#but the spiteful part of me is like Yes sorry that i had a ptsd moment . if only there was something you all couldve done . so that i would

[nomairuins]

wtvr. i ate some crepes

[tatterings]

Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 7 - "A Tangle of Weeds"

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: PG-13

Tags/warnings: Spoilers for early act II, mentions of PTSD/trauma, battle, violence, angst.

Word count: 7.3k

Note: This is the seventh chapter of my first ever fanfiction!

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter made, y'all! I had 5,000 words trying to summarize all of the events in Act II and hated it.

So I had to start over. And here we are, at 7,300 words just for this chapter, lol. Big big thanks to @solmesia for taking the time to read through multiple drafts and do a beta read, and also go back-and-forth with me bouncing ideas. <3

I’ve also posted this on AO3. Fic under the cut!

The shadow-cursed lands truly were a horror to behold; Astarion ranked them with other disturbing sights, such the mindflayer nautiloid, brothels set alight, or even worse, - Wyll insisting they’d help a random stranger with no payment upfront. The other sight that had turned Astarion’s already-cool blood into ice was how quickly Halsin’s mood had shifted as soon as the shadows had thickened around them. As they descended from the hills of the Mountain Pass and into the thick of the shadow-cursed lands, the druid’s jovial smile had faded, his lips taut with focus.

“The shadow curse is just as foul as I remember it,” Halsin had said his voice almost a growl, “And… perhaps even worse.” With height to his advantage, he lifted his torch high above his head; but it hardly shed light beyond ten meters. Once the torchlight faded, their surroundings were as black as pitch poured into the air. Even Shadowheart, devotee of Shar, was unnerved by the desolation.

The walkways were cracked, uneven; the land torn apart by the sheer force of the curse’s spread a century ago. Halsin, usually more than happy to strike up a conversation, seemed lost in his thoughts unless directly addressed.

“So.. this shadow curse is Shar’s doing?” Gale had asked as they walked, keeping their ranks filed tightly. “I knew it was some sort of magic, but different from the Weave of Mystra.”

“Yes, despite the many lives lost trying to stop Ketheric Thorm’s evil from spreading across the land,” Halsin said, his tone serious as he scanned the edge of their visible range for threats. “Ketheric had abandoned Selune after personal tragedies and massed a Sharran army in his grief. Of course, loss is a part of the natural cycle; it should not be interrupted.”

Astarion glanced back at Shadowheart as Halsin spoke; her nose crinkled in a sneer. The vampire rolled his red eyes and walked closer to Karlach, who emitted a decent bit of light by her infernal engine.

“So that’s where the druids came in?” asked Wyll, who kept Scratch on a tight lead. It would not do to let the dog’s skillful nose lead him into the shadows.

“Correct, Wyll; we druids of the Emerald Grove, as well as the Harpers could not let this darkness spread. So, we joined forces to stop his army,” Halsin continued. His strides were long and purposeful. Everyone besides Karlach had to walk at double-speed to keep up. “We were successful in defeating Ketheric and his forces. We interred his body into the Thorm family mausoleum.”

“If you defeated him, then how did the shadow curse come to be?” asked Lae’zel. “It seems your blade must not have struck deep enough, if Ketheric still released the curse.”

“You may be right,” Halsin said. He released a deep sigh that made his large shoulders sag. “Shar is a spiteful goddess; with his last breath, she gave him the power to release the shadow curse. It washed over the land like a flash flood. Anything, and anyone, touched by the darkness warped was into the corrupted beings and places around us.”

Karlach’s body sizzled with rage. “And that bastard’s damage has been here for over a century now, yeah?” she asked. Halsin nodded at her question. “High time you had some help to get some sunshine out here, soldier!” Karlach beamed at the druid, who smiled weakly back at her.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it,” Halsin said. He lifted his torch closer to a gnarled tree branch above the pathway. As he patted it with his large hand, it seemed to crumble into dust. “The very spirit of this land seems to have disappeared. Thaniel, as I know him… or knew him… for him to have no presence here is grave news.”

The group had been silent in response; the adventurers knew nothing of this Thaniel or nature spirit. Astarion, whose idea of ‘communing with nature’ meant enjoying wine on a veranda, had no words of solace to offer Halsin. Even the vampire, who had no interest in finding out which chirps belonged to which bird, had been unnerved by the complete lack thereof. No birdsong had rung from the twisted treetops. There had been no rustle of squirrels amongst fallen leaves.

Halsin’s additional news dropped a heavier burden on the shoulders of the adventurers. They marched in silence, with the only noise being the jangling of their own packs, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel, the crackle of their lit torches, and the occasional agonized screech of a shade. Their grunts of effort joined the symphony as they climbed a steep hill. Having the high ground was beneficial in any location, but even more so in such a foreboding wilderness. It would serve as a decent enough place to make camp for the evening.

“So you think we might find answers to the tadpole problem at Moonrise Towers, Halsin?” Gale asked, receiving a nod from Halsin. “And you think Thaniel might be there as well? What awaits us there?

Halsin jammed his staff into the coal-colored soil, using it as a post to which he could tie his torch. “I…do not rightly know, if I am honest Gale,” Halsin explained with a shrug, “But.. I think it is as good a place as any to get a start.”

****

Halsin bedded down at the front of the campsite; he wouldn’t run from the curse this time. The opening of his tent faced away from the campfire; he wanted to easily launch from his bedroll at a shadow-cursed creature.

But given how they’d lit up their campsite with cantrips, torches, and lanterns, it was doubtful that one of the twisted beings would try to slip into the light. He sat at the entrance to his tent, his knees pulled to his broad chest, and his arms wrapped around his shins. The druid stared into the distance; but even with elven eyesight, he could not see much beyond the camp’s lit circle. Occasionally the shadows would flare in the distance, blue green magic flickering like the hottest part of the flame.

The shadow curse flickered with power whenever it absorbed the life force of a creature; he recalled seeing the same visual as the curse rolled from Moonrise Towers a century ago, lapping up his friends and allies in bright turquoise flashes.

Something rustled around the edge of the tent, and a shadowy form appeared in Halsin’s peripheral vision. He slammed his hands on the ground in front of him, eyes flashing golden light as he prepared to wildshape on all fours.

“Halsin! It’s just me,” said Astarion, holding two wine glasses in one hand, and a wine bottle in the other. “I’d say I’d enjoy being ravaged, but, well, we’ve had that discussion. And I certainly would not want to be ravaged by those claws.” The vampire wiggled the wine bottle at Halsin’s hands, fingertips glowing with magic.

Halsin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was a relief and a joy to have Astarion’s company. “I’m sorry, Astarion,” he said, sitting back on his heels. His brows knit upward and a meek smile pulled at his lips. “I’m…on edge in this place.”

Astarion joined the druid, folding his legs underneath him and sliding to a cross-legged position with catlike grace. “Aren’t we all,” the pale elf said, with a lilt and a small giggle. “So I felt it prudent to raid the stocks. Better than tiefling vinegar wine, I hope?” The vampire poured a conservative serving of wine in one glass, before looking up at Halsin through his long eyelashes. “It’s so quiet here.. I know you said you don’t imbibe because you turn into even more of an oaf, but we could use some singing honestly. Regardless of how bad it is.” The vampire’s smile was gentle. Genuine.

Halsin held a hand over the glass meant for him. “I appreciate the thought, Astarion, truly, but I will have to decline,” the druid could see the disappointment in the vampire’s face, his ruby eyes rounding with concern. “But I would love your company while you enjoy it. Please, go ahead.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head back. Halsin felt scrutinized.

“It is nothing to do with you, I assure you. I was not being fully truthful with you at the tiefling party,” Halsin explained. He picked up the empty glass with his large hands and twirled the stem in his fingers. A nervous habit. “I do not partake now, because I did so too often, in the past. Specifically, after I lost Thaniel to the shadow curse. Honey mead was my drink of choice.” Halsin looked to Astarion and winked. “As suits a bear. But as for an elf, it left a sickness in me. Once I realized the damage I caused because of its misuse…I decided it was best to forgo it completely.”

Astarion’s expression softened as he nodded, his ivory curls bobbing about his ears. “I see…Well, more for me then,” the pale elf replied, swirling the wine in his glass. He held it to his nose to inhale the aroma, closing his large eyes. “So. This Thaniel. Was he a lover of yours, druid?”

Halsin caught himself from falling backwards out of surprise. “Oh no, quite the opposite,” he said. He shook his head furiously, as if to shake the disturbing thought away. “At my current age, he is like a son, to me. But I have known him since I was a young cub.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed again, and his bottom lip protruded in a beautiful pink pout. “Like a son? Halsin, if you’ve known him since you were a child, he must be hundreds of years old now. What in the hells do you mean?” He took a sip from his wine, licking his top lip. Halsin caught sight of a sharp fang tip.

The druid studied his hands in thought, before meeting Astarion’s gaze. “Well, I believe Thaniel may be many hundreds, or even thousands, of years older than myself,” he said, with a shrug of his well-muscled shoulders. He noticed Astarion’s eyes darting to them and back to his face with unnatural quickness. “Thaniel is the embodiment of this land. The.. formerly untainted purity of nature is manifest in Thaniel himself. So, as best I can tell, that is why he takes the physical form of a child.”

Astarion studied Halsin’s face over the rim of the wineglass as he took another sip. He pulled the glass away and held it daintily, a slender pinky raised in the air. “A rather apt explanation. As good as any, I suppose. Although nature is hardly innocent,” the pale elf said.

Halsin chuckled and placed a large hand on Astarion’s back. He delighted in the coolness of the vampire’s skin, even through his flowy cream tunic, which was a welcome relief from his intense body heat. “Ah, Astarion, and you say you’re not in tune with nature,” Halsin chuckled again, “While there’s no intention behind her actions, Nature has her own form of fury. You know, storms, earthquakes, and lightning. Think of a child being refused a sweet - their anger manifests in much the same way.”

The vampire nodded, his lips turned downward in thought. Halsin continued. "In earnest, his physical form matters not. But, when I was younger, it was a welcome sight to a loner whose closest friends were animals," Halsin said with another shrug. He leaned back on his hands, his gaze directed at the shadows. "He was... is... my best friend."

Astarion took another sip of wine, swishing it along his palate. “You were bound to be a druid from the start, it seems. But how do you mean, you were a loner? That’s quite a transition to go from that, to being an Arch Druid,” he said, flashing a pointy-toothed grin at Halsin.

The druid shifted the weight of his torso from one hand to the other. He felt especially restless this evening. He took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly.

"I would say that I still prefer solitude, or the company of a select few," Halsin said, smiling with his eyes as he glanced at Astarion; creating a genuine smile had become more challenging. "So when I met Thaniel, it overjoyed me to have a companion with whom I could roam the wilds. We spent many spring days playing in cool creeks and many winter evenings sharing ghost stories around a campfire."

Halsin blinked quickly, willing away the moisture at the corners of his eyes. "But as the seasons passed, and as I grew older and wiser, I realized that Thaniel was not just a boy; he was the spirit of the land. He remained the same while I grew older, and I realized he required protection."

The wine bottle gurgled as Astarion poured himself a small serving into his glass. "And now your path to becoming an Arch Druid becomes clear," he said, raising the glass in a lighthearted toast. Halsin raised the empty glass to meet Astarion’s with a ting.

"You are correct. Thaniel. He… shaped me into the person I am today. And one hundred years ago in this very place..." Halsin's words broke off. He chewed on his bottom lip before he spoke again. "It is my greatest failure, not being able to save him from this curse. One that I cannot abide."

Astarion sat beside the druid, swirling his glass from time to time before taking a sip. After a few minutes, it was empty again. The men sat in silence, facing the broken valley below. Again, the quiet was unnerving, interrupted only by Gale's snoring and the occasional shriek from the shadows. Halsin dug his fingers into the dirt, eager to hear something else, anything.

Then, a gurgle erupted from Astarion's slender stomach. Color rushed to the pale elf’s cheeks, and the tips of his pointed ears turned red. His eyes widened, and his eyebrows raised as he met Halsin’s stare.

The druid couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Astarion, you could have just said you were hungry,” Halsin said, tilting his head to the side. He then nodded toward the inside of his tent, his braids falling around his ears. The large druid did not bother to stand, but crawled the few feet to lie on his bedroll.

The vampire stared after him, with round eyes and an uncertain expression. “I - well. If you insist. Next time I will,” Astarion said, setting his wineglass aside. He stood slowly, bent over, before ducking inside the tent to kneel beside Halsin’s neck.

Halsin rolled his head to the side.

“Go ahead, Astarion, I am ready,” said the druid with a nod of his chin. He stared at the wall, his jaw set to prepare for the sharp pain. He was glad to offer this to Astarion, who would otherwise surely starve in this cursed land. I wonder how Thaniel fares wherever he is. Is he hungry? Is he safe? Is he… alive? Halsin’s mind drifted out of the tent flap, and into the darkened lands outside.

Astarion’s hands seemed to float in the air above the druid’s body, as though he were a marionette held up by strings. “I- yes. Thank you,” the vampire stammered, before lowering his mouth to Halsin’s neck.

Halsin started at the sensation of cool wetness on his jugular. He forced a smile for Astarion, just in case he looked over, before the druid allowed his thoughts to wander again.

The shadow curse brought an icy coldness, so frigid that temperature ceased to be felt; not unlike the cold-turned-to-numbness that occurred when being bitten by a vampire.

Astarion raised his mouth and bit into Halsin’s neck. The ice now coursed through Halsin’s veins, and he squinted his eyes at the sensation. He felt the numbness radiate from Astarion’s bite and the coolness of the pale elf’s tongue on Halsin’s warm skin. It made the druid shiver, a feeling he hadn't experienced since he first allowed Astarion to feed. He realized the shiver was partly from longing; but of a different form. Halsin longed for the desire he had for Astarion during their past feedings. In this moment, he could feel nothing except a sense of loss.

Astarion cleared his throat and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his pinky finger. “Er, thank you Halsin. I… appreciate your kindness,” the pale elf said.

Halsin felt the vampire’s cool gaze sweeping across his features. “Of course, Astarion,” he said, giving the smaller elf’s hand a squeeze.

The vampire didn't return the squeeze; he allowed Halsin to hold his hand as his pale head tilted. Halsin met his gaze with another forced smile. His eyelids felt as heavy as his heart in this place. Astarion nodded, his lips pressed together, and lowered his gaze to the ground as he left Halsin’s tent.

Halsin rolled in his bedroll the rest of the night, with his only tent-mate being raw, angry restlessness. It lolled tauntingly about his rumpled bedroll, heavy with desire and the faint aroma of rosemary and bergamot.

*****

The adventurers began their journey in the morning, once again at a loss for the actual time of day amidst the curse's darkness. The disrupted sleep patterns wrecked their energy levels, compounded by the general malaise of walking in such an eerie landscape and the shades lurking beyond the reach of their lights. It left each adventurer frustrated and eager to reach Moonrise Towers, in hopes of finding some answers.

Just a few hours into their tedious hike, commands echoed through the twisted and broken landscape, reaching Astarion and his companions. It sent everyone's heart, except for Astarion's, into a jolting pace. The shouts had been in Common, from humanoids untainted by the curse—a glimmer of hope.

Several in the party nearly dropped their torches in their rush to find the fray, even though seeing just down the pathway was as challenging as peering around a 90-degree corner. After running for several minutes, they stumbled upon the battle.

Astarion had never witnessed such a peculiar gathering of fighters; however, he had read about them. A magnificent and terrifying beast called a drider—a twisted drow-spider hybrid—swung a longsword at the group of humanoids. In his other hand was an intensely bright lantern, which jingled with every swing of his blade. Around his eight legs darted a hyena and several goblins, hollering chants that included the word "Absolute."

“Cultists!” Halsin said, his eye color shifting from honey hazel to molten gold. They glowed with bloodlust, shaking Astarion's nerves when he gazed into them for too long. “Karlach, Lae’zel, with me,” Halsin ordered in a half-growl as his massive back curved upward. “Wyll, Gale, control the bugbear with whatever you have. Shadowheart, I require your shield.” Halsin fell forward, his hands meeting the dirt with such force that dust flew up into the party’s faces. “Astarion, let loose upon them.” In a blaze of gold, Halsin transformed into an enormous cave bear, twice the size of the already sizable wood elf.

Astarion climbed to high ground on a rock outcropping above the slanted pathway, nocking an arrow in his short-bow. What is he planning? Thought the vampire, his lip curled upward. He’s seen us fight; he knows we excel in stealth. What is he doing? Astarion didn't need to breathe, but he did so to maintain a sense of normalcy. In battle, he held his breath to ensure his arrow would find its mark. The pale elf took aim.

Along a ridge opposite him, Shadowheart and Gale climbed, preparing to cast spells. Lae’zel and Karlach each downed an elixir of strength and turned towards the battle. The gigantic cave bear, charging headlong at the half-dozen cultists, nearly knocked them off their feet. Shadowheart dropped her arms in frustration; Halsin was out of range of her spell.

With a tremendous roar, Halsin collided with the drider, knocking it from its spindly legs. The arachnoid creature screeched in anger, and slammed his lantern into the muzzle of the bear, as well as the head of one of its goblin allies. A flurry of arrows erupted from the group of humanoids standing on the roof of a dilapidated building. Astarion loosed his arrow, laced with paralytic poison, and watched as it struck the drider’s sturdy carapace but failed to penetrate.

“Hells below,” the vampire cursed, leaving his elevated position to employ his daggers instead. He stalked the periphery, minding to stay within the safety of light, but kept enough distance from the swinging swords. Does Halsin think he’s the leader since we’re in these lands? Bullheaded oaf! Astarion seethed, sneaking behind a goblin and slitting its throat. He let it fall to the ground with a thud, not even bothering to check its pockets. He maintained visual contact with Halsin, who had galloped off to take another charge at the drider.

The spellcasters climbed from their high ground to be within range, nodding at their new allies as they joined them in the crumbling building. More arrows loosed from their allies’ bows, felling nearly all foes. Lae’zel and Karlach met the goblin and bugbear with their blades, dispatching them quickly.

The cave bear charged the drider, only to crumple at its legs as the drider’s blade fell between the druid’s shoulder blades. Halsin’s agonized roar, as well as the drider’s maniacal cackle, echoed between the cliff sides.

Astarion surged behind the drider, his anguished scream erupting as he leaped onto the drider's thorax and drove both daggers deep into its back. One dagger slid between the ribs, piercing a lung, while the other struck either the spleen or intestine,. He pulled it to the side to open the wound further. That godsdamned reckless fool.

“Halsin, get up godsdamn you!” Astarion shouted, jumping to the ground as the drider fell. He kneeled beside the Arch Druid, who had reverted to his large elven form. The wound between Halsin's shoulder blades oozed acrid pus—poison. The large elf groaned and shifted slightly; he still had life in him.

Astarion's hands shook as he rummaged through his belt for a healing potion, antidote, or anything. He could hear the clang of Shadowheart's armor as she rushed to their aid. He found a basic healing potion, which hardly healed a burn, let alone a festering wound. The vampire tried to roll the large elf to his side, groaning with the effort of Halsin’s weight and his own trembling fingers. He opened the druid’s mouth and carefully dripped the potion onto his tongue.

The vampire's vision blurred, his focus solely on ensuring Halsin's kept breathing. Astarion only noticed Shadowheart's arrival when he saw a greenish glow enveloping the druid. It was Cure Wounds, a spell he recognized from its frequent use on Lae’zel. Shadowheart cast lesser restoration, and the green pus between the druid's shoulders seemed to dry up as his wound knitted closed.

“Thank you,” Halsin wheezed, sitting up slowly. “Once again, I owe my life to you.” He held out his hand to Shadowheart and firmly gripped her delicate fingers. Astarion scowled beside him, arms crossed. The druid turned to face him.

“And thank you for stabilizing me, Astarion”, Halsin said with a deep bow. Halsin’s eyes were ringed by purple; whether from fatigue or bruises, Astarion couldn’t tell.

“Of course, Halsin,” the vampire replied, offering a curt nod. Does he even care that he could have died? That he didn’t wait for us? For me? Astarion forced air from his lungs in exasperation.

The arch druid did not seem to pick up on Astarion’s unusual lack of verbosity. Instead, he wordlessly stormed toward the bugbear, which had grasped at the dirt. Lae’zel must not have dug her sword in deep enough, this time. The vampire trotted after the druid, with a mix of curiosity and dread building in his stomach as Halsin cast shillelagh, his staff radiating with magic.

The Arch Druid glowered over the bugbear. “What are you doing in these lands?” Halsin said, his voice a desperate, angry bark.

“We will meet the Absolute, praise her!” the cultist said, wheezing against his punctured lung. “Praise Ketheric!”

Halsin took a step back at the name. "Ketheric Thorm is dead and buried. His body locked in the mausoleum,” Halsin said, his words dripping with venom, not unlike the wound he from which he had just been healed.

“Not anymore…” wheezed the bugbear. His gleeful cackle sounded more like a rattle, and he coughed blood as he spoke. “He has risen, he is immortal. Praise Ketheri-” The crunch of Halsin’s shillelagh into the cultist’s eye socket cut his words short.

“Ketheric Thorm is dead,” Halsin repeated. He twisted the staff as if it were inside Ketheric, instead of the bugbear.

Astarion was not sure which turned his stomach more; the squelch of the brain matter, or the transformation of Halsin into someone unrecognizable.

******

Their newfound allies from the battle turned out to be the Harpers. How history repeats itself, Halsin had thought with a frown, although let us hope not completely. After the battle, they had parted ways, but with a newfound hope. Within one more day's travel were the Last Light Inn and the rest of the Harper forces.

Despite the good news, the mood of the campsite took on a somber tone. The battle did not go as smoothly as it should have; they had used their valuable potions and energy for healing. To make matters worse, provisions were low, and Gale prepared the most basic of gruel stews. The party broke bread together around the fire.

Gale sat near Astarion, the wizard having noticed the vampire's foul mood and hoping to lift his spirits, even if it meant becoming the butt of a joke. Astarion scowled at the soup boiling over the campfire.

“Well, thank you again for cooking Gale. But I’m thankful for once to not have to eat, either,” said Astarion. His voice and his half-hearted joke fell flat. The vampire leaned on his knees, his brows furrowed as he stared at Halsin. Scratch sat at Shadowheart's side, his head resting on her feet, whimpering every time a shriek echoed from the darkness. Karlach stood and squeaked his ball to raise his spirits before stepping away to play fetch. A small smile crossed Lae’zel’s face at Scratch’s happy bark, and she finished her stew.

Wyll, seated near Gale, spoke first. “So, Halsin. You’re very familiar with the Harpers then?” he asked, gesturing with his spoon.

Halsin nodded and leaned towards the fire. His dinner had been plums he’d stocked away in his pouch. “Indeed. In that battle 100 years ago, they were my closest allies. Jaheira directed their forces in battle; I directed the forces of the Emerald Grove under my predecessor.”

Astarion sat up with his hands on his knees. “Oh did you, Halsin?” he snapped, tilting his head back and glaring at Halsin through half-lidded eyes. “I’m surprised you were content with playing second fiddle, seeing as how you barked orders at us during the battle.”

The druid noticed that Karlach, Gale, and Wyll shot the vampire a harsh look. Halsin flinched at his words. “I…you are right, Astarion,” he said, with a deep sigh sagging his shoulders. “It was not my place to issue orders. I have not seen this place in a century, and the fury took me at the moment.”

Shadowheart shook her head and glanced at the druid, worry on her face if not on her lips. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, a small “tsk’va” escaping her. Astarion crossed his arms, gripping his own skin with his fingertips. The firelight danced in his ruby eyes; it made his anger seem more intense.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that, Halsin. Your loss of control was quite clear as you charged in alone to get yourself killed,” Astarion said. His fangs were nearly bared under his plump top lip. Gale gripped the vampire's knee in response to his words. Halsin’s sensitive hearing picked up his whisper of “Enough, Astarion”.

Halsin’s chest felt gripped by a tangle of vines at the vampire’s anger. He knew Astarion was not wrong; he knew he had been foolish. He was repeating history in his own actions. The large elf shook his head slowly and placed his elbows on his knees. His braids fell into his face.

“That was foolhardy of me, to not wait. Your words are harsh, but accurate,” Halsin said, nodding slightly. “I truly do not enjoy leading battles. Leading… anything, in fact. It is a terrible burden.”

Wyll tilted his head in Halsin’s direction. “But you were the leader of the Emerald Grove, before handing it off to join us,” he said. The warlock’s gentle face was picture-perfect confusion.

Halsin sat up straighter. “That is correct. But that was not my choice. In the battle for the soul of these lands, I was second in command. After we defeated Ketheric, we thought we had won,” the Arch Druid said. “But not long after we sealed him away in his tomb, the shadow curse took hold. No one had seen the likes of it before. No one knew how to react. Then it claimed all those within its reach. Those who had survived the battles now fell to the shadows. The Archdruid, my predecessor… was seized by the curse. I couldn't save him; there was no time. I had to lead the survivors to safety,” Halsin continued. “That was my first day as Archdruid. An inauspicious beginning.”

The party listened in silence. Astarion’s expression softened slightly. He knew this story already; from reading Halsin’s diary.

Halsin went on, "But imagine if I had been faster, bolder, better. Lives would have been saved. More than I care to count. Including that of Thaniel.”

The party was silent; in surprise, or in respect, Halsin wasn’t sure. But he appreciated the silence all the same; it gave an excuse to end supper and depart. “Excuse me, my friends, but I must prepare for our travels tomorrow. If you need me, I will be in my tent,” said Halsin, before slipping away.

*********

After Halsin had left, the vampire received a proper scolding from Karlach, Gale and Wyll. The trio was insistent on kindness; they were all bleeding hearts. Couldn't Astarion understand Halsin was hurting? They had pointed out that he was clearly grieving, and we all make mistakes. But their opinions were split: Lae’zel agreed with Astarion; there’s no room for feelings when lives were on the line. Halsin made a foolish decision to give orders, and she was bitter about following them instead of trusting her own judgement. Shadowheart’s skin had rubbed raw from her chafing armor when she had run to heal Halsin. She, too, harbored frustration about his rash actions.

Regardless of their support or dissent, Astarion didn’t need their opinions. They didn’t know Halsin as well as he did. He felt an intense closeness with the druid, even though it had not quite been a fortnight since he’d met Halsin. But what delicious days they had been, the best he'd experienced in centuries, all without having to sell his body for the Arch Druid's time or affection. Moments filled with combat and comaraderie. Adrenaline and arousal. Intimacy and intelligent conversation. Until reaching the shadow-cursed lands.

