#but I wouldn’t mind! seeing Buck holding a bit of a grudge!

[subtlehaz]

can I share something that might be an unpopular opinion? is this a safe space?

so obvs The Lawsuit™️ gets talked about all the time. and while I understand Buck’s thinking… do I necessarily agree a whole lawsuit was the way to go? depends on the day. but! what I wanna know that I don’t see a ton of discourse about, is do we think Buck forgave Bobby too quickly with the treatment he gave post-lawsuit (and the treatment that led to the lawsuit in the first place tbh)?

the whole reason the lawsuit happened is because of what Buck essentially considered as Bobby’s betrayal. we know about the Divorce Era with Eddie that happened BECAUSE OF the lawsuit, we know Hen was the only one to properly welcome Buck back with a cupcake and not really hold the lawsuit against him, but we also know Bobby was still kind of a d!ck and influenced the behaviors of the rest of the 118 after the lawsuit.

we really just see Buck at the hospital after getting checked out because he cut his arm saving those people on Halloween, and Bobby showing up and being like, ‘hm, maybe you are ready to come back’ and Buck is like ‘wanna get breakfast’ 🤨

am I the only one that kind of wishes Buck like. acknowledged Bobby’s behavior? like I get he was just so grateful to have it all over, to be back to properly working etc. but NOTHING?! I mean maybe he felt so bad about the lawsuit he didn’t care? Idk someone talk this out with me

[imtryingbuck]

Eighteen part two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 2,240

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

A/N pt 2: when I saw the duck tattoo I screamed, no joke I screamed! Make sure you have a look it’s so bloody cute!

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

They spent the rest of the night and early hours of the morning apologising, promising to make up for their mistakes. All three guys crying when she told them how much they had broken her heart, the guilt still there front row and centre but she promised them that it was all forgiven.

Steve and Sam had begged for forgiveness for not being there for her but she reassured them that all was forgiven, that it was time to move on.

Even though all three of them had hurt her and they hadn’t done anything to help her when she needed at least one of them the most, she had forgiven them. She missed them more than anything, they were the other part of her fractured soul.

She didn’t want to hold any grudges against them.

For a whole month Y/n caught up with her boys, caused mayhem just as they did a few years ago.

It was as if nothing had changed.

They didn’t understand what was happening when they showed up to Howard’s and Maria’s house to take Y/n out for the day when she opened the door where they could see two suitcases by her side.

“Bun? You’re leaving again?”

“Yeah only for two months, going to travel with Nat and Wanda. Isn’t that so exciting?” She smiles.

“Yeah, yeah how come you didn’t tell us?”

“I was a bit busy catching up with you guys…”

“Is it going to be just you three?”

“No Pietro, Clint and Vis are coming too”

“Who’s Clint and Vis?”

“Clint’s Natasha’s boyfriend and Vis is Wanda’s”

“Will you be coming back?” Steve asked.

“Yeah of course, then I’ll start my new job. I can’t wait”

“What job?”

“You know Mr Stan? Well he’s given me a job as his accountant”

“I’m so proud of you Bun”

“Thanks Duck-“

“Y/n come on love we’ve got to go” Maria interrupts as she checks over the plane ticket and double checking that Y/n had enough money.

“Okay momma, give me a hug then boys”

For the two next two months Bucky was out of his mind. He wouldn’t sit still for long periods at a time. He had gotten a taste of the happiness he had for years, went without for three years and then he got it back just for it to leave with Y/n once again.

“Buck she’ll be home in a few days”

“It’s been too long man”

“Are you going to tell her?” Sam asks.

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re madly, hopelessly in love with her?” 

“No I’m not!”

“Yeah right and I’m Captain America” Steve snorted from the kitchen.

“I’m not in love with Bunny. And plus she’s got a boyfriend and I’m seeing…shit what’s her name?”

Sam burst out laughing, nearly sliding off the chair and Steve shook his head “Lily, Bucky her names Lily”

“Yeah I’m seeing Lily”

“How’s that going Buck?” Sam says as he calms down.

“Great, it’s going great”

“Bullshit she told Sarah that when you two fucked you kept calling her Y/n.”

“No he didn’t!” Steve gasped. Between me and you he already knew.

“Yeah and it’s pretty much the same with every girl he’s slept with, he calls them Y/n’s name” okay Steve hadn’t heard that before.

“Fuck off man, it’s not been with all of them” Bucky weakly tries to defend himself, again just between me and you what he just said was a big fat lie.

“L to the I to the A right down to the R, guess what that spells Buck… liar.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh and plus you have a bunny tattoo on your chest” It was true. On Bucky’s eighteenth birthday he went to the tattoo studio to get his first ever tattoo, he saw it in the book as he flipped through it halting his movements as he saw the cute bunny. It was a lot smaller but he asked the tattooist if he could have it bigger which the guy said yeah, Bucky had him also add the small love heart.

Over the year he got a few more added to his body but his bunny that sat just over his heart was his favourite of them all.

“Don’t mean I’m in love with her”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

“No. No it doesn’t.”

“Steve help me out here man” Sam begs.

“I’m not getting involved. But Bucky your in love with Y/n/n”

Groaning Bucky stands up “fuck you both I’m going out to see Lucy”

“Lily!”

“Yeah her, bye”

“I’m sorry Y/n” Pietro says wiping her tears.

“No it’s okay, I understand honestly”

“I just don’t want to hurt you baby”

“I know Pieface just don’t die please and please be safe”

Laughing sadly at the nickname she had given him he nods with a promise that he’ll be safe.

“I do love you Y/n/n”

“I love you too Pietro”

Giving one final long hug they separate from one another, she watches as he walks through the doors to the airport wiping her fallen tears she smiles and waves at him as he looks back at her, giggles fall from her lips as he pulls a funny face to her.

“Won’t you be able to see him in a few months?” Wanda asks softly.

Shaking her head Y/n shrugs “h-he broke up with me”

“You what?”

“Yeah, he said he doesn’t want to hold me back and wants me to live my life whilst he’s away”

Pietro had told her a few weeks before coming back home that he signed up for the Army and had been accepted. Though he did love her he didn’t want her staying at home worrying about him, he wanted her to experience life and who knows when he got back they could rekindle their relationship, though Pietro knew it was unlikely. He knew that Y/n loved him but he also knew that she was in love with Bucky, and for him there was no way he was going to get in the way of her happiness even if that wasn’t with him and to be truthful he was okay with it.

“Y/n/n I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, it’s fine honestly. Let’s go home I’m missing my bed.”

“I still can’t believe you’re not coming to college with us” Nat says as she pulls on her seatbelt yanking it a little to hard when it gets stuck.

“I know but it’s just not for me you know”

“It’s not going to be the same” Wanda says.

“I guess but you two can’t get another me to add in to your friendship group or I’ll cry”

“Definitely not happening, if another female tries to be our friend we’ll kick them” Nat says seriously.

“Don’t kick them Jesus that’s a bit harsh, just say “no you can’t be our friend because we already have the bestest one” but please don’t kick them”

“I’m kicking them”

Saying her goodbyes as she’s dropped off at home her eyes start to sting with the amount of tears she’s cried. They all promise that they’ll meet up as soon as they can.

As she tells her parents of her adventures and shows them all the photos she had taken, she hands them their gifts.

“You didn’t have to get us anything angel” Howard says loving the pyramid paperweight she had gotten him.

“Alright I’ll take them back”

“Touch it and I’ll bite you”

Gasping she looks at her mom “momma did you just hear what he said?”

“I did sweetie but I have to agree your not taking these back” admiring the snow globe she had gotten, already knowing exactly where it was going, adding it to the collection she had been collecting since she was twenty.

“Where’s Antonio?”

“I’ve told you time and time again not to call me that, hey baby sis” hugging his sister he checks the bag for his gift.

“It’s not in there Tone, it’s outside”

“What have you gotten me?”

“A car”

“Holy shit! Really? I knew there was a reason why I kept you around”

“Yep come on” Her, Tony, Howard and Maria make their way outside.

“Whe-what the hell is this Y/n?”

“A car” she laughs along with her parents as Tony picks up a toy car off the ground. “I brought you a car”

“You’re such a little shit!” He laughs along. “Oh nice new tat”

“Cheers”

“You got another one?” Maria asks wanting to see it.

“Yeah it’s a turtle his names Sid, isn’t he cute?”

“Sid?” Howard questions.

“Yeah, we went to a sea life centre and we got to meet Sid the turtle, so naturally I had to add him to the collection”

“Obviously” Tony rolls his eyes.

“Anyway I’m going to go to the boy’s apartment and give them their gifts see you later”

“Be careful!” Maria calls out.

Panting as she knocks on the door she nearly collapses into Sam’s arms when he opens the door.

“Jesus Y/n, Holy shit guys Y/n’s back!”

“I can taste blood in my mouth is-is that normal?” She asks.

“Are you alright?”

“No Samuel I’m not alright I’ve just walked up a trillion stairs just to get here! Why do you have to live so far up?”

“It’s easier when the elevator works” he grins.

“Hey Y/n/n” Steve says hugging her.

“Hi Stevie”

The three of them hear hurried footsteps coming towards them and when they look they see Bucky rushing down the hallway “shit, Bunny you’re back! I nearly fell in the shower trying to rush to get out” he pants pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

“I-I-I’m sorry but…Ducky…”

“What’s up Bun?” He follows her eye line and he’s realised his mistake. In his rush he managed to pull on some shorts but no shirt.

Meaning that she can see the bunny tattoo.

And unbeknownst to either one, they don’t realise that Sam and Steve have their eyes trained on the tattoo she has on the top of her spine.

“That’s a bunny” she points of the obvious.

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Why?”

“For you”

“When did you get it done?”

“On my eighteenth birthday”

“And it’s for me?” Watching as he nods “can I?” He nods again to the unspoken part of her question, his skin tingles as she reaches out and runs her fingers over the delicate lines.

“Oh Duck it’s beautiful”

“Your hiding your own little secret aren’t you Y/n” Sam smiles.

“What are they talking about Bun?”

“I-um-I got this done on my eighteenth birthday” she says turning in his hold to show him her tattoo.

“Bun, it’s us. Can I?” It’s her turn to nod at his unspoken words she gasps lightly when his cold fingers trace the lines, he’s so mesmerised by the details and polka dots that he simply couldn’t stop touching it. “Bun it’s so beautiful”

“It was my first tattoo, obviously”

“So was mine”

“I actually feel really left out” Sam admits wrapping his arms around Steve’s “Stevie they don’t love us”

“That’s not true because-“ she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and shows them the tattoos she had gotten for them ‘♡ S.R ♡ ♡ S.W ♡’ with a love heart on the top of her forearms. Not batting an eye at the scars the two boys lean in as Bucky leans over her shoulder.

“Who’s who?” Sam grins “but Y/n you actually got our initials tattooed on you?”

“Your obviously SR idiot and yeah of course I did, these were my second tattoos”

“B-but we weren’t friends at the time” Steve says as he eyes the long jagged scars.

“Well you three were a massive parts of my life and the reason why I got the duck and bunny on my back was because Bucky was the first person to see the scars once they where heeled and he never once judged me so”

“Y/n…”

“Anyways you want your presents, I’m like Santa but less cool” she moves out of Bucky’s hold and makes her way over to her bag and started to pull out the gifts, laughing as Sam stands there with his eyes closed and hands out stretched. Steve shakes his head at the guy.

Bucky, well his eyes are trained on his Bunny.

He knew he was in love with her since he was fourteen and now he wonders if she feels the same. 

“So how’s you and Peter doing?” Bucky asks as they wait for Steve and Sam to come back with the pizzas.

“Pietro, and he broke up with me”

“What? Why?”

“He joined the Army and he said he didn’t want me to be waiting around on him, that it wasn’t fair for him to do that to me so yeah”

“Bun I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, I actually understand why he did it you know? And there’s no hard feelings about it.”

When the boys got back laughter filled the apartment as the boys filled her in on what they had been up to during them two months she wasn’t with them and her telling them about her adventures.

It was way past midnight when Sam stretched and looked over at Y/n and Bucky curled up on the couch fast asleep.

“Steve, how long you think she’s been in love with him?” He whispered so he wouldn’t wake the pair up.

“I think just as long as he’s been with her”

And Steve was right.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Ahhhh what’s piece. I would say it is one of my favorites but I think that every time you write.

Chrollo if lancery is what you find confortable, why don’t you give it a try for the rest of the ride?

As alway I love how you give personality to darling. It makes me understand better the Yandere obsession.

AA thank you so much 💖💖 i felt for a story like this, darling being more audacious would work best. there's also something funny to me about the dynamic of a feral darling and chrollo trying to keep them somewhat under wraps, while still enjoying their unhinged nature. he's just radiating amusement. he takes so much with a grain of salt. some yanderes have a zero nonsense policy but not chrollo. some nonsense is allowed (and even encouraged).

LMAOOOO if you were curious about the thought process behind this question that seemingly came out of left field, i was thinking that chrollo wanted to completely throw darling for a loop. hit her with something she wasn't expecting in the slightest. that way, he'd get the most bang for his buck (heheh) because darling would be bound to ramble away, due to how unexpected the question was. so there's that conniving part but also . yeah he's down bad for darling. don't be fooled. he might be quoting the odyssey or whatever like it's what he does for a living, but he's still a man who goes brrr darling hot brrr

currently sweating bullets because this actually didn’t occur to me when i was writing the story... but it’d seem so cool if it was intentional ... so i’m gonna. say that it was. i’ll roll with it. i really love that observation though!!! at the time, i was thinking about eros/storge/agape, so this does actually line up in a way??? i love that... thank you for sharing this thought <333 

IT’S ALWAYS ON THE BACK BURNER OF HIS MIND ... 

personally, i think chrollo is the type to hold a grudge over a long period of time, he might not do anything in the immediate aftermath but the bitterness lingers. it’s likely to come back and bite her months later. hell, he’ll even bring it up years later if he’s so inclined. he waits for the most opportune moment to get his payback tenfold. it’d probably be more of a reaction to something reader does or says, he’ll bring up her exact wording from the interaction and challenge her with it. he likes to provoke with a calm smile. 

and thank you so much for enjoying the story <333

i feel chrollo has the capacity to experience hurt! we see him genuinely emote in the manga/anime when there was nothing for him to gain by acting manipulative. he undoubtedly has super thick skin, but depending on the situation, some of what darling says or does can penetrate that. he wouldn’t be obvious about it though. he’ll either write it off by acting sulky to hide how truly upset he is, or just cover it up completely. you’d have to have a hawk’s eye to realize the extent of it. 

AAA thank you so much for giving it a shot!! chrollo is my favorite character of all time, across everything i’ve ever watched/read, so i’ve made it my personal mission to introduce him to more people. i can never recommend hxh enough to anyone who might be the slightest bit interested. there’s literally nothing like it. i would give anything to experience the series again for the first time. it’s a masterpiece. 

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

previous < masterpost > next

“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

taglist is closed

[the-last-cuddlebender]

I straight up check your profile daily for the southern raiders analysis you’re working on. 👀👀 where IS IT 😩

bRUH I am so excited to drop this analysis you have no idea (It’s creeping up to 22k+ I am gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyy). The only problem is that my TSR analysis and “Moon theory” are so incredibly hard to structure and articulate. I’m happy you’re so excited for it, though!!! Truly, it’s an honor. I’ll give you a taste of my madness and what’s to come, but be warned: it may be a bit hard to follow because TSR (from how I’ve come to understand it) is about the vagueness of beginnings, endings, and cycles, so there isn’t really a starting point for me to begin with. (So it may seem a tad bit like a ramble in some points that I haven’t fleshed out yet/am summarizing for this ask)

This analysis has me on trails like THIS brilliant nonsense, and I am 1000000000% here for it:

Roku: “The spirit's name is Koh, but he is very dangerous. They call him The Face Stealer.”

Katara: “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”...“That’s him. That’s the monster.”

Lion Turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

Roku: “When you speak with him, you must be very careful to show no emotion at all. Not the slightest expression, or he will steal your face.”

Hama: “Congratulations, Katara. You’re a bloodbender.”

(If Katara had killed Yon Rha, she would be giving up her identity--her face. Not only would she have become a killer, but she would be killing what made her Katara)

Aang: “Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Forgive him--approach him for what he is, not the faces your memories or your heart are having him wear. See him for the pathetic man he is in that moment right in front of you.

Aang’s forgiveness is seeing someone for the sum of their parts. It’s judging them and seeing through into their very soul, just like the Firebending Masters saw through Zuko being the Crown Prince and Aang being the Avatar. That meant nothing to the Masters. What did matter to them was who the boys were right there, right then, right in front of them.

“Why should I hold a grudge against you for something you did in a past life? After all, you’re a different person, now. You’ve come to me with a new face.”

But anyways...

If I can give no other take-away from my analysis and moon theory, it’s that Yin and Yang are not two entities; they are three. I think the fandom’s misunderstanding of it may be why the discourse on TSR (and Aang, Katara, and Zuko) is so black and white (pun intended lol). 

“But Yin and Yang are obviously two things. Don’t you know the symbol?” I hear some people already saying.

Wrong, sir.

It has never been just Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang have never existed as just two things.

They are Yin and Yang and Wu Wei.

(Aunt Wu has her name for a reason, and she has the mark of the wise in her hair for a reason, too...AND she is at odds with Sokka in The Fortuneteller for a reason, too!!!...but that’s for the analysis😉)

Balance isn’t good triumphing over evil. Balance is good and evil. Balance is standing on the flow between two opposites--it’s the compliment that connects them. (The koi fish live in an oasis for a reason.)

I’ll explain what Wu Wei is later in the full analysis (like many things in here), but here’s some of my evidences and proofs for the “Yin Yang trio”:

The Tibetan “Wheel of Dharma”

(I’ll also explain the Wheel and Dharma and etc. later because it has everything to do with Koh and the moon) Long story short, the wheel and its spokes are representative of the 8 steps to enlightenment and the cycle of rebirth. 

Look at the hub of the wheel. It’s a swirl made of 3 parts.

It is also a white lotus

Here’s the colored version of the wheel (as an alter):

Recognize the colors?

BLUE, WHITE (or gold, depending), & RED

These are the “THREE TREASURES” OR JEWELS.

They symbolize DHARMA, BUDDHA, & SANGHA respectively. 

KATARA, AANG, & ZUKO

water, air, & fire

T H R E E

Bato: “Ice dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.

Bato: “The spirits of water bear witness to these marks...”

Why does Bato say spirit(s) plural? The Ocean and the Moon are only two spirits. The Ocean can’t be two things. Right?

WRONG

Yue: “The legends say the Moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

The Moon--singular. The Tides--plural (push and pull)

Lion Turtle: “In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within our senses.”

The moon pushing and pulling the tide is the moon bending the energy of its world. 

Katara finding balance between “being too weak to do it” or “strong enough not to” is her bending the energy within herself.

It’s two solutions written as a question but said as a statement.

Yue: “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves”

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ABOUT AANG AND ZUKO LEARNING FROM KATARA. Katara had already learned from Aang and Zuko all leading up to TSR. That was her studying. TSR was her test.

TSR is Zuko’s and Aang’s studying. Sozin’s Comet is their test.

Bato: “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same mark your father earned. For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us. And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Aang - Wise (”you’re pretty wise for a kid”)

Katara - Brave (the same mark her mother earned)

Zuko - Trusted (”I was the first person to trust you”)

Sokka - Bato ("I am to have no part in this--you pass or fail on your own.”)

Yin and Yang are nothing without their dance. The Avatar and the Firelord mean nothing if they don’t have a world to rebuild.

The valley means nothing if there isn’t anyone to live in it.

Fighting is useless if there isn’t someone to fight for, otherwise it is “selfish and stupid”

Katara had to have a reason to return from Yon Rha. She needed to have Aang waiting for her. If she didn’t have a reason to stay, then she wouldn’t have a reason to go.

To have a reason to sleep, a person has to have a reason to wake up.

Katara: “Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone; that it's all his responsibility.”

Hakoda: “Maybe that's his way of being brave.”

(Bato: “For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.”)

Katara: “It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?!”

(It was, in fact, not easy for Aang to ‘do nothing’)

Katara: “I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry...and hurt.”

Hakoda: “I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone, and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache.”

(AND YUE IS ONE OF THE ONES TO SAVE AANG IN THE OCEAN FOR A REASON)

Thinking and missing: a matter of mind (who) and heart (want). 

Iroh: “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Sokka: “We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most.”

Mai: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

BUT YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MOON FOR A HOT SECOND???

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE MOON

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT 2 MOONS

OH

OH REALLY???

OH REALLY, ZUKO

A FEW HOURS YOU SAY?

THEN TELL ME, ZUKO

WHY IS THE SUN GOING UP

WHEN IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT A FEW HOURS LATER

AND KATARA IS SLEEPING SO YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE YOU RISE WITH THE SUN OTHERWISE SHE’D BE WIDE AWAKE DURING THE FULL MOON THAT SHE USES TO BLOODBEND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES LATER

THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS A HARVEST MOON

WHICH IS THE LAST FULL MOON OF THE SUMMER 

(and looks off color when it rises/falls because of the angle of the rise/fall in the atmosphere...it’s normal once overhead)

AND SYMOLIZES HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF

“We’re going to find the MAN who took my mother from me.”

“That’s him. That’s the MONSTER.”

8 spokes on the wheel

Katara was 8 when Kya was killed

8 steps to enlightenment (the “Eightfold Path”)

8 phases of the moon

8 faces of Koh

“One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me! Be it 8 or 9 hundred years ago” (but time is an illusion, so hundreds mean nothing)

THE OTHER TWO MOONS THAT ARE CONSUMING MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT???:

1.) The WOLF MOON--the first full moon of the new year (a love between the wolf and the moon in the harshest winters...connection is kindof obvious lmao)

2.) THE THUNDER MOON

The Thunder Moon is the full moon of July. It is also known as the Buck Moon--for when young buck regrow their antlers.

Yue: “My hair turned white.”

Zuko: *cuts and re-grows his hair*

Aang: “I have hair?”

The Thunder Moon--the full moon of July--is also the beginning of a certain Buddhist holiday.

DHARMA DAY

WHICH CELEBRATES THE BEGINING OF BUDDHISM AND THE FIRST OF THE 8 STEPS (the first spoke of the Dharma Wheel) TOWARDS ENLIGHTENMENT

AVATAR IS ALL ABOUT CYCLES

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ALL ABOUT BREAKING THEM

I haven’t even touched Jung, Koh, Hinduism, and Buddhism yet

or the fact that Katara and Kya are the only characters in the entire series to wear moons on their clothing and that, together, they form an actual lunar phenomenon

or why the spirit oasis isn’t a complete circle

or the fact that this thing that Aang is told to chase is just like Whaletail Island:

or how important the Great Divide and the Solstice are

AND I’M JUST GETTING STARTED

BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS--RIGHT DOWN TO THE SOUND DESIGN--IS ABSOLUTELY MONUMENTAL IN UNDERSTANDING THE SHOW, ITS MESSAGE, ENERGYBENDING, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

TLDR: Idk how the heck I’m going to arrange or articulate this analysis because it is WILD. Be warned: There is literally no exact beginning and ending to this analysis because the whole point of Yin and Yang is that is has no beginning or ending (...kindof...), so you’ll have to bear with me once I’m done editing it into something that’s somewhat coherent.

These are just SOME of the things I’ve been able to answer with my moon theory and analysis of The Southern Raiders as it currently stands:

Why “letting go” isn’t really letting go (as we understand it...see: Aang’s confrontation with Koh)

Why Lake Laogai and the Spirit World are symbolically the same thing.

Zuko’s advice to the bullfrog is actually a summary of the show, energybending, the origin of bending, and the definition of Aang’s “forgiveness” I stg

Why “Sokka’s instincts” are the reason Katara yells at Sokka

Believe it or not, every time Katara mentions her mother, it is at specific times for specific reasons.

^^^same thing for the moon, lack of moon, moon positioning, etc.

Katara’s mother’s necklace is more important than we realize.

Who the faces of Koh are and WHY they are there.

The true meaning of Jet’s sacrifice.

Why Jet’s episode about the dam explains the entirety of TSR as it pertains to Katara (all the way down to the little girl who runs to get her doll after the dam breaks)

Why Katara actually DID forgive Yon Rha, and the fact that she doesn’t even know it is proof that she did

^^^^^Aang’s definition of forgiveness is completely misunderstood by the fandom, and the way he “forgives” is sososo much deeper than “moving on”, and it is DEFINATELY by no means “doing  nothing” or “excusing” past actions.

The importance of lightning, Zuko, Aang, and Katara.

The absolutely monumental and not nearly talked about importance of Jeong-Jeong like holy crap.

How Katara and Azula are just as much of a Yin and Yang as Zuko and Aang but not in the way we think they are

Why Koh has the Blue Spirit’s face

Why Koh DOESN’T have the Painted Lady’s face.

Who Ni-Ni from Katara’s campfire story in The Puppetmaster is 

How and why Iroh was able to learn firebending from the Masters even though he didn’t have a partner. 

