#forcing me who has not had breakfast yet to starve

[sadtrash-masculine]

as one can tell by the slanted hips and the single hidden paw this lady is not planning to move for the forseeable future and because of that her walker (me) is also not moving for the forseeable future

we have a backyard where she can lay in the sun, why does she do this to me

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 5: Eriadu

A/N: It’s taken me ages to post another chapter. Life has been hectic but I have finally finished my last assignment until September so YAY!

Warnings: Canon events (but not that canon event), canon fighting, and the absolute glossing over of Saw and his antics. Mentions of death, injuries, feelings.

Word Count: 5.3k

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Masterlist

Tech’s eyes devoured the hologram of Eriadu. Echo’s contact had come through with the ground schematics, outlining the base and surrounding area. His mind was swirling. Every possible option and outcome played like a movie in his head as he worked out the best place to land. It had to be far enough from the base so they weren’t seen, but close enough for a swift extraction. He didn’t want to admit this plan had flaws, but that was the risk, was it not? Every operation had the potential to go horribly wrong, yet the squad had always managed to pull through.

“You need to rest at some point,” Hunter spoke from the shadows of the bunk, his voice still rough from waking up.

“I find it more relaxing to familiarise myself with the planet we are about to land on, than I do in sleeping.” He thought about things his brothers didn’t, like predatory fauna or possible toxic flora. He wanted to know how many patrols there were, how often they moved, how they got about the jungle…

“Tech.” Hunter used his warning tone, the suggestion to get some sleep was actually a non-negotiable order.

“I will achieve some sleep before we begin the approach to Eriadu.” Hunter huffed in resignation, sitting up on the bunk and running a hand through his hair.

“The others?”

“Omega is asleep in her room, Echo and Wrecker are in the cockpit.” Tech heard Hunter move, applying his plates of armour and slipping the bandana back into place before standing behind Tech’s chair.

“How does it look?”

“Doable,” Tech responded quickly. “However, we should be prepared for all eventualities.”

“Are you…ready?” Tech fought the urge to sigh. He knew what Hunter was asking, his head had never been more invested in a mission before even if Crosshair was the only beneficial outcome. Because he had spent hours facing that fact.

The door to the cockpit opened and the glow of hyperspace flooded the hold followed by Echo and Wrecker. A ration box was forced into Tech’s line of sight causing him to sit back in his chair, levelling a passive glare at Wrecker.

“Not hungry?” The larger clone growled in surprise. “I’m starving.”

“Luckily we brought fresh supplies from Pabu,” Hunter said, gently patting Tech’s spaulder.

Echo scoffed and crossed his arms. “More like, we’ll be lucky to see any of it.”

“Hey! I haven’t eaten that much,” Wrecker protested loudly, awarding him a rough nudge from Echo who nodded to the closed curtain across the gunner pit. “Oops.” He whispered, wincing when they Omega yawn.

She moved the curtain across, a sleepy smile growing on her face as she looked at her brothers. “Breakfast?” She asked hopefully, noticing the food in Wrecker’s hand.

“Ah yeah. Here ya go, kid.” She stepped down, cradling Lula with one arm. Hunter stepped forward to help her onto the bunk and Wrecker sat beside her, offering the rations. They both chewed in silence, eyes automatically drawn to the screen where Tech was looking at the area around Tarkin’s compound.

Echo stood beside him, eyes tracking over the screen, a soft sigh expelling from him. “It looks simple enough. A quick covert mission in and out,” he muttered mostly to himself.

“I can’t wait to see Crosshair and Stitch again,” Omega piped up. She sounded so hopeful, it made Tech’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

“They’re not there,” Hunter reminded her.

“I know. I’m just looking forward to all the good things that will come from this.”

Wrecker bumped Omega’s arm gently, a smile on his face. “Yeah, will be good to finally have everyone back together.” Tech caught Hunter swapping a look with Echo and he tried to keep his mouth sealed, he tried not to say what was on his mind but…he had to voice it.

“This endeavour might not lead us to Stitch at all,” Tech announced matter of factly from where he was sitting, making everyone spin round to face him. He turned to see he had all their attention. So he continued. “Hemlock will most likely lead us to Crosshair as he is a clone and therefore, what Hemlock is apparently after. Stitch is an untrained force user and possibly has been sent…elsewhere.” He rose, picking up his datapad. He had said it now. The exhaustion of such a realisation threatened to press on his shoulders.

“Come on, Tech,” Wrecker broke the silence. “It’s like you think this won’t be easy.”

“It will not be easy,” Tech countered quickly, fingers gripping his datapad. “There is nothing to indicate Hemlock even has Stitch.” The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, heavy and true. He looked at all of his brothers, not risking looking at Omega. Wrecker stood to his full height, Hunter adjusting his position subtly and Omega glanced worryingly between them.

“It’s like you don’t want Hemlock to have her,” Wrecker shot at Tech, who gave the barest flinch at the words. “It’s like you don’t even miss her.”

Something flushed through Tech’s body, a feeling so intense he couldn’t face it directly.

“You are correct. I do not wish for Hemlock to have her.” His voice was steady, but he was collapsing inside. He had tried not to spare a thought for what Hemlock did in his secret laboratory, choosing not tell the others what he found.

Closing off from it was the best option, detaching from such a mind altering sensation could only help him keep his head clear. His expression went blank and he blinked once, adjusting his goggles while he tried to think of something else to say that wouldn’t let that feeling in. But there was nothing. The loss of you and the realisation that someone far more powerful and dangerous, might have you instead would break everyone apart. You were so beyond his reach…

Tech felt someone come up to his side, gently taking his limp fingers in theirs. He allowed it, for a moment, before turning on his heel and closing the cockpit door firmly behind him.

Omega immediately turned to Wrecker and scowled. “You know he misses her! Just because he doesn’t voice it, doesn’t mean he’s not feeling it!”

“Ow!” Wrecker’s huge hands covered his head and his expression fell into sadness. “I know,” he mumbled. “Now I feel even worse.” Hunter clapped a comforting hand on his larger brother’s shoulder, making eye contact with Echo who nodded and headed for the cockpit. He paused, taking a breath. Tech needed time on his own but knowing they were approaching Eriadu and into an almost blind mission...

Echo opened the door and closed it behind him, fully prepared for Tech to give some scathing retort or even the silent treatment.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was seeing your face in a hologram.

Tech sat in the pilot’s chair, a scene played from the mini holo on his gauntlet. You were dancing with Omega, happy and laughing. For a moment you looked up in Tech’s direction and gave him a soft smile. Even in the hologram, Echo could see the feelings you had held for Tech then. Hell, they’d all seen it months before Tech did.

Easing himself into the copilot chair, he continued to watch the scene play out, the blue glow reflecting in Tech’s goggles. “I miss her too.” Tech didn’t respond, so Echo leaned back in the chair to face the rush of light as they cut their way through the Galaxy. “I never told her what she did for me…how she made me more accepting of myself.” He sighed, frustrated he couldn’t convey exactly what was on his mind but he so desperately wanted to talk about you.

“She was a bright light in the dark. Steadfast, hard working, knowledgeable. Selfless.” Emotion threatened to choke off Echo’s words but he forced himself to continue. “She knew what I was feeling before I knew what I was feeling. She was always there with the right thing to say, a brief touch of her hand would lessen the load, fight the weariness…she talked to our brothers like she had been raised with them.” He paused, lost in the memory of you talking with Rex and Gregor, smiling and joking like you all weren’t in the middle of hostile territory.

Even living on Coruscant for a time, right under the nose of the enemy, and you still managed to bring a sense of calm, taking such a situation in your stride and fighting like a true soldier.

“I admire her. She understands what…what haunts me in the darkest hours. To be held captive, used against your will and harmed beyond recognition.” Echo swung his gaze to Tech, finding the other clone was already looking at him. “You said she could be somewhere else because she’s a force user?”

“Yes,” Tech murmured an affirmative. “It seems logical. She is not a clone, she has nothing that would interest him. The Empire wanted her. Not Hemlock.” Echo pressed his back teeth together at the sight of Tech’s shoulders slumping. How long had his brother carried the weight of this realisation before saying it now?

“We won’t stop,” Echo promised. Tech said nothing else. He pressed a button on his vambrace and another hologram began to play. Echo let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

Echo had found solitude to be the worst feeling he’d ever encountered after he had been rescued. Tech had been there from the beginning, teaching him about his new limbs, enhancing them and fixing them when needed. The whole Batch had pieced Echo back together, now he resolved to try and do the same for Tech.

It wasn’t the same sort of loss, but he wasn’t going to leave his brother to suffer alone. So he settled down, hoping his presence was enough to lessen the agony Tech must be internalising.

After a while, Echo noticed Tech had fallen asleep in his chair. The hologram played on a continual loop showing your smile, your eyes, your expression softening as you looked at Tech.

Echo hoped you were safe and unbroken, wherever you were. A fierce protective loyalty rose in his chest like a brand. The idea of anyone reducing you back to that nervous woman, they found in the slavers compound, had him wanting to rip the Empire apart with more venom than he already did.

Echo eyed the scan of the Eriadu on the console. He liked to go over the details as many times as possible before a mission like this. “I have identified a suitable location to land outside their sensor range.” Tech informed him. Everyone was in the cockpit after a few hours of rest and some food. Tech had thrown himself into readying them all on the approach to the planet, ready to drop them out of hyperspace.

Hunter frowned at the image. “How are we bypassing those cruisers?”

“Using a clearance code Rex and I acquired from one of our contacts,” Echo explained.

“Good to have you back, Echo. Just like old times,” Wrecker told Omega with a smile.

The ship dropped out of hyperspace, revealing the cloudy grey surface of Eriadu and the three Venators orbiting the planet. Hunter told Wrecker to man the tail gun, refusing to leave them completely defenceless if anything went wrong.

“Transmitting clearance codes now,” Echo reported.

“If this doesn’t work,” Hunter lowered his voice and leaned on Echo’s chair. “Be ready to fly out of here.” No one said anything as the transmission sent. Tech and Echo seemed the most relaxed, which Hunter noticed. He tried to draw on that, to lean into their complete surety, but so much was riding on this moment he could barely breathe.

The com beeped and Tech’s fingers tightened on the flight controls. “Vessel 1143, you are clear for approach.”

Hunter let out a controlled breath and glanced at Omega who was smiling. Echo nodded, his trust in this contact clearly unshakable and Tech easily guided them through the atmosphere to the landing site he had already deemed appropriate.

The cloud cover was thick, jagged edges of rock stabbed upwards into the sky but Tech manoeuvred them with ease. The landing gear took the weight of the ship and Tech powered it down. First mark made.

“Let’s gear up,” Hunter ordered. They needed to move quickly and quietly. The longer they were here, the more chance they had of being discovered.

Echo left the ship first, blaster already drawn. “Let’s make this quick,” he ordered, voicing Hunter’s thoughts. “Before they realise we didn’t land at the base.”

Under the cloud cover, the air was clear. Hunter took the lead through the trees, his senses on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. Tech followed with Omega who started to talk in a hushed tone. “What sort of approach are we making?” She asked eagerly. “A side-wind breach?” Tech looked at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners to show he was smiling under his helmet. He came to a stop with Echo. “It worked on Raxus.”

“It won’t work here,” Echo countered. “The Empire’s protocols have changed since then.

Wrecker scoffed. “Thanks to us.”

“No tanks and no explosives this time, Wrecker,” he warned firmly, stalking after Hunter. The larger clone groaned, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to blow up something. He knew this wasn’t the mission for it, stealth and surprise were their allies right now.

They approached a clearing. Hunter ordered them silently to a stop, dropping to his knee as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A large motion sensor hummed continuously before them and beyond that was a tall strut for the skyrail cars that whipped rapidly down the rail. Using his binocs, Hunter surveyed the mountain.

“Hmm. The compound is heavily fortified.”

“But there’s a weak point in the rail line that we can exploit,” Echo pointed out. “We’ll sneak past the sensor and hitch a ride under one of the cars.”

“You mean, hang? Over that?” Hunter tilted his head towards Omega, a slight grin she couldn’t see moved his mouth. He wanted to point out all the times he’d caught her suspended from somewhere she shouldn’t be, that she chooses to get anxious over this one. Although…he could see why. You couldn’t see the bottom of the ravine and sometimes the unknown liked to play on fears.

“Well, it’s the only way to access the compound unnoticed,” Echo told her.

Hunter knew they had to act quickly. “Tech, disable the sensor.”

“That would trigger an alert,” Tech instantly responded, having already scanned the device. “I can temporarily disrupt that feed, but I estimate only 30 seconds for us to clear the zone before it reactivates. We must be precise,” he stressed. They all turned as one to look at Wrecker crouched behind them.

“What?! I can handle it!” He spluttered. He hated heights, they made him feel queasy, his eyes swam and everything went out of focus. But he’d do this. For Crosshair, for you, for his brothers.

Echo handed Tech back his blaster after fitting the grapple mod. Hunter raised his binocs, watching the sensor cycle through. They had done this so many times no words were needed. The blood roared in Hunter’s ears. With a mission like this it was action after action, and he had the whole team to worry about.

He watched the sensor, counting the seconds as the lights filtered round the device. His hand lifted and Tech tensed beside him. Hunter held his breath…waiting…then his hand dropped. He’d never admit it out loud, but his heart was in his throat as he watched his brother hanging off that sensor. Well, he supposed Omega had to get it from somewhere. He kept watching through the binocs, making sure Tech had cleared the lip of the sensor before he offered his blaster to Echo for the grapple mod.

“Stand by.” Tech told them over the com.

An awareness skated up Hunter’s spine followed by the low rumble and whine of the skyrail. Their ride was coming in fast. “Another railcar is approaching. Are we set?” He demanded of Tech.

“Not…yet.” Hunter’s jaw flexed under his helmet. This could be too close but it was their only chance. To his relief, the tingling along his arms faded as the sensor powered down. “The sensor is down. Move in!”

He didn’t have time to check on Omega, or Wrecker, even Echo. He had to trust them, to know they were just behind him no matter what. He counted the thuds as each magnetic grapple sealed onto the speeding railcar.

One…two, three, four…then the fifth one on the other side as Tech joined them. The lines reeled them all in and Hunter left out a slightly shaky exhale as he checked on his brothers and Omega. They’d made the second mark, now it was onto the third.

They hunkered down against the hull of the railcar and the rushing wind. Raven’s Peak stood tall and proud against sky, growing closer and closer with each rushing second.

“Halfway there,” Echo announced to them all.

Wrecker chuckled. “This isn’t so bad.” Hunter spared his burly brother a glance, letting an amused smirk turn up the corner of his mouth when Wrecker looked down and groaned loudly. “Never mind.”

The railcar began to slow and Hunter had already noticed the trooper near the entrance. He didn’t think, he just acted. Dropping away from the railcar and launching himself at the white armoured soldier. The katarn knuckle plate cracked satisfyingly across the sentry’s helmet before he could even lift his blaster. Swiftly followed by a knee to the gut and an elbow jab in the face that disorientated him so much, he toppled easily over the railing.

There was no time to think about what he’d done. During the war it had been droids he dismantled, they required no mourning and did not leave heavy weights on his soul. But this was about survival and it was kill, or be killed.

A blaster bolt zipped past Hunter’s shoulder to take out the other guard further down the walkway. A well placed shot from Echo while him and Wrecker sandwiched Omega between them. Tech dropped off the back of the railcar and took the rear position. The squad pressed themselves against the wall just as the door opened and amother sentry stepped outside. Hunter shot this time, right in the chest, the momentum of the shot taking the soldier over the railing to join his comrade.

With a nod, Hunter stepped inside, covering the others as they filed in until the door sealed shut behind them.

The hangar wasn’t hard to find and troopers were unaware of their skulking around. For now, anyway. The squad gathered around Hunter, ducking down in the shadows as he surveyed the ships standing motionless in the hangar. They were all Rho-class shuttles with no discernible markings. He grimaced, gone were the days of individuality. The troopers may all be different under the helmets but the Empire went to great lengths to keep everything bland and uniform.

“Which ship is Hemlock’s?” Omega whispered.

“We need to access the hangar manifest from the control room,” Echo told her.

“Tech, Echo, with me. You two,” Hunter turned his helmet to Wrecker. “Plant the homing beacon.” He didn’t wait for confirmation, he didn’t have to. Hunter covered Tech and Echo as they took the ladder up to the next floor. A few simple turns and they were there, the door of the control slide open and Hunter stunned one of the technicians as Echo took down the second.

Echo holstered his blaster. “I’ll monitor their security channels.” Hunter heaved the stunned technician out of the way so Tech could have access to the console. He hadn’t even dropped the guys legs before Tech was relaying what he’d found.

Wrecker watched his surroundings warily. The receptors in his helmet could pick up a trooper’s footfalls or the rolling of a droid as it trundled past. He cast a quick glance at Omega, taking in the fierce look of determination on her face while she waited patiently for intel from the others.

“Found it. Hemlock’s shuttle is at docking lane four.”