A few yards away from Halsin’s tent, he shuffled his feet in the dirt. His hands twisted the strings on his tunic and his gaze fixed on the tent as he lost himself in thought. Since they arrived here, Astarion hadn't once felt the druid's calloused hand around his waist, nor received a playful nudge from his bear form. It made Astarion’s stomach churn, and his chest throbbed as if a stake had been driven through it. Has he lost interest in me? He wondered, feeling the stake twist in his heart.

Thaniel wasn't a lover, but Halsin appeared consumed by his obsession with the boy. The rotten feeling inside Astarion grew. He despised it; he wanted to support this noble, sweet fool.The vampire crossed his arms, his fingertips and sharp nails lightly digging into his skin. He wished he could cold-shoulder the druid in pettiness. But after the bloodshed of the day, Astarion was starving.

The campfire’s light cast his shadow against Halsin’s tent wall.

“Halsin? May I enter?” he asked, his tone soft and meek, filled with apology.

“Yes, Astarion, please join me,” Halsin replied from inside the tent.

Astarion’s mouth curved upward slightly. The druid didn't seem to hate him. He ducked inside the tent and shared the smile with Halsin, who had a book open in his cross-legged lap.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not,” the vampire said, eyes downcast to the ground. He lowered himself to a sit beside Halsin, his nimble fingers playing with the strings on his tunic.

“Your company is always welcome, Astarion,” Halsin rumbled, looking down at the slender vampire at his side. The druid’s expression was softer than Astarion expected.

“Er…well, thank you, for that,” Astarion replied. “Even when I’m just…hungry?” He winced at his own words. The vampire didn’t come only because he was hungry. But if Halsin wasn’t interested in his companionship or affection, he couldn’t admit that he had tucked tail and come begging for anything at all from the druid.

The large elf closed his book gently. “Oh, of course. I am sorry to not have thought about it earlier,” Halsin said, closing his eyes as well. “I feel well enough to offer my blood; Shadowheart is quite the healer, despite her Sharran loyalties.” The large elf reclined on his bedroll.

“Indeed,” Astarion replied flatly, lowering his torso to Halsin's and placing his mouth on the druid's neck. As he fed, he tried all the same tricks from his first feeding: flitting hands over Halsin's torso, his cool breath on the large elf's hot neck. But Halsin only stared at the tent wall; it was like feeding from a living corpse.

Astarion blinked back the moisture from the corners of his eyes and sat up, wiping blood from the corner of hips lips. Halsin was lost to him. Once was an oddity; twice was a pattern. Again, the druid had shown no arousal, no emotion, no reaction besides a grunt of pain.

“Well, thank you for the last supper, darling,” Astarion said, his voice detached and flat. “I suppose we’re done then.” He shuffled on his knees to sit further away from Halsin, his fingernails picking at the seams on his trousers.

The druid roused slowly, as though it took a moment for Astarion's words to sink in, like rain soaking into parched soil. “Last supper?” Halsin asked, his voice low. He shifted to sit on his knees and rubbed his forehead with his thick fingers. “Done with what? What do you mean?

Astarion glanced over his shoulder at the druid; he didn’t want to face the larger elf completely. “Oh, darling don’t play coy. It sounds like you’ll get answers from your Harper friends tomorrow at Last Light,” he said. “Then you’ll be off on your merry way!” The vampire flipped his slender hands in the air.

The druid met his gaze, his honey-hazel eyes scanning Astarion’s face. The vampire felt as though he were being inspected. “Astarion, what are you talking about?” Halsin asked.

“Please, Halsin, stop with the facade,” Astarion said, waving one hand towards the larger elf. “You know your old friends are here, challenging the Absolutists,” The pale elf’s gaze shifted to his knees; if he looked any longer at Halsin, the mist in his eyes would turn to tears. “You’re obviously closer to the idea of them than to us,” Astarion’s tunic became tight around his shoulders as he rounded them, bending into himself defensively.

He heard the rustle of Halsin’s movement on the bedroll. “Astarion,” the druid said softly, “Have you lost your senses?” He was too gentle. It hurt, this feigned bit of care, and it made the abscess in Astarion’s chest worsen.

“No, I certainly haven’t, but you have!” said the vampire. He could feel the color rising to his cheeks; Halsin’s fresh blood circulated within him. Astarion shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Over this Thaniel boy. Over this curse. You’ve less self-control than a beast!”

Halsin rose to his knees, his large form blocking the candlelight within the tent. He cast a shadow on Astarion. “Do not compare me to a beast, Astarion,” the druid replied, his voice almost a growl. Astarion felt the druid's forceful exhale on his pale skin. Halsin sat back on his haunches. “People see me in battle, or see my size and don’t think I can get hurt.. or have feelings.”

Astarion felt his eyes widen, and the moisture overflowed. Cool tears streamed down his porcelain cheeks. “I.. am sorry, Halsin,” he said so softly it was almost inaudible. “I am aware you can get hurt. Too aware.” The vampire’s voice sharpened, and he met Halsin’s eyes. The druid’s thick brows knit together upon seeing Astarion’s tears. “But today, it appeared as though you had forgotten that. You’re so willing to sacrifice yourself that you don’t see that you don’t have to.”

Halsin seemed to deflate at Astarion’s words like a drinking bladder emptying its contents. “I…must not lose focus until everything is put right. I’ve wasted too much time already - and nature has suffered.” He moved closer to Astarion and placed his broad hand on the vampire’s knee. Astarion chose not to react to his touch; he had to focus on fighting back his tears.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, which startled Halsin. “Oh darling, I didn’t peg you as self-centered, but here you are, making this about yourself,” Astarion said, seething as more tears streamed down his cheeks. He met Halsin’s fragile gaze with ferocity. “Do you think that one person could have stopped the goddess Shar? Really?” He gestured forcefully toward the open flap of the tent while maintaining his accusatory stare at Halsin.

The druid cast his gaze to the shadows outside the tent. His expression shifted several times as they sat in silence. Astarion could only assume the first was offense; but his last expression seemed to be understanding.

Halsin's hand remained on the vampire's knee, gripping snugly, his wide thumb rubbing gentle circles on Astarion's kneecap. “There was no one else to blame,” Halsin said finally, breaking the silence. “And, if I centered my rage at myself, I could not lash out at others in anguish. I could cage the bear and let it wound itself against the bars…”

Astarion's fingers shook as he gently placed his hand on top of Halsin's. “Come now Halsin,” he said, letting go of the pet name, “You’re older even than me. You know as well as I do that the world is cruel more often than not. You helped me understand that being cruel to oneself won't improve matters.” Astarion meant every word; Halsin's kindness and affection had been a soothing balm for his anxieties, keeping him from seeking affection through means he'd rather avoid.

Halsin met Astarion’s gaze and raised his hand to the vampire’s cheek. His large thumb wiped away the cool tears. “You possess more wisdom than you give yourself credit for, Astarion,” he said, tilting his head as he smiled. A deep exhale escaped the druid's lips, and the sigh ruffled Astarion's curls. "I offer you my apologies."

Astarion momentarily forgot himself, savoring the warmth of Halsin's palm as he leaned into it. The touch provided a brief reprieve from the gnawing pain of no longer occupying a special place in the druid's heart. After a moment of allowing himself happiness, the pale elf pulled his face away from Halsin’s gentle hold. “I.. appreciate that darling,” he said, an airy laugh escaping his lips. “Because, foolish as I am, I'm still here with you... despite your loss of interest.” He lifted his wine-red gaze to meet Halsin's, searching for any hint of intent in the subtle expressions that played across the druid's face. What he found was utter confusion.

“Dear heart, what are you talking about,” Halsin asked, his hand falling from Astarion's cheek to his pale, slender neck. His thumb traced the vampire's bite scars with tenderness.

"Oh, please," Astarion began, his hands gesturing at himself with a hint of flippancy. "Just acknowledge that I'm just a pretty distraction to pass the time whilst our ‘fates are aligned’.” Cool tears welled up in his eyes once more, then ran down his cheeks again, like raindrops sliding off a marble sculpture. They sparkled in the gentle candlelight of Halsin's tent.

Halsin's mouth opened, his tongue twitching as he searched for words that eluded him. “Astarion, I am deeply grateful to Silvanus for allowing our paths to cross, but-” The druid’s words were cut short.

“Yes, yes, and 'it was delightful while it lasted’,” Astarion interjected, his head jerking to the side as tears cascaded down his cheeks, dripping onto Halsin's calloused hand. “But tomorrow you’ll find Thaniel, and then you'll whisk him away into the woods, leaving me to..” Astarion choked back a sob, which soon wracked his shoulders. “I'll be abandoned.”

Before Astarion could react further, he found himself pulled tightly against Halsin's broader form. The druid's thick arms enveloped the vampire's torso, his legs parting as he drew Astarion closer. Astarion was almost entirely ensconced in Halsin's embrace. “My dear Astarion,” Halsin began, his voice a deep, gentle rumble emanating from his chest. “You won't be abandoned. I want to be with you. I-"

Astarion attempted to pull his torso away but found it was a futile effort. He shook his head in frustration. “Don’t fill my head with that nonsense, druid,” he said, sniffling to clear his runny nose. “Not when I have nothing to value; only burdens to carry.” Despite the embarrassment of his tears, he looked into Halsin's kind eyes. He needed to know for certain what Halsin wanted.

“Astarion, that is untrue. You spoke such wisdom moments ago: we can rely on each other whenever our burdens are too great,” Halsin said, his voice almost a whisper. “I want to help you with yours…” The druid squeezed his arms around Astarion, coaxing a whimper from the smaller elf. “I care for you,” Halsin continued. He smiled at the pale elf - a genuine one, radiating from his kind eyes.

Halsin hooked his large finger under Astarion’s chin, to bring the vampire’s gaze to his. “Astarion, my heart does not stir lightly, and yet…it soars just to look upon you. I value you beyond measure. Think of the times you have fought beside me in battle, your prowess with arrow and dagger are invaluable; you have saved my hide more than once. And of the many evenings your company brought great comfort to me when we sit together and read. I treasure your astounding intellect, even when your well-thought arguments are against my own! And I can always depend on you to bring laughter to my lips, as sure as the sun will rise each day. Those moments are all so precious, so valuable to me…I want to never be without you.”

Astarion closed his eyes, allowing more tears to fall. The sensation of soft, warm lips on his cheek made his eyes flutter open. Halsin’s lips traveled up from his cheek, to kiss the corners of Astarion’s eyes; to kiss away the vampire’s tears. To kiss away his fears.

“Regardless of any burdens you have, Astarion,” Halsin continued, saying the vampire's name like a song, like a hymn, a prayer of tenderness and care. The druid's lips met Astarion's other cheek, kissing away his salty tears. “And despite the challenges ahead… Astarion, dear heart. My heart.” The druid paused and placed another kiss on the pale elf’s forehead.

Astarion's plush, pale lips parted, but he had no words, no witty response, no wry observation. He simply gazed at Halsin, his eyes shimmering with renewed hope.

A moment passed; thick with tenderness and desire. And when Halsin pressed his mouth to Astarion’s cool lips, only a surprised, pleased whimper escaped the pale elf. Halsin’s kiss was so very soft. Deliciously tender, as he pulled Astarion’s lower lip between his own. Passionate, as he suckled it gently before pulling away. Halsin did not slip a greedy tongue into Astarion’s mouth, like the lustful kisses the vampire had known over the years.

He placed another chaste kiss on Astarion’s now-reddened lips before pulling his own just far enough away to speak. “I am here with you now, Astarion. And I will always return to your side.”

[laurfilijames]

Rayyyyyyy I still can't get over this reblog 🥹😭💗 you're honestly too good to be true and I still wonder what I did to deserve a reader and friend like you!

I had to open a separate device so I could easily type out my reply while rereading yours because there's so much 🤣 AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY YOU DONT EVEN KNOW!!!!

Will was trying his best to keep his cool but, like you said, him realizing he was close to really losing us had gotten too deep and he couldn't fight it anymore.

He definitely balances the line very carefully of being rough but every single act and touch is all with the utmost love.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 that old hag Ray I'm losing it!!! I'm so relieved you can see that's one of the many ways they communicate. THANK YOU FOR GETTING IT!!

I love the start of the "podcast" with this🥂 it makes me all warm and fuzzy 🥰:

Yes so for this whole part I never once wanted it to feel jealous or spiteful. That's not Will in my opinion. It's definitely more a possessiveness because of everything that happened and a lay of claim. He's someone who feels everything so deeply and as you said, knows how lucky he is and how rare and precious a love like this is. The glasses analogy totally makes sense!!! I was like YESSSSS when I read it!! Will always knew what he had before all the mess happened, but after finding out about the potential of Cam stealing away everything for good or even just having a TASTE of his girl, he was more aware of the repercussions of his actions more than ever and will do everything in his power to never let that happen again.

🤣🤣 you definitely get a gold star ⭐️, A+ 💯 and gigantic squeeze from me for your keen intuition on fully and completely understanding what I was going for in this scene!!!!

And you're absolutely right that there was emphasis put on those possessive words I just didn't italicize them because I was hoping the point made it across all on its own.

With them locking eyes when he walked in the bar; yessss I know it might be cheesy or whatever and SOME PEOPLE don't see that as a proper way of communicating but since the beginning with them, that has always been how they're absolutely sure with each other and non-verbal communication is so strong because they're that in-tune with each other!!!!

OKAY THE SHIP NAME JENNY THOUGH!!!! I'm obsessed. Jess @rhoorl is one of my very dearest friends here and her love for Benny is like no other so I just had to have her as a cameo as I try to do at some point or another in all my fics and we are both giddy over you creating the ship name!!! 💗 I ran to her right away and screamed at her about it 🤣

I'm so glad you love how in love they are. Sometimes I worry it's all too much and cliche or unrealistic but THATS WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT and I will continue to indulge that way for the rest of the story and many others to come 😤

Ahhhhhhhhh I am kicking my feet that you loved the singing and dipping scene so much!!! After all the hurt I needed to add some light and sweet moments and as quiet as Will is, this just screamed to me like something he would do 😍

Those gif reactions are exactly me reacting to you reacting that same way while getting "your moment" 🥰🥰💗💗

Bros will be bros amiright??? Even as adults they can still act like turds to each other.

I'm sorry that bit made you sad! You're absolutely right that had he not gone through everything he did with his ex and working through his PTSD he wouldn't have landed here.

Okaaaayyyyy but you've totally disarmed me and broken my brain with that imagery of him sweaty and naked under the moonlight 😵‍💫🫠 we'll see if I can work that in somewhere because damn 🥵

🤣🤣🤣 always wet for Will Miller 💦💦💦

Playful, happy Will is always my favourite too!!! He's usually so serious and broody so I love giving him moments where he's relaxed and unburdened 😍

Ray I am so filled with emotions at how much you have loved this series and this chapter and I never know how I can thank you enough and express my gratitude 🥹💗💗💗 It's been hard to work on this chapter and the next one knowing that it'll all be over soon and having that comment stuck in my head so having you be here to support my story in such generous and amazing ways has been helping to keep me going more than you know.

I was so worried about including that song because I don't think it's to many people's tastes but I love it and it's so light and fun and flirty (and Riley 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵💪) so knowing you appreciated that scene is everything!!!

Anytime I'm in doubt I'm doing to come back to your comments and especially that gif of Snoop to remind myself that I do have something to be proud of 🙌

I love you dearly thank you thank you thank you to the moon and back 💗💗💗💗

Breathe

Part 9

Pairing: Will Miller x female reader

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Unprotected intercourse. Alcohol consumption. Swearing.

Summary: Will's feelings come to light in the aftermath of your run-in with Cam, and after more rifts between the two Miller brothers, your relationship progresses to the next step.

A/N: I'm not sure how many chapters will be left as this series starts to come to a close, but I hope you enjoy this next one and continue to be patient with me while updates take longer. Below is the link to the song featured in this chapter ⬇️

Series Masterlist

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“Are you sure you’re not upset?”

“I’m sure.”

Will heard you sigh, and stood from where he knelt in front of the open fridge, meeting eyes with you as you held the door for him and passed him groceries to put away.

Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth, the same worried expression you’d had on your face the whole way back to his place still dressing your features.

He wouldn’t deny he felt something.

Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Not jealousy or even that he felt threatened by Cam, but something in him burned and had made him turn quiet in the truck, his thoughts taking him away which in turn made you anxious.

Each time he looked at you those undetermined feelings grew, brewing inside him with a demand to be acted on, making Will feel on-edge and short, his mind constantly mulling over the interaction and imagining the one that had happened at the bar that he didn’t witness, and the more he thought, the less he said.

You had turned away after handing him the last of the food needing to go in the fridge, working on unpacking a bag into the cupboards, and without thinking, Will walked over to you and grabbed the box of cereal out of your hand and placed it on the counter.

His look was stern while yours was confused, neither of you speaking as you shared a loaded glance that might have finally revealed everything he was feeling, his hand grabbing the hair at the back of your neck and tugging, angling your head to tilt back before he crashed his lips against your open mouth, kissing you hard.

Your hands tore at his shirt, untucking it from the waist of his jeans and then moving to the buckle on his belt, your kisses desperate and wanting.

Before you had a chance to get any further, Will roughly turned you around, his large form hovering over you from behind, his breath hot on your ear.

His hand slid between your legs, stroking you through your jeans from the back, the pressure he was applying making the material rub on your aching cunt in a wonderfully cruel way.

“Bedroom. Now.”

The way he growled those two words made you moan with need, your entire body alight and tingling with arousal, feeling his large hand splay out on the small of your back just as it had earlier when you had run into Cam.

You did as you were told, marching to his room despite your legs feeling numb from the nervous excitement pulsing through you, knowing if you stopped or hesitated, Will would simply pick you up and get you there himself.

You stepped inside and spun around, holding your breath as you watched him slam the door behind him, his eyes darkened and heavy with a level of desire that made your heart thunder in your chest and your cunt pulse with need.

He ripped his shirt over his head and then stepped toward you, gripping your chin with enough force but still somehow gently, your eyes fluttering closed as a heaviness that you knew was from lust overtook them.

You moaned softly when you felt his thumb graze over your bottom lip, waiting, hoping, wanting him to unleash whatever it was he was experiencing on you.

“Will…”

His name came off your lips so sweetly, so softly, followed by a small sigh that was mixed with a whimper, the sound making every part of him ignite with a need to claim you.

Still holding your chin between his finger and thumb, he crashed against your mouth, his tongue diving in deeply to taste you, swallowing each breathy cry that passed through your lips.

After a moment he let his hand fall to your neck, gently cradling your vulnerable column in his grasp, the thrum of your heartbeat vibrating against his palm as he reluctantly broke away from your kiss, his hands moving to grip the hem of your shirt and lift it off of you.

You looked at him calmly and full of trust, a tell in your gaze that he knew no one else would ever be lucky enough to receive and he would never take for granted.

You hummed and closed your eyes when his fingers slowly unfastened the button on your jeans, your body completely still other than your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he slid the zipper down and pulled the denim to the floor.

Will pressed a kiss on your bare thigh while he helped you step out of each leg, moving up to pepper across your hips, and you squirmed slightly at the sensation as his hands splayed out on your waist, his nose running up from your navel to your chest and further still to your neck as he stood tall again.

He spun you around, his mouth landing on your neck as he peeled the straps of your bra down each arm, moving to kiss each shoulder in turn once they were bare, one of his hands unclasping the hook at your back.

His lips returned to your neck, sucking and licking at your tender skin, his fingers reaching around to pluck at your nipples that hardened from being uncovered and from his touch, your bum pressing into his cock that strained in his jeans when you arched into him.

He sighed against your skin, relishing in this moment, knowing only he got to undress, reveal and expose every sacred part of you increasing his desire to love you even harder.

Keeping one hand on your body, squeezing and caressing your flesh, he used his other to unfasten his jeans, ridding them as quickly as he could, his cock springing out to hit your cheeks when he pulled his boxers down his legs. Done with undressing himself, he slid his hand in the waist of your panties, rubbing your clit and smearing your slick up until you were whining and your breathing was growing ragged, your body simultaneously moving into and away from his touch.

“On the bed,” he ordered, his voice gruff.

You took a step forward, crawling on your hands and knees onto the mattress, the view making his cock twitch. He eagerly followed, his fingers catching in the waist of your panties to pull them over your ass as you moved forward, showing him your wet cunt that was more than ready for him.

Him and only him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, swiping two fingers through your folds, his eyes locked on your core like he was in a trance.

“Will, please,” you begged, your plea his to fulfill.

His.

He leaned over you, his hand smoothing over one of your cheeks to spread it apart, his thumb brushing your puckered hole as he did, his other bracing on the bed beside yours where he covered it and locked his fingers between yours.

Edging closer to you, he rubbed his groin against your lifted ass, his dick knocking against you as he settled behind you and between your legs.

Will moved his hips back and forth, dragging his cock along your folds, your hips lifting to try to land him inside your waiting pussy, and finally he did, a low groan coming from him as you cried and gripped the sheets with your free hand.

“Will!” you wailed, needily and submissively.

He pulled out slowly and drove back in again, filling you with himself, watching you melt to his movements.

It was his cock you were taking, your pleasure brought on by him, the reminder making him almost feel dizzy.

He moved the hand that was groping the flesh on your hips down to your stomach, securing it on you as he shifted forward to move you both further onto the bed, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusted.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” he urged, swelling with pride as you promptly abided, never hesitating to follow his instructions out of the pure love and trust you had in him.

Covering your body with his, he laid on top of you, rutting deeply into you with powerful strokes, the fat head of his cock hitting your g-spot each time.

He kissed your upper back, shoulders and neck, feeling you move under his weight as much as you could, your sweet moans filling the air and filling him with a satisfaction like no other.

He swore each time he pressed his lips against your neck you would declare your love for him, singing it over and over as your mantra that gave him every bit of confidence that no one else would ever have the privilege to be loved by you.

“Fuck – I love you, Will!”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he would insist in return every time, never missing an opportunity to tell you and never wanting your love for him to feel unreciprocated.

“God, Will…” you continuously moaned, his name never sounding sweeter than off your lips.

He thrusted in you deeper, slower, giving you everything he had, your body responding to his generous pleasure in fits of cries and the roll of your hips.

He growled against your neck.

It was him who was making you moan and writhe with pleasure.

His cock filling you up.

His mouth tasting your sweat and feeling the softness of your skin.

You squeezed his hand, a signal of nearing your peak, encouraging him to fuck you harder and more thoroughly than ever, a sense of avariciousness blanketing him and turning him feral.

“I want to hear you scream my name,” he barked, his teeth grazing the skin on your nape where you shuddered and took in a sharp breath.

You reacted almost immediately to his ministrations, your form tensing below him, your muscles spasming and tightening, choking him as you came hard and soaked his cock that he pumped in and out of you furiously, his hand that wasn’t still holding yours sliding under your body to massage your clit.

His name cut through the air sharply.

Loud and unrestrained.

His name and no one else’s.

He bucked into you wildly, his open mouth smearing spit across your shoulder, continuing to rub your swollen bud roughly until he felt you explode around him again, all of it leading to his own end.

Your tight walls coaxed every drop of cum out of him, pulsing and drawing every ounce of his hot load, filling you to the brim as you squirmed underneath him, his eyes finally able to focus again where he saw your own saliva staining the sheets beside your face, your cheeks wet with tears and sweat, and you’d never looked so beautiful.

Will quickly pulled out of you and flipped you over so you were on your back, pushing back into your messy cunt while he grabbed your hand and locked your fingers together, bringing them up beside your head as he kissed you fiercely, still doing everything in his power to show you that only he could love you this much.

“Will…” you breathed when given a moment to, angling your hips to put him deeper inside you, the way you called his name different than just moments ago; full of love and adoration and devotion, just as you were still full of him.

He smiled against your lips, confident that no matter what, his was the name that would always tumble from your fucked-out lips, your body and heart his to possess.

You were sure it was just the drinks and the music and being with your friends that had you smiling the way you were, but as you sat at the well-used table at the country bar downtown and your mind began to drift to thoughts of Will, you knew the grin on your lips was all down to him.

“Man, you’ve really got it bad,” Grace laughed, like she knew exactly what you were thinking.

You simply nodded and shrugged, knowing there was no point in denying it or trying to pretend otherwise.

“And you said he has a brother, right?” your other friend Jess asked, having joined the three of you tonight.

Nicole nodded enthusiastically, “He’s just your type, too.”

“You don’t say! Well if he’s even half as good looking and satisfying as Will apparently is, I’ll have won the lottery!”

“I can introduce you,” you chimed, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I won’t hold my breath! It took us enough to just get you out of Will’s bed to come out with us tonight.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up, and you looked down at the table, your finger tracing in the wet ring of condensation from your glass, thinking back to that last few days and how simply perfect everything was.

Despite having spent every moment possible together, you felt like a part of you was missing, having agreed to peel away from each other so you could see your girlfriends and Will could go out with the guys after Benny’s fight, no amount of time together feeling like it was ever enough.

As if you sensed it, you looked up and through the crowd dancing between the bar and the front door, seeing five familiar men strut through, a pair of icy blue eyes locking with yours.

You laughed and bit your lip, more heat coursing through your body as Will matched your smile and winked at you, and you gave a wave to Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Tom who all made their way to the bar to get drinks.

“Out of all the bars…” Tom said with a chuckle, and you heard him ask the bartender to send another round of the same drinks to your table.

“We won’t bother you ladies!” Santiago called, earning some comebacks from the girls, but all you and Will could do was share a look that made your heart beat faster in your chest and butterflies swarm in your stomach.

Benny scoffed at Santiago’s remark. “Well now, I didn’t agree to that…” he drawled.

His blue eyes were fixed on Jess, grabbing his beer and sauntering over where he pulled out a chair and sat backwards on it next to her, introducing himself with as much confidence as ever despite the fresh bruises and cuts on his face.

The rest of the guys went and found their own table not too far off, forcing you to try to pretend like it wasn’t killing you to be so close yet so far away from Will, having a perfect view of him laughing and talking with his buddies and brothers-in-arms, vowing to focus on your own friends who you loved more than anything and deserved your attention.

It was almost thrilling in a way, acting as if you weren’t head over heels in love with each other and were strangers instead, sharing loaded glances across the tables that separated you that gave a hint of the types of fantasies playing out in your minds that were in fact very real and recent memories, feeling like every song that played was about you.

