him to. She wanted to let the dam break, to let all the tension and unsaid things spill out into the open.

But just as the tension seemed about to snap, the sound of laughter echoed from down the hallway, and the library doors creaked open.

Rose pulled herself back, instinctively putting some distance between herself and Giles, though her pulse was still racing. She tried to focus, but the want for him to reach up, grasp her cheek, and kiss her flashed vividly in her mind. She swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside as best she could. Clearing her throat, she turned to the group, offering a casual distraction.

“How was patrolling?” she asked, though her voice betrayed the slight tremor of someone who was far from casual, barely masking the intensity of her earlier thoughts.

“Boring. Seems like everything took the night off,” Buffy replied, sounding almost disappointed as she unloaded her weapons into the cage.

“Maybe because we handled the Hellmouth last night,” Willow suggested brightly, “all the big baddies were like, ‘Oh, we can’t take them—best move on to the next town.’”

“Or,” Xander cut in with his usual sarcasm, “it’s because Rose’s creepy family was out in full force tonight.” He threw himself into a chair, his tone more serious than usual.

A chill crawled up Rose’s spine at his words. She grimaced, nodding in reluctant agreement. “I think they know they only have one shot. They’re waiting for everyone to gather. They want it to be... perfect.”

“You mean there’s more of them?” Xander asked, eyebrows raised.

Rose rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of the coven’s presence. “Yeah, I can feel them. Every time more of them get closer, it’s like I’m... more connected to the coven’s power. It’s stronger.” She glanced around at her friends, who watched her with concern. She wished she could tell them she was okay, but she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

Giles slipped his glasses off, the faint glint of worry etched into his features. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to worry much longer. Rose may have found the spell we need to sever her connection to the coven, and take their power with her.”

Willow’s face lit up. “See? I knew that spell was in these books somewhere!” she said, bouncing excitedly on her feet.

Rose smiled weakly, but her heart wasn’t in it. The closer they got to a solution, the more the dread inside her gnawed at the edges of her mind.

“There’s a catch, of course,” Giles added gravely, his eyes scanning the room. “The ritual requires it be performed on sacred ground. So we won’t be able to do it in the protection of the house.”

Buffy’s resolve kicked in, her Slayer instincts kicking into full gear. “What do you need from us?” she asked, stepping closer to Willow.

Giles rose from his chair and disappeared into his office. When he returned, he had a notepad in hand, scribbling a list of ingredients. He tore the sheet off and handed it to Willow. “We’ll need these things from The Magic Box tomorrow. Rose and I will stick together and gather the rest. It will take twenty-four hours of preparation for the potion to set.”

“Can do,” Willow said confidently, looking over the list. “They should have all this in stock.”

“Then we’ll meet at Buffy’s home at noon,” Giles said, glancing over at Rose. “And hopefully, by Sunday night, this will all be over.”

“Is it really safe for the two of you to be on your own?” Buffy asked, the question holding a double meaning, it was not just their safety the Slayer was worried about but the fact that Giles and Rose still seemed to hold some more personal connection.

“There are some things I need to discuss with Rose about the ritual and the risks that go along with it, I think it would be best to have that discussion in private there are-“ But Giles’s voice became distant and soon Rose felt her thoughts slipping further away from the conversation. Her gaze drifted toward a scuff on the wall, her heart heavy with an unshakable fear. What if this didn’t work? What if the separating herself from the coven wasn’t enough?

An itch crawled up her spine, something dark stirring at the back of her mind. She could feel the weight of her family’s sinister intent pressing in on her. They were biding their time, waiting to strike when she was most vulnerable. Her family needed to kill her in just the right way to preserve the power of the goddess for the coven. But if she cut herself off from the coven in another way... if she died before the ritual... would that stop them? That is why they kept her safe this whole time.

Her heart clenched painfully as the reality settled in her chest. Could she sacrifice herself? Could she end it all—her life, her bloodline, everything—if it meant keeping her friends safe? If it meant protecting Giles? Her thoughts swirled in an agonizing storm. She knew the answer, deep down. If it came down to it... she would do it. She would sacrifice herself, no hesitation. She would never let them hurt Giles. She would die before that happened.

Her breath hitched as the decision anchored itself in her heart, and the enormity of it left her trembling inside.

“Rose?” Giles’s voice pierced through her haze, his hand lightly resting on her shoulder. The warmth of his touch startled her, pulling her abruptly from her dark thoughts.

“What?” she whispered, blinking up at him as if just realizing where she was.

Giles tilted his head, concern etched deep into his eyes. “Are you ready to leave?”

Rose stared at him for a moment, trying to shake the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. The urge to reach out, to tell him everything, burned in her throat, but she couldn’t burden him with that. Not now. Not when everything was hanging by a thread.

“Rose, are you alright?” Giles asked softly, his worry deepening as he searched her face.

She forced a smile, giving her head a small shake as if to clear the fog in her mind. “Yes,” she lied. “I’m ready to leave.”

Xander took Rose’s car as the Scoobies made their way to the Summers’ residence, while Giles, quiet and tense, held the door open for Rose to slip into the passenger seat of his own car. As soon as they were driving, Rose turned to study the man next to her. His jaw was tightly set, and his knuckles had gone white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

“Rupert, what’s going on?” Her voice wavered, sensing the tension, but Giles didn’t answer. The silence felt heavy, ominous.

“Why aren’t I going to Buffy’s?” she asked again, her brow furrowing.

“Willow and I spelled my residence for protection,” Giles replied, his tone clipped and unreadable.

“But that doesn’t explain why I’m going there. Besides, The Magic Box has everything we need,” she pressed, turning her body fully toward him now, desperate to understand why he seemed so troubled.

Still, no answer.

“Rupert...” she said softly, a hint of panic creeping into her voice, “you’re scaring me.” There was a fragile quiver in her tone, betraying the fear clawing at her chest.

His silence broke at last. “I thought perhaps,” he began, his voice low and strained, “you would want to see your father. One last time... before everything.”

Rose’s confusion deepened. “My father? But you said your place?”

“When we performed the spell, your father was within the protective circle of my house,” Giles explained, his voice measured, though tension rippled beneath each word. “Which means he’s been able to come and go safely. As much as I despise Cole, I couldn’t let anything happen to him. I didn’t want to see you lose any more of your family than you already have.”

Rose stared at him, her breath caught in her throat. His words hit her with the weight of a confession she hadn’t expected. “You... you’ve been protecting my father?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, the enormity of it sinking in.

“Since Buffy’s birthday, yes.” Giles’ tone was gruff, but there was no mistaking the tenderness behind his actions.

Rose felt a rush of emotions swell inside her—surprise, gratitude, guilt. Her chest tightened, and she blinked rapidly as moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Rupert,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you...” The words came out broken, thick with the sudden realization of everything he had done for her. Giles had protected her father—a man he loathed—for her sake. He had sheltered him, ensuring his safety, even while knowing the depths of her family’s betrayal.

In that moment, Rose felt something shift. Giles had taken care of her in ways she hadn’t even realized. His loyalty, his devotion—there was so much more to him than she had ever allowed herself to see. The realization left her raw, vulnerable.

The rest of the ride passed in thick, contemplative silence. When they pulled up in front of Giles’ home, Rose immediately felt the presence of her family nearby. Their magic hummed faintly in the distance, like a static charge in the air. As she gazed out into the darkness, she could make out shadowy figures scattered across the surrounding streets, sentries no doubt placed there to keep watch on her father’s movements.

“Come on,” Giles said quietly as he gathered a book from the back seat, then gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The weight of his arm was steady, grounding her, even as her mind swirled with uncertainty. Together, they moved toward the front door, his protection a quiet, constant presence beside her.

Inside the dimly lit house, Rose’s eyes immediately found him—her father. Cole stood near the window, his figure tense, as though he had been keeping vigil. When his eyes met hers, something softened in his expression.

“Daddy,” Rose whispered, her voice small, fragile. The formal tension in her posture melted, and before she could stop herself, she rushed across the room and into his open arms. All the anger and betrayal faded, if only for a moment, as she collapsed into the safety of his embrace. She let herself believe, just for a few precious seconds, that everything would be okay, that this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.

“Rose,” her father breathed, his voice heavy with guilt as he held her close. He pulled back, just enough to look down at her, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry... for everything.”

Rose swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to forgive him, wanted to believe that the man who had once been her protector was still there, despite everything that had happened. Tears welled in her eyes as she blinked up at him, her resolve hardening. “It’s okay,” she whispered, though her voice shook. “I have a way to stop all of this.”

Cole’s gaze searched hers, worry creasing his brow. “How?”

“I’m going to stop the coven. I’m going to take away our magic... and put everything right.” Her voice was steady now, determination coursing through her veins. She felt stronger than she had in weeks. She would end this—no matter the cost.

As Rose stood there, wrapped in her father’s embrace, something profound settled over her. She realized that trust, once shattered, could be rebuilt—not through words, but through actions. Giles had protected her father for her. And now, standing here with him, she felt the warmth of that trust rekindle. She would save them all—even if it meant sacrificing herself.

Chapter Eighteen

#buffy the vampire slayer fanfic #Rupert Giles #Rupert Giles x OC #Rupert Giles/OC #Rupert Giles FanFiction #Rupert Giles FanFic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffyverse #Giles x OC #Giles/OC #Giles FanFic #btvs fanfic #btvs

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 6 months ago

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🌕 Blood Moon: Chapter Ten

Blood Moon: Blood Moon: You have been defying nature, and perhaps, even the Gods. After returning to life because of Tony Stark’s sacrifice, all humans now have a designation: alpha, beta, or omega. Angry at the fate you’ve been given, you decide that you will do anything to ensure that your fate is in your own hands. You’ll soon find out that it is never a good idea to tamper with fate, especially when one man makes it his mission to ensure that you understand that you can try to out-fly your destiny, but fate will eventually catch up to you.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mind Fuckery, Vomiting.

To Note: A/B/O Universe Post Snap, Zemo x NAMEDFemale!Reader, Timeline Of Events Is More Spread Out (Weeks Rather Than Days) To Fit Plot Line.

Word Count: ~5.4k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The morning sun filters through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the kitchen table. You sip your coffee, savoring the quiet before the day begins. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes fills the air, a comforting routine you've grown to love.

Bucky and Sam enter, both looking more serious than usual. Sam grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee, while Bucky takes a seat across from you.

"You look like you didn't sleep much," you say, eyeing Bucky's tired face.

"Couldn't sleep," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something's been bothering me."

Sam sits down next to him, his expression equally grim. "We've got news from New York," he starts, glancing at you before looking back at Bucky. "Flag Smasher activity's been on the rise again."

You set your mug down, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do they want now?"

Bucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "They're getting bolder. More organized. It's not just random acts anymore; there's a pattern."

Sam nods in agreement. "We've been tracking them for weeks. Last night we got intel on a possible attack on the GRC while they're voting."

Your heart skips a beat at their words. The Flag Smashers have caused enough chaos already; the thought of them escalating further is chilling. Violence in New York would injure so many people.

"So what’s the plan?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"We need to head back to New York," Sam says firmly. "Figure out what they're planning and stop it before it gets worse."

Bucky's eyes meet yours, concern etched in their depths. "You should stay here," he says softly. "It's safer."

You open your mouth to protest but stop yourself. Deep down, you know he's right. Your body and mind are still recovering from everything it's been through, and jumping into another battle isn't wise.

"I'll stay," you agree reluctantly, hating the feeling of being left behind but knowing it's for the best. "It would—it wouldn't be good for me to jump right back in."

Sam reaches across the table, placing a hand on yours. "We’ll keep you updated," he promises.

You nod, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go. "Just... be careful," you say, looking between them. "Karli has proven that she won't let anything stop her."

Bucky stands up first, giving you a reassuring nod. "We will."

Sam follows suit, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. As they prepare to leave, Sarah enters the kitchen with a curious look.

"Everything alright?" she asks, sensing the tension.

"Yeah," Sam answers quickly, pulling her into a brief hug. "Just some business we need to take care of in New York."

She frowns but doesn’t press further. Instead, she turns to you with a warm smile. "Looks like it’s just us girls with the boys then."

You return her smile, though your mind is already on Sam and Bucky’s mission ahead. You watch as Sam and Bucky leave, the door closing behind them with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. Sarah’s voice pulls you back to the present.

“Come on, let’s get these boys ready for camp,” she says, her tone light but her eyes concerned.

You nod, grateful for the distraction. Together, you head upstairs to find AJ and Cass, who are bustling around their room, excitement palpable in the air.

“Hey, campers,” you greet them with a smile. “Ready for your big adventure?”

AJ looks up from his suitcase, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait! We’re gonna do archery and swimming and—”

“And I’m gonna catch the biggest fish ever!” Cass interrupts, holding up a toy fishing rod proudly.

Sarah laughs, ruffling Cass’s hair. “Alright, boys, let’s make sure you’ve got everything packed.”

You join her in checking their bags, making sure they have enough clothes, toiletries, and other essentials. The room buzzes with energy as AJ and Cass chatter about all the fun they’re going to have.

“Don’t forget your sunscreen,” you remind them, slipping a bottle into each of their bags. “And remember to write us letters.”

Cass groans playfully. “Letters? That’s so old-fashioned!”

Sarah chuckles. “You’ll thank us when you’re not sunburned.”

Once the packing is done, you help them carry their bags downstairs. The van is already waiting outside, ready to take them to camp. You can feel a pang of nostalgia watching them; it reminds you of simpler times before life became so complicated.

AJ gives you a quick hug before bounding out the door. “Thanks for helping us pack, Diana!”

Cass follows suit, hugging you tightly. “Yeah, thanks! We’ll miss you!”

“I’ll miss you too,” you say sincerely, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

Sarah walks them out to the van while you stand on the porch, watching as they climb in with excited waves and shouts of goodbye. The van pulls away slowly, and you wave back until it disappears around the corner.

Sarah returns to your side with a sigh of relief mixed with wistfulness. “They grow up so fast.”

You nod in agreement, something deep in your chest rumbling for children of your own. “Yeah, they do.”

Two weeks have crawled by since Sam and Bucky left for New York. Every news broadcast has your attention, every headline about the new Captain America—a mix of horror and pride fills you. Sam wielding the shield, standing up to threats, showing the world what a true hero looks like. You’ve watched him become the symbol of hope he was always meant to be, even if it means he’s not here.

But your body betrays you. You sit at the kitchen table, rubbing your swollen fingers, trying to ignore the dull ache in your side. The headaches come and go, leaving you disoriented. The dizziness often forces you to grab onto the nearest piece of furniture for support. It’s getting harder to brush off.

Sarah walks in, a basket of laundry balanced on her hip. She eyes you with concern as she sets it down. "You don't look so good," she says bluntly.

You snort, managing a weak smile. "Thanks for that."

"Seriously, Diana," Sarah continues, her tone more gentle now. "You've been complaining about headaches and feeling off for days. What's really going on?"

You sigh and lean back in your chair, wincing as another wave of nausea hits. "I don't know, Sarah. My legs are swollen, my fingers too. I keep getting these dizzy spells and—" You gesture vaguely at your chest. "My breasts are sore. What exactly am I doing to make them feel like that?"

Sarah's eyes narrow thoughtfully as she sits across from you. "It almost sounds like you're pregnant."

You laugh it off at first, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right."

But then you freeze, memories crashing back in vivid detail—the unprotected sex with Zemo... twice. Your hand instinctively goes to the bite mark on your shoulder, a stark reminder of that intense night.

Sarah watches as realization dawns on your face. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"Oh no," you whisper, panic bubbling up inside you.

