#her building a shield around them in the night after being rescued and then then shielding adaine from their father

[trans-xianxian]

adaines fear scene being about her family not loving her and discarding her so easily followed later by aelwyn defending her from their father. absolutely fucking Sickening

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: And I Must Scream

Find the fic on Ao3

It’s been three months since Dreykov’s death.

Three months of chasing ghosts. Three months of releasing Widows. No matter how many Natasha sees rescued, it never grows easier.

Because they don’t see it as rescue. They see it as capture. As failure. Widows do not fail.

More than one Widow has been found dead before they reach her, preferring to die for the Red Room rather than fall into enemy hands.

Three months since Dreykov’s death.

Three months since his daughter’s.

And now, it’s over. There are no more ghosts to chase. Natasha doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Yelena’s file hadn’t been in those they’d recovered. She hopes that means her mladshaya sestra got out, made her own life. That she hadn’t tried to find her. Yelena had been young, after all. Too young. She might not even remember her.

She and Clint hadn’t talked the entire flight back to DC. She had sensed he had wanted to, but knew she didn’t, so he’d kept his mouth shut. She’s still not used to that—having a need met, not to meet an agenda, and not to manipulate her. Just because someone wants to make her feel safe.

Natasha still doesn’t entirely know why Clint didn’t take the shot. It unsettles her. There aren’t many people she can’t read. And she feels as though she should be able to read Clint Barton. On the surface, he’s an open book. Good soldier, gets the job done, quick with just the right kind of sly comment to make the people around him laugh. She also knows that all of that is armor. What she doesn’t know is what he’s shielding.

Clint doesn’t break the silence until they land at the Triskelion. “After we drop off our stuff, I have something to show you.”

Natasha eases herself out of the co-pilot’s seat, gathering her bag. She’s still not allowed to man any of SHIELD’s vehicles, not until she can prove she’s not a flight risk. It’s not a decision she can blame Fury for making—she’s thought about running more than once. What is left of the Red Room is gone. She’s gotten what she’s needed out of SHIELD. She could flee into the night and never look back, become someone completely different, live in a world where not a soul knows what horrors she’s inflicted on the world.

She follows Clint into the Triskelion.

They don’t talk through their post-mission routine either. They stow their equipment, splitting off to their separate locker rooms to shower. Not that it should matter—they’ve been sharing quarters for months now, sometimes the same place for days at a time, and they’ve seen everything. Natasha kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that first move to be made. And when Clint didn’t make it, she did, only to be promptly told that maybe they could explore that down the line, but not while she was trying to prove that he was some jackass trying to get in her pants.

Her confusion around Clint Barton grew.

She takes longer in the shower than she needs to. It’s a luxury she’s never had before—being able to stand under the hot water for as long as she liked, just because she wanted to.

It keeps Clint waiting, but he doesn’t call her out on it. “Ready to go?”

Clint leads her down to the garage, Natasha hesitating when he indicates for her to get into the readied car. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not a mission,” is all Clint tells her.

The drive is short. Natasha gazes out the window, the passing trees and buildings and people. This is home now. She’s burned her old one to ashes.

They stop at an apartment building, Clint pulling into the car park. “This way.”

She follows him up three flights of stairs, through the unremarkable, totally mundane building, to an unremarkable, totally mundane door. Clint withdraws a set of keys, but he doesn’t unlock the apartment. He holds them out to her.

“What is this, Barton?”

“A gift.”

Carefully, Natasha takes the keys and eases her way inside the apartment.

It’s nothing special. A one-bedroom with minimal furniture in need of a fresh coat of paint, a drooping plant someone has abandoned in the corner. Natasha takes it in, suspicions rising. “I have a room at the Triskelion.”

“You had a glorified cell. You helped us take down Dreykov, Natasha. You completed your part of the deal. So Fury decided you deserved somewhere that locked from the inside.”

Natasha doesn’t put her bag down, even after Clint closes the door behind them. “Fury decided, did he? He wasn’t convinced?”

Clint shrugs that off. “You’ve run missions with us for months. You’ve followed every order. You’ve had every chance to kill me and run, but you haven’t.”

“And what if I run now?”

“Well, you’ll make me look very, very stupid.” He sets his bag down on the couch, looking at her. Seeing her. It’s not a sensation she’s grown used to. “But I believe you’re not going to run, Nat.”

“Belief is for children.” But she eases her bag down, making her way over to examine the bedroom. It’s small, but the bed looks new. Someone’s made it up for her, the smell of fresh sheets lingering in the air.

“Maybe,” Clint allows. “I figured you’d want something more concrete. So.”

She turns around to see him holding out a file. She takes it, flicking through the paperwork.

“You just have to sign,” Clint continues. “And it’s your name on the deed. You can stay here, sell it and get something you like better, whatever you want.”

Natasha snaps the file shut. “So I’ll feel grateful to you. So I’ll stay.”

Clint watches her for a moment. “Because you’re a person and you deserve somewhere to live where you’re not a prisoner.”

Natasha swallows back something sour, threatening to spill over. “Fury’s going to have me watched for the rest of my life. This is just for show.”

“You don’t think he’s got tabs on me too? I didn’t exactly have the smoothest introduction to SHIELD either. But if anyone can escape the eye of Nick Fury, it’s you. And he knows that. He’s willing to loosen the reigns anyway.”

Natasha gingerly sits on the edge of the bed. It’s soft and clean and, if she wants it, hers.

That sour feeling grows. She doesn’t even realize her hands are shaking until Clint sits on the bed next to her, encircling her wrists in calloused hands. “Natasha. Talk to me.”

She knows she shouldn’t. To talk without a goal is to show weakness. But that feeling in her gut won’t abate. It’s not new. She’s just always been able to push it down, ignore it, focus on the mission. She is made of marble. She doesn’t crack.

She’s also so, so tired of holding herself together. “I don’t deserve this.”

“The longer you work for SHIELD, the more freedom you’ll gain, I promise.”

But Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t deserve this.”

Clint goes very still beside her, realizing. “Natasha—”

“You don’t know.” She snaps back to herself, ripping herself out of his hold. “Whatever files you have on me, they don’t even scrape the surface of what I’ve done. You don’t know.”

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” Clint says softly. “The Red Room did those things, Nat. You were just the weapon. You don’t blame the arrow for hitting the target.”

Natasha meets his gaze, radiating the deadly calm she knows makes the most powerful men shake. Clint meets her head-on, not backing down. “The Red Room didn’t make me kill Dreykov’s daughter,” she whispers. “Antonia. That was all me, Barton. That was me. It was me.”

She’s expecting platitudes. Some speech about how killing one little girl had saved hundreds of others. About collateral damage for the greater good was always justified. About how the mission always, always came first.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead he reaches out, and takes her hand.

The crack that splits open inside of her has been a long time coming. She’s been forcing it back for years, trying to prove that she was untouchable, unbreakable. She is perfect. She is the best. She’s never been allowed to be anything else.

She expects the first guttural scream that rips its way up her throat to send Clint running for the hills. It doesn’t. Instead he moves closer, letting her scream into his chest, over and over and over again.

Natasha doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but finally she slumps, her throat raw, her cheeks wet. A part of her knows she should be embarrassed, that this kind of weakness should never be tolerated, but she’s too exhausted to care. She feels wrung out, empty. She also feels lighter, as though she’s finally laid down a weight she’s been carrying since she can remember.

“Okay,” she hears Clint murmuring in her ear. “You’re okay.”

“Tired,” she whispers.

“That’s okay too. You want to go to bed?”

When Natasha pulls back, she sees his cheeks are wet too. Neither of them mention it. She lays back on the mattress, letting Clint take her shoes off and arrange the sheets around her like she’s a child. He goes to leave, but she reaches out, catching his wrist, asking the forbidden question. “Will you stay?”

She’s rewarded with a small smile, and for the first time, she sees him clearly. This isn’t a trick. This isn’t some elaborate con to get her to switch sides. She fell apart and he didn’t leave. He has cracks in his own marble that will never be fixed.

He climbs into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She’s exhausted. She’s been exhausted for a long time. And here, falling asleep in a bed that she owns, next to a person she trusts, Natasha finally manages to rest.

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on Ao3

Rated M

The evil that took place inside the New National Theater on July 8, 2014, would go down as possibly the most egregious act of domestic terrorism in modern Tokyo since the subway sarin attacks of 1995, where followers of the Aum Shinrikyo movement dispersed sarin bombs into five Tokyo Metro stations, killing 13 people and injuring thousands. By contrast, the theater’s death toll would be 50 times that amount, and when the night was through, a reported 663 people would be dead, 80 missing, and more than 1,000 left severely injured. According to the Japan Meteorological Agency, the seismic activity of the devastation could be felt from Shibuya all the way to the outer east wards of Edogawa and Tokyo Bay. Nearly ⅔ of the theater would be reduced to a crumbling ash heap, including the left side of Opera City Tower, and 158 neighboring buildings would have their windows completely shattered, destroying 74 vehicles, and causing an estimated ¥83 billion worth of damage. After conducting a full investigation, the NPA (National Police Agency) would accuse the Aum Shinrikyo movement of once again being responsible for the attack, stating the doomsday cult had detonated a bomb containing up to 3,000 tons of TNT, and were now evading police. Tokyo would be placed on lockdown until the suspects were apprehended. The whole city would undergo a state of mourning. 

Except that wasn't how it happened.

This would be a lie fabricated by the Japanese government to elude the public from knowing the truth. The truth that the attack was not of human making. That despite the whole of jujutsu society gathered in attendance, and the strongest protective spells safeguarding the perimeter, a special-grade curse managed to bypass security and seal the entire theater within its Domain, thus obliterating most of the building and killing the majority of guests and staff inside, resulting in a bloodsport of devastation and carnage.

Hannah didn’t know how much time had elapsed since the ceiling caved. She thought to have heard alarm bells blaring someplace but perhaps that was more in part to the faint ringing in her ears. The acrid smell of smoke and debris still lingered, though not as strong as before. She felt no pain. Had no trouble breathing. Actually, as strange as it seemed, she felt she was lying peacefully underneath a shaded canopy. Could this be Heaven, she thought. Interesting. For having been quashed to death by a collapsed concrete ceiling, Heaven felt surprisingly more…embracing than she imagined. Smelled nice. Warm. Had a heartbeat even.

“You okay?”

Hannah slowly peeled her eyes open to find her nose buried in Satoru’s shirt. He had used his Infinity as a buffer, shielding them from the impending rubble. She looked around, trying to collect her bearings, dazed from the noise and confusion. She had taken no serious hurt. Nothing felt broken or injured, no missing limbs. All indications she was very much alive and had not gone to Heaven. Blinking rapidly, she sat up in her husband’s arms, expecting to see a war zone: burning fire, ambulance lights, search and rescue parties frantically scouring for dead bodies beneath the wreckage. Instead she saw darkness. And like an open reservoir, the immediate past came flooding back to her in disorienting waves: People are dead. She took a sharp inhale, placing a convulsive hand to her mouth.

“Oh, God,” she whispered in a shaky, distracted voice she hardly recognized as her own. “It’s my fault.”

“What?” Satoru said, looking at her like she had gone looney.