Jess and Benny were hitting it off, tucked together closely in their own little world while you, Nicole and Grace continued on with your night, laughing and singing and dancing, and whenever you checked over at the other table, Will and the other guys were relaxed and enjoying themselves.

Another hour or so had passed, a decent, warm buzz flowing through your veins as you watched Will lean against the bar nursing his beer while chatting with Frankie.

You continued to refrain from going over to him, choosing to admire him from afar and wait until you got back home to get your hands on him, but every time you saw the muscles in his back flex whenever he moved it became increasingly difficult, your draw to him its own beast.

The way he would look over his shoulder at you didn’t help your cause either, his gaze loaded and full of a knowledge of exactly what was happening with your body each time he did, completely honed in on the way you would shift in your seat like he was perfectly aware of how wet your panties were or how it felt whenever your shirt grazed over your peaked nipples.

You had just given yourself another reminder to be patient and wait until you were home to talk to him, knowing if you went within a foot of him your hands wouldn’t be able to stop touching his thick, warm body and you would be inclined to press your lips on every part of him you could while trying to remain respectable in a public setting, but then your favourite song came on and any restraint you scarcely had went right out the window.

‘You Look Like You Love Me’ by Ella Langley and Riley Green came over the speakers, pulling an even broader smile out on your cheeks until they hurt, and without hesitation, you were on your feet and essentially floating over to Will.

You were already singing the lyrics, watching as Will’s grin stretched wider and his chest moved with a chuckle, a look that was full of endearment directed at you as you stood beside him and sang to him.

“Excuse me, you look like you love me,” you sang, your hand trailing up his arm and across his back, your touch making him melt as he continued to smile and nod in agreement to the words of the song.

He pivoted to face you, his large hands landing on your hips that swayed to the tempo, a familiar hunger mixing with the adoration on his features.

“You look like you want me to want you to come on home…”

He nodded again, a quiet ‘Yeah’ sounding off his breath.

Before you could get another line out his mouth was covering yours, bending you back to dip you as he supported you with his arm on your lower back, your friends all cheering around you.

You gasped for air when he pulled you up again and broke your kiss, seeing him lick his lips that were still stretched in the most gorgeous, crooked smirk, and you knew you couldn't be expected to wait any longer to have him.

“Take me home, Will,” you whispered, a seriousness falling over your words despite the cheery tone of the song still playing around you.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purred, his lust-filled eyes flickering over your features.

Will made sure rides were arranged before you left, confirming with Frankie that he would help get the rest of the group home in his truck and that the other girls would get a cab as was previously planned.

“I can’t believe Benny and Jess,” he commented, smiling as he looked back over his shoulder at them while he held the door open for you.

“They suit each other,” you said warmly, a sense of contentment and joy filling you and feeling like everything was finally turning out right.

Raindrops sprinkled on your head when you stepped outside, the night air dewy and warm, breathing in the smell of rain instead of stale smoke and spilled beer.

The lights on Will’s truck flashed twice as he hit the button on his keys to unlock it, illuminating the steady streams of rain that seemed to be falling more with each second.

You went to step around to the passenger side, but stopped when Will called to you.

“Hey, get back here.”

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and a playful grin tugged up one side of his mouth, his hands held out with his palms facing upward for you to take which you happily did.

He closed his hands around yours and pulled you into him, kissing you hard, a low chuckle rumbling through you as he wrapped his arms around your back and held you closer to him.

You let out a squeal that was swallowed by him, the rain falling faster and harder and soaking through your clothes within seconds, the sound of each drop hitting the hood of his truck echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet parking lot.

You threw your arms up around the back of his neck, arching your body into his, his hands roaming your back and lower to your bum, squeezing and groping you without shame.

“Mmm,” he growled against your lips, slowing your kiss as he brought his hands up to hold either side of your face.

The smile on your lips was lazy and swollen and they glistened with moisture from both the rain and his mouth, the orange glow from the light pole in the corner of the parking lot illuminating them and making him even hungrier to get you home.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he declared, kissing you again as the rain continued to fall down on you, feeling rushed and unhurried all at once.

Will sighed for the third time, adjusting his pillow on the bed and turning over frustratedly.

You didn't say anything, waiting to see if he would calm down or if the situation was about to escalate.

Benny’s t.v. was so loud in his room it was as if it was on the nightstand beside Will’s bed, and his loud laughter that followed the noise of the show was just as extreme.

“Ben!” Will shouted, propping himself up and hitting the wall behind him with his hand.

He waited a few seconds but nothing changed, the volume remaining the same as he clearly went unheard.

“Ben!” he yelled again, hitting the wall three more times. “Turn it down, man! Fuck!”

He fell back against his pillow hard, breathing out heavily as he ran his hand over his face.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Do you want to go to my house instead?” you offered, knowing this likely wasn't going to end well, the tension between the two brother’s having increased over the past week.

They were all little grievances that seemed to be adding up; getting in each other’s way or eating the last of whatever food, a mess left in the kitchen or one of them doing a load of laundry while the other was in the shower, the small spats evolving into something you knew would come to a head.

Benny laughed even harder and Will shook his head in agreement. “Yeah. Before one of us punches the other.”

“You mean you punching him?” you giggled, climbing out of bed to get dressed.

“Exactly,” Will said, his eyebrows high on his forehead as he stood and grabbed his boxers from the floor and then a t-shirt. “I love the kid and I appreciate him taking me in, but man does he ever get on my nerves sometimes.”

You stopped where you were on the opposite side of the bed, frozen and without thinking as you blurted out something you had been considering for weeks now.

“Move in with me.”

Will stopped too, his hands landing on his hips after having pulled on his track pants. staring at you across the queen sized mattress.

“What?”

“Move in with me,” you repeated, smiling as you shrugged, your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the grin on his face grow.

“Really?” he asked, his tone and expression completely surprised.

“Yeah, really.”

You stood there nodding, watching his features change from shocked to elated, an emotion turning his blue eyes as wet as the waters they resembled as he walked over to you and grabbed hold of your face, leaning down to kiss you.

It had felt a bit silly to keep going back and forth between houses, one of you usually forgetting something you needed or having double of everything so you didn’t have to drag everything to and from, and since you got back together there wasn’t a night you could go without sleeping beside each other.

You were so nervous to ask, but this seemed to be the best way to go about it, your instincts taking over and giving you the confidence needed to get out of your own head and dive in, knowing from his reaction that he wouldn't be anything other than happy and excited.

He pulled away from you and looked at you with so much love and appreciation in his eyes, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he worked to get his words out.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he began, glancing down briefly between your bodies to try to control his emotions. “I've spent so long never having a home, bouncing from place to place between deployments, and when I did have my own,” he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “the other person didn’t want me to be a part of it.”

It always broke your heart to hear of the hell his ex put him through, unable to believe someone could treat him so poorly when all he ever was was loving and honourable, and it made your decision in asking him to live with you even more right.

“I want you, Will. I want all of you, always,” you whispered, nudging his cheek with your nose, feeling his breath gasp out onto your lips when he exhaled a relieved cry.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him tight until he was ready to pull away from you.

“Let’s go home, Miller,” you smiled, holding his hands where he squeezed yours three times.

He pulled in your driveway and parked his truck just as he had all the other times before, only this time it felt different.

Your house had always felt like home to him, but now it actually was, and the feeling he had in his chest was overwhelming.

“You can start moving your stuff over tomorrow,” you said, making him look over at you with a soft smile. “I’ll be at work but you might as well get a start.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded, smiling bigger.

You both got out of the truck and started walking toward the door, you filing through the keys on your keychain for the one for the front door.

“I’ll get you one made tomorrow,” you said, putting it in the lock.

“Are you sure you want this?” Will asked, making you stop what you were doing and turn to face him.

A solemn look was on his face, his apprehension and insecurity clear on his features even in the dark.

“Will…” you urged, stepping toward him. “I’ve never been more sure. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He smirked and looked down at the porch, sighing as he seemed to realize that his anxiety was getting the better of him.

“I was thinking about asking you for a while now, I was just nervous and thought it was too soon or you wouldn’t want to–”

He cut you off when he crashed his mouth against yours, pulling you into him at the same time he turned the doorknob to open the door, walking inside while still attached to your lips.

You broke apart after a minute, and you stood breathless as you watched Will gently close the door, keeping eye contact with you the whole time.

The smile he gave you and the look in his eyes lit your skin on fire, and you held your breath without thinking, watching as he walked toward you slowly.

“If this is going to be our house,” he spoke carefully, “Then I’m going to need to fuck you on every, single, surface…”

He closed the space between you, forcing you to lean back against the small hall table that sat on the wall, the clink of his keys in the dish where you kept yours making you jump.

“Starting now.”

A wicked smile that made you melt dressed his gorgeous lips, his face hovering beside yours but not touching you, teasing and testing your patience.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he cooed, and as you did, your track pants were already being tugged down your hips, your panties along with them, and you braced your hands on the wall knowing that the table wouldn’t support the force he was about to unleash on you.

“Are you wet for me, baby?” he asked, driving his hand between your legs where he stroked through your folds to check.

You gasped at the sensation and pressed your hips down to increase the contact, needing to feel as much of him as you could even if you weren’t ready to take him yet.

It didn’t take long though, feeling your slick accumulate and spread on his fingers the moment he planted his lips on your neck and started kissing you, your moans sounding out to mix with his heavy breathing as he got more worked up with each second that ticked by.

You reached behind you and grabbed his hard cock through his pants, running your palm up and down his length that strained through the soft material, his teeth nipping at the skin on your neck in response.

“Fuck, sweetheart, let me in that pussy,” he growled, pulling his pants down where his cock sprung free and you were able to massage the silky, bare skin before he shoved it between your cheeks and dragged it in and out to prep it with your arousal.

Just to be sure you were lubricated enough, Will spit in his hand and covered his shaft, his teeth clenching together tight as he did, watching you arch your back to shift your ass closer to him, your legs spread to display your waiting cunt for him.

He drove in hard between your folds, filling you in one swift movement, his thrust slamming you forward with such force it jolted the table against the wall, your hands flying up to stop yourself from falling into it too.

Will didn’t seem to care about marking up the paint or how unsteady you were on your feet, hammering into you with a ferocity that made your head spin and your body respond by succumbing to his movements, feeling your climax already building quickly, a shiver running up your spine.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his pace increasing despite you finding it unbelievable that it could, and he wrapped one hand around to your front that wasn’t holding your hips to keep you on his cock, grabbing at your tits that shook under your thin t-shirt.

You did everything you could to find something to hold onto, the wall no use with your hands slipping down it, the table shaking violently in front of you, but it was all you had, and as you landed your palms on it you saw the dish holding both your sets of keys in it wobble to the edge and fall, the glass smashing on the floor.

A laugh escaped you, quickly turning into a cry as Will continued to destroy you, his name coming off your lips in a mix of a plea and a praise.

“God, Will!”

The tip of his cock hit your g-spot with each blow, making you ache and melt with each second that passed, your mouth hanging slack while uncontrollable moans came out of it, your resolve reduced to nothing.

“Look at you taking my cock so well,” he praised, a bit of amusement heard in his voice, giving your nipple a twist before lowering his hand to your clit where he rubbed it quickly and aggressively as he kept his brutal tempo.

“Fuck!” you wailed, your eyes squeezing shut as your body jolted from his advances, slipping between falling apart and holding off your imminent orgasm, wanting it to happen just as badly as you wanted this to never end.

“God damn,” he muttered, stealing a glance down at his cock disappearing in and out of your cunt that leaked and coated him with your cream.

That addictive, blinding euphoria ripped through you, making you buckle and collapse in a spasm but Will was there to catch you, supporting you with his arms wrapping around your torso while he rammed into you and prolonged your high, letting up something he could never consider.

Broken wails of his name decorated with curses spilled from your mouth, feeling your body start to come back to functioning right when he was losing his control, his grunts bellowing out loud and clear behind you as he used you to fuck to his end.

He held you close to him, gripping your flesh tight as he bucked furiously into you and filled you with his cum, and you purposefully squeezed your walls around his pulsing cock to draw every last drop out of him.

The scruffiness of his beard scratched your neck, adding to the overwhelming sensations already bombarding you, feeling goosebumps erupt on your skin as you shivered and his breath blew out on the wet spots left behind on your neck from his mouth.

He stuttered his hips against your ass one last time, a quiet curse coming off his lips as he started to settle from his high.

Will pulled out of you and assessed the area around you, seeing the shattered glass to the left of where you both stood, and carefully kneeled on the rug, his hands smoothing down your waist, his lips meeting the soft skin on your hips and bum.

He heard your smile, a sated noise passing off your lips, making him ache to have you close to him again and not wanting to move on from this moment quite yet.

Grabbing your hand, he tugged on it for you to follow him.

“Come here a sec,” he requested quietly, looking up at you as you turned around and complied, meeting him on the floor where he pulled you to lay with him.

Will sighed and let his head thud against the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling as he relished in the movement of your fingers gently sweeping up and down his stomach after having lifted his shirt up, your head nestled on his chest.

“So, every room in the house?” you asked, a playfulness clear in your voice.

“Not just every room,” he corrected. “Every surface.”

You squealed when he pinched your ass, pulling you tighter to his body where his laugh rumbled through him and onto you, your hand dancing up the trail of blond hairs that connected his navel to his groin.

You shifted your feet and kicked one of your sets of keys that had fallen, the jingle of them making you giggle and readjust your head on his chest after glancing to see you hadn’t hit any of the broken glass.

Will grabbed a chunk of it and held it up. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“You better wait to see what else we end up breaking.”

He laughed and let the piece fall back onto the floor beside him, turning his head to press a kiss on the top of yours, and inhaled another deep, satisfied breath as he closed his eyes, thinking how lucky he was to be loved by you.

---

Taglist:

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[theyoutubedork]

𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖆 - 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

Bucky Barnes x Hydra!enhanced!reader

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Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: Adjusting to a life without Hydra has been difficult for Y/n, but Bucky is there to guide her.

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, and sexual themes. swearing, i think, and mentions of violence and abuse. (Hydra stuff) Also panic-attack like situations, sensory overload, mentions of torture.

Not my Gif, had not been proofread too much

A/N: I’m sorry for the wait, I got a job and stuff, but I tried to write it a little bit longer, but I still wanted to leave y’all with a little bit of a cliffhanger, just to keep ya interested. Please let me know what you think of the series. I was thinking of making a tag list for this series, so let me know if you are interested in that sort of thing. You can sign up for it here

“That’s my name?”

“Yes. That’s your name. Not Soldat. Not Belladonna. Just Y/n.”

Bucky looked into your eyes, and his stare almost suffocates you with how tender its was. You were confused. The Winter Soldier, the only person Hydra could truly love. A man that you had worked so hard to be his exact replica, the only difference acceptable was height. Hydra had curated you specifically to be his replacement, to carry on the mantle of death, destroying empires in your wake. You had been trained with the same ruthless dogma as him: no mercy, no witnesses, no mistakes. Those three principles were always on a dull repeat in the back of your subconscious

You envied him; his strength, his cunning, but secretly, his freedom. A part of you hated him, being reminded of how many times Hydra compared you to him. They were always saying words along the lines of, “You will always be weaker than him,” during their spiteful reveries.

But now here you were, face to face with that man, completely vulnerable before him, and you don’t know whether you like it or not.

You brush off his gaze, not willing to endure the strange feeling you get within the pit of your stomach whenever you meet his eyes. You look down at your forearms, and you reach up to your scalp, cringing at the feeling of your oily, frayed hair.

“I don’t know that last time I took a bath,” You groan, scratching at your roots, and you whimper when your jagged nails make contact with the dry skin there.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a shower?” Bucky babbled, slightly embarrassed by the image that popped in his head the second you mentioned a bath. He barely knew you, but the way you looked at him sent him reeling.

Your eyes still reeked of innocence and somehow knowing what you had done made your expression slightly unsettling. Usually one would use the stereotyped version of a person with PTSD or some sort of deep trauma, their eyes would appear empty and lifeless, but yours just looked like one of a young hopeful, who had their whole life ahead of them. Bucky could swear that he had never seen such beautiful eyes before. How could they look so sweet, when in actuality they are slightly terrifying.

“No,” you spoke suddenly yet firmly, startling Bucky slightly due to your pause in response.

“O-oh, okay,” Bucky stuttered, “Right this way then,” He stumbled quickly to his feet, nearly tripping over his mass array of blankets on the floor next to the bed.

You stalk behind him, following him slowly towards his bathroom. You wait at the doorway while Bucky scrambles to move a bunch of clutter off of the marble counter. He quickly turns the knobs of the bathtub, the water spurting out, as if it had been rarely used up to that point, building up the ever-so-slightest pressure. You begin to strip your clothes out of habit, and when Bucky finally turns to you, seeing you topless, and already unbuttoning your pants, Bucky scrambles to hold you wrists still.

“No! You don’t have to..do that..anymore,” He murmured, not very surprised how shameless you presented. Hydra treated their assets like new car at the car wash: almost power washing all the blood off them, and often leaving more wounds on their bodies then before they were bathed. Stripped like the first day you were born, they were washed of all the evidence of being a killing machine, but most importantly, being a human being

“Oh, ok,” You murmur, and you wait until Bucky left the room to finish stripping, and finally set yourself in the steaming water. You barely winced as you felt the water sting your open wounds, and it was sickeningly satisfying. Bucky had appeared to put in some sort of bubble bath stuff, and you felt slightly out of place in such a calming environment. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, oh wait..

“Bucky?” You called out, slightly jumping at the almost immediate response, Bucky sliding his head rough a crack in the door. He was covering his eyes with his cybernetic palm,

“Yeah?” You see his eyebrows furrow and mouth curl into a small smile when he hears you let out a small laugh at his antics.

“Can you wash my hair? I-I don’t remember how.” You ask gingerly, and hear him let out a small sigh when he hears the tremble in your voice.

“Of course, did the bubbles work by the way? Wanna make sure I don’t see anything you don’t want me to see.”

“Yeah, its fine, there’s so many, you should be fine,” You murmur, and Bucky takes that as permission to open his eyes, entering the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him. He finally looks at you, and sees just the apex of your chest, and the delicate dips in your collarbones. You can see the familiar tinge of pink return to his cheeks and the very tips of his ears, yet you remain blissfully unaware of your effects on him. Bucky approached, grabbing a stool he kept in his storage closet, bringing it to the edge of the bathtub. He still towered over you, and he hesitantly grabbed his shampoo, opened his fleshed palm, and coated it with the soapy substance.

“I’m going to touch you now, ok?” He warned quietly, and you let out a small hum of encouragement. You turned, letting your back face Bucky. Bucky’s eyes couldn’t help but wander, and despite all the scars lettering your skin, he still thought it looked incredibly soft to the touch. He shook himself out of his thoughts, getting back to the task at hand. When his hand finally reaches your scalp, you flinch involuntarily. When Bucky starts to pull away, you grab his wrist tightly, making him yelp. You loosen immediately, a flash of embarrassment crossing your features.

“Sorry, I uh- I didn’t mean to flinch, I just- my body expects the worst. Keep going,” You murmured, and Bucky nods, starting to slowly massage your scalp, and immediately sigh in relief, finally letting your guard down enough to close your eyes. Your body finally seemed to understand that Bucky wasn’t here to hurt you, that this wasn’t just a dream, only to be woken back up into the monotonous hell you had been dealing with for what seemed like centuries.

You and Bucky fall into a steady rhythm, he would lather the soap into your hair several times, and you would bring up your knees, trying to cover yourself enough so that when Bucky used the detachable shower head to rinse it out, it would wash away all the bubbles. The warm water soothed your sore muscles, and you felt your cracked, withered skin replenish. You were basically half plant after all, so water was one of the only solaces you had when you were being kept by Hydra.

As Bucky continued to wash your hair, you began to think about what a life outside of Hydra could possibly mean for you.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you do when you escaped Hydra?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- what was like, the first thing you wanted to do when you first realized you were free?”

“Hmm, I think was actually washing my hair. It was always so dirty. Felt good to have it clean.”

“Yeah, but like, what sort of activity, something not out of necessity, but just because you wanted to?”

Bucky thought for a moment, pausing his ministrations,

“I’m not sure if I remember, cause I was kinda on the run for a while. I guess the only time I had a moment to myself was in Wakanda, and I got to tend to a small farm they gave me. I would just wake up every morning, look out on the lake for a while, and then go feed the goats. It was this nice routine I had, and it felt like I actually had some, calm, in Wakanda.”

“What’s Wakanda?”

“Oh right, it’s this country that only came on the map a few years ago, its like this hidden sanctuary in Africa. It’s hard to describe, so you’ll have to just see for yourself.”

You turned your head to the side, finally looking at him since he came into the bathroom. You nervously stared into his steady blues,

“Am I going to Wakanda?”

“Yes actually, you’re going to meet my friend Shuri, she’s going to help you.”

“When do I get to go?”

“I’m not sure. You might need to wait a bit,”

“Bucky?” You ask hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come with me? To Wakanda?” Bucky lets out a small laugh, rubbing your shoulder affectionately, trying to calm your nerves.

“Of course I’m coming with you, Y/n. You’re not going to do this alone, I’ll be with you 100% of the way.�� You think for a moment, and you place a shaky hand onto Bucky’s where it rests on your shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m just really scared.”

“I know you are. I was the same way, so I’m going to try and make you feel a little less scared ok?” He looks at you with a small smile, and you finally let a small smirk show on your face, and Bucky’s grows even wider. You take a moment before finally asking him something that’s been on your mind.

“Can I go outside?”

It had been a week and a half until you finally got your answer. Bucky insisted on having you meet everyone in the place you were staying, so they wouldn’t freak out when the deadly plant lady finally got to touch some grass. He didn’t use those words specifically, but you had deduced it from all the worried glances the rest of the ‘Avengers’ would look at Bucky with trepidation before shaking your hand. You expected people to be scared of you, hell you were scared of yourself. You constantly had to check in with yourself, taking a deep breath just to remind yourself that being a killing machine isn’t supposed to be your identity anymore. Bucky assured you to be patient, and as soon as Steve agreed to the idea, he’d bring you out to the nicest natural setting outside the compound.

You had barely spoken to anyone, aside from Bucky, and occasionally Steve. He had been happy to help you with any questions you had regarding to going about your new life in a world with technologies you have yet to comprehend. You were willing to give a small grimace that resembled a smile to anyone else in passing, but it had been more difficult to keep quiet in the last couple days. The almost animalistic instinct you had to touch something natural and made of soil, instead of cold metal, was beginning to greatly decrease your patience. You were willing to be ‘reformed’, but if they were going to subject you to this form of unintended torture any longer, you were afraid you were going to snap. You tried to ignore it for as long as possible, afraid that if you touch any aspect of nature, you would turn into her.

It didn’t work, given the state you’re currently are in, seated at the marbled kitchen island, Bucky cooking you both breakfast. He had finally convinced you to not hide away whenever you ate. You reluctantly sat there, holding a simple black mug, filled with a new tea brew that Wanda had made for you before she went off to training this morning. You hadn’t sipped from it just yet, knowing the teabag hadn’t fully incorporated yet. You picked up the string, swirling the teabag around, trying to speed up the process.

Meanwhile Bucky was humming an unfamiliar tune, surprisingly chipper. He was making you pancakes like he had promised, and he had his gaze trained on the pan, holding a spatula in his fleshed hand, while holding the pan handle with his bionic one. After a few moments, you finally blew onto the hot liquid, and took a small sip. Flavor notes of chamomile filled your senses, and instead of bringing a sense of warm calm, everything metallic you touched began to burn, as if your skin was allergic. You let out an uncomfortable groan, dropping the mug, not even flinching when you felt the tea burn your forearms. Bucky whipped his head around, and when he saw your skin red and inflamed, he called out your name, switching off the stove, completely disregarding the pancakes he had been so focused on prior. You didn’t even register his calls for you, stumbling off the barstool, running towards the sunspot, that was coming through the glass wall in the kitchen. As soon as your skin hit the sunlight, you felt a slight relief, the burn marks on your skin not stinging nearly as much. After a moment, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you instinctually grab the wrist attached, nearly snapping it if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick maneuvers.

“Hey! Y/N! It’s just me? What’s wrong? You burned yourself!” He stumbled, his eyes flitting across your features with worry. You relax slightly into his touch, but you can still feel an uncomfortable buzz throughout your body.

“I’m fine, I just really need to go outside.” You say through clenched teeth, trying not to lash out. You could easily break the glass, and run towards the forest you see on the horizon. It’s as if there was a string attached to you, and the tree line, and instead of an annoying pull ever once in a while, it was as if the string hooked into your skin, dragging you towards it.

“Y/N, I can’t…I need to ask Steve.” Bucky explains, unsure. You rip away your grip from his, and you struggle to breathe properly in the highly controlled atmosphere.

“Bucky, I need to go. Now. It feels like my body’s on fire.” You growl, stepping back into the sunspot on the floor, trying to control yourself from losing control. You begin to feel her presence, and you’re very scared at the possibility of hurting someone if you don’t get some fresh air.

“Y/n..” Bucky starts, but you hush him with a loud yell,

“If I don’t go out right now, I won’t hesitate to break this goddamn glass.”

“I need to talk to Steve,” Bucky pleaded with you but you shake your head furiously. You finally make eye contact with him, and when he sees a dreadful shade of violet flash in your eyes, you see him tense.

“Bucky, I don’t want to hurt you, please, just let me out, I won’t become her if you let me out, I promise,” You beg him, your breathing beginning to pick up in rapid pace. Bucky thinks for a moment, and he finally speaks,

“Friday open the closet exit, and alert Steve that I’m taking Y/n for a walk,”

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has not authorized…”

“Do it, or we’ll be in a lot of trouble..” Bucky interrupted her with a yell, and Friday seemed to sense his desperation, and when the glass wall slowly started to slide open, you immediately ran through, charging through the open field towards the forest.

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled after you, running after you. When he finally catches up to you, he finds you hunched over on all fours. Your hands were digging into the ground, digging through the layer of pine needles just to calm yourself down. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief when you finally meet his gaze. He finds no traces of the deadly Belladonna, just a calm, content look on your face. He kneels down next you, and when he finally has the courage to place a fleshed hand on your shoulder, you lean into his touch, finally relaxed. You take a deep, shuddered sigh, and you sit back on your heels, your fingernails detaching from the soil.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” You murmur, your actions finally catching up to you know that your body wasn’t having a complete meltdown.