How/Why Azula had her breakdown and why she saw her mother in the mirror

Why “Leaves from the Vine” and “Four Seasons” are the same song, explain Azula’s downfall, and explain the Yin and Yang of TSR.

Why Katara and Sokka are so often mistaken for parental figures.

Why Aang’s flashbacks to the Air Nomads are so important in understanding TSR.

Why Toph and Suki disappear after the campfire in TSR.

How Hakoda, Gyatso, and Kya are all connected.

Why it is so dang important that Azula shows up in the beginning of TSR.

The importance of the Spirit Oasis.

Energybending, healing with waterbending, Aang’s trauma, and Zuko’s scar.

Why Zuko gives Katara the exact opposite advise in TSR that he gave her in the catacombs. 

How everything could be predicted and read by the moon.

WHY YIN AND YANG ARE THREE THINGS AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THREE THINGS.

HOW ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THIS TIES BACK TO THE MOON AND BUDDHIST BELIEFS--AND YEAH THE MOON AND BUDDHISM AND HINDUISM ARE MORE CONNECTED IN ATLA THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

AND HOW IT LEADS INTO OUR MODERN UNDERSTANDING OF THE SELF--BECAUSE JUNG TOOK GREAT INFLUENCE IN HIS DEVELOPING THEORY OF THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS FROM THE HINDU/BUDDHIST RELIGIONS 

^^^^AND ALSO THE THEORY OF THE SHADOW AND THE PERSONA 

The ocean is a deep, dark, unknown place with a lot of hidden monsters (like Yon Rah). Katara needed a light to find her monster, but she also needed somewhere she could breathe when she came back up for air.

If she didn’t have both Zuko and Aang, Katara would have drowned. 

I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a thesis, and what I’ve said and listed here isn’t even all that I have.

btw This all does line up on the traditional Yin Yang symbol we know and see in the show, but I don’t have enough space here for that lmao. That’ll be in the analysis

I hope you enjoyed this little taste, my friend, because I need to sit down for a hot second before my brain leaks out of my ears. Sorry for the ramble. I promise the analysis isn’t like this lol. This is just me trying to summarize as best as I can. 

***Disclaimer: My points are always subject to change since I am still researching. These are the facts as I’ve found and applied them to the evidences I’ve noted from in the show. I’m always open for friendly discussion or any directions to better sources on Buddhism/Tao/Jung!***

[m3kuroshirt]

House of Assassins Part Four

links to Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Word count: 1944

warnings: none

The kitchen was warm and inviting, especially so cold and late (early?). Ichigo seated himself at the table, and Grimmjow busied himself with the kettle. As he waited, Ichigo could feel tiredness seeping into his bones, but he knew that if he went home all he would do was stare up at the darkened ceiling, a restlessness running rampant in his mind.

Finally, Grimmjow sat himself down with two mugs of tea. He slid one to Ichigo, and took a sip from the other. “So,” he started. Ichigo bit the inside of his lip as he wrapped both hands around the warm mug. “What’s on your mind? The stuff you can talk about, anyway.” His voice was gruff and tired, but there was no impatience in it. Ichigo took a sip of his tea. It burned the tongue a little, and washed a path of heat all the way down to his gut.

“…I…does it sound stupid if I say ‘I don’t know’?” he mumbled, running his thumb over the smooth ceramic of the mug. Grimmjow shrugged. He ran a hand through his bright blue hair.

“I don’t think so.”

Ichigo gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” He sighed and leaned on the table with his elbows. “I guess…I’m just conflicted. The guy I was talking to…he’s an old family friend. Or rather, an ex-family-friend. But I’m going to be helping him out for a bit. Just…have some mixed emotions about it, I guess,” Ichigo admitted. He took another sip of tea.

“Fair enough. You seem pretty close to your family, it would be weird to work with someone they don’t like,” Grimmjow replied. Ichigo shrugged.

“I guess. We all have varying degrees of…dislike…for him. Rukia doesn’t really mind him, but then her brother works closely with him. And Orihime couldn’t hold a grudge against anyone, even if they tried to kill her.” Ichigo stretched his arms over his head. Grimmjow frowned.

“Hold on…wouldn’t Rukia’s brother also be your brother?” he asked, head tilted to the side and an adorable confused frown on his face.

“Hmm? No. He adopted her. So like, he married her older sister, right? But Rukia and her sister were separated in the foster system early on and never reunited. So Rukia grew up with us instead. But apparently her sister was trying to find her. She married Byakuya and died before she could find Rukia, but Byakuya kept looking. And when he found her, he offered her to be a part of his family. She only agreed as long as he let her stay with us, though.” Ichigo yawned as he finished talking. He rubbed his temples and drank the rest of his tea. “We’re pretty mis-matched for a family.”

“Gotcha.” Grimmjow finished his tea as well, then picked up the mugs to refill them. “So, what did that guy do then? Is that something you can talk about?”

Ichigo stretched his neck from side to side, and definitely snuck a glance at Grimmjow’s backside. He only answered when the other man set both their mugs back on the table. “I…guess, a little. Basically, he tried to get me to work for him. Without really disclosing all the details of the job or how dangerous it was. Kisuke was pissed when he found out.” He rolled his shoulders. “Really, I was fifteen and stupid and eager to make a buck. I took a job, because I figured Kisuke was overreacting, I figured I was fine. Shunsui didn’t do much for teaching me, he figured I should be able to do most of it because I was learning with Kisuke, and I was too naïve to actually realize that I didn’t know everything. I ended up in a coma in the hospital for four months.”

“Fuck. That’s awful,” Grimmjow murmured as Ichigo paused to drink some more. Ichigo nodded.

“Yeah…I wasn’t there when Kisuke confronted him, of course, but I heard he almost killed him.” He ran a hand through his orange hair and scratched his scalp a little. “And that pretty much ended all our contact with Shunsui up until recently.”

Grimmjow leveled him with a look. “And you think it’s a good idea now to do work for him? What changed?”

Ichigo sighed. “It’s not so much that it’s a ‘good idea’, as it is necessary. I’m older now, I’ve got the skillset and the proper teaching. And I’m the only one he can ask to help. It’s not so much for him as it is for Aunty Retsu, anyway.” Ichigo made sure to use her casual name rather than ‘Unohana’. Grimmjow seemed like a nice guy, but he could never be certain what would come up in conversations others had, and he really, really didn’t need his target getting any wind of the job.

“She his wife?”

Ichigo was in the middle of drinking his tea when Grimmjow dropped that question. He coughed and spluttered a laugh. “Oh fuck no!” he gasped, setting his mug on the table. “I mean, she’d keep him in fucking line if she was, but no…no, ew, that would…ugh. No. She’s another friend of Kisuke’s.”

“Hm.” Grimmjow sipped his tea again. Ichigo propped his face up with his palm, leaning more onto the table. He kept his eyes glued to the amber liquid in his cup, since Grimmjow’s piercing gaze felt as though the other man could see every secret if he kept looking in his eyes. “This job is dangerous then?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo didn’t dare lie about that part. Besides, it’s not like his was the only job in the world with risks.

“…be safe, then…” The words were quiet, barely there. But Ichigo heard them. He looked up and met the other’s serious stare.

Ichigo smirked. “Aw, worried about me?”

“Of course I am, idiot. You’re the first friend I’ve made here. Actually, first one I’ve made in years,” Grimmjow muttered into his cup as he turned his face away. He took a long sip, cheeks burning pink.

Friend. The word tugged at Ichigo’s heart, unleashing a barrel of mixed emotions. On the one hand, a warm feeling, recognition that Grimmjow thought of him as more than just ‘a neighbour’, the comfort of having someone he could go to and hang out with outside the little family he’d found himself. On the other, a brief but sharp sting, the worry that this might be all there ever is, that maybe ‘friend’ is all that Grimmjow would ever be willing to associate with him. Ichigo shoved those worries down. I should be grateful he thinks of me as a friend. Especially when I’m keeping so many secrets from him, and he knows I am. He closed his eyes and let the warm scent of the tea seep into his body, surrounding him and bringing him comfort. “Friends, huh?” he murmured. “Friends are good.” It was more to convince himself than anything, but Grimmjow overheard.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess? Like I said, haven’t had many,” he replied in a nonchalant voice. Ichigo gave a non-committal hum.

“They are. Especially nice when it’s someone outside your family, someone you can talk to,” he replied, opening his eyes. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, though, and he had to blink a few times before his eyes would focus on the man in front of him.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. “You’re looking pretty played out…are you sure you’re good to go home?”

“Hmm? It’s right next door,” Ichigo mumbled, moving to stand. He managed to get upright, but then swayed and stumbled back onto the chair. “Oh damn. More tired’n’I thought.” Grimmjow’s expression morphed from amusement to concern.

“Shit. Don’t try and walk home, ok? You can crash here on the couch if you want, alright?” He stood up and helped Ichigo stand again. “I’ll help you there. Come on.” Ichigo steadied himself on Grimmjow as they walked into the living room. The couch looked incredibly inviting and soft.

Laying on the couch was like sinking into a deep dark warmth. He thought he heard a distant yelp and someone saying ‘wait let go’, but that had to be someone else’s problem. He was tired, too tired to do much of anything let alone help. The inky darkness surrounded him, caressed him, and enveloped him in a gentle warmth and firm embrace. Ichigo gladly let it carry him off to sleep.

***

Grimmjow helped Ichigo to the couch. It wasn’t overly big, and didn’t really look all that comfortable, compared to a bed, but it would do. He eased his friend onto the cushions, then made to move away. But the arms that had been using him as a stabilizer tightened around him and dragged him down. Grimmjow yelped.

“Wait! Let go!” he hissed, but Ichigo didn’t seem to hear him. Grimmjow hesitated to be any louder, lest he wake Nel. Not that she would be angry. But he would never live down the teasing if she saw him like this with their neighbour, especially since she knew all about his crush. His only hope was to extract himself carefully…

…he hadn’t counted on Ichigo being quite so strong. Like, he knew the other man could lift his fair share, had seen him carry things most people would need a partner to handle, but overpowering Grimmjow and trapping him in a hug? In his sleep, of all things? Grimmjow grumbled under his breath as all his attempts to wriggle away were thwarted by a completely oblivious, sleeping, handsome idiot. With all his efforts proving futile, Grimmjow gave in and opted to simply lie there, held firmly on top of Ichigo. He couldn’t see the other man’s face, as his own face was turned to the back of the couch, head resting on Ichigo’s chest, listening to his rhythmic breathing and the gentle thumping of his heart. Their legs were entangled, and Grimmjow tried not to dwell too much on that fact, his face burning. He clenched and unclenched his hands before softly, hesitantly, moving them upward, behind Ichigo, wrapping around his torso slightly.

Why did I call him a ‘friend’? This isn’t how friends react, Grimmjow thought to himself. He was wide awake, and with no reprieve in sight, his mind decided to wander down what had become now an all-too-familiar path over the past couple of months. Dammit. Why can’t I just make the words come out right?

Ichigo’s arms tightened around him briefly, then relaxed slightly, but not enough to let Grimmjow actually worm his way out. Are you even sure he likes you, though? The thought crept into his mind unbidden, for what had to be the millionth time that week. Are you sure Jinta wasn’t lying? Are you sure anyone at all would like you?

Grimmjow grit his teeth and unconsciously tightened his grip on the other man. He only realized how tense he was when he heard a sleepy “…’s tight,” mumbled above him. He relaxed instantly, fear catching in his heart, convinced Ichigo would wake up that instant, throw him off of him, call him a freak, and storm out of the house. He waited for his inevitable fate…one…two…three…

…and nothing happened. There was a soft sigh, and Ichigo’s breathing resumed its steady rate. He hadn’t been fully awake, then. Grimmjow couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. He sighed and resigned himself to being stuck there for now. He might as well try and get some rest if he was going to have to face the rude awakening of the morning. So he closed his eyes and drifted off.

[svnflowervol666]

that dating headcanon was everything🥺 could u do an nsfw one??? l

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: SFW headcanons can be read here. Hope you enjoy, love bug!! I could go on for hours about this, but I tried to keep my rambling to a minimum. Requests are still open. Take care and tpwk.

First and foremost, Harry radiates the most soft dom energy I have ever seen in a human

I think he enjoys a good power dynmanic and kink, but at the end of the day sex to him is about having fun and doing what feels good

“Team work makes the dream work,” is something I’m almost positive his corny ass would blurt out one night post coitus when you’re both coming down from your highs

I don’t even mean this in a nsfw way (but also I do), but I genuinely believe Harry is one of those boyfriends who likes to have his hands on you as much as it is physically possible

A hand on the small of your back when you’re in public, your bare leg hiked over his while you’re watching tv, his hand resting on your knee while he drives

He’s all about intimacy, even if it isn’t sexual in nature

With this being said, it definitely does turn sexual in nature more often than not

When you’re cuddled up on the sofa watching a shitty horror film and you accidentally grind yourself against him when you reach over for your mug and then you feel him growing hard against your backside, you know you’ve got approximately 7 minutes before the movie is long forgotten and Harry’s got you spread out on the cushions

He’s much more of a giver than he is a receiver 

(But let’s be honest he certainly doesn’t mind kicking back and letting you do all of the work from time to time)

He gets off knowing he’s the one getting YOU off

It’s almost addictive to him

So, clearly, he loves going down on you

One too many times have you been stirred from your sleep to feel Harry’s stubble grazing your stomach and moving down towards your navel and you know exactly what he wants

But he won’t give it all to you that easily

He teases you until you’re squirming and practically bucking your hips up into his lips, anything to feel more friction against the heat that Harry has created

Tiny, featherlight kisses on the insides of your thighs and around your core

Everywhere but where you need him the most

He thinks it makes you taste even sweeter knowing how badly you want his tongue on you

He loves eating you until your thighs are trembling and he has to force them to stay open by gripping them so harshly that you end up with ring marks pressed into your skin

He takes care of you, meaning he refuses to stop until he makes you cum

Not in an aggressive way, just that he doesn’t see the point in having sex if the two of you aren’t having equally as much fun, ya know?

As far as actual sex goes, Harry is a powerhouse

He’s got more stamina out of anyone you’ve ever met, and it sometimes has you wondering if he’s even human sometimes

He can go for quite literally hours without letting up even a tiny bit, his hips drilling into you until you’ve got bruises and are sore the next morning

Only to add to how much of a little shit we all know Harry is, watching you limp around his house the next morning is one of the most satisfying and entertaining things to him

I think he is the king of trying out new positions and working out what feels right and what doesn’t, but he’ll always prefer some good old fashioned missionary over any kinky, yoga sex position

It’s more intimate and personal to him, being able to see how pleasure washes over your face as he drives himself further and further into you

How your bodies are as close together as they can possibly be

It���s simple, but when you love someone, it’s enough 

However, I get the sense that Harry is totally down to experiment in the bedroom

As I said earlier, I am certain that Harry enjoys indulging in some of his kinks every now and then

First and foremost, this man has a BREEDING KINK 

He loves filling you up with his cum and watching it overflow and seep out of you and then gathering the excess on his fingers and stuffing it back inside of you

It is somewhat of a territorial thing, marking you as his and his only

But it’s also a trust thing, that you both love each other enough to indulge in the most primitive of acts, and Harry is all about that

I’m not going to go off on a tangent about how Harry eventually gets off on the idea of breeding you to actually get you pregnant, but it’s true so it must be at least mentioned in this post

Something about seeing you round and glowing with his baby, one that you created together, makes him feel some type of way 

If it’s possible, he’s even hornier when you’re pregnant 

He loves leaning against the headboard and having you ride him with your belly in between the two of you

ANYWAYS 

Apart from the vanilla shenanigans and the massive breeding kink, I also totally see Harry as the type to have an entire marketplace of toys hidden in a trunk underneath his bed or in his closet

Whether it’s expensive leather restraints that he loves to tie you up with or an array of different types of vibrators that he loves to turn on and watch you get off without his hand, he’s got just about one of everything so he’s always prepared

There are also times when he loves to let you take control as well

Sometimes it’s when he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and all he wants to do is let someone else take care of things for once or simply if he’s just in the mood to be submissive, the man truly has the range

But he will always reign as a soft dom

 When he’s on tour, he loves calling you to help him get off

He’ll always do the same in return for you, but he misses your presence so much while he’s away that taking care of himself alone isn’t nearly the same

Which is why you sometimes receive texts or calls at odd hours of the night from Harry asking you to talk to him while he strokes his cock

He loves watching you get off as well, so if the timing lines up, he’s prone to video chatting you so that you can both watch each other while you work your way over the edge

Not to be a crackhead, but Harry definitely bought of those Clone-A-Willy’s for you to use while he’s away

I wouldn’t say Harry’s so much into the act of risky, public sex as much as he really is just that horny and utilizes every advantage he can to get you both off, even if it means everyone knows exactly what you two were doing when you both come out of the same room with ruffled hair and are breathing heavy like you just ran a marathon

After a high energy show, when his veins are pumping with adrenaline and he swears performing makes him feel higher than any drug, he’ll beeline to the room where you were waiting for him in and have his way with you right there on the couch (or the closet, or the bathroom, or the back of his bus if he’s using one)

When he comes home from the studio to see you cooking in only one of his ratty t-shirts and your underwear, he sees no problem in hoisting you up on the cold, marble countertop and letting his dinner burn in the name of a good shag

I also think Harry is an angry sex type of guy as well

The last thing he wants is to hold grudges over you, so if you’re arguing and only going in circles and Harry is well aware you both will be over whatever it was that you were mad about in the morning, said argument usually ends abruptly when Harry backs you up against the wall and smashes his lips against yours

His thrusts are even more intense and sharp and you can see the slight snarl in his lip as he grips the headboard harshly and properly makes a mess of you

Harry really is an every-occasion guy when it comes to sex and that is a given, but I also think he leans on sex when he’s sad or upset?

Like if he’s just having a day where everything is getting under his skin and he feels small, he comes to you with those lust blown, yet dull-looking eyes that let you know he really just needs you right now

You let him take what he needs, because he does more for you than you could ever explain with words and if what he needs is a little bit of sex to make everything feel okay, even if it’s only temporary relief, it’s the least you feel like you can do

To feel his hips roll lazily into yours and to feel his warm breath trailing all over your face and maybe the occasional tear fall from his cheek that you brush away with your thumb as you cradle his face

Times like these often resort in cockwarming, where Harry just needs to feel you and know that you’re there and you’re not going anywhere

He tries not to let things get to him and often regrets the ways he choses to cope with how he sometimes thinks he’ll never catch a break, but he always talks when he’s ready, so nothing ever goes unmentioned

Plus, he knows he’d do the same thing for you in a heart beat

Harry is the softest lover and those are just the facts!

[libsterslobsters]

Friends

Summary: Even after the battle with Thanos, The Winter Soldier's reputation still proceeds him (much to the chagrin of Bucky Barnes), which has a habit of making things more complicated than they need to be. That, on to of the fact that there’s certain question he and the Reader still haven't brought up (most importantly, why did she wait those five years he was gone), equals trouble, and poor Sam doesn't know what hit him.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader (Reader can see bits of the future in visions as well as understand every language)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, insecure Bucky, Sam doesn't deserve any of this, IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T INTERACT!!!

‐------------------------------------------

 The day starts off normally enough. He and Sam are in the training room sparring while she practices her skills with the throwing knives on the opposite side. Bucky’s so involved with his task (Sam may not be enhanced per se, but dammit, he can move fast) that he doesn’t notice that he’s being watched until the sound of someone clearing their throat reaches his ears. On instinct, his head turns towards the noise and that’s when he sees the intruder. A man with an eye patch who looks vaguely familiar.

 “Wilson, Barnes, New Girl-” Sam’s head snaps up and as her final knife sticks in the wall, she studies the man in the eye patch as well. “-get your asses up to the situation room. Meeting in five.” With no further explanation for his presence, the man slips out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

 “Who the hell was that?” He says it more to himself than to the others, but Sam still shoots him a questioning look as they start in the direction of the elevator.

 “You mean you don’t know?” He almost shoots back that he wouldn’t be asking if he did, now would he, but before he can, she falls into step next to him, taking his hand.

 “That’s Nick Fury, Buck. Director of SHIELD back before it went up in flames.”

 “Oh, shit.” Well that certainly explains the vague recollection. Now that he knows who the man is, the whole picture is coming into focus. He remembers him. “I tried to kill him once.”

 Sam doesn’t bother to hide his snicker as they climb into the elevator and it begins to ascend.

 “It was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s gotten over it.” Despite her attempt at reassuring him, Bucky’s fairly certain Nick Fury is the type to hold a grudge.

 That theory is confirmed as soon as they step foot in the situation room and he’s instructed to take a seat against the back wall while the others are offered chairs in front of Fury’s desk. It’s also not lost on him that, no matter how far the former director paces, he always keeps Bucky in his eyeline. So much for bygones being bygones.

 “The president is going on a diplomatic mission and his head of security has requested that we lend him a protection detail.”

 “What’s the location?” Sam’s question is met with a frown.

 “That’s on a need-to-know basis. Everyone who’s involved will find out once you’re in the air.”

 “Still-” Sam tries again. “-we’re not bodyguards for hire. No world leader, no matter what country he’s from, warrants a protection unit consisting of three Avengers.”

 That lone good eye settles on Bucky once more, and he can guess what’s coming next.

 “Not three Avengers. Just two. Falcon and Soothsayer. The Winter Soldier is not required on this particular mission.”

 “Why?” This time, she’s the one speaking up.

 “Why what?”

 “Why Sam and me, not Bucky? Usually Falcon and Winter Soldier are the go-to task force.” He really wishes she hadn’t asked that. There’s no way the answer will make any of them happy.

 “Apart from the fact that you can see the future and speak every language flawlessly upon hearing it as well as having super soldier capabilities-” Here it comes. “-the president’s head of security felt that Sergeant Barnes is too volatile to act as an asset in this instance.”

 “Bullshit. Barnes is a seasoned combat veteran who’s received special training that allows him to operate seamlessly under any set of circumstances. I’m more likely to lose my shit than he is.” If only he were sitting closer, he could take her hand, try to silently communicate that he’s okay, this is just part of having his particular past, she doesn’t have to go to war for him.

 Fury crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I don’t know how much plainer I can make it. Your boyfriend’s services are not required. End of story.”

 “And if I choose not to accept this mission?” Sam shoots him a look that clearly says, “Is she really arguing with Nick Fury?” Bucky’s torn between being astounded himself and trying not to laugh at how shocked Fury looks.

 “If you chose to disobey direct orders, then you are no longer an Avenger.” He can sense where this is going to go, so before she has a chance to straight up quit, he stands.

 “Will that be all, Director Fury?” That definitely just put him on the shit list, or at least further down it.

 “That will be all. You’re dismissed.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She’s seething the whole drive home, and it shows. While usually Barnes is the one to drive (her guess is it’s a throwback to his youth when the gentlemanly thing to do was for the man to drive, one that he hasn’t even realized he’s doing), it’s rush hour, and he’s still getting used to modern New York traffic, so this time she’s behind the wheel. Normal highway offenses that wouldn’t ruffle her feathers are met with gritted teeth, and situations that would make her frustrated on a good day result in curses and the middle finger. And why not? Since the world at large is showing it’s ass, she’ll join in and show hers too.

 By the time they arrived home, her stormy mood has turned into a varitable hurricane, and she slams the apartment door instead of closing it.

 “Alright, that’s enough.” Bucky’s voice is measured, but she still bristles. “Doll, what’s gotten into you?”

 Her gut instinct is to reply with something seething, but a look at his face puts that to rest. He’s wearing a slight frown, those eyes wide with concern. At the same time, her anger fizzles and is replaced by a deep sadness.

 “I hate how Fury treated you.” Her voice is brittle, breaking off at the end. As much as she’s sick of  how the world views her Winter Soldier, she knows it affects him tenfold. When the world at large looks at the man standing in her kitchen, gazing at her with so much love and sympathy, they see a monster. Maybe it’s ignorance. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to see past the deeds HYDRA forced him to carry out. But it breaks her heart to know that this gentle, loyal to a fault, brilliant, hilarious hero is still regarded by those in power as some sort of heartless psychopath.

 Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead just collecting her into his arms and holding her close in response. Despite her best efforts to keep the tears at bay, a few leak out, and she knows he can feel them through his worn shirt. It’s ridiculous. He’s the one being scorned and she’s crying. Well, there’s something she can still do about this.

 “I’m not going to accept the mission.” She feels more than hears him sigh.

 “Doll, you know you can’t do that. They’ll kick you out of the Avengers.”

 “I don’t care.” Her words are reckless, she realizes that, but in the moment, she means them. “I won’t be part of a team where you’re not treated like a valuable player. Fuck the Avengers. I don’t want it if-”

 “It’s not about what you want though, is it?” She leans back to see his face, trying to read his meaning. Bucky chuckles wearily. “Sweetheart, you didn’t join the Avengers because you wanted something out of it. You did it because the world is a dangerous place, and we can make it safer. Together.” He gives her side a gentle squeeze. “This team is bigger than one person, and what we do is more important than a few jerks holding grudges.”