“It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

“Everything!” she shrilled, almost hysterical. “T-The green lights, the demons I didn’t know weren’t actually demons, the curse, everything. The Sight showed me everything, but I was confused, I failed to make the connection, and now all those people are…those people are…”

She covered her face in her hands. Satoru had heard her cry before - at night from the other side of her bedroom - but this was different. This was how she cried, in earnest, when she was wide awake. She barely made a sound. It was eerily quiet, a long, drawn out pause with every quivering inhale as the sobs racked her body. She had taught herself to cry this way, he thought. Silent, so no one would know. It made his own heart break, and with tenderness he didn’t know he was capable of, he pulled her close to him.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” he soothed, resting his chin on her crown. “I’ve got you. Don’t cry.”

“I should have said something,” she blubbered into his shoulder. “They’re dead because of me.”

Satoru forced her to look at him then, cupping the back of her head and tilting it upwards. Their eyes met, face to face.

“I don’t want to hear those words come out of your mouth. Do you understand? Not ever.”

“But it’s true,” she sobbed. “I could’ve prevented this. I could’ve stopped it from happening. That’s the whole reason I’m here. If I can’t predict the future, what good am I?”

“That doesn’t make you responsible for their deaths, Hannah.” Satoru was the most serious he had ever been with her. “The curse did this, not you. It’s not your fault.” He emphasized each word with a mild shake of her shoulders. “You are not to blame.”

Hannah felt her husband's embrace tighten around her, face flush against his chest so she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, drowning out any excess noise around them. His unique scent of coffee and vetiver was comforting. And like an infant being gently rocked to sleep, she felt her pulse abade and her breathing even out almost immediately. He kept rumbling soporific words in her hair, “You’re alright. Don’t cry,” as he swayed gently back and forth. Hannah closed her eyes and said nothing. The tears stopped flowing. They remained like that for a few minutes before Satoru stopped swaying and fished out his phone. She heard him repeatedly fiddle with the screen, pressing and tapping, yet no matter how many times he pushed the power button, the device wouldn’t turn on. He eventually gave up and placed the phone back in his pocket.

“Welp, should I tell you the good news first, or the bad news?”

Hannah looked up, sniffling. “There’s good news?”

“Okay, good news it is,” he chuckled, rubbing her arms up and down. “The good news is we’re not trapped inside an actual Domain. This Expansion is incomplete.”

She blinked. “Really? How do you know?”

Satoru adjusted his hold on her. “Domain Expansion is a cursed technique. Activating it requires unprecedented amounts of cursed energy. A normal person would die from the exposure, but you’re not dead, so <em>yay</em>. No real Domain.”

“Alright,” Hannah said, biting her lip. “And the bad news?”

“The bad news is while this Domain may be incomplete, you can’t just find the nearest exit and walk out. In theory you could try using jujutsu to break through. Only problem is it wouldn’t eliminate the source and leave you vulnerable to attack. Plus, if there are any survivors down here, recklessly breaking the Domain might unintentionally kill them.”

Her stomach dropped. “So, what you’re saying is we’ll have to go out there and exorcize…the…” Hannah couldn’t bring herself to finish. She didn’t want to. Here they were, imprisoned like two flies in a bottle, and their only means of ensuring everyone made it out alive was to eradicate the curse before it eradicated them.

“Yup.” Satoru dipped his chin. “Sounds about right.”

Hannah felt her resolve collapse like the ceiling. She whimpered and began shimming away, but Satoru wouldn’t let go.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulled her in for another hug. “Everything is gonna be fine, Hannah. Exorcizing the curse will be a piece of cake.”

“For you, maybe,” she said. “In case it slipped your notice, I’m not a sorcerer.”

“Exactly,” Satoru quibbed. “You have the easiest part. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the show.”

“The show?” She shot him an incredulous look. “Satoru, that thing just killed hundreds of innocent people and is now roaming around the place, looking to eat us.”

All right. She had a point.

“Fine,” he admitted. “But would you want to stay here by yourself and let me handle it on my own?” Hannah made no reply at that and pressed herself closer to him. He cradled her head and snickered. “Mmhm, thought so. Speaking of which, did you bring that knife I gave you?”

With quick, shaky hands Hannah disentangled herself from his embrace and unclasped the notch of her evening bag. She rummaged inside for a minute and took out a short handheld tantō. Irakusa was its name, or “Stinging Nettle,” due in large part to the leafy green silk wrapped around its hilt. Satoru had loaned it to her after training one morning. It was nothing special. The slender blade reached no farther than her forefinger, tip slanted like the point of a katana; a Cursed Tool; Japanese surgical steel; wicked sharp. He had told her to carry it with her in public at all times.

“Atta girl,” Satoru said, eyeing the tool. He then took her evening bag from her and hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket with his phone, glancing sparingly at the diamond cuffs on her wrist. Accessories would hinder her movement and attract unwanted attention. “Better hand me those too while you’re at it too. And the gloves.” Hannah did what she was asked, slipping off the jewelry and satin gloves for him to hoard inside his pockets, but she could keep the earrings. Fitting what he could inside, he reached forward and grabbed her ungloved hand. “Come on. Staying put won’t do us any — Wait, what are you…?”

She hadn’t surrendered the knife. Gojo could do nothing except watch her drag the small tactical blade up the side of her dress, embellishments and crystal beads haphazardly popping off as it sliced through the chiffon like an orange peel, revealing a smooth leg underneath.

“I can’t run in this,” she answered him, rotating her newly freed leg. “Now I can.”

Satoru released his breath. Seeing her turn the blade on herself had caused him to panic for a second, and he wasn’t quite sure how she knew where to cut with such limited lighting, but he had to say. The idea was pretty smart. That is, if you got over the fact she had just carved up a dress worth more than a Ferrari.

He stood guard and waited for her to complete the alterations, careful not to stare too long at her ungartered leg before taking her hand once more.

“Cool. Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” Hannah urged, pulling him back. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” She waited for Satoru to glance back over his shoulder to show he was listening. Hannah squeezed his hand. “The curse. I think it’s a finger bearer. One of Sukuna’s.”

She felt his arm tense up. “Sukuna? You sure?”

She nodded. “It looked almost identical to the one from the Louvre. Had the same markings too.”

Husband and wife stared at each other for a long, almost frightened moment. Satoru’s lips pressed together as he hummed contemplatively, mental gears turning, spinning, thinking. This was bound to complicate matters. If what Hannah said was correct, they weren’t dealing with your average, run-of-the-mill curse. They had to be careful, her more so than him.

“Keep a hold of that knife,” he said, and gave her hand a weak tug before taking the first step.

The Domain gave the impression they were traversing through the inner bowels of some giant worm cave. It was cold and damp. The walls looked wet and the ground was tumbled and dredged in connective tissue like mucosa. Their shoes made an unnatural squelching noise with each perilous step. Hannah imagined the two of them slowly being digested, wandering deeper and deeper inside the Domain, until every last cell in their bodies were reduced to thin soluble mush.

Her toes were blistering from the heels she wore. She thought of taking them off and going barefoot, but every so often they’d catch the dull shimmer of something sharp and metallic reflecting dully off the flesh covered ground like a rusted pipe or an old metal prong.

They eventually came across what looked to be, by all accounts, a colossal bone, obstructing their path like a fallen tree. There was enough space for them to climb over to the other side. Having a much taller physique, Satoru hoisted himself atop the fossilized trunk and reached down for Hannah to grab. “Up-ze-daizey,” he sang in English, pulling her up like a sack of feathers. Hannah found herself wondering more and more how he knew English slang so well and joined him atop the huge bone. He then slid off the other side, landing feet-first on the sodden ground with a loud squash and turned around, holding out his hands for her jump. He caught her by the waist as she fell.

“Watch yer step there, lil’ lady,” he twanged in an American accent as though tipping a cowboy hat. He was trying to get her to smile again like he did outside the theater, and it was somewhat working, though the feeling soon dissipated once they turned the next corner.

Hannah blanched at the sight of a wall - if one had the audacity to call it a wall - of blinking round eyeballs. Even in the dark she could make out the red veins branching inside the slimy white sclerae, pupils tracking their every movement. It was hard to guess how many there were. Fifty at least. Maybe twice that. They scuttled quietly towards them, the patter of little crab legs, silent, unspeaking, creeping ever closer. Hannah let out a tiny whimper the nearer they got and eventually Satoru, too, had had enough. He pulled Hannah behind him and glared menacingly at the queasy colony of eyeballs.

“What’re you looking at?” he sneered.

The Six Eyes stopped the tiny beasts dead in their tracks. In a mad scurrying rush, they retreated to the innermost corner of the “wall” where a long jagged hole crusted the isinglass surface like a gaping mouth, slurping them up one by one, until hundreds of hideous bloodshot eyes were staring at them inside that one hollow crack. She felt Satoru tug on her wrist. “C’mon, Hannah. They're not gonna get you.” She was glad when they moved out of their sight.

Satoru led them through intestinal tunnels that snaked and twisted. They tried using the flashlights on their phones again, but the devices were uncooperative. Hannah’s vision had adjusted better to the dark, though she couldn’t see much except her husband's gossamer white hair and the occasional flicker of his blue eyes. They hadn’t reached a dead end, or tripped over anything. There were no signs of the curse. It had her wondering.

“Um, Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know where we’re going?”

“Where we’re going? Ha, that’s easy,” he chuckled. “I don’t.”

“No, I mean how can you see in front of you?”

“Oh.”

Hannah collided with him as he abruptly stopped and whipped around, bracing her by the arms so she wouldn’t plummet to the mushy ground.

“Oops, sorry,” he apologized.

Hannah looked at him, his frame towering more than a foot above her. “What’s wrong? Why did we stop?”

“Nothing. I’m just taking a second to answer your question is all.”

He must’ve found Hannah’s look amusing because his soft rumbling laughter echoed throughout the chilling darkness.

“Remember when I told you about my curse technique. About Infinity and the Limitless?”

“Yes, I remember,” she said. “You have the ability to repel and attract things. You showed me.”

“Right, but did I explain how the Six Eyes plays a role in that? What it is they actually do?”

She took a moment to mull it over. No, he hadn’t explained the connection. Fr. O’Malley mentioned the Six Eyes in vague terms, placing emphasis on the Limitless and the bloodshed between the Gojo and Zen’in families, but nothing more. Truthfully, Hannah had no idea what they were other than rare, beautiful colored eyes. What role did they play with the use of Infinity and the Limitless?

Satoru took both her hands and guided them upwards in the dark, gingerly prying the fingers open so they could cup his jawline. She saw him perfectly now, the lustrous pools of turquoise blue swirling down at her. The sky. She was holding the sky in her hands.

“The Six Eyes is an ocular jujutsu technique with many uses,” he began carefully. “Anyone in the Gojo family can inherit the Limitless, but it’s only those born with the Six Eyes who can harness its true power. Long story short, these eyes grant me the cognitive ability to see and process cursed energy in precise detail. I can see how it flows, differentiate between other types and use it to my advantage. That’s why I can repel and attract stuff. Because I’m able to distinguish cursed energies so precisely, it allows me to control and manipulate time and space.”

“Incredible,” Hannah said, brushing her thumbs along his cheek bones. “Your eyes can do all that?”