“It’s ok, you just gotta tell me what happened, I was really worried about you for a minute there,” Bucky assured you, his thumb making small circles just below the dip in your shoulder, and you let out another sigh, letting Bucky relieving the tension trapped there.

Before you could speak, you hear heavy footsteps approaching, crushing the dead pine needles covering the forest floor. You both turn to see Steve, surprisingly out of breath. You see that he’s drenched in sweat, since at this time in the morning he’s leading training with the early birds of the compound. You feel regret seep into your veins when you see the frown on his face.

“Bucky what the hell happened?” Steve grumbled, running a hand through his sweaty locks. He towers over the both of you, and Bucky struggles to find an excuse, not understanding what happened himself.

“I’m sorry Steve, I just needed to go outside.” You sigh, finally standing up from your position, head bowed, ready to be reprimanded by the Captain.

“Couldn’t you have asked me first? You know that you can’t just leave until we know that…” Steve starts, but pauses before he says something he’ll regret, yet you hear him loud and clear. Anger boils in your system, and you cant help but meet his gaze with a cold stare.

“Look, I know that everyone’s afraid I’m gonna go out and kill somebody if I do something as much as touch a tree, but that’s not how it works. I’m basically half human half plant, I need to get some sunlight every once in a while,” You growl, angry that everything had to be blown out of proportion.

“Y/n..” Bucky starts but you interrupt him,

“I’m not done. You know how if you leave a houseplant out of the sun, that they start to wither? Same rules apply to me, except to my body. Hydra used to keep me out of sunlight, and only let me out whenever they needed me for a mission. They had me on the brink of death constantly, and when it got really bad, I’d break out of programming and kill a bunch of guards just so I could go outside, which in result lead to more torture. So unless you want to deal with Belladonna, I suggest you let me go outside when I need to.” You finish, and you only met with shocked stares from both super soldiers, Steve more so than Bucky.

“I’m sorry Y/n..I just..” Steve starts but you rest a feeble hand on his brows shoulder, looking at him with a reassuring gaze.

“It’s ok, I should’ve told you guys sooner. I was scared that I’d lose it if i went out outside, but after nearly losing it from not going outside, I might as well tell you guys the reason.” You say with a light laugh, trying to cover the anxiety boiling beneath your skin from just having to talk about details from your life from Hydra. You sigh before continuing, “I want to follow your guys’ rules, I really do, but I will lose my fucking mind if you make me stay in that building made entirely out of metal 24/7,”

“Okay, know that you explain it, I feel like a dick keeping you cooped up in there for nearly two weeks,” Steve laughs somberly, and you give him a slight smile. You turn to Bucky,

“That reminds me, when can I go to Wakanda? I don’t want to have this happen again. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore,” You practically beg him, reaching out to hold his hands. You feel bad for touching after a moment, forgetting you literally have dirt caked underneath your fingernails, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind with the small smile he gives you when you finally touch him willing for what felt like millennia. What you didn’t know was that Bucky secretly reveled in your touch, something about it made his nerves go haywire, and he’s not exactly sure where it comes from. All he knows that he doesn’t want to live in a world without it. After a moment, Bucky gives Steve a questioning glance, and Steve gives a small nod, a guilty look on his face. Bucky meets your desperate gaze, and gives you a smile that reveals his dimples, making you automatically smile in return.

“I’ll give Shuri a call,”

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #4 - Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Cursing, Implied PTSD, Mention of IED, Motorcycle Ride Without Helmets

Setting/Characters: Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sam’s therapy group, Lady at the Front Desk, Mentions of Peggy Carter and Riley

A/N: Here’s number 4! Like I said in the previous One Shot, I’m hoping to get TWS One Shots done today and tomorrow. Um, I don’t have a lot to say this time since I unloaded pretty much everything in the last One Shot. So, I guess that’s all!

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(PICTURE DOESN’T REPRESENT READER, JUST WHAT THE ART STEVE DREW LOOKS LIKE!)

“How is she?”

Steve nodded, taking the helmet he insisted on keeping for you in the compartment under his seat out and handing it over. What a hypocrite. “She’s fine. I guess. She…forgot. We were in the middle of a conversation and she…forgot I was alive.”

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alzheimer’s is a scary thing. I’m sorry. It must be hard seeing your best girl go through that.” He froze, his wide eyes scanning you. You ignored his gaze, giving him the helmet back. You really hoped it didn’t come out as sad and spiteful as you meant it. You didn’t want to despise her, you really didn’t. You couldn’t. You had too much respect for her. She did help build the organization you worked for. You just hated the position you found yourself in. “We’re just going to the VA. It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“No, honey. I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I won’t, Steve.” You pushed back. “I’ve done it before in a lot more dangerous places than the streets of DC. Plus, I trust you. You wouldn’t let me get hurt, would you?”

His lips turned up slightly, his head shaking just enough. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Hop on, then.” He jerked his head to his bike, putting the helmet away before sitting down with you following his lead. You pressed against him, an arm around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips lightly. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, setting your chin on his shoulder.

The bike roared to life underneath you before you took off. You were never worried when Steve drove. Sometimes he liked going fast when you two go for a drive through backroads of Virginia for a weekend, camping underneath the stars. But when you were in DC, he cruised, fast enough that you could get pulled over for doing ten over, but slow enough that you didn’t have to shout over the rush of the wind combing through your hair.

He usually talked to you while driving, but he was quiet this time. You turned your head to study him. His jaw ticked ever so often, his eyebrows furrowed and those pink lips turned down.

You didn’t want to distract him, but you couldn’t help but lift your free hand, tracing his jaw from his chin to his ear before pressing soft circles into the hinge of his jaw with your thumb. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No. No, you’re perfect, honey.” He reassured quickly, moving around a car, side eyeing you for just a second. “I’ve just…there’s a lot on my mind. A lot I need to figure out.”

You nodded. “If you ever need me. I’m here.”

He grinned, taking your hand in one of his to press a kiss to the knuckles, eyes not leaving the road. “I know.”

“Tell me more about this Sam Wilson guy.”

Steve chuckled before telling you about his run the day prior and how he lapped Wilson a few times and their conversation afterwards. He was just finishing up when he parked in the parking garage of the VA, “and then Natasha drove up saying she was looking for a fossil she was supposed to pick up.”

“A fossil.” You snorted. “I’m gonna have to use that.”

He gave you a playful glare as you swung your leg around and stood up. Catching your jaw between his fingers, he chuckled when he squished your cheeks together. “Call me a fossil, honey, and I’ll tell Fury the only way I’m doing missions is if you don’t.”

You gasped, shaking your head. “You ‘ouldn’!” You slurred out, trying to talk with your lips pursed.

He gave a little giggle, gently making your head move up and down in a nod. “Oh yes I would.” He pecked your nose, letting go of your cheeks. “C’mon, dame.” You blinked after him as he started towards the elevators with long strides.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder as you jogged to catch up, holding his hand out behind him. “C’mon. You know I’d never do that to ya.”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched his hand and huffed. “Well…yeah. But still.”

Another chuckle left his lips, pulling you closer to his side as you pressed the button for the elevator, leaving a kiss on your head. You fell into comfortable silence after that, Steve’s thumb tracing patterns on your hand while you waited for the elevator to ding.

When it finally did, Steve had a pen pulled out and, as you entered the elevator, he pulled your hand up closer to his face, lifting the writing utensil to the back of your palm.

You didn’t say anything, merely looking around the elevator after pushing the level you were going to. It was something you found that calmed Steve; drawing. So whenever he was bored or anxious, you let him draw on your hand. He used to ask, but he stopped after you told him you’d never say no.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, causing Steve to stop inking up your skin and drop your still linked hands down to your sides, shoving his pen in his pocket. You looked down at the partial flower and leaves wrapping around your wrist, smiling affectionately. He really was a good artist.

The lady at the front desk told you where to go when you asked for Sam Wilson, which Steve did rather eagerly, making you laugh. He had told you about Sam’s want to impress her when he came in. Apparently he was with a group, but she said it was okay for you to go in as long as you didn’t disrupt anything. Steve thanked her, before following her directions down the hall and around the corner.

You heard them before you saw them. A woman was talking, telling a story of how she got pulled over the previous week. Steve leaned against a column to the side of the room, out of the way, putting his hands in his pockets. You let his hand go to allow him to do so, linking your arm with his and holding his wrist with your free hand.

“I swerved…to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

You watched Steve’s reactions through the rest of the session. It wasn’t much longer - maybe ten minutes - before it ended. You had tried to convince him to go to one of these when he first got out of the ice, but he refused.

“I’ve already got you, honey. That’s all I need.”

And, yes, he did have you; your assignment was literally helping him with that stuff. But you still thought he’d benefit from it. Especially now since you had started going back on your own assignments. Maybe he’d start going to Wilson’s.

After the meeting, you and Steve walked up to the veteran who had just finished his farewells and started cleaning up the table at the front with brochures and things. “Look who it is. The running man. And who’s this pretty lady?”

You smiled, sticking out your hand, your name leaving your lips in an introduction. “Sam Wilson.” He shook your hand with a grin of his own. “Nice to meet you, cher.”

“You too, Sam.”

“We caught the last few minutes.” Steve stated, leaning on the wall again, keeping his arm linked with yours. “It’s pretty intense.”

You listened sadly as Sam told you two about his wingman, Riley, but you didn’t pity him. You knew what it was like to lose people and you hated the pity you received from others. You were glad to see he wasn’t beating himself up over it, even allowing himself to smile as the conversation shifted to his retirement. Steve was right; he did seem like a good guy. 

“Are you thinking about getting out?”

You glanced up at Steve as he answered “no.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes that flickered to you, before he met Sam’s again. “I don’t know.” Hearing Steve admit that he didn’t know what he wanted made your heartache. You wanted him to be happy, and the fact that he didn’t know what made him happy caused you to grip his arm tighter.

You, Sam, and Steve talked a bit longer, getting to know each other a little better. You even did the unthinkable and told him you worked for SHIELD when he asked how you two knew each other. Steve raised an amused eyebrow as your eyes widened, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t tell anyone.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

You finally said bye when Sam mentioned needing to get back to work. Walking back towards the elevators, Steve chuckled and nudged you. “You warmed up to him quickly.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your face landing in your hands. “Oh my God. I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

“I told you. He’s a good person. Easy to talk to.”

“Yeah…speaking of,” you tilted your head up to him as you stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. “Do you want to get out?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said. I just…I don’t really know…what to do.”

You pouted a little, tilting your head. “What would you’ve done in the 40’s? After the war?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled on his feet. “Be a lab rat.”

“Steven-”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “Please don’t.” He said softly, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one thumb smoothing out your forehead while the other ran over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m not. I, just…worry.”

He placed his lips to your forehead, hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer. “Well don’t.”

Your hands mimicked his previous position, holding his face, thumb brushing under his eyes. Your eyes caught sight of the barely started design on your hand, and your lips pursed thoughtfully. 

“What?”

“Drawing makes you happy.” He blinked at your words, confusion in those ocean eyes of his. “You said you don’t know what makes you happy. Drawing does. And you’re really good at it. You could be an artist or something. Like a tattoo artist. I’d go to you. I mean, look at this!” You showed him your hand. “It’s not even halfway done and you did it with a crappy dollar store pen”

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate that, honey, but I don’t think I could do that day in and day out.”

“Even with new customers coming in every day, asking for different designs in different places?”

Giving a chuckle, he leaned into your palm, kissing it. “You really want me to think about this don’t you?”

You scoffed. “Duh!”

He shook his head, ducking down to press his lips to your cheek, before laying his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m okay right now.”

“Are you?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, arms wrapping around you. “Because I have you. And you make me happy, honey.”

You hugged him back, face pressing into his neck. You were glad you made him happy. And as long as you made him happy, you’d keep this relationship the way it was. Even if that meant you’d never be his best girl. “You make me happy too, bubs.”

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

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​

[mssleepy876b]

Family Ties Chapter 8

Summary: Family can be a positive and negative force in one’s life. Detective Jay Halstead knows that personally and he helps a new Intelligence family member through it.

Requested? No. But promised @resanoona that I would post mine once she posted hers.

Word count: 1619

Warnings: domestic violence, PTSD possible

A/n: Unedited, Sorry for any mistakes

Family Ties Chapter 8

Later that evening, the debate began about how to handle Brie’s safety within the Intelligence Unit. “Sergeant, if I stop living my life, he wins. Yes, he scares the hell out of me, but I also can’t just collapse back to that girl that arrived on this precinct’s doorstep 18 months ago, Hank.” She argued with him calmly sitting in his office. Voight would never admit that he enjoyed his arguments with her because she always met him point for point with details and facts not emotions.

“Brielle, I understand that completely. And I know your family and friends are proud of the growth you have made since then. But as we know Michael has no thoughts to stop. He sees you as property and I can’t just let you be out there without backup from this team. I owe that much to you, your dad and mom, and your friends and family who have seen you grow this past year.” Voight said to her moving to place a hand on her shoulder as she sat on the couch in his office.

Brie ran her hands through her hair. She knew Voight was right, but she didn’t like it. “I hate that I have to be monitored and watched while that person gets to waltz around free.” She said quietly.

Hank moved to sit near her. “I know, Brielle. But I have to do what I can to keep you safe. Plus, did you think I would let anyone outside of this team take care of you?” he said placing his hand on her arm.

She sighed and spoke. “I trust you all, but I don’t want to be a liability to the team. You all work well as a unit. If that has to break because of me, I’d feel guilty, Hank.”

“Hey, we will get you through this.” He said moving to exit the office. “Burgess, you and Rojas stay with Brielle tonight and we will arrange new evening details etc. tomorrow.” He said.

The others moved to get organized as Jay moved to talk to Hank. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Will he even try tonight, Sarge?”

“Not sure, but I want you to start to organize a plan going forward. I gave my word to her father we would keep her safe. She’s family. She’s like my own daughter. DiLeone will not hurt her again.” Hank said moving back into his office.

Jay was up later that evening working on the security plans when his phone rang. It was Brie. “It’s Jay.” He answered not looking at the phone screen.

“Jay, are you free to talk? It’s Brielle.” she asked him. He could hear the concern in her voice as well as some uncertainty.

“Sure, Brielle. Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not really, just unsure of what to do.” She said.

“Explain what you mean Brie.” He said moving from the table to look out the windows of his apartment towards where he knew she lived.

“I feel like I am hindering the team, Jay. You all work so well together and trust each other but it is like I am taking from that for this protection detail. It makes me feel guilty.” She said softly. “I feel like I am taking the team apart and I am almost thinking about removing myself from the team so you can work at full capacity.”

“But where would you go, Brie? You know he is having you watched, and he will track you down. He will probably try to hurt you again. Are you ready for that?” he told her being honest and upfront with her.

“I don’t know, Jay. I just feel bad. All this chaos is created due to my past. I worry about effecting cases. You guys have more people in Chicago to help than just me.” She said as he heard her voice crack with emotion.

“Hey, as Voight would say Intelligence is a family and you are a part of that family so we will watch your back. Plus, we kind of like having you around you make our life easier with the paperwork.” He said to her joking hearing her slight laugh knowing it would bring a smile to her face. “Get a good night’s sleep before you make any choices, okay?” he said quietly to her.

“I will, Jay. I promise. Good night. Sleep well, Detective.” She said ending the phone call. He locked his own phone still looking out the window towards her apartment.

The next day, Jay entered Hank’s office with an idea for security, but it would possibly anger Michael. It would allow her to be with a member of the unit on her time off, but it would involve presenting a lie to the world around them. Jay was concerned over Michael’s reaction but knew that Brie would trust him and the team to take the right course to end this insanity. “Well, Halstead?” Voight asked.

“I have an idea, but it would involve a modified uncover portion.” Jay said. Hank motioned for him to sit and continue. “Michael knows this precinct is on the lookout for him so he can only act when she is not here. Keeping one of us near her at all times is only going to work in one way that I can see, Sergeant. I would pose as her boyfriend. I would want to see how Brie felt about it, but it would solve many of our concerns. She could stay in my spare room at my place or I could stay at her place. She could ride to and from work with me as well as go out in the evenings or over the weekends.” He said quickly.

Hank thought for a moment, “It puts a target on your back, Halstead.”

“I know but she trusts me, and do you honestly think I wouldn’t keep an eye on her anyway.” He said to Voight.

Hank nodded and stood going to the door. “Brielle, come in here, please.” He called across the bullpen. She looked surprised but quickly stood from her desk and walked from her desk into Hank’s Office. She moved and took a seat near Jay. He could smell her Vanilla scent as the air carried it from her body. She smiled at Jay but was curious as to the reason she was called in. “Brie, I asked Jay to design a security plan for you considering his experience that would allow us to protect you when you are not in the precinct. He did that but the best plan would involve a bit of acting for both of you, if you agree.” He said. Brie looked confused from Hank to Jay giving Hank the opening to continue. “We would organize things to appear in public that you and Jay are in a relationship together.” He said.

Brie looked surprised but blushed at the thought crossing her mind. Taking a moment to think, she turned to Jay and spoke. “Are you sure? I mean is this really the best way, Jay? Michael would hurt you just to spite me. He will go after the rest of the team too but anyone close to me will have a major target on their backs.” She said rambling as her voice seemed to waver with emotion.

Jay looked at her. “Brie, you know this team has your back and you trusted me from the moment we met. I have run every other option I can think of and this is the best way to protect you outside of here. You would stay in my guest room or I can sleep at your place. We would spend time together outside of the precinct if you weren’t with the others from the team and just be together. We are good friends already Brielle. And if Michael is the kind of guy that I think he is, he already knows that we are close.” He said honestly to her.

Brie sat in surprise and Jay watched as her eyes moved back and forth as she thought over their suggestion. “Who would know the truth?” she asked.

Hank answered, “The team would know but we would try to isolate it to that.” He said.

Hank and Jay watched as her eyes continued to move showing her thoughts racing in her mind. “And you are sure there are no other options that would work better?” she asked quietly.

Jay turned to her and moved her chin to look at him. “Nothing else would be a better option, Brie. I was up last night looking over all options and there just isn’t one. I know this would be a stretch for you, but I would be right there with you.” He said to her.

“How would this work?” she asked.

“We would need to start tonight but obviously our parts would be of a new relationship so nothing you are uncomfortable with. But we would just be together.” Jay said calmly feeling her hand reach out for his.

“Okay. I agree. But as soon as Michael is caught, or this whole drama ends, so does this act between us, Jay. I won’t force you into anything beyond this.” She said calmly. He could feel her hand shaking as she tried to control her emotions knowing a man, she had feelings for would be acting as her boyfriend, a man who appears to the world to love her despite what chaos has brought their way.

Hank spoke first. “Alright, we will start today. I’ll go brief the team. You two may need to talk.” He said leaving them alone closing his office door behind him.

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part III: Near & Far

Description: Promising beginnings and a premature end throw you into a tailspin Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: depictions of mild PTSD symptoms, mentions of death of a close family member, disappearances, “breakups,” angst, profanity Word Count: 1882 words (~9 mins of falling in love and wallowing in angst 😱😂) Author’s Notes: If you’re still following this story, please accept a giant (virtual) hug from me to you!  Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and this piece of work! 💖 Without further ado, I present to you part 3 of my slow-burn Shaw fic, written for the lovely @op-peccatori​ as part of my follower milestone celebration.

As always, dear reader, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

“You can relax, you know.  I won’t try anything funny while you sleep, not my style.  Besides, isn’t this much better than camping out on the floor?”

Nodding your head before you realize that Shaw probably couldn’t see you in the dark, your “Yes” comes out in a mewl so pathetic you wished you could immediately take it back.

His snicker shakes the bed, reverberating across squeaky springs to where you lay beside him, right at the edge of the twin mattress as you tried not to let your hands touch.

No matter how much you wished for them to.

Beyond the window, a neon signboard paints electric shadows on your walls in splashes of pink, flashing in time to a rhythm Shaw tapped out with one foot beneath the covers.

“Is it cool if…if we didn’t draw the blinds tonight?  I can’t sleep in complete darkness.” He had asked you earlier that evening, towelling off his hair as he emerged from your bathroom wearing a shirt your ex had left behind along with your broken heart a year and a half ago.

Snoopy looked much better riding his skateboard across Shaw’s broad chest anyways.

And there, in the midst of an awkward arrangement where sleep would surely prove fleeting, the sounds of the night: the low hum of the refrigerator, the pawn shop’s sign buzzing just on the other side of the windowpane…the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, steady like Shaw’s breath beside you as it counts down precious time—

“I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning.”  

Ba-bump.

“No, there’s…there’s no rush.  Honestly.”

“Can you really afford to miss more work because of me?”

Silence.  You couldn’t refute the truth.

“Tell you what, in exchange for putting up with me, you can ask me anything you want.  I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes; surely you must be curious about some things.  Might as well find out before I go.”

Your stomach knotted, clenching tight.  He was right.  For all you know, it was now or never.  “Why did you join?  The triad, that is.”

He is silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to piece together.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

Out of all possible answers, this wasn’t one you were expecting.  Turning onto your side, you study the handsome profile of his face — watching as pink mixed with lavender in the most ethereal way until you were overcome with the sense that in this vast ocean of life, you and him stood on very different shores.  Eyes still fixed on your ceiling, Shaw continues.

“He was an undercover cop, working to infiltrate the ranks of the group I’m currently a part of.  I only found out by accident, and he made me swear up and down not to breathe a word of it to mom.  Then one day…he was gone.  Just...disappeared off the face of the earth.  Mom and I went down to the station every day for months, knew the names and faces of everyone who worked in that building, but it was like Gavin never even existed.

“It was too much for her.  I came home late from school one day — found her on the floor, barely breathing.  It was dark in the apartment…so dark.  She had probably just drawn the curtains.  By the time the paramedics arrived, she was already gone.  Heart attack, they said.  

“I lie awake at night sometimes, wonder how I’m going to tell him that mom’s no longer here — go through the motions in my head, rehearsing every line.  ‘Cus I know that sooner or later, that day will come.  There’s no way he’s dead.  I know my brother.”

A glimmer at the corner of his eye catches yours.  Beneath the covers, your fingers inch towards his, finding courage in the darkness to brush against his pinky as if the sliver of warmth could express what words simply couldn’t convey.

“With mom gone, there was nothing to lose.  I joined the group, worked hard…did what they needed me to do to gain their trust, all while collecting scraps of info here and there — whatever I could get my hands on in the hopes that it’ll lead me to Gav.”

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Tiny drops of rain speckle your windowpane.  And when Shaw’s finger hooks around yours as if in a solemn pinky swear, the tears burning your eyes finally fall.  You don’t ask him how many years it’s been, the dirty deeds he’s had to sully his hands with.  You don’t question him about the father he doesn’t mention.  All you can do is watch as a solitary drop rolls down the side of his face before soaking into lavender strands fanned out on the pillow, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back bitterness only he knew.

In spite of it all, he is the one who chuckles when he turns towards you, eyes red rimmed even as his brows rise in feigned exasperation when he says, “Why are you crying?!  I’m the one with the tragic past here!”

And when you start to cry even harder, his soft hushes of “Shh, shh…I’m sorry, that last part was a joke.  It’s all right, everything will be okay, I promise,” burrows deep into your heart and you believe him.

Because when he reaches towards you — the thumb wiping the tears from your eyes calloused yet gentle — you are struck by a sense of overwhelming tenderness:

In the carefulness of his touch.

In the way he regards you with the sincerity of some unspoken emotion.

In the entirety of this man whom the rest of the world has already written off.

And that is when you know…

“I didn’t mean to make you cry by telling you all this, I’m sorry.”

…that you are in love with him.

“I’ll make it up to you.  Ask me another question.  Maybe something less depressing this time.”  

A smile spreads across his face.  You wished there was a way for you to keep the warmth of his hand on your cheek forever.  Sniffling, you try again.

“Wh-why did you keep coming in to my store everyday?  There’s a lot of other convenience stores in the area—”

A flash of panic in those amber eyes, and Shaw is turning over with lightning speed until all you can see is the smooth expanse of his back.

“Changed my mind.  A guy’s gotta keep some secrets!  Goodnight!”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Wrap your arms around the pillow.

“Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.”

Bury your face into its cushiony fill.

“Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

And inhale deeply.

Shaw’s scent on your sheets is faint now, so much so that you can’t be entirely sure you’re not imagining it, having gone through this ritual countless times since the day Shaw left your apartment…

…and stepped out of your life.

                   *                                         *                                          *

“Is there…any way I could stay in touch with you?  I-I just…just want to make sure you’re okay…”

Voice trailing off, you watch as Shaw gingerly shrugs one arm then another through the sleeves of his leather jacket, still wearing the Snoopy t-shirt he had slept in the night before after you told him he could keep it.  His own was torn beyond repair, stubbornly dyed in blood regardless of how much you scrubbed at it.  And when he hesitated still, you said he would just be doing you the favour of taking out the trash.  

Smoothing down the front of his jacket, Shaw glances at the phone in your hands — eyes tracing along your eager fingers, poised to type.  The expression on his face is unreadable, as if the man you had spent the night sharing secrets with was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

“It’s better if we don’t.  I’ll be fine, just laying low for the next while — boss’s orders.  And I don’t want the cops coming around to your place again.  Detective Whatshisname looks like he could be really good at hounding pretty girls like you.”

That smirk again, so familiar to you by now.  And in the compliment that would’ve made you blush bright red before, nothing but a smokescreen.

“Shaw, I don’t mind—”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?" The force in his voice cuts, and you barely breathe to feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting up your face until you have no choice but to meet his gaze.  Those eyes are dull, like molten gold frozen beneath a layer of impenetrable ice.  “Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.  Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

The shiver that runs electric down your spine makes the hairs on your skin stand on end.  It was like looking at a stranger.  Heart racing, your palms grow clammy with sweat, unsure of exactly when your phone had dropped from your hands, slipping away like…

“I don’t care about the cops!  I’ll deal with them—”

“DEAL WITH WHAT?!  You think that just because you managed to turn them away at the door that it makes you a hardened criminal?!  WE are not the same, okay?  My life is worthless.  I’ve already signed it away a long time ago, I’m ready to give it up without a second thought.  But you…you’re different. Y-you’re kind, innocent.  You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.  One day, you’ll make someone the luckiest person in the world, be a beautiful mother to beautiful children.  Don’t sell yourself short…not for someone like me.”

The silence that descends is thick, suffocating.  You don’t speak, afraid to open your mouth because it takes all your concentration just to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes.