"Diana?" Sarah’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to throw up," you say quickly before bolting from the table and rushing to the bathroom.

You kneel on the cold bathroom floor, gripping the edge of the toilet as your stomach twists and turns. The sour taste of bile lingers in your mouth, and you heave again, emptying what little remains in your stomach. Sarah is there beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. The gentle motion provides a small comfort amidst the chaos swirling inside your mind and broiling in your stomach.

“Breathe, Diana,” she says softly, her voice steady and reassuring. “Just breathe.”

You try to focus on her words, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling slowly through your mouth. It takes a few moments, but the nausea begins to subside.

When you finally sit back, Sarah hands you a damp washcloth. You press it to your forehead, grateful for the cool relief.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still feeling shaky and drained.

Sarah sits back on her heels, studying you with concern. “I think we need to know for sure,” she says gently. “I’ll run into town and pick up a pregnancy test.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You nod numbly, unable to form a coherent response. Inside, panic flares like a wildfire. The possibility that you might be pregnant—carrying Zemo’s child—overwhelms you.

Sarah stands up, offering you a hand to help you off the floor. You take it gratefully, leaning on her for support as you rise unsteadily to your feet.

“I’ll be quick,” she promises as she guides you back to the kitchen and helps you sit down at the table.

You nod again, barely hearing her words over the roar of your thoughts. Your mind races with questions and fears. What will this mean for you? It wasn't like it would be universally acceptable for you to carry and give birth to Baron Helmut Zemo's child. Sam and Bucky could not find out.

“Diana?” Sarah’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

You look up at her, seeing the compassion in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Try to relax while I’m gone,” she says softly. “I’ll be back soon.”

You force a weak smile and nod once more. “Okay.”

With that, Sarah grabs her keys and heads out the door, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and rising panic.

You sit at the kitchen table, staring at the wood grain pattern, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like an eternity. The room is silent except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. You feel every second, every beat, pounding in your head.

Your fingers trace absent patterns on the tabletop. You try to steady your breathing, but it's shallow and erratic. The possibility of being pregnant with Zemo's child is too overwhelming to process.

The front door opens, and you hear Sarah's footsteps before she appears in the doorway, a small pharmacy bag in hand. She walks over and places it on the table in front of you.

"Here," she says gently. "Let's find out."

You take a deep breath and nod, reaching for the bag. Your hands tremble as you pull out the pregnancy test. The instructions blur in front of your eyes, but Sarah is there, guiding you through each step.

“Just follow the instructions,” she says softly. “It’ll be over soon.”

You make your way to the bathroom, clutching the test like a lifeline. The next few minutes pass in a haze as you follow the steps mechanically. Finally, you set the test on the sink and sit down on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for what feels like an eternity.

Sarah waits outside, giving you some space but remaining close enough to offer support. You stare at the test, heart pounding in your chest.

Three minutes pass slowly, each second marked by the ticking clock in your head. When time is up, you force yourself to look at the result window.

Two lines.

The world tilts on its axis, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You’re pregnant. With Zemo’s child.

You open the bathroom door slowly and see Sarah waiting with an anxious expression. Her eyes meet yours, and she knows instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, stepping forward to pull you into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

You cling to her tightly as tears stream down your face, your mind still struggling to process everything. Her warmth and presence provide a small comfort amidst the storm raging inside you.

"We'll figure this out," Sarah says firmly as she holds you close. "You're not alone in this. Uh, you know who the father is?"

Her words sink in slowly but surely. You take a shaky breath and nod against her shoulder.

You pull away from Sarah, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Yes," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know who the father is."

Sarah’s eyes search yours, full of questions. She opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

"Sarah, listen," you say, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Sam and Bucky can’t find out about this. They absolutely cannot know."

She frowns, concern etched across her features. "Diana, they care about you. They worry so much. They deserve to know what's going on."

"No," you insist, shaking your head vehemently. "If they find out... It would complicate everything. Sam has enough on his plate with being the new Captain America. And Bucky... He doesn’t need more on his mind."

Sarah sighs, crossing her arms as she considers your words. "But keeping this a secret isn’t fair to them—or to you."

You reach out and grasp her hand, desperation seeping into your voice. "Please, Sarah. I need you to trust me on this. It’s safer for everyone if they don’t know." She studies your face for a long moment, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt. Finally, she nods slowly, though reluctance still lingers in her expression.

"Alright," she says quietly. "I won’t tell them. But you need to promise me you'll take care of yourself and let me help."

A wave of relief washes over you as you squeeze her hand gratefully. "I promise."

Sarah's gaze softens as she pulls you into another hug. "We’ll get through this together," she murmurs against your hair. "With Cass and AJ too."

As you stand there in Sarah's embrace, the weight of the secret settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't stay in Louisiana. Sam and Bucky would find out all too easily and one whiff of you once they know you are pregnant? Game over. You are going to call Oezenik tonight, and get yourself the hell out of the country.

The jet’s hum is a distant memory by the time you land, the night swallowing any remaining traces of the journey. Oeznik's efficiency leaves you in blessed awe; not a single detail out of place. You could kiss the butler for his help. He guides you to a nondescript car waiting on the tarmac, and within minutes, you’re speeding through darkened streets.

He doesn’t speak much during the ride, and neither do you. Your mind is a whirlpool of worry and guilt, spiraling into dark corners you didn’t know existed. The injections—those damn injections. You had taken them religiously, thinking they were your lifeline. Now, the possibility that they could have harmed your baby gnaws at your soul.

The safe house looms ahead, a shadowy silhouette against the midnight sky. Oeznik parks and leads you inside, the silence between you heavy but understanding. The interior is regally spare, but comfortable—exactly what you’d expect from one of Zemo’s safe houses. No frills, just functionality.

Oeznik hands you a keycard and a burner phone before retreating to give you space. “You’re safe here,” he says simply, his tone reassuring but firm. "Anything you require can be found or purchased for you, Miss."

You nod, clutching the items tightly as if they could anchor you in this storm of emotions. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He dips his head in acknowledgment before disappearing into another part of the house. You’re left standing in the entryway, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Your feet move on their own, carrying you to what appears to be the bedroom. You collapse onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as tears well up in your eyes. You think about Zemo’s touch, his bite—the moments that led to this life growing inside you.

And then your mind fixates on those injections again. The thought that they could have harmed your baby is unbearable. You feel a surge of determination amidst your fear and guilt.

“I’m done with them,” you mutter to yourself, your voice gaining strength with each word. “No more.”

You search through your bag and find the remaining vials and syringes. For a moment, you just stare at them, feeling both anger and relief course through your veins. Then with deliberate motions, you throw them into the wastebasket by the bedside table.

As if sensing your turmoil, Oeznik reappears silently at the doorframe. “Everything alright?” he asks softly.

You wipe away stray tears and nod. “I’m stopping them,” you say firmly. “There is no need to refill my medicine. I won't be taking it.”

His eyes flicker with something like approval or maybe relief—it’s hard to tell—but he simply nods in agreement. “Understood.”

You lie back down on the bed after he leaves again, a strange sense of calm washing over you despite everything else swirling around in your mind. You’ve made one decision; now it’s time to face whatever comes next. A terrifying thought.

For now though—just for now—you let yourself breathe.

You wake to the scent of something warm and savory. The room is dim, shadows stretching across the floor as you blink groggily, trying to orient yourself. It takes a moment for your surroundings to come into focus—the safe house, the bed, the events of the past few days crashing back into your consciousness like a tidal wave.

Your body feels heavy, limbs weighed down by exhaustion and lingering aches. You push yourself up slowly, propping yourself against the headboard. A soft knock at the door startles you slightly.

“Miss Diana?” Oeznik’s voice is gentle but firm, carrying a note of concern.

“Come in,” you croak, your throat dry and scratchy.

The door opens quietly, and Oeznik steps inside carrying a tray laden with food. The aroma makes your stomach rumble in protest. You realize with a start that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

“I brought you something to eat,” Oeznik says, setting the tray on the bedside table. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time—about eighteen hours.”

Eighteen hours. The number shocks you, but then again, it makes sense. Your body had been running on fumes for so long; it’s no wonder it finally gave out.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not just responsible for your own well-being now.”

The reminder sends a shiver through you. Your hand instinctively moves to rest on your stomach, where new life grows. You nod slowly, acknowledging his words.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, reaching for a piece of bread from the tray. The first bite is almost heavenly; you hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now.

Oeznik watches as you eat, his expression softening slightly. “If there’s anything else you need—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask.”

You swallow another bite before looking up at him with gratitude. “I will.”

He dips his head in acknowledgment before stepping back towards the door. “I’ll leave you to rest,” he says gently. “But please remember to take care of yourself.”

As he exits the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, you let out a long breath and continue eating slowly, savoring each bite. As much as you wish for the food to bring you warm and soothe your growing fears, all your mind can focus on it that you are pregnant and without your alpha.

5 Months Later

Your hands move almost frantically, grabbing every towel, sheet, and piece of clothing within reach. The safe house has never felt this small before, every corner filled with the evidence of your growing desperation. Your omega instincts have taken over, driving you to create a nest—a place of comfort and safety for you and your unborn child.

But you’ve never done this before. The pile on the floor is messy, haphazard. Towels draped over chairs, sheets twisted into knots, clothes strewn about in disarray. You’re not sure what it’s supposed to look like, only that it’s not enough. It doesn’t feel right. It's not enough.

You drag another blanket from the closet and throw it onto the heap, then collapse onto it, breathing heavily and trying to rub your scent into the nest to make it more… right. Nothing changes and you feel like screaming in frustration. All you muster is a whimper as you press a hand against your enlarged belly. Your heart races in your chest, and your hands shake with the effort. Your body is screaming for rest, but your mind won’t let you stop. You need to finish this; you need to make it perfect. But it's not!

The scent of fresh linens mingles with the faint hint of dust in the air, but it’s not what you crave. You long for his scent—Zemo’s scent. Even just a trace of it would calm your racing heart, soothe the anxiety clawing at your insides. Your omega whines internally, a desperate plea for its alpha.

You clutch one of his old shirts—left behind in a drawer—from when he had worn it years ago. You press it to your face, inhaling deeply, hoping to catch any lingering trace of him. Nothing. You want to cry, or wail. Your omega likes that option, for it will surely call your alpha back to you.

Your omega stirs in agitation, yearning for more than just a scent on fabric. It wants him here, by your side, holding you close and reassuring you that everything will be okay. But he’s not here. He's not here.

You curl up in the middle of the nest, clutching the shirt tightly against your chest as tears prick at your eyes. The ache in your heart is almost unbearable as you realize how much you miss him—how much you need him right now.

But there’s no time for tears or longing; you have to keep going. More towels, more shirts. Something. You force yourself up again, grunting as you struggle to get your body off the floor. Your belly is so big now, so heavy. You grab more blankets from another room and adding them to the pile. As you work tirelessly to build something that resembles a nest—something that might bring some measure of comfort—you can’t shake the feeling that something vital is missing.

You know what it is; or rather who it is. It makes tears leak down your face because he isn't here.

You collapse in the center of your messy nest, panting heavily, sweat clinging to your skin. The room closes in on you, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Tears spill from your eyes, soaking into the blankets and clothes surrounding you. Your body trembles with exhaustion, muscles aching from the relentless drive to create a space that feels safe—a space that feels like home.

But it’s not enough. Nothing about this chaotic heap of fabric brings you any peace. It’s a poor substitute for what you truly need: Zemo’s presence, his scent, his touch. The thought makes another sob tear through you, raw and jagged.

You clutch the shirt tighter against your chest, wishing desperately that it could somehow summon him to your side. The ache in your heart grows sharper with every passing second. You bury your face in the fabric, inhaling deeply in a futile attempt to catch even the faintest trace of his scent.

The nest feels wrong, incomplete. You feel wrong—lost without him here to ground you. Your omega howls in frustration and sorrow, its cries reverberating through your very soul.

Another wave of sobs wracks your body, and you curl into a tighter ball, clutching the shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you from completely unraveling. The tears flow freely now, each one a testament to how deeply you miss him.

The weight of your emotions and physical exhaustion finally begins to pull you under. Your sobs gradually subside into hiccuping breaths as your body succumbs to the need for rest. You’re too tired to fight anymore—to keep pushing yourself when there’s nothing left to give.

As sleep creeps over you, a part of you hopes that maybe—just maybe—you’ll find some solace in your dreams. A fleeting moment where Zemo is with you again, even if only in your mind. Your breathing slows, the tension easing from your muscles as darkness claims you.

Yet sleep eludes you. Every time you close your eyes, your mind jerks you awake with a jolt, demanding you continue nesting. Your body aches, muscles twitching with the relentless need to make the space perfect. Each attempt to settle down is interrupted by another burst of energy, driving you to rearrange the blankets and pillows once more.

You toss and turn, sweat slicking your skin as frustration mounts. The urge to nest is overwhelming, primal, consuming every thought. You drag yourself out of the nest again, gathering more towels from the bathroom, another blanket from the closet. Your hands move almost mechanically, folding and refolding, arranging and rearranging. But no matter what you do, it never feels right.

You slump back into the center of the nest, gasping for breath as exhaustion seeps into your bones. Tears blur your vision, and a choked sob escapes your lips. The room feels suffocatingly small, the walls closing in on you as your omega howls in despair.

Just when you think you can't take it anymore, the door creaks open. You don’t even have the strength to look up, your body too heavy with fatigue and emotion.

A familiar scent fills the room—rich, comforting, grounding. Your heart leaps in recognition even before his voice reaches your ears.

"Diana."

Your head snaps up, eyes wide as they lock onto Zemo standing in the doorway. He moves toward you with purposeful strides, his eyes filled with concern and something else—something that makes your heart ache with longing.

You try to speak but only manage a strangled whimper as he kneels beside you. His hands are gentle but firm as they cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking down your cheeks.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm here now, Draga."

The tension in your body melts away under his touch, replaced by a profound sense of relief. You lean into him, burying your face in his chest as more tears spill forth—not from sadness or frustration this time but from sheer overwhelming emotion.

You pull away from Zemo, anger simmering beneath the surface. "You left me like this," you spit out, voice trembling with fury and exhaustion. "I’ve been agonizing over possibly injuring our child alone. All because of those damn injections I was taking before I knew I was pregnant."

Zemo’s eyes soften, his hands still cradling your face. “Diana,” he begins, his tone soothing but firm, “there were things that needed to be done before I could return to you. Important things.”

“Important?” you nearly shout, your body trembling with the effort. Your protective Omega instincts make your eyes blaze with fury. “More important than being here for me? For our baby?”

He shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his features. “No, never more important than you. But necessary.”

Your breath hitches as tears blur your vision again. The weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the loneliness—crashes down on you. A whine stirs in your throat, a noise of defeat. “I’ve been so scared,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Scared that I hurt our baby with those injections.”

Zemo’s grip tightens slightly, grounding you. “Diana,” he says softly but urgently, “listen to me. Those injections—once I realized what they were and that you were an omega—I started weaning you off them in Madripoor.”

You blink at him in confusion, the words not quite sinking in. “What do you mean?”

“The injections you took while pregnant,” he explains slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “were nothing but saline and a nonharmful scent that mimics chemicals. They couldn’t harm you or our child.”

The revelation hits you like a freight train. Relief floods through you so intensely that your knees buckle, and Zemo catches you effortlessly, pulling you into his embrace.

You break down completely then, sobs wracking your body as the tension and fear finally release their grip on you. You can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him anymore, or angry—not when he’s here now, holding you together when you feel like falling apart. He was the entire reason why you felt like you were falling apart, yet you still couldn't be mad at him.