“Mmm, yeah, well sorta,” he said, tapping his forefingers against the sides of his noggin as he kept her hands on his face. “It’s mostly mental. My eyes work in tandem with my brain which is how I process everything; Kind of like how a super computer can sort copious amounts of data faster and more efficiently than normal computers. I can also identify things from great distances and see through solid objects.”  

“Solid objects?”

“Yup; concrete, steel, brick, you name it,” he said, candidly listing them off with ease. “Like Superman’s x-ray vision.”

A dismal laugh escaped Hannah’s lips. Leave it to Satoru to make a comic book reference. She lowered her hands from his face and began playing with his wrinkled shirt collar. The bow tie looped around his neck was gone. Her hands glided absentmindedly to a frayed thread unraveling near a button hole and twisted it around her finger. He could see through anything. Solid objects. X-ray vision. Superman…Anything… Anything. Hannah glanced down at the monstrous slit revealing her leg. The epiphany came to her like a bolt from the blue, as if everything she’d come to understand about the universe had suddenly been little more than an ill-conceived hoax and she’d been royally conned. Hannah couldn’t keep the words from spilling out, fingers relinquishing the shirt thread as though it were a live wire.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Hannah.” Satoru waved a hand in front of her pale stricken face. “You’re weirding me out, Princess — Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Can the Six Eyes see through clothing, Satoru?”

The question punctured him like a sword bayonet through the chest. Damn, this was it, he thought. This was karma; For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction; eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth; that brutal second arrow hurling towards him at breakneck speed. A third. A fourth. Improbable to stop. All there was left to do now was accept defeat and collect his losses. Would it be right to tell her how he had memorized every mole on her skin; internally traced the ample curvature of her bosom, the tantalizing dip between her thighs he so badly wanted to explore with his steepled fingers? He had to swallow it down.

“Maybe.”

She pressed further.

“How often is ‘maybe?’”

Shit. Lie, Satoru. Tell her it was an accident. Tell her it happened once and you’ll never do it again. Go on, say it. Tell her.

“A couple times,” he confessed, feeling a dampness underneath his shirt. “When you’re alone.” Shut up, Satoru. Shut up. “In the bath.”

There was an awkward pause. Hannah looked down at her shoes with a vacant, inscrutable expression that terrified him for reasons he didn’t want to combat.

“In the bath,” she said. “I see.”

His chest panged with guilty remorse. Dammit, why did he have to open his big fat fucking mouth? He had planned on telling her, explain that nudity wasn’t anything to be self-conscious about, but now that plan had gone to shit. This was the worst possible moment to be having this discussion. He had to think of something, fast.

“Hannah,” he started, gingerly grabbing her by the shoulders. “Believe me, I wanted to tell you sooner, but —“

“You’ve seen me naked, Satoru.”  Her voice dropped a notch. “Without my knowing.”

“I know, I know, and I’m — ”

“There’s a certain word for that.”

“I know, yes, you’re right,” he continued. “You’re totally right, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. Most times the act is involuntary.”

Her eyes seemed to shift. A rare sort of fury he hadn’t seen her wear before, like he was confronted with a whole other person and not the sweet, patient Hannah he’d come to know and admire.

“Oh, so it’s involuntary to look at someone when they’re bathing? Men have no control over their actions? Is that what you're saying?”

“What!? No, of course not. I  — ”

“Your eyes have a mind of their own then?!”

“Hannah, that’s not — ”

“You don’t have the right, Satoru.” He could register the notes of betrayal and repressed anguish vying for supremacy in her voice. Her lip trembled, the strained, painful look of someone on the verge of crying again. “None of you have the...”

Fresh tears began cascading down her cheeks and Satoru felt like an important piece of him had crawled into a ditch and died. He had hurt her. She was crying because of something he did, on top of the fact they were tracking a curse that could attack at any moment, but Satoru knew she wasn’t crying because of him being a peeping Tom, no, it was so much more than that.

We’re kindred spirits, you and I.

All his life Satoru was forced to grapple with the unfair reality that he wasn't like normal kids. He could remember himself at five, accompanying Makoto (then his nanny) on the train ride home from preschool. He had to stay behind afterwards for sending a kid to the nurse’s office with a bloody nose - that’s what happened to dweebs who picked on him and called him names - and as last minute passengers were boarding the train, a hulking boulder of a man plodded his way up the boarding ramp and seated himself inside the jam packed coach. The baggy clothes hid the extent of his maladies, but Satoru saw every one.

The dude had a big ole wart sprouting between the sill of his nose. He stank of cheap liquor and urine, was at least a hundred pounds overweight, and his lungs were tarred black from years of heavy chain smoking. But the more pressing issue was the yellow, foamy puss festering out the tip of his limp phallus, indicating he had contracted some sort of STI. That was Satoru’s first real encounter with involuntary nudity. It came without warning. One second he was an innocent, happy-go-lucky kid with perfectly normal vision on his way home from school, and then suddenly, bam, everybody was huddled around him on the train, butt-naked and oblivious. He could see into their bodies: heart defibrillators, bone implants, tampons. That metaphor public speakers use whenever they get nervous, the one where they’re told to imagine the audience sitting in their underwear? Yeah, the Six Eyes took that analogy to new soaring heights, except nudity wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. No, not by a long shot.

For two years after that day, Satoru struggled with life debilitating headaches. His senses were off the charts. He could perceive infrared radiation and ultraviolet light, the full color spectrum thought only visible to arachnids and reptiles. He saw various cursed energies; blobs of red, pinks, and purples splattered every which way, the rarest being a black flash that glowed whenever someone executed the perfect punch, and as he previously mentioned, he could see through solid objects and zoom things in and out of focus: a stag beetle lumbering up the side of a oak tree from three kilometers above, or the microscopic chloroplasts stuffed inside a mulberry leaf like tiny green caviar. However, Satoru did try extra hard not to see through people’s clothing, mostly because it was weird and not always sexy (especially when it was someone he knew), although the structure of fabric was “permeable” in relation to steel and concrete. He often used the analogy of a soap bubble. Trying not to peek through fabric was like trying not to pop a soap bubble. Any loss of focus or slip of concentration, and the bubble would burst. Pop. Bye, bye, clothing.

He gained better control of it as time went on, learning to alternate the varying eyesights like you would a phoropter at a vision exam: infrared, ultraviolet, zoom in, zoom out. Can you see better through lense 1, Mr. Gojo? How bout 2? With added practice the switching became effortless, like breathing oxygen or memorizing the shortcuts on a calculator. It was more tolerable at night, which was why he stupidly left his glasses folded on his dresser, thinking he wouldn’t need them. Idiot. He could already feel the headache clambering up the base of his skull like a brain-sucking leech, and on top of that, he left the Bufferin tablets in the lining pocket of his tails, draped seamlessly along the folded theater seat. Due to his insanely high metabolism, he usually needed twice the recommended dose, but there was a time when no amount of ibuprofen was enough to kill the migraines, and he was taken out of school because of it.

His home education was relatively undemanding, if you set aside the hand lashings he so generously received for having recited the Classic of Filial Piety incorrectly (albeit, on purpose), but by and large he was given the best tutors, trainers, and physicians money could buy, yet for all the privilege and wealth, his spoiled upbringing was a painfully isolated one with almost no freedom. He tended to be rough with the visiting children and prone to bouts of anger, blindly punching his frustrations out on anyone who made fun of his hair, or called him a “freak.” And his family seldom helped in that department, touting him around like an expensive artifact, making it difficult for five year old Satoru to interpret whether he was genuinely loved, or propped up as some kind of rare collectors item; a bargaining chip used to tilt the power dynamic in the Gojo family’s favor after a stagnant 400 years. It was always “Six Eyes that” and “Six Eyes this” and “Here, sweetie, have another cookie.”

Satoru had been told all his life he was special, that the blood of Sugawara no Michizane flowed through his veins and he was destined for greatness. But all it did was make him resentful of the way it had taken over his life. Deep down he wanted people to stop treating him like a hamster on an exercise wheel, and more like a human being. Ask him how he felt for a change. Tell him he was doing a good fucking job and that the higher-ups could go hang themselves cause if he wasn’t the Six Eyes wielder then who was he really?

Hannah knew. Heck, she was one of the few people willing to try. Enough to where he could drop the cocky, jokester routine and be himself. Just him. Just Satoru. He couldn’t necessarily do the same with Shoko, or even his devoted housekeeper who he viewed more as a mother than his actual mother. He was a serious person in Hannah’s eyes, and he felt inclined to believe their friendship wasn’t based solely on the condition they were married. She didn’t treat him like a weapon or an incarnated deity, because she knew. She knew what it was like to have your life dictated by forces beyond your control, and better still, she hadn’t shown signs of being afraid of him since their handshake in the Starbucks. Things had been going so well.

Until the very moment he opened his big fucking mouth.

Nice going, Satoru. Let’s see you try and talk your way out of this one.

He rubbed his face with his hands, like he was washing without water, and blew a vexing sigh. “Look, you can yell at me all you want once we’re back home, but for now we need to stay…Hannah?”

Satoru looked to his side.

Hannah was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Contents

[syngrafaes09]

Strange Nights | Vampire! Dr Strange x Y/n

Logline: After Y/N gets imprinted by a vampire Dr Strange, living under a fictive identity, they must unravel the cause behind her constant misadventures before their hopes are crushed forever.

Masterlist

Chapter 11 : Not a Coincident

Turning around the corner, Y/N froze in horror. The narrow lane that would have led her to the main lane was barricaded by a hooded figure. The dark silhouette's hands glowed dull grey as she felt the ground slip beneath her feet. The sudden sickening sensation of free-falling engulfed her. Her head spun when she looked down. Then she felt being slammed against something that wasn't there. She looked around in vain trying to figure out where she was. It was the same lane but it was somehow different. Everything around was constructed by shards of broken mirrors, moving in continuous motion until her captivator appeared. This all seemed like a nightmare that would end as soon as she opened her eyes. She pinched and slapped herself in despair to wake up as soon as possible.

A low feral laugh echoed. "You think you can escape from me as if it is a dream?" the voice growled.

A cold sweat chilled her spine. Mustering any courage she was left with, Y/N asked "What do you want?"

The figure shook his head. She wondered whether he was the same person who had attacked their car. Another laugh rippled through his throat. If he was here to kill her, she wanted him to do it quickly and put her out of this misery of constantly facing near death but never dying.

"Kill you," he whispered as a blade of sorts appeared in his palm and charged in her direction. Y/N closed her eyes, having no urge to fight back and waiting for him to stab her.

The air felt heavy as seconds turned to minutes and the blow didn't come. Hoping that the dream was over, she opened her eyes only to find out it hadn't. She looked around, expecting her captivator to attack out of thin air, only to find him standing horizontally on a building - defying gravity - quite some feet away from where he stood, and showering death blow on another figure. The other man had glowing orange holographic discs to his rescue. She blinked several times, trying to figure out who either of them was when she felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

Y/N screamed and scrambled up, half-running, stumbling away from the piece of cloth. Like before the surroundings had resumed their irregular motion making her escape difficult. She let out another scream when the cape latched itself unto her, lifting her off the ground. Under normal or any pleasant circumstances this would have felt like being a super-girl but now, trapped in this unknown world free of gravity with men fighting with bizarre weapons and shields, this was beyond anything she had ever imagined to experience even in a dream.