 She knows he’s right, but still…

 “It should be you on that protection detail. Not me.” She doesn’t doubt her capabilities, and in some ways she understands why her skllset would be deemed valuable for this mission. However, when it comes down to it, Barnes is the better option. He’s stronger than her, has years of experience, and was trained as a soldier. Protecting a target while remaining unseen is his bread and butter. By comparison, she’s a clumsy second.

 “Maybe.” He nods. “But to be honest, I don’t mind sitting this one out. A mission in close quarters with Sam for days on end, sitting through endless boring meetings?” Bucky feigns a shudder, which makes her snicker. “No thanks. You can have that.”

 “So you’re not disappointed?” She decides to pepper in some humor to lighten the mood. “Not missing out on every boy scout’s dream of meeting the president?”

 He narrows his eyes at her, but the twitch of his lips gives it away. “Did you just call me a boy scout?”

 Holding his gaze, she nods solumnly. “If the shoe fits.”

 They stay like that for a few moments, eyes locked, waiting to see which one will crack first. Finally, with a shrug, he tells her, “I don’t even know who the president is nowadays-” and she gives into the giggles.

 “Yeah, yeah. You’d better go pack your bags, solnyshka. Wheels are up in two hours.”

 Still chuckling softly, she squeezes his hand. “Love you, Buck.”

 “Love you too, Doll.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 On the first full day he’s alone, Bucky keeps to his usual schedule. His alarm goes off at five thirty, and after realizing that the other side of the bed is cold (which jogs his memory), he gets up and bleerily makes his way to the kitchen. Normally the time spent waiting for the coffee to perk would be spent making jokes about the inevitable knots and tangles both of them would be sporting after a night of deep sleep, but instead, it’d dead silent, and he reads the news instead of joking around with his girl.

 Their apartment isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but without her there to make the familiar noises of getting ready for the day ahead, it feels huge and empty. Eerily so. Shaking his head, Bucky finishes dressing and grabs his keys. There’s no real point in going to the Avengers complex since Sam won’t be there, but it feels wrong somehow to hang around his home without her here.

 Rhodey doesn’t bother to hide his surprise when he catches sight of him, but doesn’t say anything other than to tell him to check his inbox for a requisition form which should cover the cost of new ammo. As it turns out, when you have absolutely nothing else to concentrate on other than the task at hand, doing paperwork goes much faster. By twelve o’clock, Bucky’s finished all three field reports that are due and filled out a good month’s worth of backlogged forms. So, after lunch (a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because she’s not around to meet up with at a diner for a quick bite before they both have to return to work), he heads to the training room.

 It takes all of two hours for him to thoroughly exhaust every workout option, and no one is available to spar with him. Unfortunately, he’s still left with two more hours to fill before he can justify leaving, so he does something he’s never done before: cleans his desk. Technically, it’s only been two months since he started the “day job” part of being an Avenger, but my god. You’d think it had been two years since this desk saw the business end of a duster. He draws out the task until the clock reads five in the afternoon and then, a trash bag full of odd papers and food wrappers in hand, heads out to the parking lot.

 Dinner is a silent affair. If she were here, he’d put his phone on silent while they worked together, preparing the evening meal, but tonight he watches Youtube video after Youtube video in an attempt to keep himself occupied. Finally, at nine o’clock, he crawls into bed. He’s  nowhere near asleep when, an hour and a half later, his phone dings with a text. It’s her.

 “Hey, you. Hope you didn’t miss me too much today.” A smile spreads over his face as he reads the teasing message, and he rapidly types back.

 “Nope. Barely realized you were gone.”

 “Good, ‘cause I definitely don’t miss you stealing the covers.” He snickers.

 “Yeah, and I had so much hot water for my shower this morning I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

 There’s a short pause, then-

 “Sorry. Got distracted picturing you in the shower.” She’s perfect. She really is.

 “Don’t worry about it. I was busy thinking about you in bed next to me.”

 “Dammit, Barnes. Here I was trying to be sexy, and you said something sweet.”

 They text back and forth for a few more minutes, during which she tells him that she can’t call because the hotel room is possibly bugged, and then finally, after exchanging “I love you’s” say goodnight.

 The second day is a little different. For the first time since his time in the Army, Bucky ignores his alarm. His body wakes him up at seven a.m., and instead of making his own coffee, he stops at the gas station around the corner to pick up a cup. He’s already made up his mind that he’s not going into work today (he’s caught up for the next two weeks at least), so instead, he just drives. Explores the open roads with no map and nowhere to be. Going where the highway takes him. That is, until he gets lost.

 He has a GPS on his phone (wonders of modern technology), but on a whim, he decides to check the map in his glove compartment. If he started in Brooklyn, and the last town was… yeah, he’s in New Jersey. Well, that was a fun road trip. Time to head back home.

 It’s a grand total of five hours later when he arrives back at his apartment, which means he still has nineish hours to kill before he can go to sleep. Alright, he needs another task, fast. As he makes himself a sandwich for lunch, he catches sight of the broom and dustpan. Cleaning. He can clean the apartment.

 Dusting, vaccuuming, mopping, doing dishes, and washing all of the clothes that, between him and his fiancee, they own, takes five hours. It would’ve been less, but he went over things three times to kill more time. There’s no real reason to cook, it’s just him, but because he’s trying to keep himself occupied, he attempts to make a quiche. Three dozen eggs later, he thinks he’s figured it out.

 The goodnight text comes at nine o’clock, but it’s short. “Hey. Can’t talk. Target is still active.” (he assumes she means the president). “Just wanted to check in. Love you.”

 He types a quick reply, then rolls over and starts to count ceiling tiles in an attempt to wear himself out.

 On the third day, Bucky doesn’t get out of bed until ten a.m. Not because he’s sleeping. Oh, no. Because there’s nothing else to do except scroll through news articles and watch videos of dogs getting scared by their own hiccups. He finally convinces himself to get up, but after much consideration, decides against putting on pants. It’s just him. There’s no one else around. Come to think of it, he might as well drink his coffee straight out of the pot. Again, no one else around. He draws the line at eating cereal straight out of the box, but that’s mostly because it requires milk.

 After eating, he settles in on the sofa and decides to take advantage of the seemingly endless supply of movies and television shows readily available at the click of a button. Leave It To Beaver attracts his attention because it’s in black and white. Made in the late 1950s. Okay, he’ll give it a go.

 Three seasons later, his phone dings and he realizes that it’s seven p.m. So that’s what people mean by “binge watching.” It’s a text (big shocker), but this time, he almost drops his phone as he reads. “The mission’s over. We’re heading out tonight. We should touch down tomorrow morning at seven a.m.”  Yes!

 “Alright. I’ll be there.” That’s not enough. “Looking forward to having you back, Doll.”

 It’s quiet for a few minutes, then-

 “So you’re not missing the bachelor life?”

 He snorts. Hell no. “I think 100 years of bachelorhood is enough.”

 That night, for the first time since she left, he sleeps well.

 When his alarm goes off, Bucky’s already been up for half an hour, changing the sheets on the bed, checking to makes sure he put all of the laundry away in the right drawers, and making a note of any foodstuffs they’re out of.  He takes more time showering and shaving than usual along with paying far more attention to which shirt he puts on. Part of him feels a little ridiculous, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by excitement. His girl’s coming home today! Before he climbs in his car, he brews a pot of her favorite tea and pours it into a thermos, adding sugar and milk to her specifications. Goodness knows she’s probably had  enough of doing without over the past four mornings.

 He’s expecting the quinjet to arrive a little later than predicted. He’s even expecting the other agents to disembark first. What he’s not expecting is, when he finally sees her, for her to be laughing at something Sam has said. If anything, he was expecting his partner to have gotten on her nerves. This is good. The three of them have had to work together a few times in the past months since the blip was undone. It’s good that they’re getting along. Bucky nods to himself. It’s healthy really, especially since they work in high-stress situations.

 As soon as he steps out of his car, he can make out their conversation.  

 “I can’t believe you made me listen to Elton John!” Sam’s shaking his head, but he’s smiling.

 She elbows him. “Hey, you ended up singing along, didn’t you? And you have to admit, the song’s catchy.”

 “Not when you sing it, it’s not. You have to be the most tone-deaf person on the face of this planet.”

 Whoa! Where the hell does Sam get off saying that to her? It’s true, but still. He’s about to intervene, tell him to go to hell, but she just shrugs.

 “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

 Sam whistles. “Remind me to make sure you’re on the opposite team next karaoke night.”

 Wait, there’s karaoke nights? He’s never been invited. Not that he’d want to go, but-

 “Yeah, because you know the only way you’d ever have a chance at winning is to go against me.”

 Something about that playful smile, the one he’s only ever seen before directed at him (usually when she’s teasing him about being an old man… god, she’s so young, what’s she doing with him anyway) irks him, and ultimately that’s what makes him step forward and interrupt the banter.

 “Good mission?” Okay, his mind’s definitely playing tricks on him. Her eyes light up and, completely abandoning Sam, she takes off at a run towards him. Bucky’s prepared for it and immediately pulls her into a tight embrace as soon as she’s near enough.

 “God, I missed you.” Yeah, it was all his imagination. Her lips press against his in punctuation to her statement, and by the time they break apart, he’s out of breath.

 “I missed you too, Doll, but the question still stands.”

 “Yes, it was good. Pretty boring for the most part, but…” He really should be paying attention, but his gaze shifts towards Sam. Is he crazy, or is Sam… watching her? That’s to be expected. They did just spend seventy-two odd hours in close quarters. It’s probably a remnant from the mission. Right?

 “...and between you and me-” She leans closer, body pressing against his side, and that redirects his attention. “-the president is kind of a dick.”

 She says it quietly, but Sam must’ve heard, because he nods.

 “Welcome to protecting world leaders.” Their eyes lock for a moment, and Bucky nods.

 “Wilson.”

 “Barnes.” And, Sam’s back to looking at her. “Gotta say, your girl’s more fun on stakeouts than you. Knows how to keep things interesting.” What the hell does that mean? He needs to calm down. He trusts her implicitly. It’s an innocent comment.

 “I could’ve told you that.” Of course she’s more interesting. When Bucky’s on a mission, he’s only interested in getting in and out as quickly and effectively as possible. That’s what he did as The Winter Soldier, and the years of sticking to a strict protocal haven’t made him more chatty. She and Sam are from the same generation. They have things to talk about. Things in common. Shared life experiences. Oh god, he’s so very much older than she is. Old and boring. 

 “Yeah.” Sam chuckles. “I think next time, I’m gonna ask if I can have her instead of you.”

 If he was paying closer attention to the woman by his side, Bucky would’ve caught the slight frown on her face at Sam’s words, but it’s lost on him thanks to her reply.

 “No thanks. If  I never have to share a hotel room with you again, it’ll be too soon.” Wait… they shared a hotel room? That’s common, but… one hotel room. Shared. That means one bathroom. One shower. One bed. Jesus, he needs to get ahold of himself. It’s fine. Everything is-

 “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the debrief?”

 She nods, smiling brightly. “Sure thing.”

 Sam approaches and… oh boy… they share a quick hug.

 Bucky’s not sure how long he’s just standing there, ordering the voices in his head to shut up, but it must be longer than necessary, because next thing he’s aware of is her calling his name.

 “Yeah.”

 “You okay there, Buck?” She peers up at him, frowning. “You seem a little… off.”

 “Fine.” Clearing his throat, he interlocks his fingers with hers. “Let’s go home.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 It’s been bubbling underneath the surface for a while now. Ever since she returned home from the mission a week ago, really. Something about Barnes is… off. She’s not sure what, but he seems quieter somehow. More solemn.

 At first she thought he was hanging back, giving her a chance to readjust to life at home. That’s why she didn’t pay much attention when, on the first day, he stayed mostly silent, letting her carry the conversation. She took that time to fill him in on the highs and lows of the mission, the funny moments, the frightening ones, and everything in between. His response was pretty muted, but she brushed it off.

 The next day was the debrief. Despite not being involved in the mission, Bucky was called in. She chalked up the stiffness in his posture during the meeting to discomfort at being in the same room with Fury again. That is, until it was just him, her, and Sam, and if anything, Bucky seemed more sullen.

 She returned to teaching on the third day, so her mind was occupied with other things besides the man she loves for the majority of the day. He seemed more his normal self when she arrived home, and the evening was going pretty well until they settled in to watch television and she made an off-handed comment about how he really must’ve enjoyed Leave it to Beaver. His response was a sigh and the words, “It’s more in my age bracket, I guess.” After that, he was completely shut down, and she was torn between apologizing and asking him what the hell is going on.

 On day four, she wakes up with new determination. She’s going to fix this, whatever it is. Maybe he’s feeling left out since she went on a mission with his partner. Well, she has a simple solution to that. She’ll invite Sam over for dinner so that they can have some time to catch up. After all, with Steve all but out of the picture, Sam’s the closest thing to a friend Bucky’s got. And, since tomorrow is a Friday, it’ll work out perfectly. She expects an at least mildly positive response when she mentions the idea to Bucky, but instead, his lips quirk down slightly before he hides any and all emotions away and tells her,

 “Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

 At least Sam’s a little more enthusiastic.

 “Sure. I’ll do anything to avoid cooking.”

 The day of the dinner, she makes a point to leave work as soon as her last class is dismissed. No student meetings. No talking to colleagues. She’s a woman on a mission. That mission takes her to three separate grocery stores, a bakery, and a liquor store. By the time she arrives home, she has all the ingredients for a traditional Sunday roast, a Boston cream pie, and a bottle of wine she was told would pair well with the meal.

 As per usual on her days to cook, when Bucky arrives home, he asks if he can help with any of the preparations. She cheerfully informs him that she’s got it covered, and from his expression, you’d think she’d told him to go jump off a bridge. She thinks about calling him back, but that’s when a pot decides to boil over, so she’s momentarily distracted.

 At six o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. Right on time.

 “Can you get that?” She calls from the kitchen to where he’s sitting in the living room. It’s unnervingly quiet for a moment, then-

 “Sure.” It’s said with all the excitement of someone agreeing to a root canal.

 Her gut tells her to leave the kitchen, go and oversee the hospitality in the other room, but she forces herself to stay in place, give them some time to get reacquainted.

 “Nice play you’ve got here.” Sam.

 “Thanks.”

 “Didn’t realize it was in the same building as Steve’s.” Oh no. She doesn’t have to be able to see  Bucky’s expression to know he’s taken a hit.

 “Yeah.”

 “Is that his old couch? I remember crashing on it a few times.”  

 “Same one.” 

 Well, this is thrilling. Shaking her head, she removes the cork from the wine, allowing it to breathe and makes her way towards the living room.

 “You okay, man? Seems like something’s eating you.”

 “Fine.” So it’s not just her imagination.

 “Hey, guys-” Two sets of eyes lock on her. Sam looks relieved. Bucky looks… sad? No, she’s reading this wrong. “-soup’s on.”

 Dinner is… awkward. Sam cracks jokes and tells old battle stories. She laughs at the appropriate times and asks polite questions, but the whole time, her attention is on Bucky. He’s not one to participate in idle chatter (at least not when it involves anyone outside of the two of them), but tonight he’s dead silent. At one point, Sam asks him a question, and the only reply is a glare and a sharp, “No.” She resists the urge to kick him under the table, instead focusing her frustrations into being cheery enough for both of them.

 The clock strikes eight, and although she wasn’t expecting Sam to leave this soon, she can’t blame him for making an excuse about having an early morning meeting at the V.A. to get out of there.

"That is, unless you could use some help with the cleanup?”

 She’s already prepared to brush it off, he’s a guest, they can handle it, but before she can speak-

 “No. I’ve got it covered.” It would be a less threatening sentiment if Barnes wasn’t standing directly in the kitchen door frame, blocking the room from view, arms crossed over his chest, frowning menacingly.

 “Right.” Sam nods and, muttering something about seeing them at work, sees himself out.

 As soon as the door closes, she collects their plates and, not bothering with a warning, pushes past her fiance into the kitchen. She’s hoping that the literal cold shoulder will serve as a warning for him to stay back, don’t fuck with her right now, but of course, her luck couldn’t work out just this one time because not thirty seconds later, he’s beside her, scraping plates in preparation for washing. Fine. If he insists on ignoring all the signs that point to “Do not disturb”, she’ll go ahead and get into it.

 “You didn’t have to be so rude to Sam tonight.” He freezes, hands gripping the ceramic bowl he’s emptying into the trashcan so tightly that she’s afraid it’ll shatter.

 “I wasn’t rude. I was quiet.” The bowl slams down on the counter top next to her, and if she weren’t so pissed off, she’d jump, startled. “There’s a difference.”

 “Not speaking when spoken to, answering with one-word statements?” Shaking her head, she turns on the tap. “That’s rude. Not quiet.”

 Another slam, this time of a wine glass. “Didn’t seem like the conversation suffered.”

 She opens her mouth, fully intent on calmly pointing out that friends talk to each other, that’s what they do, but instead what comes out is,

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” His jaw tenses, and she considers apologizing, but decides to stand her ground. He’s had this coming to him all damn week.

 “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. Except that I’m not Sam.”

 She turns to face him, confused. “What does that even mean?”

 Not so much as pausing as he scrapes the remnants of dinner off of a plate, he nearly growls, “You go away on a mission, and when you come back-” The fork clatters as it’s tossed into the sink. “-he’s your new best friend.”

 “What’s wrong with that?” She refuses to let his gruffness ruffle her, instead allowing her own voice to turn hard. “Am I not supposed to have friends?”

 “That’s not what I’m saying-”

 “Then what is it?” She’s rapidly losing patience with the entire situation.

 “Nothing.” He shakes his head, returning to the sink. “Forget I said anything. Clearly my opinion isn’t needed since now you can talk to your good pal Sam.”

 Her mouth falls open, forming a perfect “o”, but she immediately snaps it shut. Fine. If he wants to go down that road…

 “You know what? You’re right.” She nods. “I do like talking to Sam.” His shoulders tense, but she continues. “It turns out we have a lot in common. You should try it sometime instead of shutting down anything that might lead to you actually liking the man!”

 “Well if you like him so much, then why are you even with me?” The words are practically hurled at her and she blinks in surprise. She’s never heard this much anger in his voice, not directed at her. So much anger and… dejection?

 “Is that what all of this is about?” She says it more to herself than him, but Bucky gives her a tight nod.

 “You said so yourself; you two have a lot in common-”

 “So do we-”

 “-And he’s closer to your age.”

 She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted someone closer to my age, do you think I would’ve spent the five years you were gone on my own?”

 “Why did you?” The trashcan lid slams shut and another fork is thrown into the sink. “For all you knew, I wasn’t coming back.” His eyes rake over her, and she has the urge to cross her arms, covering herself. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart too. Even with half the population gone, you can’t tell me there wasn’t anyone interested. Why didn’t you start over?”

 “I couldn’t.” She expects her voice to shake, but it comes out deceptively strong.

 “Sure you could. Why didn’t you-”

 “Because I love you, okay?” Tears prick at her eyes even as she shouts the words, and she has to stare into the sink to keep him from seeing. “I love you. In  case you hadn’t realized it, I’m a one-and-done type. For me, it’s you. There’s only ever going to be you. I’m yours.”

 “Doll-”

 “What do you want from me, Bucky? Do I have to get on my knees to prove it to you? Because I’ll do it.” The tears are truly flowing now. She doesn’t have much time. So, with the last bit of bitterness she has in reserves, she mutters, “I can’t keep having this conversation for the rest of my life.”

 “And you shouldn’t have to.” The words take her by surprise, and she looks up. He’s peering at her, brow knitted, but this time, it’s not in anger. “Doll, you haven’t done anything wrong. I know that, just-” He groans, forcing his fingers through his hair. “-I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, ‘cause that’s how it’s always been. You don’t deserve that.”

 “I don’t.” She shakes her head, eyes still locked with his. “But you don’t deserve to live like that either. So what can we do to fix it?”

 For a few seconds it’s silent, the kind of silent you can feel pressing against you, strangling you, forcing the breath from your lungs. Then-

 “I don’t know, just-” Bucky sighs, and she pretends not to see the shine of tears in his eyes as well. “-can you keep reminding me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but just until I can get it through my thick skull-”

 It’s involuntary. Her mind has no control over her body as, without any warning, she grabs hold of his collar and, yanking hard, pulls him down for a kiss. As his arms envelope her, pulling her flush against his body, close enough that she can feel his heartbeat hammering against her chest, everything’s right for the first time in days.

 “I can do that.” She murmurs it against his ear, breath catching in her throat as his lips leave a trail of kisses across her jaw, leading down to her neck. “For as long as you need me to.”

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 “I’m sorry.” It’s never an easy sentence to utter, to admit you were wrong, that you’re the one at fault. “I’m sorry.” In Bucky’s experience, most times he utters those words, it feels like he’s slapping a band-aid on a bullet wound. Most of the things he’s done are so bad, it doesn’t matter if he regrets them. There’s no absolution available. Especially this time. Especially now that he’s hurt her. But what else can he say? He truly is.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “You keep saying that.” They’re in bed now, lying side by side, his head buried in the cushion of her chest. Her hands are trailing up and down his uncovered back, tracing lazy patterns between gently kneading the tension of the past few days out of his muscles. For his part, all he can do is breath her in, her scent, her presence. That and repeat the same damn words over and over like a prayer.

 “And I’m going to keep telling you the same thing. It’s alright. It’s over. I love you.” He’d be happy just to drown in those reassurances, let them wash over him until it’s all he can remember. But that’s not realistic. Eventually he’ll have to get up, and when that happens, the next step will be making amends. He may not be a man who believes in the power of an apology, not after all he’s seen, but he’s wise enough to know that words need to be backed up with actions, and the sooner the better.

 He hates himself for moving, for interrupting such a peaceful moment, but he needs to get a start on repairing any damage that’s been done. Leaning back just enough to see her, he peers into her eyes, partially hidden between lowered lids.

 “Let me show you, then.” It takes a minute, but he can tell when she registers what he’s asking.

 “There’s nothing to prove, but I’ll never say no.”

 It’s nothing they haven’t done a thousand times before. He lifts the shirt from her body and eases her back against the mattress, those trusting eyes not straying from his face, and he can’t help but think to himself that he’s the only one who gets to see her like this. Exposed. Vulnerable. Whether he deserves it or not (he’s unsure if he’ll ever believe he does), he’s the one who gets to kiss her lips, feel them move against his, until, both of them breathless, he pulls away, leaving them a debauched red.

 From their years together, he knows that just below her earlobe is a hot spot; if he so much as brushes it with his tongue or allows his breath to tease over it, she’ll gasp, body growing more pliant beneath him. That, as he works his way lower, she likes the feeling of his hand over her throat, not applying pressure, just resting there, reminding her that she’s held. He’s caught her studying her reflection in the mirror, fingers lightly tracing over the marks he’s left in the hollow between her breasts, a small, secretive smile on her lips. Tomorrow, she’ll do it again.

 He knows, after removing the thin cotton panties from her lower half and settling between her legs, how to take her apart, piece by piece. Her hands grasp his hair, much shorter now than the first time they did this, as he teases her nub with his tongue, just enough to hear her soft moan before starting in earnest. He’s the only one to know exactly how much she can take, how rough he can be, or how teasing, before she’s absolutely desperate, but tonight, he doesn’t put that knowledge to good use, instead focusing on what will tip her over the edge most effectively.

 They’ve both got a hell of a lot of endurance, so this could go on for hours, but he knows after the first orgasm, she prefers for him to get on with it, get inside of her, and usually by that point, he’s beyond jokes or teasing her about being an eager little thing. Tonight’s no exception, although he takes special care to prepare her, working one, then two, then three fingers into her, immediately finding the spot inside of her that makes her breath catch in her throat. It’s only after he’s satisfied that she’s ready, that there will be no pain, that he tears open the packet from the nightstand drawer and, now covered, presses against her entrance.

 He’s the only one who knows that, as soon as her legs are locked around his waist, heels digging into his ass, she’s ready for him to pick up the pace, use the leverage of his resting on either side of her head, boxing her head, to rock against her faster. If he presses his face against her shoulder, he can hear each intake of breath, feel her pulse thundering away. If he lowers his forehead to hers, he can look into her eyes. Tonight, he chooses to take advantage of their position to place kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, really any part of her face he feels like pecking.

 It’s as often her on top, and god, that’s probably his favorite view in the world, but this time, he wants to be the one in control, taking care of her. Reaching between them, he urges her over the edge a second time, her nails digging into his shoulders providing just a tinge of pain that’s almost enough for him to lose it, but no, not yet. He wants her to cum one more time before he finishes.

 It doesn’t take long. She’s so sensitive at this point that, only minutes later, he feels her contract around him with a tale-tell moan, and that’s what sends him over, muffling his own moan against her sweaty neck.