His hands stroke your hair soothingly as he murmurs comforting words into your ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers over and over again. “I’ve got you now.”

You cling to him, drawing strength from his presence—your alpha, who is finally here with you.

Eventually, Zemo stands and helps you up gently, guiding you out of the room and into the hallway where Oeznik waits patiently.

“We’re going to a new safe house,” Zemo tells you softly as he leads you outside to a waiting car.

The drive is quiet to the airport but not uncomfortable; Zemo keeps one hand on yours the entire time as if reassuring both of you that this is real—that he’s really here. You are carefully helped onto the plane and directed to a seat where Zemo sits next to you.

The hum of the private jet's engines fills the cabin, a constant, soothing background noise as you sit beside Zemo. His hand never leaves yours, grounding you with his presence. Oeznik pilots the plane with practiced ease, guiding you through the clouds toward your destination.

Your heart races with anticipation and anxiety, a strange mix that leaves you breathless. So close, need nest. Nest. Zemo’s thumb strokes the back of your hand in slow, reassuring circles. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of his touch calm your racing thoughts.

“We’ll be there soon,” Zemo murmurs softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, not trusting your voice to speak. Time bends to your addled mind, making the trip seem faster than it is. Oeznik’s voice crackles through the intercom.

“We’re approaching the landing strip.” When the plan lands, you bare barely unglue yourself from Zemo's side to exit the plan. Zemo squeezes your hand gently as he stands, guiding you to follow him. You grip his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence as you make your way off the jet and into a waiting car.

The drive up the winding mountain roads is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The Swiss Alps loom majestically around you, their snow-capped peaks glistening in the sunlight. Your mind drifts back to the conversation on the plane—the reassurance that everything will be okay now that he’s here.

Finally, the car pulls up to a secluded chalet nestled in a grove of pine trees. The air is crisp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and fresh snow. Zemo leads you inside without a word, his grip firm yet gentle as he guides you through the cozy interior.

The chalet feels like a sanctuary—warm wood tones and soft lighting creating an atmosphere of comfort and safety. Zemo’s scent is everywhere here, enveloping you in its rich, comforting embrace. He leads you up a staircase to a bedroom at the end of the hall. Your heart pounds in your chest as he opens the door and steps aside to let you enter first.

The sight before you takes your breath away. The room is dominated by a large bed piled high with blankets and pillows—a nest meticulously crafted and coated in Zemo’s scent. The air is thick with it, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Zemo stands behind you, his presence a comforting weight. "I prepared this for you," he says softly, his voice filled with an emotion you can’t quite name. You turn to look at him, your eyes wide with gratitude and something deeper—something that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and beautiful.

Without another word, you move to the nest, sinking down into the soft layers of blankets and pillows. The bed is vast and inviting, and you curl up in the center, pulling a blanket to your nose to breath in his scent. Zemo follows, sitting beside you and watching with an intensity that you don't register. You can't, your mind is only focused on his scent enveloping you. It's the perfect nest.

Date Published: 6/18/24

Last Edit: 6/18/24

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#helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo

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sugolara · 5 months ago

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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚

ft. Shota Aizawa x daughter! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, Shota Aizawa and his eldest daughter must survive from the flesh eating monsters in hopes that Eri is still alive. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, cross-posted on ao3, wattpad, qoutev

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“Yawn!” F/n stretched. She leaned to her side and let out a satisfied groan when her back popped. She then looked to her side where Hitoshi was standing, eyes hooded as he felt extremely tired, “Morning, Hiotshi!”

The male slowly looked at her and blinked, “How are you so…chirpy? It's five in the morning.”

“How are you not?” She grinned, placing an index finger up, “We’re about to go outside for the first time in years! Brighten up a bit!”

“It has not been years.” He blinked once more, “And the suns not even up.”

“Turn that frown upside down!” She grinned with her fingers pulling up her lips and then questioned him like she always did, “Anyways, how’d you sleep?”

He shrugged as he wiped his eyes, “Sofa’s not that comfortable, but it’ll do. It reminds me of being in the dorms with the small beds, except…smaller.”

“You can always sleep with me! The warmer we are the safer we feel.” She said, but her eyes slowly glanced away as she realized what she said, feeling embarrassed and most of all shame for saying that. Especially since Shota’s right in front of them muttering at how tired he was.

The indigo male looked away, his sleep gone and a blush decorating his cheeks as he mumbled, “...Thanks?”

She mentally slapped herself as she awkwardly chuckled and decided to focus her attention on the knife by her hip. HItoshi did the same, fiddling with his bow while his thoughts raced. Way to go, F/n.

The truck turned on and Shota headed towards it, leaving the two flustered teenagers behind. Seeing Nemuri and two empty duffel bags he waved at her, “Morning. Where’s Hizashi?”

“Good morning, Shota.” She smiled at him before looking back to the homes as they stood in the parking lot, “He’s with Toshinori grabbing a few guns.”

“I thought you were supposed to do that?” He said, grabbing her bags and placing them in the backseat.

“He’s with the military man and I do not want to make an enemy.” She said, shivering as she thought back to last night.

He chuckled, “I understand. How far are we going?”

“Well, Toshinori wants us to go into the city next to us since we haven’t been there. Besides, there's a hospital and we haven’t gone to one yet.” She let out a soft sigh, “We’d of course have to prepare for any dead lingering around, but since it'd just be me and Hizashi I’m sure we’d manage.”

“Right.” Shota said as he glanced back to his daughter and student chatting. He squinted his eyes at the faint blush they wore, thinking he might be imagining it, “In any case, we’ll be closed by if you run into trouble.”

“Let’s hope we don’t.” Nemuri hoped as the last thing they needed was for them to be injured.

“You should also try to find a new pair of glasses.” Shota looked at her cracked lens, “Your visions not that blurry, but better safe than sorry.”

She grabbed her glasses and frowned, “But I like the design. It might be an apocalypse but that doesn't mean you have to let fashion sense go.”

The male shook his head and waved for F/n and Hitoshi to come as Hizashi was approaching them. When they stood in front of him he eyed them with a look before ordering them to get in. He then looked at his blonde friend and yanked the map from his hand, “You’re sitting in the back.”

“What? Why?” Hizashi groaned and then mumbled as he entered the backseat, “I was the one holding the map.”

“Because I called dibs.” Shota said as he passed the map to Nemuri and entered the driver's seat. Nemuri grinned as she entered the passenger seat and when Hizashi entered the back he was squished due to how small the seats were.

With F/n sitting in the middle, much to her dismay, and Hitoshi sitting behind the passenger seat, Shota drove off and waved at the military man who had opened the gate and then closed it. They then carefully drove off, the headlights off until they were at a distance.

Since the sun has yet not risen and since it’d be at least thirty minutes to reach the city, Hizashi decided it’d be best to take a nap along with Hitoshi who unknowingly slept as sleep won him over. All that was left awake was Nemuri, Shota and F/n who instructed, drove and watched ahead.

It was peaceful with only the truck humming and the soft voice of Nemuri. It would have lured F/n to sleep, but just like her father, sleep was her enemy. Before, she had taken pills that allowed her to sleep and now that she no longer has it, she wondered if she should tell her father. His genes were passed down to her, but in the years she has lived with him, she’s never seen him take a pill which always had her wondering how he slept.

She watched her father from the corner of her vision. His side face was all she could see and despite the darkness that consumed them, she could see his baggy tired eyes. The worry he held was evident. No matter how hard he tried to seem like he was fine, his daughter could always tell.

“How ‘bout a garden?” Nemuri hummed, “Vegetables and fruits are already rotting so why not plant some? It’d spare the community the trouble of finding some and it’d be much easier after we’re gone.”

“And where would we plant it?” Shota questioned her as he swerved to avoid hitting some cars.

“We’ll make a garden bed and place it in the parking lot. It’s spacious and considering the seeds we grabbed last time there’d be plenty of vegetation.” She said and then pointed to the right where Shota turned.

“Sounds like an idea. We’d just have to talk with them.” He said, eyes adjusted to the sun that was peeking out, “I’m sure they agree.”

She nodded, “Especially since they don’t like going outside. What I'm worried about is how they’ll manage.”

“I'm sure they'll manage fine.” He briefly glanced at her, “Y’know, you don’t have to come. If you want to stay I understand. The trip won't exactly be easy and since we’re days away, who knows what’ll happen in time.”

She shook her head and glanced at him with a smile, “We’ve been friends since high school. I would never leave you to look for Eri on your own and it’s just like you said, it won’t be easy. You’ll need all the support especially while you're protecting F/n.”

The girl in the backseat flickered her eyes at the older woman. She wasn’t sure if they knew she was awake. Nemuri’s words, although were not meant for her but instead towards her father, warmed her heart. While her friends were most likely dead, she was glad that at least her fathers friends were alive and still with him.

She ended up looking away when her father smiled at Nemuri. Her e/c eyes passed by a drooling Hizashi and glanced at the scenery which consisted of cars parked in the streets, left unattended. A few rotters were lying around, barely moving as the truck passed by them.

She turned her head to look at one of them as it raised its arm trying to grab the truck but it eventually let its mangle hand fall and its head slowly lowered. It made no effort to get up. For a split second it kind of looked like it was crying as the body shook, but F/n couldn’t tell if the car had made it look like it as the road was slightly bumpy.

The rotter also appeared to be new, like it had just turned overnight.

She turned her head back around and catched the sight of her fathers black eyes on her through the rear mirror. She gave him a smile, indicating she was fine and he turned back to the road.

When the car hit a bump, Hizashi’s head roughly hit the window and F/n was left shocked to see that he hadn’t woken up, but when she felt weight on her right shoulder she was even more shocked to see Hitoshi’s head laying there.

He was still asleep and she wouldn’t deny how peaceful and beautiful he looked. Especially with the way his lashes neatly sat on the lids of his eyes, his skin—lips—looking incredibly soft, and his unruly hair tickling her cheeks.

She was left feeling bashful. To know such a beauty was resting on her had her cheeks heating up. She ended up softly slapping her face while her eyes tightly closed and she silently screamed at her hands that covered her face. How dare she think of such a thought when they were in a dire situation.

Her father had looked back in the mirror when he heard a clasp, but he paid his attention back on the road and dismissed her usual behavior. A small smile crept up his lips though when he saw the look she always had when she was awkward. It was the same look he held in his teenage years.. Nemuri on the other hand could be crying tears of joy.

When they reached the city, Shota carefully drove until the hospital came into view. He slowed down and parked just a few blocks away instead near the hospital as they did not want to be trampled or caught off guard.

Feeling the car movements slow down, Hizashi woke up and let out a loud yawn while he stretched his arms, his back popping in the process. While the two in front discussed their plan, the second F/n felt movement on her shoulder she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep as she didn’t want the male to be embarrassed.

Soon, she felt no weight on her shoulder and she slowly opened her eyes while letting out a fake yawn and stretching her arms. She could see from the corner of her eyes that he instantly looked away and she felt pleased to see the tips of his ears red.

“Okay, let's go.” Shota said as they removed themselves from the truck. They grabbed the empty duffel bags. While Shota’s bag consisted of a rifle, gun, and ammo for the bows, Nemuri consisted of her and Hizashi’s gun.

“As we agreed, we’ll wait for you to return around noon so we’ll all enter the hospital.” Nemuri shrugged the bag's shoulder, “Stay safe, alright?”

“Yeah.” Hizashi placed a lock of hair behind his ear, “Don’t stray too far in case you find trouble.”

“Will do.” Shota responded and with a final glance they departed. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy as they strolled through the city. With skyscrapers anything could be lurking and he felt concerned for the safety of the kids behind him.

When they turned the corner, he stopped and looked at them who in return looked at him with a worried look. He took in a deep breath, his senses feeling the weight of the rifle on his shoulder, “Your first lesson, sniping.”

#aizawa shota x you #shota aizawa x reader #shota x reader #nemuri kayama #yamada hizashi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou x y/n #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader

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senoramassuave · 6 months ago

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An Oc BES

so this is a self insert, Fowler said in Episode 7 that he was orphaned and had to eat his sister liver to survive then buried her body. He needed a place to stay so he ran to London where we fought for food and shelter until he was taken in by a kind nun working at a orphanage (hence why he has a church in his castle) when he left the orphanage and grew he fled to Japan to sell flesh, opium and weapons. When Mizu captured Folwer they sailed to London, where the nun had a daughter named Avriella who looked like her mother and wore her clothes (A nun uniform changing into a long modest maid uniform when taking care of the children) but is mixed race (Latin and European) now worked at the orphanage taking care of the children (who are mostly mixed race or disabled) after her mother passed from illness. when Folwer and Mizu sailed to London they have nothing, are hungry and tired. So Folwer finds where the orphanage was and is greeted by a nun, he tells the nun how he knew the head nun that saved him and the two were welcomed with open arms by the nuns and caregivers oblivious to the crimes Folwer had committed. Once Folwer sees Avriella his feelings for her mother come back and he feels safe growing feelings for the caring yet feisty woman that reminded him of the nun that saved him as a child. Avriella is I tired in both of them asking them (mostly Mizu) about their lives and adventures in Japan (Avriella is also trying to convince Mizu that she’s not a monster for being mixed or for being a murder on a quest for revenge she’s kind of a supporting character to lift the spirit Mizu the main character) but later on Mizu, Folwer and Avriella discover that she’s a lesbian. She at the orphanage because she’s always wanted children but doesn’t like men enough to marry or “lay” with them disgusted at the idea she tells herself, oh I just haven’t found the right man. She finds joy in raising and helping the children because she never started her own family, she takes great pride and pleasure teaching, cooking, reading, playing and mothering the children. Eventually she leaves the orphanage for two reasons to help Mizu and Folwer and to try and find love for herself wanting to move somewhere warmer and safer to hopefully have a family.

Spoiler, She falls for Mizu and is heartbroken when Mizu doesn’t recuperate, Mizu tries to put her down by reviling she’s a girl but Avriella feelings only grow stronger. Folwer still likes Avriella because she looks like his savior but all the flattery and attempts that he makes to flirt goes right over her head thinking to herself that Folwer is a “good guy”. Eventually Mizu tells Avriella what Folwer has actually done. She is appalled and heartbroken, running back to London before returning realizing the two were in danger. Dispute her smaller stature and ditzy behavior she managed to help the two before she was injured severely (burned) and had to go along with Mizu and Folwer until she recovered.

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #oc lore #side character

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dominimoonbeam · 1 year ago

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Bite to Bruise - 22

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 22.

Bellamy ducked her head when he carried her into the house. The snow was coming down hard and fast outside. It happened like that every year. Winter fell on the woods and the valley like it meant to make the death of autumn quick and final. It would spread from there, burying them all in thick snow for months.

Usually, Bellamy was in her cabin when it started. She could watch the snow fill her meadow until it was higher than her porch before retreating through her portal to another land.

But there had been shades in her cabin. They had broken things, touching and tossing her belongings. It was hard not to feel like the whole place was ruined—hard to convince herself that she could fix it and stay.

Ever kicked the heavy door shut behind them, muffling the storm. It whistled gently against the windows.

He carried her down the hall to his bathroom and she watched the tracks his boots left in melting snow and blood.

It had been easy to open the portal but tiring to hold it for so long.

Ever put her down in the bathroom. With the pale light and the white tiles, it was impossible not to see the red that drenched him, smeared over skin and soaked into clothes. His eyes were still yellow, still impossibly bright. He palmed the side of her face again, staring right back at her. “Bath or shower?”

Bellamy smiled a little. Was he asking if she could stay standing? She was tired and everything ached, but she wasn’t that far gone. “Shower,” she decided, because together they would turn the tub red if they tried.