She was whirled around through the shifting buildings like dry leaves in the wind towards what seemed like a circle of fire. She heard a scream of agony and looked over my shoulder to see the silhouette of my captivator in hot pursuit. The cape stopped as if it was affected by the scream, trying to choose between her and the other man.

"Just get her out," a tormented voice cried out.

After seemingly understanding the order, the cape didn't hesitate a second to shoot her through the circle, dropping her on the ground, before disappearing back into the diminishing circle. She looked around her once again, hoping that this time she was in the world known to her.

Breathing out a sigh of relief that the world around her wasn't carved out of mirror shards or was moving, Y/N registered she was again near an alley end. Only this time she had a company of a Lamborghini.

"Do you have any intentions of killing me?" She asked absentmindedly to the car, standing up from the road, debating over what she should do next.

Not far from the vicinity, a swishing sound caught her attention. Golden-orange sparks illuminated the dim alley before manifesting into a circle through which Dr Rochester stepped out. He waved his hand and the circle which acted as a portal diminished like before. She studied his flawless features in the limited light until it occurred to her that his expression was murderously angry. Though she knew what might have happened to the other man, she couldn't help but ask, "Who was he? What happened to him?"

"Dead," he declared.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" He asked. His voice was tight and controlled.

"No," she replied curtly. He exhaled a sharp breath. The cape that Edna Mode will highly appreciate, latched to his shoulders and twirled flamboyantly in the cold breeze. Y/N shivered, missing her coat already.

The cloak detached itself from Stephen and latched onto her and hugged her warmly. Stephen's low chuckle reverberated in the atmosphere.

"So that's where your loyalty lies now?" He asked, chucking in almost an accusing voice. The cape clung to Y/N tighter in response. "Lucky you, Cloak isn't friendly towards most of the people," he said, walking towards her.

It was then that she noticed the warm liquid oozing out of his palms.

"You are bleeding." She tried to reach out for his hand but he pulled it away.

"No, it's nothing," he countered. It would heal in minutes.

"It is, it's bleeding," Y/N said firmly, taking hold of his hand and trying to open his balled fist.

If someone kept records of how many unforeseen, strange incidents can be witnessed by a person in a few minutes, Y/N was sure her record would remain unbroken for centuries.

She opened his palm to watch the bleeding scar heal within some seconds. She was so appalled for a moment that she couldn't speak anything but just stare at him. "W-who are you?" she asked, staggering backwards.

"There is no point in hiding it from you, is there?" His shoulders drooped down. "Don't be afraid, I will never hurt you."

She couldn't understand what he had been hiding and why he wasn't bothered to hide it anymore. What this killer saviour of mine was capable of doing besides creating bridges to strange worlds and healing quickly? Nevertheless, she nodded. He sighed. "First, let's get out of here. You hadn't come here alone?" He asked, opening the passenger door for her.

Y/N dragged her palm down her face. She had forgotten about her friends. They would have been worried to death.

"My battery's dead, can I borrow yours to call Emily?"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. call Emily Harriet," he ordered no one she could see. "Yes sir," a female Irish voice responded.

All three of them were on their nerves. Emily was seconds away from calling Chief Henley to report that his stepdaughter had gone missing. After reassuring her that she was safe and lying that nothing wrong had happened to me other than losing her way which was true; they drove in silence to where her friends had been waiting.

Y/N waited for him to speak first but he seemed to remain strategically silent. "Who was he and why did he want to kill me?" she murmured.

"He was a sorcerer. As for why he wanted to kill you, it's something I too am not clear about. And is a matter of concern."

She sighed. "Why didn't you just let him kill me? Everybody around me would have one person less to worry about." She had whispered to herself.

"What?" He almost sounded mad. "Do you have any idea how much your life matters?" he growled, his grey eyes fierce, "at least to me?" Y/N shivered at his tone. He was mad. Irrationally mad.

"What do I mean to you?" She tried to snap back. "Answer me." When he didn't speak, she tried to insist, "You owe me an explanation about what happened this evening."

"I saved your life. I don't owe you anything."

"Then why does my life matter to you so much?" It was then she realised the strange coincidence of him being nearby every time she had experienced near-deaths after moving into Rockport. "What is with you trying to save me every time I almost die?"

"I'll drop you by the grill." She flinched at his stern voice.

He didn't speak another word until he had parked. "I hope you can make it to them without endangering yourself again. Or do you need me to-"

"Not necessary," Y/N cut him off and got out of the car at once. Emily and Lily were pacing anxiously on the sidewalk, Anna leaning against one of the cars parked against the curbside. She waved and yelled out their names. They hurried towards her with Anna shortly behind them.

"Shall we leave?" She asked them, worried over Matt grounding her again. Then another worry struck her. she wished for none of them to notice her wrinkled, dirty dress or her fuzzy hair.

"Don't you want to eat?" Lily asked.

"I'm not that hungry unless you guys haven't eaten."

Surprisingly Anna stopped, standing hesitantly a few feet away from them as astonishment flickered through Emily and Lily's faces. She noticed it was because something behind my back had caught their attention. She looked over my shoulder to find Dr Rochester inches away from her, placing his trench coat over her shoulders awkwardly. She looked at him worried that they might notice the bloodstains but observed that he was clean like nothing had ever happened.

"Sorry – we ate while waiting," Emily confessed.

"It's fine, let's go," Y/N said, looking down at her wrinkle-free dress. She was about to turn towards Dr Rochester to say goodbye but got interrupted.

"I think you should eat," Dr Rochester spoke in his deep, irresistible voice. Though his expression was stoic, his eyes were perplexedly fixated on Anna. "Do you mind if I drive Y/N home?" Emily and Lily looked at each other and back at her. "Matt's fine with it," he added unexpectedly. It was a total lie. Matt would definitely not agree to this.

[foreverindreamlandd]

Awake My Soul • 16

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 5k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, healing from trauma, mentions of injuries, liiiil bit of angst BUT MOSTLY FLUFF I SWEAR :)

A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue, folks. Please enjoy all the fluff in this one. Thank you a million times over for your patience. Will try to get the epilogue to you as soon as possible. <3

Series Masterlist

**There is a playlist for this fic, but linking it here messes up the tags so feel free to check it out in the series masterlist!

It was raining.

The soft pitter patter of water droplets as they landed on the roof of the watchtower created a steady, calming cadence for your ears.

Behind you, Morgan, AJ, and Cass squealed in delight as they ran around in the mud and rain with their new friends, Billy and Tommy, twin brothers. 

Once you had settled yourself back to camp, you requested to switch your watch shift to the day. Nights were still hard for you, and though you rarely slept through them anymore, it felt safer to be in the dorms where your family was just a few feet away rather than being outside  by yourself in the dark. 

The dark was still hard for you after all that time locked in that pitch black room with Hydra. 

The only argument Sam had was whether it was too soon for you to return to your regular duties, but you quickly waved him off. It was worse sitting around doing nothing, allowing intrusive thoughts and agonizing memories to enter your mind. You preferred getting your hands dirty as you picked the grown vegetables in the garden, or cleaning the weapons in your arsenal room.

And being here, on watch, where you could escape to whatever world existed between the pages of the book you were currently reading.

You stuck with comfort reads lately, first picking up Ella Enchanted to come back to something familiar, something grounding. Now, you were flipping through Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen, a book you read at least five times during your days as a young, angsty teen.  

Resting the book on the ground beside you, you turned your gaze to watch the kids play, a  small smile on your lips. From the corner of your eye you saw the twin’s mom, Wanda, standing against one of the brick buildings. Her arms crossed in front of her, and she was laughing at the eruption of giggles coming from her boys.

Lord knows how long it had been since they had laughed like that.

The Maximoffs were one of the dozens of prisoners held at the Hydra camp. Shield had helped as many as they could escape, guiding them through the woods and providing any resources they could as you began your trek home. 

Many of the prisoners broke away a few days after the rescue, itching to go find any remaining members of their previous group.

Wanda’s husband Vision approached to join her in watching them play, wrapping an arm around his wife and kissing the crown of her head as she leaned into him.

From what you learned from the Maximoffs, Wanda had been separated from Vision and the twins for months after being captured by Hydra. Up until a few weeks ago when Shield blew the underground prison to the ground, she had nearly driven herself mad thinking they were all dead.

For the entire journey back to camp, she did not let her boys stray more than five feet from her, and you could see the distress in her eyes whenever she wasn’t holding their hands or holding them in her arms.

Turning your focus back to the outskirts of camp, you extended your arm out, letting the rain splash into the palm of your hand.

It had been so long since you were able to enjoy rain like this. To let its natural tempo steady your heartbeat, for the heightened smell of the trees around you settle your mind, to focus on the feeling of its cool droplets against your skin.

You closed your eyes, letting this small comfort bring ease to your senses. 

A soft whistle sounded off behind you, and your heart fluttered in response. Seconds later, strong arms wrapped you from behind, and gentle lips were pressing lightly on a faded bite mark on your neck.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he whispered, chin resting on your shoulder.

Your hand when on his arm, thumb running up and down the sleeve of his Henley. “Hi, Bucky.”

Bucky let out a small breath of relief at the sound of his name on your lips, pulling away just enough to take hold of your chin and slowly glide your gaze to him.

You stared into those stunning blue eyes, and all of the adoration shining within them as he gauged your reaction to saying his name. Looking for any sign of discomfort, his body relaxing more and more when he determined you were okay.

This was the new routine the two of you had established since beginning your journey of ripping yourself of Hydra’s hold. It took…a lot of patience and learning from you both, and had been far from easy.

When you first cleared your mind of its clouded, confused state after Bucky had been bitten by the runner, the two of you naively thought that you were totally free from the brainwashing that had been done to you. There were so many happy tears, lots of kissing, and lots of smiles as relief flooded through you.

That night, after the rest of Shield had reunited and built camp on the outskirts of the rubble with the rescued prisoners, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling like everything was going to be okay.

But apparently the nightmares still remained in the darkest depths of your mind, and you were back in the woods running from Bucky. When you woke to concerned eyes, you let out a blood-curdling scream, fighting and clawing your way free from the monster before you. 

Moments later, after a lot of heavy breathing and his calm, soothing voice, you registered where you were and who you were with, collapsing into his chest as sobs overtook you, your brain trying to put itself back together again.

It was one of the worst moments of your life, witnessing the pain in his eyes, the fear that a part of you would always be afraid of him. 

It didn’t end there. Sometimes he would walk up to you too quietly and you would whip around pressing a dagger to his neck. Whenever you said his name, the pain of the collar that was no longer around your neck resurfaced so aggressively that you would keel over in agony.

And though each of these moments devastated Bucky, he was determined to stay by your side and help you through each trigger, determined to help you fight the demons that still lingered in your mind.

You were both determined to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Which was what prompted “The System.” 

Him whistling whenever he was approaching from behind to make you aware of his presence, you saying his name over and over and over again to chip away the pain it caused in your neck from the phantom collar.