“Copy that,” Omega responded quietly. Lifting her binocs to focus on the ship in lane four. “That’s Hemlock’s ship.” The pair of them watched some troopers with a hovercart for a few beats. “It’s too exposed,” she mused with a bite of frustration in her voice. “How are we supposed to get to it?”

“There’s not enough cover for me, but there is for you,” Wrecker pointed out. He didn’t want to send her out there alone…he’d blow this whole place up if he could but that wasn’t the mission. “You think you can handle it?” He could nothing but admire the way she squared up to his words. She was tiny to him, tiny and puny but powerful and robust at the same. He loved her so much, his heart would explode before anything happened to her.

“Not a problem.”

“Hmm, good. Here, take the beacon. I’ll keep an eye out.” He watched from the shadows as she expertly made her way to the floor of the hangar. Wrecker debated staying up top for a vantage point, but he couldn’t stomach being out of reach if she needed a hand. He tried to be quiet, silently cursing his wide feet when they clonked on the alloy cased floor.

Omega was swift and light on her feet, using the hovercart as cover as well as her small size. Wrecker knew he’d never have been able to do that and it would have all ended in a big beautiful explosion.

“Ok, the homing beacon is secure.”

“Wait! There’s more heading your way.” Blasted troopers. They always appeared at stupid times and Wrecker’s heart smashed into his ribs as he watched them patrol past Omega’s hiding place. He lost sight of her, craning his neck while hoping no one could see him peeking from the shadows.

The com beeped and Omega’s scared voice wavered through. “I’m pinned down!” Wrecker’s hand fisted, his fingers digging into the meat of his palm. He didn’t know where the rest were, if he caused a scene now it could leave them trapped deeper in the compound.

“Stay in position,” Echo’s calm voice filled his helmet. “I’ll divert them.” That meant they were still in the control room. Wrecker had no idea what to expect and the magnetic crane coming to life on its own wasn’t something he’d have guessed. The troopers watched as it magnetised one of the smaller ships, only to swing it round and demolish the stack of crates they had been meticulously building.

Wrecker winced at the alarm that sounded, the beeping was loud, ringing in his head but it didn’t distract him from looking for Omega. He found her at the same time as a mouse droid, crushing it beneath his foot. Oh how he missed the satisfying sound of clanker circuits fizzing out.

“Oops.” Some troopers ran past and they took that moment to run back to where they had entered. “Hunter…” Wrecker growled into his com, ducking back behind the crates with Omega as more troopers rushed past.

“We’re coming, with extras.”

“Aww. Leave some for me! Come on kid.” They followed the sounds of blaster fire. Flashes of blue and red lit up the corridor walls, mixing with the purple of Omega’s bow as soon as she activated it.

The squad nearly crashed together, Hunter sidestepping an eager Wrecker. “You got ‘em all?” He asked, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Trust me, more are coming,” Tech said.

“Keep moving!” Hunter reminded them.

“We can use the railcar to get back to the ship,” Echo recited, blaster up, his helmet moving side to side.

“Excellent idea,” Tech agreed. “Shooting the grapple lines at the sensor will work, by the time they have realised we are not in the base anymore, it will be too late to capture us.”

“Let’s go then,” Hunter almost growled, feeling the vibrations of more troopers running in their direction.

More blaster shots were fired. Tech dropped to a knee, firing both his weapons with scary precision as Echo helped Omega down the ladder that would take them back outside. Wrecker chuckled while firing off a few shots, clearly enjoying himself.

They left the upper corridor, Hunter making sure everyone made it down unscathed and into the open railcar doors. He looked expectantly at Tech who stared at the control panel for a second before turning to Echo.

“We need an access code,” he blurted out breathlessly.

“I’ll override it.” Echo twisted his scomp in the socket just as Omega’s bow released a shot and took out a trooper trying to access the railcar. Thankfully none of them made it aboard, and Echo successfully started it up, sailing them away from Raven’s Peak.

They all sighed with relief, Wrecker slumped to the floor of the car while Tech stood by an opening to look outside. Hunter watched the compound shrink into the distance, his hand curling into a fist. He hoped this worked. Otherwise it would all have been for nothing.

“We are approaching our destination,” Tech told them and Echo slowed the railcar down, bringing it to a stop.

“It looks further from here,” Omega spoke quietly, eyeing the distance from the open car doors to the sensor.

“We must, once again be precise,” Tech started. “The grapple must connect to the sensor. I advise, you do not miss.” Wrecker groaned, tapping his helmet as though trying to knock out any bad thoughts he had about falling, out of it. “We have to go together.”

“And soon.” Hunter gestured to the horizon where he could make the shapes of v-wings heading their way.

“That is to be expected,” Tech cast his bright gaze to the ships. “We have less than a minute before they are within firing range.”

The squad raised their grapples. “Be sure of your aim,” Hunter told them all. Out of this entire mission, this was probably the worst moment. One they couldn’t go round. It was their only way out.

“Now!” Tech’s line released first, followed by Hunter and Echo, then Wrecker and Omega. It seemed like forever before the magnets hit their target, and they were going down this time. Hunter felt his heart leap behind his ribs, trying to not panic with the sensation of free falling before his grapple began to pull him towards the sensor. “We must be quick,” Tech stated again. “Or they will follow us to the Marauder.” He landed on the sensor, Hunter close behind him with Echo and Wrecker.

“Hunter!” Omega’s scream came through their coms, making them turn as one. Her grapple wasn’t working, the mechanism had jammed and she was falling.

He’d never felt so helpless in all his life.

He heard her little body collide with the sheer cliff rock. The sound of her pain rippled through him, choked off with a strangled sob as she tried to hide her terror from her brothers.

“Hold on, Omega!” Hunter shouted, jumping from the sensor to the ground and ignoring the complaints from his legs, rolling with the momentum. Tech reacted quickly, pulling the line with Wrecker while Echo also jumped down.

“Just hold on!” He called again, peering over to see her dangling below him. He started to pull the line as well, aware of the sensor humming behind him, the pulse sweeping over him, the sensation making him grind his teeth. His arms pulled, his legs tensed and Echo threw himself onto the ground, his arm outstretched.

“We’ve got you, kid.” The sensor let out a screeching alarm, the v-wings cut through the air towards them but he cared only about getting Omega onto solid ground.

Her tear streaked face appeared, hands paling under the strain of holding on with a death like grip. Wrecker was there, helping to pull her to safety.

“We must leave.” Hunter agreed with Tech. They were all about to be blasted into the ground if they didn’t move.

“Pick her up, let’s move!” Wrecker scooped up Omega just as the first ship started to fire, the bolts kicked up clods of earth and rock, showering the squad in debris.

But they didn’t stop. They didn’t breathe. Using the trees as cover, they ran for the Marauder. Tech opened the ramp, diving inside to get them off the ground.

“My leg,” Omega whimpered when Wrecker went to stand her up.

“Strap in!” Tech warned. “I fear our exit may be rather chaotic.”

“Strap her to the bunk,” Hunter suggested. Wrecker was as gentle as he could be but she still cried out in pain, tears dripped down her cheeks and she swiped at them.

“I—I think I broke it.” Hunter pushed his helmet off, hands searching for the med scanner as the ship lurched into the sky. Wrecker moaned, stumbling into the gunners chair to cover their escape. Hunter activated the scanner, memories of you and Tech in this very position haunted him. It was the first time he’d seen how amazing you were, what you were really capable of. You had saved Tech’s life, saved his brother without a second thought.

The laser beamed over Omega, her jaw square with tension, hands clutching the edge of the bunk as Tech spun the ship, taking a shot to the back end. Hunter planted his feet, using his other hand to hold on and steady himself while Gonky slid along the floor, legs kicking.

“Well?” Omega sighed, her eyes fluttering. “Am I right?”

Hunter frowned. “Omega?”

“She ok?” Wrecker shouted, worry lining his tone.

“Omega!” Hunter shook her shoulder and got no response.

“About to enter hyperspace!” The rushing blue and white lights should have been relief. Hyperspace meant they had escaped, it meant they were safe. All of them except Omega. “How is she?” Tech appeared at Hunter’s side, shifting his goggles nervously.

“Her leg is broken, she must have tried to soften her drop into the cliff face with her legs. I wish Stitch were here.” Hunter usually kept those thoughts to himself, but right now he would fight the entire galaxy to have you on this ship.

Tech tensed, his eyes fixed on Omega as he churned over what to do. “AZI can help. We are not so far from Ord Mantell, and Cid has shown a fondness for Omega in the past.” Hunter’s brow furrowed. It was a good idea, and it wasn’t. “We are not faced with any other choice.” He nodded. Slipping onto the bunk, careful not to jostle Omega. He swiped the bandana off, running his fingers through his hair while his chest expanded with a deep breath. He ached, his body ached and his heart ached.

They would go to Ord Mantell, it was their only option.

“Set the coordinates,” Hunter rasped. Stars, he was tired.

“I am successfully tracking Hemlock’s ship, no movement as of yet.” Tech informed him, pushing buttons on this datapad.

“Keep an eye on it. This could finally be the break we need.” Tech nodded, but didn’t smile. Hunter could read him, the brief curl of his brother’s fingers, the quick blink of his eyes, the shift of his feet…he was worried this wouldn’t lead to you. Tech had voiced that on the way here and Hunter hadn’t listened. “Tech…” their matching gazes met for a moment before Tech focused on something over Hunter’s shoulder. “We will find her.”

“Debatable,” he clipped the word out, gaze drawn back to his datapad. “But I will never give up.”

[sunnynwanda]

The Darkside: Part 4

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

Warning: mentions of physical torture and trauma, a somewhat graphic description of rape in the 2nd chapter, blood, broken bones, healing and aftercare for Villain, revenge, murder & death(s).

Sneaking back into the city wasn’t particularly difficult. Finding their former friends fast asleep in their beds wasn’t hard either. Kidnapping them and hanging them up by their toes in an abandoned building was almost too easy. Making several deliberate cuts and leaving them to bleed out as they beg for mercy was... a delight. The one thing that was actually hard was not letting them die. Not that easy. Not by Hero’s hands.

They smile to themselves as they dismount their motorcycle in front of the cabin. They left their former fellows chained upside down, helpless and slowly bleeding. They wouldn’t die. But they wouldn’t have enough strength to free themselves. Not until Hero returned, anyway. They grab their bag and stride into the cabin, directly to the kitchen. Villain is still asleep, so they make coffee to keep themselves awake and start preparing breakfast.

“You’re back.” The statement catches Hero off-guard. They whip around, smiling at how dishevelled Villain’s hair is. As if noticing their gaze, Villain runs a hand through their untamed curls.

“Morning,” Hero smiles, gesturing for them to sit down. Villain visibly limps, and Hero has to turn away to give them privacy. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“You were gone for a while,” Villain states, their eyes narrow as they watch Hero’s back stiffen. They manage to find a comfortable position before elaborating. “I needed a shower before going to sleep. It took some time. You still weren’t back.”

“The closest town is quite far away,” Hero lies. They can feel Villain’s eyes boring into the back of their skull and turn around, forcing a smile onto their face. “Did you need anything?”

Villain shakes their head, falling into silence as Hero serves breakfast and sits on the opposite side of the table. They can tell something is troubling Villain but avoid pushing by focusing on their food. Villain does the same for a while, partly because they are starving after god knows how many days without a proper meal. 

“I appreciate everything you did for me,” Villain starts out of the blue. They are back in the living room, sitting with their back to the fireplace because their hair is still quite damp. Hero smiles at them from the sofa. “But that doesn’t erase what they did.”

Hero nods once, expecting Villain to continue. They do not, seemingly deep in thought. “Why are you saying that?” The question drags Villain’s attention back to the outer world. They glance at Hero for a moment, examining their countenance before speaking up again. 

“I’m past any reservations, Hero.” Determination is evident on their face, but that wasn’t exactly new to Hero. Villain clears their throat. “You can’t hold me back anymore.”

The wheels in Hero’s brain halt for a second, then start motion in reverse. They shrug. “Who says I want to?”

Villain’s expression is serious yet concerned. They wonder if their nemesis understood at all. “What?”

“I want you to unleash your rage on them,” Hero says matter-of-factly like that doesn’t mean eliminating their entire base and killing their mentor. “And I want to help.”

“Okay...” Villain is still processing the proposition. Since when do you have no problem with homicide? They are about to ask just that when Hero interrupts their deliberation again. The excitement in their voice makes the hair on Villain’s nape stand. 

“So, where do we start?” Hero paces the room before stopping by the window. Villain doesn’t exactly have a plan as of now, but that is the least of their worries, it seems. “Cause I might have done... something.”

They dart across the hall, leaning against the wall as Hero unlocks the metal door. It was only two hours ago that Hero revealed what they had done. Now, they are about to face two of the most respected crime fighters in the city. They walk into a dark cellar, waiting for their nemesis to turn the lights on. The scene that opens before their eyes would be disturbing in other circumstances. Right now, it brings a smile to their face. They watch their captors dangling from the ceiling, blood dripping down their arms and pooling under them. Hero stays behind, watching them approach the heroes, dagger in hand. They crouch down to be face level with them, dragging the blade across one’s cheek. The man whimpers, choking on their own tears. 

“Can’t even bring yourself to beg for mercy, can you?“ Villain asks, turning their attention to the woman that stepped on their throat while Superhero smashed their hand. “You know you don’t deserve it.” 

She lets out a muffled moan, nodding. Villain tilts their head, thinking for a moment. Then they rise, throw a short glance at Hero and release the chains, allowing their prisoners to land on the floor in a pile of twisted limbs. Hero remains silent. 

“I’m not going to kill you. You don’t deserve even that.” They cut the “thank-yous” short, ordering the heroes to shut it. “The only thing I regret is that Hero had to dirty their hands in your rotten blood.”

One of them tries to apologize, to come with an excuse of being forced by their boss, but Hero interrupts, stepping forward. “You will run without a glance back. Cause if you do, I won’t be as kind as Villain. I can promise you that much.” 

Their voice sends a shiver down Villain’s spine. They want to ask how Hero knew taxidermy cuts. Did Superhero teach them? Or perform those on them as punishment? Villain isn’t sure they are ready to learn the answers to the questions circling in their mind. What they are sure of is that no one can survive those cuts, not after bleeding out for so long.  

They reach the headquarters by sunset. Infiltrating the facility takes less than twenty minutes. They locate Superhero in the interrogation room and shut down the lights in the building, locking themselves in. When Hero swings the door open, Superhero doesn’t even turn to face them. It’s only when the door shuts behind Villain’s back that he reacts. 

“Lovely of you to show up,” he smirks at Villain, then turns his attention to Hero with sickening satisfaction in his eyes. “I’m glad you delivered, pet.” 

Villain’s blood freezes in their veins. They stiffen, watching Hero nod, then round the table to stand by Superhero’s side. No. It feels as if boiling water was poured over their head burning them to the bones. Their eyes start to water, and Villain blinks, unable to comprehend what is happening. No.

“What’s the matter, dove?” Superhero tilts his head and barks out a laugh, gesturing towards his apprentice. “Did you think they were helping you for real?

Hero doesn’t meet their eyes. Villain’s breath hitches in their throat, heartbeat frantic. They can feel their blood thumping in their temples. Their vision blurs, and they don’t even know if it’s tears or their body shutting down in shock. The room is spinning. They know they are outnumbered, but they also know they have nothing left to lose. And they won’t go down without a fight. 

“How naive,” the condescending tone awakes something absolutely feral in Villain. Their entire body vibrates with rage. They clench their jaw, pressing their lips together to hide the tremor that runs through them. “That’s what I always liked about you, Villain. You play fair. And I make up my own rules.” 

Villain’s mind is reeling, wailing in their head because they cannot fathom how dumb they were. They shake their head despite the lump in their throat that is threatening to explode into sobs with every passing second. They were so, so stupid to get deceived that easily, to believe the enemy, to trust someone trained by the very person that ruined them.

Hero takes a step back, gesturing for Superhero to proceed. The man smiles, nodding in appreciation. 

“Tell me, Hero, what would you like in reward for such a lovely gift?” He reaches for the handcuffs and licks his lips, a disgusting smile plastered on his face. “A taste of them, maybe? I could let you use them all you want, for torture or pleasure. I’ve had my fun with them.”

Villain growls, low and raving. Hero knows they will not hesitate to kill themselves if in a desperate situation. Villain draws their dagger, ready to fight for life or death. Superhero moves towards them, and that’s when Hero springs into action. Villain barely registers the movement when Hero grabs Superhero by the neck and bends him over the table, banging his head against it several times. They use a combat knife to nail one of Superhero’s hands to the table, cutting through the metal and disregarding the anguished roar from their mentor.

“How about I let Villain do whatever they please to you?” Hero kicks the back of Superhero’s knees, making his legs buckle and smashing his face with a fist until it’s covered in blood, nose fractured in multiple places. 

“What are you doing, pet?” The man wheezes out, struggling to pull himself up. “Have you forgotten which side you belong on?”