He huffed agreement and then peeled off his shirt.

She watched him kick off his boots and start on his jeans.

He eyed her, realizing she hadn’t moved to undress, and stopped with the fly of his pants open and the denim clinging low on his hips. “Wren?”

She jumped a little at her name on his lips. It was still strange to hear it outside her own head, let alone from him. She swallowed and nodded. It had been a long night. Her skin felt gauzy from magic and everything hurt like she was bruised from head to toe. She had lost her house, been in a car crash, been bitten by a shade, and helped a pack invade Ceres. She felt wrung out and uneasy, like she was leaning over the edge of a cliff and not sure if it was safer to jump or stay put.

Ever watched her with those wolf eyes like he could see her thoughts—see her soul. “If you want to clean up separately, I can—”

Bellamy pushed forward, leaned up onto her toes, and grabbed the back of his neck. She crushed her lips against his, tasting blood that was neither of theirs. His arms came around her, careful but strong, pulling her chest up against his.

His skin was tacky with blood and sweat, and she wondered if hers was the same. It looked clean, but that was just an illusion.

When the kiss broke, he was rolling her top up and off of her, careful of her injured arm.

“Bellamy…” Ever said gently, watching her unzip and pull off her boots. “Drop the glamour?”

She almost fell over, putting the second boot next to the first. They were filthy. So were her clothes. She looked at him, but her gaze slid off his shoulder to catch her own reflection in the big mirror behind the sink for the first time. Bellamy. She looked strong and healthy, no injuries and no weaknesses. No history on her skin.

She forced a smile and wrinkled her nose. “You’ll kill the mood if you keep talking like that, wolf.” She pulled her gloves off and tossed them to the side. He was still watching her. Still waiting. Bellamy rolled her leggings and underwear down her hips and thighs, hoping to distract him from whatever had him thinking he wanted to see through the glamour. She didn’t even wince when she peeled the blood-soaked cotton off the scrapes and cuts on her shins.

She straightened, expecting his gaze to roam now that she was naked, but those yellow eyes were waiting for her. He touched her shoulders, his fingers ghosting over her upper arms. “Bell… You were in a car crash.”

She stared back at him, her heart pounding.

“Your arm was still healing. At the very least we need to change the bandages.”

She swallowed. Her arm did hurt and the gauze around her skin felt loose and hard from dried blood.

One of his hands traveled up her shoulder, stopping short of her neck, his thumb stroking her collar. “And someone bit you.”

Bellamy exhaled hard, a little sick at the memory of teeth in her skin. “You definitely killed the mood.”

Ever smiled gently. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Drop the glamour for tonight. I promise no one is getting in here. No one will see you.”

“You’ll see,” she mumbled stubbornly.

Ever leaned back to look at her again, brow creasing. “You know I’ve seen you before, right?”

She hesitated. She hated this. Maybe she should have kicked him out of the bathroom and cleaned up alone. She was tired and everything ached. She just wanted to clean up and go to sleep. But she also knew he was right. She had to clean her wounds and wrap them.

“What are you scared of?” he asked gently.

Bellamy huffed and stepped back from the comfort his contact offered. “I’m not scared of anything,” she lied.

Ever watched her. He wasn’t going to call her on it. He would probably try to find a way to compromise.

Bellamy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, when she let it out, she let go of the glamour. It felt like dropping a shield in the middle of battle.

Ever wasn’t sure why she was so worried about letting the glamour go when they were alone. He had seen her true face before and he knew who she really was. He had almost reminded her that she’d been without the glamour the last time he’d patched and cleaned her up in her cabin, but she had been unconscious then and reminding her of a time when she’d been completely exposed seemed like the wrong move.

And then she closed her eyes and let the glamour go.

It was sort of like she dropped down to her heels after standing on tiptoe, her hair turning dark and tangled. She was badly bruised over the left side of her body, including the side of her face, and her neck was crusted in blood around that bite.

He realized she wasn’t looking at him anymore, her dark eyes focused on a spot on the wall. The same dark eyes as always.

Ever touched her ink-black fingertips, gently lifting her injured arm away from her side to start peeling the bandage off. It was tattered and stained through with blood and dirt. He walked them into the open shower while he worked, twisting the nozzle toward the wall and turning on the water.

She sighed and leaned back against the tiles.

Ever stripped off his pants and grabbed one of the little washcloths before joining her behind the glass wall, in the rising plumes of heat off the water. He turned down the heat a little, soaked the cloth, and then gently cleaned her arm. It looked better than he expected. She must have done something to help the healing process before coming back to the valley.

She’d only come back because he’d asked her to. She’d only been hurt because she’d come back.

But if she hadn’t…

“What are you frowning so hard about?” the witch asked, jarring him from his thoughts.

Ever shook his head. “Some of the cuts opened but they’re not bleeding anymore. It looks good.”

“Then why the frown?”

He sighed, ringing out the washcloth. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Wren. You saved me again…but you always get hurt.” He touched her jaw, lifting her chin to gently clean away the crusted blood from the bite on her neck.

She jumped a little when he brushed the wound, her hand on his hip. “To be fair… I get hurt without saving you plenty. At least this way we got something good out of it…”

The bite was already a thick ring of bruising around the scabs. It would be worse by morning. That biter had been overeager, or maybe just angry about the car crash. Ever’s gaze wandered, catching on a faint, curved scar on her shoulder. Another bite. Something older.

He washed her face, erasing the tear tracks through dirt and blood splatter. Her glamour had hidden everything. He traced the cloth down the bridge of her nose, feeling that little bump where it had been broken and never set right. Or had it been broken more than once?

He suspected she wore the glamour to hide tears and wounds, to look like nothing had or could ever hurt her, but he thought she was underestimating the power of her own face. She was breathtaking, her scars screaming of struggle and survival, each one a testimony to her strength. Ever knew humans didn’t always see scars the same way as fenrir, but Wren was no human.

He moved them both a step to the side, into the spray. “Tell me what happened tonight?” he asked, when really he wanted to ask her to tell him everything from the beginning of her life to this moment. He wanted to know every story about every scar and every wound that hadn’t scarred.

She turned to soak her hair, closing her eyes for a moment. His hand stayed on her back, ready to catch her if she fell asleep on her feet.

She sighed when she opened her eyes and he was still watching her, still waiting.

She turned to pick the body wash from the other bottles. “I was about to leave my cabin when I felt the shades in the woods and the little wolf… She was scared.” Her hands shook.

Ever took the bottle from her. He could soap them up while she told the story.

“She’s okay? You found her?” It wasn’t the first time she’d asked.

Ever nodded. “She was scared but she was okay.”

He brushed her hair over her shoulder and started lathering her back, feeling her muscles relax. “I wasn’t sure how many there were or why you weren’t in the valley… So, I put her through the portal and took her shape.”

He didn’t let his touch halt, rubbing smooth little circles up her spine to the back of her neck and then stroking soap over her shoulders. “I didn’t know you could do that. I suppose I should have. I’ve seen you in two shapes already.”

She shook her head a little. Her breathing had evened out. “It’s not the same. Bellamy’s glamour is something I constructed based on myself, on my own design. It’s me as much as this skin is me. Imitating someone else…their look and sound and scent… It gets confusing. I think I forgot who I really was in the car. I was just scared.”

He nuzzled the side of her head, kissing her cheek when she turned it toward him. He rubbed soap down her good arm, to her hand, between her fingers. She twitched when he touched the base of that missing digit but didn’t pull back. It was more like she expected him to. He was much more careful about the other arm and all the lines of cuts. Would it scar? Yes. He supposed it would.

“How did the car crash?” he asked.

Her mouth twitched and he knew the answer even before she said, “I made it crash. I heard you on the phone and knew you were back in the valley. The pack would be safe. So, I opened a portal. Or, I guess, started an opening and then lunged into the front seat and grabbed the wheel. The rest is what you found. I got out but I didn’t get away…” Her voice tapered off and his gaze flicked to the bite on her neck.

She’d still had the glamour of Piper on when he got there. Had the shade thought he was biting a wolf the first time? He would have known by the second ring of cuts.

“Thank you,” Ever said, not just seeing but feeling the way her whole body tensed, like words of gratitude had been a shock to the system. How could she not understand? “Blackwell was going to use one of our kids to force us to give up territory.” And it would have worked.

Wren huffed a tired laugh. “You would have come back and ripped them apart once you had her home safe.”

Ever’s hands stopped on her hips, a jolt of pride shooting through his spine and then settling in his heart. She had said it like a fact, like she believed in him and what he would do. He nodded, kissing her shoulder before crouching to rub his soapy palms down her legs, one at a time, from the top of her thigh down to her ankle, cautious of all those scrapes and cuts. “I would have, yes, but being taken even for a day could have hurt Piper in ways that would take much longer to fix.”

When he rose again, she was looking at him.

Bellamy was beautiful, alluring and dangerous, but the true face of Wren was full of menace, tempting in a different way. Just as beautiful, with the same dark eyes, like a sky without stars. “You should tell me to leave,” she said. “You should run me off your lands and never let me back.”

Ever growled deep in his chest at the thought.

Her hand came up to settle against his heart, never breaking eye contact. He felt the electricity in the touch of her ink-dipped fingers, an unknowable power humming in her skin. Those dark eyes looked up at him, begging him to reject her for his own good, and he calmed because he realized what it meant. She wanted to stay. She wasn’t sure she’d leave on her own.

Wren sighed, pretending to be annoyed when she saw the pull of his lips. She shook her head a little. “Fool,” she said, but he saw the sad relief in her face before she turned from him to get more soap.

Ever watched her shamelessly. His witch. Was she the only living witch? He hadn’t heard of any others and, after having seen just a glimpse of what she could do, it was hard to imagine any others were out there unnoticed. Although wasn’t that exactly what Wren had been until this week? The pack had known she was there, but they’d had no name for her and not laid eyes on her in sixteen years. And Baron had been searching all this time and coming up empty handed.

Whatever that first altercation had been that forced her to spill her blood and led to Ever discovering her truths, everything since had been on him. She had saved his niece and put herself in the clutches of a shade. She had been in that car crash and been bitten. The shade buried in his yard knew what she was. And then he’d asked her to open and hold a portal to Ceres. How long now until someone realized Ever had a witch?

How long before someone came for her?

How long before Baron came himself?

She soaped him up, making pink foam of layers of red.

Blood rolled off of them into the swirl of water at the drain, and Ever wondered, not unhappily, how many times they would be washing the blood of their enemies off together.

#Bite to Bruise #werewolf romance #werewolf x witch #monster romance #modern fantasy world #own world #own characters #house of teeth series #<3 #dominimoonbeam #clover down

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practically-an-x-man · 11 months ago

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how do your OCs sleep? do they cuddle with their partners? do they sleep hot or cold? how many pillows?

Ooooh good question! Thank you so much!

Rae: Sleeps cuddled up with Warren - she's a back sleeper, he's a stomach sleeper because of his wings. They're used to sharing a smaller bed from when they were in Berlin, so he tends to sleep half on top of her with one of his wings draped over her (it makes him feel safer). They don't usually need a lot of blankets, just one or two.

Robin: Usually starts the night cuddling, but since Peter's got such a warm ambient body temperature from being a speedster, they tend to drift apart in the night, especially when it's summer. Usually Yoda likes to curl up next to Robin, or even plop himself down on her chest if he's particularly being a nuisance.

Madison: Is perpetually cold, so she's usually got a lot of blankets and is rooted to Alex's side when she sleeps. Bravo seems to take up half the bed, but Madison doesn't particularly mind. The only time she's not curled up with him is when it's summer, since it's just too hot and sticky to stay close.

Ophelia: Half the time, she doesn't even make it to her bed. She'll get caught up in her work and crash on the couch in her lab. Even when she does go to bed on time, she's not much of a cuddler - and usually she and Peter are both bruised up from hero work, so cuddling just puts pressure on the wounds.

Jasper: Usually sleeps curled up close, with their head on Kyle's chest so they can listen to his heartbeat. It's calming to them. The only time this changes is when they get a new tattoo and have to sleep differently while it heals.

Katherine: Is a bit more of a nocturnal type since she spends so much time at the museum, but she sleeps alone for obvious reasons. She's usually got a lot of pillows and stuffed animals, basically making a nest for herself.

Kestrel: Can sleep just about anywhere, isn't very picky - they've spent a lot of time in hotels and other temporary housing while on missions for the Knights, not to mention overnight flights and things like that. Usually sleeps human, and braids their hair to keep it from getting tangled, but sometimes prefers to sleep as some kind of animal (cats are one of their favorites). Always tends to sleep a little better when Warren is with them <3

Quinn: Tends to sleep on her back, and very still. She used to toss and turn a lot, but since she became disabled that gives her a lot of pain. She also can sleep just about anywhere, since she's used to being packed into a dingy apartment or hotel room with the rest of her crew. Billy's a tactile guy and tends to be a cuddler when he sleeps - Quinn doesn't mind this at all, but also doesn't usually engage it themself because they're not used to it

Eris: Prior to meeting Rick, they would rarely sleep at all - only when they were heavily injured in battle and their healing tired them, or when they use their shape-changing and that drains their energy. Once they live with Rick, they continue to insist that they don't need sleep... but they're secretly the most cuddly person alive and could spent years just curled up with him if they had the chance. They would not admit this under torture.

Nikoletta: Is also perpetually cold, but is too traumatized from having her shadow-touch push her away from people to do anything about it. Most of the time, she'll just deal with being cold even if she knows cuddling up with Abner would fix it, since she's still bad about initiating physical touch - especially when she's asleep, and wouldn't know if her shadow-touch returned, or if she got a nightmare and it flared up, or anything else. Having the cats helps, though: they'll curl up with her and that helps her keep warm, and it's a lot harder to shoo away their sweet little sleepy faces.

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my ocs #jasper wilson #ophelia octavius #madison douglas #oc quinn/aces #oc katherine johnson #rae mckinney #robin cassidy #oc kestrel #oc eris #nikoletta bordeaux

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itfitsitshipsart · 1 year ago

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Too tired to write a full fanfic, but I still wanna share stuff. So imma ramble and maybe someday it'll actually become fanfic.

Hopefully.

Anyways, Vesperia and Raven stuff, tho I suppose I'm calling him Schwann for this cause that who my S/I knew him as.

So, Schwann never told anyone about that Blastia taking the place of his heart and keeping him alive, and has such mixed feelings about it. He hates its existence but doesn't dare let anyone touch it and wants it to remember the day he lost everyone and himself. His blastia is how Evelyn recognizes him once she is traveling with Raven.

Evelyn wanted to go out into the town to see things, nothing in particular (she rarely ever left the manor, a real canary in a cage), and thanks to having Schwann being the one with her at all times, she was allowed to.

The two got to see each other in some street clothes, middle/lower class, which was interesting, and both found the other quite lovely in the outfits. Of course, the compliments were polite. And in some ways, their time our in the streets and walking by the fields on the edges of the town felt maybe like a date.

Until Schwann sensed they were being followed. He was staying alert the whole time, especially since the whole reason he was with her was because of threats, so he quietly pulled her along to try and find a safer place and to lose the people following them.

They didn't lose them, and in the end, Schwann had to fight them off, killing them and protecting Evelyn, but at his own expense. She could clearly see he got injured, the way he held his chest, and the fabric of his tunic was sliced. And she saw blood. But he insisted it was nothing for her to worry about.

And that was the first time he really saw her act defiantly, by insisting he let her see and help, and she wouldn't take no for an answer after what he did for her. He couldn't stop her, and he let her see his replacement for a heart. And told her the vaguest bit about how his heart was destroyed in the war years back.