Sleeping in separate spaces. That had been the hardest, going to bed desperately wishing to have your greatest protector and friend but having to force yourselves to be apart so that you wouldn’t wake up thinking he was trying to kill you.

Baby steps. It was what you had told yourself during those early days of knowing Bucky, when you were trying to get him to not hate your guts. It had worked then, and you hoped it would work now.

And of course it did, because everything involving you and Bucky would always work out. It had to.

It happened when you were walking the halls of the dorms late one night, returning to your room from the bathroom. When you passed Bucky’s door, you heard sounds of distress.

At first, you wondered if it was in your head, but then you heard the faint cry of Bucky calling for help, and you were by his side in an instant.

You touched his arm. “Bucky?” There was a slight sting in your neck but you fought back a wince.

His eyes were closed, face scrunched in agony. “Help. Help.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hand going to his sweat-covered forehead.

“Can’t…can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t find her.”

Your brows furrowed. “Can’t find who?”

Tears fell from his closed eyes. “Y/n. She’s gone,” he whimpered. “I can’t find her. I need her.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice, the despair, and without a second thought you crawled into bed, holding him tightly in your arms as he clung to you.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you whispered, kissing his forehead. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Your comforting words made him release a long, heavy sigh, and his hands squeezed around your waist in desperation.

His breathing remained ragged for a little while longer, but eventually, with you whispering comforting words, he relaxed.

You tried to stay awake all night, dreading the idea of you falling asleep while he was in such turmoil and waking up in a state of terror being near him, not wanting to be the cause of more heartache for him.

But the nightmares that had incessantly haunted your dreams had made your nights restless, and you were completely exhausted. So eventually, as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, you dozed off into a deep slumber.

This time, instead of running through the woods, you were standing in the clearing he had once taken you to. You watched a handful of wild horses - one of them a stunning blue-gray color - galloping along the lush field, the warm sunlight of golden hour on your face, sky aglow in various shades of pink, orange, and purple.

It was so…peaceful.

You felt something brush along your neck, and instead of panic, you felt warmth course through you.

Bucky pulled his lips away as you turned to him, his eyes shining in the bright sunlight. He was so beautiful, so happy as he looked at you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his and resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you staring out into the clearing, no thoughts of danger or fear in your mind whatsoever.

Only love.

When you woke up that morning, the smile was still on your face.

It dropped when you noticed Bucky was no longer in bed with you, but sitting on the floor, back resting against the bed.

He turned to look at you, a shameful look in his eyes like a sad puppy.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Sorry for what?”

His lips curved up in a joyless smile. “Somehow forcing you in here. And then for being selfish and not leaving before you woke up.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Bucky.” You shuffled over to create a space in the bed, patting the sheets. “Get your ass back in here.”

He narrowed his eyes, skeptical, but when he opened his mouth to argue, you scowled, and he thought better than to go against your wishes.

Slowly, and hesitantly, he got up from the floor and crawled back into bed, his muscles relaxing as he wrapped his arm around you.

Your head rested on his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat slow down.

“You were calling for help in your sleep,” you whispered after a few minutes, and his muscles tensed back up.

“Really,” he replied, hand moving over your head, massaging your scalp. 

You nodded. “You couldn’t find me.”

Silence.

“Do you have that dream often?” you asked.

More silence. And then…

“Every night since you left.”

Your heart split at the sadness in his voice and you lifted yourself up to look at him, hand cupping his cheek. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

Bucky let out a small, bitter laugh, rolling his eyes. “I should be saying that to you, Sweetheart.”

“Are you kidding? You saved me from the dark and brought me back to life, Buck, in every way that it mattered. You have been so kind, and patient, and loving. You never gave up on finding me, and you still haven’t given up on me even though I’ve been a fucking wreck. Through all the shit I’ve put you through, you never gave up on me.”

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes as he wiped away the one sliding down your cheek.

“And I never will. I’ll never give up, I’ll never stop waiting, I’ll never stop fighting for you.” 

His hand moved to gently cup the back of your head as he pulled you closer for a slow, tender kiss. 

The two of you stayed in bed the rest of the day - with the exception of Bucky running to the kitchen to grab food for the both of you after his stomach grumbled for an entire minute. You stayed there, wrapped up in each other, drifting between silence and talking about anything and everything. 

Things hadn’t been this easy between you two in such a long time, that you had almost forgotten how much you had been craving it.

Enough time passed that you could barely register it passing anymore, your lids growing heavy as Bucky hummed a soft tune you both loved, the rumbling in his chest lulling you to sleep. 

You weren’t sure how long you had drifted off for before he gently nudged you awake, and the room was pitch black.

“We should get you to bed,” he whispered, kissing your temple before starting to slide out of his bed to escort you to your room.

A soft groan escaped and you shook your head, hands gripping around his t-shirt.

“I wanna stay,” you mumbled, eyes slowly closing.

Even in the dark, you could sense the skepticism in his eyes, and though he did not pull away from your hold, his body remained tense.

“I don’t want to risk it, Sweetheart. What if we just got lucky this morning?”

“Bucky, please let me stay,” you quietly begged. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The earnestness in your voice was what finally got him to relax, his body melding back against yours.

“If you start feeling overwhelmed or afraid even for a second, just let me know. Okay?”

You nodded, pulling him closer to you until your cheek rested against his chest once more, already drifting back to sleep. “I will.”

The last thing you felt before returning to your slumber were his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

And then…

You were back in the field, with gentle arms wrapped around you, staring at the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

You felt loved. Happy.

Safe.

When you awoke hours later - the soft rays of sunlight warming your eyelids - you opened your eyes to a still sleeping Bucky. He must have tried to stay awake all night to make sure you were comfortable, exhausting himself. 

There was a small part of your mind that was just as nervous about waking up with him after these past few weeks. What if you weren’t ready for this moment? What if the triggers were hidden somewhere in your brain, about to go off any second as you looked at him?

You waited for said trigger to turn on as you continued to stare at Bucky, praying that he would remain the man you loved, not feared.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes, and your mind stayed in a state of adoration as you admired the peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

As if sensing your intense gaze, Bucky began to stir, body shifting, arm snaking its way around your waist-

He froze, realizing he wasn’t alone as his eyes shot open, looking over at you, hesitation painted across his face. 

“Morning, Beefcake,” you said, trying to make your voice as comforting as possible.

He licked his lips, eyes scanning yours. “Morning, Sweetheart. How…how are you feeling?”

You responded by crushing your lips to his, hand gripping the back of his neck for support. Bucky let out a moan of relief, pulling you flush against him.

The two of you never slept apart from each other again.

“You’re late for watch, you know,” you chided as Bucky settled himself by your side, gaze following yours to look at the rain. 

He rolled his eyes, fingers sneaking down to tickle your waist and you squealed. 

“I’m never late, Sweetheart, you’re just always annoyingly early.”

You gave him your best mischievous grin. “I know, it’s just that I love busting your balls, Beefcake.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he grumbled, smile still on his face.

You scrunched your nose at him before leaning forward for a kiss. When you pulled back, your eyes went to the bite mark on his neck and you grimaced. “How’d it go?”

Bucky shrugged, fingers grazing over the newly-formed scar that matched yours. “Same as always. Banner says that my blood is showing up as normal. I’ve officially been given the clean, zombie-free bill of health.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief. “Good,” was all you could think to say.

Bucky pulled you closer to him and kissed your brow. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, baby.”

You smacked his metal arm with a scoff. “As if I’d ever want to be rid of you.”

“You better not!” he laughed. “Cause I don’t plan on ever leaving your side.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you looked up to meet that beautiful cerulean gaze. “Promise?”

He kissed the bridge of your nose. “Promise.”

Your romantic moment was cut off by a sudden squeal, and you both jerked your heads over to the camp in alarm, only to find that Morgan had thrown a handful of mud at Billy and was now running for her life as he chased her, preparing to strike back.

The two of you chuckled at the chaos before you. “Good to see they’re settling in nicely,” Bucky remarked.

“Who knows the last time they were able to have fun and be so carefree.”

Bucky nodded. “Been a while since we had any newcomers, especially kids. It’s nice.”

“Do you think they’ll stick around?”

He shrugged. “You never know. At the end of the day it’s up to them and what they think is best for their family. But I can’t imagine them saying no to a semi-safe place where they can heal together.”

“This is the best place for that. Healing, that is,” you added with a wink, and Bucky smiled, squeezing you a little more tightly to him.

A few beats of silence passed as you continued watching the kids play below.

“Banner mentioned he wants to talk with us,” he said.

Your brows furrowed. “Did he say why?”

He shook his head. “Not really. He says he has an idea he wants to run by us. Some long-term project or whatever. I was thinking we could go tonight, after dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Actually,maybe we can talk to him tomorrow morning? You and I…we already have plans for tonight.”

Bucky’s lips turned downward in an intrigued expression. “Oh really?”

Heat rose to your face, knots growing in your stomach. “Well, I was kind of low-key planning to ask this super hot, grumpy pants with a heart of gold out on a date.”

His cheeks flushed a bright pink, but tried to keep his expression casual. “I sure hope you’re talking about me, Sweetheart.”

“What, is Yelena not available tonight?”

A loud, dramatic scoff escaped Bucky as you fell into a fit of giggles, and he tackled you to the ground playfully, peppering your face with a multitude of kisses, pinning you down.

“Alright, alright, fine!” you squealed. “I’ll take you on the damn date, Beefcake!”

He pulled back at the peace offering, face smug. “Pick me up at seven?”

You winked. “Wear that skimpy black dress you know I like.”

“Do you think I’ll get a kiss at the end of the night?” His lips lowered to hover over yours.

“Only if you behave,” you replied, suddenly breathless

He let out a low chuckle, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours. “Damn,” he murmured, “I know I can’t keep that promise around you.”

“Bummer,” you whispered, lifting your head just enough for your lips to finally meet.

“So anyways, I’m running through the woods as these giant dinosaurs in clown outfits chase after me. I finally managed to climb up a tree, but who’s at the top? Fucking Dum Dum with his giant bowl of soup smiling at me. And then I woke up.”

Yelena took a bite of green beans as you and Kate stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“Have you been sneaking sweets before bed, babe?” Kate asked.

The blond shook her head. “No.”

You crossed your arms and leaned them on the table. “Do you always have dreams like this, Lena?” 

Her lips turned downward as she considered the question. “The clown dinosaurs show up from time to time. But the Dum Dum thing is new….” she turned around and looked at Dum Dum, who caught her gaze, giving her his classic cheery smile and wave. She turned back around with a grimace, “...and slightly more unsettling.”

“Dum Dum is literally the nicest person in this entire camp,” Bucky remarked with a mouthful of bread. “And we literally just fought an entire evil empire and their hoard of flesh-eating zombies. How the hell can he be more unsettling than that?”

“Too much joy,” Yelena said, with what looked to be almost genuine fear in her eyes. “How can one person be so cheerful? In Russia, everyone was mad. Anger is what comforts me.”

“Don’t worry, Lena, if Dum Dum ends up smiling at you to death, I’ll make him pay,” Kate said, resting a reassuring hand on her girlfriend’s leg and kissing her cheek.