“I know perfectly well which side I am on.” Hero restricts his free hand, cuffing it to the table leg. “ It’s you that has lost it.”  

Villain is too dumbfounded to react. They stare with mouth agape, their brain refusing to process what is happening until Hero looks up at them. The expression in their eyes is batshit crazy.

“We’ll talk about the fact that you believed I’d betray you later,” their breathing is laboured as they speak; voice laced with emotions that Villain is unable to discern. “Right now, he is yours.” 

Hero gets off Superhero’s back and walks to stand by the door. Villain is motionless for a long moment before attacking with demented madness. They make cuts, one after another, the same ones Hero used on their coworkers earlier, except deeper and more painful. 

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Villain asks. Superhero snarls, muttering curses under his breath. Villain twists his hair between their fingers, bending his back, causing the handle of the knife in his hand to tear into the flesh. “Like how it feels?”

They circle around the table, bending down to look Superhero in the eyes with chilling calmness. “Should I show you what the rest of what you did to me felt like?” The man laments, trying everything to fight back as Villain drags their gun along his spine. “Let’s see how you like it, huh?”  

Hero steps out of the room. They catch a glimpse of the gun barrel and try not to think what Villain plans to use it for as they shut the door. They can hear the muffled cries and curses as Villain rips him apart for hours. Hero stays by the door for the entirety of it, pacing back and forth in expectation of a gunshot that’s never heard. They dare not open the door until Villain calls on them. It’s past midnight.  

When they walk in, Superhero is still alive and bent over the table; an expression of utter madness stains their face. Hero realizes his hand is no longer pierced by their knife when Villain hands it to them. Hero’s face is stern when they nod in agreement and position themselves behind Superhero. They fist his hair, arching the man’s back and making him face Villain. 

“Get a good look - they are the reason for your demise,” Hero growls into his ear before slashing his throat, cutting it open and watching blood gushing onto the table. They let go when Superhero’s body stops shaking. 

They are seated on a rooftop when Hero presses a button on their phone. Villain is gobsmacked as they watch the headquarters crush down, burying Superhero’s body under tons of concrete and debris. They gaze at Hero with wide eyes, anticipating a grain of regret or sorrow but catch none. All Hero offers them is a small smile of relief. 

Villain did not expect to find a friend in their foe or to become allies with the enemy. They did not anticipate the sudden change in their consistently cheerful and kind nemesis. They couldn’t have imagined how unhinged Hero can get once pushed hard enough. And they certainly wouldn’t have pictured themselves being the reason for that. Yet, when the sun comes up next morning, colouring the sky in hues of warm yellow, they sit on the porch of their cabin with a cup of coffee in hand and a friend by their side, watching the outline of the city on the horizon. A city rid of criminal minds and sadistic saviours. A city now free.

​ Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

Masterlist

Hi, loves!

This ended up pretty long and cruel, I hope you won’t mind either of those. Felt quite new to me as well, especially on this blog. You’ll be deciding what the next story is, so feel free to vote and let me know what you’d like to see. 

And thank you for reading this :) 

P.S. @pigeonwhumps tagging you as promised. 

Love, 

Sunny :)  

[sexysilverstrider]

SGAO | Unrequited Destiny 2

   The sun shined brilliantly above the bright blue skies. People and Pokémon walked about, greeting each other with a sense of familiarity the moment they locked eyes. Some of the older Pokémon lounged about, snoozing away peacefully while the younger ones frolicked in joy with playful human children. The older humans were just as peaceful, minding their own stalls or just enjoying a walk as the cool breeze caressed their aged skin.

   A flock of Starlys chirped as they perched on a roof. Some sang a bit too excitingly, waking people and Pokémon with its ecstatic cries.

   One boy fidgeted in his futon, mumbling incoherent noises as his slumber was quietly being interrupted. The blanket lowered slightly, enabling a warm ray of sunlight that pierced through the window to kiss his squinted eyelids.

   Another grumble. Another mumble.

   Black and purple hair covered most of his face, tickling his nose that made him scrunch woozily. One hand holding the edge of the blanket, he lazily swiped the duo-coloured bangs to the side and nuzzled into the soft pillow. Comfort and warmth pulled his body closer to the futon, and he genuinely considered to sleep a little bit more before starting the day.

   “Kieran, wake up, dear! Breakfast is ready!”

   Alas, the sound of an elderly woman hushed away the final air of his slumber. Though not as loud, it was more than enough to make him stir.

   Slowly, eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of hauntingly beautiful yellow eyes.

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

   “Are you sure you packed everything?”

   Aoi wondered if she might offend him if she rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did.” One hand holding her Rotomphone, she rested her left elbow on the bus’s window sill. Cheek rested on her curled left fingers. Mouth lazily curled a smile at his deep sigh.

   “I’m just afraid you won’t have enough to eat, you know.” Arven spoke from the other side of the screen. Sounds of Mabosstiff’s barking filled the room, somewhat agreeing with his concerns.

   While not an eyeroll, a snort was instead let out. “I can make my own food. Did you forget about that?”

   “The last time you ‘make your own food’,” his fingers made an air-quote, “the ingredients basically exploded and spilled on the floor.” Shivers ran down his spine at the memory. Never in his life had he seen a person fucking up a sandwich so bad. “Do you know how badly I wanted to curl on the ground and cry when I saw that?”

   “You did, though.” A simple reply.

   “And I don’t want to do it again!” A sharp retort.

   How it always amused her to see her dear friend get riled up over the cutest things. Warmth kissed her cheeks, both from the bright heat of Kitakami’s sun and the silly conversation they were having.

   In truth, seeing Arven getting fussy over such a trivial matter was far, far better than being forced to see hope being snuffed out right in his very eyes the second he saw AI Sada leave through the time portal.

   The corner of her mouth twitched just the slightest.

   “In any case,” she sighed, ridding away the bitter memory deep into her brain, “I know how to feed myself. I heard Kitakami has a lot of delicious food so I’m pretty sure I won’t starve for a month.” Her back straightened. One arm stretched to the side. Black eyes, unshielded by her usual sunglasses, twinkled to see him flash a small smile.

   “Promise me you’ll be fine?”

   Her smile froze.

   It was a simple promise. A simple request.

   Yet her heart ached, constricted painfully at the implications of his words. She knew the hidden meaning. She sensed the gloom within.

   Silence lingered for a few heartbeats. Black eyes looked at the screen. At the young man who returned her gaze, solemn, waiting for her answer that impacted him more than she could ever fear.

   Arven had gone through so much. So much.

   The hand that held the Rotomphone squeezed slightly. “I promise,” was all she said, smile tugged upwards, heavily.

   The smile he returned seemed sombre. It hurt her.

   “I’ll miss ya, little buddy.” Arven laughed softly, deep voice ringing on the screen. “Don’t forget to call me every now and then, alright!” His smile was back, wider and brighter.

   It eased some of the pain.

   “Of course.” Her smile grew in sincerity. Left hand was raised, both index and middle fingers positioned close to her winking eye. “I promise to feed myself, bring back some souvenirs, and have a good time!”

   After a few more minutes of casual conversation, they both ended the call. Letting the device zoom back into her backpack, Aoi glanced at the scenery outside.

   Lush green fields filled her vision. Bright blue skies enveloped the world above, accompanied by white clouds that were puffy and soft. Iris twinkled at the sight of Pokémon—both old and new. A part of her couldn’t believe that she got the chance to undergo this field trip. Another part of her somewhat anticipated such luck since the first day she stepped foot in Paldea.

   From receiving a powerful Paradox Pokémon to stopping a literal end of the world, Aoi wondered if fate really had a thing for her.

   Not all were based on luck; she knew that. She worked hard to be where she was. She trained her Pokémon. She studied well. While some say that she was gifted with such battle prowess, Aoi made sure not to let such a thing get into her head. She had her fair share of losses before, usually with Nemona, and even then, she made sure to train and learn so that she could have a fruitful battle.

   Besides, even with her opponents losing, they either thanked her or got excited at the opportunity of battling against her.

   In truth, Aoi found it a bit odd sometimes. She once felt guilty for sweeping a match, but not once had she seen such malice or despair from her opponent. Some even said that they enjoyed battling with her than with Nemona.

   It was a sad blow for Nemona, so Aoi made sure to advise those who said so to give the school president a chance.

   Now, Aoi was considered an unbeatable champion. Even her wins against Nemona herself was faring more than her previous losses. She kept getting stronger. And stronger. And after the whole dire situation in the Zero lab, Aoi made sure to make her team stronger and smarter to prevent any tragedy like that from happening again.

   Now, nothing could stop in her way. She had her team. She had her charm. She had her friends. Whatever she wanted, she ensured hard work would suffice just so she knew she earned the rewards.

   But hey, if fate sometimes fell on her favour, who was she to complain?

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

   In life, fate had a funny way of branching its routes.

   If he woke up just a bit late today, he would’ve missed the last pieces of tamagoyaki. If he didn’t sleep under the blankets last night, he would’ve gotten so much Furret fur when it snuggled close to him. If he didn’t open the bottom drawer by mistake today, he wouldn’t have found his favourite headband.

   If he stepped out of the house a few minutes later, he wouldn’t have been dragged by his sister.

   He was supposed to get ready for the introduction of the program. His sister had been pestering him to hurry up, saying that they needed to be at the gate of the Mossui Town’s entrance to ‘greet’ some people.

   The word ‘greet’ held a bit more poison when it seethed through her lips; Kieran knew Carmine was planning to do the exact opposite.

   In truth, he was hesitant on the program itself. He was a still a first year in school. Why on earth would he participate when they were so many other suitable candidates? Kieran knew it was her doing, encouraging the teachers and recommending him to be part of the one-month long activity. Taking advantage of her bossy nature, she managed to sign him up and be where they were now.

   Well, he wasn’t that regretful. Kieran knew his sister was doing it in his favour too. The excursion was in Kitakami this year, and maybe she figured he would be upset if he didn’t get a chance to come back home and visit their grandparents.

   Carmine was a good sister. Harsh and sometimes cold, but loving nevertheless.

   So here he was. Standing in the land he came to know and love. Here he was. Standing near the Mossui town’s gate, hiding behind his sister as a sense of security. Here he was. Nervously waiting for the students from another school with his sister’s spite clouding above them.

   Here he was. Gasping in silent awe at the very person who took his breath away.

   In life, fate truly had a funny way of branching its routes.

   If he didn’t accept the excursion program—in his own hometown, he might add—he would’ve missed out seeing someone who would soon affect his life more than he could ever imagine.

   There, standing a few steps away in the land of Kitakami, was a mysterious trainer who shined bright like a star that had dropped from the sky. Hair a gloriously deep shade of maroon, Kieran watched as she swiped some strands backwards. The sight made him hitch a breath; cheeks then burned foolishly as he kept his gaze on her. The sight of her tanned skin made his heart race, and the image of her hand casually massaging the side of her sweaty neck made his breath hitch. The glint of her sunglasses shined brilliantly under the warm sunlight, and it took her tilting her head slightly to finally see a pair of sharp eyes.

   Strong. Firm. Confident.

   Beautiful.

   “Whoa…” Awe dripped from his mouth. “Way cool…” Hidden behind his sister, Kieran kept his gaze on the mysterious guest. The hands that gripped the back of Carmine’s school uniform tightened just the slightest—and his grip only stilled when he met the mysterious girl’s gaze.

   It was a shade of black. A beautiful brilliance of black.

   He felt like a fool to flinch back behind his sister.

   “I don’t know who you are but I think you’re in the wrong place.”

   Carmine’s voice, snappy and bitter, pulled Kieran from his short trance. Quickly, he looked at her, haunting yellow eyes blinking in stupor at whatever nonsense she was about to pull.

   And by Arceus, she was tugging.

   “Sorry, but I can’t just let an outside like you wander into Mossui Town.” Her hands raised and waved near her chin. A smile curled on her face; the corners twisted in spiteful twists. Yellow eyes glared at the sudden intruder. The second she heard that there would be students from another school to come to her hometown, Carmine knew she had to sign herself up for the program no matter the cost.

   Like hell she would let anyone walk into her home.

   “Um…” She felt a tug at the back of her jumpsuit. “I don’t think you need to—”

   “Hush, Kiki…!” Carmine snapped back; head turned slightly to glare at him.

   That was enough to silence the poor boy.

   Confused by the cold welcome, a frown tugged Aoi’s mouth.

   “Uh…” Where would she start, honestly? The second they arrived at the bus stop, one of the exchange program students got carsick. Due to the fact that she got an easy access to a ride in a form of a Koraidon, Aoi volunteered to seek help in the nearby village. It took her no less than 5 minutes with her Paradox Pokémon to arrive, and she was very thankful for the villagers’ welcoming behaviour despite being shocked by a sudden majestic Pokémon in their presence.

   Well, all were welcoming—except one.

   The taller girl didn’t move a step. Her stance seemed menacing, and her glare was far more terrifying. Neither a smile nor a greet was present. If looks could kill, Aoi swore she would have been on the ground bleeding by now. Though locks of black and red covered the middle part of her face, a glaring shine of dull yellow pierced right towards her.

   Call her crazy, but Aoi might think that this girl hated her guts.

   Okay, Aoi took a deep breath, let’s try this again. “Hi!” she greeted, one hand waved. “I’m really sorry to barge in like this so suddenly, but I have a classmate who’s sick and—”

   “Don’t care.”

   The hand that waved froze and flinched. Aoi wondered if she heard her wrong.

   “Excuse me—?”

   “Don’t care.”

   Okay, she didn’t hear her wrong.

   Stupefied by the cold demeanour, her hand dropped to the side. “Uh…” Confusion spiralled momentarily, twisting her brain on ideas on how to handle the matter. It wasn’t that Aoi hadn’t faced a rude person before; she still remembered Ortega chastising her the second their eyes met.

   Though in all honesty, Aoi was dismantling his hideout at that time, so it sort of made sense that the younger boy was pissed off at her.  

   And then there were extremely evil people. Those who chose to pursue their dreams in blind greed rather than tend to their own flesh and blood. Those whose dreams became the very danger that could cost the lives of many. Those who blurt out their empty love in a form of artificial intelligence.

   Those. Those were people Aoi perceived as evil.

   Tap, tap.

   The sound of a shoe tapping on the ground snapped her back to reality. Blinking once and twice, the young champion cocked her head forward.

   Rude woman. Right. She guessed it was time to see another new type of person.

   “Look,” she continued, smile curled on her face, “I have a sick classmate. He might die.” The smile eased to a teasing smirk. “I’m sorry for getting in your way, but I really hope you can at least let me get someone to help him and I’ll get out of your hair—”

   “Arceus, are you deaf?”

   Stupor once again held Aoi still.

   Arm crossed on her chest; Carmine tipped her head high. “I said no outsiders allowed.” Firm. Cold. Those were the usual tones she used when she was talking to someone unpleasant. Usually, whoever was talking to her would flinch and end the conversation then and there. The taller girl figured this tactic would succeed again and she could do the excursion program without any hassle.

   Unfortunately, the hassle remained still.

   A deep breath was exhaled. “I’m not deaf.” Aoi smiled again. Patient. Charming. “I’m just…” However, she was never one to be stepped on. “Stubborn.”

   Pink lips pursed to see shock splashed on the tall girl’s face.

   How fucking—Huffing sharply, Carmine clenched her shaking fists. “Who do you think you are?” Voice seething between clenched teeth, she maximized the intensity of her glare.

   Knowing that Aoi had pressed a button, she quickly rethought her next words. As much as this girl was starting to tick her off, she needed to be nice in order to diffuse the situation. “I’m Aoi.”

   Anger had a knack of burning out one’s rationality. And unfortunately for Aoi, her sentence alone—while honest and calm—sounded jeering to Carmine.

   “Well, I’m getting sick of your nonsense!” Seeing red, Carmine unsnapped a Pokéball from her white belt. “If you insist on coming in, you’ll have to battle me first.” The hand that held a Pokéball stretched forward, right towards the baffled Aoi.

   Ah, today was truly a day.

   A whirlpool of emotions swimming in her mind, Aoi finally let out a tired sigh. “I—”

   “C-C’mon Sis… You just wanna battle.”

   Black eyes widened at the sound of a new voice.

   Immediately, Aoi looked at the source, seeing a boy who now stood right beside who she assumed is the sister.

   One hand ruffled through his black and purple hair. “You’re makin’ this big fuss over nothing…” During the girls’ back and forth, Kieran decided to back off a few steps and watch the whole ordeal. After finalizing that his sister could not be rationalized with, he decided it would be best to try and pacify the situation.

   “I told you to hush, Kiki!” Fists raised and shaking, Carmine once again glared at him. Though her voice wasn’t loud, it still held a sharp venom that zipped his mouth shut.

   Arceus, he hated it every time she was like this.

   “Ignore my brother.” For a moment, a smile graced her lips; only a fool could see how utterly fake it was. Without a moment’s hesitance, Carmine released her Pokémon. Bright red light filled the space between them. And in a matter of seconds, a haughty Mightyena stood tall and ready for a fight.