 Before, he would resist the urge to just colapse on top of her, or at the very least, roll off quickly in fear that he’d crush her under his weight. Now that her status as a super soldier matches his own, he can relax, enjoy the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his, and moments later, her arms encircling his back.

 “I love you, Doll.” So much. Before it all, before the war and HYDRA and everything that followed, he was good with words, quick with sweet talk, but now, they seem to stick in his throat. Still, that’s what it all boils down to. He loves her, and as much as she claims that she’s his, he belongs just as much to her.

 “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

[asktheheirofslytherin]

[[OOC: Putting most of this one under a read more because it is very, very long. ]]

"Killing your father is not the greatest decision that you have made, Professor. It would mean that you have held a grudge against him for leaving you and your mother. It would also mean that you have at least pitied your mother for going through that and becoming mad at him for not being there for you, furious at your mother falling in love with that horrendous man. " Thirteen said absentmindedly before sighing.

"Don't mind about what I said." She told him as she waved it off.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him when asked about killing them.

"I may be powerful, Riddle, but I do not kill people without any real reason behind it. Yes, they may have tortured me throughout my childhood but I do not want to wish it upon anyone, not to mention, if I ever did kill them then it would mean that I have lowered myself to be at their level! I'm lucky and surprised that they have let life this long. Other escapees have tried to escape but they would always die. A miracle you would say for what happened to me yet a curse at the same time." She snapped at him unintentionally letting out a bloodthirsty aura, her eyes swirling red, her hair levitating a bit, and her mark glowing. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh as she relaxed, and went back to normal before she stood up from the chair.

"I'm sorry that I snapped, sir. It was uncalled for." She told him as she bowed to him before she sat back to her chair, holding her arm that held the mark, rubbing it sheepishly.

"Him? Oh, you don't want to know Him. Cain is a different person than Him. Too different, some might say that He is the punisher and Cain is the sinner." She told him as she looked down. Not wanting to look at him for her childish outburst.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, Professor. This conversation has fallen deep than it should have." She told him before she looked at him. She stood up and teleported behind him.

"It's too bad that you wouldn't remember any of this, Professor." She whispered to him before she touched on the back of his head and used one of her powers using the blue eyes, making him close his eyes and sleep.

His body limped on the chair and was about to fall on the floor before she catches him with the levitating spell.

She touched his shoulder and she teleported him to his bedroom. She levitated him in his bed carefully and tucked him. She snapped her fingers and changed his clothes to his sleeping clothes before walking to him. She touched his forehead lightly to lock their conversation away and hypnotized his memories a bit to the situation before the conversation and she dismissed him and she went to her dorm while he went to his home and sleep.

She sighed and teleported away from his room, after leaving him a small vial of blue grace, letting the professor sleep and gave him dreams on his dreams coming true, and protecting him without any nightmares.

She teleported to her dorm with her blindfold on and changed her clothes. She put the notes in her binder and went to sleep as the sun started to rise.

She silently thanked God that tomorrow was a Saturday and has no classes. She needs to get to the bunker again and fast. Some more research has to be done. But first, she was needed somewhere else.

Thirteen may have arranged his memories and such. But emotions were harder to control and manipulate. So Riddle will always have a nagging feeling about having to talk to Thirteen tomorrow morning, that is if he can catch up to her.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was now Saturday morning and Thirteen had finished breakfast at the Great Hall. She walked to her dorm and waved her wand to reveal a fake floorboard beside her bed. She opened it and grabbed the backpack that was underneath it.

She concealed the board again then walked to the forbidden forest. She went deep inside the forest and then she saw the waterfall with some broken structures. Some of the structures had some unknown runes while some had sigils. For an average witch or wizard, they wouldn't recognize any of the drawings. But Thirteen did, how can she not if she was the one who put it there.

She was standing a few inches away before she put her hand in mid-air then the atmosphere started to gloss like it wasn't real, like it was a barrier. She smiled to herself and just went straight in.

She knew she was being followed again, she wasn't known for being discreet. She sighed but still kept walking towards a small cottage.

There was a little girl, with soft pale skin, black hair, and grey eyes and a little boy, with white hair, blue eyes, and pale soft skin who both looked to be 5 years old. They looked up to her and squealed as they ran to her, screaming, "Mama! Mama!"

She knelt and was tackled by her two loving kids.

"Hey, kids!" She told them with a laugh. She felt so carefree.

She kissed them both on their foreheads.

"Mama! When will you be staying with us again?" The little girl asked Thirteen.

"Summer is almost here, Constance." She replied to her with a pat on her forehead while her daughter smiled gleefully at her.

"Ma! After your school, can we go to France again?" The little boy asked her.

"Of course, Loki. Now that you mentioned school, how are you learning with Uncle Gabriel?" She asked the twins with a curious look in her eyes.

"We did good!" Loki told her with a grin.

"You two were the most mischievous and cunning little snakes!" A man with blonde hair and blue eyes said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Did you two do pranks to him again?" She asked them and they smiled sheepishly.

"I'll take that as a yes." She told them as she smirked at them.

"Hey, sis. Why do you have your blindfold on?" Gabriel asked her with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, about that, Gabes. Old habits die hard." She told him as she took it off before standing up and said to Gabriel, "Mm~ I smell something good. Did you cook fried chicken?"

"Yep and some adobo chicken and made some fruit salad."

"That sounds delicious! Come on kids, let's eat?" She asked her twins to which, to her surprise, shook their heads no.

That's odd, they would always jump at the word fried chicken.

"We want to play some more, mama!" Constance reasoned as Loki nodded.

"Hm... What about after eating I'll teach you some magical creatures?"

"Really?" Loki said to her with excitement in his eyes.

"Mhm, I learned about some new creatures from the books and professor,"

"Professor Riddle?" Constance said with her head tilted.

"Mhm." She said to her little angel.

"Yes! Professor Riddle is the best!" Loki said, jumping with glee.

"Really? Out of all the stories that she told you about her professors, you like Professor Riddle?" Gabriel asked the twins with a smirk on his face.

"Mhm! Oh, mom! Can we go meet him one day?" Loki asked his mother while Constance just nodded her head at her mother.

"Gee, I don't know. Professor Riddle is always busy with research and stuff."

"🥺" (←They did this look) This made the twins do the puppy eyes.

"Alright, I'll mention it to him later. Man, you two are so persuasive." Thirteen said to her kids as pinch their cute chubby cheeks.

'They're so cute and persuasive, damn. They might end the world with their cuteness,' She thought to herself.

"Yeah, after you explain about to these little twerps," Gabriel said to Thirteen as he walked to her.

"We're not twerps! You're just a jerk!" Constance retorted to Gabriel.

"Yeah!" Loki said as well. This made Thirteen and Gabriel laugh.

"Which reminds me, why do you like him so much?" She asked her twins curiously.

"I want to be like him when I grow up!" Loki reasoned to his mother.

"Makes sense since he is an interesting soul," Gabriel shrugged.

"I want to marry him," Constance said simply which made her mother's eyes go wide and Gabriel choke on his saliva suddenly making him cough.

"Why? You haven't seen him what he looks like, what if he had buck teeth?"

"I don't care, as long as he's mine! " Constance said a smile that made her mother worried, Loki says?" And Gabriel laugh.

"Great! My daughter is persuasive and possessive! What did you do, Gabriel?!" She said to Gabriel.

"Don't look at me! They're your kids! They came out of you! You should know that! And besides, it won't surprise me if she ever becomes a yandere." Gabriel said as he mockingly put his hands up in a surrender motion as he took a step back.

The mother and the twins looked at each other and tilted their heads at Gabriel.

Gabriel had his eyes wide and said, "Nope! Oh hell now! Just go inside and eat dammit. Food's probably cold now."

Then they went inside the cottage and ate some food.

---------

“Well of course I held a grudge,” Tom said, shrugging. “I do not see how the need for revenge could be a bad thing. The feel of the final act - the fear in the man’s eyes as I confronted him, raised my wand, let him comprehend what was about to happen-” Tom’s eyes glinted red for just a moment as he allowed himself to relish the memory - and then he recalled he was with a student. This was not appropriate in the slightest, he chided himself. “Anyhow,” he continued, shrugging. “I feel that more than enough of a good reason to kill, no? Ah, I suppose we are dissimilar. Perhaps for the best, then.” 

“Outburst? Oh, no, it is fine, and facinating - and perhaps even fair after my own indiscretio-” And then everything went dark. 

-

The following morning, with no memory of his late-night conversation with Thirteen, Tom ate his eggs with relative unease. He was not quite sure what caused this - he had a productive night working on research, then slept quite well - but he had a feeling he was forgetting something, needed to do something. He double and triple checked his calendar, both official and... extracurricular, but no, there was nothing. And so he scanned the Great Hall, eyes lingering on the Slytherin table. There had been a student he had to meet with. The odd girl, Thirteen. If only he could remember why. And he did not see her seated with her peers. Of course not. 

Still, he had seen her on weekends before, wandering the grounds, alone. Perhaps he would go for a walk after he ate, and if all went well, perhaps he would run into her.  

[leedongwook]

The fire station 118 gets taken hostage. Who will save them? 🔥

(Trigger warnings: violence, guns, shot wounds, blood)

Buck’s early to his shift today. He’s on truck cleaning duty this morning. That’s why he’d opened the big hall doors to get some natural light in. It was actually nice to have the morning sun shine into the hall while cleaning the truck. Yesterday’s been a busy day so Buck does enjoy the quiet of the morning while everyone’s just doing the chores. He looks up from wiping down the truck when he hears two men walking down the driveway to the fire house. Buck musters precisely because he’s not familiar with them. He puts away his cloth and walks towards the men.

“Good morning, can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.”

One of the men laughs weirdly and Buck doesn’t even have the time to react when the other man moves himself quickly behind him pulling his arms behind his back, covering his mouth with his hands. Buck struggles in the man’s arms and tries to break free, and he could, but he stops moving when a gun is pressed onto his forehead.

“If you move or scream I’ll shoot you in the head, boy.”

Buck swallows hard. He thinks of his team members and a way to warn them. The pressure of the gun on his forehead makes it hard to think though.

“So, my friend here is gonna take his hand away now and you won’t make a sound. You’re going to close that hall gate and show us the way to your Captain. Do you understand?!”

Buck looks at the man with strong eyes. He won’t let them scare him. He needs to find a way to warn his friends.

The man with the gun slaps him on the head hard with his other hand. His cold eyes bore deep into Buck and a shiver runs down his back. This man was really dangerous. He’s seen such eyes. Cold and no regret.

“Do you understand?”

Buck nods his head and the man behind him lets go of his hands. The man lifts the gun away but keeps it trained on Buck. He walks over to the door and pushes the button to close it. Buck looks around and thinks about running out of the station. But then he thinks of his team. He can’t leave them in this situation. The hall gate closes shut with thud and Buck locks it.

“Good boy.”

The man laughs and Buck clenches his fists in anger.

“Don’t call me that.”

The expression of the man changes and the next thing Buck feels is an exploding pain in his face and he tastes blood. He brings his hand to his nose and it comes back bloody. He’s lucky when it’s not broken.

The man grabs him on his chin and violently moves his head up, so he has to look at him.

“I said. Don’t. Talk.”

Buck squeezes his eyes shut for a second. The other man grabs him by his arm and manhandles him into moving. Bucks face hurts and his vision is a bit blurry from the blow in his face.

“Now, get me to your Captain.”

Buck opens his eyes again and looks around quick. It’s early into their shift and he’s only seen Eddie, Chim, Hen and Bobby check in this morning. He hopes it’s not more firefighters who are around. In his current panic he can’t remember if he’s seen the others or not.

The man keeps on pushing him and it makes him stumble forwards. They walk over to the stairs. He can hear Bobby move around in the kitchen, probably preparing breakfast. When they arrived at the landing he can see his Captain. His back is turned to them and he’s busy cutting vegetables.

The man shoves him forward while is partner walks next to them. Buck wants to break free and scream for Bobby to run but he knows he’s got no chance. His eye sight is still a bit blurry and his head’s ringing from the blow in his face and he definitely wouldn’t be able to outrun the shot of a gun.

The man with the gun coughs loudly to get the Captain’s attention.

”Good morning Captain Nash.”

Bobby startles and turns around immediately after hearing the man speak.

“Good - ...”

His voice gets stuck in his throat when he sees the three men in front of him. The Captains eyes go wide and Buck knows he’s already planning a rescue mission in his mind. Buck slowly shakes his head though. It’s too dangerous. Bobby blinks at Buck and he knows it’s his Captain trying to calm him down. His face crunches up when his eyes wander to Bucks bloody nose.

“Buck, are you ok?”

The gunman chuckles and waves around with his pistol.

“Oh pretty boy’s fine, aren’t you Buck? He just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“What do you want? If you need help I can - ...”

The gunman stops in his tracks and Buck can see how his expression turns into anger. He steps forward and huffs at the Captain.

“Oh you, you did enough Captain Nash, you and your team ruined everything. You took her away.”

Buck thinks about a call gone wrong or any reason why those two men would want to hurt them. Their faces still don’t seem familiar to him but then again they meet  hundreds of people in their line of work.

The man who’s holding Bucks arm grips him tighter. He can feel that he’s nervous through. Buck makes a mental note, maybe he can use that later. Maybe this guy doesn’t share the same grudge as the other man.

The gunman walks back over to him and laughs madly.

“Get all of your team here. Now. And don’t tell me it’s just you and him, we know the others are here.”

Buck remembers now that Eddie, Chim and Hen went down to the basement to check the oxygen tanks. The Capitan hesitates for a bit but then reaches for his radio.

“Don’t try to warm them or -“

The gunman puts the barrel of his pistols against Bucks temple. The cold metal on his skin making him wince and hold his breath.

“ - I’ll blow the kid’s brains out. We don’t want that mess do we?”

He laughs and Buck wants to punch him in the face so badly, his fingers itch. The Captian looks at Buck with worried eyes and Buck knows he wants to help him. But there’s no way the two of them can handle the situation without one of them getting hurt.

Bobby pushes the send button of his radio.

“Eddie, Chim, Hen I need you in the kitchen, now.”

The radio rattles and Eddie answers back.

“Copy that Captain, on our way.”

A couple of minutes later they can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Buck wants to scream but the gun presses against his temple reminds him that they most likely will shoot him when he doesn’t keep his mouth shut.

The team talks while walking up the stairs. They’re in a good mood, ready for a new shift.

“Cap, what do you want?”

Chim stops talking immediately when he sees the gunman holding the weapon against Bucks head. Eddies eyes get wide and Buck knows that look. He’s ready to jump in the situation. Buck slowly shakes his head and pleads with his eyes for the other man to not do anything stupid. Hen let’s out a loud breath and puts a hand over her mouth when she sees Bucks bloody face.

“Nice of you to join us. Get over there. Sit on the ground. Hands where I can see them.”

He puts the gun away from Buck and waves it over to the side of the room. The man then looks back at Bobby.

“You sit right there Captain.” He points to the table. “Hands on the table.”

Bobby moves slowly and sits down. The man holding Buck shoves him at his shoulder and presses him down on a chair opposite from Bobby.

The gunman walks around and takes everyone’s radios away and throws them on the table.

“This is gonna be fun.”

He laughs and it makes Buck’s skin crawl. Buck looks over to his team colleagues who are crouching on the floor. Hen looks scared and Chimney holds at her hand. Eddie is ready to burst and Buck tries to get his attention. Their eyes connect and Buck can see the anger in Eddie eyes. He has seen this look only once in the other man’s eyes. The time he was street fighting to get this anger under control. Buck prays that Eddie won’t do anything impulsive though he doesn’t want him to get hurt. He doesn’t want any of them to get hurt.

The gunman’s tapping the pistol on the table and the noise breaks Buck out of his toughts. The man behind him digs his hands into his shoulders.

“You, you all let her die. You probably don’t even remember her. Her name was Ruth and you let her burn.”

Ruth. Buck remembers now and he can see in his friends eyes they can remember it, too. You never forget someone you lost on a call. There was a house fire: The husband came out safe but it was too late for the wife. Buck remembers how they went in but the floor was gone already and there was no chance the woman could have survived. They went in anyway to check. They barley made it out themselves but they couldn’t get the wife out. Calls like that happen and it was always difficult for the firefighters to accept that they couldn’t save someone. Buck remembers the husband, the anger the desperation after realizing he had lost his wifey. They couldn’t have saved her though.

He looks at the gunman and sees the same anger and desperation from that night again. It scares him.

“2477 Baker Avenue. The house fire.”

Bobby’s voice is quiet and calm. It’s the voice he uses when he tries to calm someone down, tries to help them and focus, Buck notices.

“We tried everything we could. But the house was almost gone when we arrived. I’m so sorry -“

The man rushes over to Bobby and waves the gun at his face. Buck can see the man’s neck vein pulsate dangerously.

“You left her to die.” He screams in the Captains face.

“There was no chance we could have saved her. I’m sorry.”

It’s Eddie who talks now. The anger in the man’s eyes flares up and he runs over to where the team is sitting on the floor. He kicks at Eddie and shoves the gun against his head.

“Shut up. Shut up.”

Buck can see the man’s finger move against the trigger of the gun and he violently pushes the man’s hands off his shoulders and jumps of the chair.

“Nooo!”

Bucks scream startles the gunman and he turns around, pulling the trigger in panic.

The shot echoes through the fire house. It’s quiet after that, no one dares to move or breath. Buck feels exactly when the bullet hits his shoulder. It collides with his collar bone and knocks the air out of him. The man who was holding him down steps aside with fear in his eyes. Buck falls backwards, his head and back connecting with the floor hard. His vision goes black for a second.

“Fuck, are you insane, Tom.”

The gunman walks up and down and presses his hands to his head. 

“Don’t say my name, you idiot. Shut up.”

Buck blinks his eyes open again. He looks at the ceiling above him. His left shoulder is on fire and his chest aches painfully. He wants to move his hand to check on the wound but he feels frozen.

“Buck, Buck can you hear me?”

It’s Bobby’s voice and Buck manages to slowly move his head to the side. The Captain is standing now, his hands on the table. Buck tries to speak but no words come out. He sucks in air loudly and has to cough. He regrets it when a sharp pain flares up in his right shoulder.

Eddie jumps to his feet but the gunman is at him seconds later.

“If you don’t wanna end up like him, sit the fuck down.”

Buck feels incredibly dizzy but he tries to lift his head up. There’s a wet spot on the side of his shirt. It’s not wet though, it’s his blood. He looks to the side and can see a lake of red next to him. He’s freaking bleeding out on the fire house kitchen floor. That’s just Buck and his luck, isn’t it.

He watches Eddie sit back down biting at his lip angrily.

The other man without the gun walks over to where Buck is lying. He can see fear in the man’s eyes and Buck hopes that he’ll be the key to get out of this situation. He’s not as angry as the gun man. Buck notices the man’s hands are shaking.

“Is he - is he gonna die?”

Buck moans in pain when he touches his shot wound and digs a finger into the wound to stop the blood flow.

“Yes, there’s a big possibility. Hte bullet seems to have hit an artery and Buck here is on blood thinners which makes him bleed out even faster.”

The man looks at his partner in panic.

“I don’t -  I don’t want him to die. You said you’d wanted to scare them.”

The gunman walks over to his partner.

“They let your sister die.”

Buck feels himself slipping so he presses down on his wound harder to stop the bleeding a bit. The sharp pain clears his focus and he tries to speak.

“We - we tried everything we could I swear? I swear.”

Tears are rolling down his face now and mix with the blood next to his head on the floor.

The man looks unsure now, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

“This is wrong, Tom.”

The gunman walks over and pushes the man to the side. He talks angrily at him. Buck can’t hear much the blood rushing in his ear being too loud. He looks around the kitchen. Hen and Chim are still sitting on the floor. Eddies on his knees, roaming around the room with his eyes. Buck knows he’s planning to attack the gunman any minute.

“How you holding up, kid?”

Bobby whispers and Buck moves his head to where he’s standing at the table.

“I don’t think the bullet went through it’s -“

He has to squeeze his eyes shut because he feels a sharp sting inside his shoulder. He can’t breath and his vision goes white.

“Breath Buck, come on, breath.” Bobby tries to help him.

“It’s - it’s stuck in my collar bone I think. Bobby, I’m so tired.”

He barely gets the words out. Bobby’s eyes look scared at him. If the Captain looks scared, it really must be serious.

“We’ll get you outta here Buck, hang on, ok? Please hang on.”

The gunman walks back to Buck, followed by his partner.

“Don’t fucking talk, I need to think.”

Buck musters the man again. He’s nervously shaking his gun around, his fingers are not resting on the trigger at the moment. The man stands right in front of Buck, so If Buck could kick out his legs, he could make him fall over.

A wave of nausea hits him and he feels bile coming up his throat. It makes him gag. He knows he’s only got this one chance because after that he might lose consciousness. 

He feels the blood run through his fingers where he’s pressing them on the wound, life leaving his body with every breath he takes. He curses the damn blood thinners.

He looks over to Bobby and then to Eddie who are closest to him, then nods his head over to the gunman and his legs. He just hopes his colleagues understand what he’s trying to say. 

The other bad man leans at the wall behind him and if Eddie and Bobby are quick enough, they could get the gun before him and disarm him. It’s their only chance.

Buck reassuringly smiles at Hen and cChinmey. He takes one last deep breath and lets go of the wound. He feels how all the blood spill out of the wound freely now. He puts all his energy into his legs and kicks out violently against the gunmans kneecaps. The man yells out in pain and Buck can see him fall forwards. Eddie and Bobby jump into action at the same time.

There’s screams and loud noises but Bucks head falls back onto the hard floor and his vision goes black.

He can hear muffled voices and this awful hot pain in his shoulder won’t go away. His mouth feels dry and tastes like metal. Buck can’t remember why he feels so weird. And the pain in his shoulder is really getting on his nerves.

There’s hands touching him now, pulling at him and all he wants to do is push them away. There’s a bright light floating his sight and he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to move away from it. His body won’t cooperate though. He tries to focus on his own breathing and heartbeat and notices it’s all way too so slow. Why is it so slow?

“-Evan, open your damn eyes.”

Oh someone’s using his real first name so it must be serious. Was he hurt again? 

Suddenly someone pushes against his shoulder and the pain makes him scream and his eyes shoot open. He waves around his arms in panic and tries to shuffle away from the hands, that hold him down.

“Stop, Buck, don’t move around too much. You got shot.”

Hearing Eddies speak makes him stop moving. He looks around and Bobbys and Hens face appear in front of him. His sight is still blurred but he can see them now. 

On his left side Eddie is kneeling against his side and he can feel the weight of the other mans leg press against him. He follows Eddies arms to his shoulder and sees the blood. So much blood. His eyes dare to roll back into his head when Chimney, he thinks it’s Chimney, taps at his cheeks hard.

“Eyes open, Buckaroo. Five more minutes and we have you ready for the hospital.”

Eddie keeps on pressing on the wound while Chimney pushes something into his IV line in his hand. Buck remembers the gunman now and panic sets in again.

“Gun.”

Bobby kneels down next to his head and gently strokes his head.

“They’re both arrested and locked up. You did good, you saved us by kicking the gunman in the legs. You did so good, kid.”

Relief rushes over Buck and he smiles a bit. Suddenly his vision blacks out completely and he doesn’t know where he is anymore. It’s back in a second but he can’t get his eyes to focus again. He isn’t even sure he’s breathing anymore. He feels his heart stutter in his chest. At least he’d saved his team, right. It’s ok if he might not make it. They’re safe. He tries to fight against the numbness in his body and mind but he can’t.

“No, no, no Buck. You’re not doing this.”

He barley can hear or see things anymore. He feels hands on his body again. What he does hear is Bobby’s voice next to his head. He sounds sad. He doesn’t want him to be sad. He wants to tell Bobby to not be sad, that it’ll be ok. He cant though. The numbness and darkness being too strong. Overwhelming him. He prepares himself for more pain but he feels nothing instead and he gives in into the darkness.

———————

“Buck?”

Oh why can’t people just let him sleep. What time is it anyway?

“Come on, time to wake up.”

He feels a hand taking his own. Gentle fingers rubbing circles over his knuckles.

“Don’t wanna.”

He mumbles. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It sounds raw and thick. He moves his fingers on the sheets and notices they feel different. Right, that’s definitely not his own bed. Shit, did he go on a  bender and had too much to drink? He tries to move his upper body but stops when he feels a sting in his shoulder.

“You slept long enough. Open your eyes Evan.”

His first name again. He’s heard it before not so far away, hasn’t he. He moves again but his limbs feel numb and he winces in pain. Why does his freaking shoulder hurt so much.

“No don’t move too much, you’ll hurt your shoulder more.”

Buck’s annoyed now because he doesn’t know what’s happening. He slowly pries his eyes open. The light is too bright, it blinds his eyes. It smells clean and medical in the room and the cover thrown over him itches his at his skin. He now notices the beeping sound next to his ear.