She was gentle with him, careful around the Blastia after seeing how he flinched away, and healed him the best she could before they made their way back to her home.

After they were back, he was taken care of by an actual doctor, but Evelyn still came to his quarters with tea and spent time with him while he recovered. And once he was well enough, he took his place beside her to guard her once again.

At least, until Alexei gave him new orders to leave.

Afterwards, while he was then Raven at the time, he stumbled upon Evelyn. And even though he was no longer her knight in shining armor, he kept protecting her.

It was almost like a repeat of the lat time, while Raven traveled with Evelyn, agreeing to take her to Dahngrest. As she feared, the people who set fire to her home, threatened her life, and killed her parents were pursuing her.

It was just bad luck for Raven to get injured again, and Evelyn felt completely responsible. While Schwann was mostly hesitant and didn't want her to see his Blastia, Raven was completely against it. But he was too hurt, and they were too far from any town to just leave his injuries.

So he let her take care of the wounds and kept his head down as she realized instantly who he was.

And he was surprised at how she was, despite confused and upset, happy to see her knight again.

#i have no idea if this is even coherant #all my heart ❤#self ship

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inkognito97 · 2 years ago

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Whisker me away Part 1: You've got to be kitten me

It had been another dreadfully long and exhausting night for the three Shadowhunters. Even though Jace, the only blonde one, kept playing it cool, his siblings knew that he was just as tired and exhausted as they were. It wasn’t like they found a nest of lesser demons every day. It hadn’t helped that their backup didn’t arrive until they had been spotted and engaged in combat. Isabelle, the only female in the group, shuddered at the feeling of the ichor on her body. But what made matters even worse: her new clothes had been ruined. It was highly unlikely that all that mess would get off with a simple wash. She feared that only burning the clothes would do the trick. What a shame, she looked actually really cute in them.

Isabelle took a look at her stoic and silent older brother. While Jace was still blubbering about a cute red haired boy he had seen the other day at some club, Alec seemed to be deep in thoughts. He was more the silent and brooding type, but the last few days he had been even more on edge than usual. She could tell and she knew Jace, as Alec’s parabatai, could tell as well, but they both hadn’t been successful in getting the bow wielding Shadowhunter to talk. Alec was an enigma and one thing was for certain, if he didn’t want to talk about something, then he wouldn’t. He would only open up, once he was sure and ready for it. It made Isabelle’s heart ache for his older brother. How often had he been the shoulder to lean on for the both of them, how often had he kept them out of trouble, took the blame himself and protected them? Countless of times! But now... Jace and she could only watch and wait, instead of helping him. It was a truly terrible feeling, to be this helpless.

“Hey... where’s Alec?” Jace’s sharp voice brought Isabelle right out of her spiralling thoughts and the guilt that had started to form in her heart.

“What do you mean ‘where is Alec’? He is right-,” she was about to point right to her left side, a step or two behind her, because that’s where he’d been just a moment ago, but now he was nowhere to be seen. “Oh no.”

“Izzy,” even though he was using her nickname, Jace’s voice was as serious as his face. He even tool a step forward and looked frantically around. “We have to find him!”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” she nodded and willed her snake-bracelet to slither its way down, until she head its head secure in her hand. She wasn’t completely sure if the needed a weapon but it sure as hell made her feel a lot better and safer.

“He can’t be far away... perhaps he got distracted?” Jace suggested, though it wasn’t clear if he only wanted to make his sister feel better or himself as well.

“Or... he is injured and hid it again,” grumbled the long haired female. It wouldn’t be the first time that her stubborn brother had tried to hide a serious injury. He hated it, when others worried over him and he also hated the infirmary with all his heart. Still, sometimes a visit was necessary, especially with demon poison running through your veins. Apparently Alec hadn’t gotten that memo... but he luckily got his siblings for that, if he wanted it or not.

“He doesn’t seem to be in pain,” murmured Jace, “at least our bond doesn’t give anything like it away.”

“Finally. Some good news.”

Jace hummed in agreement: “Let’s retrace our steps.”

“Good plan,” Izzy readily agreed and followed the blonde Shadowhunter. They would definitely find Alec and if he was alright... she would hit him, hard. He deserved it for disappearing like this and worrying them this much.

Meanwhile a certain tall, dark haired and blue-eyed Shadowhunter found himself in an abandoned looking alley. He was pretty sure that he had heard a strange sound coming from here. Considering the eventful night that he and his siblings had had, he wouldn’t be too surprised if he had ran right into another demon nest. But right now, he couldn’t see anything resembling one. In fact, he couldn’t even see the source of the strange noise that he had heard. Had he been hallucinating? Was it his exhausting playing tricks on his mind or had he been injured earlier on, without noticing? He wouldn’t put it past himself. While fighting, he was full of adrenaline and it made him feel pain and the effect of poison in his body, much later. No, that was unlikely. He had undoubtedly a few bruises and scratches here and there, but nothing too bad, otherwise he would have to fretting siblings all over him. He couldn’t be bleeding either, otherwise he would have left a trail behind by now, not to mention that his cloth would be sticking even more to his body, where he bleeding. The only reason for them to stick now was the black ichor and his sweat. Not the most pleasant mix, but some things couldn’t be helped.

There! He had heard it again. That strange sound from before. It was something between... pain, annoyance and a call for help, perhaps? It wasn’t human though. Alec furrowed his brows and let his bow appear in his hands, an arrow already at the ready. He was scanning the dark alleyway. At one point, it must have actually connected two main streets with one another, but now there was so much trash thrown away here that the alleyway was more of a dead hand. It only gave him one way to escape... but the same could be said with whatever it was that was making these sounds.

“Hello?” he asked into the dark alley. He felt perhaps a little bit stupid by doing so but his brain was tired. Nothing happened, not that he really expected otherwise. The thing, when in pain, was surely hurt and would not want unwanted attention on it. At least that is, how he would feel. Still, Alec stepped slowly forward, his eyes scanning his surroundings, his other senses also on high alert. He wouldn’t let himself be surprised.

He had almost reached the dead end without noticing anything that could be responsible for the noises he heard. Perhaps it had all been an illusion after all. Alec sighed and stopped in his tracks. The stones under his boots crunched under his weight. He needed a bed and a good night rest, soon. Yet he doubted that he would get a decent night of much needed slumber. His sleep was restless, ever since his parents were back at the institute. He had... not exactly nightmares, but not quite pleasant dreams either. Not to forget all the things that spiralled in his head, because of his parents. They were expecting so much from and of him... he wasn’t sure if he could give them everything they asked for. It was just... so much.

Another sigh escaped Alec’s lips. This was not the right place, nor the right time to think about this. He relaxed his posture, relaxed the grip on his bow as well and then he straightened to his full height. It was then, that he saw something... a pair of almost golden eyes that were mere inches away from his face. The owner of those eyes... hissed at him and only thanks to Alec’s reflexes, he was able to dodge the scratching attack that was aimed right at his face.

With wide eyes, he looked back at the creature... the cat, as he recognised a moment later. It was a cat.

“You got to be kidding me...,” he grumbled to himself. All this, just for a ill-tempered cat? What a night. It was a good thing that he decided to check up on the noise on his own, he would be a laughing matter for his siblings now.

And yet... there was something strange about the animal, which made Alec curious. He put his bow away, as well as the arrow. Then he took a closer look at the animal. The cat... was beautiful, he would admit. It’s golden eyes shone with brightness and something more... something that shouldn’t be there, but Alec couldn’t put a name to it. He let his eyes wander more. The animal was mostly black with a few colourful strands in its fur, though he couldn’t see the exact colour with the dim light in the alleyway. The paws looked strong but... were the claws glittering or was it just a trick of the little moonlight? It had to be a trick... or someone had done something to the animal. Now that he looked closer, Alec could see that the cat had no collar, so no most likely no owner. A stray cat... but it looked too well groomed for that. He hummed and then he saw the likely reason for the animal’s strange behaviour. The cat was trapped between the grid of staircases and... there was something dripping down onto the floor. It smelled like blood. The poor thing was hurt! No wonder that it was so aggressive.

“Okay... I need you to stay calm, alright?” speaking with a cat was not the smartest thing he had ever done, but well... there was no one here to witness it. “I don’t want to hurt you, you hear? I only want to help you.” He held his hands up to show the creature that he meant no harm. Again, stupid. A cat couldn’t possible understand such gestures, let alone his words. Yet to his surprise, the animal stopped hissing. It didn’t stop completely that is, but became way more quite.

“Good, that’s good. Again... I am just here to help,” he dared to make a step forward before pausing again as to not startle the hurt cat. Golden eyes seemed to look at him with extreme caution and suspicion and yet... no more hissing and the pause remained where they were so no more attacks.

“That’s it... that’s a good girl...” A single hiss was his answer, as well as disappointing eyes. “Or... boy?”

“Meow...” was the seemingly satisfied answer.

Alec was definitely going crazy now. He was holding a conversation with a black cat with golden eyes. He wondered, if the Silent Brothers would be able to help him or if he was already a lost cause.

He took another step forward, then another. The cat made no move to threaten or attack him and eventually Alec dared himself ho put a hand on the animal. Its fur felt surprisingly soft under his touch. He couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers a few inches through the fur. The cat stared directly at his hand, as if contemplating on attacking or letting him continue. The Shadowhunter deemed it wiser not to stretch his luck and he let his hand come to rest on the hind leg that was stuck. He was very careful, he didn’t want to hurt the animal further, but he eventually managed it with the help of his strength rune to bend away the hindering grid so that the cat could pull out its own leg. The fact that the animal didn’t immediately flee was another warning signal for the tall male and without thinking, he lifted the black menace up. The cat seemed to be as surprised as he, but this way, he gained a much better look at the bad looking wound in its side.

“That looks bad. How about I take you with me and patch you up and then you can do... whatever it is a cat does. How does that sound?”

He found himself staring right into golden eyes that held a scrutinizing and almost calculating look. Before Alec could scold himself from asking a cat for permission, two familiar voices sounded from the entrance of the alley.

“Alec! There you are. What are you doing?” Isabelle sounded accusing.

“We were worried and... is that a cat?” Jace asked.

Alec sighed and turned to look at his siblings, before his gaze returned to his foundling, who... almost looked at him with sympathy. Was he imagining this?

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evecolourshock · 1 year ago

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I had Thoughts (hi OP by the way, your art is amazing and I hope you don't mind?)

Beck doesn't trust the User.

Granted, according to Tron trust even for Users should be earned rather than given, but this one is even more confusing than most and Beck doesn't like it.

The first time he'd met User_SamFlynn, Beck had felt distrust and terror seize his circuits like no one else had managed to elicit. User_SamFlynn was a creation of User_KevinFlynn, just like CLU, and this one had all the powers the tyrant had coveted. If this User chose to crush the Grid under his thumb, he could do so in nanos.

Beck had stood tall that meeting, face carved from stone like his mentor had taught him and seething. Every analysis he ran screamed that this was a threat and needed to be eliminated - the only reason he had stuck to glaring instead of fighting was Tron's steady hand on his shoulder. He honestly doesn't remember much of what had been discussed, too busy fighting his own combat processes honed over countless cycles (fighying the urge to derez - too many deletions on his hands but that had been the cost of survival), just barbed words and the User storming off in a huff, trailed by an apologetic ISO_Quorra.

It had taken half a millicycle for Beck's hands to stop shaking afterwards.

So many are singing the User's praises, how he's fixing the Grid, restoring faith in Users at large - rumours of bringing in other Users, so they could help too - and undoing Clu's corruption.

Beck's waiting for the executioner's disc to show. Steeling himself for it to come bearing the face of a friend.

Because Quorra had outed him as the Renegade to the User, with no care for how he felt about an identity he'd still kept secret this long being exposed like that. Because yes Tron was back, but he'd been restored by the User, and Tron had been fine (if injured) before CLU had triggered his hack and set the twisted shell on the unsuspecting Argon populace and had only barely managed to avoid exposing or derezzing Beck by virtue of Beck not being there.

Because Paige had nearly derezzed him for being who and what he is, and while her derezolution at his hands had been an accident he'd never really recovered from having to strike someone he'd been close to.

Because Beck's tired of betrayals, and this time would let the disc hit because he's done with adding to the voxels on his hands.

User_SamFlynn hasn't done anything yet though. Beck hasn't even seen him after that tense first meeting, the User going out of his way to avoid Tron's successor.

It sets Beck on edge.

Quorra tried to mediate, like she hadn't taken all of Beck's hard work at a secret identity and set it on fire. He'd snapped at her about some things not being hers to tell, and the contrite look he'd received had been little comfort compared to the looming fear of how short his future would be. A thousand cycles of subterfuge and missed shifts and hidden scars, countless near-misses and even more missions, torn apart with five words. No, he would not be forgiving Quorra, and he would not be trusting User_SamFlynn any time soon.

After all, the Renegade still has a lot of work to do.

Which, of course, means that the one time he's actually able to get mostly through a shift without interruptions or Mara breathing down his neck is the one shift the User comes stumbling in on. Because that's the way Beck's luck works. He prays to the Grid for strength.

"Uh, I can come back later-?" User_SamFlynn starts, but not only is he unsure he's slurring. Beck turns, runs a clinical eye over the User. Helmet broken, not retracted. Eyes slightly glassy, swaying on his feet, abrasions on one side leaking User life liquid (he can afford to lose a little, Beck knows from Tron, but it's better not to). Gridsuit armour worn away.

A crash, then. Falling off a lightcycle somehow.

"No." Beck crosses the room in three strides, shoulders set broad - too much like the Renegade for this setting, but comforting enough to feel safer than his normal slouch. "With me, now."

User_SamFlynn makes as if to protest, but the raised eyebrow Beck's had used on him many a time forces the User to acquiesce.

The abrasions are easy enough, as the Gridsuit protected the User from the worst of the sliding damage. But the User is definitely concussed, and unfortunately Beck's the only one around right now who knows how to deal with a concussion, having had plenty of his own. Rest, but no sleep. Lots of questions. Motion and observation checks. Time consuming, and boring, and Beck doesn't really want to be around the User for the several millicycles it'll take him to recover enough to get out and go see a User specialist.

But. There's no one else. Tron's busy enough with his own problems, Quorra isn't on the Grid in the first place, and Beck doesn't know how to contact anyone else with enough experience to deal with a concussed User. So. His problem, this cycle.

In the beginning he keeps interaction to a minimum. Does the checks, sits in pointed silence, makes sure the User doesn't make an ilk-advised getaway. He has cuffs, and is not afraid to use them if he needs to.

User_SamFlynn fidgets. It's somehow more annoying than him talking. "Ask." Beck instructs, poring over the User's baton. For anyone else, it would be a write-off, but Beck's more stubborn than the damage.

"Why do you hate me?" The User asks, sounding small and injured - no grandstanding left in him, thanks to the blow.

"I don't." Beck answers truthfully, flicking out Bodhi's parts scanner and using it for its intended function of accessing tricky repairs. Instead of, well. Locks. Escaping cuffs. Bomb defusion. Sabotage. Any and all of the above and then some.

"You do!" The User insists. "You hate me. Why?"

"I don't hate you, I don't trust you. There's a difference."

"But-!" The User cuts himself off. Beck glances up to gauge if he needs to escalate anything, but the User is clearly trying to phrase what he means instead of struggling. "Fine. What can I do to earn that trust, then? Tron trusts me, is that not good enough?"

"You had your fingers in Tron's code, so no. It's not good enough. You could have made him trust you." Beck fires back, a little more ruthlessly than he intends, and the User deflates. Beck sighs, fight immediately snuffing out again. "Just- just delete me yourself instead of making my friend do the work for you. That's all I ask."