“Why does Yelena look like she’s just been to hell and back?” Druig asked, walking up to the table and resting his food tray down to join the group. Before sitting down, he slid the chair next to his back as Makkari - one of the new additions to camp after Hydra’s downfall - took the seat, her smile growing as she looked at Druig. She moved her hand from her chin out in front of her to sign  thank you.

The right corner of his mouth twitched as he mirrored her gesture. 

What had struck you most about Makkari upon meeting her was that – though she was barely able to stand from all of the injuries she sustained the day of the explosion – she was always there to lend a helping hand to someone who needed it, even if that meant holding someone else up for miles when she could barely do it for herself.

The other thing you noticed immediately was the way Druig’s eyes always found their way to her. She could be dozens of feet away and yet he always knew exactly where she was. And every time they locked eyes, she would lift her chin up at him with a smile, and the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly as he lifted his own chin up.

“She’s scared of Dum Dum,” you replied, giving your blond best friend a quick wink as she glared at you. 

“Am not,” she grumbled, and Kate wrapped her arm around her in support, biting back a smile.

“Not what?” Sersi asked as she approached, taking the seat next to you and bumping her arm against yours in hello.

“Afraid of Dum Dum,” Druig responded, and Yelena growled as the rest of the group burst into a fit of laughter.

“Sounds like you lot are having fun over there!” Dum Dum called out. “What’s got the gang in such a fit of giggles?”

“It’s cause she’s afraid of y-” Bucky shouted.

“NOTHING’S HAPPENING OKAY LET’S JUST LET IT GO,” Yelena yelled over Bucky, but there was now a smile forming on her face as she began to see the ridiculousness of the conversation, and you felt tears streaming down your eyes from laughing so hard. 

You looked around the table, at the people who meant the most to you all smiling and laughing, as if you hadn’t survived the worst moments of your life, as if your lives weren’t at risk every second of every day.

These were the people who fought for you even when you thought you weren’t worth fighting for, who risked their lives to bring you our of captivity and back home with them. 

And you knew that they’d do it all again in a heartbeat if needed, just as you would for them.

It would be naive for you not to think that there would be even worse moments ahead, that terrible things were bound to happen, that there would be days when you couldn’t remember the last time you laughed.

Those moments would still come, but as long as you could also have these moments, you knew that you could survive anything.

“Alright, Sweetheart,” Bucky said as you led him out of the cafeteria to the location of your date. “Can I get any sort of hint as to where you’re taking me?”

You grabbed his hand. “Not a chance, but I’m sure you’ll get the idea the closer we get to our destination.”

He let out a huff in response and you glared up at him. “So dramatic, Beefcake. We’ll be there soon, so don’t get your pants all up in a tizzy.”

Another grumble, but his lips quirked up and you felt his thumb move along your knuckles.

Though you were joking, there was a bundle of nerves wreaking havoc in your stomach as you headed to the building with the science lab and library, leading Bucky to the semi-hidden  door tucked in the back.

You stopped at the door, looking up at his confused expression.

“Months ago, you pulled off the most romantic gesture I could have ever asked for, and I completely ruined it, then put you through absolute hell for a really, really long time.” Tears pricked your eyes and you looked down at the ground in shame thinking back to the night you left. “I know that at the time, I thought what I was doing was the right thing, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for putting you through all that pain.”

“Sweetheart-” he began to say, and you looked back up to meet his watery eyes, shaking your head to cut him off as your hand went to the knob, slowly turning it and pushing open the door to reveal a familiar display.

Amber lights creating a soft glow throughout the room, a couch in the middle, a projector behind it, with a DVD case of a movie based on a book that brought you two together so long ago.

Though you had a feeling Bucky had known what was coming, you still felt a small flutter in your chest when his breath hitched.

“I wanted to give that night back to you, rewrite it so that we got the moment we deserved to share. One where two people go on a date and be all romantic and shit and one person doesn’t drug their partner and run away into the night.”

Bucky breathed out a small laugh, a tear running down his cheek.

You moved to wipe it away.

“You mean…everything to me, Bucky Barnes. You’re the most important person in my life, the one who owns my soul. If I could give you the world I would, if you’d let me. For now, I can only give you a Twilight movie date, and I hope that that’s enough-”

Unable to control himself any longer, Bucky jumped forward, wrapping his arms around the small of your back and pulling you close until your lips collided together, lifting you up in the air. 

You clung to him for support as your head grew dizzy from the taste of him, just as it always did. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get over the feeling of kissing Bucky, how his lips both kept you grounded and made you feel you were flying at the same time. The hunger you felt, never satisfied when the kiss finally came to an end due to you both being lightheaded from the lack of air. 

When that moment happened now, and he pulled away, there was a brightness in his eyes as he stared into yours, and you knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips.

“I love you, Y/n.”

It was the first time he had said it since that night in the woods, when they were spoken with desperation and grief, a moment where both of you thought it would be the end.

Now, as he said it, it felt like a true beginning.

“And I love you, Bucky,” you said in return. It felt so good to finally say that you said it again against his lips as he pulled you closer. 

After 15 or so more I love you’s from both of you, Bucky reluctantly lowered you to the ground and the two of you made your way to the couch.

“I promise I’m not going to drug the wine this time,” you said as you handed him a glass. “Gotta make sure you enjoy the hell out of this vampire romance.”

“You’re too good to me, Sweetheart,” he responded, taking a sip without hesitation as a sign of complete trust toward you, and you almost started crying again at the gesture.

After puttering around getting everything situated, you crawled into Bucky’s arms, head resting within the crook of his shoulder.

“Hey,” Bucky said, and you raised your head to look at him. “I love you.”

You smiled. “God, Beefcake, you’re such a sap.” He let out a low, rumbly chuckle, rolling his eyes.”Hey,” you said, and his gaze went back to you. “I love you, too.”

He leaned forward for another kiss before you grabbed the projector remote, pressing play.

Then, for the first time ever, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse…

You and Bucky Barnes went on a date.

Epilogue

[lord-explosion-baku]

Compromise

Yandere Alpha!Aizawa x omega!reader

Warnings: omegaverse fuckery, yandere, dark themes, very slight daddy kink, very slight breeding kink, PiNk NiPpLeS

A/N: I wrote this for a friend and that friend is me. Entirely self indulgent which is wack because usually when I write AOB shit I have the shield of it being a request up. Usually I try to stray away from describing things about skin and bodies for self-inserts, but I did a little bit for this one. Anyways, have some nasty trash

(DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT ASKING FOR MY PERMISSION)

Aizawa was a patient and experienced man. He was no stranger to having a cat he rescued off the street become reclusive in his domain— only making appearances when they needed to eat, drink, and relieve themselves, so it was not too alarming when he brought you, a criminal vigilante, back to his home and you had reacted similarly. He wasn’t worried. He figured that as an omega, he’d find you deprived and wanton sooner or later.

He understood that you needed your space. It surely had to be a bit of a culture shock to you for the first couple of days or weeks, and he certainly knew that you’d need your time to cool off after being plucked so suddenly off the streets like you were. The last thing Aizawa wanted was for you to hate him, so at first he had repressed his need to claim you immediately in order to help you acclimate to your new environment. He was fervently against forcing himself on you, even if his nature told him that it was his right.

Before you became a suitable partner, you had to be his pet. You had to be his comfortable pet.

So he left you alone in the room he’d set up for you, only hoping that you’d come out to visit him on your own accord before you fell into your first heat in your new home. Your stubborn heart never showed its face, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the erasure hero. If anything, your petulance stirred him. It beckoned him.

The day finally came when you had your first heat, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to it. It was only natural for Aizawa to be drawn to your room when he caught a whiff of that delectable scent, that musty aroma that was so indisputably you, that it got him hard as a rock instantaneously. Like a moth to a flame, he found and rescued you from your own aching turmoil. The alpha claimed you, and marked you, and fucked you, and loved you, until you were nothing but a messy pile of satisfied lust melded into the guest room sheets, panting and writhing and thanking him for taking very good care of you. You were soft and warm and you fit around him perfectly. You were heaven on earth, crying into his shoulder, clawing at his back, begging for him to give more, more, more, and he did, and you wailed and came for him over and over until you inevitably passed out— splayed on the bed all cute and tuckered out and his. He had been elated.

He had hoped that after the first time he mated with you, you’d be more personable. However, after the fifth heat, Aizawa had to admit that your indomitability would not be broken so easily. He figured that he was spoiling you— letting you stay hidden and alone for as long as you wanted until your heat broke and you could use him for the one thing you’d value him for as an omega. That was the thing. He was letting you use him, and though that may have made you his comfortable pet, that didn’t further your advancement into becoming a suitable partner; it just made you a spoiled princess. He just had to let you know that though a princess you may be, you were his. He’d spoil you on his own terms, and that was only after you learned who held the reigns under his roof.

Six hours had passed since he first caught your scent. You were early this month, which was a pleasant surprise. That could’ve been because of your change in diet; Aizawa had been feeding you lean meat rather than packaged protein in hopes of getting you to act a little more congenial, but that hadn’t changed your mood much. You still glared and recoiled whenever he entered the room, which was nothing compared to the storm of swears you had whirled at him while trying to claw his eyes out when he first brought you to the condo. Still, he’d prefer that you at least thanked him for feeding you and making sure you had plenty of blankets to sleep with at night.

But now that you were in heat— now that you were needy, and desperate, and hungry for an alpha, Aizawa knew that dealing with your less-than-pleasant mood would be worth it. However, this month, he would not come to your aid when he caught the first signs of you torture. He’d have you wait for however long he could stomach it

Aizawa was surprised when you finally came out to the living room.

What Aizawa was expecting was an insolent omega with a potent glower on her face— that consistent brat’s disposition. What he wasn’t expecting was that the brat was going to be wearing one of his long sleeved shirts with nothing but her panties underneath, and he didn’t expect it to be so fucking cute. Did you miss his scent? Was his shirt some sort of comfort object to you?

You were becoming such a good girl.

A sheen of your own need coated your thighs and your potent aroma wafted around the living room. It was nearly unbearable. Aizawa didn’t bother to hide the raging tent in his pants. He wanted you to know that he smelled you, that he wanted you, and that it was no mistake that you had been neglected for hours. You were being punished and you should know. He lifted a singular brow, prompting you to speak.

Instead of begging for him immediately like he expected you to, you surprised him for the second time with an accusation:

“You are being cruel.”

Your voice was hoarse, as if you’d been crying, or moaning, or both, and Aizawa loved it. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he extended his arm out, beckoning you to climb into his lap, and like an obedient little bitch, you did.

Your knees were on either side of one of his thick thighs, one of your hands were pulling pathetically at the shoulder of his shirt while the other pressed lightly to his neck. Shouta felt a shudder climb up his spine when you squeezed your legs together and he gave his own leg and experimental bump, just to watch you clench your teeth together and hiss.

You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. Aizawa took you in, pressing his nose to your hair, relishing the mixed aroma of your shampoo, your sweat, and your pheromone. You gave out a wanton little whimper when he pressed his hand lightly to the small of your back. Aizawa bumped his leg again, and you shuddered against him, letting out the smallest sigh. Noisy baby girl.

You were everything lovely in this world— his little rose.