When he finally has his eyes open he looks at the faces of Bobby and Eddie. Bobby’s holding at his hand and Eddie softly pushes his hands against his shoulder to make him lie down again. When did he move?

“You’ll rip you’re stitches Buck, relax.”

He blinks in confusion. He’s in a hospital room. Again.

“Why- why am I in the hospital again. What happened.”

Bobby lets go of his hand and pushes a glass of water in his hand which is not connected to an IV. Buck takes it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing his sore throat.

“Do you remember the gunman taking over the fire house? You got shot kid.”

Buck looks over to his shoulder and sees a bandage peaking though his hospital gown. Oh that explains the pain

“Ouch, shit.”

“Yeah, you can say that.”

Eddie flops down on the bed next to Bucks leg.

“You did a real action number there, Buck.”

Buck gives the glass back to Bobby who puts it away. He awkwardly scratches at his chin.

“I did? What did I do ? My head hasn’t caught up, I guess.”

Eddie laughs but Buck can see the redness under the other mans eyes. The puffy skin under it, like he’s been crying.

“You gave us a little sign that you were planning on doing something and then you just kicked at the gunmans legs so he fell and Bobby and I could disarm the man. You saved us, Buckley.”

“Oh. Yeah? I can’t remember that if I’m honest.”

“You already had lost a lot of blood, could explain the holes in your memory. It was a miracle you could even kick out like that.”

Buck’s still confused and he can feel the pain in his shoulder getting worse. Bobby seems to sense the other man’s distress and pushes at the pain IV that’s connected to his hand.

“You can use the painkillers Buck, that’s ok. You don’t have to be in pain.”

Buck nods and gives his Captain a tired smile. He carefully looks down on his shoulder again and sighs.

“How bad is it?”

He already feels the pain medication taking an effect. He feels more tired though.

“Since you’re always so lucky with stuff like that, the bullet got stuck in your collar bone. Took the doctors a while to get it out. You being on blood thinners made it worse. You’ve been out of for two days.”

He looks at Eddie who wipes at his eyes again.

“You scared us.”

Buck bites at his lip.

“-m sorry.”

Bobby shakes his head and smiles softly.

“No, don’t say that. You saved us all. I’m just so glad you’re ok, kid.”

Bobby walks over and gently squeezes Bucks uninjured shoulder. There’s an expression on his face Buck hasn’t seen often and it’s reversed for his wife. Buck leans into the Captains touch on his shoulder.

They all look towards the door when a nurse sticks her head in.

“I’m sorry but visiting hours are over and the police is here to get his statement if Mr Buckley is up for it.”

Buck nods and Bobby softly pats the back of his head.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, alright. Get some rest.”

Buck watches Bobby walk out of the room. He notices that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot on the bed. He can see the tension running down the other man’s body. His hands grabbing the sheets tight.

“Eds?”

The other man shuffles closer and pulls Buck by his shoulders bringing their foreheads together. He can feel Eddie hold at his neck, gently rubbing his finger up and down there.

“Please don’t, don’t ever do that again.”

Eddie gulps hard and presses his fingers into Bucks neck. It doesn’t hurt though and Buck feels the tension run out of his shoulders.

“Eddie, I couldn’t let them hurt you guys.”

The other man blows out a loud breath.

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t ever die in front of me again, I can’t - I can’t handle it. I can’t lose you, Evan.”

He feels Eddies fingers shake against his skin.

“Oh. Ok, I’ll try.”

Eddie moves away and Buck wishes he could still feel the other man’s hands against his neck.

“Just, be more careful ok?”

Buck nods and actually blushes a bit. Eddies smiles at him and squeeze at his hand.

“Get some sleep, I’ll be outside and check in later again?”

“You don’t have to stay Eddie. Go home to Chris.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Chris is the one who wants me to stay with you. He’s with his abuela anyway tonight.”

Buck waves his hand gestures him to go.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen your hands tremble and how you react to sudden noises.”

Buck looks down on his hands who are slightly shaking. He did startle earlier when he heard a car backfire.

“Sleep and talk to the officers later. I’ll be here.”

“Ok, thank you.”

Eddie pats his leg gently and walks out of the room.

Buck slips under the bedcover and holds at his shaking hands. The knowledge that Eddie will be there when he wakes up makes them stop shaking and the pain meds help him fall into a restful sleep quickly.

He’s glad he’s ok. 

He’s glad he saved his family. 

Because that’s what they all are

His family and he’d do anything to protect them.

[haravath0t]

How Halloween With Bucky Barnes Would Go (Pt. II)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Warnings: None, just more fluff! 

A/N: Hello lovelies! Happy Halloween ahhh! Thank you so much for the wonderful positive comments and responses to the first part of this particular headcanon! You guys have no idea how much it is appreciated, I can only hope I can keep providing content you all will enjoy! Please enjoy this last addition in honor of Halloween! Be safe! 

If you haven’t already, please check out Part 1! Please feel free to leave any comments or feedback!

You finally convincing James to come in a costume alongside you for the sake of the Halloween party, settling on Hogwarts students after you had introduced him to the Harry Potter series (he didn’t want to admit that he saw why you enjoyed it) 

Lots of afternoons of quiet and serenity for the two of you, whenever you two were free, you’d both cuddle up on the couch in front of the window from your shared room, taking out a nice book to read while listening on a vinyl record of your choosing

You waking up to an empty sheet in the day before Halloween, confused at where Bucky could possibly be, only for your question to be answered through the sweet smell of something cooking through the slight crack of your bedroom door 

You lazily getting up and putting on a sweater and comfy slippers and quietly opening the door, smiling when you see your boyfriend, back facing towards you concentrating on what seems to be breakfast, plates set up with the halloween themed placemats you recently bought, a salted caramel scented candle greeting your nose as you quietly inhaled with a small smile on your face as you went up to hug your boyfriend from behind

Bucky chuckling and stopping momentarily to hold your hand and kissing your knuckles as you both exchange a “good morning”, sleep still evident in your voice

“Whatcha making, love?” 

“Pancakes with a twist, baby doll…” 

You smiling in awe as he finishes and puts them on the plates, seeing both of you having a ghost shaped pancake and a spider web pancake along with eggs and bacon 

“How’d you...how’d you do this, James?” you question in awe as you excitedly pour you both orange juice, excitedly putting butter and syrup afterwards

A chuckle coming from his mouth and a satisfied smile “thought I could look it up on that YouTube website thingy you talk about… maybe surprise you for a laid back day ahead…” 

This makes you stop eating and looking up at him wide eyed and with excitement “You’re kidding… don’t tell me you’re finally getting into the Halloween spirit… why, what do you have planned, Barnes?” 

Bucky playfully rolling his eyes and smiling as he eats and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead “Just wait baby doll, just trust me on this one!” 

You squealing excitedly when he announces that he’ll drive around to a more natural area, immediately hopping into something comfortable

Bucky laughing as you excitedly put your feet on the dashboard, happy that you’re truly relaxing throughout the drive as you admire the vibrant colors of orange, brown, and yellow, which helped you take a nap much easier in the car (no surprise to Bucky) 

You opening your eyes to see that Bucky had parked in front of a pumpkin patch and squealing excitedly once again “No way” 

“You wanted to make Jack-O-Lanterns, did you not, doll?” 

“Have I told you that you’re the best?” 

“Well, I’d hope so, considering that I’m your boyfriend”

“Yes yes, whatever, let’s pick pumpkins before we can only get the bad ones!”

You two picking out the right shapes of pumpkins to not only be in your room, but even at the living room (not really you two, more of you picking it out and Bucky quietly following you and carrying your carefully picked out pumpkins, not that he minded… he loved it quite a lot) 

You two going home and opting to make Jack-O-Lanterns, opting to make faces of Disney characters for the bedroom, which caused Bucky to ask for a photo reference

 “God, maybe I should call Steve over… that punk can sketch anything so well on any surface anytime-” 

“James just try your best! I’ll help you too, I promise! It’s supposed to be fun!” 

“But what if I wanna make it perfect…” 

You smiling at his cuteness and his hope for perfection, kissing his cheek and assuring him that he’d do good no matter what, the man is practically precise in everything, especially with a knife

You proved that to be true, despite the help he needed for sketching out the character, but you must say, Bucky did in fact do quite a good job with the Jack-O-Lanterns, which made him smile in relief and relax as you looked at both of yours in awe

Him and you having fun carving out the different pumpkins after hollowing them out, the compound and bedroom finally being more and more festive

You two dressing up together in your costumes as you both went to the party the team held in Halloween, much to the team’s surprise, even making Steve look at you two in surprise

“I see you finally brought this jerk to dress up in a costume for once… what did you do, Y/N?” 

You giggled and gave a shrug “Just a bit of convincing that’s all” 

“Just couldn’t say no to my girl, Steve… she’s too excited about the whole thing” 

Steve already knew though, how contagious your excitement, happiness, and your enthusiasm towards everything was. That alone gave him the reassurance that you were the girl that Buck needed. You thrived off of each other’s energy, which clearly showed as you took each other everywhere, day after day as you prepared for Halloween. 

Your face looking at the team in shock when Tony announces that you all would be watching a horror movie “Oh no no no...no” 

“Ahhh, Y/N, grow up I thought you said that was the charm of Halloween! We’ve seen worse in the field haven’t we? What could possibly be scarier than those!”

“Fine, Stark but don’t expect me to pay attention!” 

You wanting to cuddle alongside Bucky, subconsciously tracing each metal plate on his hand, the silent whirs giving you a little source of peace despite the dark room and “The Grudge” playing. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the screams that came from Thor, Clint’s, even Tony’s lips, nearly dropping the bucket of candy that you and the ladies next to you hogged… it practically went like this throughout the movie

You were definitely not letting that get past them ever

Bucky quietly watched your gentle fingers and felt the gentle touch of your fingers while that all went down, which made him smile throughout the movie. He even let out a laugh when a particular jump scare made Sam jump out from his seat that accompanied with a “Holy Shit”, which made him wander in his own mind once again, 

He normally wouldn’t partake in this type of stuff, hell he wouldn’t be here. But because you always were happy to see him included, so encouraging for him to do even the ordinary domestic things in life alongside you, the guy didn’t mind. He saw why you enjoyed it. 

He led you both to the comforts of your bed after the night ended, smiling as you got comfortable in your PJs and muttering a soft “Thank you for doing this with me” into his chest. He looked one quick look around, smiling proudly at the Jack-O-Lanterns that were lit across the room, holding you protectively and kissing your head as he closed his eyes. If you had thought that he was deserving of experiencing happy things, maybe he really did… he definitely fell asleep thanking you for always showing him how much options are laid out for him, knowing that he’ll look at these options with you willingly by his side

Tags: @world-of-aus​ @whew-oh-em-gee​ @lordyitsjordy​ @tomholland-96​ @letstalkaboutsebbaby​

[sonicgetsrawed]

Put it on Repeat, Don’t Let it Stop

Basically a fic with the boys as exes in a ghost hunter au!!! Warning for blood, violence, temporary character death, emotional angst, actual death but in the past it’s a ghost hunter au someone had to be deaded!!!! There is a happy ending though!!! Enjoy!!!!

It had been six months, two weeks, and three days since Varian left. Five months, one week, and four days since Yong returned to school. Four months on the dot since Nuru accepted an internship at some tech company and quit. Three months and five days since his last case. And back to six months, two weeks, and three days since it all fell apart.

Hugo dragged his feet across the floor as he poured himself another cup of coffee before promptly sitting back down at his desk. The sunlight barely shining through the blinds on the windows of the dingy studio apartment. It was a temporary arrangement he kept telling himself, just until he could get back on his feet, but that temporary arrangement somehow quickly turned to half a year. Hugo sighed as he propped his feet up on the desk, scrolling through job searches as he sipped at his coffee, still hoping his work phone would ring, the outdated phone sitting on the corner of the desk, the screen covered in a thin layer of dust. His lips curled in disgust as he scrolled past yet another add for a dog walker, just how many dogs were there in this god forsaken city? He reluctantly clicked on it, he was almost out of money and he was fairly certain Donella wouldn’t excuse his rent again. He was halfway through the application when he heard his work phone ring.

“Fuck.” Hugo cursed under his breath, jumping at the sound, some of his coffee spilling from the mug and onto his shirt. He eagerly reached for the phone that had remained dormant for the past three months, his breath hitching when a familiar name and picture flashed across the screen. Babe, with hearts on both sides of the name, Varian’s freckled face and buck tooth smile staring back at him, his blue eyes captivating even in the picture. Hugo’s heart stopped, his finger hovering over the answer button, he hadn’t heard from Varian since they broke up. He’d pretty much erased all existence of the boy from his life, burned photographs, deleted pictures off his phone, he’d even gone as far as to delete his contact information, the only thing he didn’t have the heart to toss out was that stupid plush raccoon Varian had somehow left behind, which now was stuffed into a box and shoved underneath his bed. He thought he’d purged Varian from all places except his head, heart. Obviously the only thing he missed was clearing out his work phone. But this had to be a work call or else Varian would’ve just called his personal number. He wasn’t petty enough to scream at him through his work phone, and as much as Varian could hold a grudge it wasn’t likely he was calling to argue after six months. With only another moment of hesitation Hugo accepted the call, shakily bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. It made his heart stop, all the memories he had since locked away of their two years together came rushing back, the nights they spent together, the arguments they had, the tears they shed. Even the small moments they shared, Varian starting his day with a cup of hot chocolate instead of coffee, the way he’d pack Hugo’s lunch with two apples because he always seemed to skip breakfast, and the random kisses to his cheeks whenever Varian got particularly excited about something. He almost missed it, but it was all tainted with the memory of their breakup. The hurtful things Varian said, the things he said in return, when Varian packed his things and left with nothing more than a slam of the door. How he spent day after day waiting for a call, a text, anything that might hint at there still being a chance at salvaging their relationship, but nothing ever came, and as many times as he typed out his own apology, his finger hovered over the call button, he never had the guts to actually go through with it, so the best thing to do, the only thing to do was to move on.

“Hi.” Varian answered, his voice soft, hesitant, shaking slightly from what had to be nerves. Hugo bit his tongue fighting back the urge to both comfort him and yell at him for the things he said. Varian spoke again before Hugo could calm himself enough to address the call rationally. “I, uh, I need your help.”

This time Hugo’s breath hitched. They had worked together once upon a time, Varian knew just as much about this kind of stuff as he did, if he was asking for his help it must be pretty serious. “What did you do?” Hugo asked, not caring that his annoyance slipped into his words. Varian always seemed to push the boundaries further than he should, it was only a matter of time before it bit him in the ass, and now Hugo had to help clean up the mess.

The silence on the other side stretched out longer than it should’ve, Hugo’s patience wearing thin. He was about two seconds from just hanging up the phone when Varian spoke again, something odd in his voice, was it fear? “It’s probably best if I show you.”

Hugo pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. He didn’t really want to see Varian in person, but he had to if he wanted this case, if he wanted to get paid. “Okay.”

*******************

Two hours and a lot of cleaning later, not that there was a lot of cleaning to be done, it was mostly surface cleaning and trying to hide the peeling paint, the hole in the floor that he’d thrown a rug over, although there was nothing he could do about the terribly outdated appliances. He was just trying to make it look like his life hadn’t fallen apart the moment Varian walked out of it. A soft knock rang out through the apartment. Hugo mentally cursed himself for not changing out of his pajama bottoms and coffee stained tank top. Reluctantly he swung the door open, the creak of its hinges almost deafening, the cold air biting his exposed skin.

He felt sick, it was almost like he was looking at a ghost, ironic given his line of business, but Varian looked the same as the day he walked out. Those infuriatingly adorable front teeth sticking out from his slightly parted lips, the splash of freckles along his nose and cheeks, his dark hair sprinkled with white from the snow, that odd blue streak sticking out amongst the dark locks, and his eyes, his eyes, the same beautiful blue that he could easily get lost in, even though they had lost some of their sparkle, their wonder.

“Can I come in?” Varian asked, his voice sending shivers down Hugo’s spine. It was so different seeing him in person, hearing his voice loud and clear without the static of the phone line. The younger shaking slightly as he pulled his too big coat tighter around his frame, the patchwork on it making Hugo think it had to be a hand me down from Eugene.

“Yeah.” Hugo answered, his throat feeling unusually dry all of a sudden as he stepped out of the doorway to let Varian in. Hugo quickly shut the door before anymore warm air could escape, taking a moment to examine his ex a little more closely. He looked thinner than he already was when they were together, his ribs poking out slightly against the fabric of his shirt, he looked paler too, his dark hair only making it more evident, and then there were the dark circles underneath his eyes, it looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in six months. The more bitter part of him was happy that Varian seemed to be doing as poorly as he was, but the more compassionate side wanted to see Varian thriving, doing better without him, to come back stronger.

“Nice place.” Varian said, startling Hugo out of his thoughts, his eyes narrowing at the comment. Although he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a jab or not, Varian’s tone even and neutral.

“Thanks.” Hugo replied flatly. His eyes momentarily locked with Varian’s, something flashing across Varian’s face before he shook his head, settling in the seat across from Hugo’s. Hugo frowned, taking his seat and pulling out a notebook to write on. “So, why does the great Varian need my help?”

“Can we please not do this?” Varian said with a roll of his eyes. He was hunched in on himself, defensive, nervous, spooked even, Hugo refused to believe it was solely from having to come to him.

But ever the asshole he was Hugo feigned innocence, curious as to how far he could push Varian’s buttons. How much did he actually need his help? “Do what?”

“Thi- never mind.” Varian sighed in defeat, slumping back in his chair, eyes closing for a brief second. He looked downright exhausted, guilt welling in Hugo’s chest at trying to push him. “You know the castle my dad was hired to renovate?”

“No shit. I’ve been trying to get in there for years.” Hugo said. He remembered Varian showing him the blueprints he sketched just a few weeks before their breakup, he was surprised they hadn’t started renovating yet. The castle was a major tourist attraction, and it was rumored to have supernatural activity through the roof. Hugo had never gotten to see it though, the castle had been closed to the public for the past five years, which just so happened to be when he moved to New Saporia. There had been a tragic accident at the castle, the public was told, someone died and it needed to be shut down. However it seemed that time was coming to an end. He knew the tourist industry had taken quite the hit when the castle shut down even though the main island was still open, the castle had been the main attraction.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. A few of the workers complained about some odd activity and my dad asked me if I could check it out and, well-“ Hugo raised an eyebrow at Varian’s unexpected pause, the younger rolling up the sleeve of his jacket and presenting his arm.

“Shit.” Hugo mumbled underneath his breath, his fingers ghosting over the angry red mark on Varian’s forearm, a crudely drawn Coronan sun etched into his skin by what he assumed to be a nail. It was strangely warm to the touch, almost as if he were sticking his fingers close to a flame. There was only one way he could’ve gotten that mark, only one spirit that was known for using the last symbol of the Coronan reign. “Varian, what did you do?”

“I summoned the Princess.”

Hugo’s breath caught in his throat, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was no wonder Varian needed his help, this was way out of his league, hell it was way out of Hugo’s league. There were books, a shit ton of books, on the history, the legends, of the last princess of Corona. On how her life ended unexpectedly and it led to the fall of Corona, and more importantly how she never seemed able to move on from the castle, left wandering the halls waiting for her loved ones to return for all eternity. Which is why he moved here in the first place, to catch a glimpse of the Princess, if he could prove her existence he’d finally be taken seriously for once. It was a dangerous task, the few people that had supposedly gone looking for her turned up dead, all sporting the mark that Varian now had on his arm. And apparently his stupid ass ex-boyfriend had decided it was a good fucking idea to do the same.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Hugo ground out, his jaw clenched in anger, frustration, definitely not concern.

“I thought I could handle it. I thought I could help her.” Varian shot back, pulling his arm out of Hugo’s grasp.

“Help? You can’t help her! She’s a fucking ghost! This is why I always have to clean up your messes! This is why you can’t handle it!” Hugo shouted, slamming his hands down on the desk. He hadn’t even realized when he stood, but he was damn well aware of when Varian did. The chair he had been sitting in clattering to the floor, the shorter’s lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, the small twitch of his nose that happened only when he was particularly worked up over something. They were nose to nose, so close he could feel the soft puffs of Varian’s breath. It was enough to send him spiraling, forcing him to take a step back, his expression softening when he realized Varian was more than scared, he was terrified.

“Fuck off! I was just- forget it. I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Varian huffed, turning on his heel, a determined look on his face as he marched towards the door.

“Varian, wait!” Hugo protested, grabbing Varian’s arm before he could get any further. He released him immediately, a burning sensation shooting up and down his arm as soon as he came into contact with Varian’s skin. Varian pulled away as well, tugging his sleeve down, his eyes wild in fear. Hugo looked down at his hand, the tips of his fingers an angry red as if he’d touched a hot stove, but the rest of his hand fine due to the gloves he wore. He frowned at it, it was an odd effect but they could figure it out. If the Princess really had been the mythical Sundrop he supposed it made sense for her mark to burn.

“Hugo, I’m-“ Varian started, stopping himself before he could say that word, the word they both had trouble saying, because if he said it now, here, why couldn’t he say it then? When he needed to hear it.

Hugo swallowed thickly, placing a fake smile on his face as he waved his hand through the air. “Don’t sweat it, Goggles.” Hugo froze, Varian stiffening at the nickname. He hadn’t meant to say it, it was a stupid slip of the tongue, but he’d said it nonetheless. It could’ve been worse he could’ve used an actual pet name. At least Goggles he could work with. Still, it didn’t help the already awkward situation, Varian seemed more on edge, his ears tinted pink from embarrassment, anger, annoyance? He wasn’t sure which, but none of them would do him any favors. And they needed to be able to somewhat work together to figure this out.

“This was a bad idea.” Varian said finally, an odd look crossing his face as he took a step back, looking ready to run. Hugo’s stomach flipped as he was hit with the overwhelming feeling of deja vu, it was so much like that night, so much like it. Every part of his mind was screaming at him not to let Varian go again, he couldn’t lose him again, he wouldn’t let him slip through his fingers, he couldn’t, he couldn’t.

Hugo took a deep breath, it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t like that night, this was strictly business. He had to push aside personal feelings and do his fucking job. “Varian.” The name felt odd on his tongue now, bitter almost, but Varian seemed to take more kindly to it than nicknames, relaxing just the smallest amount. “I’m- let me help you. This isn’t something you can do on your own, obviously.”

He expected an argument, something to hint at that attitude that he used to love so much, but Varian simply nodded, and maybe that was the scariest of all. “Okay. I- thank you.”

*******************

Varian’s car was exactly as he remembered it. The beat up leather seats peeling, the scratch on the left side from that particularly bad accident Varian had been in last year still had yet to be patched up, the car still taking three turns of the key to actually turn on, even the passenger's seat was adjusted just the way Hugo liked it, so if he had to guess Varian hadn’t had anyone in the passenger’s seat since their breakup, or at least anyone that cared to adjust it. Hugo scrolled through the radio stations, looking for something to fill the suffocatingly awkward silence, it was an hour drive and he really didn’t want it to be miserable. Hugo froze, an eyebrow raising as he realized all the preset stations were still to the ones he liked, and he knew for a fact Varian did not like them. They always had vastly different music tastes, usually sticking to instrumental music when they were working on projects together.

“I haven’t had time to change them.” Varian said, casting a sideways glance at Hugo, his shoulders tense.

“Naturally.” Hugo said, settling on a station and sitting back in his seat, eyes focused on the passing buildings.

“I’ve been busy.” Varian explained, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“I believe you.” He didn’t.

**********************

“We’re here.” Came Varian’s soft voice, Hugo jolting awake.

“Fuck.” Hugo mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A lot of good that coffee did. Hugo unbuckled his seatbelt, scrambling out of the car, Varian already out and unlocking the gate that surrounded the island.

“We’ll have to walk to the castle.” Varian said, pushing the gate open. Hugo nodded, grabbing his equipment from the backseat. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

Hugo frowned at that, pulling his bag closer, the chill of the night air sending shivers down his spine, or perhaps it was something else. “I’d like to be on the safe side.”

“Suit yourself.” Varian shrugged, gesturing for Hugo to follow him to the other side of the gate, locking it behind them, a strange feeling washing over Hugo. For better or for worse things were going to be drastically different once they left.

The walk to the castle was just as quiet as the car ride, perhaps more so. There was something bone chilling about the empty streets at night, just the two of them, the echoing of their shoes on the cobblestone, and the white puffs of air in front of them. It stopped when they got to the castle. Usually spirits gave off a colder aura, but it was strangely warm the closer they got to the castle, Hugo even shedding his winter coat by the time they reached it.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” Hugo groaned, trailing behind Varian as he led them into the castle, their flashlights their only guide.

“You’ll see.” Varian said, his eyes darkening. He had opted to keep his jacket on, shivering even in the overbearing warmth of the castle. Hugo placed his jacket around Varian’s shoulders, averting his eyes as soon as it was on. Varian didn’t say anything but he could tell he was grateful by the way he pulled the jacket closer.

Something was very wrong and it was affecting Varian.