Finally letting go of your chin, Shaw reaches behind his neck to undo the clasp on the thin gold chain he wore, the jade disc pendant that hung from it still warm from the heat of his skin when he places it in the palm of your hand.

“It’s not much, but it was a gift from my mom and the most valuable thing I own.  You saved my life, so it’s yours now.  Maybe…maybe one day, you can give it to your own child.”

Lump in your throat, you can barely breathe, let alone tell him there was no way you could accept something that precious, something that priceless.  That you didn’t drag him home that night, broken and bleeding, in the hopes of gain; not for money, not for love.

He curls your fingers around the heirloom, gentle thumb pressing on index, middle, ring then pinky in turn before your fist finds itself held tightly within the press of his much larger hand for one…two…three seconds…

…before those purple Chuck Taylors take him to your door…

Slam.

…and just like that, the man with the lavender hair is gone.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Forgive me for trolling, but there really was only one bed LOL!  Hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, and please stay tuned for what may be the final instalment in this Shaw saga! - XOXO

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

Thanks so much for reading! 💕 Check out more of my work here! 📚(Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are a-ok and much appreciated! 👍🏼💖)

[aslanjadecarlyle]

out of my mind (asheiji)

You may also find this oneshot on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33591019

Rating: G

Warning(s): Elements of PTSD, anxiety

-

In order to learn Japanese, Ash subjects himself to harassment from a stalker green owl.

-

They arrived in Japan a week ago, and Eiji was only now going grocery shopping. He was a terrible host.

He’d been hesitant about leaving Ash alone, but Ash insisted. It was in the middle of the day, not nighttime when he was prone to frightening dreams. And, he’d been given the numbers of Eiji’s parents. They didn’t know English as well as their son, but they knew enough to check in on Ash if he needed them.

That was, if he texted them in the first place. If Ash knew Eiji had put them on “babysitting duty,” as Ash called it, he’d become very upset. Since arriving in Japan, he was insistent that he was all right, but still, Eiji worried. It may be undiagnosed, but it was quite clear that Ash had PTSD. Eiji was still working to convince him on getting a proper diagnosis and resulting treatment.

It wasn’t easy. Eiji had to remind himself to take akachan no suteppu with Ash. Baby steps.

But, the fact that they were in Japan together was already a miracle in and of itself.

And, Eiji was pretty proud of himself. He’d hurried a bit while shopping, but, as a result, had been gone only about an hour. It is just past two p.m. when he slides his key into the lock and opens the door.

“Honey, I home!” he sings out.

Silence.

Eiji frowns. Nerves erupt in his stomach, but he shakes his head. He can’t worry yet. Ash probably has headphones in. He’s probably listening to music or reading a book or watching a show or—

Deep breaths.

Their front door opens into a tiny entryway, which spills into the kitchen. Eiji stops to set the groceries on the counter before following the flow of the kitchen into the living room.

Relief floods his chest and he’s able to breathe easily again as he locates Ash. He’s lying upside down on the couch, head to the floor and feet, clad in his favorite red Converse, kicked up on the couch’s back. His blond hair spills onto the floor and he’s glaring at his phone, held close to his face. He’s wearing his glasses.

“Ash-u!” Eiji scolds, laughter in his voice now that he’s relaxed, “No shoes on furniture!”

Ash startles, phone falling in his face before he tumbles, falling to the side and off the couch entirely. Landing on the floor, he’s not looking directly at Eiji, but, rather, glares in Eiji’s general direction.

“Ow,” he complains.

Eiji’s delighted laughter fills the room before he can think to cover his mouth with his hand and attempt to stifle his giggles. Ash continues to glare at him as he lies on the floor, not bothering to get up.

“You’re so mean,” he huffs.

Eiji smiles as his hand falls away from his mouth. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” He glances at Ash’s phone, which lies on the floor. The screen has gone black.

Ash takes a moment to readjust, getting up from the floor and sitting on the couch normally. As he grabs his phone and turns it on again, he declares, “I’m being stalked.”

Eiji pauses. His smile fades as uncertainty fills him. “What?”

“Yeah. By a murderous green owl.”

It takes a moment to click.

“Oh!” Eiji’s smile returns. “That app you download.”

Upon their arrival in Japan, Ash had decided that he was going to teach himself Japanese. He’d downloaded a language-learning app a few days ago. That way, he could learn even when Eiji was too busy to teach him himself.

And, with an IQ of over 200, he was quite the quick learner.

“Yeah,” Ash huffs again, “I’m only on a four day streak, but this owl is already clingier than Max and Jessica.”

Eiji smiles. “Make much progress?”

“I’m almost done with Hiragana. Then it’s onto Katakana.”

Eiji’s eyes widen slightly. Rather than point out the fact that the app is lacking Japan’s third writing system, he asks, “Almost done? You only finish one or two lessons yesterday. Couple others day before that.”

“Yeah,” Ash mumbles. Glancing at his phone again, he’s quite obvious about the fact that he will no longer look at Eiji, “Almost done.”

The first day Ash downloaded the app, he’d focused on nothing but his lessons in the midst of a terrible anxiety attack. Eiji hadn’t been able to break him out of it for hours.

“Ash-u…”

The boy clenches his jaw, still avoiding Eiji’s worried gaze.

Dark eyes filling with concern, Eiji comes closer and sits by Ash on the couch. Ash stiffens, but doesn’t scoot away, and he continues to stare down, unblinking, at his phone.

Eiji’s movements are slow and careful as he covers the phone’s screen with his hand. Ash’s head snaps up, but he doesn’t say anything.

“It happen when I leave?”

Ash stares at him. He doesn’t move.

“I sorry. I should not have left you alone. It was baka. Orokashī.”

Ash side-eyes him. “What?”

His voice tremors and Eiji’s heart clenches in his chest.

“Foolish. Stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Eiji.”

“No,” Eiji agrees, “but I did stupid thing.”

Ash stares down into his lap. His phone is still in his palm, but now the screen is off and Eiji is still covering it with his hand.

“May I take phone?” Eiji asks gently.

Ash hesitates, fingers instinctively curling around the phone like a lifeline.

But, he forces himself to breathe, and, slowly, his grip loosens. His hand trembles a little as he drops it to his knee, but he nods.

Eiji smiles. He gets up for a moment, sets Ash’s phone out of sight atop a bookshelf. When he comes back, he sits beside Ash again and takes Ash’s hands in his.

“Okay?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Ash nods.

Smiling, Eiji rubs the pad of his thumb over Ash’s palm. He knows that Ash hates his hands, hates what they’ve done, but right now they are warm. Soft despite slight calluses. He squeezes them gently, looking up at Ash as he does so.

Ash’s eyes are filling with tears.

“Hey,” Eiji speaks, voice quiet, “It okay. You okay. Wherever your mind take you, you here with me. You safe.”

“Can I lay down?” Ash whispers.

“Of course.”

Eiji had thought that Ash meant to get up and go lay down in his bedroom. But, instead, Ash lowers himself there on the couch, curling his long legs onto the sofa and lying with his head in Eiji’s lap. His hand rests lightly on Eiji’s thigh and he closes his eyes.

“Sleepy?” Eiji asks.

“A little,” Ash mumbles. He doesn’t sleep very well at night.

Eiji pauses for a moment, considering. Careful not to move too quickly, he runs his fingers through Ash’s blond hair.

“This okay?” he asks, voice hardly above a whisper.

A long sigh escapes Ash’s parted lips. “Yes. Perfect, Eiji.”

“If you fall sleep,” Eiji says, “try not to dream of stalker green owl.”

Despite the exhaustion that has started to settle in his bones, Ash’s eyes open as he snickers. “No promises. He’ll be sending me notifications within the hour.”

“You can delete app?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Spite.”

Eiji pauses for a moment. Then, he throws his head back and laughs.

His laugh, Ash thinks, is absolutely beautiful.

As Eiji settles, his fingers resume running through Ash’s hair. The anxiety still lingers in the pit of Ash’s stomach, but he’s able to focus more on Eiji’s touch, his fingers. After a few minutes, the heaviness in his eyelids wins out and his eyes flutter closed.

“Good night, Eiji,” Ash mumbles.

He can hear the smile in Eiji’s voice as he responds, “Oyasumi.”

[scatterpatter]

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

:)

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

:)

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

:)

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 4 - 18

Honor Bound 4 - 18 (Undeserved Reputation) @badthingshappenbingo​​​​

Requested by @whumps-the-word​​​​

~

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Cw: past captivity, implied whump of a minor, PTSD, dissoci@tion, death mention

~

Gray smiled gently as they drove, avoiding potholes in the road caused not by violence, but by the simple, innocent freeze and thaw of the ground. The sun was already high in the sky after more than three hours of driving. The sky was clear, the air clean and cool with the northern summer that was already well under way.

Edrissa sat in the passenger seat, almost completely turned around, chattering happily to Vera in the back seat. Every now and then, Gray and Vera met eyes in the rear view, and Gray could read something like gratitude in her gaze.

“…and there’s this store in Crayton that sells three different kinds of lace!” Edrissa said, the wispy blonde bun at the top of her head bobbing along as she spoke. “And there’s a lot of cotton, I mean, obvious, but they also sometimes have some nice linen and I think that’s what I’ll make Sam’s sling out of, so it breathes. Because it gets hotter up here than I thought it would, because I thought it wouldn’t get very hot at all and it’s already May and it’s been pretty warm, and the winter was so cold so I just kind of assumed it would stay cold. I mean, it’s been nice outside. Maybe when it gets a little warmer we can go hang out at the lake, maybe do a picnic, I mean it’s not very far from the house but it’s really pretty and I’ve already been in it and it doesn’t go that deep, but it is really cold. Before that I hadn’t been swimming in so long. But yeah, I think I’ll do the sling out of linen, and I hope they have blue because that’s Sam’s favorite color.”

She paused to take a breath. Vera grinned at her.

“It is Sam’s favorite color,” Vera said, and Gray was tempted to give Vera a conspiratory nudge. “What else have you been up to while we’ve b-been—” Her voice wavered for just a moment. “—gone?”

“Um…” Edrissa’s mouth twisted and she leaned towards Vera. “Yeah, um, a lot. Gray said, Gray said I could paint my room if I wanted, but I haven’t found the right color. They’re all so… so garish.” Edrissa flipped the stray wisps of hair out of her face and looked to Vera, eyebrows raised, as if she was waiting for something.

It was so good to see Edrissa looking for Vera to assure her not that she was safe, but that she was… cool.

“Absolutely,” Vera said with fervor. “Sometimes walls just need to look sophisticated.” Edrissa lifted her chin, and her mouth pulled into a wider smile at the word.

“Exactly,” she said with an emphatic nod. “Sophisticated. I was thinking I could do a whole thing with a mirror on the wall and, and maybe a nice painting if I can find one that captures the… the…” Edrissa stumbled for a moment, her eyes still fixed on Vera. “…the atmosphere I want.”

Sadness dragged at Gray’s heart. She hasn’t been allowed to make her own choices, any choices for two years. And I remember how much I just wanted to be me when I was eighteen.

They pressed their lips into a line to stop the corners of their mouth from falling.

“That sounds like such a great idea,” Vera said, her face breaking into a smile again. “And… Tori and I wanted to start a garden out back. It’s a little late for planting, but… if we get seedlings, would you want something?”

“Yes!” Edrissa cried, and distractedly tapped Gray on the shoulder. For a moment Vera looked at Gray in delighted surprise. Edrissa hadn’t let anyone but Tori and Vera touch her since she’d been rescued almost five months ago. Gray knew the easy touch on their shoulder spoke volumes of the healing she’d done just in the past three weeks.

I wonder how much of that is time away from Gavin. Gray pushed the thought out of their head.  

“Oh, my god, I totally forgot. Last time I was in Burmingham, they had little mint plants. Gray said they wanted some, and I forgot!” She turned to Gray with an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, I—” Edrissa shivered. Her eyes went distant. She curled into herself slightly, shrinking back against the door of the car.

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said gently, never taking their eyes off the road. “I’m not hurt. I’m not angry. It’s just a mistake, right? Mistakes are alright.”

“Mm-hm,” Edrissa said uncertainly. She relaxed slightly.

“Remember your counting?” Gray said, low and calm.

Edrissa jerked her head in a nod. She took in a deep breath. “One two three four five,” she muttered, and shook out her hands at the wrists with each number.

“Good. Let’s do it again, together.” Gray’s hands were steady on the wheel, never faltering. Watching the pavement of the road disappear under their car.

Edrissa drew in another deep breath. “One two three four five,” she and Gray said together as she shook out her hands, her quavering voice mixing with Gray’s steady one.

“One more time. Deep breath, one two three four five.” This time, Edrissa, Vera, and Gray said it together.

Gray glanced at Edrissa, at how her shoulders hunched just a little more than they had before, at the dullness in her eyes that reminded them so much of… of Vera, when she was under. Their mouth made a hard line.

“S-sorry,” Edrissa murmured. “I j-just…”

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said evenly, passing the first few houses on the north outskirts of Crayton. “Everyone has moments, and you were just having a moment.”

“Having a moment,” Edrissa said softly. “Just having a moment.” She smiled tightly at Vera, the corners of her mouth twisting in embarrassment.

Gray’s heart ached for Edrissa, for the girl who had just been going on and on about her room and her fabrics not thirty seconds ago and was now trembling, embarrassed, frightened. Vera leaned forward and put her hand palm up on the center console. An invitation, not a demand. Edrissa fit her hand into Vera’s, and Vera squeezed.

“Tell me more about what plants you want.”

Edrissa offered a wider smile. “Um, I like osteospermum,” she said, her eyes shifting down. “And sunflowers. I like the tall kinds of flowers.” She looked up at Vera. “I had to get a book on plants that do okay with the, the climate up here, because down south it was always—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard. “I like the colorful tall kinds of plants. I’d try for a rosebush but I think it’s too hard for this year.”

“Hm.” Vera nodded. “Well, I’d like to try some raspberry and strawberry bushes. And we could build a shade for the garden, in case the sun is too much.”

“Y-yeah,” Edrissa said softly. She sat back slightly in her seat until Gray pulled onto the main street of shops. They eased the car into a spot along the sidewalk. When Gray stopped, Edrissa shook herself slightly and looked up.

Gray put the car in park. “I was thinking you two could get out here,” they said, indicating with their hand the store that had regular deliveries of fabrics. “I should go to the town hall and check in with Daniel Schiester. I understand your check-in was… rushed.”

“And good fucking thing, too,” Vera said quietly, her jaw clenching shut.

Gray dipped their head. “I don’t exactly appreciate the way he’s spoken to you in the past, so I thought I would make this visit alone. Make sure he feels in control of the situation. Stroke his comically over-inflated ego.”

“I swear to god, he’d make a great fucking syndicate leader,” Vera said, rolling her eyes. She opened the door and climbed out, moving stiffly. Edrissa got out, too, and drifted to Vera’s side.

Gray rolled the passenger window down and leaned towards it. “Shouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes. If you move on from here and I don’t catch you, I’ll meet you in the square in an hour, and we can get lunch. Sound like a plan?”

Vera nodded and cocked her eyebrow. “Have fun with DFS,” she said, snidely.

Gray’s brow furrowed. “DFS?”

Vera bent forward and leaned into the car. “Daniel. Fucking. Schiester,” she said, her voice nearly gleeful with contempt.

Gray snorted and leaned back. “Ah. I’ll have to try not to call him that to his face.”

Vera straightened and shrugged. “If you do, get pictures of his reaction.”

Gray laughed and put the car in drive. “See you soon,” they said, and pulled away.

∴

As Gray got closer to the town hall, their hands tightened on the wheel. Something itched in the back of their mind, something about how Daniel looked at Vera with fascination, with humor. As if he was watching a dog performing tricks. Saccharine. Amused.

Something in the back of their mind stirred at how Daniel looked at Gavin.

There was something there, between them. Gray doubted they had ever actually met. Perhaps it was just morbid, spiteful fascination on Daniel’s part, fascination with the syndicates who ruined the lives of the victims he saw every day. Perhaps it was buried rage, resentment that people like Gavin’s family were the reason Crayton had to exist at all.

Perhaps it was something else, though Gray wasn’t sure what.

Gray pulled in front of the town hall and parked the car. They sat quiet in the seat, staring at the front door, already feeling the tension headache starting. They breathed a sigh, turned off the car, and got out.

Inside the atrium it was cool, dark, and empty, just like it almost always was when refugees weren’t being processed. Gray’s hands tightened into fists and they began to climb the stairs to Daniel’s office.

The stairs creaked under Gray’s feet, their footsteps muffled by the dark green carpet. They made their way to the landing and turned in the direction of Daniel’s office. They almost hoped he wasn’t in today. Their hands clenched tighter as they walked down the hallway, almost feeling the urge to tiptoe, to not make any noise.

Gray grimaced. I’m being ridiculous.

They stopped in front of the door to Daniel’s office. They knocked.

“Come in,” came the deep, even voice. Gray’s face fell. They turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Daniel glanced up from his work on his computer, then looked up and pushed himself away from his desk. “Mx. Uriah,” he said, standing, and held out his hand. “Always good to see you.”

Gray’s skin felt cold as they shook Daniel’s hand once.

“Mr. Mayor,” they said stiffly.

“Ah,” Daniel said with a smile. “I suppose if I wanted you to call me by my first name, I should have begun with that courtesy. Forgive me.”

“Old habits, on my end,” Gray said, and forced their mouth into a smile.

“Right.” Daniel sat back into his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. “What can I help you with?”

Gray had to stop themself from staring at the pictures of refugees on the walls. Those pictures definitely weren’t of every single refugee Daniel had saved, they couldn’t be. There couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty people in those pictures, and Gray knew Crayton could see that many in a busy week. Maybe those refugees held some meaning for Daniel. Gray didn’t want to pry.

If they were perfectly honest with themself, they didn’t want to ask.

“I’m sure at this point that you are aware that my family has returned from the south?” Gray said, meeting Daniel’s eyes.

Daniel grinned. “Ah. Yes. The triumphant heroes return, quite successful, I’m given to understand. Colleen Stormbeck is dead, and the region is destabilized.”

“That’s right,” Gray said. “They were successful, although at great cost to themselves.”

Daniel’s mouth turned down. “You don’t mean that any of them died…?” He turned to rifle through some papers on his desk. “When my people checked them in, all six were—”

“They all came back alive, yes,” Gray said, their heart twinging. Their gaze fell. “But they all came back with some sort of… permanent… mental or physical scarring.”

“Hm.” Daniel leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “When you say they all came back alive, I’m assuming you’re not including the Stormbeck boy in your count.”

Gray blew out a slow breath. “When he left here, his name was Gavin Uriah.” They raised their gaze to meet Daniel’s, his eyes a cold blue that always seemed to pierce through Gray. “But yes. He is dead.”

Daniel huffed out a silent laugh. “Generous of you to allow him to take your name, considering everything he’s d—”

“I don’t wish to discuss the rehabilitation of Gavin Uriah,” Gray said softly, their cheeks reddening. “I am fully aware of your opinion of him, and of redemption in general. The fact is when he left here, I had become rather fond of him. And I’d like to let his memory remain for me what he was: a broken boy who died trying to set things right.” Gray’s stomach churned.

Daniel was silent for a moment, regarding Gray coolly across his desk. After a long moment he nodded and said, “Just more evidence for the syndicates’ cruelty, then. I’m sorry your family was the target.”

“So am I,” Gray murmured. They glanced around the office and returned their gaze to Daniel. “But they had to check in with your people in the dead of night and move on without proper processing, as one of them was gravely injured. I wanted to make sure nothing was missed, and answer any questions you had.”

“No, nothing was missed,” Daniel said with a winning smile, waving his hand. “I know that your team arrived in no condition to follow protocol, and the people who checked them in are very thorough.”

“Good,” Gray murmured. The hair on the back of their neck tingled. “Did you need anything from me?”

“Actually, I could use your assistance,” Daniel said with a smile. “Due to the instability of the western region, we are already seeing an increase in the frequency and number of refugees, and am very certain that will only continue to increase. Summer is always a busy season for us, but I am anticipating unprecedented numbers. At the moment, I currently don’t have the people to handle this efficiently. Your family is particularly suited to assisting with refugees, given the nature of your work. I was hoping to recruit you in the processing, if you’re able.”

Gray nodded. “Of course. I can’t speak for the others as they are all convalescing, but I would be happy to help. I will pass on the request. I have no doubt they will offer what they can, as soon as they are able to travel. A few of them may be ready now.”

“Whatever you can do will be appreciated,” Daniel said, and stood, offering Gray his hand. Gray took it. “Always a pleasure, Gray. When you and your family are ready we will orient you with our process.”

Gray nodded. “I’ll keep you posted. Until then, stay well, Daniel.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled and sat down. He turned back to his work.

Gray turned and left the office, closing the door behind them. They walked down the hall, their steps quickening, their shoulders tightening. They made their way down the stairs and across the atrium. By the time they pushed through the doors out into the sun, they were nearly jogging.

Continued here

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[myimaginesandrp]

Hey so can you please please please continue the force sensitive! reader x Kyle ren fic it’s amazing and I read al of it and now I need more. Also can you put me on the tag list for it please 😁

Force Sensitive! Reader Part 5 

Part one: While Kylo is interrogating you (a resistance member) he discovers you’re force sensitive

Summary: You've Made your way back to the resistance, but it feels nothing like home.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, signs of  Ptsd 

A/N: Thanks for reading this!  I didn’t think we’d be here, but what can I say? I was inspired. I’m planning on making one more part for this. Sorry there’s only mentions of Kylo, this chapter was super important for what’s to happen next. I promise he’ll be back next chapter… and things are gonna get spicy. 

As always, thanks to anyone who takes the time to read my garbage ^.^

——

The steady sound of heavy rain droplets pounded against your window as you tossed around on your new mattress. It was so strange to be back in your resistance camp quarters. The room was too big and stuffy when you were here by yourself. The darkness was the only other thing filling it up, the only thing keeping you company aside from the nightmares that kept you awake every night. In fact that’s the reason you were lying awake now, looking up at your ceiling and the remaining glow in the dark stickers you kept up there. 

You could still hear it. The loud hum of his saber, hot and deadly and so close to you. The blinding red illuminating his gloved hand as he reached out to you. You thought they were just dreams at first, but after a while you started to hear those voices. They wouldn’t leave you alone either and it was beginning to drive you insane. Your hands clutched at your ears begging them to leave you alone when a knock at the door seemed to pull you from your delusions. Hesitantly you managed to convince your body to move. Your footsteps were muffled by the rain as you made your way through the small ship, bumping slightly into things you forgot were there. Your knuckles were white from the force you pressed onto your other hand, hoping that if you squeezed hard enough they would stop shaking.

 It didn’t work.

It took you a moment  but somehow you managed to press down on the control panel enough to get the door to open and found the General standing in front of you. She offered you a smile as you took her in. She was so small and bone dry in spite of the rain outside. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked in a kind quiet voice. You nodded for her to enter and watched her as the door hissed closed behind you both. You sat down on one of the chairs across from the couch she found. A deep sigh escaped her and you followed her gaze to your shaking hands. It was too late to hide them, but still you plastered them under your thighs, the bandages on your wrists pressing against you uncomfortably. You’d been too stubborn to go see the medical droids again. She studied you for a moment and a wave of heat flashed over your cheeks. Suddenly you had the urge to run far far away from this place. 

“Y/N” she repeated. You assumed by the look on her face she’d spoken and you didn’t catch it. 

“General” you whispered. “ I- I’ve already told you everything I know about The First Order” 

“Yes, but that’s not why I am here” Her voice was so calm and soothing, so different from her son. The one she abandoned. You shook the thought away from you, lately those kinds of things were all you thought about and it seemed to cloud your senses.

How strange the world seemed ever since you were back; nothing seemed to fit the way it used to. You were back from the dead and  you swore people would’ve prefered it to be that way. It wasn’t like that at first, everyone was welcoming and kind and you felt like you were finally home, but everything changed when the news of your time on the finalizer broke out. The people were different, so you didn’t bother to talk to any of them now, that only resulted in cold or worrisome glances. You couldn't deny that it stung to be isolated this way but still, you couldn't blame them. You weren’t the same person anymore, you weren’t a traitor, but nothing would be the same and you knew it. This guy had done real work on you and you were just emotionally drained.  Of course the general could sense it, you knew that’s why she was here. 

“I saw inside his mind you know?” you took a deep breath “He let me”. Her eyebrows shot up. Clearly this wasn’t the way she was expecting the conversation to go, but she had to know. She had to, because you hadn’t been entirely honest with her and you weren’t planning to, but something in the way she was looking at you now made you want to pour out all your fear in front of her. 

“I know he’s your son. You and Han” you whispered.

“Yes he’s my son, but things are a little more complicated than they seem” she sighed. “There’s still good in him.” You breathed out a laugh not really sure if it was in disagreement. She knew, of course she knew, about all the horrible things that he was doing across the galaxy. 

“I see him when I close my eyes, I feel what he felt. How alone he is” Your voice shifted without you realizing it. Before you knew you were looking at her as if the whole thing was her fault. Maybe it was. 

You thought by now things would have been different, that by now the war would be almost over. The scavenger went out to find Luke, another dead end. All the suffering you went through for that fragment, all the people lost. Not just on your side. All the innocent people caught in the crossfire. And it was all for nothing. 

Maybe Ren was right. It was driving you insane the more you thought about it. Without you meaning to, honest.  It just didn’t make sense for all that to happen. If only you were stronger. 

The thoughts ran through your head so quickly, you didn’t notice she’d placed a hand on your knee. Your lip twitched at the touch.

“Be careful Y/N anger is a straight path to the dark side.” 

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” you shot back a bit more bitterly than you intended, but you couldn't stop yourself. “I’m just here waddling through a swamp blindfolded. You didn’t tell me.” You stood up then unsure of what to do with yourself anymore, your lip was quivering and you bit it down as tears pooled in your eyes,

“You knew about me, you knew what I can do, what I am capable of. And you just sidelined me” you hands reached up and tangled in your hair as a steady stream of warm tears finally made their way down the sides of your cheeks. The general was so calm, like she’d seen this a million times.

“I could’ve saved so many people, the war could be so much different..” You trailed off and she took that opportunity to speak.

“Y/N” she said calmly “you weren’t ready to learn about the force”

You scoffed. 

“You must understand. It’s what’s best for everyone counting on us.” She looked at you dead in the eye and you didn’t know whether to run and hug her or cower away. 

“Don’t let the bad guys take over you.”