   The longer he looked at the situation, the heavier he sighed.

   “Thank you.”

   He didn’t realize he had his eyes closed, for when he heard that voice—that one new voice—Kieran snapped his eyes open.

   Dumbly, he gaped at her beaming presence. Foolishly, he held a breath at the sight of her smile.

   Unlike what was given to Carmine a few minutes ago, the smile Aoi held now was softer. Kinder. Sweeter.

   A smile for him.

   Ba-dump!

   His legs almost gave out. Almost. One might perceive that his awe came from the radiant Pokémon that came out of Aoi’s Pokéball. The Sun Pokémon shined gloriously like the sun above. It clicked melodiously and fluttered her shiny yellow wings, preparing herself for an enticing battle.

   But no. No.

   While the Pokémon alone was beautiful, all Kieran could see, all Kieran could focus on, was the Pokémon’s trainer who shifted to a much more confident, much more intimidating stance.

   Her words. Her smile.

   It rang louder in his head than the cries of the Pokémon battle.

[auroragehenna]

No matter how much you squirm you won‘t get out ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Correction

prev

TW/CW: Electrocution, implied mind reading, punishment, threats, a tad of fantasy racism Word count: 1'589

Harmonia was awakened by a sharp tug of the chain connected to her collar. She choked, coughed, and blinked against the sharp light. Fuck she hated that thing. Out of shock, she had opened her eyes way too fast and now they were filled with needles. What was wrong with her?? Was she losing her nature? Her eyes should be used to much more brightness. Please no-

“Good morning, doll.”

Harmonia groaned as she pushed herself up. Only to be pushed down to the floor again by a foot pushing down hard on her back.

“You always make such brute sounds, I can’t have that from my doll, do you understand?”, Electra drawled.

Harmonia pressed her lips together, filling them with oxygen to prevent any sounds from slipping out. She squeezed her eyes shut in pain as the charred feathers touched each other and sent waves of pain into her brain. When she had finally made it into a sitting position she looked up at Electra who was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed already. Always making sure she could tower over her. She would love to get up on her feet but that would only result in Electra forcefully bringing her down again, probably on her knees, painfully. And she didn’t want to cause herself more pain than necessary. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

“Did you have a good sleep?”

“Better than I imagined, sleeping next to a monster. Urgh, I guess my body wanted me to have enough strength for today.”

Electra chuckled. She stood up from the bed, crouched down and unlocked the collar around her angel’s throat. Then she straightened up and gestured for her doll to do the same.

Shakily Harmonia came to her feet and while doing so, the demoness-Electra put a hand under her jaw and lifted it until she straightened up and they were holding eye contact.

“You think I’m a monster, Harmonia?”

Harmonia hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the best strategy. Her inner alarm was going crazy but she just couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Come on, I give you permission, to be honest, you didn’t have a problem speaking your mind before.”

Okay, doesn’t matter anyway, it’s already too late. “Yes. I think you’re a monster.”

“Well that’s funny.”-Suddenly Electra’s grip turned more forceful, and Harmonia could feel her jaw starting to hurt-“When you didn’t even see the worst of me yet.”-The room seemed to get darker and the temperature seemed to drop with every passing moment. Chills were running down Harmonia’s body-“You think what you experienced so far was monstrous? You poor, naïve, dumb, child. Trust me on this, you don’t want to see me become the monster you say I am. Now ask me to give you breakfast. Ask me nicely or receive your punishment starved.”

Harmonia was still only looking at her, she wished she knew what to do right now, anything, but there was nothing in her mind. As much as she hated it, this time she had to admit she was…outmatched. For now. Yeah. “If-if you would be so gracious, Ma’am, might I have breakfast, please?”

“You may. Otherwise, you simply don’t last long enough.” Electra let go of her angel’s jaw and ordered her to follow as she made her way to the eating room. Once there they ate. Electra noticed that her angel barely managed to keep the food down even with her stomach grumbling through the room. She sighed. “If you puke on the table you’re gonna clean it.”

“Understood, Ma’am.”

“Listen, doll, it won’t do you any good to panic over it now. I am going to punish you for misbehaving either way, try to not make it harder for yourself than it needs to be.”

Harmonia gulps, looks down again, takes a deep breath, looks back up and nods. “I will do my best, Ma’am.”

“Good, because that’s what I expect from my dolls.”

Of course. Of course only the best is good enough. Nothing has changed since I left home. Don’t think of that now. Another thought bawled(?) for her attention. Harmonia suppressed a shiver. She could only hope that Electra wouldn’t decide to permanently injure her. Or take her wings. The angel paled even more at that thought. Suddenly she couldn’t stand living  in her own head anymore and she finished her breakfast as quickly as possible.

“Suddenly so enthusiastic.”, Electra grinned.

Harmonia dared to not answer to that and blessedly Electra let it slide.

After they were both done, and Harmonia felt like the demoness took eons to eat, they both stood up. Electra ordered her angel to follow and they went back to her bedroom. There the demoness stood in the middle of the room, facing Harmonia and the crackling fireplace. “You disappointed me, doll.”

It shouldn’t sting. It really shouldn’t. But it did.

“You can’t expect me to just let that slide, can you, doll? When you decided to betray me.”

Yeah definetly, how could I after you tortured me so nicely.

“Tell me, doll, what was going on inside your head during all that?

“What do you mean? I wanted to get out of here. You’re keeping me against my will.”

“Did you never think about anybody else? Or were you just hurting and decided that make sure you hurt me as well? And everybody else, by putting me in a bad mood?”

Harmonia just stared at the demoness.

“But that as it may, I’m sure you will learn to be less selfish.” Electra stepped closer to Harmonia. “Now tell me you’re sorry for trying to escape. And that you won’t do it again.”

Harmonia pressed her lips together. Then she spoke in a trembling voice. “ I am sorry for trying to escape. I won’t do it again, Ma’am.”

Electra sighed. That was a lie, doll.”

Before Harmonia could react a shock, strong enough to knock out a horse drove through her entire body. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground.

Electra stepped behind her and ran her finger through the angel’s thick wavy (rose) hair. Then she gripped and pulled her doll’s head up by it.

Harmonia grunted in pain as she was pulled upwards by her hair. Now she was on her knees with her head held up.

“So, another time. Tell me you’re sorry for trying to escape. And that you won’t do it again.”

“Harmonia grits her teeth. “I won’t try to escape again, I’m sorry.” Another shock travelled through her body. And Harmonia could only try not to scream. Her body had started twitching and her scalp hurt already from the strain of the pulling.

“And now the honest version, doll?”, Electra demanded.

“G-go t-to h-hell.” Harmonia stuttered.

“There you go, doll.”

After that sentence Harmonia couldn’t hear or feel anything besides the pain inglufing every fibre of her body. She didn’t know for how long Electra let the voltage run through her, she just wanted it to stop. Somebody was screaming, maybe her?

Electra let the lightning run out. Her angel was twitching violently but she didn’t let go of her. “Are you now ready to embrace the truth?”, she asked a bit too cheerful.

Harmonia could barely talk. Only incoherent stutters came out as she tried to answer the demoness.

“Tsk tsk tsk, we can’t have that can we.” She freed one of her hands from her doll’s hair and touched her forehead.

Instantly Harmonia stopped twitching so violently. Now only some involuntary flinches and pain remained.

“Now, shall we try this again? Tell me what I want to hear!”

“I’m sorry that I tried to-to escape! I won’t try it again.”

“Hmmm, why do I not believe you…” -Harmonia tensed up again, closing her eyes in anticipation of the next wave of torture.- “Oh right, because I can see that you’re lying! Hopefully you’ll be wiser next time.”

“No-no-wait!-Argh!”, Harmonia yelled as the next shock waves ran through her.

“I won’t wait, and you can’t beg your way out of this. What were you doing when I caught you?”

Through the flaring pain Harmonia pressed out: “Trying to escape.”

“Are you sorry about your mistake?”

“N-No.”

“What were you trying to do when I caught you?”

“Trying to escape!”

“Are you sorry about your mistake?”

“I’m sorry you caught me!”

“That’s not what I asked, Harmonia! What were you doing when I caught you?”

“I tried to escape!”, Harmonia basically sobbed by now(?).

“Are you sorry for your mistake?”

“I am! I’m sorry I tried to escape!” Harmonia screamed. Tears running over her cheeks.

“Will you do it again?”, Electra pressed mercilessly.

“No. No I won’t escape again!”

Electra waited a few moments before she raised her voice again. “So you tried to escape? And you’re sorry? And you won’t do it again?”

“Yes! Yes, Ma’am, all of that!”

Electra looked down on her angel, withdrew her electricity and let go of her hair.

Harmonia dropped to the ground and could only think of the burning pain her body was drenched in. Somewhere far away she registered that somebody was moving her. Then she was laying on something soft, legs maybe? And somebody, a woman was talking. She tried to focus and understand the words. Finally she could make out a few pieces. none of this…have happened if…just behaved…Wouldn’t need to…instead be nice…like this. Then she could feel how hands stroked through her hair, gently, massaging the scalp. And that was the last thing she felt.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

[winniewings]

Her name is Sarah : Part 9 (Bucky Barnes)

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x original female character

Warnings : Past rape, protagonist was sexual abuse victim, past abuse, scars, blood .

Summary : Who could say that a normal night walk would change Bucky Barnes life forever, when he finds a distressed woman with blood stained clothes seated next to a New York’s street dust bin , holding her naked newborn baby in her arms staring at the blue eyed man with her vulnareble hazel eyes.

Part 9 (Part 8)

"No… night is not here yet... It's too soon for that... normally, we have three meals a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. In between... when someone's hungry, you can have some snacks... but... why?... didn't you eat three times?" Bucky explained patiently and asked a question that later he believed to be a rather useless one.

"No… no... I got one meal a day and that too, if I …" the woman replied to Bucky, but gulped the condition she was about to share down her throat in horror and shame mixed with disgust.

"I'm not hungry, thank you" The woman suddenly changed her tone from friendly to a cold one.

"Why ?... You need to take care of yourself. You have to eat, you are a nursing mother. If you won't eat, then how will your baby get the nutrients he needs for his proper development?" Bucky sternly declared, blocking the lady's way as she tried to move.

"But I said I'm not hungry, I don't want to eat. What will you do? Force me?" The lady challenged in great horror, tears clouding her eyes .

"No, no, not at all, I will never force you... don't take me wrong... I was just trying to reason with you…" Bucky softened his tone immediately, scared that the lady misunderstood his intentions, " look...I won't let you skip your meals. He was the one who starved you... I won't. I can't, you have a baby, you need to be continuously eating" Bucky added, staring into the lady's pain driven eyes.

"How could you eat once a day when you were pregnant? And that too if … if what?" Wanda asked heartbroken, emphasizing the last word of her question, feeling the pain of this woman who was being fed such a scarce amount of food even while carrying a child in her womb, "that's just criminal".

The woman's heart sank into the depths of her sorrow when she heard the comment, feeling helpless yet blaming herself for something she didn't do. Feeling the guilt of malnourishing her child …specially on those days when she had refused to give in to the abuser's additional demands, lowering her eyes to the ground as she felt utterly miserable.

"Even the doctors said that you and your baby are underfed . The nutritionist has written a whole page of indications on what you should eat in order to overcome it and to be fit enough to feed your child. Hungry or not... you have to eat... for your son's sake " Bucky insisted ,giving a piece of his mind to the stubborn woman, who began to melt when the blue eyed man mentioned her son.

"Come, I've made chicken and mushroom soup. I am sure you will like it" Buck insisted, softly bringing his face a couple of inches closer to the lady.

"Alright, give me 5 minutes, I'll come. But... I can't leave my son here till I eat ?"

"Don't worry, I'll bring your food here."

After the three friends had lunch, Wanda and Natasha left Bucky's place. Even though awkwardly, both strangers went through dinner in a rather separate way after he brought her the food... making way for an even more awkward night.

The brunet had already arranged his blanket and pillow on the sofa in the hall, and was currently staring at the ceiling resting his back on the furniture unable to catch a string of sleep at this time of night. Same was happening to the nameless woman, who was gently tapping her son to sleep amidst this velvety first night in the stranger’s house. Even after her son had caught slumber, she continued to tap him, however her eyes were glued to the wooden cupboard of the man. Sadly, despite being given the heavy medicines in hospital, slumber wasn't coming to her… at all. So she thought of taking a tour of this room where she will be staying.

Slowly, she brought herself to her feet and walked over to a framed sketch that caught her attention. When she was standing right in front of it, she could distinguish two women in them. It was Bucky's mother and his sister Rebecca's sketch, that he had drawn because he had no picture of them. As a result, he had sketched it and framed it so he could hang it on the wall . Upon seeing it, an involuntary smile crept into the corners of the lady's lips. But it vanished as soon as a question began bothering her again, as she had tried to dismiss it before... but she realized it was the main culprit that kept her awake at this time of the day. After hesitating for some seconds, she thought of opening the door and seeing if the sergeant was still awake.

Soundlessly, she pushed the door open, and saw that the brunet was indeed sitting on the couch with his head down low, staring at his entwined fingers. Glad to see the man awake, she approached the stranger staring at his back, which was facing her.

“Why?” The woman asked, surprising Bucky and forcing him to roll his head to see who was standing right behind the sofa while he was seated there.

Immediately, he stood up and walked over to the lady, standing in front of her, wearing a puzzled expression on his face.

“What why?” Bucky then wanted to know.

“Why are you letting me stay here? Why did you bring me to your home? What do you want from me in return for this favor?”

“ I want nothing from you…absolutely nothing” He replied, calmly to the doubtful woman.

“ You paid my medical bills, provided me with a shelter, you gave me the only room in your house, choosing to sleep on the sofa. And you think I won't doubt your intentions?”

“ I won't prevent you from doubting me, I understand what you are going through... but I will let the time speak for itself . Then only you will see for yourself that I have no bad intentions”

“But... how...?” the lady insisted, her brow furrowing in deep distress for wanting to know the truth.

“Let 's say... I... I am redeeming whatever I've done in my past” Bucky confessed, not knowing what words to use to state the reasons, as somewhere deep in his heart even he did not know exactly why he had brought her here…the only thing he was sure of was that he couldn't bear this woman being sent to a NGO, that too with a newborn child…away from him. After speaking these words, the blue eyed man chose to walk back towards his couch and took a seat there, rubbing his face with his flesh hand.

“Redeeming...? What have you done?” The woman asked, slightly scared but in fact… unsure of whether she wanted to know the answer or not...whether she wanted to stay or not?

Notes:

hi guys!!!!!!!! thanks a lot for your comments and reblogs ! they have made my day ! Here is the new update of this story , i really hope that you enjoy it and please , please let me know if this story is causing some curiosity in your minds, and what you think about it ! See you , thanks a lot for eveything!

PS. if someone wants to be added to the list, then please let me know.

Tag list

@void-imaginations

@i-can-do-this-all-dayy    

@lokiandbuckysdoll  

@vbecker10    

@vickie5446

[silencedrage]

Post-rescue Van just does something to me. The thing about Van is that her life was actually better out in the wilderness in many ways than it was in civilization. Yes, she nearly died multiple times, but there was also no screaming, drunk mother that she needed to take care of, no homophobes to dodge, no oppressive feeling of growing up in a small suburb. She was already used to going to bed without food and the general irritation that comes with hunger pangs. The wilderness is hard, but at least Van knows she has a place there, among the other girls, with Tai, with Lottie, and it's healing for Van in a way because she's never had that kind of support system before.

Then they get shuttled back to the real world and are scattered apart. Other forces start intruding, like families and social mores, and Van doesn't know her place anymore. She's adrift, without friends, without family. Now she doesn't just deal with casual homophobia but also with stares when people see her face. It's easy to point her out in a crowd, to whisper about the rumors that circulate their horrors.

More than any of the other girls, Van disappears in the aftermath. Even Jessica Roberts has a hard time tracking her down, and Tai has to literally break into her office to find the details for Van's life. She's completely isolated from the other survivors, from Tai, from Lottie, to the point that no one knows where she is. Tai of all people has lost touch with Van and it means something happened in their relationship that we don't know yet, but it also breaks my heart for Van having to struggle with existing alone in the aftermath.

At first, she looks like she's healed. She owns a little video store filled with retro pop culture items, and she's created a safe space for young queer women to seek out advice and knowledge. Van quite literally made the space for herself that she needed as a child, and it's one of the things that makes life a little more bearable for her. Van doesn't really know who she is if she's not taking care of someone. That's the role she's been in her entire life, and she likes it on a certain level. It makes her feel needed and wanted in a way that she was deprived of as a child. It's why it makes perfect sense why she cultivates herself as a safe space for young queers in a small town to land. She can take care of them in the way that her parents never took care of her, show them that life isn't so scary when you're queer, and is elated when she sees girls like her able to be open with their partners. She's witnessed so many horrors (and also a few miracles) that getting thrust back into the real world, where life is a sleepy little town and she pays the bills digitizing old home movies, it's such a stark difference from the starving and scrounging they had to do out there.