Hugo moved his flashlight around, looking at all the various paintings that lined the wall. He recognized a few from history classes, stopping briefly at the portrait of King Andrew the first ruler of New Saporia. His rule hadn’t lasted long, the man dying an untimely death somewhere in his first year of rule. There was something disturbing about the man, much of the history before the rise of New Saporia had been erased, no one but the man in the picture knowing the truth. He wondered what secrets he kept, what the truth actually was about this place. Why had Corona actually fallen?

“This way.” Varian called, Hugo tearing his eyes away from the portrait and following the sound of Varian’s voice. Varian was half sticking out of the wall, a large tapestry covering the hole in it.

“Of course there’s a secret passage.” Hugo huffed, quickly making his way inside the dark tunnel. Somehow it got hotter still. Hugo could feel the sweat starting to form on his brow, Varian shivering more intensely. He was really starting to get worried. As much as he’d claim that he hated the younger for breaking his heart he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, he didn’t want him to die.

“This is it.” Varian said, stopping in the middle of a circular room, various items lining the walls as if they had been put down here for storage. One item in particular caught Hugo’s eye, another portrait but this time of the last Princess of Corona. She sat in a chair, her parents on either side, one side torn, the other faded to time, only the Princess really recognizable. Her smile was bright and kind, her green eyes welcoming, her long blonde hair done up in an intricate braid. There was nothing that screamed wrong about her, and yet she was the source of all their current problems.

“Hello!” A female voice called, the painting suddenly lighting up as a golden transparent figure came out of it. Hugo let out a yelp, dropping his flashlight as he scrambled back, not that he needed it anymore, the whole room lighting up at the Princess’s arrival. “Oh, I see you brought a friend!”

Her laugh filled the room, bouncing off the walls in a tone that was far too high to be human. In fact she looked almost nothing like her portrait. She glowed a golden yellow from her chest, the color fading the further it moved away from the center, her hair was loose, the strands moving through the air as if she was under water, her feet not even visible, not that she needed them she hovered in the air, dangerously close to Hugo’s face. He couldn’t help but stare into those soulless golden orbs she had for eyes, her smile stretching her face too wide, her lips too thin, just the edges of her sharp teeth visible in her smile. And she was warm, so terribly warm.

“He’s not a friend.” Varian said, sounding weak. Hugo would’ve turned to look at him but he was terrified to let the Princess out of his sight.

She frowned as she tapped her nails together, her too long nails, almost as long as her fingers themselves. In fact it didn’t even look like there was a separation from her fingers and her nails. “Oh, dear.” She said, a pout forming on her face as she gave Hugo a once over, clicking her tongue in distaste before she flew over him and to Varian. “Did he hurt you?”

She floated upside down, watching Varian with a sick sort of amusement in her eyes. The gold aura pulsing in time with the mark on Varian’s arm, which was now glowing. Hugo cursed under his breath, so that was how she was killing them. She was draining their energy until they dropped dead, for what he didn’t know, but he didn’t really care to find out. Hugo swung his bag around fully intending to pull out the ghost banishing plasma gun they had developed early on in their ghost hunting careers, but a small shake of Varian’s head stopped him. Hugo froze, listening for now. He could watch wait for a better moment to blast the bitch to hell.

The Princess’s head snapped towards Hugo, the rest of her body not even moving with it, a questioning look on her face before turning back to Varian. And then she laughed, it was a different laugh than before, while it previously had an almost playful tone to it, this one only spoke of ill intent, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Every inch of his body screamed to run to leave Varian to the fate he chose, but he stayed, this time he stayed.

“He did hurt you, didn’t he?” She asked, her nails dragging along Varian’s face, his complexion getting paler still. He looked like he might drop at any second, the only thing keeping him upright being her clawed hand and her golden locks cocooning him. He watched entranced as her eyes glowed brighter, Varian’s taking on the golden hue for just a second, a gasp escaping his lips, a tear rolling down his cheek. What the fuck was happening? What the fuck was she doing? “I won’t tolerate people hurting my friends.”

In an instant it felt all the warmth was sucked from the room, leaving nothing but the biting cold air as her hair started to change from golden to pitch black. She let go of Varian and he dropped like a stone, his knees hitting the cold floor with a thunk, blood dripping from the newly acquired cuts on his face from the Princess’s sharp nails.

“Varian!” Hugo called, running towards the younger, the mark on his arm glowing a bright blue, the middle of the Princess’s chest matching. Hugo threw caution to the wind as he pulled out the gun, fully intending to put himself between the ghost and boyfri- ex, he meant ex. He didn’t get the chance, the Princess intercepting him before he could reach Varian, her soulless black eyes staring into his terrified green ones.

“Wither and decay.” Her words rolled off her tongue, her hair filling the entirety of the room, blocking Varian from his line of sight, the air draining from the room. He couldn’t breathe, as much as he tried he couldn’t get any air into his lungs, the steady drip of blood coming from his nose, it felt like his insides were being torn apart and rearranged. And if this is what he was going through he couldn’t imagine what Varian was.

“You’re the one that’s hurting him, you bitch!” Hugo shouted, pointing the gun in her direction, his finger on the trigger. He didn’t pull it faster enough, the Princess surging forward her claws digging into the flesh of his arm, the gun clattering to the floor, Hugo slamming into the nearest wall. Ice spread through his veins, his chest throbbing with the effort to breathe, to get any intake of air into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe. She smiled that wide toothy smile, all her sharp teeth on full display, her hand raised poised to strike his heart. Hugo squeezed his eyes shut as her hand soared through the air, he didn’t want to see it, he knew the pain would be unbearable, he just hoped it would be quick and Varian got out alive.

“Stop! Princess, please, stop this!” Varian shouted, and to Hugo’s surprise she had stopped, her claws just centimeters from his chest, but stopped nonetheless. She screamed, ear shattering, blood curdling, more shrill than anything he’d heard before.

“No!” She shouted, trying to move her claws closer, but she couldn’t, some invisible force holding her back. Her hair dropped to the ground, gravity affecting it in a way it hadn’t before, clearing the way enough for Hugo to see Varian standing behind her, his arm with the mark outstretched like hers was, the other holding it back, blood coating his hand as the mark freely bleed. Hugo gasped as he was suddenly able to breathe again, greedily gulping in air as the Princess put all her effort into fighting against Varian’s hold on her. “Let me go! Let me help you!”

“This isn’t helping! This isn’t his fault, I walked out, I broke his heart, I was selfish, I was stubborn, I refused to apologize. This is my fault, all my fault. So, please let him go. Please, Rapunzel.” Varian cried, tears mixing with blood as they rolled down his cheeks. Despite the situation Hugo’s heart soared, Varian still cared about him, enough to admit that he was wrong. It was almost as if a switch flipped, all the pent up rage and anger melting away into relief, happiness, at the fact that after this was over they had a chance to properly fix things.

“You called me Rapunzel.” The Princess said, her hair flickering back to gold for a second as she turned to face Varian.  

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Varian said, his voice rushed, desperate, his eyes darting between Hugo and the Princess. Hugo taking the opportunity to inch closer to the gun.

“So you remember?” Her voice was low, dangerous, deadly. Varian’s mouth opened slightly as he fumbled for words, only able to provide a shake of his head. “You remember how you tried to tear my family apart? How you tried to kill my mother? How you tried to kill me and anyone who stood in your way?! I apologized to you and still you threw my apology back in my face! Do you remember that?!”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Varian stuttered, stepping back as the Princess moved closer, her hair swirling around her again. Hugo’s fingers brushed the gun, trying desperately to get a hold of it with his slick blood coated fingers.

“Of course you don’t! But I won’t let you hurt anyone else, you don’t deserve my friendship, you don’t deserve forgiveness! Why did I have to die when someone like you got to live?!” She screeched, lunging towards Varian just as Hugo grabbed the gun and fired a shot.

He was a second too late, an inch off his mark, her claws digging deep into Varian’s chest, a strangled gasp escaping from his lips. The Princess removed her bloody claws, as Hugo forced himself to move. And for the second time that night, Varian dropped. Hugo discarded the gun, skidding on his knees to catch Varian before he hit the ground, blood already bubbling from between his lips. Hugo shook as he cradled Varian close to his chest, tears blurring his vision.

“‘M sorry.” Varian forced out, his eyes glassy, unfocused, his hand clinging tightly onto Hugo’s as his body jerked in pain.

“No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry about.” Hugo said, smoothing back Varian’s bangs. His own voice shook with tears. “I should’ve called, I should’ve gone after you, but I was scared you didn’t want me to, I was scared you didn’t love me anymore.”

“I wanted you to.” Varian said, looking like he wanted to say more but a bloody cough wracked his body. “I-I-“

“Don’t strain yourself. You need to save your strength. I’m going to get you out of here, we’re going to get out of here.” Hugo reassured, placing a shaky kiss to Varian’s knuckles. He glanced around the room looking for something to help, he wasn’t sure if he could carry Varian with his torn up arm, hell he wasn’t even sure if the Princess was still here.

“Hugh.” Hugo turned his attention back to Varian, the younger’s voice softer than he’d ever heard it before. There was something strangely peaceful in his eyes, a soft lopsided smile on his lips. “‘S okay. I love you too.”

And with one more jerk of his body Varian’s eyes went dull.

“Varian? Please, I need you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I- I can’t lose you, please don’t leave me. I love you, I love you so much.” Hugo pulled Varian’s body closer, sobbing into his shoulder. “Come back, please, come back.”

“You really did love him. Why?” The Princess asked, her feet padding against the cold stone floor for a second before she dropped to sit across from Hugo.

“Why?! You- you want to know why?” Hugo snarled, pulling Varian’s body as far away from her as possible, nothing but hurt and sadness in his green eyes. “I loved him because no matter how shitty life got, no matter how shitty people were, he always saw the bright side of things. Sure he was stubborn as hell about it, but he never let people down. He was selfless, kind, he had such a wild imagination, and his dreams, damn they were impossible, but he made you feel like anything was possible.”

“Dreams?” She repeated, testing out the word as if it were something completely foreign, something long forgotten.

“Yeah, dreams. Haven’t you ever had a dream before? ‘Cause Varian he was mine.” Hugo said, wiping a few stray tears away, not caring about the blood he smeared on his face.

“I didn’t know. I guess I spent so long here, alone, I forgot all about my dreams. Thank you, for reminding me.” The Princess said, her face softening as she stood, her teeth becoming less pointy, her smile more natural, her claws shrinking into normal fingers, her gold eyes turning a bright green, she became so much more human.

“Where are you going?” Hugo asked, watching her as she smiled at the ceiling.

“To find my new dream. I’m sure he’s out there waiting for me.” Rapunzel said, her hands clasped over her heart, her golden hair separating from her choppy brown hair. “Tell Varian I’m sorry.”

Hugo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the gold swirling around the two of them. “I don’t understand.”

Rapunzel simply smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she started to fade into the golden light. “Flower gleam and glow.”

************************

“Hugo? Hugh, are you okay?”

Hugo forced his eyes open, Varian’s blurry face coming into focus. “Hey, Sweet Cheeks.” Hugo drawled, a lopsided smile on his face.

Varian laughed, a few relieved tears rolling down his cheeks as he wrapped Hugo in a tight hug. “I was so worried about you.” He mumbled into the crook of Hugo’s neck.

“I was worried about you. You’re the one that died.” Hugo said, holding Varian as tightly as possible, for once not questioning the logic of how Varian was alive, just grateful that he was.

“What happened?” Varian asked.

“I don’t know, but I think she’s in a better place now.” Hugo answered, placing a soft kiss to the top of Varian’s head. “And I think we are too.”

“Yeah. Hugo?” Varian lifted his head, his eyes searching Hugo’s, a thoughtful look on his face. “Did you mean what you said? When you thought- when I-“

“Every damn word.” Hugo interrupted, smiling widely as he cupped Varian’s face, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’d like to give us another try.” Varian said, his smile matching Hugo’s.

“It’s going to be a hell of a lot of work. I’m not that easy to get along with.” Hugo said, stroking Varian’s cheeks, trying not to question how every injury he had acquired was now gone.

“I know.” Varian responded with a small laugh.

“Then me too.” Hugo closed the distance between them, capturing Varian’s lips in a passionate kiss. It wasn’t going to be an easy road to repair their relationship, but this time he was going to fight for it.

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Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 17: You’re A Beast, Barnes

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: All it takes for Bucky is five martinis and three tequila shots and then he’s pulling down his pants in the middle of the bathroom. Steve’s not sure whether to be worried or impressed that he’s not dead yet.

Word Count: 5,653

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut (rimming, blowjobs, public)

Masterlist

Steve awoke early that morning from restless dreams, visions that haunted him inside and outside of sleep. His mother. Peggy. Bucky. His girl.

Their girl.

He hadn’t seen her in days—not since the funeral.

Part of him seethed when he thought about it, muscles tense, fists clenched. Another part of him, however—another part of him felt broken, chest and throat tightening, skin buzzing with pain.

It was a visceral response, either way, but he was more inclined to block out the sadness in favor of rage. He had broken knuckles and a bloody lip to attest to that.

 “Time to wake up, sunshine!” Sam’s voice rang through the small Brooklyn apartment.

Steve sat up and looked around. He realized quickly that he wasn’t in his own bed—he wasn’t in a bed at all, actually, but instead on Sam’s sofa. Sam was in the kitchen, a metallic clang against plastic echoing in the living room as he shook a protein bottle around.

“What time is it?” Steve asked. He went to rub his eyes and flinched when a sharp sting spread through his skin, mixing with the dull ache of a bruise.

“Almost ten,” Sam answered. “Want a protein shake?”

“Sure,” Steve grunted and stood up, stretching out his aching limbs. He was shirtless and he could see more purple mottling on his stomach, around his ribs.

Sam handed him the protein shake and nodded to his injuries. “How ya feeling?”

“Like a truck ran me over,” Steve mumbled. He popped open the protein bottle and took a sip, cringing at the taste of watery vanilla—made with rice milk, no doubt, part of Sam’s new health kick.

Sam chuckled and went back into the kitchen. “Not a truck, no. But Rumlow wasn’t going easy on you last night.”

Steve groaned at the memory. He didn’t know if the throbbing in his head was from his hangover or his concussion.

Sam continued, “Still, man, congrats. Rumlow didn’t make it an easy win, but you managed it!”

The memories from last night flooded his mind. It wasn’t too different a night from the entire past week. There was an underground fight club they frequented in Brownsville, one that Steve participated in every so often. He hadn’t fought much for the past year—not since meeting Peggy—but now with so much built up anger and frustration over everything that had happened in the days leading up to the funeral, he needed to release his emotions somehow.

Fighting worked wonders for his excess energy.

He had fought every night that last week, and he had won every single match. Last night, he fought Brock Rumlow—one of the mobsters from Hydra, whose territory mostly spanned the other side of the Hudson despite their slow encroachment on New York City. Beating Rumlow to a pulp the previous night had not only won Steve ten grand, but it also established the dominance of the Brooklyn Mob over Hydra—informally, at least.

Steve finished off the protein shake and set the bottle on the kitchen counter.

“Feel free to take a shower, man,” Sam said, “You stink like shit and you got blood on my throw pillow.”

He glanced to the couch where his head had been resting, indeed finding dark brown stains of dried blood on the square pillow there. “Right. Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll just—” Steve motioned to the bathroom and got on his way.

“And Buck’s gonna be here in a few. We’re going out to breakfast—wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve mumbled, then shut himself behind the bathroom door. As he showered, wincing from the hot water running through the cuts on his face, he readied himself for Bucky’s arrival.

Things were tense between the two men since Y/N had decided to leave. Bucky wasn’t doing well with it—eating his feelings and drinking away the pain at night. He knew Bucky blamed him, and he knew he was falling back into old habits like drinking and partying. Not that Steve was doing much better. He drank just as much, his smoking had doubled, and of course the bruising on his face spoke for itself.

But he didn’t know what to do, or why he felt this way. The past year when he had been staying away from Y/N, focusing instead on the mob and Peggy—that had been fine. He had been fine.

But now…

He ran his hands down his face, rubbing soap into the lacerations until it burned so bad, the pain was all he could think of.

When he got out, he dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that Sam had left out for him before slicking his hair back to the best of his ability and running his knuckles against his jaw. He was getting a little scruffy, not having shaved for a few days, but the hair did a little bit to hide the bruising on his jaw and the cut on his chin from his fight two nights ago with one tough bastard named Wade Wilson.

As he entered the living room, he saw Bucky and Natasha sitting on the couch with Sam.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted his friend with a clap on the shoulder, pretending not to notice when he shied away. “Nat. Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Buck stayed at my place last night so he invited me.”

“Oh.” Steve didn’t know what Bucky was up to lately, but now he wondered if he was back with Natasha… But Natasha was with the Maximoff girl… Right?

“You look like shit,” Bucky commented dryly.

“Yeah, Rogers, what happened?” Natasha asked, a smirk playing on her red lips.

When Steve ignored her, Sam answered, “He dragged Brock Rumlow across the ring last night.”

“Brownsville?” Bucky asked, turning in his seat to look at Steve, brows furrowing as he took in Steve’s full appearance, bruises, cuts, and all.

“Yeah,” Steve grunted, putting on his sneakers. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about it—not before a cup of coffee, at least. “Can we go now? I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long to walk to Coulson’s, only a few blocks down. The diner was a staple for them—they had been going there since high school for late night burgers and milkshakes, and Bucky realized that despite all of the stress from the last few weeks, his and Steve’s tumultuous relations with Y/N, some things never change.

He had to admit his annoyance and anger with Steve and how they had handled everything. Bucky didn’t think he himself was blameless—he acknowledged his own part, not supporting their girl enough, not being perceptive enough to realize how she was suffering. He wouldn’t apologize for punishing her when she deserved it, but he was sorry for everything else.

It was driving him crazy. He wished he could tell her this—beg for forgiveness—but he didn’t know how.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake,” Bucky said, looking over the menu. “And a BLT. And fries.”

Sam raised his eyebrows from across the table. “That all?”

“I’ll have a side salad, too. Dressing on the side.”

“You’re a beast, Barnes.”

Steve stayed silent through the exchange, only speaking to order a breakfast spread and a coffee. He remained as such throughout most of breakfast, even as the others made conversation; how Sam’s latest fling with a girl from the Bronx was going, the latest Giants game, and construction for the Manhattan location of the Widow’s Web. Only once Steve had finished his first cup of coffee did he speak at all.

After Natasha mentioned her relationship with Wanda, Steve asked, “She’s still working at the Web?”

Natasha nodded, eyes lighting up with amusement as if she could see where Steve’s train of thought was going. She was always able to see through him like he was made of plastic wrap. “Yeah, but it’s a pain for her to commute now that she moved into their new apartment.”

“Where is their apartment?” he asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

She scoffed, but the smirk on her lips told him she wasn’t annoyed with his query. “I don’t know if I should tell you, Rogers. I’m perfectly aware of how Y/N broke up with you—”

“She didn’t break up with me—”

One of her perfectly groomed eyebrows arched so high Steve thought it might detach from her forehead. “Oh? Well it sure seems like it.”

His voice strained with effort as he resisted the urge to yell at her, or punch something, or flip the table. He was working hard on not making scenes in public. “I’m not asking for the address. Just making conversation.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Right. Well it’s not too far from the university. Wanda said they can walk to class.”

“Classes have started already?” Bucky asked, eager to smooth over the tension still radiating from Steve.

“Yep,” Natasha popped her lips, that sly grin coming back. “And don’t ask me what classes your girl is taking—I have no idea about her.”

Steve rolled his eyes and mumbled into his coffee mug, “She’s not our girl…”

“Not anymore she’s not.”

“Nat.” Bucky sent her a look, not mean, but stern and exasperated as she tried to rile Steve up further. “Knock it off.”

 Steve looked at Bucky then, really looked at him—for probably the first time that entire morning. He took in the tight t-shirt Bucky wore, straining against his chest, the sleeves rolled up on his thick biceps. The man in front of him—the man he had known his entire life, who he had grown up with, who he had seen blossom from an awkward teenager into this beautiful man.

It wasn’t hard for Steve to admit that he missed him.

So things had been tense between them—Steve knew Bucky was mad at him, and Steve’s mood was rarely much better—but Steve missed Bucky. He knew Bucky would come around eventually. Not many things could get between their years of friendship.

Bucky held his gaze, wondering what Steve was thinking—and then Steve’s lips quirked up in a smirk behind his mug, his eyes sparkling with something suddenly.

Oh.

Well, Bucky was still a little pissed off, but he could work with that.

He was never good at holding a grudge, anyways.

Maintaining eye contact still, Bucky picked up his milkshake and wrapped his lips around the straw, taking a long sip and letting Steve observe the pucker of his red lips, the hollow of his cheeks as he sucked.

Steve licked his lips, mouth parted for a moment, entranced at the display, but their attention was diverted as the food arrived.

As Bucky started on his BLT, Natasha asked, “Buck, you coming to the party tonight?”

Bucky nodded, mouth full, and Steve asked, “What party?”

“A rave in East Village. Wanna come?”

Bucky swallowed and looked at Steve again—Steve, who was looking back at Bucky in an almost challenging way.

“Sure,” Steve said, surprising Bucky. “I’ll come.”

“Don’t need to go defend your title in Brownsville?” Bucky asked. Part of him still wanted to be angry at Steve. However, another part was excited for Steve to go tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time they had gone out together—it was before Y/N, maybe even before Peggy. Not that Bucky had been partying much the last few years after he got clean, but he was excited still. They could fool around like they used to, and it would be like old times.

Steve shrugged. “I think I’m done fighting. For now.”

Bucky snorted, but grinned at his friend. “You’re never done fighting, Stevie.”

 It was later that night, almost midnight, when Steve saw Bucky outside of the nightclub in Manhattan, and he almost had an aneurysm at what he was wearing. A skintight silk button down shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, matched with the tightest jeans he owned. His hair was down, long at his shoulders, a piece braided in the front. Red lips slick with spit, skin a little shiny, it was clear that Bucky had already pre-gamed earlier with Natasha.

As they stood behind Natasha, who was whispering to the bouncer, saying some sort of magic words to gain them entry, Bucky slung his arm low around Steve’s waist, swaying on his feet a little.

Steve slid his arm around Bucky to steady him, and his body tingled at the feeling of Bucky’s slimmer frame against him. He had always loved being able to support Bucky like this, hold him up when he was drunk. Steve was always the skinnier one growing up until they finished high school and then somehow he grew taller and filled out.

Bucky always said he loved Steve either way, and he was the only one to love him when he was tiny.

“How much have you had to drink?” Steve murmured to him, voice a soft growl close to Bucky’s ear.

Bucky shuddered, his shoulders vibrating under Steve’s arm. “Maybe one or two martinis at the Widow’s Web.”

“One or two?”

“Or five.” Bucky shrugged. “You know me.”

“Yeah I do. All too well…” Steve trailed off as the bouncer ushered them inside.

It was packed, lights flashing green and blue. Streamers, bubbles, and glitter floated around in the air, giving the sense of being underwater. Go-go dancers stood around the crowd on pedestals, dressed in clamshell bras and tight scaly skirts. Heavy electronic music played, and Natasha led the boys through the throng of dancers up to the bar. She managed to get them drinks relatively quickly—even though the bar was crowded with people, the bartender seemed to recognize her and got her order together pretty quickly.

She got them all shots of tequila. Steve cringed at the taste; it reminded him of the last time he had drank tequila and the bad decisions that had come with it.

After two more tequila shots, Natasha was pulled away by somebody she knew, and then Steve felt Bucky tugging at his waist.

“Come dance, Stevie!”

Steve had no chance to respond before Bucky was pulling him onto the dancefloor, expertly weaving through the crowd and then grinding his ass against Steve.

Well, Steve wasn’t going to protest.

He hadn’t gotten off since before the funeral, and he hadn’t fucked Bucky in much longer, and he was getting that craving again. Bucky was always the perfect sub for him. Something Steve admired about Bucky was his ability to switch between roles so well.

Another thing Steve admired about Bucky was his tight little ass, which Bucky was grinding against Steve’s half-hard cock like he was being paid for it.

Steve’s hands settled on Bucky’s hips, gripping tightly and moving them as he pleased. Bucky’s back was pressed tight to Steve’s chest, and Steve’s lips skimmed his ear, his neck, his jaw, where he nipped harshly at the bone, eliciting a deep groan from Bucky that rumbled through Steve’s chest.

After a few songs, the tequila started to kick in, and Steve felt bolder. His hands wandered up and down Bucky’s sides, his chest, skimming across soft bare skin juxtaposed by coarse black chest hair. He took a handful of Bucky’s pec, squeezing, slipping underneath his soft shirt and pinching at his nipple.

“Missed you, Buck,” Steve groaned in response to Bucky’s breathy whimper.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped as the man behind him brought his other hand to cup Bucky’s growing erection through painfully tight denim. His hands worked Bucky’s chest and cock in tandem until Bucky was shuddering and shaking, turning around to face Steve. “C’mere—” Bucky muttered before crushing his lips to Steve’s.