“The bad guys?” you breathed out a laugh “From where I’m standing we’re just as messed up as those guys eh. Do you have any idea how many people live in those ships we’re told to take down? And we just blow them out of space for what? The good of the galaxy?” You shook your head not wanting to hear any more. She sighed and stood from her seat. 

“What good are we doing exactly?” you said crossing your arms as she made her way towards the door. 

“More than you imagine” she said stepping out into the rain. “You have a gift Y/N. I don’t know why the force chose you, but I know you will make the right choice” 

The night passed by without you noticing, the rain making it impossible to to tell what time it was. The voices seemed to stop once General Organa stopped by and you couldn't be more relieved. Still, even when the scavenger returned with Han and a new map to Luke, the feeling of dread couldn’t leave your side. 

---

You didn’t know how long it had been since you stepped out into the sun, but one day you decided you couldn't stay trapped inside anymore. You’d done nothing wrong after all. You were on your way to see your old ship when you heard a familiar voice call behind you. 

“Hey scraps”  

For the first time in a long long time your face broke into a smile. Poe. He’d been off world on a mission once you got back and wow was it good to see him. He was making his way out of an X wing with his droid trailing behind him. 

“Hey” you said with a smile when he finally reached you and wrapped his arms around you. 

His heart sank  once he pulled away and got a good look at you. It didn’t take a genius to see how different you were. Dark circles adorned your eyes, your skin was transparent, and even the way your clothes hung down from your shoulders had him worried. You could see it in his eyes, how you could possibly be worse than when he found you?

“How are you?” his voice was so warm and soothing you almost lost it. You shifted your eyes to the droid, unable to meet his gaze.

“Me? Oh you know, same ole, same ole...” There was something in his voice... something was off “ Why, have you heard anything else?” you looked up to see him shift to his other side uncomfortably.  “Tell me Poe”

“People are starting to talk”

“Oh” you said arching your brow

“They say Ren brainwashed you, that you’re loyal to the order now” You liked that he always got to the point right way, one of the many things you like about him.

“That’s a new one” you scoffed 

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed until they followed your  gaze to the ships behind you. You didn’t plan to leave, but thinking about it now, maybe you could go for a round.

“Scraps..If you leave they’ll think it’s true.You’ll be considered a traitor” he said before dismissing the droid.  Your breath hitched in your throat. This is what he was fearing? Could he honestly think you would just abandon everything like that? What was worse, it was like reputation was the only thing that mattered to him. 

“I don’t care what side people think I’m on” 

“Y/N come on, you’re on the good side”

“I am” you give him a pointed look “I just don’t think the resistance is the good side anymore.” He stared at you dumbfounded, “You know, they believe they’re 100% justified too”

“You can’t be serious? Scraps..?” he shook his head, pacing back and forth unsure of what to say. You looked over at the ships, one of them waiting for you.

“Please don’t go…” his eyes were begging “I just got you back” His eyes were soft and pleading. You weren’t gonna leave him, how could  he even think that? You were just about to tell him when he spoke again, beating you to it. 

“Y/N” His hand lifted your chin to meet him “What did he do to you?” 

You yanked your head away from him. He’d already made up his mind then? You could handle pity from anyone else, but not him, he was your best friend he was…  

Anger began pooling inside you, of all people he should be the first one to take your side. 

“He showed me what the general already knew” you looked up to him then, scanning his eyes when you sensed his guilt. “Did you know?” His silence rang volumes inside you. “Poe did you know?!” 

His eyes looked down at the ground and for the first time in years you felt absolute betrayal.

“You knew” your voice broke at the last word, unable to contain your shock. He looked up at you then, his eyes pleading. 

“Leia told me you were…”

 “Forget it Dameron” you spat before turning on your heels. You couldn’t bear to hear him, your heart couldn’t take it.

That was it, you couldn't trust anyone anymore. Your whole time here had been a lie, and now the person you trusted the most had lied to you. Nothing made sense anymore.

 The world spun as you made your way through the ships, looking for your own. There was a muffled sound of a voice somewhere behind you but you couldn’t listen. Once after another the dreaded voices seemed to return to you. You looked around, bumping into things and tripping over others while you yanked yourself away from the hand that kept reaching for you. You didn’t know how long it took, but you somehow found your ship. 

The small purple X wing stood there with a grey dusty sheet covering half of it. You were running towards it while your mind played cursed images of the times you spent on it. You had to stop it, you had to before you saw Poe, all the times you shared together in that X wing. Tears streamed down your cheeks again, you didn’t even know when you’d started crying. Your whole body was on fire. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You could run away, start a nice little life away from it all. You’d find Skywalker or maybe not and then just stay there maybe if you were far enough away, you’d stop hearing the voices in your head.

You slid to stop but ended up crashing into him when he threw his body between you and the ship. His arms pinned you down underneath him as his hot breaths hit your neck. 

“Let me go!” You were panting, pulling you away from his, but his strong grip kept you in place. 

“Where are you going?” he managed once he caught his breath. 

“I'm getting Far far away from this mess” you growled 

“You can’t leave. This is exactly what he wants scraps” 

“How do you know that Poe? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’ve been lying to me for years?!” You were fuming. 

“Y/N please listen” his grip loosened on you just a bit and you managed to yank him away from you using the force. “I didn’t know”

“Liar!” You shot back and pushed him farther away from you 

“Scraps, please…”

“Did you ever even love me?” You interrupted him, choking back tears. He stared at you in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak but you weren’t about to listen to him lie to you again. 

You climbed up into the ship and it roared into life. You felt it then, his pain was almost blinding, it almost matched your own. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the general running towards you but it was too late. You pulled out of the dreaded planet watching everything you held near and dear to your heart disappear behind you. 

For once the ship listened to you, and it spun into space soaring past the familiar X wing that trailed behind yours. He was getting closer, so close you were nealy side by side just as you were about to make your jump into lightspeed.  For a brief moment you met his eyes, they were as red as yours and a shinny trail of tears was shimmering down his cheeks. 

That’s the last time you saw him before disappearing into space. 

-Tags:

@nicci442 @country-cowgirl-101 @commondazy @acehyacinth

Part 6

——

Thanks for reading! :) Requests are always open

[monkey-network]

My Issues with Butch Hartman

Call this the sequel to my post on Mr. Enter. But honestly compared to Enter, Butch Hartman has made himself look far worse in so little time. Not only with how he uses his influence, but he basically showed his true colors not long after he left Nickelodeon. With Enter, the worst you can say about him is his opinions on media and his politics. With Hartman, there is a surprisingly lot more under his belt that made the hate towards him .

To preface this, while I’m gonna shit on this dude, I’m not shaming anyone who still likes his past content. With that said, bibbity Boppity boopity. Let’s look at the fucking scoopity.

The Telltale Oaxis

This really takes the cake as the scummiest thing Butch has done. Words and opinions can be one thing, but using your platform to basically trick some people out of their money for a project you abandoned for the most part grinds me gears a lot more. As bad as his marketing strategy was, at least Enter provided effort in his indiegogo project beforehand for god’s sake. Oaxis is one of the most pitiable crowdfunded projects I’ve seen.

It’s nearly two years since Butch got Oaxis funded and what have gotten beyond pure dead silence. Nearly two years and little to no significant updates for Oaxis’s Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, his Youtube, or the site’s official account. No wait, that last part’s kind of a lie. They had monthly updates on the official site up until September 2019. Could’ve posted this on their social medias but you take what you can get. 

The major takeaway from the updates, in all fairness, was that the kickstarter wasn’t enough and they still need to raise more funds for the service. The “capital-building” stage he calls it where he’s looking for more investors in addition to getting actual programs onto the service. That and Oaxis is a big vision for Butch and his wife in spite of not only giving up the monthly updates and basically secluding any mention of Oaxis from any place else. That’s basically it and I legit feel sorry for everyone that couldn’t get their refund back.

This isn’t HBO Max or Disney+ where you just expect them to have something together after their initial announcement because they’re already media conglomerates, this is an independent project. One that people, your fans included Butch, put over 200K thinking you would at least give people something. But beyond a “sizzle reel” that said nothing aside from Oaxis going to be a thing, you have presented jack after two years. I don’t expect the ins and outs of every business meeting with executives, but staying silent about everything except for monthly newsletters that offer very little encouraging progress and hasn’t updated since September of last year is not a good sign. And I’m especially hard on this topic, Butch, because this is the biggest point where it is seriously hard to trust you. It’s not criticizing your ego when after having too many cracks in your story, you really haven’t put your money where your mouth is.

I don’t wanna presume the guy’s given up on it, hoping everybody would forget it after a while, but he’s really put the effort in to make Oaxis feel like a afterthought. I’m not an expert in business, but even I can believe that after his non-apology for not being upfront with his initial intentions, that he’d try to provide updates on the project to not come off as the scam artist people have accused him as. Even with his Youtube channel that I’ll get to later, I don’t think it’s hard consistently posting about your so called vision if you have that much faith in its success. You’ve already gotten thousands of bucks initially with the crowdfund, people deserve more than your pitiful wishful platitudes and I unfortunately can’t believe you’ll have anything after a few years. It’s not that everyone forgot about it, but you mostly took the money and ran. If Butch pops up with something if he sees this somehow, I’ll eat that crow, but I sincerely doubt it after this long. Like at least post something on the Twitter, I get depressed just looking at it; that account is the textbook definition of famine.

The Childhood Reposter

I’ve brought up Butch’s youtube channel a couple times, and it’s when every time I look at it, it’s a little sad. When it comes to major creators, I typically think that after finishing their projects they’d move to newer things. People like Lauren Faust, Mike Judge, CH Greenblatt are all continuing to make new works under differing studios while new creators are getting the spotlight. Butch though? I mean, he has a new cartoon that I swear you’ve never heard about but other than that, the dude looks like he has little to say for himself nowadays beyond the 2 shows he’s famous for, Fairly Odd Parents and Danny Phantom. I would’ve added TUFF Puppy and Bunsen is a Beast but I can see that those two aren’t his major players seeing as how they’re rarely ever mentioned on the channel.

If it’s not some watchmojo level meme video, almost every other video is about either two of those shows in some varied fashion. I get that he “created your childhood” and made credulous bank from Nickelodeon, but it’s like Danny Phantom is all that stands between him and having an audience. That and drawing anime characters in his style which is... y’know, I’ll leave that to you. It’s like he retired and yet goes on about the good old days like a fluctuating ego. He’s still making a cartoon but to him that’s hardly a factor compared to his known successes.

Personally, I wouldn’t want to just be known as the guy who made two of your countless beloved cartoons. Not that that’s all he talks about, but it’s the insistence of his legacy that unfortunately gives me Bojack Horseman vibes. He no doubt has a good thing going but I believe that this isn’t gonna last. Just saying, dude has 850K subscribers and unless it’s a real hook like with the recent Danny Phantom/Jake Long death battle, he’s hardly getting a good fraction of views anymore. There’s only so many times you can milk Danny Phantom as your masterpiece before everyone moves on.

The Holy Boast

I wanna make this short because I’m not a huge talker of religion, but I stand to say that you should NOT, under any circumstance, believe BPD, PTSD, autism, fucking heart & kidney failure can be “cured” or “healed” through sermons of prayer. This here? This is genuinely something else.

https://www.healingjourneys.today/

For clarity, this was a gospel conference hosted by Butch and his wife and yes, they openly proclaim that BPD, austism, and heart disease can be cured through prayer of holy worship.

Now, I’m gonna give a full disclosure right here because this most certainly biases my point here, like I’m gonna own this. But my grandpa was a religious man that suffer from health problems. He notably prayed to carry on, yes, but at the same time he sought medical help. Even he told me that prayers wasn’t gonna keep the pacemaker going, he went to the doctors and actually did more than read the bible to improve himself. He unfortunately passed, but he was in his 70s and I honestly couldn’t believe, as hard as I try, that he was gonna live forever. My grandpa would’ve no doubt died far earlier if he followed this conference’s logic.

My point is that this is personally unsettling. I seriously cannot believe this is how autism and religion works and it blows my mind that him and his wife thought this conference was a suitable idea. I’m not bashing them as christians, but thinking mental disorders and bodily diseases can be done away with motivational seminars because that’s basically what they are is a legit slap to the face. And the seedling idea that they’ve done this before blows my mind.

The Financial Flaker

This is very recent and everything is generally explained in the 12 minute video but long story short: Butch hired an artist and never paid them for their work. The artist in question, Kuro, describes what happened between him and Butch in this video and provides receipts. Can’t really add anything to this myself beyond this just builds to the idea that Butch cannot be trusted as a professional business maker. I believe he still has people working for him but from this video, it tells me that Hartman will gladly use those lower than him in favorable pursuits and will gladly throw ignorance when he wants to because his cartoon veteran status presents that shield from thinking he can do no wrong, which can mean throttling his hires.  Let’s end this.

The Conclusion

When I get down to it, Butch is almost a Machiavellian character in a way. It’s amazing how much the trust people have had with Hartman have evaporated in less than a couple years. It’s amazing how much his ego has truly shown after he stopped being a namestay in Nickelodeon. Haven’t even mentioned the times he arrogantly deflected criticism because he was a namestay at Nick and how a couple who’ve worked with are well aware of his ego. I can’t help but believe that even after everything, he claims ignorance to his fall from grace and keeps going. Even when more and more are knowing his true self, he’s mostly just doing what he’s been doing for the past few years.

It’s respectable in a way, but shows that the world will move on without him. Again, if you like Danny Phantom and Fairly OddParents, I won’t judge you for it nor say you should be ashamed. This isn’t about cancelling Butch, or get him to stop spreading whatever wacky things he believes in. It’s my personal take of how this man whom I once respected because of what he made before has lost every bit of that from me. It really feels like he grew up with that “I Created Your Childhood” mentality being a 4 time showrunner for almost a couple decades. And when he finally left Nickelodeon, I guess the chance to be that stand out self-made success got to his head and he finally showed his true colors. I now find it hard to believe Butch cares about the little guy that were his fans as much as he rides off his success and others who tolerate him. As such, like JK Rowling, more are seeing this side of him and leaving him behind. Meanwhile Butch is gonna chug on until he just loses steam. It’s kinda like Icarus where the guy will make every effort to fly to the sun. But sooner or later, he’s gonna fall, and in the end I doubt anyone’s gonna care to see it. I know he won’t.

[randomfandomz]

GET READY FOR A LOT OF HUSK HEADCANNONS

Im not sorry–

Depressed as f*ck so he doesnt have the modivation to take care of himself

He drinks mainly to forget, and to releive stress

Not only that but he H A T E S water(not as much as Baxter does, but he still avoids it like the plauge)

He never showers until he absolutely has to

Like his fur is always matted and alchohol scented

And he thinks licking himself clean like non-demon cats do is absolutely out of the question, it is gross and undignified, he doesnt want to lick himself and water makes his fur feel heavy and cold and he w i l l argue with you about this

He hates having fur. He just hates it. Its hard to take care of and things get stuck in it, it gets caught in things and just hhhh h h h H H - NO

Will straight up refuse to shower until Charlie makes him

Everyone in the hotel knows about shower day

The day when they make Husk take a shower because e w g r o s s o l d m a n -

Baxter somewhat sympathizes with him about his hatred of water

Not like he actually shows it or does anything to help him though- because 1) Bax really doesnt give a flying f*ck, he just wants to do science and this doesnt concern science so he couldnt care less, and 2) He doesnt wanna speak up because s o c i a l a n x i e t y . S o c i a l i n t e r a c t i o n ? N o t h a n k y o u .

Hes literally a cat, so he hates water with a burning passion

Husk's self image is kinda... ehhhhhh- I mean, its not like he really is that bad looking, if anything he looks pretty damn cool, but he honestly finds himself pretty unattractive. "The fur and wings d o n t h e l p "

Doesnt care if you call him old unless youre trying to be offensive; Hes proud of his age and experience

Even though he acts like an old man(well, he kinda is, but-) hes actually younger than Baxter, Mimzy, Alastor, Angel, and Nifty

Only Vaggie and Crymini are younger than him

When Husk first arrived at the hotel he didnt really wanna interact with anyone; New places kind of stress him out, so it took a long time for him to adjust and not snap at every little thing

Dont get me wrong, hes still a pissy alchoholic^tm, but the anger is less serious/genuine and more just because thats how he is

Husk fought in the vietnam war, and he attempted(and failed) suicide multiple times after the war until he was eventually beaten to death outside of a bar

He turned to alchoholism and gambling as a coping mechanism

Husk suffers from PTSD(Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), along with the obvious alchoholism and gambling addiction

He is very salty/sad that he's a war vet but died in a bar fight, and wouldn't be remembered for his fighting but rather for being beaten to death in a bar while trying to drink away the feelings he had about not being welcomed home because of the way the media portrayed him and his fellow soldiers that fought in Vietnam

Upon learning that Husk is a vietnam war vet(he mentioned it while drunk off his ass- more than usual) one patron who attended the hotel for a short time told him "Welcome home doc!". Husk was surprised, as he had come to terms with the idea that he would never be thanked or welcomed for his services, but he did make sure to be maybe a bit less pissy to that particular guest. He will never forget them. It meant more to him than he would like to admit.

((I can't really think of a better reason as to why Husk would bring it up, but having seen one or two instances of someone saying "welcome home" to Vietnam war vets, I really wanted to add this. The "Welcome home doc" thing was me referencing a specific instance of this ive seen. Im so sorry if I'm wrongly portraying this in anyway, I tried to do enough research first before typing this part out, but I just wanted to point out that I tried my best to be respectful while talking about the subject.))

Moving on- L A S E R P O I N T E R S

One time Angel was just casually messing around with a laser pointer, out of boredom or something

HUSK'S RESPONSE WAS IMMEDIATE

HE WILL CHASE THAT RED DOT TO THE ENDS OF THE GODDAMN EARTH

"That DAMN RED DOT where the FUCK did iT gO!?"

He HATES that he does this, but he really cannot help it

Being a cat demon, and being Husk, his hunt and kill instinct is through the roof(hunt and kill instinct is why cats chase laser pointers btw)

Was VERY pissy for the next few weeks after this incident

Husk will purr involuntarily whenever someone pets him or strokes his fur

He WILL murder anyone who attempts to pet him or make him purr without consent(*COUGH COUGH* ANGEL *COUGH*)

Same goes for the wings DO NOT TOUCH THE WINGS, JUST DONT-

In his room, Husk's bed is literally a mound of blankets and pillows inside a box

Even he needs to get warm and comfortable after a long day

He never lets anyone in his room

Like n e v e r

Angel snuck in one night- Husk's half asleep drunken a*s shoved him out and yelled at him, waking up practically all the hotel staff and a few guests

In his defense, Angel, upon seeing the sleeping Husk, scratched behind his ears. Husk started to purr, but then snapped to somewhat conciousness, and realized what the f*ck was going on-

Yes, Husk is v e r y defensive

Give him a compliment? He wont accept it under any circumstances. He will probably be flustered and claim that the other is either lying or just kissing up to him

"You know you dont have to kiss my a*s to ask me something, right? The fuck do you want?"

Charlie honestly finds his reaction to compliments very sad

Has a kind of "well ya didnt need to point it out" attitude towards insults

Alastor insults him with the worst names in the book? He accepts it and couldnt give less f*cks

Even if its someone either than Alastor insulting him, usually even if he acts offended and p*ssed off, somewhere in his mind he just accepts it

Usually Alastor is the one insulting him, but in a "best friend rights" kind of way

He likes being creative when it comes to colorful language

"Look out to my sea of f*cks, and see how it is barren"

Doesnt have a "soft spot" for kids like Angel, but doesnt mind lessening the swearing a bit and doing a few magic tricks for the occasional child that somehow found their way to the hotel

He HISSES

If Husk is hissing at you you better f*ckin rUN-

He usually refrains from hissing- its part of him rebelling against his cat-like nature, but if he is openly hissing at you it means he is at his wits-end and is honestly P * S S E D .

sERIOUSLY, F*CKING R U N -

Crymini has a blog documenting all the cat-like things Husk does, and she sometimes does the classic "THIS IS A HUSK IN ITS NATURAL HABITAT" or "LETS SEE HOW THE KITTY REACTS TO THIS NEXT THING" bit, and Husk honestly finds it insulting as f*ck

Crymini pranked Husk with a cucumber(you know how cats on the internet are terrified of them) and Husk was actually scared of it, and he ran up a f*cking tree and wouldnt come down for a solid hour, partly put of legitimate fear, and partly out of spite from seeing the slightly guilty look on Crymini's face after the first 20 minutes of him hiding up there

Being a cat demon, alchohol is actually slightly toxic to him, and he is prone to alchohol poisoning. He usually drinks beer, which has low ammount of ethanol(5-7%)[ethanol is what makes alchohol so toxic to cats]

Baxter has a spray bottle to use on Husk if he is being particularly stubborn or bothersome. Charlie sometimes uses her own spray bottle for similar purposes, but she usually says something like "Bad kitty! No!" Along with it to tease him. Husk finds it humiliating and hates when his fur is wet, so surprisingly the spray bottle thing usually works.

He is demi-panromantic and asexual

H A T E S being touched, like under any circumstances

"The last time I voluntarily made physical contact with another being was in 1970 and it was while I was loosing a bar fight. It was also the day I was beaten to death and setenced to hell."

Bonus:

Angel: Hey kitty~! Wanna cuddle~?

Husk: The last time I voluntarily made physical contact with another being was in 1970 and it was while I was loosing a bar fight.

Angel: Oh really? *snickers* And how'd that work out for ya'?

Husk: Well, it was also the day I was beaten to death and put in hell. So I dunno. You tell me.

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

Lowkey curious but what do you think about the characterisations of the various Boleyns on the West End? (ie Millie, Vicki, Collette etc) From when I’ve seen them, they seem to have the most variance imho which makes for really interesting viewing 👍??

Anon, I’m so glad you asked...

A massive thank you to the sixcord, @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and @sixcastappreciation for giving me a hand with a few of the Boleyn portrayals, as I obviously don’t know EVERY version of the queen. Also please do try and keep in mind that this isn’t me talking about 10 different characters but 10 different versions of the same character, so there’s going to be absolutely loads of overlap between most of the portrayals and I will just have more to say about certain versions.

(Also I physically can’t do that read more thing on mobile I’m sorry okay? Don’t anon message me I know this is annoying)

Overall:

All of the Boleyns are incredibly competitive characters, wanting to win the competition and being willing to do or say anything to achieve that. I’d also argue that every Boleyn is sort of a horrible person (although an absolutely fantastic character!) although to varying extents. All versions of Boleyn are also confident, charming, loud and cheeky. Again, this is all to varying extents.

Every Boleyn from Millie onwards is chaotic, BUT I think that has more to do with the changes in script and the directing rather than everyone else “copying” Millie.

There’s also an easy argument to be made that at least some versions (if not all versions) suffer from some form PTSD due to the events that took place. However that would make this post twice as long and you’ve already waited long enough for it.

Ashleigh Boleyn:

Looking back on anything from the student run of Six is always really hard because it suffered from a lot of “first instalment weirdness”, although I’d argue that the differences in Boleyn came more down to the direction that Ashleigh decided to take her in rather than the script, since Dont Lose Ur Head was relatively unchanged unlike some songs (looking at Haus of Holbein with that weird tempo and No Way/Heart of Stone’s completely different lyrics).

Despite it being the first instalment of Boleyn, I don’t think Ashleigh ever comes off as a “beta” version of Boleyn. In fact, Ashleigh has one of the most distinct Boleyns. Her accent is kind of upper class (like most of the queens from this run) so it gives off a more refined version of Boleyn that some of the others. You could also argue that she’s maybe the more calculated and cunning, and I do think that this Boleyn maybe thinks things out a little more than others, but I wouldn’t say that she’s defined by being calculated and cunning. I’d actually argue that this Boleyn feels very entitled to her position as the queen who had the worst time, and again maybe that’s the accent influencing my judgment, but it definitely makes for an interesting character. I’d also argue that this is maybe one of the most confident and self assured Boleyn. Again, accent/singing definitely influencing all of this, but this Boleyn doesn’t feel like she has anything to prove to anyone and doesn’t have to explain anything she does, leading to her sounding more offended (or even inconvenienced) than scared or shocked during the end of DLUH.

Also Six please bring back the violin in Dont Lose Ur Head. It came out of nowhere, it was hilarious and really suited the character.

Christina Boleyn (live):

Christina Boleyn is probably the most interesting to me because I genuinely believe that she didn’t mean to hurt anyone. This version Boleyn isn’t mean for the sake of being mean or hurting people before they can hurt her (which will both be discussed later down the line) , this Boleyn is mean because she completely lacks a brain to mouth filter. She still is incredibly rude and dismissive and kind of an asshole, but at least she’s not being deliberately spiteful which is a massive step up from other portrayals.

The thing is about Christina Boleyn (and Ashleigh Boleyn now that I think about it) is that Boleyn wasn’t defined by being the “chaotic” queen yet. In fact, I wouldn’t call Christina “chaotic” as such, just more carefree if that makes sense? She causes the chaos, but she herself isn’t a chaotic personality and the chaos she causes doesn’t always come off as intentional. Christina Boleyn does things because they make her happy, and to hell with anyone else. Again, it comes back to Christina not being deliberately mean. Yes it’s selfish, and she doesn’t shy away from being competitive but mostly this Boleyn is just out to have a good time. Outside the contest you could probably have a drink with this version of Boleyn.

Christina!Boleyn (cast recording):

I feel like Christina’s portrayal on the album suffers in the same way Aimie’s portrayal of Howard suffers on the album i.e all the vocals had to sound perfect at the expense of the actual performance. Christina can’t be as expressive and that’s a massive blow to the character. This characterisation also sort of suffers from the fact that this is only the song vs the other portrayals all having full shows and dialogue, so I do understand that it’s incredinly unfair to try and compare this version to the others but damn it I have opinions and you’re all going to here about them.

Anyway, it’s sort funny to me how the characterisation between the live version of Boleyn and the album are so different considering it’s the same actress. On the album, Christina Boleyn feels much more flirtatious, to the point where I think it’s the most flirtatious Boleyn yet. Maybe it’s the way she purrs? I’m not sure. And while this Boleyn does still feel carefree (although to a much lesser extent), this is overpowered by how much meaner Christina is here. For example, “I didn’t really mean it but rumours spiral” comes off as a a blatant lie in the album, versus being mostly believeable in the live version. There are meaner boleyns. But the problem is that there’s not much to offset that meanness on the album vs the other portrayals. Again, I know it’s unfair to unfair to compare it but it’s all just my opinion. I still love the album because,,,it’s an album and i want to support six and also Christina as an actress because I still think she was amazing and I hate how Christina is just glossed over sometimes.