“Sadist,” you accused, slowly rolling your hips as you began riding his thigh. Your nails dug into his shoulder when he gave you another bump. You growled, but it was no more threatening than a hiss of a kitten.

Aizawa smirked against your hair. Even the loveliest of roses had their thorns.

“How do you figure?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone, because his true nature when he got intimate was no secret to him nor you— not that you objected to it… in the moment. “I haven’t laid a finger on you.”

He slid his large hands down your waist to your smooth, bare thighs. Your body flushed with warmth, and Aizawa could tell that you felt his cock pulsate against your leg by how your cheeks burned a deeper shade of lustful red.

“You’re… neglecting me,” you murmured into his chest.

Aizawa tutted at you and you hummed against him. It was baffling how similar you were to an actual pampered cat.

“Neglecting,” he echoed, baleful and bemused while still oddly roused by how you were trying to appeal to his alpha ethos. “Do I not bring you food when you are hungry? Water when you’re thirsty? Have I not invited you to stay with me in a loving home that you’re free to roam on your own accord only to leave you be when you choose to stay shut away in the lonely room?”

You peeled your head away and scowled down at him. Your plush lips pursed in a way that thrilled Aizawa. His eyelids grew heavy as he imagined pushing his fingers between your them while his cock plunged deep into your soaking, needy, little omega cunt. God, how he missed feeling your walls tighten around him. He thought about what it was like being inside you all the damn time, and it was torture knowing that you were a only a room away from him, and that he could have you at any time so easily, but you’d never be able to love him like he wanted you to if he commanded you to fuck him. Even now, waiting this long while he knew you’d let him in easily, but knowing he had a point to prove, was absolute torture. If patience was a virtue, Aizawa was a goddamn saint.

Trembling, you said, “you kidnapped me, actually. That’s not as loving as you might think, Eraser.”

“No, sweetheart.” Aizawa brought his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your lips, and they parted readily for him. Your mouth wrapped around him as you hummed tentatively around his thumb. You suckled on him with buzzing warmth, trying to sway him away from having a serious conversation, because it was obvious that right now, you did not want to talk about your ‘kidnapping’; you wanted Aizawa to rut you. “I saved you.”

Aizawa pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop! and with the same hand, he proceeded to squeeze your cheeks together. “And you’ve not been very gracious.”

Aizawa could see a fire building up in your eyes. The carnal side of him wanted you to lash out, just so he could push you onto the floor, head down, ass up, and teach you some goddamn manners, but he had to tell himself that you needed to learn. This thought waged war against the sudden realization that his thigh was warm and wet with your lust, and that was quickly pushing the limits of his resolve. He didn’t think that you even knew you were scenting him, which might’ve made that all the more hot.

You’re hurting, he thought to himself. You’re hurting and you want him. You want to be pumped full of his seed, to be bred like a blue ribbon bitch. You want him to use you.

Aizawa could feel his blood rushing while you reached around his head to pull his hair tie out, letting his messy black mop drape over his face. Your lovely hands softly grasped his wrist and with a voice too damn sweet for your own damn good, you asked, “what do you want?”

“For you to be a good girl.”

“I— I’m here, aren’t I?” You asked, as if that would suffice. In retrospect, it would, but Aizawa wanted to be greedy with you. He wanted much more.

So he lied. “That’s not enough, princess.”

“God, please, tell me what I need to do for you to… to fuck me. This is excruciating!”

“Oh. Is my little kitten in heat?” Aizawa moved his hand from your cheeks, down to your warm neck and squeezed. “Is that why she’s finally crawled out of her hideaway?”

Aizawa grabbed the back of your head and you gasped. Your hands slid down to below your stomach, but Aizawa yanked on your hair, causing you to cry out and grasp at his arms before you could dip your treacherous hands into your ptanties. He watched as your nipples hardened harshly through his shirt that really did fit you well.

You whispered out a cute little, “yes,” as Aizawa pushed the shirt up to reveal the tender, pink tits he’d been missing for weeks. Licking his lips, Aizawa experimentally pinched one of your swollen buds between his middle and index fingers as he palmed your sore, swollen breasts. You moaned as you rubbed yourself harder onto his thigh, as if that would be enough to get you off, though it clearly wasn’t by your hushed pleas for any kind of relief. Aizawa ached. He could feel his own pre-cum dribbling out of his cock every time you barely brushed against him.

“Poor baby,” Aizawa cooed before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your body shook while his tongue swirled around you. You placed your hands on the top of his head and began kneading your fingertips through your hair. Aizawa groaned, the reverberations in his chest deepening, the edges of his teeth teasing your sensitive bud.

“Eraser,” you mewled, because you were a vigilante criminal first and foremost, then with another tug, you warbled out a, “daddy,” because you wanted to stir him on a crueler, more personal level, and to tip the bucket over, you knitted your fingers into the back of his head, and pleaded, “alphaahhah.”

Aizawa pulled back and growled, ripping his shirt up and off your shoulders. In nothing but your panties, your entire body flushed in either embarrassment or asoursal— possibly both. Aizawa wanted to worship every inch of you.

You tried to kiss him then, but Aizawa wasn’t having it— jerking his head away just enough so your lips were a hair away from his. You groaned defiantly, then pushed your face past his so his nose was lodged against your neck, below your scent glands. Since Aizawa was having a fine time teasing you, he rolled his tongue up your neck, just to hear your voice catch in a pathetic squeak that set every single nerve ending in his entire body aflame. This was sadomasochism in its prime. Aizawa enjoyed it immensely.

“I’ll come out more— a couple times a week.” You promised desperately, catching that Aizawa wanted to bargain with you.

“Not enough,” his gruff whisper against your skin sent ripples of goosebumps across your arms. “Though I love looking at my little pet, I want to be able to touch her, to hold her, to hear about her day. I’m going to need more from her. Do you understand?”

You paused. Mirthless. Shaken. His. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He asked, before giving you another long lick.

“Yes-“ of all the names he’d like to hear from you— sir, alpha, Shouta, Eraserhead, you chose, “- daddy.” While in this state, your lustful, breathy sighs was the only air he needed for his lungs and hearing you call him daddy woke up something covertly instinctual in him. Your name was his heartbeat.

Baby girl. Baby girl.

“I can… join you for breakfast or dinner on the weekends… when you have time.”

“-I can make the time,” Aizawa cut in, murmuring against your skin. “Go on.”

You groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you want, Eraser! I can’t be your little housewife!”

Aizawa didn’t miss a beat. He was used to your outbursts, even when they were a bit too sudden. He also knew that when he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulders, you would moan and pull in his hair. When you did, all he had to do was grab your wrists, hold them above your shoulders, and watch you become a panting mess.

Housewife? As if Aizawa wanted you to be so tame. Someone to cook and clean for him? The concept was cute, but that wasn’t on brand with the woman he loved. Aizawa knew who you were, and that was not a doting slave, although the thought of you in an apron and nothing else besides that apron was an exciting concept.

“I don’t want a housewife, kitten. I want a mate.”

Your face flushed. Aizawa’s cock throbbed between your wet thighs. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you kept pushing yourself against him, and god could he not wait another agonizing second of not being inside of you. He was about to let up— give in, give you what you both wanted, and then try again the next time you were desperate for him. He was about to, but then you hit him with a deal.

A myriad of promises escaped your lips, each richer than the last. Some of them were cute, domesticated bullshit that tickled Aizawa’s interest: movie nights, a kiss in the morning, brushing teeth together. Others tickled Aizawa in a different way: massages, surprise blowjobs, something concerning a collar and a leash.

Before he knew it, Aizawa was grinning. He couldn’t say that any of the ideas you spouted in your time of need, but in all honesty, the promise to try was really all he needed.

“I think we might be in business,” he said, and his grin turned into a kiss, and that kiss turned into his tongue brushing against yours, and his enjoying the taste of your moan turned into him ridding himself of the sweats that kept him from you.

The head of Aizawa’s cock twitched and glistened, wet with urgent desire. His stomach tightened when he grasped his throbbing base. You gave him a hungry look. “You wanna prove to me you'll be my good girl?” he purred, appraising you. You bit your lip and nodded attentively, ready to take any request he sent your way. “Then why don’t you ride daddy’s cock?.”

You laughed then. It was a sort of short, relieved kind of laugh that was more of a thank you than anything else— a yes, sir, anything you say, grateful for this opportunity, sir sort of noise.

You pulled your soaking panties to the side and formed a gyre with your hips, moving in circles, coating Aizawa’s cock in your slick. You licked your lips as his cock head teased your saturated slit. You hummed, practically quivering from the idea of having his cock push into you and it took everything out of Aizawa not to grab on to your hips and force you down on him. He needed to enjoy the show before being brute.

You dipped down onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. Aizawa flexed his jaw, trying hard to hold onto the last remaining thread of his restraint. You locked your hand onto the back of his neck and eased yourself off of him— you hadn’t gotten even half of his length inside of you, but still your face tensed in pained pleasure as you rolled back down his shaft.

“Fuck. Sho. I can’t-!”

“What is it, baby girl? Is daddy’s cock too big for you to work with on your own?”

You gave him a withering look. You locked your fingers into his hair and forced your lips back on his. He chuckled lowly against your kiss, palming your breasts as you began to ride him.

Aizawa groaned inwardly because fuck, you felt so good rhythmically sliding up and down his cock— so warm, so sloppy, so tight— fuck, so tight that you couldn’t fit all of him in you. You moved your ass so well that Aizawa was surprised he hadn’t made you ride him before. Of course, every time the two of you had gotten intimate (intimate being being Aizawa’s word of choice because he loved you too damn much) in the past, it's always been rushed, carnal, and desperate. It didn’t help that Aizawa liked to take the reigns, and that fact battled with Aizawa’s desire to watch you move so fluently, so sensuously on top of him. You were a marvel to witness, and if he could, he’d savor this moment forever, but his corporal instincts took over.

Aizawa gripped onto your hips. Your pupils dilated.

Aizawa pulled you down onto him and when your mouth fell open this time, a high yip rang out from the back of your throat. He bucked his hips up, hitting you hard and deep each time you came down on him. You whimpered and mewled, digging your nails into his skin as your lust and need rolled down onto his thighs.

“Such pretty noises, kitten.“ he pulled your head back to him so his lips were against your ear. “I’m gonna ruin your little cunt, baby girl. How do you like that idea?”

“Hnngggg. Yes, daddy, please, please.”

Aizawa smirked. Good girl.

He bit your neck and you squeezed around him. He wrapped his arms around your body and stood up, moving you to the arm of the couch. You wrapped your legs around him, locking them around his hips with a grin Aizawa didn’t think you knew you had on. Fingers pulled on skin as he pistoned his hips, slapping into your fast and hard, filling the room with slaps and squelching and the sounds of you hissing and moaning and pleading for more. His skin turned red where you scraped your nails across, hopelessly trying to pull him more into you, and so he did.

He pushed himself to his hilt and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Jesus Christ if you weren’t the most enchanting fucking creature on this plain earth. Aizawa pushed your shoulders back so you laid flat on your back with your legs hanging off the couch. He admired your stomach as his cock pressed against it, hitting your spot again and again, eliciting sweet music from his precious fucktoy.