The kiss was deep and filthy, tongues dragging against tongue and teeth, lips sucking apart with lewd sounds drowned out by the music. Their bodies gyrated against each other to the beat, Steve’s hands gripping Bucky’s ass in a bruising hold, keeping their cocks pressed against each other through two layers of denim. Bucky fisted Steve’s hair, ran his hands down Steve’s neck and back and then tucked up underneath his shirt, lying flat against heated skin, damp with sweat.

Steve sucked a bruise into Bucky’s neck, all teeth and harsh sucks, while Bucky ran his nails down Steve’s shoulders.

“Want you,” Steve breathed into Bucky’s ear.

“Then take me.”

Without any warning, Steve led them to the men’s room, shoving Bucky into a stall and dropping to his knees. His hands worked Bucky’s jeans off quickly, pulling them down his thick thighs.

“No underwear, Buck?” Steve smirked up at him. “Feeling hopeful tonight?”

Bucky snorted. “The way you were eyeing me at the diner earlier told me all I needed to know about how things would go tonight, Rogers. You’re not as slick as you—oh, God—” His insults were cut off as Steve suddenly took Bucky’s entire cock into his mouth, down to the root, nose buried in Bucky’s shaved pubic hair.

Another thing Steve admired about Bucky was that Bucky kept everything so soft and smooth down here. It made giving head a downright joy.

“Oh, Stevie, please, yes—” Bucky gargled, slanting his fingers through Steve’s hair and holding him there.

Steve pulled back and dipped his head down, licking down his long shaft, tonguing the join between his cock and balls, and then running his tongue all over his balls until they were dripping spit. Steve sucked one into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue as Bucky chanted pleas and praise, mind lost at the feeling of Steve’s mouth on his most sensitive area.

Maneuvering their bodies so Bucky was leaning against the stall wall, Steve encouraged Bucky to spread his legs as much as possible with the restraint of his jeans around his thighs, even yanking his pants further down to get Bucky’s legs as wide as they could go in this dirty club bathroom. Then, Steve dove in, starting again at Bucky’s balls, sucking and tonguing them, and then licking back around to Bucky’s taint and burying his face as far as he could between Bucky’s legs to lick at the rosebud between his cheeks.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky gasped raggedly, holding Steve’s hair with both hands and shoving.

It was an incredibly awkward position for Steve, face shoved into Bucky’s balls, mouth desperately trying to reach his asshole, chin absolutely soaked in saliva. One hand pumped Bucky’s cock and the other gripped his ass cheek, kneading and spreading them.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” Bucky canted his hips forward, trying to get more of Steve’s mouth on him. “More, Stevie, please—more—”

Steve pulled away, grinning at Bucky’s disgruntled whine. After a sharp smack to Bucky’s ass, he shoved at his hips. “Turn around and bend over, baby.” His voice was so rough and gravelly it made Bucky shiver.

Bucky obliged quickly, and Steve wasted no time in spreading Bucky’s ass and placing the width of his tongue over Bucky’s little pink asshole, letting the split that had collected in his mouth drip down his tongue and over Bucky’s rim and down his perineum, coating his balls in slick saliva.

Once Bucky’s hole was wet enough, Steve put his mouth fully over the puckered flesh, sucking at the rim hard. Bucky cried out, shoving his ass back into Steve’s face and reaching down to slowly stroke his own cock.

Next, Steve straightened his tongue and slowly breached Bucky’s entrance, letting Bucky’s flesh tense and relax around him. Meanwhile, Bucky kept up a string of pleas and cries, begging Steve for anything and everything.

“So good, Stevie, so fucking good—God—fuck!” Bucky growled. “Yesyesyes—please, Stevie—more—want your fingers—”

Steve could never deny Bucky.

Retracting his mouth, he sucked one finger into his mouth and covered it until it was dripping wet, then slowly entered Bucky’s hole, glistening with spit in the dim fluorescent light of the bathroom.

“You like that, baby?” Steve asked as he started fucking Bucky with his finger. “You like me licking out this sloppy little hole?”

“Steve—yes—fuck—”

“You like me eating you out on this dirty bathroom floor? You’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you, Buck?”

“Yes, yes, please—”

“You’re filthy, baby—fucking filthy for me—all for me, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie, only for you—please let me come—”

“Come for me, sweetheart—that’s right—” Steve leaned forward and licked around the finger pumping in and out of Bucky’s ass, reaching his other hand around to play with Bucky’s balls until he could feel them drawing up against his body. Bucky let out a few little moans, breathless and sweet, and then Steve felt the other man’s release dripping down onto his hand.

Bucky leaned against the stall, pressing his face against the cool metal, while Steve took away his finger and gave a few soft licks to Bucky’s rim. Then he stood up and slotted himself behind Bucky, kissing up and down his neck, sweeter and softer than he had any right to be after the depraved words he spoke.

Bucky slowly turned around, a little shaky on his feet and a little awkward with his pants still down. They kissed, sloppy and hot, until Bucky reached for Steve’s erection.

Steve stopped him with his hand that wasn’t covered in come. “I want to take you back home. Wanna come in your ass.”

Bucky groaned low in his throat and nodded, mouthing at Steve’s cheek and jaw. “Want that—yes—please, Steve—”

Steve chuckled and pulled away. He locked eyes with Bucky, keeping eye contact as he brought his hand up and licked the come off his fingers, sucking them into his mouth one at a time. “You always taste so good, Buck.”

He offered some to Bucky, and he took his fingers in between his plump red lips and sucked all of his own cream off, not blinking once as he worked.

Once they were cleaned up, Steve helped Bucky put his pants back on, and then kissed him once more. “Let’s go home.”

Later that night, as they cuddled in Bucky’s bed, Steve’s come still leaking out of Bucky’s ass, Bucky murmured into Steve’s shoulder. “We gotta get her back, Stevie.”

Steve sighed. He had thought the same thing a hundred times in the past week alone. “I know… But how?”

“I don’t know… But we have to figure it out.”

 “Wait, wait—” Wanda grunted in the middle of the stairwell, between the fourth and fifth floors. “Wait! I said wait!”

All the girls around the dresser groaned. Two on one end and two on the other, Kate in the middle doing her best to keep the piece of furniture together, the girls paused their hefting and heaving at Wanda’s demand.

They had found the dresser on the curb two blocks down and had come too far to give up now—especially when dressers this size would usually cost upwards of three hundred dollars, more money than any of them had put together.

But moving furniture was never easy, not when the elevator was broken and they lived on the top floor.

“What?” Kate snapped, poking her knee forward to stop one of the dresser drawers from sliding out and falling through the stair rail and down four and a half floors. “Why are we stopping?”

A petulant whine came from Wanda’s throat. “I need a break!”

“Oh my God!” America moaned, “We’re almost there!”

“We’re only halfway there!” Wanda protested, gently setting the dresser down on the landing. “This thing is fucking heavy!”

“Are you seriously doing this?” Y/N asked, stationed right beside Wanda. She adjusted her grip on the dresser so it wouldn’t fall down and squash Kamala and America.

“I have no endurance, okay?”

“At least she admits it,” America muttered, and the girls huffed a laugh, too out of breath for much else.

Kamala groaned “We need to speed this along! I have a meeting with my advisor in forty minutes.”

“For what?” America asked.

“Changing some classes to fit my major.”

“What’s your major?” Y/N asked. She hadn’t yet gotten to know the other girls very well, only having lived with them for about a week. Classes were about to start and she was nervous enough—she hadn’t even thought about a major yet. It seemed like every time she turned a corner, there was another thing she was behind on.

And the list was mounting—she hadn’t done her FAFSA, hadn’t signed up to the bill sharing website they needed for utilities, hadn’t bought the required textbooks for her classes. She had only picked her classes a few days prior—and the pickings were slim so close to the start of the semester. The four classes she chose included a seminar, a class about ancient history, a chemistry course, and an introductory art class as an elective. While trying to find classes, she realized she knew almost nothing about anything, so she decided to try a well-rounded schedule of courses this semester to try and figure out what exactly she wanted to do with her life.

“I’m film,” Kamala said.

“What about you guys?” Y/N asked.

“I’m doing theater,” America said, “But after I graduate I’m going to law school.”

Kate said, “I’m doing engineering. I’m torn between chemical engineering, electrical engineering, and mechanical engineering.”

Wanda added, “I’m doing business. My dad wants me to take over the liquor business one day, so I guess I’m getting ready for that.”

 Y/N hadn’t even thought about graduation or anything after that. She couldn’t fathom the work that went into engineering, or law, or business, or getting a job, or—

“What about you?” Kate asked her.

“I’m undecided,” she shrugged. “I don’t really know what I want to do yet.”

Wanda smiled at her and nudged her with her knee. “You have plenty of time to figure it out.” She smiled back, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach, a suspicion that she wasn’t good enough or smart enough, inadequate in so many ways.

Did she even deserve to go to NYU? Was this truly the right place for her?

Or was her purpose in life to serve the mob, as her parents had told her all her life?

Kamala grunted, lifting the dresser again. “Can we get going? I don’t want to be late.”

They all started lifting together, grunting and groaning in turn, when a familiar voice called from the bottom of the stairwell.

“You girls need help?”

“Ouch!” Wanda yelped as Y/N stumbled and almost dropped the dresser on her foot. The blood left her face and she started to sweat—and not from the physical exertion.

Bucky’s face appeared on the other end of the dresser, taking the load off of Kamala and America. “Here, you girls get the sides.”

Y/N remained silent as Bucky directed them up the rest of the stairs, carrying most of the weight of the dresser and helping America position it in her room.

“There ya go,” he breathed, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Thank you so much!” America said, a wide grin on her face. “I mean, we could’ve done it without you, but I probably would’ve ended up punching Wanda in the face with all her whining.”

“Hey!” Wanda frowned, smacking America lightly on the arm.

Bucky chuckled. “Anything for one of Y/N’s friends.”

The three girls who knew nothing of Bucky turned to face Y/N, shocked.

Kate asked, “You know him?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Kamala asked.

Her response was an awkward chuckle. “Well I was trying not to drop the dresser… So…” She hadn’t looked at Bucky once since they got into the apartment, pointedly avoiding eye contact with him now as he stared at her.

It was his first time seeing her in a few weeks, and his heart leapt at the sight—she looked good, really good. Hair shiny, skin glowing, nails painted bright red. She wore high waisted shorts that showed off just the slightest hint of her ass, and a skintight off-the-shoulder top.

Bucky missed her, but he had to admit, if this is how she was dressing now, maybe college was the right decision for her.

“Why don’t you show me around, sweetheart?”

Y/N glared at him; however, he knew she wouldn’t say anything against him—hoped, at least, that there still might be something left of their obedient little doll. Still, she hesitated, worry on her face behind her anger.

Wanda touched her arm. “I’ll keep an ear out.”

She sent Wanda a grateful look and turned to leave the room. As they left, Wanda whispered to the other girls, “He’s her ex-boyfriend. Total asshole.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at that but paid close attention to the girl in front of him as she showed him the living room and kitchen. He noticed they seemed to have no space for anything, boxes all over the place, counters cluttered with pots and pans. That was run of the mill for a Manhattan apartment, but he was sure it was a pain in the ass.

He followed along as she pointed out each bedroom in the hallway. “And this one’s mine,” she said shortly, stopping in front of the closed door at the end. She made no move to open it.

“You gonna show me inside?”

“No.”

He chuckled, delighted at her fiery attitude. He could deal with the brattiness as long as she was actually speaking to him. “C’mon, sweetheart. I swear I won’t try anything. We’ll leave the door open.”

The way he looked at her with eyes so earnest, big and blue and pleading—it weakened her resolve. She considered it for a moment and then looked away from him, chewing on her lip, suddenly a little shy. “It’s really small. Nothing fancy.”

“Darling, I just wanna see it. I don’t care how it looks.” He brushed past her and took hold of the doorknob, letting himself inside.

Small was an understatement. Her queen-sized bed took up half the space, and the rest of it was filled with boxes. The walls were drab—greying white, holes in the drywall everywhere. Clothes littered her bed and the desk chair from her old room that was shoved into a corner between the wall and the bed.

She weaved her way through the boxes and plopped on the bed, leaning back on her hands and staring up at him. “I don’t have room for a dresser. And I don’t have closet space. So…” Her sentence finished with a shrug.

“Aw, honey…” He frowned, surveying the space, mind working with how he could help. “Maybe I can build you some shelves. Hang ‘em up right here, and here,” he pointed to a few spaces on the walls. “I could put hooks or racks in them so you can hang your clothes.”

Her mouth twitched. “You don’t have to do that. Really, it’s fine.”

“I want to. It’s the least I can do, after…”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she asked, “How did you get my address?”

“Natasha told me.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know about the extent of his and Steve’s scheming over the past two weeks.

“Why did you come here?”

He pulled his backpack off, and that was when she noticed it wasn’t his backpack, it was hers. It was the one she had packed for the few days before her dad’s funeral, when she was staying at the boys’ apartment. She had left her things there and completely forgotten about it until now.

“You left this stuff at our place. I wanted to return it.”

“…Oh.”

“And I wanted to check on you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Her lips seemed to waver between a smile and a frown, pink and glossy, just like when he first kissed her at her birthday party. He kept his distance, not trusting himself if he was too close to her, and definitely not here, in her room, which smelled like her, like sweet flowers and vanilla.

“When do classes start?”

“Next week.”

“What’s your schedule like?” She hesitated, looking at him with an untrusting, wary expression. He sighed, holding up his hands in innocence. “Just so I know when to come and install the shelves.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, but she relented. “I have classes every day in the mornings and swim practice every afternoon. I’m looking for a job too but I don’t have anything yet. You can come next weekend.”

He smiled at her, that bright, happy grin that lit up her childhood. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

He turned to leave, and before she could stop herself, she scrambled off the bed and grabbed his wrist before he could go. “That was it? That’s all you came for?”

Looking down at her, he nodded, schooling his expression into one of honesty and concern, which was exceptionally difficult when all he felt was hunger for her. “Yeah—what were you thinking?”

Quickly, she let go of his hand. He immediately missed the feeling of her soft skin on his. “I don’t know.”

He smiled again and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. God, how was she so soft? “You seem happy, darling. And I want you to know I’m proud of you for making it here, making it to NYU. You seem to be doing well.”

She paused, then nodded. “I am.”

“Good.”

And with that, he gave her bare shoulder a squeeze and left the room without another word. She stood still, shocked for a moment, focusing entirely on the tingling feeling where his hand touched her shoulder, wondering why her skin was breaking into goosebumps just from a simple, innocent touch. 

[believerindaydreams]

I was not expecting to channel Tuco Ramirez energies into a young pregnant hatmaker but Carla has very promptly become the sardonic loveable glue in this ongoing ball of poly!energies

This'll all show up on a03, properly edited. Eventually.

Into the fire, part 3

"He's scared stiff," Carla says, looking at Arcade sleep. "I mean, literally stiff. Look at how tightly his hands are clenched."

She fluffs a pillow to put under his head and I'm falling in love with her all over again, just to see her. That calm, sure way she moves, the sparkle of earrings she ground herself from broken beer bottles. Utter self-confidence wrapped in a hand-knit shawl.

"He's not as important as you. Nobody could be."

She snorts. It's cute. "You keep thinking you need to surrender something for me. That's not true and it never has been."

"Might be this time. Uh- we weren't planning to stay in the Mojave. What with him both of us being marked by Legion assassins, a friend of ours was gonna help us get out."

"Ooh. Friend friend, or-" She gestures, disgracefully. Makes me bark with laughter.

"No. Dyed in the wool lesbian. On the outs with the Brotherhood...she says she can get us cross-country. I don't know if it's by Vertibird or what, but if she says she can do it, she can."

"Are you sure she's trustworthy?" Hell, just the way she wrinkles her nose half kills me. Manny used to tease me about the way I'd keep on about her.

That was before he met her, though. "Yeah. If she wanted us dead, she had plenty of chances she didn't take. And we didn't tell her anything about...you know."

"I still say we need a better way to refer to that." A big smile appears. "Maybe we could say baby names. That's personal but not strange in a conversation."

I run my hands along the inviting bump of dress; she's pretty far along now. "What happens when the baby's born, though?"

"We can say we're planning for the next one." She laughs, pins my arms back in a bear hug; and I don't mind a bit. "But hey. If you were planning to go, let's go. God knows I'm hardly stuck on this two-bit town."

Whatever that means. Her Vault had some funny expressions. "I'd like to say it'd be safer to stay put...but honestly, it wouldn't be. Not while I'm still here."

"And I am not letting you wander off without me," Carla says, cupping my chin in her hands. "Bad things will happen. I want you where I can see you."

"...okay. Then I guess we'd better pack. Your sewing machine is under the bed."

"Not anymore," Carla says, tapping a footlocker with her bare toes. "Manny fetched it for me, all the way to Arizona and back."

"Guess I wasn't up to much compared to him, was I."

"Listen," Carla says, her small face suddenly turning intensely serious. "You're here, I'm here, Manny is here. And your new boyfriend. We're all alive, that's what matters."

She makes me blush, sometimes; and it doesn't help when Manny comes out of the bath, drying his hair with a towel and butt naked otherwise.

"Damn. Your Arcade looks cute curled up like that."

"He says it's a habit. Bedrolls aren't ever long enough for him."

"I can fix that with my magic sewing machine," Carla says, grinning dryly. "And I'll make him a hat. That's an important order of business."

"Don't know what I did, to deserve you two...look. You're sure you're okay, him coming along?"

"Would you be here if he hadn't helped you?"

"...no."

"Then let's bring him," Carla says conclusively.

"If it's good enough for your wife," Manny says with a wink, "it's good enough for me. Besides. That ass."

"Definitely one of the more shapely asses populating this wasteland," Carla agrees, straight faced.

"Fuck...you two don't talk about me that way when I'm asleep, do you?"

Manny gives me a patient look. "Don't be stupid, Boone."

"Huh."

"Of course we do."

***

It's ridiculously late by the time Arcade wakes up; and he has a pretty good idea why. There's a part of him that never quite feels safe falling asleep, without the hum of conversation and a trustworthy guard around; and he hasn't really had that since the Old Mormon Fort.

(Avoided going places for exactly that reason, if he's being honest. He's still never seen the Strip.)

He looks at the Sierra armor, frowns, puts on light doctor fatigues instead. It's hot already, that's a fair excuse.

Manny's asleep on a spare mattress, but there's no sign of the other two. He heads out and finds Carla cooking at the motel campfire, a tired Boone besides her.

"Oh good," she says when he approaches, poking her husband. "Boone, go to bed. Someone else is here to play bodyguard."

"Mmm...'s Manny?"

"No, it's Arcade. Go to bed."

He grunts and goes, slightly to Arcade's surprise. Carla looks after him fondly.

"They always were a little paranoid, even when we thought Novac was safe. And it wasn't really good for them, being on opposite shifts...they missed each other." She shoves beans around in a cast iron pan, takes the lid off a milk crate filled with tortillas. "Would you enjoy a burrito for breakfast? Or I can just give you some caps to buy from Cliff, if pre-war food's more your thing."

Right. After being taken as a slave and then dumped into a pre-war casino he is in fact broke right now, at least until he and Boone split the pre-war money stashed in the room. "Burritos sound fine. Trust me, you don't have the luxury of choosiness at the Old Mormon Fort, it's too chaotic."

"Sounds terrible. But then I'm a luxury hatmaker and I enjoy what I do, I'm probably the last person who'd understand charitable impulses." She places a tortilla on a grill to warm. "It did seem simpler in the vault, when we used lotteries and left morality out of it...my other vices include overpacking, an impatience with village idiots who think that three cornfields equal New Vegas, and I will bite you if you hurt Boone or Manny. Hard. Just getting that out of the way upfront."

"Ah." He's been expecting something like this conversation, but had rather expected he'd have to go first. "Um. I'm a poor liar, despite being privy to more secrets than I ever wanted to know. I seem to have mislaid an inherent pacifism in favor of wanting to shoot any Legionary I see, which despite Boone's opinion I can't really see as an improvement. And despite my ostensible position with the Followers, my medical capabilities leave almost as much to be desired as my bedside manner."

"You seemed to handle it well when my husband passed out."

"Battlefield medicine is one of the things I can do, yes. Along with making broc flowers grow anywhere and boiling homemade bagels."

" ...actual bagels? You're hired. Damn shame no NCR caravan imports lox yet, Boone took me to Shady Sands for our honeymoon and that's the only time I've had it...do you want to make bagels? Do you need ingredients?"

"Uh. I would need to buy a few things, yes, and it would take time to grow a new culture." He thinks with a mild pang of the last sourdough he had going, left unattended in a Followers tent. Hopefully someone found it before it started to smell. "What I mostly did for the Followers was garden, actually. We've figured out ways to emulate stimpaks with herbs, but they always put the subject in a fever, and there are ailments that's contra-indicated for. And of course nobody wants that on a battlefield...except the Legion, apparently, they don't seem to care."

"A crafter rather than a soldier. I'm not outnumbered anymore, that's great news." She has buck teeth and it shows when she smiles. "Honestly, I've had to become a regular Crusoe just because the boys aren't. Want them to turn any kind of ammunition into any other kind, they'll do that for you. Anything else, it's strictly DIY." She forks a piping hot burrito onto a plate, hands it to him. "There's sour yoghurt in the fridge if you prefer topping."

"Mmm...this is fine." Better than fine, actually, there's grilled iguana in the mix and a hint of jalapeno. "You've read Crusoe?"

"Oh, we had education machines in the vault, they worked great. Mr Gutsy reading your ABCs to you and blasting radroaches...we were happy." She starts on her own burrito, looking a little pensive. "I'll never forgive Mr House for that, never. Half the kids my age ended up in the Gomorrah turning tricks for sleazeballs, a lot of the others signed up for the NCR and died right away at Hoover Dam...there was a rumor going around," Carla says, a little vicious now. "That House cut a deal with the NCR, so many warm bodies in exchange for not appropriating the Strip. I'd believe it, but then I'd believe anything of the bastard."

Arcade nods, mentally notes one more vice: Carla, for all her sunny disposition, certainly can hold a grudge.

But then, she is Boone's wife; not entirely surprising. "So you got to Novac and hoped it would be home sweet home?"

"If such a place exists, it isn't here," Carla says; and violently pokes out the fire.

[canumoveurseatup-no]

not you

summary: bucky wasn’t supposed to be the one to hurt you. not like this.

word count: 3k (no keep reading tab, did this on mobile, sorry)

pairing: bucky barnes x black!stark!reader

warnings: bitch it’s aaaaannngst- it jumps RIGHT in. (IW and EG didn’t happen)

———

You don’t know how the video popped up. You were searching on your dad’s computer, looking for a specific file that he told you to look for. You clicked a bunch of folders until one came up and played a video-

A lonely dark road and a car simply driving on it until you realize it was your grandparent’s car, Tony always talked about that car. Your dad didn’t keep their gruesome death away from you. You never knew who killed them, no one did. But the video displayed who perfectly. You didn’t want to believe it- but this video was so clear a-and it made sense.

You scooted back in the roller chair and grasped your chest in pain. You weren’t sure what emotion to focus on. You were livid, hurt- you wanted to scream, fight, something.

Your feet carried you before your mind could process where you going and you found yourself in the kitchen where everyone sat. Steve was the first to notice you and the empty look in your eyes.

“Y/N?,”

Bucky turned around to see you struggling to breathe- before he could get up to come over to you, you held your hand up.

“Was anyone going to tell me?,” your voice was so robotic, Friday sounded realer than you.

Your dad frowned but not for long- the way you were acting reminded him of the same way he reacted to finding out... you didn’t even have to say it...

“Sweetheart-,”

“Was ANYONE going to tell me?!,” you looked across the room to see the confused faces of everyone, “is this why you guys went into hiding?”

Mentioning what had happened years ago had everyone going through flashbacks.

“Was anyone going to tell me that my fiancé was my grandparents’ murderer?!,”

Bucky felt his heart clench- as bad as it sounds he never wanted you to find out. All you knew was that Bucky created issues because he used to work for HYDRA and was framed for things that some psychopath did. You never knew what came after. You just knew Steve, Buck, Sam, Nat, Wanda and Vision went into hiding for three years and when they came back, everything was fine and dandy. Everyone came back to the compound and grudges disappeared and you met the love of your life.

It all makes sense now why he was so hesitant to date you to begin with. He had the guilt of killing the people who are important in a child’s life. You never to go experience the love that grandparents brought and it’s all his fault.

“How could you all look at me and know me for YEARS and not tell me?!,” you swiped a glass vase off the counter and watched the way everyone flinched before posting to Bucky, “And you!,” your finger trembled, “How could you look me in the eyes and tell me you love me every day? How could you propose knowing what you did?!,”

Your throat felt raw already. Feeling the affects of your screaming.