But some nights, Van still craves it. She misses the feeling of rope burning her wrist in the middle of the night, of the quiet serenity of Lottie's meditations. She doesn't want to go back to those times, but she misses parts of it and she doesn't know how that makes her feel. Guilt, shame, elation. Too many feelings, too many thoughts, and for someone like Van who hides behind jokes and crass humor, it's too much. It's why she drowns herself in oxy and falls asleep on the couch, eats stale donuts and an open ginger ale for breakfast. That lets her tell herself that her life is fine, that she's perfectly okay with how she's turned out, but of course she's not.

[free-for-all-fics]

ah!! im so in love with your claude rains prompts and i adore every single one of them! i just recently rewatched deception and i’m realizing how much cat energy hollenius gives lol. imagine him as this fat big-boned absolute unit of a cat(you feed him way too much regularly and he can’t help snacking on your breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. what’s yours is his!) who’s always watching from his plush cat tower with the most expressive eyes. he gets bored easily, so he’ll take it upon himself to slash your drapes and give you that innocent look when you discover what he’s done. he’s obviously a purebred cat and im thinking he’s probably competed and won in lots of cat shows before. he’s also either super lazy (not moving off your bed, where he’s definitely not supposed to be) or he’ll have extreme zoomies (mostly when you’re trying to get some rest)

it doesn’t matter who you bring over, he already hates anyone who isn’t you and you’ve had quite a few visitors leave nursing claw marks

have a boyfriend? forget it. he’ll always be growling, stalking around the place, and sharpening his claws (what do you mean your boyfriend’s leg isn’t his scratching post? he’s only just a silly little cat, he doesn’t know!)

maybe im just rambling here but i’d love to hear your thoughts! 🫶

Oh my god Nonnie I love all of this!! 😂 He’d be the most spoiled, bratty, yet lovable cat ever. Here are some quick thoughts I had just off the top of my head! 🐱💛

- Won’t eat just any cat food, his palette is very refined and if you dare put any food in front of him he thinks his beneath him, he’ll stick his nose up and YOWL at you until you get him something decent to eat. God help you and give you the patience of a saint should you ever try to put him on a diet. You took his ONLY food and now he’s gonna STARVE. You’re just trying to get his body to match his head and he acts like he’s skin and bones ffs. He’s a lil Chubba Wubba.

- He’s not much of a zoomies type of cat. He’s a bit too old, so he’s more of a lounger, but is probably too heavy for a cat tree. He doesn’t climb. He waddles when he walks. He’d probably need pet stairs, but he can still jump.

- He’d do that cat thing where if he’s mad at you he’d be like, “Can you see me?” and make sure you’re watching while he turns his back to you. He wants you to know he’s ignoring you.

- Try to kick him out of your room or get him to sleep in the cat bed you bought him? It is clear you’ve left him in the hallway to die. He doesn’t know what else to do but mournfully sing the song of his people at the top of his lungs or run across the piano keys and scratch at the doors until you let him in. Try to force him to the end of the bed at your feet? Nope. He’s going on your chest.

- You gently nudge him out of the way for any reason? You KICK Alex??? You kick him like the football?? Oh jail!! Jail for 1,000 years!!

- You dare bring anyone to the house that he doesn’t know? He won’t just hide away until they leave. No, he’ll constantly be following and hovering around you and acting as a buffer or obstacle between the two of you. Will accept pets and affection from you but hiss, bite and scratch anyone else if they try. He’s a cock block.

- He’s so NEEDY if you come back home, no matter how long you’ve been gone. An hour? A day? A week? Doesn’t matter. A lifetime has passed. He doesn’t get separation anxiety per se, since he’s more annoyed and salty than anxious and scared. How dare you leave him home alone or with some other person?? Why’d you leave him for so long?? Work?? He has a solution for that! Don’t go back to work! Look at him, he doesn’t work and he does fine! So why should you? He doesn’t know these random people like that!

- He doesn’t hunt because the outside and other creatures are gross, especially when dead, but he’ll bring you random objects he thinks are pretty, like rocks or shiny buttons. He’ll puff up his chest, expecting praise and affection for his amazing find.

- Will not wear a collar unless it’s encrusted with real precious gems or something. If it’s not his favorite color it’ll conveniently go missing.

[vampirelover890]

The Moon’s Favorite (1/?)

Anderson “Anders” Deephall awoke with a start, looked around his small room, and decided it was time enough to get out of bed. Anders had no recollection of what had happened last night, and figured that it must have been an eventful one filled with drinks at the tavern, as were many before. After dressing himself, Anders walked down the stairs from his room in the in to the tavern and discovered that he may not have to pay for his room anymore.

Clearly some cosmic force favored Anders l, as almost every inch of the tavern was covered in blood, guts, and bones. There had been a massacre last night, and somehow, Anders had both slept through it and been spared. Cautiously, Anders snuck into the kitchen and fixed himself breakfast. Of course he would report the incident to the City Guard, but he’d also wished to investigate himself before alerting them. Anders by trade is a researcher, and by heart the same, intrigued by the unnatural, the horrors and magic the world has to offer, and the bloodied bar was the perfect scenario for such subjects to occur. As Anders wandered the bloodbath, he’d noticed large scratches upon the walls and furniture. As he followed the scarred wood with his hands, he muttered, “Whatever did this must have been a magnificent beast,” to which a deep, gravelly, voice whispered in his ear, “I’m flattered.”

Anders whipped about, searching for the voice which had given its gratitude, but to no avail. He’d decided he should go and do the responsible thing and report the murders to the city guard. As Anders opened the door to the Tavern he’d stayed at for the past 3 months, he was greeted by the blood of the innocent and damned smeared across the city streets and houses, and clawed upon the side of the house across the street were the words, ‘Hello, Deephall.’

What Anders had assumed to be some sort of cosmic mercy seemed to be more like one big cosmic joke, sparing him and slaughtering not a whole Tavern, but a street, or perhaps a city. Then came the voice once more, slightly louder this time, “You know how this happened, yes?” Anders looked around yet again, but to no avail, for there was no messenger. Anders replied, yelling into the empty street, “No! What on the gods’ plane have you done, why have you done it, and who are you!?” The voice replied back, “I, as you may or may not have noticed, was hungry last night, and as to who I am; I am the one who left you alive, and that’s all you should care about for now.”

“Why me!?” Anders screamed to the sky, not sure of who he was talking to.

“I left you alive because you are my vessel into the world. The man who wants to know everything. The man who’ll do anything to learn. The man who’d brandish a blade against any who stand in the way between him and knowledge. I left you alive because you’re my favorite man alive on this plane of being.”

Anders, while ashamed, knew the voice spoke the truth. He had a deep lust for the unknown and an insatiable hunger for the chance to know it. Anders thought himself more intelligent than most, and while he could barter, slip, or fight his way out of most unfavorable situations, he felt this one wouldn’t be so easy. Resigned to whatever fate he would be forced to exist through, Anders asked a question, “You were hungry last night?”

“Ah yes, starving in fact, it’s been years since I’d eaten, and frankly I felt like I could eat an entire city if I had the option too.”

“If you ate and slew the people of this city, then why do you need me?”

“Ah, well, I cannot truly physically manifest myself, and so I must use someone’s likeness as a vessel.”

“Are you telling me that you ran around in my bod-”

“Your body? Oh no, no, no, no little Deephall that’s not how it works. You live in my body, and the reason I keep you around is to partake in my every whim that I do not wish to do myself. Interaction with the humans and other mortal species of this plane is your job. Whenever I wish it, I will do what I please at night, you will have no say in it, nor memory of it, and you will not question me. As a reward for that, you may keep control of your body for most of the month.”

“Understood. So when you go out at night in your body, and still look like me? I feel that would be detrimental to whatever social front I attempt to put up.”

“Ah, yes, well that’s where we come into the second part of our deal. My power is too much for your frail mortal body to handle, and as such, you are disfigured into a large beast, resembling a wolf. Perhaps in times of conflict, I may temporarily grant upon you such power.”

“Finally, and perhaps indignantly, what may I call you?”

“Ah… hmm,” the voice thought for a bit, then finally came up with an answer, “Prometheus.”

“Prometheus, then. I understand that I’ve no choice in this commandeering of what was previously my body, which is now yours, and I understand that I am most likely expendable and was chosen on a whim, and will submit to your every word out of the wish for my self preservation.”

“Good. Stand tall, Deephall. You are the vessel of Prometheus. Stay alive long enough, and I shall reward you with knowledge no mortal should ever wield.”

Within Anders’ he felt a rising heat. He could feel his body physically reacting to the idea of forbidden knowledge. He had to have it, and would kill any in the name of Prometheus to get it.

[amiaboyoragirl]

alone

i dont have any friends. i live at home with emotionally unavailable parents and my brother, who is my only semi trusted person. we are really close and honestly if i didnt have him i wouldnt be alive but we definitely butt heads and i feel bullied by him even though he doesnt mean to hurt my feelings hes just a blunt ass bitch and 6.5 years younger than me but the dynamic is basically im a big baby he feels the need to take care of. and were codependent with weed nicotine and money/food. im a mess and cant get a job, he does instacart when hes not stoned af at home. hes the only person i interact with during the day other than awkward convos with my mom complaining about something and at least once a day i have to hug my dad which makes me very uncomfortable because 1. im autistic. 2. i have sexual trauma 3. he has traumatized me so bad but either doesnt remember or doesnt think it was traumatic (didnt involve incest but he was too involved in my personal business and forced me on birth control that fucked up my health for a while when the incident that caused him to flip was asault but my mom just slut shamed me and yeah anyway my relationship with them is fucked) but i have ocd and if i dont hug them i feel like theyre gonna die after that thinking idont love them because they cant see any other reason why i wouldnt hug them. and honestly im touch starved so a hug is nice here and there but my body is so uncomfortable here. ive lived here my whole life and i feel helpless. im sure it is learned helplessness because of trauma but still i cannot fucking function outside in the world alone.

i also have tits that make me uncomfortable and im currently trying to figure out if i feel this way because im trans or because of trauma and the general sexualization of the female body and social dynamics idk. i also just got out of a 3.5 year relationship with someone i thought i was going to marry and shit but i felt like i was a lesbian and broke up with him even though i didnt want to lose him i knew he wouldnt love me the way i loved him or if i was a guy inside he wouldnt love me anymore. i know he loved me. but a lot of it feels fuzzy and i cant decipher what was real or if it was all chemicals cuz we fucked and smoked and ate and watched tv and talked all the time. the sex was fucking amazing. sometimes i cry about it still. and i still cant touch myself without thinking about him and just forcing myself to dissociate through it and sleep immediately after. ive always been a sex addict since i was way too fucking young but before this relationship i was sleeping with multiple guys all the time, i needed it to get through going to school and work and keeping up the mask. but then covid hit. met my ex. realized we are autistic. i couldnt keep pretending and forcing myself to work in a fucking restaurant that was sensory hell and triggered my eating disorder. ughhhhh god dammit i know im just romanticizing my ex relationship because im missing the sex and affection and talking to him but realistically we werent going to last and i still feel like we both were hiding some feelings or thoughts we had idk i think he couldve been a narcasisstic asshole but my heart doesnt feel that way, maybe im the narcasist and hes just audhd and traumatized just like me. idk fuck. i miss him so much. we were doing so good like finally things felt peachy again and looking up for us even tho in reality it wasnt we were and are still broke addicts too stubborn to get help. but it was fun while it lasted i guess.

anyway i feel like a rabbit in a hole running out of food and water while the world dances in the snow covering the exit. idk. i havent eaten breakfast yet and i already smoked twice so im sure ill eat and sleep this shit off but idk the thing that gets me everyday is i wake up from a dream i feel like im with my ex and then wake up alone and sad as fuck and it just ruins my day because i let it, i dont want to let go of the pain, of him, i fucking miss him and wish things could be different. we always said we wanted to die holding each other in bed like that couple preserved in pompeii. my chest is on fire right now and if i could just have one more night together id do anything. we have the same birthday so that sucks. i wanted to say happy birthday but it felt way too soon and idk if itd ruin his day or not but iwas def sad all day. we broke up 2 months ago now and havent spoken since but i saw him twice waiting to cross the street while i drove by and my heart sank to my ass. he looked good af. but i have to be honest with myself its not my responsibility to try to make him not angry and act like a man child sometimes. and its not fair tohim to feel responsible for my moods all the time we just couldnt take care of eachother the way we needed because we are both depleted of what we need idk. im going back to sleep. im just feeling emo we shouldnt get back together but i feel like i cant trust my brain because im bpd and pmdd and i always feel this way around my period, we break up then my periods over and im sad as fuck about it and regret it. its too late now im sure hes lost any interest in me and has moved on.good for him. he should. i actually really hope hes happy right now. but i know i didnt feel completely right with him so fuck it ill just try to move on. i just wish i could be normal and have a job or school and friends stuff to distract myself and have new memories but im so isolated rn and depressed idk. i might feel fine tomorrow so i wont kms lol. bpd is sooo fun. especially with gender and sexuality ocd and just wanting to be loved but feeling so unlovable ayyyyy.. i could feel hot after breakfast who knows.

[whirlybirbs]

          (   this chapter’s gif by @august-walker​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy! 

  (   PREVIOUSLY   |    AO3    |    MASTERLIST  |   NEXT  )

MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

                                        ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh. 

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

[beels-burger-babe]

Beelzebub's Very Bad No Good Day

***So this is the new format in which I'll be answering requests. In my experience, actual posts get spread further than asks do, so this will hopefully help with that. ANYWAY, I am crazy excited about this request as a major Beel simp and YES I will proudly do this request! Thank you @sinnoman for blessing me with it. -B*** Summary: Beel doesn't get anything to eat one day, and it doesn't go well for anybody.

From the moment Beelzebub woke up, he knew that today was going to be a terrible day. For starters, he had apparently raided the fridge in his sleep the night before, so there was not a crumb left in the house for anyone to make breakfast with. Most of the others had gone and grabbed something from Hell's Kitchen on their way to class, but poor Beel had slept through his alarm due to the food coma his nighttime snack had put him in and had to rush to RAD. The entire school was talking about the monster that they believed had awoken beneath the school. Teachers were on edge ready to evacuate the premises for the earthquake they believed to be happening. Beel avoided eye contact, blushing as his empty stomach continued to rumble and roar throughout the day. He ended up eating a few pencils just to get it to quiet down and even that didn't have much effect. The Avatar of Gluttony nearly cried tears of relief when the lunch bell rang. But it seemed that fate was not his friend that day. He was going to order a gargantuan-sized Little Devil mango slushy, a side of Hellfire curry rice, fried shadow bat, and 108 seed salad and the main course of at least twenty shadow hog burgers with three servings of caramel shadow tart for dessert. Beel was drooling at just the thought of it. He was almost at the ordering station when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Beel growled and turned around, baring his teeth at whoever dared to disturb him.

Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Woah. Beel, relax. It's just me. We've got a student council meeting, and Lucifer has threatened to take away supper from whoever skips out." Beelzebub scoffed as the air around him darkened at the mention of someone taking food away from him. "I'd like to see him try." Belphie raised an eyebrow at his twin's uncharacteristically grumpy behaviour. "Are you alright, Beel?" As though to answer his question, Beel's stomach let out another loud roar, causing several students to flinch and Beel to scowl in frustration. "I'm hungry." Belphie's frown deepened. Beel was always hungry, but he didn't usually let it get to him like this. The younger twin rifled through his own bag before pulling out an obviously full paper bag. "You can have my lunch if you want. I ate a little bit of it during class and swiped a bagel from Mammon during the first period, so I'm not all that-" Before he could finish Beel ripped the bag out of Belphie's hands and devoured it, bag and all. Belphie blinked at his now empty hand and chuckled as Beel chewed. "Man, you must be starving huh?"