Millie Boleyn:

So I feel like illie’s version of Boleyn has become one of the the de-facto version of the character for a lot of people, mostly because she has not one but two professionally recorded videos of Don’t Lose Ur Head. She is often credited as being the actress to define Boleyn as chaotic, but again I feel that has more to do with the script and the directing

On a characterisation note, I’d say Millie is actually pretty balanced between loads of elements. Millie is flirtatious, but not the most flirtatious. She’s mean, but not the meanest. She’s patronising, but not the most patronising. She’s proud of her position in history, but doesn’t revel in it. Again, she definitely feels less carefree and more like she’s chugged seven energy drinks before going on stage...but that’s why a lot of people like Millie!Boleyn and she’s always so much fun to watch. I would also say that Millie is possibly the Boleyn who the PTSD/hurting others before they can hurt her makes the most sense for, but I don’t want to hand that title to her because I KNOW that argument can be made for all the others too. But there’s also something very sarcastic about Millie’s Boleyn. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that this Boleyn doesn’t believe anything she’s saying, but there are certainly parts where Millie!Boleyn is playing into her own archetype and poking fun at misconceptions.

Grace Boleyn:

Grace Boleyn feels like she leans in most to the “queen bee cheerleader” archetype the most for Boleyn. She’s better than you and she knows it, and she’s going to let you know as well/put you in you’re place. There’s also something patronising about Grace Boleyn, really talking down to and belitting the other queens at any chance she gets. All the Boleyn’s talk down to the other queens, but for some reason I really notice it with Grace...ESPECIALLY when Howard is involved.

Vicki Boleyn:

Vicki Boleyn has earned herself a reputation for being absolutely both chaotic and completely feral, and with good reason. I feel like Vicki having a much rougher accent when compared to every other Boleyn really impacts her character (absolutely no hate to Vicki’s London accent because I actually love it). And when you take into consideration Vicki literally screaming every line to Don’t Lose Ur Head, it’s safe to say that this Boleyn would be the most likely to just deck you in the face.

But I mean,,, that’s why people love Vicki Boleyn. Yeah she’s an absolute asshole, but she’s a loveable asshole at the very least. Her spiteful nature is at least balanced out with some amazing ad-libbed lines when the queens make fun of Parr and she’s so over the top that you just can’t help but like her. And I’d argue that this is the Boleyn I kind of feel most sorry for, because Vicki sounds so distressed when asking “what was I meant to do”, like she genuinely doesn’t understand why Henry suddenly doesn’t like the attitude that made him originally love her. And that’s actually super sad??? And that’s why Vicki Boleyn is still incredibly sympathetic despite being the most horrible, unlike the album Boleyn where Christina wasn’t as inherently unlikeable but didn’t have anything to offset how terrible she came off as.

Collette Boleyn:

Okay not going to lie, when I first listened to the Collette Boleyn Megasix I actually thought it was Millie singing because I put my phone down to check my iPad and I forgot it was a Collette Boleyn video. I’m promise I’m smart.

Even though Collette sounds like a mix between Vicki and Millie, I think @vioislit summed up her characterisation best: she kind of sounds like the most done gen z version of Boleyn. She’s done with Henry, she’s done with the other queens and she’s done with the competition. Like she’s doing this because she was to, because it's in her contract, but she doesn't really care either way. (That’s not an insult to Collette at ALL! I mean it characterisation wise, it doesn’t feel like Collette herself is just there for the paycheck at all). It’s like,,,Collette!Boleyn KNOWS that even if she does lose the competition, it doesn’t really matter in the long run because she’ll always be the most famous and most talked about wife even if she does lose this one little competition. One 75 minute show won’t erase the last 500 years of history.

Collette!Boleyn seems very proud of her infamy, and again this can probably be argued for all of the Boleyn’s but Collette truly seems to revel in the fact that she’s the “biggest sinner”.

Andrea Boleyn:

With Andrea Boleyn I can really see the Avril Lavigne vibes. Andrea really plays into the “I’m really cute and innocent but I’m not” and it works REALLY well. It’s probably to do with her voice being a little higher than the others, along with her being so adorably tiny, that makes the switches between the two versions so interesting.

There’s also something about her accent, but I don’t mean that as an insult at all. In fact it really works. Andrea’s Boleyn comes off as a high schooler in some ways, who really just really is there to have a good time but isn’t actually thinking about any of the consequences of anything she’s doing. And obviously that makes her more sympathetic than Boleyns who actually know what they’re doing is wrong and will get them hurt.

Mallory Boleyn:

Like I’ve been saying this entire time, I feel like there’s something very similar to Grace’s Boleyn with Mallory’s portrayal. That sort of “queen bee, better than you and knows it” sort of vibe is present in both versions.

But the key difference is that Mallory Boleyn is defensive. She’s probably the single most defensive Boleyn out of the lot. Her insults come split seconds after anyone tries to give examples of why they might have had the worst time, rather than waiting a few seconds like the others Boleyns do.

And I mean,,,that kind of makes sense? Throughout all of history, Boleyn is the one who usually gets her story told the most, and because no one ever really talks about Howard, Boleyn is usually seen as the one who had the worst time. And this competition could potentially strip Boleyn of that title and give it to someone such as Seymour or Howard. And Mallory Boleyn is not about to have that. Yes, this could explain why all the Boleyn’s are so competitive, but Mallory being less playful with her insults makes me think that there’s more to her Boleyn that just winning the competition for the sake of winning it.

THAT. TOOK. WAY. TOO. LONG.

What’s it been??? Like a month??? Oh my Christ I’m so glad to get this done.

Okay all jokes aside I did actually enjoy doing this post for the most part. Yeah, it took absolutely ages and some queens made me want to rip my hair out, but it was fun comparing and contrasting them all and getting all my notes together. Like I’ve said before, I’m happy to do another one of these but it would probably take just as long. Anon me with suggestions!

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 24 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 24 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters. If you’re sticking with us despite the long breaks between chapters, then you’re wonderful and I adore you. Thank you so much to our beta readers, @kitschypixel , @jimvssherlock , and @missdandee <3 <3 <3

Summary: Relationships are tricky.

TW: Discussions of emotional abuse, PTSD

***

When Courtney’s alarm begins to go off, ripping her from a deep and peaceful sleep, it feels almost violent. She jolts awake, fumbling for the phone, eyes widening when she sees the time. She’d somehow fucked up and set the alarm an hour later than she meant to.

“Shit!” She jumps from the bed, the suddenness of leaving the warm covers and cocoon of body heat like being hit with cold water. She rouses Bianca, as gently as possible given the situation.

“Nooo, it’s too early,” Bianca groans into her pillow.

“It’s 5:15,” Courtney tells her apologetically.

Bianca’s eyes fly open. “Motherfucker.”

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ll still make it if we rush. I’ll take care of the dogs!” Courtney calls back over her shoulder, taking off running towards the kitchen.

***

Courtney’s not sure how to navigate the work situation. Will Bianca want to keep everything under wraps? She’s not officially divorced yet, after all. It seems a little insane that with all their endless discussions about everything under the sun, that hasn’t come up. And  the hectic rush to get to set on time this morning stopped her from asking.

So in the lunch line, when Adore asks her why she looks so happy, she keeps her mouth firmly shut.

“Come on, tell me. Did something finally happen with B? Did you guys bang?” Adore’s eyes glitter with mischief.

“We did not,” Courtney says emphatically.

“Okay well...but you banged someone, right? Did you get laid while she was out of town? Is it someone I know? I won’t tell, promise.”

Courtney rolls her eyes and shakes her head. When she sees Bianca walking over, her eyes light up, destroying her attempt to play it cool.

“Come on,” Adore says, a grin spreading across her face. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Courtney insists, then turns to Bianca with a sheepish smile. “Hey...how’s it going?” She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, arms wrapped around herself.

It takes Bianca a moment to catch on, looking from Courtney’s uncomfortable expression to Adore’s curious grin. It didn’t occur to her before that Courtney wouldn’t tell Adore, but she assumes that it’s because of her. In spite of everything that happened between them, Courtney’s still clearly unsure where she stands.

But Bianca has no desire for Courtney to be some dirty little secret. So she steps closer, cupping Courtney’s face with her hands.

“It’s going great. How are you?”

Bianca doesn’t notice the mouths of their coworkers dropping open in surprise. She just watches Courtney’s face, her green eyes wide.

“I’m...really good.” Courtney’s breathing is shallow, heart racing as her hands find Bianca’s waist.

“That’s good,” she murmurs, then presses a kiss to Courtney’s lips, soft and deep.

“You fuckin’ liar!” Adore says, clapping her hands gleefully.

They part, giggling a little, and Bianca knows that she’s making a spectacle, that there must be a whole bunch of eyes on them, but she can’t bring herself to feel anything but elation.

“I didn’t think you’d want people to know,” Courtney whispers, pressing her forehead to Bianca’s.

“Well, I do. I want everyone to know,” Bianca replies. Dimples are deep in her cheeks, and Courtney reaches a hand up to touch one, giddy with happiness.

Bianca kisses her again, deeper this time.

“Okay, it was cute at first but now it’s just...gross.” Adore’s nose wrinkles and she grabs a plate, finally up to the front of the buffet line. “Guys?”

Feeling a bit light-headed, Courtney nuzzles her face into Bianca’s neck, gripping her waist.

“Oh my god, stop,” Adore says. “You’re holding up the line. Look alive!”

“Alright already,” Bianca laughs, finally lifting her head and taking a plate with a happy sigh.

***

Courtney places the dogs’ bowls on the ground and then stands up, brushing her hands off, to find Bianca’s eyes on her. A faint blush rises to her cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Bianca reaches for her, taking her hand. “I’m just...glad to have you alone. Finally.”

Courtney takes a deep breath as Bianca wraps her into an embrace, gazing at her with heavy-lidded blue eyes.

“Yeah. It’s pretty fantas…” Courtney trails off as Bianca’s plush lips graze her neck. She gives herself a moment to enjoy it. Several moments, if she’s honest--long enough to feel Bianca’s soft hands sliding up under her top. Her eyes have fallen closed, stomach twisting with desire, before she catches herself and clears her throat. “Uh...B?”

“Mmmh?”

“I just want to make sure that we, uh...manage our expectations here.”

Bianca lifts her head, a puzzled look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything’s fine. Everything’s great, actually, but...I have my period.”

“Okay?”

“So...I think we should maybe...hold off for now.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be squeamish about that,” Bianca teases gently.

“Well...I’m not. But...it’s a little hard core for a first time...I mean, sort of.” Courtney bites her lip, trying not to think about how this wouldn’t actually be their first time.

“Okay.” Bianca takes a deep breath. She’s ready to claw down the curtains, but she doesn’t want to make Courtney feel bad. “Yeah, if you’re not comfortable, then-”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

“No, I get it. Sorry if I seemed too-”

“It’s okay. I just...want things to be…”

“I know.”

Courtney swallows, lacing her fingers into Bianca’s.

“I care about you so much, B.”

“Me too.” Bianca places a gentle kiss on her cheek, but her mind is racing. She cares? What happened to love? Why are we backtracking? Calm down, calm down, she probably means it in a good way.

***

Later, when Bianca slides into bed, she’s still feeling a bit unsure of where they stand. Her insecurity is alleviated when Courtney snuggles into her, pulling Bianca’s arms around her from behind and sighing deeply. She seems content and happy and it has an immediate calming effect on Bianca’s nerves.  

Bianca buries her face into Courtney’s hair, breathing in deeply, moving some of the wavy tresses aside to kiss her neck. Her arms tighten around Courtney’s slender body, pulling her impossibly close as her lips continue to trace patterns on her neck and shoulder.

“B-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go near your...bathing suit area,” Bianca promises.

“My what?”

“You know, your...downstairs.”

Courtney flips around, puzzled amusement contorting her features.

“Downstairs?” she asks skeptically.

“What...what do you call it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Pussy?” Courtney says, and Bianca grimaces. “Or cunt.”

Bianca’s brow furrows deeper, letting out a disgusted, “Ughh!”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to adopt ‘downstairs,’” Courtney laughs.

“Fine, but do we have to be so…” Bianca’s nose wrinkles.

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

After a brief pause, Bianca offers up an angelic smile, dimples deep, and then asks, “Hoo-ha?”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Courtney shrieks, still laughing.

“Sorry. I guess I was brought up to be a little…”

“Repressed?”

“I was gonna say ‘ladylike,’” Bianca corrects her.

“Oh yeah. That’s you. Delicate as fuck.” Courtney grins.

“Listen…”

“Yes?”

“...I have nothing. You win. We’ll call it whatever you want.”

Courtney giggles again, snuggling close and murmuring, “I love you…”

Bianca runs a hand through her hair, smiling to herself as she whispers back, “I love you more.”

***

“How are you feeling today?” Bob asks, as Bianca settles down onto the sofa.

“I’m feeling...great, actually.” A smile pulls at Bianca’s lips. “I’ve had a good week.”

“That’s wonderful. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yeah, um.” Bianca pauses, letting the happiness sink in a little before she continues. She’s almost bursting at the seams, anxious to share her news, but at the same time, she feels protective about it - pure joy has been so rare for her lately. Maybe dissecting it in therapy isn’t the best idea.

“You were going home for the weekend, for a wedding. Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh! Yeah, that was great. Um, super fun, and...uh, yeah. It was really nice to see everyone. And I got to eat a lot of fried shit, which was very exciting.”

“Sounds fabulous,” Bob laughs.

“And then...when I got home…” Bianca glances out the window, that secret smile making her dimples appear. “Things finally happened with Courtney. Like...for real.” She turns back to Bob, biting her lip.

“Wow. That’s something you’ve been anticipating for a long time.”

“Tell me about it,” Bianca giggles. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

“And has it been what you expected? So far?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days, but...I feel like it’s even better than I expected. She’s just so...warm. And kind. And beautiful. I just keep looking at her wondering how I go so lucky.” Bianca’s cheeks have begun to heat up a little, embarrassed at how much she’s gushing.

Bob smiles and makes a quick note.

“Have you had any challenges?”

“Uh, no. She’s perfect.” Bianca laughs again,

“Courtney’s perfect...noted,” Bob says, eyebrow arched.

“No, I know that nobody is perfect. I mean...she’s really messy and kinda disorganized.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Well...it’s kind of cute, actually.” Bianca giggles. “But you know what, get back to me in a few weeks.”

Bob chuckles and folds her hands.

“Fair enough. Let’s put a pin in that for now. What about you? We already know that you’re not perfect.”

“Thanks, doc,” Bianca scoffs.

“I think you know what I mean. You’ve been dealing with a lot of heavy stuff and hormones on top of everything. It would be normal to be sensitive, edgy, anxious, moody. So how are you, overall?”

“I’m great. I’m...I haven’t been happy like this in...I don’t know. Maybe ever. I’m just trying to enjoy it.”

“And you should.” Bob makes another note. “Listen, I’m not trying to invent problems for you that don’t exist. I just want to make sure you’re checking in with yourself enough. Sometimes, when we’re in this kind of honeymoon stage, we can ignore our needs because they don’t feel as pressing.”

“I don’t know if ‘honeymoon’ is the right description,” Bianca says with a chuckle.  

“What do you mean?”

“Oh.” Bianca shook her head. “I was kinda kidding. Just because...well, we haven’t slept together yet. I mean, we’ve slept in the same bed, but just not...”

“Got it.”

“And, you know, it’s fine, it’s just that I’ve been like...extremely hard-up, if you catch my drift. People warned me that it would happen at this point in my pregnancy, so I’m not really surprised. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that she’s smoking hot. So yeah.” Bianca sighs.

“So...a problem? Not a problem?”

“No, I’m fine with waiting. She hasn’t been ready, so…and I’m trying not to take it personally, because like, there’s a little voice in my head saying that she’s just not into me like that right now. Or maybe just like, even the idea of me being pregnant is weird for her; my body is different and that’s...I don’t know. I’m not too worried,” Bianca insists, aware that she’s begun babbling.

Reel it back in. Come on.

Bianca smiles brightly before continuing, determined not to be the douchebag whining about her girlfriend not putting out.

“I’m sure it’ll happen soon. And if not, I’ll just continue my monogamous relationship with the shower massager,” Bianca finishes with a smirk, pleased with herself for injecting some humor into the situation, especially when Bob laughs.

“You know,” Bob says, folding her hands. “...there could be a lot of reasons that she’s not ready. Have you talked to her about it?”

“No! No, I don’t want to make a big out of it. And she’s had like...reasons, so. I think it’s just that I’m fully ready to jump through fire to be with her. So anything she says feels like kind of a weak excuse. Which is my problem, not hers.”

“Maybe she doesn’t take sex lightly?”

Bianca raises her eyebrows, giving a look of such dismissive disdain to this suggestion that Bob chuckles.

“Okay, well, maybe she’s not taking sex with you lightly.”

“Right. Maybe. But...it’s not like this would be our first time. And I mean, anything would be better than that.”

“You’ve had sex with her before?” Bob looks puzzled.

“Yeah. Back when...a few months ago. We’d been drinking a lot, and things got a little...uh...complicated.”

“A few months ago, you were still with Jared, correct?”

Bianca shifts a little.

“Yeah. Uh...he was there too.”

“I see.”

“Jared always had kind of a...he knew I liked girls, and he liked...watching it. So when he saw us together, I guess he got it in his head that it would be...um, I dunno exactly what he was thinking. But he convinced her to come home with us.”

“And...what happened when she went home with you?”

“You want details? Wow, Bob, didn’t take you for the kinky type.”

Bob rolls her eyes slightly, and Bianca sighs.

“Well, the truth is, I don’t remember much. I know we were together, but it was kind of hard to focus on that, because seeing her with Jared was so-” Bianca cringes, clearing her throat.

“She was with Jared?”

“Yeah.” Bianca closes her eyes. “She didn’t really want to, but he kind of...insisted.”

“Insisted?” Bob’s head tilts, concerned. “Did Jared assault her?”

“No! No, that’s not...I mean…” Bianca’s palms start to itch, pulse quickening.

“Okay. So after this...let’s just say ‘coerced’ sex with your husband...what happened? Did you discuss it?”

Bianca shook her head, blood rushing to her ears.

“No. She tried, but I...I couldn’t...oh, shit.” A small whimper escapes her throat as she realizes the gravity of her selfishness. “God, I’m such an asshole.” A choked sob follows, the walls of the room closing in on her. Her knuckles are white, fingers gripping a throw pillow for dear life.

“Bianca...look at me. Take a deep breath, okay?”

Bianca lifts her eyes, cloudy with tears, and follows Bob’s gentle instructions until her breathing returns to normal.

Bob pulls her planner off the table and flips it open, clearing her throat.

“I think we better schedule a session with both of you. Sooner the better.”

Bianca nods, dread washing over her like a wave.

***

“Okay, I made two trays of it. Yours has real cheese, and they both have tofu for added protein...what do you think?” Courtney displays the lasagna proudly.

It looks and smells delicious, and despite Bianca’s nerves doing a number on her stomach, she realizes that she’s actually insanely hungry. She can’t believe how quickly Courtney’s mastered Italian food, simply because she said it was her favorite. She silently adds it to the endless list of reasons to love her.

“It looks fantastic. And I’m starving; I can’t wait to try it.”

Courtney smiles and begins to dish out portions.

“Oh shit, it’s really hot. Um, if you’re hungry, you can start on the salad? And there’s some leftover chicken if you want to add that. You know, protein boost.” As usual, Courtney’s biggest concern is making sure that Bianca has everything she needs at all times.

“Thanks. I’m okay, I can wait a minute.”

“I don’t want you to suffer,” Courtney says, and Bianca lets out a soft chuckle.

“Careful, your halo is showing.”

Courtney laughs and gives Bianca a wink as she carries the plates to the table.

“Well, you know me. I love to show off.”  

“Yeah,” Bianca approaches her at the table, wrapping her hands around her waist. “Thank you for making dinner. It looks great.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s lips ghost against hers, breath warm and gentle.

“Mmhmm. You’re a dream.”

“Good dream or bad dream?” Courtney asks somberly, and Bianca pretends to think.

“Ummm...I guess we’ll find out, huh?”

“I thought you were hungry.” Courtney’s fingers play with her hair.

“I am, but I need to ask you...um…do you have any plans tomorrow, after work?” Bianca’s stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Plans without you?” Courtney shakes her head, amused, as if this is too ridiculous an idea to contemplate. “No, why?”

“Well...um, Bob thinks it would be good to do a session with both of us. I mean, if that’s okay with you.” Bianca waits for an answer, chest tight.

“Of course, B.” Courtney presses a kiss against her temple. “Anything you need.”

***

Courtney’s not sure what to expect. Her experience with therapy before now has been pretty minimal, and from what Bianca’s told her, it’s hard to imagine what Bob will be like. The first thing she notices (besides Bob’s height, as she towers over both of them) is her voice. It’s sharp and a bit sardonic--she’s obviously witty, which explains why Bianca likes her--but when she addresses Bianca, her tone gets almost tender, and immediately puts Courtney at ease.

She settles beside Bianca on the sofa, some of her nerves dissipating, open to whatever Bob thinks she needs to hear in order to support Bianca through this journey.

“Hi Courtney. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. I know that B’s been through a really rough time, so anything that I can do to help…”

Courtney rests a hand on Bianca’s thigh, and the warmth of the simple gesture immediately makes Bianca feel secure, combatting the uneasiness she’s been feeling all day.

“So, of course, last time you were here, Bianca, we discussed your evolving relationship. And how you’ve been feeling about it.”

“Yeah. It’s been great,” Bianca says, tucking a strand of hair behind Courtney’s ear.

“Totally great,” Courtney echoes, beaming back at her.  

“I expressed some concerns to Bianca that when you’re in a new relationship, it’s easy to be blinded by how good it feels. And when you’re healing, it’s important to take the time to think about the full picture.”

“I totally agree!” Courtney says. “That’s why we waited so long. I wanted to make sure that B was in a better place, and that it wasn’t just like, a rebound or...an escape.”

“I told you she was smart,” Bianca says, and Courtney leans against her shoulder.

“I just want to support you,” Courtney tells her. “I want you to feel safe, and loved, and...happy.”

“I do, baby,” Bianca whispers softly, into her hair.

“And what about you, Courtney?” Bob asks.

“Sorry?”

“Do you feel safe? Loved? Appreciated?”

“Definitely!” Courtney exclaims, grinning.

“That’s good. Because you know, this has to work both ways,” Bob tells her.

Courtney’s brow furrows slightly.

“I know that. But...sorry, I just thought we were here for B.” Courtney glances at her, then back at Bob. “I mean, you’re her therapist, right? Not mine?”

“That’s true. But if we’re talking about a relationship, it’s probably better to think of me as a kind of impartial sounding board.”

“Okay…” Courtney looks at Bianca again. “Is everything okay? I mean...are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Bianca insists, the unsettled feeling in her chest blossoming into fear as her heart begins to race.

“Courtney, I want to assure that there are no ulterior motives here,” Bob says. “Bianca had nothing but lovely, positive things to say about you. And from what I can tell, everything she said is true. So...no, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Courtney relaxes a little bit, leaning back against the cushions and nodding.

“That said, she did tell me something that I found troubling.” Bob looks at Bianca questioningly. “Do you want to tell Courtney why I asked you to bring her?”

Bianca swallows what feels like a mouthful of sawdust. Anxiety gnaws at her stomach. “Umm...I don’t really know where to…” She trails off, avoiding Courtney’s eyes, that look of panic that’s bound to be all over her face.  

“Okay, well, we were talking about physical intimacy,” Bob says, trying to guide Bianca along.

“Yeah. Um...I guess I mentioned that we’d had that...thing. Earlier this summer.” Bianca bites her lip.

“Oh…” Courtney’s chest tightens a bit. She’s been trying her best not to think about that night. That evening on the beach, when Bianca had confessed to her - that was all she needed to hear, really. She’d been overcome with relief that there was a logical explanation for Bianca’s behavior, that Bianca really did care about her. But she’d also been so concerned with Bianca’s well-being that any unresolved feelings of her own seemed unimportant. She’s thought about bringing it up again at some point, but it hasn’t ever felt like the right time.

“Courtney, I don’t want Bianca’s description to influence you too much here. But she did mention that you hadn’t really discussed it much. So I’m interested in hearing your perspective about that night.” Bob’s tone is light, but there’s a weight behind it that makes Courtney even more nervous.

“What exactly do you want to know?” Courtney looks skeptical, withdrawing into herself. Rehashing that night is the last thing she wants to do right now.

“Not about physical details. But just, emotionally. What was that like for you?” Bob clarifies.

“You mean, at the time? Or later?”

“Why don’t we start with how it felt in the moment?”

Courtney glances at Bianca, biting her lip.

“Are you sure you want us to talk about this? I thought we’d moved past it.”

“Yeah, I think...there might be some things that we didn’t really…” Bianca’s breath hitches. “You should answer.”

Courtney turns back to Bob, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, well...it was...great, mostly. I mean, the truth is that even though I didn’t like to admit it, I’ve wanted her since the moment we met.”

In spite of her anxiety, Bianca feels a small smile pulling at her mouth. Courtney’s never said that out loud, and hearing it makes her melt a little. But she knows that there’s bound to be more coming, more that she’s probably not going to want to hear. She takes a deep breath and listens to Courtney continue.

“And so...yeah, being with her, that way, was...it was a million fantasies coming true.” Courtney looks down at her hands. “But...I guess it was also a little bit sad, because I thought maybe it would be our only chance. Because, you know, I didn’t really know much about her relationship with Jared. So I just assumed...that would be it.”

“What was your impression of Jared?” Bob asks her.

“Uh. I didn’t love him? But, I was also so jealous that I couldn’t really be trusted to make a fair judgment,” she admits.

“So, it’s safe to say that you weren’t attracted to him?”

“What?! No, of course not,” Courtney exclaims. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Bob looks at Bianca, who speaks up in a small voice.

“I told her that you didn’t want to do it, but he kind of...made you,” Bianca’s breath hitches.

“Is that a fair description, Courtney?” Bob asks. “Did you feel coerced in any way?”

Courtney whirls back towards her, blood racing.

“What exactly are you implying?!”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be vague. It sounds like a sexual assault to me. Is that how it felt?”

“No! No, it didn’t.”