“It wasn’t him,” Tony swallowed thickly, “I meant to delete that video years ago, I haven’t looked at that file in years,”

“You have it saved?,” Steve hissed

“You- you choked my grandmother out with the same hands you hold my face with when you kiss me, the SAME FUCKING HANDS THAT ROAM MY BODY WHEN- W-when... we,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence you felt so disgusted for being with him, your grandparents are probably rolling over in their graves.

“Y/N, baby please- try to understand- it wasn’t me,” He stepped closer and you saw the way his shoulders sagged when you took a huge step away

“Don’t fucking touch me,”

Bucky felt tears come to his eyes as you looked at him in the way he never wanted you to look at him. You saw him as the very thing you told him he wasn’t whenever he’d have nightmares or episodes of flashbacks that triggered a panic attack... you saw him as a monster now.

“I- I would never hurt you, Y/N,”

“I don’t know that now,”

“All of that is gone in my head! You were there for the process,”

You looked past him to look at your dad, another wave of anger coursing through your veins, picking up another glass object and chucking it at him

“And fuck you for not telling me! I. deserved. to know!,”

He dodged the cup as it hit the wall behind him and eyes you as you went around the kitchen throwing anything at everyone. Glass plates, pans, you were hysterical and everyone was just dodging your attacks

“Some fucking family this is! I have been living in a goddamn LIE and you all let me!! You all looked at me and lied every. single. fucking. day!!,”

No one knew what to say, no one could fix this.

“I never got to meet them,” you sobbed, shoulder shaking violently, “I never got to experience their love, their embrace that I’ve always dreamt of,” you wrapped your arms around yourself to simulate a sort of comfort that you imagined they would have brought to your life.

“I never got to experience dinner at grandma’s like other kids! I grew up with kids boasting about the presents they’d get from their grandparents- I never got to experience grandma’s cookies o-or always taking grandpa’s change to put in my piggy bank,”

Tony felt a pit in his gut for keeping it from you, you always talked about wishing you got to meet them. He remembers you coming home from 3rd grade upset because they were having a grandparents luncheon and you had to sit alone.

Bucky was freaking out. You gave him peace and a sense of belonging. You showed him what self love was and you showed him how other people didn’t need to be his happiness, that he had to create happiness for himself and others just added to it. Now he was going to lose you for sure.

“You never loved me did you?,” you turned to Bucky and shook your head, “you just felt bad for what you did!,”

“No!,” he face was turning red and he found it hard to swallow, “I love you so much it’s insane. You know how it was for me when I was in the state of the Winter Soldier- that wasn’t me I wouldn’t have consciously done anything I did back then!!,”

You didn’t want to hear it. You had so many thoughts running through your head.. nothing made sense now.

“W-what am I going to tell our child?,” You hiccuped, “They’re going to grow up knowing their father killed their family!,”

The bomb you dropped had everyone looking around at each other in even more worry than they already had to begin with.

“You’re.. you’re pregnant?,” Bucky couldn’t help the swell of joy in his heart but it was soon gone when he realized the circumstances.

You didn’t answer him, you just looked at everyone with the biggest look of betrayal, “You were supposed to be my best friend Steve... y-you knew! All of you di-did,”

“Ms. Stark would you like me to call for medical attention?,” Friday’s voice rang through the dining room. Whenever she brings up a call for medical attention, it’s never good.

“Y/N baby I’m gonna need you to just calm down- for your sake and the baby’s,” Bucky’s voice dropped and he saw another switch flip in your mind

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,”

“We didn’t want to hurt you,” Steve tried to justify the situation but it didn’t do shit,

“He was literally brainwashed, Y/N. H-he didn’t even know who they were when he did it. HYDRA turned him into a killing machine, sure he shared the same body as the Winter Soldier but they are two completely different people... Bucky did not kill them,” Natasha thought those words would settle you but again, it didn’t do shit.

“I- I can’t listen to this,” you turned and walked away but Bucky couldn’t let you just walk away. He was happy you hadn’t taken your ring off yet.

Growing up you always told yourself had you ever found out who killed your grandparents you’d kill em right back but how do you kill the man who you’ve grown to love with your whole being? How do you kill the man who is now the father of the bit of cells that will soon be a human life. You were so confused and shattered.

You stormed in your room and began packing bags, needing to get away from here... far... far away.

“Baby please let’s- let’s just talk this out. Please try to understand,”

“You try to understand!,” you were in so much mental turmoil you couldn’t see straight, “I feel disgusting! I feel like I betrayed not only my grandparents but myself! It’s your fault! It wasn’t supposed to be you! Not you!,”

You threw one item in after another until Bucky snatched the bag away and grabbed your arms in his grasp

“Get off, get off, get o-off!!,” your arms were shut tighter than a storm shelter door. You couldn’t bear to look at him

“You can fight me, hit me, yell at me, just don’t leave, baby please,” Bucky hated the way his voice cracked but you’ve brought so much light in his life he can’t take the thought of you leaving.

Your body fell limp in his arms and he fell to the floor right along with you despite you pounding his chest in hopes to hurt him the same way you’re hurting. You grew tired and just fell against him despite every other part of you telling you to leave.

“How can I ever look at you knowing what you did to them... what you did to me,”

Bucky felt like sobbing right then and there. He doesn’t have an answer- however Tony came to forgive him in a way and understand it wasn’t his fault, he hopes it’s the same for you.

“Knowing what you did to our child...,”

Bucky can only imagine what you’re feeling. He’s feeling the same fear he felt when Tony was ready to kill him. He kinda wished he did... so you wouldn’t be feeling this.

“Baby it- it’s so hard to explain,” Bucky pulled you closer, fearing this will be the last time, he was trying to keep his sobs to a minimum but damn you’re his fiancée and the mother of his child, “I was not.. I was not in control,”

You felt his chest tremble under your own body, you teona tangled, sobbing mess.

“HYDRA... ruined me,” his sniffles were thick and filled the room, “They- they wired me to be a monster... I didn’t have a conscience. I didn’t know what right or wrong was all I knew was the mission reports they gave me... you saw- you saw glimpses of what I had to go through while getting help... going in deep cryosleeps just so people could rewire me and make me human again...,” you felt his thumbs running across the warm skin of your arms and you shouldn’t embrace it but damn- you loved this man, “Just so no one else could get their hands on that journal and try to trigger me to make me a machine again... you have to believe me I never wanted that for me... for us, for our child,”

You sat up and away from him, still not being able to look him in his eyes, “send my dad in here please,”

———

Bucky left your room to find everyone still in their same spots, no one knew what was going to happen, they were stuck.

“She’s asking for you,” he nodded to Tony and it took Tony a bit to even move. But he did so hastily when he realized you needed him.

He pushed the door open to see your room a mess with clothes thrown everywhere. He shut the door behind him and just stood there.

“How’d you do it?,” he saw you sitting in the floor playing with the tag on one of Bucky’s shirts, “How’d you get to the point where you could look at him and forgive him enough to let him fall in love with me knowing what he did?,” you spat the question out like it was poison.

“I understood that it wasn’t him,”

“But it was!,”

“Except it wasn’t, Y/N,” he used his fatherly voice and you looked at him with confusion, how could he pull that voice at a time like this?

“I completely understand where your mind is... mine was there too- I tried to kill him for God’s sake,” he wiped a hand down his face and sighed, shaking his head, “It wasn’t easy, forgiving him. Or Steve- I felt lied to... I only had one person lying to me but you have... everyone lying to you and I’m sorry I just- I didn’t want you to feel what I felt that day,” he sat on the floor by you, wanting to grab you hand but afraid how you’d react.

“They probably hate me for being in love with him,”

“They don’t hate you, you didn’t know,”

“But now I do and I... I should have a heart full of hatred for him but I- I shouldn’t still love him but I do and I- I dunno what to do,” You wheezed for air as a another sob wracked your body

“Because you know deep down... that it wasn’t him you saw in the video... I-it was a version of him... but not the version you know now, the one you’ve come to love,”

“How’d you do it?,” you looked at him with absolute melancholy. How could you go on? How could you go on with your relationship? With your impending marriage?

“Time...,” he shrugged. He knew that’s not what you wanted to hear but that’s what it was. Time and understanding, “Read that journal too... that helped put things into perspective,”

————

So that’s what you did... up late each night reading journals on the Winter Soldier program... reading what they did to people... Bucky specifically, you cried reading most of it and sometimes reading it made you feel like you yourself were becoming a different person... it’s almost like reading it nearly possessed you to become a minion of HYDRA.

There’s be nights where Bucky could hear you crying but he couldn’t give you comfort, you made it clear you needed space.

Tonight was no different. You were sobbing about what to do... so Bucky found himself in the kitchen drinking a mug of cold coffee, hearing you wail was worse than any of his nightmares.

He cried himself. Neither of you could be comforted because it was a hurt only you two knew and could deal with. You got to the mission report of your grandparents and nearly set the book on fire.

You needed air, so you roamed the compound, seeing your room door cracked, arguing with yourself on whether you should go in there and just be with him but you opted for a cup of hot cocoa instead.

Bucky heard the soft pattern of your feet, he knew it was yours, you had the softest patter than anyone in here. His chest clenched and he looked for a way out but you clicked the light on faster than he could run. You yelped when you saw him sitting there and held your chest.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be up,” you mumble and look away from him quickly, heading to make your drink of the night.

He didn’t say anything. He just watched you move around the kitchen and he hoped you wouldn’t leave when you were done... and to his surprise, you didn’t. Grant it, you sat far away from him but you still sat with him.

“I feel like they got in my head simply by just reading those damned journals,” you mutter, circling the rim of your little cauldron mug, “Even by reading it I felt like my humanity was switching off- it brought nightmares,”

“I know- I could hear you crying,” his throat was dry and his cheeks wet from crying that he quickly tried to get rid of any sign of it.

“Everything hurts,” you finally looked at him after not doing so for months... months, meaning you were showing and he was missing it... doctor’s appointments and all, “my heart.. my head.. I see how it wasn’t you but I see... you,” you cursed yourself out for your throat tightening.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“I loved you too much to see you hurt like you are now... that’s why no one did because we were so content a-and I finally had someone who loved me and I finally had someone to love. I saw it as a new beginning,”

You appreciated his honesty.

“I kind of hate myself for still love you,” you blinked tears away and some fell anyway in their own accord.

“I hate myself for letting you love me,”

You hated to hear him say it. He’s come a long way to begin loving himself and his life. Now he’s back at square one.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he shakes his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the tears.

“I still love you, Bucky. You’re still... you’re still my fiancé and the father of my child,”

He could have fallen to his knees hearing you say that.

“It’s going to take a while to get through and past this but... I’ve talked with dad and read the journals a-and... I’m realizing my Bucky wasn’t... that,”

“I’ll never... never hurt you or our baby,”

“I know,” you nodded and stood up with your mug, walking over to him to kiss his forehead goodnight before going back to your spare room to finish reading.

“Tomorrow at 1:30. Be ready,” you begin walking away but he stops you with a voice of confusion.

“What’s tomorrow?,”

You send a small smile, knowing he’s been missing your appointments and missing the feeling of being a soon-to-be-dad. Now was his chance. You rub your belly and turned to walk away but not before calling out over your shoulder.

“You get to hear our son’s heartbeat,”

——————

someone asked how i get my inspiration for angst and all i can say is that.... i can’t help but hurt my own feelings.

Please comment and reblog!!

tags- @blackreaders-assemble @yournonlocalpoc @retroxvailles @dumbchick @warmchick @hisxblackxqueen @valentinevirgo @here-for-your-bullshit @valkyriesnymph @valynsia @veryhellshdia @chonisberonica @crawlingnightmares @vozit @kamahriii @its-a-fucking-above-me @mbaku-babygirl @xye-weirdo @spideys-wife

[mel0nbr3ad]

Bite Through the Cartilage

Summary: An asylum for the criminally insane experiences a riot and Bed, one of the patients, tries his best to break out in one piece. But with other patients holding grudges against him and giving chase, he might not even get out alive. (Very loosely inspired by Outlast.)

                                                 PART II: [BREACH]

The section of the asylum that Bed had made it to was one he was less familiar with. His memories of it were foggy at best. But telling from all the patients in wheelchairs he spotted—most of which were drugged out of their minds and drooling—then he was definitely in the medical ward.

He ducked behind an occupied wheelchair when he heard heavy boots slapping the floor, and peeked out as multiple guards ran by, heading to the prison ward. But they would be met with a horrible sight. There was no telling what had happened in there by now. And Bed hadn’t exactly wasted time locking doors behind himself, so a few patients would have slipped through and were probably right behind him, but when he checked he still didn’t spot anyone familiar. Just all these wheelchair-bound patients so dazed that their gazes never wandered, as if they weren’t alive at all.

And Bed didn’t like this place. Not one bit. So he crept over to the closest infirmary and peered through the small window on the door, spotting two occupants: a doctor, and a guard it seemed like. The guard didn’t appear very tall or menacing at all, and Bed didn’t recognise the doctor. And rather than risk trying a different room and waste time, he unlocked the door and slipped in, not locking it behind himself, wanting an easy escape route.

“Don’t mind me, gentlemen,” he said. “Just grabbing a few things for Dr Peepee Peter.”

“Uh, sure, no problem,” the doctor said, with a thick drawl to his voice.

“Charborg, you can’t just let patients take things,” the guard warned.

“Sput, he asked nicely. The little fella doesn’t seem so bad.”

Bed inspected the closest cabinet and sighed finding that it required a key. Everything was locked up tight, but he found that on a table was multiple tools for performing operations. And of course he grabbed a scalpel and slipped it up his sleeve, with his back to Charborg and Sput (weird that Sput, the guard, hadn’t used the title ‘Dr’ for Charborg, even though the guy was clearly dressed as a doctor).

“Do you have a torch? I need it,” Bed said, turning around and raising an eyebrow seeing Charborg with a clipboard in his hands, except it was upside down. Weird…

“Not for you, civy,” Sput said, putting on a rough voice.

“’Civy’?” Bed repeated, confused.

“A-Ah! I mean, patient! Stop looking at me like that! What do you know?!”

Charborg sighed and elbowed Sput lightly. “That sounded totally suspicious. What are you doing?”

“Me?! What about you?! You’re blowing this for us!”

Bed slowly edged towards the door, not sure what he had walked into, and not caring to find out. Was this some sort of weird roleplay thing? Like, had they swapped uniforms for the day or something? Maybe it was best that he didn’t find out.

So he left before they noticed, slipping out into the hallway and sighing when he made it out, only for a patient in a wheelchair to grab onto him when he walked past. “Messiah! Oh messiah! Bless me with your holy light!” exclaimed the patient, not even looking him in the eye. “Free me, messiah! For I am a faithful follower! Messiah! Messiah! Free us from our sins, from our suffering, and strike down the devil! The devil that speaks in the dead of night!”

Bed shook him off and said, “Sorry pal, but I’ve got no clue what the fuck you’re going on about.” And then he ran, yelping when another patient tried to grab him, unsuccessful this time. “Messiah! Messiah!”

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Bed ran, wincing when more of them piped up, screaming for their messiah, and one even leapt out of their wheelchair, lunging at him, and tackling him to the ground as if he were something precious. And Bed, temper ignited like a rocket, kicked the patient hard enough in the stomach, that they were sent flying off of him and smacked into the wall of the hallway. And even still, the patient crawled towards him, grinning and drooling but not seeming to be looking at him directly. “MESSIAH! I found you!”

Bed scrambled to his feet, beyond panicking, and took off again, the screams behind him fading but continuing to ring in his head.

 *

 When Bed made it out of the medical ward, he immediately unlocked the door to a small storage room and sat inside, knees pulled up to his chest and resting his chin on them. As he jangled the keys around in his hands he struggled to make sense of what had caused the wheelchair-bound patients to suddenly go off like that. And no doubt their screaming had alerted the doctors, and guards too. Which was why it was bad to stay here but…

He just needed a minute to gather his thoughts. To focus on getting out, and not concerning himself with wanting to know what they had been screaming about. Because getting out was far more important than solving a mystery he didn’t care about (but he did care, and it was bothering him, because he wanted to know and it was seriously bugging the fuck out of him).

Bed shook his head.

No, I need to get out.

Still, his curiosity kept pulling at him, as if there was a child on his arm trying to pull him towards a different direction entirely. ‘Come this way, this way, let’s go solve the mystery of this asylum! There’s nothing out there for you, silly! Stay in here, and solve the mystery! You know you want to! Go on, go on! It’d bug you until you do!’

“I can’t,” Bed whispered. “This is my only chance to escape. They’ll tighten up security after this riot. It’s my only chance of ever getting out. I can’t stay here. I’ll lose my mind—I’ll became like them. I don’t want to drool for the rest of my life and not be myself. No, I won’t stay.”

Bed got to his feet, and slipped the keys back onto his wrist and under his sleeve. Then he continued on his way, shutting out the curious cat within himself, focusing on the idea of sweet, sweet freedom.

Up ahead, there was an elevator, stairs, and double doors beyond the elevator. He knew that the keys wouldn’t be able to open the double doors, as the doors had to be opened from the other side by alerting a guard (he…wasn’t exactly sure why he knew that). So the doors were out, so his only two other options were the stairs or the elevator.

“Hey!”

Bed turned, and immediately slipped the scalpel out of the fabric of his sleeve and into his hand, pointed it at none other than Buck, who rose his arms up in a surrendering motion.

“Wow, you’re scary,” Buck said. “Not only that, but rude, too!”

“I’m not rude—you snuck up on me!” Bed hissed out, but didn’t lower the scalpel. “Were you following me? Better question: what the fuck do you want?”

Buck frowned sadly. “Why are you being so mean?”

“We’re both patients in an asylum, constantly surrounded by violent criminals, and right now there’s a riot going on, so excuse me if I’m not exactly sugar-coating my words, Buck! Besides, we’ve barely spoken a word to each other!”

Buck tilted his head to the side and seemed confused. “Uh…but you just said a whole lot of words at me?”

“Buck!”

“Sorry, I just don’t really like sharp objects getting pointed at me! I’m not good under pressure! And it makes it so hard to talk to someone!”

Bed sighed and slipped the scalpel back up his sleeve and secured it in the fabric. “There! Happy?”

“Yes,” Buck agreed, grinning. “That makes things a lot easier.”

“…What?”

“ARGH!” Buck yelled, pouncing at Bed with surprising speed, and Bed barely dodged out of the way, watching as Buck smacked into the button controlling the doors of the elevator, which was awfully convenient. Luck was finally on Bed’s side.

Buck lunged at Bed again, recovering quickly, and Bed danced out of the way, and for a moment thought that the elevator had shook…which was weird. But Bed was getting used to the unexpected and unexplained. What he wasn’t used to was how much energy Buck contained, because he wasn’t giving up, and when Bed had his back to the open doors to the elevator, Buck tackled him and both screamed when the elevator jostled on impact, seconds before screeching downwards into the dark depths of the asylum, taking the two boys with it.

 *

 Fortunately for the two boys screaming for their lives, the elevator didn’t crash at the bottom of the asylum as they had both dreaded, and merely stopped on one of the lower floors. That didn’t make it any better when the doors opened, and the boys tumbled out in a mess of limbs and heavy breathing after the near-death experience they had endured. And Bed was quick to fling himself away from Buck, who he very much blamed for the elevator malfunctioning.

It was difficult to be angry when it was hard to see Buck at all, because this floor didn’t seem like it was regularly used by anybody, not even guards, because the few lights that were on flickered and were dim, on the verge of dying completely. Most of the lights had already stopped working, bathing most of the area in pitch black because this place was underground.

Bed wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, and wanted to scream because there was definitely no heating in here. And he was sure that the sun must have gone down by now, and he dreaded dying due to freezing to death.

“Good job, Buck!” he said sarcastically. “Look what you did!”

“Me?! Well maybe if you hadn’t been such a jerk then none of this would have happened!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“Well, Criken said—”

“You’re working for Criken?! Of course you are! Seriously, if he was so mad to send someone to kill me then he should have chased after me himself! How many people did he send after me? And no, you’re not having my keys. Finders keepers!”

Buck looked confused. “Huh?”

Bed wasted no time, and shoved Buck back into the elevator, before hitting the button to go back up. And Buck made a baffled noise before the elevator doors closed. “Bed! You’re such a jerk!” was all Bed heard, before Buck was gone to the upper levels.

“Geez,” Bed said with a sigh. “Criken is a persistent guy, isn’t he? I guess it won’t matter that he has a grudge against me when I get out. He can’t get to me out there if he’s locked up in here!”

I need to stop talking to myself. I’m not crazy, remember? Not completely, anyway.

“Yeah, ok.”

Bed slowly navigated through the dark hallways, unsure what this floor was meant to be used for, if it was even used at all. There were abandoned beds on wheels, old machines that seemed to be outdated medical equipment, and not much else. Papers were scattered on the floor, but Bed didn’t have enough light to be able to read them. What could be made out was long words and a lot of math, so they were probably old medical records. But if they were scattered so carelessly then clearly they weren’t important.

Bed paused when he heard a noise. But when he stopped it didn’t persist.

Must have imagined it.

He continued, unsure of where exactly he was going. But surely his wandering would lead him somewhere. But due to all the darkness, it was hard to keep track of where he was, and he realised very quickly that everything looked the same, so much so that his sense of direction was sent spinning. Not only that, but this place just seemed to make him feel reminiscent of something.

He wasn’t even sure what that ‘something’ was. It was just an uncanny feeling that he had (maybe) been here before. Or somewhere like this. And he didn’t like this place at all, and wanted to go back up badly. But he wasn’t even sure where the elevator was anymore.

I think I’ve mostly been walking straight… Uh, have I? So if I turn around and keep walking maybe that’s where it is? I think… I hope. Why didn’t I loot a guard’s body for a flashlight?

Bed turned around and sucked in a breath when in the distance, to his right, he thought he saw something move in the dark, just close enough to a light for it to be detectable, but not close enough to determine what it was—except that it had been tall and gangly, and Bed didn’t like that one bit.

And yep, he definitely heard footsteps, and wow was this not fun at all. He would have rather been the hunter, than the hunted, because this was ridiculous! But hey, he still had his trusty scalpel, and he was going to—hands reached out of the dark past his face, and his yell was muffled when they covered his mouth, and he was pulled backwards, struggling all the while and praying, desperately, that this wasn’t how he was going to die: in the dark, alone, where no one could hear him scream.

Surprisingly, his neck wasn’t slit when he was pulled all the way back, and he was even more shocked when he was pulled through a doorway, able to see barely as the tall figure from before walked past quickly, not noticing Bed at all thankfully.

When Bed’s mouth was uncovered, he immediately pulled out the scalpel and aimed it, wincing when his wrist was instantly caught in a strong grip of none other than the angry red-haired guy. He still looked as pissed as ever.

“You followed me?” Bed whispered out, not risking raising his voice.

“As if it was hard?” the guy questioned in disbelief. “You do know that you’re not exactly stealthy, you know? Especially when all those religious fanatics started screaming. Honestly I was embarrassed for you.”

Bed tried to push the scalpel down, but the guy was far stronger, his grip not loosening or budging. “How did you even get down here?”

The guy stared at him as if he were an idiot. “Buck’s ten times louder than you, and I saw you two on the upper floor run into each other. While you two were fighting like little kids I just climbed on top of the elevator. Turns out this place is full of architecture flaws that can be exploited. But did you guys seriously have to almost break the elevator? I didn’t want to die with both of you idiots. The people that built this place obviously cut more than a few corners, and didn’t have the safety of the patients or workers in mind. Not that it’s surprising.”

“You’re working for Criken too, aren’t you?” Bed asked, ignoring basically everything else.

“If I said ‘no’ then you wouldn’t believe me. But does it matter? I just want to get out of here, same as you. Besides, maybe I don’t even know a Criken personally. It’s not like I had much time out of my solitary cell. Punched way too many guards. Fucking babies.”

“I don’t trust you. I don’t even know your name.”

He seemed confused. “Huh, you don’t? Well, it’s Tomato…”

“And I’m Bed.”

“Yeah, I… Look, never mind. Just… Let’s agree to both get out of here. Nothing interesting down here. As funny as shoving Buck into that elevator was, it probably hadn’t been your brightest idea.”

“We’ll just take the stairs then and avoid whatever the fuck is down here. You lead the way.”

“Nooo, you’ll stab me in the back, and not just figuratively,” Tomato argued. “You go first.”

Bed did go first, only because he heard distant footsteps again and wanted to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. Especially when his familiarity of this place kept sending him reeling, making him feel dizzy, and now whenever he saw one of the beds on wheels his heart would pound faster.

There’s something wrong with this place. Or there’s something wrong with me. Or both.

Something—everything is wrong.

Although Bed didn’t understand why, it was starting to hurt to be here, so he quickened his pace, and Tomato followed along without arguing. And Bed, with every step, couldn’t help but feel as if he were turning his back on a wolf. And lord did he hate being the sheep. But rather than stop and argue, he wanted to get to an upper floor as soon as possible.

So he walked, tense, and further solidified his disdain to ever trust anyone.