"I don't want you dead!" User_SamFlynn squawks.

"And?" Beck shrugs. "You're not the first to say that to me and then try to sink a disc in my back. There's only been one who didn't do it on purpose."

User_SamFlynn looks at him in horror. Beck grins sharply, and it hurts - he lets the glamour drop so he can take some strain off his scars. "You know who and what I am. Not by my choice, but you know." User_SamFlynn looks even more devastated. "Too many have done too much, and I don't care what happens to me any more. However. If you hurt Tron, if you take away his ability to choose for himself what he wants to do, what orders he wants to follow? There is nowhere you will be able to hide from me. He's been hurt and used enough already."

User_SamFlynn nods once, resolve breaking through the fog of his injuries. "I won't. And if anything like that happens, I want you to stop me. Before he gets really hurt."

Beck hums. "With pleasure."

The glamour flows back on easily. The silence returns, a bit more peaceful than it was.

Beck neither trusts, nor particularly likes the User. But now he feels like they can come to an understanding.

The girls are trying to explode each other with their minds 💥

#fanfics from others' art #beck and sam do not get along #but that doesn't mean they can't coexist #reluctant team-up for tron protection squad

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faintblueivy · 4 years ago

Text

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER.

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be.

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home.

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself.

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy.

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again.

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing.

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets.

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne.

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares.

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically.

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal.

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy.

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.”

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.”

Martha has been told what she needs to know.

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation.

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim.

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs.

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim.

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention.

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed.

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side.

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl.

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that.

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’.

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham.

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears.

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own?

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm.

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for.

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place.

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny.

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.”

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother.

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return.

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest.

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself.

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation.

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life.

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren.

Would he accept them? As family?

Would he love them? As family?

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

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junova · 4 years ago

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞.

notes: howdy guys, it's been a while. i've been taking a break and finally starting writing again, yay. it's been a rough few months and still treading through it, but i hope you enjoy a piece of my heart with this one.

if it's any consolation, my heart broke while writing this. </3

pairing — boxer!steve rogers x fem!reader

concept — steve has to come with terms of you not wanting him just as much as he wants you.

wc — 6.7k+ [yeah...]

warnings: 18+, themes alluding to sex, emotional cheating, soft!steve, heartbreak, kind of unrequited vibe going on, over all ✨ angst ✨

Even if it was the thousandth time to watch his body move in the ring, you still were memorized by the way he moved. You were in complete admiration of how his hips flowed so fluidly through his punches. Just like always, he was aware of your presence as you stood next to Sam and Wanda, both of them with proud smiles on their faces as he defeated yet another opponent.

Watching as they raised his arm, declaring him as the champion, something he’d been striving so intensely for, the past few months. Even if his body was bruised and littered with the hits Rumlow had been able to mark his body with and not to mention the busted lip, making him taste the blood with nearly every swallow.

It didn’t matter because he had followed through with what he had set his mind out to do. The looks Rumlow was giving him after all the smack talk he had served him was satisfying enough. Even if he didn’t think you did, he saw you standing there alongside his friends, celebrating the win of his life.

He couldn’t but smile proudly at your presence, even if the disapproval you have against his lifestyle was well known between the two of you and everyone else in your friend group.

Steve knew you weren’t a fan of the injuries you brought home in your shared apartment, the nights you actually stayed there. With Jordan’s absence from New York, you’d been staying there more consistently than ever.

He would never admit it out right, but it made his heart full. With you home, he could protect and he worried wherever you weren’t there. Even if he knew you were fully capable of defending yourself if need be, it would always make him feel better when you were close to him.

Just like him, you could confess it even to yourself, but when you were back in the apartment you shared with Steve, you’d always felt safer.

He went straight to the locker room, to clean himself up as best as he could without making his friends and Tony wait too long. He’d usually go straight to them but the group took notice he held himself back when you were around.

The first match you went to and he came up with bruises running along both rib cages, a bloody nose accompanied by a busted lip, he immediately took notice of the way you cowered away from him. Barely even looking at him as you congratulated him. From then on out, he realized how much it bothered you to see him physically injured.

When you’d come, he’d always make sure to clean himself up before. It really worked out on the days he didn’t want to be around many people. Only the stragglers from the crowd would be left, and his friends who supported him nearly every time.

As soon as he made his way over to the group, he was met with Sam’s warm smile pulling him into a warm hug. You found yourself wincing as soon as Steve did. “Easy there big buy, bruises are still fresh.” Sam let up just a tad, before everyone was congratulating him. You stood back with Tony, watching the proud smile grow on his face as he watched his prodigy surpass his monumental goal.

“You should think about coming to more matches. He fights better when you’re here watching him.” You twisted your neck so you could see his coach more clearly who was standing right beside you. “I’m sure he plays just as well when I’m not here. I still watch them everytime, just from home when it’s too much for me to stomach.”

You looked forward away from Tony, Steve coming into your line of vision as Sharon, his ex who had surprisingly shown up to corral by his side, someone you’d hadn’t seen near him in the past few weeks since she’d been out of the country for work.

“His technique and endurance is the same, but his intensity always rises higher when you’re here. I’m not the only one who notices, maybe the only one bold enough to say it to you.” Tony spoke as watched the man he took in when Steve was just sixteen.

Truly, it made his heart swell with pride to see him reach the level of success he had been dreaming for him since the pair had met. Knowing Steve for the past five years, also made him hyper aware of the girl he never seemed to shut up about, not that you’d ever find out.

No matter how much Tony was dying to let the words slip off his tongue.

“I’m just happy to be here for him.” Keeping your words short as you watched Sharon move closer to him, her hand resting on his chest and he didn’t even move away from it. You tried to ignore the ugly shade of green rising in your chest, but with him it always seemed to show.

Not that you’d had a right to, you weren’t single or emotionally available by any means, but the thought of him being with someone who had hurt him so much made you more protective of him than you had a right to be.

“C’mon little dove, have you thought about why you’d rather stay in the dinged up apartment with Steve than be with your boyfriend of three years across the country?” He pressed harder, making sure you were careful of your response. “My friends are here and so is my family. I can’t just leave everyone I love behind.” Your gaze never left Steve’s as he finally was out of Sharon’s grip.

“Steve’s here, too. You sure it has nothing to do with him?” Part of you couldn’t stand there with Tony and lie to him because you weren’t sure what was the nature of your relationship with the boxer.

Thankfully, you were saved from responding by the devil himself as made his way over to the two of you. Much to your dismay, he had to get in a few more words before Steve was in earshot. “Just think about why Steve lives with you when he’s had more than enough to move out for a while now.”

Before you could even process the words leaving his mouth, your favorite man in the ring immediately has you wrapped up in his arms. Holding you so close and so tightly, not even caring if it put more pressure on his lungs than he wished.

“Congrats on the win, Champion. I’m so proud of you.” The arms you had around him were placed gently, too afraid to put any weight on the new bruises. Not to mention the old ones which were still healing.

Once he pulled away from you, just enough so you could look at him. He hummed at Tony and with one nod of his head he knew when the young boxer wanted to be left alone. More times than not, it is usually with you.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight. Isn’t Jordan in town?” Not even when it was the biggest moment of his career thus far did he care to indulge in his victories. Always it seemed to be looking after you.

“Stevie, this is your night. We don’t have to talk about me — we’re always talking about me.” For a moment he almost bought your act until he looked into those dazzling eyes of yours, ones he never seemed to grow tired of in the past few years.

“I’m not happy unless you’re happy. So, if you need a night where we just watch romcoms and chow on cookie dough ice cream, you know I’m all yours.” Unknowing to the two of you, everyone of your friends was watching the encounter and still couldn’t believe you still were with your current boyfriend.

Or that Steve was just waiting for you patiently. Something that didn’t come easy for him around women. Before you, he didn’t really do relationships with women that didn’t end with him in their bed at some point. Somehow, much to everyone’s dismay, he managed to keep his interactions platonic with you.

At least in their eyes.

“No, Stevie. I’m fine. He just didn’t follow through this time. It’s not the end of the world, I’ll be fine. Tonight, I just wanna be by your side and celebrate you.” Although, he didn’t really believe you Steve decided he would let it go.

“Regardless of it, thank you for coming tonight. Means the world to me.” It really did. Even more so, when he felt like he was one of the reasons you were still in Brooklyn and not in California living with your boyfriend instead.

“Oh, hush bubba. You’re getting so soft on me and you haven’t even had a proper drink in you yet. Let’s just celebrate with our friends, yeah?” You kissed his cheek sweetly, before you were off to Bucky and Nat’s place to get properly fed and surely get Steve drunk off his ass.

It really was the elephant in the room you were choosing to ignore. The fluttering feeling of adventurous butterflies traveling to spaces you didn’t know existed. Everytime he pulled you close to his side or kissed your temple.

When Bucky would do something monumentally stupid, he would whisper a line in your ear humorous enough to hear you laugh. Even right now, when you knew he was exhausted, muscles sore and aching — Steve was still tending to whatever you needed.

In this moment, your body nestled between his legs as he draped his arm across your chest, letting him hold you close was exactly what you needed. Even if you tried to remove yourself several times because of the new injuries, he would never let you.

“What’s next, Rogers?” Steve watched as he craned his neck towards Sharon. You’d almost forgotten she was here, she’d been so quiet most of the night.

“A whole lot of rest and then in a few weeks, right back into training.” He spoke with pride because winning the title went hand and hand with defending it. “You should come to the club. Danielle’s been itching to see you, again.”

Steve grimaced, not just as Sharon’s words, but with how stiff your body became. The way you rubbed back and forth with the tip of your fingers against his forearm came to a halt.

You weren’t really sure what to do because now you felt horrible for even feeling like you had a right to be upset in the first place. Because you didn’t. You weren’t single and Steve was. In this space in time, he did nothing wrong.

When you followed Nat back into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine, away from him, it felt like he had made a mistake.

Just watching as you followed Nat up the pathway, in your pretty green dress, as you messed with the necklace adoring your neck. Something he learned you did when you were anxious.

“Why would you bring that up now? In front of her?” He was slightly pissed off she had driven you away and out of his arms. Steve would have you within his grip constantly if you would let him. Not that you did, but it was still a certain something he found himself wishing for. More than not though, someone else always seemed to hold your attention whenever he wasn’t in the ring.

Jordan. Tony. Sam. Natasha. Bucky. Wanda.

Tonight had seemed it might go in a different direction, until Sharon steered your mind elsewhere. One where you were a girl who missed her boyfriend. Or at least that’s what he thought.

Unknowingly to Steve, Jordan was the last thing on your mind, which allowed the guilt to settle in. Maybe, just this one time it was rightfully placed. The thoughts you were having scared you senseless — making you want to do something you knew you shouldn’t.

You just sat there on the padded bar tool as Nat grabbed a bottle of white with a bottle of red. Like time and time again, Nat read your mind just as she often did. “So, why couldn’t he come this time?” She drilled into you, her iridescent daggers as piercing as ever.

“He said he forgot his mother asked him to help her move out of the house. He said he’d make it up to me some other time.” Just like always.

But you held your tongue before voicing it to anyone other than yourself. It’d been months since you’d seen him in the flesh, and it was the first time he spoke to you in days when he informed you he’d been unable to spend any of his time off with you.

“He’s just never here and he keeps asking for me to move to Los Angeles, but my whole life is here. Before, he never seemed to really pressure me. He was always patient with me to travel at my own pace but I think he ultimately thought I would eventually go there with him.” You breathed out, scared of the truth dripping right out of you.

“I just-, you know what? Nevermind. It’s isn’t important.” She was never one to bite her tongue, but she found herself trying to when your feelings were involved.

“Tell me. What is it?” Your curious, bambi eyes peering into your soul, dying to pull the confession right out of her.

“Do you even miss him when you’re apart for so long? I’m not judging but it just seems like you’re okay. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but why don’t you ever go to him or Jordan to you?” Natasha spoke softly, afraid she might be poking the bear just a bit.

“Of course I miss him. I would see him if I could. I’m just a little too busy right now with work and my family.” You attacked back, feeling the need to defend yourself.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” With both bottles of wine on the counter, she went to grab three more wine glasses — for Sharon, herself, and you.

“Say what? What the hell are you talking about?” You pushed her as she put out the bottles of wine as she managed to link the three vines of the glasses in her left fingertips. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She was regretting it now, because maybe you weren’t quite ready to hear the words everyone else knew to be true. Anyone who was around the two of you could see it.

Perhaps, Nat never spoke a word of it because at the very least, she thought you wouldn’t be as naive to see his feelings. The ones he seemed to offer you on a silver platter, whether you wanted to reject or accept the offering, giving it to you wholeheartedly.

Following her out the patio door where the two of you stopped, not moving a step further. She didn’t really say anything either. Letting you bask in the glow before the fall.

He was laughing so hard, his hand clutching his chest as him. Golden hair shining bright by the fire pit, almost as

lively as his smile. Even if it looked like his spirit could have been beaten out of him tonight, he’d never show it.

When he had trouble keeping his eyes open, he’d force himself to stay alert because moments he could spend with ones he loved seemed too precious to pass up. Especially over the past few months — he didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Through the schedule Tony had him on, his life was eating, breathing, living boxing. Training every day in the gym, whether it be furthering his techniques in the gym to Tony making him regret any mistake he made in the ring.

Even some days he was just weight training when Tony told him he could rest. He couldn’t though. Not when he could taste the sweetness of his dreams on the tip of his tongues.

Every day, dawn till dusk, training consumed every moment of his time. Steve thought his body was restless before, but now? Nothing came even close to this.

Leading Steve to be blissfully unaware of what was actually going in that fantastically bold head of yours.

“Just spill it, Romanov.” You pressured her, but your eyes were too weak to redirect your directions elsewhere. Only Steve holding your attention at one.

“Remember when Steve left for Spain for three months with Tony?” Your body stilled, having a feeling you knew where this was going. Regretting you told her what had happened with Steve in the first after promising him it would just stay between the two of you.

“It was the year Jordan and I had split for two months.” The memory of what happened always clouding your better judgement. The way his eyes shined still haunted you. “Steve had already been there a month when it happened and the second I told him he insisted on flying me out.”

Looking at him fondly, across the greenery before speaking so softly as if he was right next to you, “I could never say no to him. I still can’t.” Nat tried to ignore it but she could see through the fog of your first love fading even if you were trying your hardest to avoid the inevitable heartache.

The care you held for him was oozing out of you, bursting and breaking at the seams. When you kept thinking of him more than a roommate, more than a friend.

“Dove, you can’t just keep pretending your feelings don’t exist. The more you try to bury the root deep the more it will grow.” You knew she was right, but you really didn’t want to hurt anyone.

You supposed you were already causing pain unintentionally. “His biggest insecurity is him. Jordan thinks I’m still here because of him.” You confessed, the ongoing fight no secret to anyone, really.

“Aren’t you?” Maybe if you had been a better liar, you could’ve convinced her but everyone could read you like the back of your own hand.

You hated the spotlight she was putting on you, but even more so because she was right. Moving forward with Jordan meant leaving someone else behind, something you couldn’t seem to prepare yourself to do.

“I love Jordan. He’s my first love and I thought he would be the greatest one, too.” You really want to stop the love and admiration flowing out of you, but you couldn’t choose who you love and maybe it was time for you to stop fighting it.

“Then, I met Steve. He responded to the ad I put out for the spare room in my apartment and we met for coffee.” If you had listened to your mother, her wishes of you not to be in the company of a man who was a complete stranger, you’d never meet the most important person in your life.