Bob makes a note, nodding, and Courtney’s heart races in her chest. What kind of shit is she trying to pull? Courtney feels desperate to defend herself.

“Was it my ideal scenario? No. But I weighed the pros and cons and I made a choice,” Courtney insists. “I’m not a victim here.”

“Why don’t you tell Courtney what we say about the word ‘victim’?” Bob says to Bianca.

“We say ‘survivor,’” Bianca answers, voice breaking, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Courtney looks at her. She seems like she’s in physical pain, knuckles white from gripping the pillow in her lap, brow furrowed and eyes dark and liquid. Seeing her face, Courtney is suddenly overcome with guilt.

“This isn’t what I agreed to,” Courtney says, shaking her head. She looks at Bob accusingly, anger rising to the surface. “I’m not here to make her feel bad; that’s not why I came.”

She moves closer to Bianca on the couch and puts a hand on her shoulder, trying her best to soothe her, ease her mind, as Bianca mumbles another tearful apology.

“I’m fine, B. You don’t need to apologize. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Bianca allows Courtney to take her hand, squeezing her fingers tightly. Bob watches, giving them a few moments to collect themselves before speaking again, in a gentle but decisive voice.

“Courtney, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to give you space for honest communication, alright?”

Courtney’s head snaps up. “Honest communication? That’s what you call this? This was an ambush!”

Bob closes her eyes and sighs.

“You know what, you’re right. I clearly didn’t approach this subject in the right way. I’m very sorry that you feel ambushed. That wasn’t the intention.”

Courtney folds her arms.

“Maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions,” Bob continues. “Can you accept my apology?”

Courtney sighs, nodding.

“Do you want to clarify? Maybe, correct my assumptions?”

Courtney chews on her bottom lip, unsure exactly how to proceed, how much to admit to, then finally says, “I guess...I get why you thought...what you did. He was very determined. But I just...I don’t know how belaboring that will help Bianca. And that’s why we’re here, right?” Courtney takes Bianca’s hand again.

Bob pauses for a moment, considering her words carefully before speaking again.

“Let me describe what I’m seeing here. And again, this is just my impression. But what I see is someone who cares so much about her partner’s comfort that she’s pushing her own feelings aside. I see a lot of love, and a lot of compassion, and the potential for a beautiful relationship. But...you’re not going to get there without honesty. This man hurt both of you.” Courtney opens her mouth to protest, and Bob immediately relents, clarifying, “Not in the same way, and not to the same degree. But you’ve both been manipulated, and you’ve both been hurt. She needs to hear what it was like for you. I promise you, this is as much for Bianca as it is for you.”

“Well, it was…” Courtney sniffles. “I honestly don’t remember that part, I wasn’t really...there. I was just thinking that if I can just get through it, it would be okay. And it might be my only chance to be with her, so-”

“Talk to her…”

“-so even if it was just that one night, it would be...it would be worth it.” Courtney clings to Bianca’s hand.

“Was it worth it?” Bob asks.

“I...I can’t answer that.”

“Did it turn out how you expected?”

“At the time? No. In the morning, when she was-” Courtney pauses and turns to Bianca, “When you were gone, I still thought that maybe it would be okay. A lot happened, maybe you were just like...processing. It didn’t mean that you didn’t care. But then…”

Tears stream down Bianca’s cheeks. She knows what’s coming. This is the part she’s been dreading all day.

“I’m sorry, B.”

“It’s okay. Tell her,” Bob says softly.

“When you said that I...when you pushed me away, I...I just couldn’t understand. It was like, everything had been a lie, and it made me question whether I was even living in reality.”

“Sound familiar?” Bob asks Bianca.

Bianca nods, crying too much to answer. She starts to choke out another apology.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I mean, I know now.” Courtney gently dabs at Bianca’s cheeks with a tissue, her own vision blurry with tears. “I love you, B. I love you so much.”

“Then why don’t you want me?” Bianca blurts out, and Courtney looks at her with alarm.

“Don’t want you?! What-” Courtney stops, shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course I want you. I always have.”

“It just feels like something’s changed. Like...and maybe it’s me. Maybe you just aren’t attracted to me like this.” Bianca gestures down at her body, and Courtney’s head shakes even more vigorously.

“B, I’ve told you, you look beautiful. And to be honest, pretty much exactly the same. Okay? Please, I don’t know why you think I’m…” Courtney rubs her eyes. “I want you, okay? I just…I guess, part of me still worries that if we sleep together, it’ll all go to shit again. I’m not good at this; I don’t usually do relationships. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me, why would you think that?”

“I…” Courtney falters. “I don’t know.”

“May I offer a possible perspective here?” Bob asks. Courtney gestures for her to proceed. “So, the last time you were together, physically, what followed was silence, gaslighting and ultimately...rejection.”

“I don’t know...yeah. I guess.” Courtney lowers her eyes.

“So it’s not exactly a mystery why you’re feeling anxious about doing it again. Is it?”

“No,” Courtney sighs. “But it might be a little irrational.”

“Well, you know, we’re not always perfectly rational. And that’s okay. Look, I don’t think you should force anything. Or do anything before you’re ready. There are a lot of kinds of intimacy,” Bob says. “So, my advice would be to focus on that, and take sex out of the equation entirely.”

“Ugh,” Bianca groans slightly, and Courtney laughs, squeezing her hand.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Bob says, chuckling along. “I don’t mean forever. Just for now. Take the pressure off. Think of it as laying down a foundation...for your, uh...future house...I didn’t think this metaphor through.”

“I think we get it, doc.”

“Right. Well...we still have ten minutes left. Any other problems for me to solve?” Bob jokes, offering a bright smile.

***

Courtney collapses onto the couch, exhausted, nerves frayed.

“Oh my god, how do you do that every week?”

Bianca chuckles softly, sitting down beside her.

“This week it was twice.”

“Jesus.” Courtney pulls her in closer, eyes falling closed. “I know you’re probably hungry, but like...I can’t even think about cooking right now.”

“PostMates?” Bianca suggests, yawning.

“Fabulous.”

Bianca starts to sit up, but Courtney hugs her tight, cuddling closer.

“In a minute…” Courtney says.

“Okay.” Bianca nuzzles into her neck. She feels warm and safe, but guilty. There’s a lump rising in her throat. “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what, baby?” Courtney smoothes down her hair.

“I should never have let him touch you.”

“It’s not your fault, B.”

“And I should have told you...how I really felt about you. I should have told you so much sooner,” Bianca whispers.

“And how’s that?” Courtney asks, lips grazing Bianca’s forehead.

Bianca lifts up her head and looks her square in the eye, brow furrowed.

“...shut up,” she finally says, and Courtney bursts out laughing, snuggling close. 

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 50

Good grief.  When I started this fic 2 years ago, I had no idea that it would reach 50 parts, have over 154k words over 300 pages, have a companion piece, and still wouldn’t be done.  Thank you all so much for reading these words, leaving such wonderful comments, and giving me such amazing encouragement.  It means the world to me.

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 4198

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions/descriptions of anxiety, mental illness, panic attack, PTSD, injuries.  .

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

Bucky was right.  Being in a truck made you feel freer than you had since coming here, because you didn’t feel caged or cloistered.   It didn’t matter that he drove past the same places two or three times, it didn’t matter that you never left the vehicle.  You were free, you were with him, and the sun was shining.  He knew this, so he drove all afternoon until he got a call telling him to go to the jet.

“Are you ready to go home, Sweetheart?”

You can’t answer without crying, so you just nod.

“Then let’s go.”

The late afternoon sun begins bathing everything in a red glow as it languidly makes its way to the horizon; the winter days here are just as short as they are at home.  The reds and oranges in the clouds reflect in the snow and create the deception of it being warmer than it actually is.

Your leg aches – no scratch that, it’s fucking agony – but you don’t say anything.  You tell yourself that it’s because you missed Bucky and don’t want to fog up your first days back together, but deep down you know the truth.  The idea of taking anything, pill or shot, scares the living shit out of you.

Bucky grins at you as he pulls the truck into what looks like a makeshift airfield and up to a waiting jet.  “What, were you expecting an actual airport, Doll?”

“I…maybe?” you laugh as you look around.  It looks like someone just decided to plow a field and then landed a jet in the middle of it.  “Is this even legal?”

“We’re nothing if not resourceful.”  Bucky parks in the shadow of the jet and winks at you as he gets out of the truck, circling to your side to help you out.  Not one to waste an opportunity, he gathers you close and breathes you in as you do the same – these past few weeks were stolen from you and you don’t plan on letting any chances to love go to waste.  

God, you can’t wait to love on your boys.

The sound of crunching snow grabs your attention and a new instinctive fear makes you try to pull away to look around.  Logic tells you that it’s likely one of your friends, but what if it’s not?  What if…

Bucky doesn’t let go, but rather pulls you closer and rubs his hands up and down your back.  “It’s just Steve and Barton checking over the gear,” Bucky murmurs in your ear, “it’s okay, Sweetheart.  I’m here, you’re safe.”

Yes, right.  You’re safe now.  He’s here.  You’re here. You’re safe.  Breathing deeply, you focus on what you can sense; the security of his arms tight around you, the smell of snow in the air, the feeling of his hair tickling your nose, the sound of his even breathing in your ear.

More or less settled, you pull back slightly to look around.  Your eyes go to Clint, who smiles widely and waves when he sees you.  “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yes,” you mutter, and you’re about to add something else when Steve steps around the front of the jet and into the deepening sunlight, and the words fly out of your mind.

The red light from the setting sun bathes Steve in a coppery glow and has turned his hair almost crimson.  You blink and stare – it’s just a trick of the light, you know this – but you could swear you just saw blood matting his hair.

Oh for fuck’s sake, get a grip on yourself…there’s no way…no…way…

You blink again, and the air in your lungs thickens into cement as the world reverses its customary course around the sun and flings you violently back into that hated dining room. The frigid winter air is traded for the suffocating heat radiating from the fireplace as the cruel sound of the Krakkens’ laughter echoes hollowly and endlessly in your ears.

You stare at Steve’s head - first on his shoulders, then on the silver plate in front of you, now on the floor.  You can vaguely hear your name spoken by concerned voices from a distance, but how are you supposed to tear your gaze away from the vivid nightmare etched into your memories?  It doesn’t matter if you close your eyes – the view is still the same.

Until, mercifully, it’s not.

Maybe it’s the sound of Tony’s voice yelling as he runs across the makeshift airfield to you, “Get out of the sun, Rogers!  Move your ass out of the sun!”

Maybe it’s the sorrowful understanding in Bucky’s wide eyes as he steps in front of you, eclipsing the view that triggered a horror and grief so deep you can still taste its bitterness at the back of your throat.

Maybe it’s the sudden movements from people you are only just now aware of – Clint, Nat, Sam, and even Galina – their actions defensive and alert against a threat they can’t see because it’s only in your mind.

Either way, the vision finally fades and gives way to reality; when he steps into the shadow of the jet to approach you, he’s just Steve again, alive and whole and looking worried as hell.

You can’t keep your eyes from darting back to his neck.  “You were dead.”  The thick voice doesn’t sound like yours, but no one else had his head fall to the ground at their feet, so it must have been you that spoke.  Reality solidifies itself further when his head stays firmly attached to the rest of him, and suddenly you’re very aware of all the eyes on you.  Intensely uncomfortable with the scrutiny, the heat rushes to your face.  “Oh my God.  Um. I’m sorry.  I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

Steve watches with a guilty expression as Tony finally reaches you and puts a comforting arm around your shoulders; the twitchiness you felt during breakfast returns immediately. “Kiddo, you’re the last one that should be apologizing.  Besides, it isn’t like all of us haven’t had the same thing happen at some point.”

A strained smile graces your features as you try to subtly shrug out from under his arm while simultaneously and not entirely successfully holding back your sudden tears.  Words won’t come out because your throat insists that any sound will be accompanied by a sob, so you merely nod.  

“Let’s get you on the jet,” Bucky murmurs, reaching to pick you up.

Shaking your head, you take an awkward step back and try to form words that won’t sound like you’re choking or crying.  “No.  I can walk,” you finally manage.  The idea of being carried and it being so obvious to everyone how helpless you are absolutely mortifies you.  You know you’re being ridiculous – you’re surrounded by the last people on earth that would judge you – but you can’t help it. So you turn, pulling your arm from Bucky’s light touch when he attempts to steady you.  He does a good job of hiding the hurt in his eyes, but you still see it.  It makes you hate yourself for being the one to put it there, for being so goddamn irrational.

It’s only a few paces to the metal steps to the plane, and the handrails on either side of you make for relatively steady if not slow progess.  Bucky walks behind you, careful not to touch you but close enough to catch you should you stumble.  It takes a lot out of you physically by the time you finally reach the top, and even more out of you mentally when you realize how much this mirrors your trip here. You could barely climb the steps then but did it out of some deep-seated stubbornness and spite that the poison in your veins hadn’t managed to subdue.  And now here you are, except this time the poison is in your mind.  The irony isn’t lost on you, not one bit.

“Oh thank God,” you mumble as you step through the threshold. Yes, it’s a jet, but the inside looks nothing like the one you’d been forced to take here.  That’s something, at least.  It mirrors Tony’s tastes impeccably – stylish and modern in appearance, but also comfortable and user friendly despite the extravagant luxury.  And good grief, it even smells expensive.  

It only takes a second or two for you to assess your surroundings and to awkwardly begin limping your way to the very back of the jet.  It looks like there are lots of little coves and nooks set up within the cabin, and you’re extraordinarily grateful for that.  Right now, you crave solitude and privacy.

The small area you choose would be enough to hold two, maybe three people comfortably.  The partitions separating the seating areas aren’t thick and there are no doors, so there’s nothing to stop sound from carrying, but at least you feel protected from everyone’s concerned gazes.  There’s what would pass as a chair and a half – not quite as big as a loveseat but more than big enough to accommodate your form if you curl up – and a smaller but equally plush chair placed opposite and slightly to the left.  Choosing the bigger of the two, you remove your coat and use it as a makeshift blanket as you arrange yourself to lie curled up on your side with your injured thigh facing up.  You face the back of the chair, hoping that anyone that happens to walk by will take the hint and leave you the fuck alone.

Your plan works, at least for now.  Unfortunately, you can’t figure out if this makes you happy or sad.  What the hell do you feel?  You feel guilt at your last moments with Bucky – who you happen to know is just on the other side of the partition from you, listening carefully for any indication that you need or want him – but what do you say to him?  Gee, Buck, I’m sorry I’m such a fucking train wreck right now.  I’d love to talk about my feelings but I have no fucking idea how to explain them, hell, I can’t even put words to them in my own brain.

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

What do you want? Figure that out first.  You want Bucky.  Full stop.  It’s why you said what you said when you first found out that he was himself and not the Soldier, and your words of reassurance last night.  That hasn’t changed, not one bit.  So why isn’t he here right now?  Because you more or less pushed him away.  Still, he’s just inches away, patiently waiting for you.  So what’s the problem?

Shame. Twitchiness.  Pain.  Loneliness. Anxiety.  An overwhelming sense of unworthiness at what he had to do for you, sacrifice for you, in order to save you.  Anger.  Loathing for those monsters that hurt Bucky and took you away from your children.  Hopelessness.  A paralyzing fear that you’ll never be yourself again, even though you’re sure you were pretty close to normal less than an hour ago when you were driving around with Bucky.

And then there’s the suffocating yet disconnected understanding of just how utterly broken you are.

The tears are hot on your cheeks but you just wipe them away with your sleeve and try to keep quiet. You can hear and feel Bucky shifting restlessly because of course he can hear you with that damned supersoldier hearing, but he respects your unspoken request for space.

But it isn’t space that you crave, not really.  What you really want is to be okay.

Footsteps head your way until you hear a hushed conversation.  If you tried you could probably make out what they’re saying, but you can’t bring yourself to care.  At least, not until a dark head pokes around the edge of the partition.

“Hey, Kiddo.”  Tony waits patiently until you dejectedly turn your head look at him.  “I’ll leave you alone in a minute, but I wanted to let you know that we’re taking off soon.”

“Okay.  Thank you.”  No point in being rude.

Tony sighs quietly – surprisingly, there’s no trace of exasperation, just a sort of sad acceptance. “You’re gonna have to sit up and buckle yourself in for the takeoff, Kiddo.”

Oh.  Right.

As you slowly pull yourself up, Tony removes your coat and tosses it on the seat across from you.  It occurs to you to be indignant, but then he makes a big show out of unfolding a thick, dark blue blanket.  

“This will keep you warmer than that jacket.  The seatbelts are tucked into the seats – you just have to dig a little for them.” He’s uncharacteristically subdued, and your shoulders slump a little with the weight of knowing that it’s probably your fault he’s acting like this.

He watches to make sure you get buckled in properly but doesn’t reach to do it for you.  You appreciate that.  Then the ache in your heart eases slightly when he bends to drop an almost fatherly kiss to the top of your head before resting his steady hand on your shoulder.  “Do you want something for the pain?”

“No!  No…no thank you.”  If you answer too quickly, he doesn’t let on that he notices - but of course he probably does.  Tony is more observant and has way more empathy than people give him credit for.

He nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You don’t speak until he’s almost blocked from view by the partition, and then the words are out of your mouth before you realize you were even thinking them.  “How did you know what I was seeing?”

Tony takes a step back, swallowing hard before his watery eyes meet your own, and you realize that maybe it isn’t your current behavior that has him acting so…not Tony Stark.  “The look on your face - I’ve seen that look before.  I was, uh, watching through their security cameras when those bastards pulled that bullshit stunt on you.”  He swallows hard again.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.  So when I looked around to find out what triggered you, I put the pieces together when I saw how red Steve looked in the light.”

Shame comes crashing down on you like a piano in an old Looney Toons cartoon.  You’d been so wrapped up in your own battling emotions that you hadn’t taken the time to see how you and Bucky aren’t the only ones permanently scarred from your ordeal; some of the others are dealing with the things they had to do to get you back.  You’d noticed the heavy, haunted guilt in Bucky’s eyes when he thinks you aren’t looking, but that same look was in Steve’s eyes after you had your episode outside the jet.  And now Tony – now that you’re looking for it, it’s impossible to miss.  You mentally run through the laundry list of what Tony has possibly felt over these past few weeks; helpless, frustrated, powerless, inadequate.  A sense of failure because he considered himself responsible for your safety. “Well, um, thank you.”  What else can you say?  You already know from your own current experience that words don’t really help.

Tony shakes his head with a fair amount of self-disgust.  “Don’t thank me, Kiddo.  It’s my fault you were there in the first place.”  He leaves before you have a chance to respond, to tell him that it isn’t his fault and that you don’t blame him for anything.

You cover your face with your hands as you shake your head.  One would think that this moment should feel like a victory – you and your friends made it out alive and you’re going home – but it just doesn’t.  It almost feels hollow.  Or maybe it’s just you that’s hollow.

***

Footsteps and a quiet conversation pulls you out of yourself.  Steve is saying something about eating and cruising altitude or something like that, but there isn’t an ounce of you that cares.  You’ve been numbly staring at a point on the wall in front of you for – how long, maybe 20 minutes? – and you just now realize you’ve been staring at a tv screen.  It’s been…fuck, it’s been weeks since you’ve watched tv.  They didn’t see fit to give you one in that prison disguised as a fucking ugly bedroom; they wouldn’t even give you a radio because they preferred for you to spend your days in silence.  The sudden desire to watch a movie makes you feel so normal for a second that you start to cry.

“Sweetheart?”  Bucky’s voice, soft and hesitant, makes you wipe your tears and look to him.  He’s standing on your side of the partition but seems reluctant to come closer.  

It hurts, fuck it hurts to see how you’re impacting him, and your face crumples.  “Bucky, I…I’m so sorry, Bucky.”  

He knows you, knows you inside and out, and he takes your words for the implicit invitation they are. Bucky puts down whatever he was holding and squeezes himself into the chair with you.  “Hey, hey, no Sweetheart, no,” he murmurs as he holds you close and strokes your hair.  “You don’t have to be sorry, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

It feels like a superhuman effort, but you manage to reign in your tears after just a few moments; you’re not quite ready to fully let go.  “But I –“

“Sweetheart, listen to me. You just went through a major trauma.” He cradles your face in his hands, grazing his thumbs over your tearstained cheeks, and like always the contrasting touches of warm and cool grounds you.  “What you’re feeling right now – all those overwhelming and conflicting emotions and thoughts, the mood swings, wanting to push people away but then craving contact, the incredible want to lash out at anyone and anything, even what you saw outside – those are all perfectly normal reactions.”

Unsteady breath in, shaky breath out.  “I know.” Of course you know, you were – are, dammit, not were, are – a psychology student, for fuck’s sake.  You recognize what’s going on but that makes it even worse because it feels like you should be able to stop it.

“I know you know, Sweetheart.”  And of course he does; he’d occasionally helped you study back at the safehouse.  Besides, Tony was right – like everyone else on the jet, he’s been through it.  Bucky gives you a sad smile as he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.  “I hate to break it to you, but that isn’t going to be much help right now.”

A tearful laugh bubbles out of you.  “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

“Hey,” Bucky waits to speak again until your eyes meet his, “It’s gonna be okay – you’re gonna be okay.  We’re gonna get to New York, we’re gonna get your leg fixed, and then we’re gonna get you some help to deal with this.  You’re not going through this alone, okay?  I’ll be with you every step of the way.”  He stares at you intently before speaking again, “And no matter what, you need to know that there’s nothing you can do or say that will scare me away.  You might have some rough days ahead – the first few therapy sessions are a real bitch, let me tell you – but no matter what happens, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You can’t help but look away in shame when you hoarsely whisper, “But I’m so broken.”  

“Sweetheart,” he admonishes softly, “we’ve both been at least a little broken since the day we met. Our pieces have always fit together just fine.”

You nod at the truth of his words as you sniffle, and then reluctantly pull out of his grasp to blow your nose.  “How are you so steady right now?”

Bucky practically snorts as he shakes his head.  “I’m not, not really.  I’m constantly fighting every instinct I have to protect you to the point of smothering you, and I start to have a panic attack if I can’t see, feel, or hear you for more than a minute or two.  I, uh, I have to do breathing exercises when one of us goes to the bathroom.  Showering yesterday just about killed me.”

“Seriously?”

He nods sheepishly.  “The only differences between us are that I had years of forced training on controlling my emotions and actions, and that I have already gone through intensive therapy for severe PTSD.  I’ve already started working my program again and that’s what’s holding me over until I can get to my therapist.”

You allow his words to sink in as you take a deep breath.  He’s been through this – he’s been through far worse and survived traumas that lasted much, much longer – and he came out the other side as the man you fell completely, totally in love with.  The flare of hope that makes its way into your heart adds itself to your already impossibly confusing maelstrom of emotions.

“Sweetheart – I know it’s hard, I do, but where you’re at is where you’re at.  I’ll always find you, and I’ll meet you there.”  He waits for your nod, and continues, “It doesn’t scare me. You don’t scare me.  I know it might not feel like it, but the worst is over.  You’re strong, Sweetheart, so incredibly strong.  You’re gonna find your way out of this.”

You nod again, more sure this time.  “I trust you, Bucky.”

His lips turn up into the graceful, easy smile you’d missed so much.  He doesn’t bother hiding the thread of pride when he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs, “I know you do.”  

When Bucky presses his lips to yours, the world shifts a little and things suddenly don’t seem quite so bleak.  It somehow feels like everything is going to be okay, even if it takes some time to get there.  You aren’t naive enough to believe that things will stay this way; now that some of the anguish has cleared it’s easier for you to apply your learning to your own situation and recognize that this shift, although welcome, is likely temporary. The pendulum will swing the other way again, but if you can start a program with a competent therapist the swings will become less drastic.  Eventually you’ll reach a balance.  You can come back from this.  Eventually.

Optimism, no matter how fragile, for the win.

“There she is.”  A smile somehow finds its way to your face as he continues, “I told you I’d find you.”

“You’re such a putz,” you huff, knowing he hears the affection in your voice, and as his gentle laughter joins yours he reaches across to the other seat.

“Steve brought us something to eat.”  Bucky presses one of the two dishes covered with plastic wrap into your hands.  “We only have a microwave so it’s just Easy Mac and –“

“Chicken nuggets!” You all but tear the wrap off. Not only has your conversation with Bucky revived your appetite, but you sorely missed this kind of food.  Too much of what you‘d been served during your imprisonment either wasn’t to your liking or was almost nauseatingly repetitive. As such, soggy microwaved chicken nuggets are a luxury, one you promise yourself to never again take for granted.

“I’m glad I don’t have to persuade you to eat.”  He looks genuinely relieved as he shifts his ginormous frame in the chair to start digging into his own food.  It’s a tight fit, but neither of you are willing to move.

“Bucky,” you pick up a nugget and take a slow bite, not minding the slight rubbery texture in the least.  “I haven’t had a chicken nugget in weeks. It was mostly stewed meat with a fifty percent chance of being ruined with mushrooms, some form of potato, and sour cream.  I probably would have gone hungry if it wasn’t for Mikhail bringing me pastries almost every night.”

Mikhail.

Back swings the pendulum.

“Um, speaking of Mikhail…” Bucky pauses as he takes your hand in his, “I have something for you, a letter he wrote when he started working with us.  I promised to give to you if he didn’t make it.”  The pain is evident on his face, and you can’t help but wonder if Mikhail somehow managed to burrow into Bucky’s heart just like he did yours.  “It’s in my bag with the rest of our cargo so I can’t get it right now, but as soon as we land I can pull it out.”

Your head is shaking and your eyes fill with tears before he finishes speaking.  “I can’t…I’m not…I…”

“When you’re ready,” he murmurs.  “I’ll hold onto it until you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” Desperate for a distraction to keep you from losing the progress you’ve made in the department of not being a complete wreck, your eyes dart around until they land on the tv.  “Can we watch a movie or something?”

“Absolutely.  FRIDAY, please show any Disney animated movie except Snow White and Pinocchio.”  

Honestly, this man is too good to be true.

“Yes, Sargent Barnes.” The tv lights up and just a few moments later the opening for the Emperor’s New Groove starts playing.  “I hope you don’t mind – I took the liberty of downloading your preferences from SUNDAY.”

“That’s perfect FRIDAY, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“I never thought I’d get used to and actually miss an AI presence, but here we are,” you mutter.

Bucky puts his arm around your shoulders as he snickers.  “I’m right there with you, Sweetheart.”  

He waits until you finish eating before he cocoons you both into the blanket, content to watch your favorite movies until the jet lands safely in New York.

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