Beelzebub merely grunted and continued to chew before swallowing down the small meal. He glanced back at the lineup in the cafeteria and put a hand on his stomach as he thought about the lunch he should be enjoying. Belphie nudged him. "Come on, big guy. We got to get to that meeting. The sooner we get it over with, the more likely it is that we'll end early and you might be able to grab something before class starts again." Only the meeting was not short and quick like Belphie had said it might be. Diavolo wanted everyone to come up with an idea for a school fundraiser, and Lucifer was arguing with Asmodeus on what was and was not appropriate. To make matters worse, you were unable to attend as, according to Mammon, your charms professor had asked you to stay behind afterwards to discuss your progress in the class. The bickering on top of the lack of food in his stomach was giving Beel a migraine and the longer he sat there, the more irritable he had become. Eventually, it became too much and he snapped. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, flipping the table as he stood. "No one cares about the stupid fundraiser anyway and you're just wasting all of our time arguing over something that will inevitably fall apart and cause an even bigger mess, just like it always does!" "Beelzebub! Watch your tone in front of-" "Shut it, Lucifer!" his brother's gaped at him in shock as he snarled at their elder. "I am sick and tired of you pushing us all around and punishing us when the slightest thing goes wrong just because you-" Beel poked Lucifer's chest hard enough to make him take a step back, "won't take responsibility for your own mistakes!" "Oh shit," Mammon whispered under his breath, as Lucifer's eyes narrowed and his body tensed in defence. The second-born quickly squeezed his way between the two of them and spread his arms to try and create some distance. "Okay! Tensions are high. People are upset. But this is not the place to brawl it out." he glanced over at Lucifer who looked like he was a second away from stringing him up to the ceiling. "Might I remind ya Lord Diavolo is still in the room?" Lucifer looked over at Diavolo, who appeared to be both hurt and concerned by Beelzebub's words, before sighing and fixing his composure. He gave Beel a hard look. "Obviously something is upsetting you, but we can discuss this at home. For the time being, I recommend you work on calming yourself and clearing your head." Beel just growled at him before stomping out of the student council room. He had been about to re-enter the cafeteria again when the bell rang signalling the end of lunch hour. Beelzebub felt his eye twitch before his demon form burst into existence. He let out a deafening scream as he grabbed a table and threw it across the room (students still seated on it, included). Students were yelling and scrambling like mice as the large demon rampaged through the halls. He tore the locked grate off of the serving station and grabbed the nearest server by the scruff of the collar, causing them to squeak in fear. "I'm hungry," Beel rumbled lowly as the demon trembled in his hands. "Get me something to eat now or I will not hesitate to eat you." "R-R-Right away, Beelzeb-b-bub." Beel carelessly dropped the demon, who scattered off to gather as much food as they could. He began pacing like a caged animal. Having been alerted by all the noise, his brothers and Diavolo rushed into the nearly destroyed cafeteria. Diavolo's jaw dropped. "Beelzebub, what's the meaning of all this?" Beel's famished brain didn't acknowledge Diavolo as an authority at the moment. Instead, he was yet another person trying to keep him from eating. "I need food. NOW!" Lucifer's eyes widened in realization as he whispered something to Diavolo. The prince nodded and took a step back. "I'm sure the cooks are doing all they can to get you food right away. But I need you to control yourself before I am forced to take action." Satan had his phone out and was urgently texting someone, as Belphie moved forward.

"You'll get your food shortly Beel. You just need to wai-" "I don't want to wait!!" There was a part of Beelzebub's brain that was aware he was acting like a child. But his stomach physically hurt from how empty it was. He was tired. He was starving. He didn't have the patience for pleasantries. "I've barely eaten anything all day, and people keep staring and talking about me because my stomach just will not stop growling and I'm so hungry that I can barely think straight! I hate it! But I know it won't go away unless I eat, so I NEED TO EAT!" The brothers looked at Beel in shock. They knew that he ate a lot, but they always passed it off as just another quirk that made him Beel. They didn't know it bothered him like this. They thought back on all the instances where Beel had stated that he was hungry out of nowhere, always with a distressed look on his face. Every single time they had brushed him off. Before any of them could respond, you casually walked into the war zone that was the cafeteria. "Alright Satan, what's so urgent that you needed me so badly?" The room fell quiet as everyone's attention snapped over to you and you took in the situation. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

You immediately began to rush over to Beelzebub; Mammon stepped forward to stop you. "Woah, MC! I don't think that's a good idea right now!"

You ignored him and continued to make your way to Beel. Seeing you, the small human that you were, made Beel realize just how reckless he had been acting. He held out his hands to stop you and took a step away. "You should listen to Mammon, MC. I-I haven't eaten all day and I-" "You haven't eaten all day?! Oh god, this is worst than I thought." Beel watched as you slid the oversized backpack that he had seen you carry around RAD with you every day off your back and begin to dump out the contents. In a second, dozens of bags of chips, candy, fruits, and other snacks spilled across the floor in front of the two of you. Beel didn't waste a single moment. He instantly began consuming the snacks, causing you to smile happily. "Wha-What?! MC?! Why the hell do you have that much food on ya?!" Mammon sputtered as he cautiously began to approach you. You shrugged. "Beel gets upset when he's hungry, and I don't like it when he's upset. So I stocked up on some of his favourite snacks a while back and always keep them on me just in case," Beel paused his eating to look up at you in awe, "He can't help that he's always hungry. It's not like he asked to be the Avatar of Gluttony." Suddenly there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Lucifer, Levi, and Mammon called out your name as Beel pulled you tightly against his chest. You just grinned and hugged the friendly giant back. "Thank you," he whispered softly into your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little more. "There's nothing to thank me for." As Beel finally began to calm down, the cooks came out with platters of food and shakily laid them out around you and Beel before taking cover back into the kitchen. Seeing that the threat had passed, the other brothers began to approach as well. "You know Beel, I didn't know you had that much pent-up anger inside of you. It was terrifying!" Asmodeus chirped as he plopped down beside the two of you.

"Yeah! You were just like the antagonist in My Boyfriend Turned Into a Cannabilistic Rage Monster, And Now I Have to Stop Him From Devouring The Whole City!!!" Levi began to ramble about specific scenes from the show that matched perfectly with Beel's rampage, causing Beel to blush as he munched on a burger. Belphie sighed and elbowed Beel as he took his seat at his side. "We'll have to make sure that MC's always around you. Just in case you know?" he smiled softly, before looking at his twin with a more serious expression. "You should've told me about all that stuff you said earlier. I had no idea you felt that away about your appetite." Beel looked away uncomfortably as he took another bite of his food and avoided the question. You snuggled closer to him, to provide him with some comfort. Satan tapped his chin as he watched the group. "I'm sure we could talk with Barbatos and come up with some sort of high-protein shake or bar that would better satisfy you. That way you wouldn't have to eat as much." Lucifer glanced over at Diavolo, silently asking if it was a possibility. The prince smiled warmly. "I'll have Barabatos begin working on something right away." Forgetting all about class and the anger that had previously consumed him, Beel looked around at his family. A warm feeling blossomed in his stomach as he felt content with the rare care and affection that they were openly showing. Maybe it had something to do with the thirty burgers he had already ate, but for just a second, Beel didn't feel so hungry anymore. ***Boy that got a little angsty there for a second, but I hope this was to your liking @sinnoman! I definitely enjoyed writing this one, and I think it made me fall in love with my boy Beel even more 🥰*** TAGLIST: @vampwiire @bunna-does-stuff

[stxr-bunnii]

Not hungry ~ Snape's daughter

» TW: ED, please do not read this if you are struggling with an ED and I am in no way fantasizing about ED's I know how terrible they are.

» Summary: Pansy Parkinson tells the class Y/n Snape has been starving herself.

» This is my second post! I hope you guys like it and I'm sorry that the title doesn't really go with the story nor does the gif but I didn't know what else to put.

Maybe listen to this song while you read:

“Y/n why aren’t you eating?” I looked up from my food to see Draco questioning me. “Oh I’m not feeling too well” I replied. I wasn’t completely lying, the stomach bug has been going around Hogwarts.

After lunch was over Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Theodore, and I were heading down to the dungeons for Potions. Blaise and Theodore were talking about Quidditch. While the rest of us were just listening. I started to feel dizzy like I was about to faint, luckily I didn’t faint and we soon made it to the Potions classroom. It would have been terrible if I did faint. The boys would have been so worried and would force me to go to the hospital wing.

We all sat down at the table and waited for my father to come. I heard an annoying voice say my name and when I looked up to see where it came from I saw Parkinson’s stupid face. She and her friends were giggling while looking at me. Parkinson got up and came to our table standing next to Draco who was sitting next to me. “Hi Draco” Pansy tried to say seductively but like always Draco ignored her and rolled his eyes. Blaise and Theodore started snickering but quickly stopped when the door slammed open. Like always my father has to make a dramatic entrance. "Take your seats. Today you will be brewing the explosive Erumpent Potion. Any negligence could lead to severe injury. So pay attention. Our lecture on the Erumpent Potion begins. Any foolishness will not be tolerated." My father started saying while writing on the chalkboard. Luckily Pansy went back to her seat and stopped bothering Draco.

After my father explained everything we needed to know we quickly got to work making our potion. When I got up to get the ingredients to make the potion I felt dizzy again so I quickly sat back down. Like always Draco noticed and asked if I was okay, after insisting I was okay Blaise went to get the ingredients instead. 10 minutes into making the potion I heard a loud noise. When I looked up I saw Seamus Finnigan had blown up his potion yet again. Some of the Slytherins snickered while my father started scolding him. I heard my name come out of Pansy’s mouth again, saying I didn’t deserve to be Draco’s friend. I wasn’t gonna let her say something like that so I replied with, “Parkinson you look like a clown with all that makeup on. When are you going to learn that Draco will never like you?” “Shut up y/n. At least I don’t starve myself”. How did she even find out about that? The minute that came out of Pansy’s mouth my father started to walk toward us. “Y/n? What is Parkinson talking about?” My father asked me but I didn’t want him to know so I just replied with, “She’s lying”. Luckily class was dismissed and I got out of there as fast as I could before my father asked me to stay behind.

Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Theodore caught up to me after class. They all looked worried. “Is it true? Are you really starving yourself?” Draco asked. I didn’t say anything. They probably took my silence as an answer. “Why would you do this Y/n?” Mattheo asked. “You’re perfect just the way you are” Blaise had said. I didn’t know why I starved myself. I'm not overweight or anything. It started with me skipping breakfast then soon lunch and then I stopped eating completely. My father and friends had noticed this but I always brushed them off saying it was just a stomach bug but it wasn’t. I got so obsessed with counting my calories. I mean I didn’t really have a lot of control over my life so being able to control what I ate and how many calories I put in my body gave me a sense of control, it made me feel like I got my life back and I was doing alright.

I walked away from the boys and up to my dorm. I had my own dorm so I fell on my bed and started crying. I must have fallen asleep from all that crying. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I woke up. I got up and went into my ensuite bathroom. I looked in the mirror and saw my eyes were all puffy and red, my lips were chapped and my skin was pale. I heard a knock on my door, when I opened it I saw my father standing there with two plates of food. “May I come in?” He asked. I nodded and stepped to the side to let him in. My father conjured two chairs and a table. He placed one plate in front of one of the chairs and he placed the other plate in front of the other plate.

He pulled one of the chairs back and motioned for me to sit in it. I sat down in the chair and he sat in the other chair. “Y/n I know what you are going through. I’ve been through it as well,” my father said in a soft caring voice as if he spoke too loud I would break. Growing up he never really spoke about his childhood and when I would question him about it he would quickly dismiss me so I was surprised to hear this new information about him. “You need to eat Y/n please for me”. I picked up my spoon and picked up some mashed potatoes. I hesitantly put it in my mouth and tried to swallow but it was difficult because I felt like throwing up. I drank some water to help wash it down. My father started eating as well. He told me some stories from his childhood. Sometimes I forget that my father was my age once. After I ate half of my food and my father finished his, we talked some more. It was nice, we hadn’t spent a lot of time together because I was busy studying for the O.W.L. exams.

[harryspet]

caged bird | s.rogers, p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!peter parker x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, polyamory, prison au, noncon/dubcon sex, this plot scenario is very unrealistic but oh well,  reader makes a deal so she can survive, hella manipulation, dominants/submissive, oral sex (male recieving), hella angst, shower sex, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: this is like a really f’d up situation so enjoy :):):) i also wrote this over the span of two weeks so i’m sorry if the pacing is weird and (also x2) this is nowhere near canon

In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage.

word count: 4.8k

main masterlist

Your eyelids were heavy though the bright light outside the bus was forcing you awake. Your limbs shackled to the seat, it reminded you that you had lost your freedom so quickly and that you’d probably never have a good night of sleep ever again, “How long?” Your mouth was dry, the heat from the wasteland you were driving through crept through the window. 

“Twenty minutes, princess,” Officer Rumlow looked you over for the millionth time like you were fresh meat ready for the slaughter. His perceptions weren’t far off and that’s what scared you the most. You weren’t cut out for a place like the Cage. 

A week ago you thought this place was fictional, a nightmare tale that was used to scare the new employees. It was still a nightmare but you were now living in it. You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as the facility finally came into view. Five stories of complete concrete surrounded by two, hundred-foot fences and surrounded by a barren wasteland. 

You were the only one on the bus. The Cage rarely received new inmates due to the nature of crimes that the prison was built for. Vigilantes and government traitors. Many used to consider them heroes but they were unregulated and dangerous. That's how they ended up here and, your boss, Alexander Pierce had sold you out to save himself.

“When … W-When am I going to get my phone call?” You asked as the bus entered the gates of the prison, finally stopping at the processing center. 

Rumlow chuckled, walking over to unchain your shackles from the floor of the bus, “Who are you going to call, princess? Mommy and Daddy?” He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you down the steps of the bus. 

You refused to accept that you had been erased. Your parents probably thought you were only missing, not that you had been wrongly accused of betraying the government and had been thrown into the most dangerous prison in the country. 

“They can’t do this,” You winced as your arm stung, “No trial. No jury. T-This is illegal!”

Rumlow ignored you, and you had to pick up your pace in order to not fall down. Your eyes wandered around, the sun nearly blinding you and stinging your skin at the same time. You noticed in the distance a group of male inmates standing behind a wired fence, wearing the same navy jumpsuit as you, and even from far away, you could see cold and hungry glances. 

You thought you were lucky for a minute since you were a woman but then you remembered what kind of women probably lived here. As you were brought inside, past several guards, through metal detectors and pat-downs. 

When you got to the body cavity search, you expected to part way with Rumlow. Standing in a small, cold room, Rumlow stood in the doorway with his hands casually in the pockets of his pants, “Undress, inmate,” Your eyes widened and you quickly crossed your arms, “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

“I-I do mind,” You said quickly, “I’m supposed to have a female officer-”

“You don’t get those kinds of privileges in the Cage. We don’t separate inmates by gender,” You shook your head as your eyebrows began to furrow. 

“That’s insane-”

“Undress, inmate,” He said more sternly this time, “Or would you like me to do it for you? You’re lucky I don’t make you put on a show for the rest of the guards.”

You shook your head again, tears starting to form in your tired eyes, “Please don’t-” You tried to plead with him but, as you did, you watched him reach for his baton, “Okay, okay!”

Rumlow smiled a wicked smile, “Good. Bend over and cough, inmate. Let me see that cute, little ass of yours.”

+

When you finally got to see a female officer, she was escorting you to your cell. In your hands, you held the rest of your life which included one more set of clothes, bedding, and a toothbrush. You had to eat what the prison provided and you could only earn extra commissary from working. Hela tried to explain everything to you but you were only latching onto every other world. 

You walked along a slim passageway which had cells to the right and a metal railing to the left. There were three floors of cells and they seemed to go all the way around in a circle. Passed the railing and in the middle of the dome was where it seemed most of the inmates were gathered. 

The shouting, laughing, and fighting echoed through the dome and you couldn’t help but think those calls were for you. You could barely carry your bag of things and walk straight without stumbling. If they couldn’t send your weakness from your appearance then they’d surely sniff it out soon. 

“This can’t be allowed,” You whispered to Officer Hela, though her dark hair mixed with the look of death in her eyes didn’t scream “empathy” to you, “There has to be some sort of rule-”

She stopped in front of an empty, six by eight-foot cell which told you that this would be your new home, “You can sit in solitary if you like,” She spoke coldly, “Your meals get brought to you and you don’t have to deal with the animals in here but there’s no time outside. It’s easy to lose track of the days and forget which voices are real and which ones are inside your head. If you prefer to go insane before you die then I’d recommend that route.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to make and you found your feet moving before your brain could register. You stepped inside the cell, setting down your things on the bottom bunk, “A girl like you is going to need to latch onto a group, pledge your allegiance, and do not let them question your loyalty. They live by a different code here and following it is life or death, do you understand?”

You slowly nodded as you listened and part of you was grateful that she wasn’t completely cold, “T-Thank you-”

She scoffed, “Such a precious little thing … I give you a week,” With that, she turned on her heel and you felt hopeless once again, “I’ll escort you to dinner-”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.” You were actually starving but you could not yet face the beast. 

She only shrugged and pulled the door closed. The light above you flickered and you stared back down at your bunk. You were holding back your tears as you tried to make up your bed. Staring at the flimsy mattress material only made you more depressed so you decided just to lay down. Facing the wall, your tired eyes roamed over what was scribbled on the walls. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is corrupt. 

You hated that the words initially sent a wave of anger through you. You hated that you still felt loyal to that group of monsters. You were a low level worker with good standing and they had just sent you to die?

With your face tucked into your arm, you cried yourself to sleep. 

+

The next day you had no choice but to face your fears. You couldn’t go any longer without food and, in a place like this, you needed to keep your energy up. Before the sun was even out, you heard the mechanical click of the cell door. Your favorite officer, Rumlow, made sure to stop by your cell during roll call. 

“So you decided on general population,” He popped the gum he was chewing, looking you over, “I’m sad to hear it, I was gonna visit you every day in solitary but I guess we’ll get some alone time soon enough.”

You scowled at him and a shiver went through you as he continued pass your cell. You were now grateful that you had chosen general population. 