“He looked more like a boy back then. Clean shaven. No beard. Steve was still muscular, but not nearly as toned as he is now. But his eyes? They pulled me right in. Still do, every damn time.” You should have held some sort of shame, but you didn’t.

“You should do something about it, Dove. He isn’t going to be single forever.” Nat questioned as you followed her lead, back to the roaring fire.

“Nat, I love Jordan. I could never do that to him.” You really couldn’t, but you also couldn’t find it in you to move with him either. “I know you love him, but you aren’t in love anymore.” Growing closer and closer, back to the group, you saw him clearly.

“What do you mean?” Trying to ignore the pain in your chest as Natasha spoke. “I think you’re scared of ending it with Jordan. Dove. I’ve known you for a long time now and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you do with Steve.”

The words spilling out of her lips left you a little broken — the truth spearing you through. She wasn’t wrong, not one bit. Nat never nearly was, especially when your feelings were involved. Steve had become such an enigma to you in the past year.

The line of platonic friendship and overflowing emotional intimacy was becoming too entangled for you to even comprehend.

“Just think about it. I just want you to be happy.” The rest of the night, it’s all you could think about. A few days passed and it was still in the forefront of your mind.

When Steve was walking home with you this week, you couldn’t stop wondering all the hypotheticals swarming inside your dreams.

He could tell, too.

You’d never been so quiet, not ever. He’d like to hear you, especially when you were drunk. Like you seemed to be now, at least to him but tequila that lit a fire in your chest a few hours ago was beginning to wear off. Just when the feelings you kept trying to avoid would seep there way back in like your furry, fat cat Thor when he wormed his body through the gate into the apartment.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seemed off this week.” You felt his hand kiss yours, but he didn’t bother to find it’s home. He’d been keeping his distance or at least been trying to. You'd been so vulnerable lately and the last thing he wanted to do was exploit that.

Ever since Sharon had made a comment about Danielle, and you escaped with Nat, something changed. You more guarded around him, more than you'd ever been since you met.

Steve knew there was a reason for it, but he didn't want to push you — not when it looked like you would combust into a breakdown at any given moment.

“I’ve just been thinking about where my life is going and where I want it to go.” You confessed, letting your words linger. “Jordan wants me to move with him to California and I’m running out of reasons to say no.” In perfect harmony, your eyes met his at the same time.

They weren’t joyful what his bright blues usually possess, but this time they were indifferent. Not even you could read them.

“Do you want to move there with him?” Steve asked you, his heart on the verge of dropping into his stomach. “If it will make you happy, you should.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, you watched him drift away from you.

“I don’t know. It might.” Both of you coming to a halt, walking up to the apartment the two of you shared.

“He’s insecure about you. It’s why he’s pressuring me.” The two of your bodies so close but so far away as you stood in the doorway. With a confusing gaze and pouty lips, practically guiding you into temptation.

“He used to always tell me you were in love with me. He was fully convinced, still is. I never thought so. You were just my best friend, that was it. I just never really thought about it unless Jordan brought it up.” You would have loved to blame your sudden outburst on the alcohol, but it was something you'd been dying to do.

Before you never had the guts, but you a felt a pull towards Steve lately, like maybe there was something more trying to burst under the seams.

“I thought Tony was bullshitting me, fucking with me, but I didn’t ever give it a thought. Then, Nat brought up Spain.” Nights you told yourself were a mistake, but deep down it was the probably the safest you felt in a long time.

“What are you talking about? What did Tony say?” Fetching for the key, he slid it in before opening the door for you and following you inside. “Steve, why do you still live here?” Blushing cheeks and a string of incoherent words was all you could make out from him.

As he headed for the small couch, trying to make up an excuse good enough. One which you’d actually believe, he hoped.

“You make four times as much as me, if not more. For some reason, you’ve decided to stay in this shithole apartment — it doesn’t make sense.” He wished you would make sense of it, that way he didn’t have to say a word.

“Do you want me to move out?” He questioned, watching your movements. If you wanted him to move out, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

It was the last thing you wanted, but the line between your friendship with him was always blurred. Only now, when it was vaguely pointed out by the two people close to the both of you — it became more apparent than ever.

“No, I just, I guess I’m asking why. You know you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, but this place is a dump, Steve. Why on earth would you wanna stay here?” When he looked up, where you stood above him having a hard time biting his tongue.

Because you’re here.

It’s what he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the right and he would just be an asshole if he put you in a compromising position. He already felt guilty enough with his feelings in the first place, he didn't need to pile on.

“I guess it’s just easier to stay. It’s so close to the ring and I’m maybe a tad too comfortable.” You sat next to him on the couch. Finding yourself trapped in the green of his eyes. “Don’t you want something better?” Maybe it was him or maybe it was you. Neither of you could tell.

The two of you inched closer until Steve was caressing your thigh, just with the tip of his thumb. “I’m more than happy with where I’m at.”

“Well, I’m asking because I need to go to California. Just for a bit. I need to see Jordan, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.” He didn’t stop touching, not even with the mention of his name.

Even if it pierced him every time you talked about him. Or when Jordan came to town, he felt like he didn’t exist to you.

He didn’t blame you, not at all. Jordan was your highschool sweetheart, and you wanted so badly for it to work but something was holding you back. Something you were trying to let go of.

“He loves me so much and wants to start building this whole new life, but how am I supposed to tell him?” Steve said nothing, letting you sink into the ground.

“He’s been nothing, but kind and loving. Always there, always supportive. The best partner I could have asked for.” Steve laced your hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world, making butterflies erupt at full speed.

You couldn’t really pinpoint a moment when he started, but all you knew is how safe his warm, calloused hands made you feel. Since the moment you met, never failing to comfort you when needed.

“Then what’s the problem, Dove?” Steve questioned you, untangling his body from yours.

If he was going to help you, he needed to think and being so close to you wouldn’t get himself where you needed. Above all, you didn’t make any easier when a small whine left your throat — tugging at his heart strings.

“We never talk about what happened in Barcelona.” You watched his body tighten, muscles in his arm constricting.

It made him feel just as uneasy as it did to you. At least you could find comfort in that.

“Dove, there’s a reason for it. You and I both know it.” Steve was right. His self righteous sense of nature always kicked in when you wanted it the least.

“You don’t think about it? Because I do.” Pushing weight on his heart, you were very aware you held. You weren’t too naive to know just how much he cared for you, but coward enough to try and make him admit it first.

“You were broken up, things are different now. We’re home where you have a boyfriend and I have boxing.”

“Yes, where I have a boyfriend who wants me to abandon everything I hold close to me to join him without even bothering to ask me what I want.” You puffed out, exhaustion coming in overflow. “The past year, he hasn’t once asked me what I want.”

The boy with golden locks found himself wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms, nurse you back to health with all the love he could offer.

But even he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep on spreading himself thin over a woman who was so conflicted, so distraught she was collapsing within herself. If he wasn’t too careful, he might fall right beside you.

“Before we got back together, he asked me.” You confessed, feeling better as soon as the secret flew from your mouth. “He asked you what?” Steve pressed on, a bit terrified of it truly, but even he had to know.

“He asked if anything happened between us the months I was there and I lied. Ever since we met, he’s been insecure. He thinks I’m going to leave you for him and it wasn’t the first time he asked either.” You wish you hadn’t dealt with the two of them so poorly, but with the expression on Steve’s face you knew you had.

“He knows I lied and it hurts even more he stayed with me anyways.” Steve didn’t move, his fear keeping him still.

“I don’t know how to be his after you, but I don’t know how to let go of my high school sweetheart either.” You felt trapped, in between an impossible decision. An old love, who loves you past your mistakes, past the hurt and a soulful heart admiring you from where you’re at and nothing less.

“Those nights don’t have to mean anything if you don’t want them to.” He spoke softly, his beautiful orbs catching yours in the moonlight peeking through the window.

“They mean too much to me, that’s the problem.” If he didn’t move as you inched closer to his body, planting yourself in front of him, you could tell he was straining himself.

“Do you remember the first time?” He looked confused, wondering if you truly were bold enough to speak of something you shouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. Your hand found his chest, feeling the pulse of his rapid heart beat. “I was so shy and timid the first time with you, but you guided me so well.” Too fond of the memory of him worshipping every part of your body.

The very thing he wanted to do since the moment he met you, but Steve wanted more than that. Now more than ever.

“You don’t have to remind me, Dove. I remember.” He swallowed deeply, trying to erase the permanent memory of your body writhing beneath him, moaning out his name, begging him for more.

He still found himself thinking about it. Those two months with you had just amplified what he felt even more because now he knew what it was like for you to wake up in his arms, bare skin against his own.

The way you curled into his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist for optimal comfort.

Or when he’d wake up before you, which was most days, he’d find you murmuring his name in your sleep while soft fingertips caressed your skin lulling you into a more peaceful slumber.

“I never forget, Dove. That’s the problem.” With one finger, he pushed back the hair falling in your face tucking it behind your ear. “I tried to move past it, I went on a couple dates with this woman, Danielle.” You already felt your heart clench at the thought of him with someone else.

“She’s kind, smart, and beautiful and she seems to like me. Sharon keeps bugging me to take her out again since she set the two of us up.” Steve was trying to talk calmly, but he couldn’t ground himself. Especially when you only seemed to pull back further from him.

It was weird that Sharon set the pair up, considering she dated Steve not too long ago but it seemed she could put her feelings inside if it was for your despair.

In her daunting eyes, you were the reason her and the promising boxer broke up in the first place. As cliche as it was, she offered Steve an ultimatum after six months of dating — her or you.

Steve picked you.

It wasn’t like he loved her at that point. He did care for her, but you just meant too much to him. When kind, iridescent eyes met his own for the first time Steve never was able to stop thinking about them. Or you for that matter.

Carefully calculated as Steve could be, he managed to trap you between the closed door of his bedroom and his toned body.

“But I want to hear you say something before I do.” His gaze never faltered for a moment as he played with the hem of the short slip dress adoring your taut figure.

Half of your mind was begging you to retreat into your room and forget the last time you’d been pressed up against him like this. The other half wanted to see what he would do once he knew you were in the palm of his hand once again.

You had a feeling he already did.

His beard was grown out and his silky, golden hair that almost reached his shoulders make him look even more deliciously sinful.

“What’s that?” You tried not to gulp loudly, but if you even made the slightest movement, he would notice. “Tell me you’re in love with him.” His soft thumb caressing your side, not sure if he was trying to soothe himself or you.

“Just tell me five years down the line, you see him right there with you. Just say it, so I can move on.” He couldn’t even look at you, he couldn’t take the inevitable. “Tell me we’re just friends and Jordan’s your future.” You met his eyes, the prettiest blues you’ll ever see.

Commanding your attention without even trying — every damn time. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but you knew seeing him hurt was chipping a piece of you away. Watching his arched eyebrows furrowed in distress, fine lines being made in the middle for proof.

Soft fingertips met his skin, smoothing out his furrowed brows, closing his eyes trying to remember what you smelled like. Just like Sharon reached her breaking point, he had too. Steve couldn’t watch you any longer without being the one you wanted without a doubt.

“Stevie.” You softly whisper, before pulling him into your arms.

Even if he was double your size, he let you hold him as best as you could. Comfort him even if you were the reason he’s breaking.

The strong, persistent boxer had been transported back to the sick and thin kid he once was before all the guns and glory came. Steve was right back to where he got rejected by anyone and everyone. A time and many places where no one gave a damn about Steve Rogers, not anyone he wished for.

You watched him untangle himself from you, but you weren’t sure just how much time had passed. A few minutes? Thirty? An hour?

Only time could tell and she wasn’t really on your side at the moment.

“I’ve only found love once. Back in high school, there was this girl, Hazel. She was kind, sweet, eyes that shined like fresh honey. The first person to ever show any interest in me and I was in love with the fact that someone actually wanted me.” Steve felt his heart clench at the memory he wished to forget.

“I truly believed I loved her with every fiber in me and I thought she cared about me too, until I realized she was just using me to get to Bucky.” You watched the distress wash over him again and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel appreciated and loved. Not rejected and forgotten.

“It broke my heart for months because I truly believed I was in love with this girl who I hardly knew.” He sighed deeply, like he somehow already was aware of the soft whisper of goodbye.

“It always kind of stayed with me, not ever feeling like I was good enough for anyone until Tony found me. Graduated high school and I started training dawn till dusk until I couldn’t anymore just to start all over and do it the next day.” He was looking everywhere but you. Even if there was not a thing in this damn hallway, but two pressured hearts.

“Not too long after, I met you and I remember thinking this is the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met in my life.” Now, feeling like an absolute dick because you truly didn't deserve for this wonderful man to be in your life.

“You were so kind to me and you had no reason to be, but I learned it’s just who you are. This amazingly bright full beam, shining their light on everyone else — not paying attention to how much they give even if it’s everything they have.” Your skin felt hot beyond comparison, the passion in the words he spoke deeper than the memory of his skin against your own.

“I always tried to ignore it, how stupidly kind and thoughtful you are. How much you take care of me when you don’t have to. You cleaned my wounds for months without even asking me what I was doing.”

“I already knew you had a boyfriend, one you love very much, but I couldn’t stop myself from being around you. Now, I have to leave. I need to move on for me because I know how this ends for me — how it always has.” He sighed before walking away, leaving you hanging in every conceivable way. You didn’t notice the suitcase by the door before. Until he was walking out of the apartment with his possessions in hand — out of sight and out of mind.

“Wait!” He was already making it to his car, the old beat up pickup truck he couldn’t seem to get rid of when you reached him. “I just need time, Steve.” You’d been sprinting after him, until you caught up to him, making his attention fully focused on you.

“Jordan’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had — I don’t know how to let him go.” You were crying because maybe, deep down you were hoping you could have your cake and eat it too.

“And you’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with, Dove. I can’t keep sticking around hoping you’ll wake up one day and feel the same.” He emptied his belongings in his truck before returning his attention towards you.

“Steve, don’t do this. Please. Don’t leave me.” You’d become so dependent on him, more than you realized. “You’re the only person who truly loves me and not for who they want me to be.” Trying to plead with him, but it felt like you were only pushing him even further away.

“Then tell me I’m the only one you want.” But all he was left with silence because you couldn’t and he already knew what you didn’t. He knew you hated change more than anything, that you’d rather stay in what was comfortable even if you were presented with a different option.

Someone you wanted more.

With tears in your eyes, you looked up at him like he was crushing you and there was nothing to stop the numbing feeling. He sympathized, maybe more than he liked to admit, it’s what he chose to live with over the past year. It started the moment he met you if he was truly being honest.

He knew there was nothing left for him, no matter how much his heart clenched at the sound of your cries. He couldn’t be the one who was always taking care of you, loving you, when you didn’t feel what he felt. It was splitting him open, and you just kept taking pieces of him away — parts of him you would hold forever.

He let you cling onto him one more time, begging for him not to leave you. He let you believe he wouldn’t as he calmed you back in a false sense of security. Until you were asleep in his soft sheets later that night, leaving you lonely in the home you’d been sharing.

With only half of his belongings with him, he pulled up to the project he had just completed. Even now, with not a single hope you would ever see it after he just abandoned you, there was still a light hope you’d be able to at least see it one day. If Steve was ever strong enough to face his heartbreak again.

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levisgirll · 3 years ago

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Hello! Can you please do a Levi headcanon/scenario where he hurts his crush's feelings and makes her cry but later regrets it and tries to apologise to her? Thanks!

𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 (𝙇𝙚𝙫𝙞 𝘼𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

➡text: Hello there!! And omg of course I would be happy to write this out 🥺 the fact that to see levi apologize or own up to his mistakes is something that I would like to even write about- so thank you for this request! I hope you love it anon ♥ (incoming some fluff and you wont regret it!)

synopsis: it was a long tiring day and with under pressure levi ackerman had, he accidently said something to y/n (his crush!) which hurt her feelings. levi feels terrible and to make it up for it, made y/n realize that levi and her might share the same feelings for each other.

fluff, angst, aot world, imagine fanfiction ♡ —

It was a long stressful day at the Survey crops headquarters building, and Captain Levi was assigned with many paper work to get done with.

The last expedition made Levi worry quite a lot for Y/N and her safety. Sure she was skilled, and a fast thinker but that still did not stop Levi from worrying about her. It was because he was the captain he had to worry about his squad....right?

But after Y/N getting hurt on the last expedition because she is kind of ‘reckless’ to what Levi thinks and used as an excuse, his heart sank and he then realized not only did he care about her too much, but he also developed feelings for her and with time it grew. Just her presence, the way she was, caring, friendly, confident, her natural beauty and a badass made him fall for her more.

But ever since on that day, he blamed himself for her getting injured because she was on his squad team.

The upcoming expedition was next month and he was becoming even more stressed and load with paperwork because it was a bigger mission this time they never had. Y/N obviously noticed that so after having a chat with Hanji she went by to his office and entered inside. They become more comfortable with each other so she was pleased to enter his office whenever she wanted to.

“Hi Levi, how are you?” she said with a bright smile, trying to light up the mood that was surrounding in his office.

“What do you think sherlock?” He spoke in a sarcastic tone and then let out a deep sigh. “O-Oh, Um I was wondering if you would like some help with the paperwork? I am free the whole day.” Her kind gestures always somehow warmed his heart, he liked the fact how in her free time she would always visit Levi and try her best to help him. But tonight was different, it was too much pressure loaded on him, he was not thinking straight.

He didn't respond to her offer and instead he got up from his seat behind the desk and gave her a piece of paper. “Read.” Was what he only said.

You took the paper from him and noticed....you were removed him Levi’s squad! “W-What....why.” You said so quietly but it had a very unhappy tone.

“You know why. You are too reckless, and I don't want that in my squad.” He lied and looked away, it was not because of your recklessness and never was because you were brave and perceptive. But in fact, it was because he wanted to keep you safe and away from harm because this time his squad was placed on the front and he moved you all the way on the back where it was safer. He does not want to lose you.

“I-I don't understand Levi...I though you trusted me-”

“Yea I don't trust you, and I clearly don't have time for you either.” You couldn't believe what he was saying to you, this behavior was out of nowhere and it made absolutely no sense! But, he was your source of motivation and inspiration and when he said that to you, it shattered your heart to pieces. You thought he had faith and trust in you and that's why he added you to his squad, you thought....you were important to him. Well, was important.

“Levi, please this makes no sense. At least explain to me why!” You yelled out, demanding an explanation for what the hell was evening going on.

“Don't argue with me.” He now gave you one of his hateful glares, and you know in a million years you would never be getting that from him, you were completely taken aback now. “Leave now! That’s an order L/N”.

You eyes were widen now, and your eyes were slowly starting to tear up. These words, completely damaged you and your feelings, he even called you by your last name which he never does. You never felt so hurt and your stomach sank which left you static and....heartbroken. Hearing this is a ego-killer for you. The paper you held slowly fell off from your hand, and you brought your hand up to cover your eyes and started to softly sob.

He noticed that quickly, and he wanted to come and comfort you but before he could do that you stormed off, slamming his door, y/n never wanting to see his face again.

Levi took a moment to process everything and then realized he had actually messed up everything. Both of you were so close and the bond and moments you both shared, Levi cherished that deeply. But, he ruined everything, shattered the bond, and now actually ironically losing you. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes tightly, “Fuck...The fuck is wrong with me?! Why am I so damn emotional.” And it was a fact, he was that when he bottled everything up and then let out his steam saying some bullshit.

It was days, and he didn’t even see or hear about Y/N. He did not get any sleep, staying up, overthinking his stupid mistake and regretting this all. His gilt, anger towards himself and grief started to grow by each day, hating himself how he hurt the person he had a crush on and someone he adored a lot which then lead to him thinking how to come to you with his true and deepest apology.

He tried to catch any chance to get you whenever you are alone and say apologize, but whenever he saw you, you would just jolt and try to run away and leave the place.

He then noticed from Hanji and the other scouts such as Armin and Mikasa that you were clearly avoiding Levi. He caught you by chance one evening as you were sitting down in the mass hall eating your sandwich alone so cutely and he just missed seeing that sight whenever you both had breaks and he would watch you eat cheerfully but....you were so down, that spirt was gone.

He was approaching you, and you then noticed that and felt your stomach sink, ‘Is he coming to me? Wait...he is, it’s only me here!’ You thought in your mind, panicking and not knowing what to do.

”Good evening.” He uttered, but you noticed there was some nervousness in that tone.

You did not look up at him and you left your sandwich that was half eaten on the plate, and got up. You lost your appetite, and you proceed to leave the mass hall, but you stopped in your steps when you heard Levi yell out. “No...d-don’t go. Please just stay for a bit.” The way he said it, was under such pain and he it sounded as if he was begging you. He really struggled doing this, but he would do it regardless if it was just to speak to you again for a bit.

He caught up to you, and took your wrist while his thumb was caressing your skin. You were still looking down, not wanting to see his face because you knew if you did now, you would tear up again.

“Can we talk please?” He said really quietly, and if the mass hall was not empty you wouldn't be able to grasp what he had said. Levi was clearly tensed and not sure if what he was doing is right, he never done this before, apologizing and talking about his feelings. But he would only, and only do this for the person he loved. Y/N.

“What do you want?” it came out more coldly then you expected and that made him hesitate. He remembered the image of your expression and you sobbing that day and it is still graved in his mind. He cant seem to get it out his head and he wanted to hear your forgiveness so it could go away.

“I fucked up, I know. But fuck, I...miss you.” He finally said, in a nervous and stuttering tone. He now moved his hand from your wrist to your soft and cold hands, and you could feel his warmth, warming your hand.

He brought up his other free hand and placed his palm on his forehead. Clearly this was hard for him and he felt such a jerk and an idiot cause all his words is now gone and he wasn’t sure how to say how apologetic he was and how you meant the world to him really.

But he know thought, How could he do this to someone who regularly checked on him, cared for him and also actually saw him as a normal person unlike the other scouts who thought he was heartless and just labeled as ‘strongest solider’. Y/N was the only who truly cared for his wellbeing and he admired that a lot. “Hey....I’m sorry. Everything I said wasn’t right. T-To be honest it was your bravery that made me fall for you...and care a lot more about you. So, please tell me What should I do to make it up for you?”

This caused you to finally look up to him and staring at his grey eyes, and after such a long time you were able to see his face clearly and close up which never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You stared at him for quite awhile, kind of surprised to what he said and the fact he was holding your hand meant a lot. But Levi took this as you still not wanting to talk to him, he wanted to say more and better things but he was quite bad formulating any more cause it him nervous and afraid to say something else to upset you further. He really did care about your feelings. “I won’t go....till I hear your answer. I waited long enough.”

You spoke, and after a long time hearing your voice this nearly made him tear up and that was because you were a big part of his life. “I can’t stay mad at you forever, so I forgive you. But, you hurted me and I cant forget that easily. But for now, Just....hold me.” You went near him and now placed both of your hands on his chest. He did not waste any second and pulled you in for a hug. It was probably his first time hugging you like this and he never knew it would make him have this fuzzy and sweet feeling like this. Of course, he would hold on to your waist, arm and shoulders sometimes during battle or when you needed some support to get up and move. But this was different, and he questioned himself how he never considered that.

Y/N and Levi both finally made up with each other, and he was really grateful for that and even the fact you forgave someone like Levi, he felt really lucky.

Of course, it will take some time for you to accept his apology, but he wont give up just yet and he really makes an effort everyday, you guys took it slow and he is more than willing to wait for you ♥

As, regret and remorse can lead a person to feel sorrow, this can cause a sense of sorrow for hurting someone such as Levi’s crush, and even though it was bad, this lead to him finally confessing and saying his true apology if it weren’t for this. Time is a healing process after all.

Once you finally sat down with Levi and talked back (after the countless times he tried to initiate a conversation or start something such as cleaning together but never got much a reaction from you) and had a small conversation with him asking how was his day. This melted his heart and he actually felt really happy inside that you finally started to speak to him. He missed your company, your sweet voice, and....that smile.

You surprised him further when you gave him tea (because he gave you so many things to somehow make you smile) and his eyes lit up, Levi never felt so happy in the last few weeks. Then he knew, that you. y/n, was his light and source of happiness. He drank the tea slowly cherishing it.

wow okay this was kind of emotional then I excepted it to be, but I honestly see a scenario like this happening where levi struggles and tries his best to own up his mistake and apologize and he would only be like this if it was to his crush and someone he loved cause this man gets nervous <3 so please y/n, give him some more hugs, he might not seem to ask for any but he is deeply inside craving for it. It’s his best comfort as it is coming from you! Anyways, please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoyed this and I hope you liked this anon 💖

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writteninscarlet · 9 months ago

Text

Wanda realised it was psychological that sitting by him (no, sitting on his lap) and feeling him so close made her feel better. She was injured and his touch wasn't healing, but she felt safer which gave her some mental rest. And his presence diverted attention from pain. His touches were gentle, in such contrast to the actions that had given her the bruises and cuts.

She listened to him speak, leaning back into him and simply thinking on it. Wanda couldn't completely argue against those words. How he coped wasn't how the majority of the populace would term to be coping. "I know everyone copes differently. But it's also good to know you do cope. What I've gone through isn't-- Well, it's not the worst the world has to offer. And today was hardly anything compared to some days. You're coping mechanisms are your own. But it's nice knowing everyone copes in their own way, that there's no, uhm, right way about it."

How he coped was up to him. It wasn't something she would pry into right now. She recognised some of the methods, simply from observation. When you were around someone so often it was harder not to pick up on things. Though Wanda supposed the fact she cared for him meant it was important to her, in a way. He was used to pure survival. She wasn't used to it in the same way but she had purely acted for the sake of survival before. When her adoptive parents died, when it was just her and her brother, they had fled. They'd stolen, they'd fought, they'd hid. They did almost all they could in order to survive. It wasn't always nice. It certainly wasn't healthy. But sometimes simply living was the best and only thing you could do.

Wanda's hand reached for his, not taking it but letting her fingers softly roam his skin. Across one finger, to the next... Idle movements, but she gained some comfort from the touch.

Her movements froze when he spoke up though, eyes narrowing questioningly at his words. He knew? Wanda listened, not bothering to hide her emotions in his presence. If he asked how she felt, she'd no intention of lying to him, so why waste energy hiding her expressions? Besides, it was mostly a mix of mild confusion and curiosity - with a nice amount of annoyance as well. A.I.M. was something she had heard of before. Not in any level of depth, but it meant when he explained that she understood. And it did make sense. An organisation like that wouldn't hesitate to design weapons like this with no care for how they were used.

Silence fell for a moment as she thought on his words. It was hard to answer, because was there one single answer to this question? "Why?" she repeated, before sighing softly. Her hand that had rested on his went to her head, fingers rubbing her temple gently. Wanda could hazard a guess, but that would be it. "Because I'm a weapon, too, I suppose. Ah, I mean--" She tried to think of how to answer this, and found some focus when she decided to look properly at him. "I don't think my ego is that big that I think I'm unstoppable or the most important person out there. But what I can do isn't exactly cheap parlour tricks. It's... It's reality altering. It's chaotic." And as far as she knew, there was no end to it. She felt tired when she used her powers, but with each training session or actual fight her stamina built. And frankly, Wanda was only scratching the surface of what she could do. She held her hand out, a swirl of red mist around her fingers. Dancing wisps of soft light.

"I'm a witch. And a mutant. And, oh, I don't know what else. It's all just labels. What it adds up to is being able to alter probabilities with the flick of a wrist, cast spells, and alter reality. ...The casting spells part is a work in progress. That sort of thing needs to be taught, and much as I never actually attended a school I don't think it's on the regular curriculum. There's plenty of magic users out there - sorcerers and warlocks. But my magic is innate. It's part of me. Chaos magic. Fun name, isn't it? It just means old." Also powerful. And linked to an ancient god. Evil god. That was attached to her. Maybe. Well, hopefully he didn't ask further questions yet, she didn't have any answers to her own questions about herself.

Essentially, she was a problem. And didn't it make sense to eradicate the problem? She'd already shown she wasn't on their side.

"Actually, it's all a work in progress." Her voice glum for a moment. Power was hard to control, and until recently she had feared what she could do. Fear meant instability and therefore she was involved in plenty of accidents. "Sounds ridiculous to say it out loud. Witches and mutants and weapons, oh my. Like a book."

As she spoke, her gaze had fallen from his. She ran a tongue softly over her lips, then looked back to him. "I can fight." Simply stated. But it was followed with, "I can fight. But I'm no expert. I tend to rely on my power. Which..." A little twitch under one eye, looking at her hands now in her laps. "Which I suppose could be taken away. Silly."

Bucky was intimately aware how the little injuries added up and made themselves known in those initial moments after adrenaline fades. He feels them in her as she flinches - unconscious or not - in her settling against him. He does what he can to ease her, continuing to rub her back, or lightly trace the nape of her neck. While his other hand remains firm and steady on her thigh.

He also listens attentively and patiently, gauging whether or not she's putting on a brave face. "I don't want you to live in fear, but to recognize fear can also good." It's a double edged sword. When you constantly expect there to be a threat, you move about the world looking for it. You react to it. But you constantly live in that fight or flight response and it ruins your brain chemistry. Bucky bites his lip. "Maybe I'm the wrong person to ask or give advice on this. My coping mechanisms aren't exactly healthy."

At least he has the self awareness to admit it.

The ideology he's used to survive is a contradiction. Bucky's desire to build a home, find peace, exist, while also being consciously ready to drop everything at the first sign of a threat and flee. He recognizes it's not okay, but makes no strides to change it either. But he's never had to. He's never had someone there to push him, or make him want to change. Wanda is the first true threat to this, because it has given him hope. Not that he's willing to label it as such, because it's the dirtiest four letter word he knows - and he knows a lot of four letter words.

But the fact remained, he knew what it was to be a hunted and coveted thing. He knew there were some people out there who would pay a pretty penny to reactivate the thing living inside of him. And he knew, without a doubt, if they were successful, he wouldn't be in there anymore to fight back and dampen the power.

"I think I tracked who made the weapon." He confides. He'd honestly been sitting on it for a few days while basking in the domestic bliss they'd fallen into. He realizes now it was his mistake. "Are you familiar with A.I.M.?" He's asking as a formality, but intends to elaborate anyways. "Advanced Idea Mechanics. They are a bunch of big brains with too much time on their hands and no focus. So people pay them to focus on their own efforts - good, bad - it's just terms. They don't really care who pays them, as long as they pay."

"Point is, they've been around for a while - and if someone is paying them to develop weapons to bring you down, I've got a big, difficult question: Why?" Bucky draws back from where he'd been keeping his face close to her to really look at her now. It's true Wanda's power is great. It's true he doesn't know the full depths of it, but he's seen her fight enough to know that on the wrong side, she'd be unstoppable. But he doesn't know anything beyond what she's already shared with him. He doesn't know much about why she's spent so much of her life running because he's never asked.

He's never asked because he's also never wanted to be asked.

"And I need to know if you can fight without your powers." Because if she can't, he's going to teach her.

#ᗢ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ once and always a witch ; ic #lamentingwclf

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