That feeling didn’t last as inmates started moving from their cells down to breakfast. You stayed back, waiting to slip out of your cell when the crowd had passed. You lingered in the back of the line but no one seemed to notice you until you were in the kitchen line. The first reaction was a quiet murmur that went through the group of (mostly) men at the sight of you. 

You didn’t quite match anyone's stature, not even the women. At least they looked like they could take care of themselves. You were sure that your face probably had dark circles and sunken in features. You looked down when you felt someone's eyes on you and you cringed at every word whispered about you. 

“If I could just get my hands on her …”

“I wonder what a little girl like that could’ve done to get in here.”

“I’d be real gentle with her …” “I wouldn’t … I’d make her scream …”

“Move along,” Hela barked at the inmates in the line. You tried to tune them out as a staff member handed you your tray of food. A stale piece of toast, plastic-looking eggs, peaches, and what looked like could be oatmeal. 

It was when you turned away that you felt a pinch on your bottom. You turned around quickly only to find yourself staring at a chest rather than a face. As you looked up, a man with long, dark black hair stared down at you, “Aren’t you adorable?”

“I said move along, inmates,” You looked towards Hela for some sort of help but didn’t receive any. 

When you looked back again, the man had disappeared. You shook it off, figuring that was the least of what you were about to experience today. As you stepped out into the middle of the dome, you remembered the advice that Hela had managed to give you. 

There were cliques formed at each circular, metal table and you looked each one over as you walked past them. Again, people stared and said vile things but you spotted a table where two women were sitting. They were much older than you but the look you got from them was not maternal in the least. 

“Can I… sit here?” You knew the answer based on their thin-lipped scowls. 

You weren’t like any of them … you were fragile. Besides that, you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the organization was responsible for locking half of these people away. You kept walking, eventually finding an empty table to sit at. 

All you could think about now was eating. You picked at your tray with your plastic fork, and with each bite of the food you cringed. The toast was also completely rock hard, “It helps if you dip it in water,” Your head snapped up as you felt a shadow over you before someone took a seat beside you. 

You weren’t expecting someone so young and you certainly weren’t expecting a friendly smile. You stared at the handsome man with your mouth agape. You hadn’t realized what he meant until you looked back down at the bread in your hands, “Oh … I doubt anything would make this edible-”

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit. On the table in front of you, he placed a twinkie. The entire room seemed to go quiet for a moment and you realized that everyone was watching the two of you. 

“I can’t accept this …”

“Of course you can, it’s no big deal,” His brown eyes pierced into yours as he shrugged, “I’m Peter.”

The sugary, process food was calling your name but you still weren’t sure what his deal was, “T-Thank you,” Not wanting to come off rude, you accepted it, unknowingly beginning to seal your fate, “I’m … I’m-”

“Y/N Y/LN,” He finished for you which left your eyes wide with shock, “You’re already famous. The guards like to gossip and it’s rare we get new inmates so people get curious.”

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Don’t worry, some people in here care about your charges, how you got here, but not me,” He tried to reassure you, a smile tugging at his lips, “S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed us all and I don’t think there’s a point in playing who’s the better bad guy.”

You looked around. Now that you knew that people knew your charges and your history, you were starting to feel unsettled. The only thing keeping you grounded was him reassuring you that he didn’t care, “How long-” Your voice came out in a whisper, “How long have you been here?”

Peter took a breath as he thought for a moment, “Few years. Now I kinda forget that I was a normal teenager when this all started.”

Years. And he was a teenager when they brought him here? Did they have no limits to their cruelty?

“God,” You breathed out, overwhelmed, “I don’t think I can … do this-”

Peter reached out, placing a calm hand on your arm, “Hey, hey, you have to survive here. Whether you were meant to be here or not, you have to live like this is your reality. Looking like you’re about to vomit is not a good look to everyone else. I saw Loki over there … he’s an asshole touching you like that  but it’s because he’s already sniffed you out.”

You nodded, trying to stay calm, “But I don’t know how to look … to look less weak.”

“For one, you’re going to have to start eating more and building some muscle,” You could tell by his grip on your arm that he was quite strong, “And the next time someone disrespects you, you have to stand up for yourself. You also can’t just bark like a little chihuahua. Maybe you could pick someone out, someone that you could win in a fight against.”

As Peter started to scan the room, you immediately started shaking your hand, “I can’t just attack someone,” You whisper-shouted, your eyes wide with worry. 

Peter chuckled, “Not with that attitude. Maybe you could go for Heather over there,” He eyed a woman who was practically elderly, “She has a cane so even you could probably overpower though I’ve seen here use the thing as a weapon a few times-”

“Peter,” You spoke sharply, “There has to be another way.”

Peter looked into your eyes and you lost hope for a moment until he seemed to perk up, “I have some friends, we kind of run together in this place, looking out for each other,” Peter explained and you listened intently, hoping for a means of survival that didn’t require attacking an old lady, “I could probably convince them to start looking out for you too. But it won’t be easy, we take loyalty very seriously here, and it wouldn’t be without a cost to you.”

“What sort of cost?”

Peter shrugged, “Could be lots of things. They serve plums on Friday and Bucky loves those so maybe you’d show your support to the group by giving him yours. Something like that,” You followed Peter’s finger as he pointed two men out, one with dark hair and the other with light. Both were built like bodybuilders, “Steve’s a respected leader here and maybe you could help run messages for him.” 

You nodded, “T-That sounds fair,” You paused for a moment as the men eyed you, “And for the twinkie? What do you want?”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Peter grinned, “Eat it and that means you accept our claim. You’re one of us.”

“Can’t I have time to think about it?” 

Peter seemed to hesitate for the first time, “I’m sure you won’t get a better offer,” Your face fell, “But sure. I’d be quick about it though. Those big, doe eyes aren’t going to work on everybody.”

+

The dark-haired one was following you. Loki, Peter called him, hadn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you parted ways with Peter yesterday. He and his greek god, blonde friend were now walking behind you as you made your way through the halls. They were pushing mop buckets, evidently taking a break from their cleaning duty. 

You had gotten lost trying to find the hospital wing and now you were paying the consequences. 

“Little bird … caged and unprotected,” He taunted you and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to keep from looking back,  “Not even the guards want to save her. Poor thing.”

“It seems she’s in need of protecting, brother.”

“Protecting? If I got my hands on her, the last thing I’d think of is being gentle-”

You turned into the first room you passed, expecting to find somewhere to hide but you only seemed to encounter more people. It was the TV room, a staticy old television airing a baseball game was hanging in the corner of the room, and a bunch of men were sitting at different tables. 

They all turned their heads to you as you interrupted and you immediately recognized the two men from Peter’s loyal “group”. Bucky and Steve. Your heart was out of your chest at the point and you found yourself whispering a “sorry” before turning back towards the door. Loki and his brother, however, were waiting patiently. 

Loki leaned in the doorway, eyeing you like you were fresh meat. 

“Is this jackass bothering you, hon?” Your eyes wide with fear, you quickly realized that it wasn’t Loki taunting you. The dark-haired man’s, you remembered Peter calling him Bucky, voice boomed through the room.

You froze.

“Don’t you have toilets to scrub, Laufeyson?” The light hair man with a thick beard spoke, and by the look on his face you could tell he was a man of power. Not so much power-hungry but someone that demanded respect and often received it. 

Loki scoffed, looking over you again, “As far as I know, this one is free territory.”

“Well, this room is my territory and guess where she happens to be standing,” Loki’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words. 

“C’mere, hon,” Bucky spoke to you, signaling to cross the room. She hesitated but only for a moment as you realized your choices were Peter’s friends or letting Loki, have you. You crossed the room cautiously towards them, everyone now looking at you. You paused awkwardly in front of the table but a small yelp left your lip as Bucky grabbed you by the arm, spinning you into his lap. 

“See,” Steve said as you uncomfortably tried your best not to squirm, “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laufeyson.”

You felt a hand clench your thigh and cringed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

As soon as Loki stormed away, you stood up, brushing whatever wrinkles had formed in your jumpsuit. Amused, Bucky smiled at you, “You could at least thank us,” Bucky leaned forward and you tried not to scowl. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. 

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked. 

“Lang, get Y/N a chair,” Steve ordered another man in the room. He was quick to obey the command and, even though you were in a new place, you felt you’d been transported into an entirely new planet. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit,” Steve said as the chair was placed beside you, “You can leave when you give us an answer to the offer Peter mentioned yesterday.”

You had thought long and hard about Peter’s offer and decided last night that you wanted to reject it. It wasn’t until now that you realized your decision was a mistake. There was no telling when you’d be getting out of this place, Peter had been here for years, and it seemed you were already a target. 

You’d even heard a rumor that the guards placed bets on how long you’d survive in here. 

“Yes …” You nodded your head, “That’s my answer.”

Steve's lips pulled into a small grin as he eyed his friend across the table, “Good choice, doll.”

+

A week later and you were still alive and relatively untouched. Bucky was quite handsy but Peter reminded you that it was just protocol. Everyone had to know that you were a part of their group and that, if you were harmed, they’d have to deal with Steve and his minions. 

Like Peter said, there were quite a few sacrifices you had to make. Your new job in the kitchen allowed you to provide the group with all the food they wanted and when you weren’t working, you were running errands for Steve. You got an idea of all the inmate leaders and how they functioned as a society. 

Steve seemed to be at the very top and you realized the possible consequences of crossing someone like him. Still, you felt more pampered than like you were a part of some elaborate prison gang. Most of your wishes were theirs to grant. 

They let you watch whatever you wanted in the TV room. Bucky always called you pet names that you were starting to grow fond of. Steve had some pull with the guards so Rumlow was never around to bother you anymore. Peter even found you a set of paints to occupy your time in your cell. As long as you followed them around like their cute little puppy, they were quite nice to you. 

“C’mon, run a lap with me. You gotta build your strength,” Peter asked you, his face sweaty and shining under the baking sun. He was shirtless, the shirtsleeves of his uniform wrapped around his waist, and his magnificent physique was on display just like Steve and Bucky’s. During rec time in the courtyard, you’d become accustomed to standing by the fence and watching them lift weights. 

“I’m good, thanks,” You smiled awkwardly, “I get tired just from watching you guys.”

“Peter’s right,” Steve let out a breath as he dropped his hundred-pound dumbbell.

“I just …” Your voice trailed off as Steve eyed you with his strong gaze. You knew that what he said goes but you were growing nervous, “I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky chimed in, a curious look on his face. 

“Is that like a girl thing I don’t know about?” Peter flashed you an amused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment. 

“Y/N?” Steve could see that you were hiding something.

You crossed your arms, sighing, “I just don’t want to have to shower, okay?”

“You haven’t showered since you’ve been here?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“I have!” You quickly defended yourself, “I mean, I’ve just been using the sink in my cell.”

“I see what this is about,” Bucky had a knowing look on his face, “Dollface is scared of the communal showers.”

Peter’s mouth formed the shape of an “o” as he realized what was going on. You still felt so embarrassed. It was yet another thing that made you seem totally defenseless. 

“Is that true?” Steve asked and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by their concerned gazes, “Why didn’t you tell us? Next time, one of us will keep watch for you. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that your life would never be the same again. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never see your family again or that you cried yourself to sleep every night. That might be the reason you felt that they genuinely cared for you and why you wanted to fully embrace the comfort that they were providing. 

Maybe that was why you wanted to belong to them. 

+

For the first time, you were reminded of your old life. You weren’t sure how long you’d lost yourself under the water, letting time get away from you, as the warm water cascaded along your skin. The showers had a sorry excuse for water pressure and, despite the creepiness of the beige tiles and flickering light above, when you closed your eyes you were in paradise. 

“All clean, beautiful?” Bucky’s voice brought you out of your trance. Suddenly you were back in the square room with showerheads lining each wall. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning off the water. 

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done!” You shouted back, grabbing your towel from off the hook. You pressed it to your face, drying your skin. You were quite grateful that they’d taken the extra steps to make you feel protected, “Bucky-”

As you turned around, that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to something resembling fear. He was supposed to wait for you outside the bathroom and yet, there he was, only three feet away from you. 

“What are you-”

He looked over you hungrily and you pressed your towel closer to your body, “You have no idea how long it's been since I’ve been with a beautiful woman like you … Steve too. And Peter, he’s just learning the ropes.”

You took a step back, towards the wall, and as you did you caught a glimpse behind Bucky’s towering figure. Both Steve and Peter were here, stalking closer. 

“You said you’d protect me…” Your voice cracked, your hands beginning to shake. 

“We will,” Steve spoke, determined, “No one else but us will touch you.”

“Nothing in here is without a cost, Y/N,” Peter seemed a bit solemn like his current life was not what he wanted it to be but he was just as hungry, if not more, as Bucky. 

Bucky grabbed you then, his eyes impatient, and you wrestled for your towel for only a moment before he easily snatched it away from you. A helpless squeal left your mouth as he grabbed you by the arm with one hand and placed his other hand between your legs. He grabbed your thigh tightly and as his hand moved further up, you found yourself paralyzed. 

“Good girl. You’re going to take all of us,” Bucky spoke quietly, shushing you, his grip growing tighter and tighter. Before you knew it, all three of them were surrounding you, their curious hands wandering over your wet skin. Grabbing your breast, your thighs, turning your face to bite at your neck. 

“Get on your knees,” Steve grunted against your ear, growing impatient like his friend. 

When you didn’t move, Peter was the one to push you down onto the cold floor. You hiccuped, trying not to hyperventilate as they overwhelmed you from each side. As they all started to pull down their clothes, you made one final attempt at trying to crawl away. 

Steve grabbed you by your throat, making your efforts futile, pushing your face towards his crotch. You felt it, hard and throbbing against your cheek, “Open up, don’t make this hard, doll,” Through the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky stroking his own length, waiting patiently for his turn. 

Steve grabbed you by your hair next, pressing your closed lips against his tip. He forced himself in your mouth, “There you go,” Steve grunted, pushing himself deeper, “Move that tongue around.”

Steve Rogers could make your life a living hell in the Cage. Was this really the price you had to pay in order to survive here? You couldn’t imagine it being any worse than this but Steve could make that possible. That’s why you started to swirl your tongue like he said, deciding that their orgasms would end your pain. 

Bucky was much rougher than Steve, pinching your nose closed and enjoying watching your eyes widen and water. He practically touched the back of your throat and still commanded you to stroke Peter and Steve’s cocks with your hands while you took him in your mouth. Somehow, you managed. 

Peter was much more gentle and you were grateful for that. His hands rested softly on the back of your head, guiding your mouth slowly up and down his length, “God, this is awesome,” He cursed, his head tilting back as he enjoyed the stimulation. When he finally finished, his warmth filled your mouth and before you could spit or catch your breath, Bucky grabbed you again. 

He came so far down your throat that you were forced to swallow it but, unlike him, Steve took his time, “This little mouth. Is ours. Every single hole. Is ours. No one else, do you understand?” With each sentence, he thrust hard until he filled your mouth. You leaned over, coughing as you felt the stinging of your sore throat. 

You were about to collapse onto the dirty cold floor when gentle arms lifted you up into a broad chest. You found yourself not fighting, only pressing your face into Bucky’s chest as you began to sob. 

Steve didn’t have to say anything more. You understand your new position and there wasn’t anyone else there to save you from that fate. 

That night you learned there was a change to your cell assignment. You’d sleep in Steve’s arms, a little bird that was safe and protected in it’s cage. 

+

hope you enjoyed!! i’m posting this instead of sleeping because I have class in this morning :) 

[space-dragon-ace]

Twins

Characters: Camilo Madrigal & Twin!Reader Word Count: 1122 Description: Always together, yet at one point, you'll grow apart. What a frightening thought Additional info: Angst; Reader has the gift of electricity Tagging @deadlyboyy, @irethepotato; @clouds-rambles

You woke up early, rubbing your eyes and yawning. Slowly, you slipped out of bed and dressed yourself for the day. The last piece of clothing to came on was your orange ruana, embroidered with lighting bolts. A gift from your mother, to match Camilo's. Both of you used it in the same fashion, throwing them like artists whenever you displayed your gifts. Where your brother had gotten shape-shifting, you had gotten the gift to create lightnings, matching your mother's weather gift. You mostly used it to help the town's children to get over their fear of thunderstorms. The rest of the time was pranks. „Come on Tulio, up we go!“, you said as you woke up your puppy. The black fur-ball barked happily, wagging his tail and trotting up to the door. A second bark came from the outside, and you chuckled as you opened your door. Tulio greeted Miguel, the blond puppy that Camilo had taken in. You chuckled, imitating the dogs and hugging your twin. „Morning“, you greeted. He patted your back, chuckling. „Morning. Ready for breakfast?“ „Yes, I'm starving“, you theatrical said, leaning on your brother as if you were about to pass out. Camilo laughed. „Then lets get you fed.“ Both puppies agreed.

„Any plans for today, kids?“, Pepa asked over breakfast, looking at you and Camilo. Dolores had already started to gush about the date Mariano would take her on today, and Antonio had started to look after a bird's nest days ago and showed no sign of stopping. It was a miracle he even came down to eat. If you could call his hurried stuff-cheeks-with-food-and-then-run-off eating. You were amazed he never accidentally choked on them. Then again, it was Tía Julieta's food. The irony of choking on that would overshadow everything. Was it even possible? How would you test that? With who would you test that?! „I'm currently thinking about if it is possible to choke on Tía Julieta's food. After that, me and Camilo planned to go play with Tulio and Miguel“, you answered your mother. The table went a little quiet, all eyes on you. Isabela sighed deeply. „It is just morning but we already got [Y/N]'s weird and concerning thought of the day. It can only get better“, she said, rubbing her temple. Luisa and Mirabel giggled, and the rest of the family relaxed, too. You sometimes blurted out such weird stuff, the family was already used to it. The other people of Encanto, not so much. But since Camilo was always with you to smooth things over, nothing had ever happened.

„Fetch, Tulio!“, you yelled, throwing the stick. Your puppy ran after it right away, almost tripping over his legs as he tried to pick it off the ground without stopping. You laughed, kneeling down to hug the dog once he came back. Tulio happily licked over your face, showing you just as much affection as you showed him in praise and petting. „Keeping these two was a wonderful idea“, Camilo said, sitting down next to you. Miguel climbed onto his lap, tail wagging excitedly as he cuddled up to his owner. Camilo wrapped his arms around his puppy, burying his face in the soft fur. „It was“, you seconded, leaning against your twin. For a few blessed minutes, you two enjoyed the time you had, petting the dogs and listening to the sound of birds chirping. Then, Camilo sighed deeply, taking your hand and squeezing it. „Okay [Y/N], tell me“, he said, which made you sit up properly, brows furrowed in confusion. „Tell you what, Camilo?“, you wanted to know, not understanding what he could mean. He sighed again, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. „You've been acting strange for a while. Your smiles are not so bright, you don't really laugh after we played a prank, and it's a constant mix between you being clingy to me and you forcing yourself to be with me. So, whatever I did to make you upset, tell me.“

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stared at your twin. He looked so sad, guilt clouding his eyes and his entire posture dropped and slouched. The pups whined, feeling the shift in the air. „You did nothing wrong“, you whispered, squeezing Camilo's hand reassuringly. He yelped a second later, the shock of his words made you lose control over your gift. A tiny shock had went from your hand to his, and now both were separated. You looked at his hand, and he could see how much your eyes darkened. „It doesn't hurt“, he quickly said, moving the hand a bit, „See, all fine and well. You didn't hurt me.“ „I did“, you said, looking away, „I hurt you and it's not the first time this happened and I'll hurt you again. And then you'll decide it's too much and we'll drift apart and won't be twins anymore and, and-“ Your speech dissolved into sobs, tears running down your face. It was Camilo's turn to stare, before quickly pulling you into tight hug. You hugged him back, crying into his shoulder. He held you close, while the puppies pressed to your sides, all three trying to comfort you. „It's okay, [Y/N]. All will be okay, I promise“, he quietly said, squeezing you, rocking you back and forth while rubbing his hands over your back. You sniffled, crying a few more moments, before finally calming down a little bit.

„Is this what your behavior was about?“, Camilo asked in a whisper, „You being afraid of hurting me? And being afraid we'd grow distant?“ He felt your head move at his shoulder, a silent nod answering his question. With a sigh, Camilo broke the hug, but only so slightly. His hands cupped your cheeks, holding you still as he pressed your foreheads together. „That won't happen, I promise it. Even when your gift shocks me, or when we develop different interest, we'll always be twins. No matter what, we'll be together, because we always were. That won't change. I'm your twin, you're my twin.“ You nodded, looking at Camilo. He smiled softly, trying to underline his words. „We're twins“, you repeated, putting your hands on his wrists. Camilo nodded, hugging you again. This time, it was much more tender and soft, with no tears being shed. „We're the same and different at the same time“, you mumbled. You could feel Camilo nod, silently encouraging you to speak your mind if you wanted to. But you remained quiet, just enjoying your brother's warmth. In time, you'd start drifting apart, making your own lives. But you'd always stay together in some way. And until it was time, you'd enjoy every shared second.

[wroetospotterwp]

death eater x harry???? oR SOMEONE ELSE IDK AH

Dark Red

Pairing ✨: Harry Potter x Death Eater!Reader (Fem!) (also implies that reader isn’t in gryffindor n also set during OOTP)

Summary 💓: Y/N has been forced by her parents to follow in their footsteps and join the death eaters, it doesn’t help that her boyfriend is Harry Potter.

Word Count 🖊: 2,613

A/N 🗣: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE LEGEND HERSELF 🤌🤌 she first sent me an edit on tiktok and she was like idea, so we’ve went for it, also first song imagine! all the lyrics i’ll be using will be in italics but i’ve had to change pronouns to fit harry :)

Warnings ⚠️: swearing and made my heart ache a little, manipulation

Requested? 📮: yes! :)

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The rain was pelting hard against the window in Y/N’s dorm, the loudness of the rain drops smashing against the glass had awoken the girl from her slumber. She sat up from bed and leaned against her headboard.

Rubbing her eyes, Y/N adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Everything in her life was just perfect, her grades were good, she had lots of friends, and last but most definitely not least there was Harry.

They had been dating for over a year now and Y/N could see it lasting, what she felt with Harry was something so indescribable, but it made her so happy. The two of them distracted each other from their lives. Y/N helped him take his mind off He Who Must Not Be Named, and he distracted her from her parents.

Her parents did not approve of their relationship, and Y/N knew it probably had something to do with the fact they secretly supported Voldemort. But she hadn’t ever told him that, for the matter she hadn’t told many peoples.

Y/N was staring at the top of her bed, her stomach beginning to turn. This usually happened when she got a bad feeling. Y/N focused on trying to figure out what might happen, fail a test? Have an argument with someone?

Y/N thoughts were going fifty miles an hour that she didn’t hear her friend wake up next to her. “You look deep in thought.” She joked, Y/N turning to face her. “What’s the matter?” Her friend questioned.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She mumbled, knowing how ridiculous it might have sounded.

“You’ve been listening to Trelawney too much.” Her friend brushed off with a smile, but it slowly dropped when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Come on Y/N, what could possible happen?”

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” Y/N voiced her thoughts to her friend.

“Let’s do something to take your mind off this.” Her friend suggested. Y/N thought that be the best. Normally when she didn’t feel great, if she did something else to busy herself, the thought usually disappeared.

“Where are you planning to take me?” Y/N questioned, she got out of bed and collected her clothes that she would put on.

“I need to go down to Owlery, I promised to send my sister something from Zonko’s.” Her friend informed her, going into the toilet to get dressed.

Y/N decided to just get dressed in the dorm, the other three girls were fast asleep so she felt comfortable changing. The two girls them left the dormitory once they were ready and headed out their common room.

There wasn’t many students around the castle yet, but this was around the time many of them would be waking up. Many would wake up so thankful it was finally the weekend and they could have some sort of freedom.

Umbridge’s rule over the school was making many reach breaking point, there were new rules almost every day and it was completely turning Hogwarts into a prison. They weren’t allowed to do anything, couldn’t act like normal teenagers, she was determined to make everyone prim, proper and to not challenge the Ministry.

There only hope was Dumbledore’s Army, the only freedom they had. But Marietta Edgecombe had ratted them out, and they were all severely punished. Y/N felt sorry for Harry, it was all going so well and once they were caught, he blamed himself. Y/N tried to reassure her boyfriend that it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t get through to him.

In fact, the two of them hadn’t really spoken since Umbridge began giving them punishments, Harry was isolating himself and kept his distance. Y/N was missing him but sometimes he did this, so she decided to let him have a moment to himself and then he would be back to normal.

The girls eventually reached the Owlery, Y/N’s friend immediately heading to find her owl so she could send the products from Zonko to her sister. Y/N looked around at the different owls, but one caught her eye.

It was her parent’s owl. And it had a letter tied around their talon. Y/N untied the letter, about to read it until her friend appeared behind her.

“Has Y/N got a love note from Potter?” Her friend teased her.

“Parents owl.” Y/N informed her friend, who raised both brows. Y/N’s parents hadn’t really kept in contact with her much when she was at Hogwarts, so receiving a letter was unusual.

“What did they say?” Her friend questioned.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t read it yet.” Y/N replied, laughing slightly as she thought of something. “Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.”

“If it’s just to bring you down, ignore them.” Her friend reminded her, her arm wrapping around Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s head back up, I’m starving.”

Y/N agreed, the two girls heading up the castle for breakfast. They entered the Great Hall and were about to sit at their own house table before Hermione waved them over.

“What’s that?” Hermione questioned immediately as they sat down in front of her, the girl’s two best friends were nowhere to be seen, but not unusual for them to be late for breakfast.

“Nosy are we, Hermione?” Y/N’s friend joked, Hermione playfully shrugged it off.

“It’s a letter from my parents.” Y/N told her, placing the unread letter onto the table.

“Oh.” Hermione mumbled, most people knew what Y/N’s parents were like, she had either told them or heard Harry’s complaints about they didn’t approve of him and the relationship. “Is everything alright?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I will after I have something to eat.” Y/N replied, scanning the table to try and find something to eat. “Where’s the toast?” Her friend reaching and grabbing a piece of toast for Y/N.

The three girls just quietly ate breakfast for a while and enjoyed each other’s company, Ron tiredly stumbled towards them. “Nice of you to finally join us Ronald.” Hermione greeted as he sat down beside her.

“Hermione, I was exhausted.” Ron huffed, grabbing as much food as he could onto his plate, he always acted like he barely eats.

“You always are.” Hermione mumbled under her breath, going back to eating some porridge.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N blurted out, poor Ron had been harassed by her since Harry started to isolate himself. Ron most definitely knew more than she did.

“Still getting ready, mate.” Ron spoke with his mouth full, Hermione pulling a face and scoffing. “I think he’s alright today, you know, I’d have a chat with him today.” He suggested.

“Thanks Ron.” Y/N smiled, finishing what she was having. Her eyes caught the letter again, she really didn’t want to open it but she was also desperate to find out what they want. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the letter and began to read it.

Dear Y/N,

We hope you are well at Hogwarts, Umbridge seems to finally be turning that school around for the better, I’m sure you’d agree.

Well you would have when you were younger.

We miss our old Y/N, always following the rules and in our footsteps. But every since you started to attend Hogwarts with that daft old man as your head teacher, you changed.

And of course that boyfriend of yours didn’t help either, just like his father, always in trouble. Poor Lily should’ve saved herself.

As you know, the Dark Lord is back. You know how we always felt towards him, but we fear he will target us because of your choices. Many have heard he won’t accept us, because of your closeness to Potter.

He may come after us Y/N, we need you back on our side. Otherwise we’re all dead, you don’t want Potter finding out you’ve been killed by him? He can’t lose another loved one to the Dark Lord.

Write back to us as soon as you can, we can guide you along the way.

All the best,

Mum and Dad.

Y/N eyes began to well up, she knew that feeling from this morning meant something, but for it to be this bad? How on earth she was meant to tell Harry this? “Everything alright?” Her friend put a hand Y/N’s shoulder, the latter had completely forgot where she was at the moment.

“I need to go.” Y/N informed them, quickly jumping up from the bench.

“What did they say to you?” Hermione questioned, but Y/N didn’t answer her. The girl made her way from the hall, eyes trained on the floor to avoid any eye contact from her friends. But that made it difficult to watch where she was going.

Y/N crashed right into someone. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologised as she refused to look up, she just wanted to go back into her dorm room.

“Y/N?” A voice she could instantly recognise.

“I can’t talk right now, Harry.” Y/N rushed past him, she needed to think what she was going to tell him, if she was going to tell him.

“I just hope he don’t want to leave me.” She mumbled to herself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been a few weeks and Y/N hadn’t said a word to anybody, her and Harry had completely switched places. She was the one isolating herself, trying to decide what to do. Ignore what her parents said, stay with her boyfriend and friends and hope to God nothing happens to them. Or risk listening to her parents, and possibly lose her relationships at Hogwarts?

She had been exchanging letters between her parents in the meantime to see what she needed to do, and it seemed to be to just join them at the Ministry, which didn’t seem so bad. Her parents worked high up for the Ministry anyway, so as long as they gave her permission to leave, Umbridge would let her.

Y/N had pretended to stay asleep until the rest of her dorm mates left, including her friend, before eventually getting up. The feeling in her chest was back from before, the one she got before her parents letter. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She sadly mumbled, even the weather had mirrored her emotions, it was a dreary day, grey skies and gloom surrounded the castle.

Y/N fidgeted with her hands as she thought what would happen, anxiety fuelling her veins. “Why I feel this way? I don’t know…” She took a deep breath. “Maybe-“

The dorm door opened and revealed Y/N’s friend. “What the fuck is going with you?” She demanded. “What did they say to you to make you like this?”

“It’s complicated.” Y/N brushed off, should she tell her? She did tell her friend everything and maybe it would be good to have some advice.

After some deep breaths and forcing tears to stop falling, Y/N confessed to her friend everything. By the end of it, her friend was in complete shock, face contorting from confusing, to anger, to annoyance.

“And I just don’t know what to do about Harry.” Y/N sadly mumbled. “I think of him so much it drives me crazy.”

“Y/N, this is bad.” Her friend managed to stammer out.

“I just don’t want him to leave me.” Y/N cried, finally allowing the tears to fall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Her friend snapped. “Of course he will. Joining the people who support the being who killed his parents?” She raised a brow. “I’d definitely forgive you.” Sarcastically she finished.

“But he knows what my parents are like.” Y/N countered.

“I don’t think he’ll care.” Her friend pointed out, deep down Y/N knew the same, Harry would be extremely hurt by this. “How the fuck are you gonna get out this?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged. “You Know Who will kill them if I don’t help them.”

“Are you forgetting who your boyfriend is?” Her friend raised a brow.

Oh yeah, it would be completely fair on Harry to force him to protect her family. “Like he’s gonna show mercy.” Y/N huffed. “Harry was with Cedric and look what happened, he wants Harry and to just kill who gets in his way.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of them knew what to say. “What are you gonna tell him?” Her friend quietly spoke up, Y/N didn’t say anything. Her friend’s mouth fell open and eyes widened at Y/N’s lack of an answer. “You need to tell him.”

“And say what?! Sorry, I need to go help my Death Eater parents and probably do something for You Know Who.” Y/N snapped.

“I don’t know how to help you.” Her friend awkwardly mumbled.

Y/N knew she couldn’t. She was now trapped with no escape.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Y/N was at the Ministry with her parents, she still had no idea what they were doing or why they needed her, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. The family got into an elevator and started to head down a few floors.

“Now, whatever you do, don’t talk.” Her mum warned her before the elevator stopped, the girl nodded and they walked out as the doors opened. Y/N could see Draco Malfoy’s father and another woman with curly black hair.

“Did it work?” Y/N’s father asked Lucius.

“I believe so.” Lucius replied, nobody really taking notice to Y/N.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” The black haired woman cackled.

“Now, now, Bellatrix. We have to leave him for the Dark Lord.” Lucius reminded her, the woman huffing dramatically. Y/N’s eyes widened, oh how she was praying they weren’t taking about Harry.

Please don’t be talking about Harry.

“What if he’s fine?” Y/N thought to herself. “It’s my mind that’s wrong. And I just let bad thoughts linger for far too long.”

“We’re going in. Have your wand ready.” Her dad whispered to her. They walked through a door with a handle in the middle into a huge room filled with crystal balls. She couldn’t study them for long before being dragged into the darkness.

The door had opened again a few minutes later, but Y/N couldn’t see who had walked in, only dragged by her parents deeper into the room.

“They should be here!” Harry’s voice was heard, Y/N’s heart dropping to her stomach. Why did he have to come here?

“Harry? It’s got your name on it.” Neville informed him.

“Follow Lucius.” Her mum whispered in her ear, Y/N reluctantly following him, who was now wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Harry!” Here it goes, Y/N kept back from Lucius as the group’s wands lit up the path, she desperately wanted to stay hidden and they would never know she was here.

“Where’s Sirius and Y/N?” Harry demanded as Lucius approached him.

“How fortunate we are to have Y/N right with us.” You could hear the smirk in Lucius’ voice, Y/N wanted to run and escape, but how could one girl manage to escape four Death Eaters?

“What are you talking about?” Harry angrily asked.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be shy.” Lucius gestures for her to come forward. Slowly and painfully, the girl got closer to Harry and the words kept repeating in her head.

“Don’t you give me up. Please don’t give up.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you so much to @drearyxo for being my first request!! i hope this was class enough for you, no hate comments from you 🙄🙄

I HAVE TO SAY I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCHHHHH DEFO A FAVE i think you all know by now i’m definitely better at the dialogue part then anything else, but i’m quite proud of it all today :)

there could be a part two to this??? maybe, depends if people want it

hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @malfoysstilinski @drearyxo @just-a-bittersweet-tragedy @fizzleberries