Your pussy fluttered as your sputtered out nonsensensical praises for your alpha— the only man that could take care of you, the only man that would ever touch you again.

“Feel good, baby?” Aizawa hissed through gritted teeth as the base of his cock began to inflate. “You like it when I take care of you?”

You were lost to your words, only able to whimper back at him, clutching at the couch cushions with trembling fingers.

“C’mon girl, I know you can handle much more than this.”

“Shooutah,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut as two thick tears rolled off your cheeks. “Pleaaase.”

“What is it, little kitty? Use your words.”

“I wanna make you a daddy,” you cried, your toes curling, your body shaking. Aizawa growled, his vision sharpening, his cock pulsating. You crooned, “I wanna have your baby. Please— please! ”

Aizawa couldn’t believe his ears. His perfect little mate playing with his instincts like that, just for a good fuck? Naughty kitten. He hunched over the couch, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly, forcing you to look at your mate. You squeaked, brows furrowing, breath faltering. You were giving him such a pretty and pathetic look. He couldn’t stand it.

Aizawa felt his knot swell all the way up when his lips once again collided with yours. You spasmed around him, and the added sensation of the sweet reverberations of your moans against his lips blew him away.

Aizawa could forgive you for making empty promises every now and again, but if you were going to say something so dangerous while he rutted into you, he might have to teach you to choose your worlds a little more carefully his way.

His knot locked you into place. His cock throbbed intensely as ropes of thick, hot cum lined your quivering cunt walls. Aizawa groaned when you howled, the two of you harmonized and synced, bonded to each other once again. Elation coursed through his veins, and he could tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face, he could tell you were feeling the same way.

Trapped in each other’s daze, Aizawa couldn’t be happier stuck to you like this. He wove his fingers through your sweaty hair and kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, and your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, because he couldn’t lie to you like this. You said nothing back, because you couldn’t lie either. It bothered Aizawa, but not enough to ruin his good mood. You didn’t love him yet because you didn’t know him. If you were true to your word and spent more time with him, letting him show you that the two of you were each other’s perfect mates, that could change. It would change.

At least when the swelling went down, and Aizawa could lay back on the couch, you curled against him and let him play with your hair. The two of you laid entwined together for a long while. Aizawa was content having you in his arms, but when your breathing grew heavier and he knew you were asleep, he was glad to be carrying you back to bed, his bed, where you’d be sleeping in from now on.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 

[missmouse43]

Falling For You

Summary: Still stranded on Poguelandia and having to survive on their own, JJ is determined to collect coconuts for his friends. It goes about as well as Kiara expected.

Pairing: JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera

Words: 2.9k

Read on: AO3

A/N: AHHH! My second Jiara fic is officially done! This was actually written a lot faster than I normally write so obviously I am VERY excited for S3 :P I just can’t escape the Poguelandia feels. I wrote this because this is exactly the kind of romantic tension build-up I hope to see while they’re stranded on the island. 

Enjoy!

“Hey, Jay?” Kiara used her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding Caribbean sun as she looked up towards the sky and called out to get the blond boy’s attention.

 JJ answered without actually looking down at her, too preoccupied with the task at hand. “Sup?”

“Whatcha doing?” Kiara asked, and contrary to her sing-song voice she actually wasn’t as laid back as she appeared. Like, at all.

It had been two days since the pogues became stranded on the island and surprisingly things were going well. They had set up a makeshift camp further up the beach and managed to build a pretty decent looking shelter to keep them protected at night while they slept. Boiling water wasn’t an issue, JJ was catching enough fish for them to not go hungry for an entire week, and foraging the island had produced more than enough fruit to keep them satiated while they waited for rescue.

Of course there were downsides to being stranded in the middle of the ocean—never knowing whether or not rescue was actually coming being the most glaringly obvious one, as well as a lack of indoor plumbing. God, what Kiara wouldn’t do for a shower right now. There was never a time where she didn't have sand in all the wrong places. The shitty water pressure at the château was looking better and better by the hour. 

Then, of course, there was the whole matter of facing the inevitable shit show waiting back home for them in the Outer Banks when (or if) they did manage to get off this island. Kiara had planted herself firmly on the side of denial whenever the thought of confronting her parents again crossed her mind. If she thought about their distraught and disappointed faces too long it started to make her feel sick to her stomach.

So Kiara kept herself busy with different tasks throughout the days to keep her mind from wandering to less than pleasant thoughts.

And the task she had assigned herself right now?

Keeping an eye on JJ.

This decision to babysit the most unpredictable of the pogues is how Kiara found herself wandering around a bend in the shoreline out of sight from the others only to find the blond boy climbing his way up the long, slanted trunk of a palm tree rooted in some nearby foliage. 

“Coconuts!” JJ shouted down to her, keeping his eye on the prize more than several feet away from him. “I’m getting me some coconuts,” he said a little quieter to himself, more determined, perhaps to hype himself up, but Kiara still heard him. She figured out pretty quickly after that that this was about a lot more than just coconuts.

Her gaze instinctively wandered to the top of the tree to see exactly what JJ was after tucked under a couple of palm leaves. There were four coconuts in total. Two of them were dishearteningly small, the third just slightly bigger than the first and second, and the last one was a fairly decent size. It would be a welcomed change in their diet to add some variety. There wasn’t enough for all of them to have their own but they could make due by sharing. It was the only way they had been surviving out here.

Still—that wasn’t Kiara’s main concern at the moment.

“Okay. Follow up question,” Kiara continued, trying not to cringe as JJ’s bare feet scraped along the rough bark of the tree as he inched himself forward. “Could you maybe try not to kill yourself for, like, a day? Just one day.”

She was using that deceptively cavalier tone she would often fall back on when expressing her concern for JJ when he was doing something potentially dangerous, knowing full well there was no hope at all in getting him to change his mind once he had made it up to do the potentially dangerous thing.

The palm tree looked like it could be anywhere from 20 to 30ft long in total but it was hard to tell in the way it was bending towards the open waters of the ocean. Kiara estimated it would be about a 10ft fall at the highest points. The good news was JJ was far out enough along the trunk that if he did fall he’d have the soft sand on the beach to land on. The bad news was it was entirely plausible that JJ—because he was JJ— would find a way to land directly on his head, rendering the cushy sand completely useless.

Deep down Kiara knew she was probably being silly. Growing up she had seen JJ climb plenty of old, rotted trees that were in far worse condition than the one he was bear hugging right now. The issue wasn’t whether or not JJ was capable of making the climb (that much was a given), but after almost losing him a few days ago Kiara couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to shelter JJ from the world around him. She had always been protective of her boys and JJ especially because of what a loose cannon he could be, so in some aspects it was a familiar instinct.

But something was different now.

In the span of over just 48 hours Kiara had become increasingly more anxious than what was probably necessary when the blond boy would wander off around the Island on his own to do God knows what without telling anybody. Or when JJ didn’t come back to camp before it got dark last night and Kiara was legitimately starting to panic; coming up with all these worse case scenarios in her head until JJ came sauntering up the beach minutes later with a grin plastered on his face and a new story to tell.

Everything between them felt heightened now, and Kiara tried to rationalize her behaviour by telling herself that that’s just what happens when you go through a traumatic experience with someone close to you. It wasn’t the same as John B and Sarah disappearing in the storm, or even Pope with the wasp stings.

Those moments had been horrendous and scarring events to have lived through and Kiara felt anxiety twist in her chest even just thinking about it. But she and JJ had went through the horror of almost drowning together. She was right there with him, pleading with him, holding him for every terrifying and hopeless moment of it.

That was an experience the two of them shared that no one else could possibly understand. Kiara cared about him so much, and they had already been beaten down worse than ever before. She couldn’t bear the thought of something else happening to him.

So Kiara worried. And JJ seemed to be none the wiser.

Dumbass.

“Evolution is on my side, Kie! I can feel the blood of our primate brothers and sisters flowing through me. I got this!” JJ predictably brushed off her concerns as he slid forward another arm’s length. His face was red and he was sweating either from the sun beating down on him or the exertion; maybe a combination of the two.

“You comparing yourself to an ape—while objectively accurate and hilarious—is not the reassurance you think it is,” Kiara responded dryly.

JJ shimmied forward again and Kiara could start to hear him breathing a little heavier now. When he paused for a moment to shake out the fatigue in his arms, Kiara cast a glance over her shoulder to see if any of their friends were within sight before quickly turning back.

“Couldn’t you have at least waited until John B could spot you for when you inevitably fall and break your neck? If I try to catch you I will literally snap in half." Even as she said this Kiara found herself subconsciously taking a step closer. JJ circled his arms around the trunk as best he could and for the first time genuinely struggled to pull himself forward.

“Trying to concentrate here, Kie!” he grunted as his body swayed precariously to one side and then the other as he tried to get his feet situated flat on either side of the trunk for an extra push.

Kiara knew when to bite her tongue and kept quiet while JJ slowly but surely continued to make progress towards his goal. Just as Kiara was sure JJ had gotten back into the push-pull rhythm of his climbing strategy, his left foot suddenly slid out from under him and off the bark, causing his entire body to abruptly jerk to the same side.

Panicked reflexes kicked in and JJ just barely managed to keep himself from falling by squeezing his arms and pushing his chest to the tree as tightly as he could while using his other leg as a counter balance.

That still didn’t stop Kiara from jumping and nearly having a heart attack though.

“Be careful!” she hissed up at him.

JJ was clearly a bit rattled by the near free fall, but he swallowed it down and played it off by peering down at her with a twitchy smile. Kiara tried not to hold her breath as JJ climbed the last few feet towards the top of the palm tree and reached out a hand to grab one of the hard outer shells of the coconuts.

“And Bingo was his name-o!” JJ hooted excitedly as he pulled himself up to straddle the trunk; his earlier apprehension entirely forgotten now. “Hot potato coming down!”

One by one JJ dropped the coconuts down onto the sand in front of Kiara’s feet, and after so many days of losing it actually felt amazing to finally have a win. It was a small victory, but still worth celebrating.

“Holy shit!” Kiara exclaimed. “You actually did it!”

JJ leaned over to look at her face; a cocky grin curving his lips. “You gotta start learnin’ to have some faith in me, Carrera! Your life would be so much easier!”

Kiara let out a joyful laugh as JJ—much more confident now—started to work his way backwards down the tree trunk. He moved quickly and efficiently, but Kiara sobered up enough to offer a quick word of caution. “Alright Tarzan. Good job. Now please just come back down. Carefully.”

“See, the trick is you gotta reverse-worm your way down to protect the family jewels!” JJ explained while barely breaking stride.

Kiara’s face twisted into confusion. “That’s… not at all relevant to me but I’ll pass that information along to the boys, thanks.”

They once again fell into a silence that wasn’t so heavy this time, and Kiara took the moment of calm as an opportunity to admire the boy in front of her. The way the muscles in his arms and legs tensed and rippled under tanned skin as he moved. The way his blond hair had turned almost platinum under the incessant rays of the sun. The concentrated curve of his brows and the sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

He couldn’t possibly be comfortable in the position he was in, and yet Kiara saw something irrefutably lighter in the way he carried himself; something proud and childlike in spirit. Out here, stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere with their little family of misfits, JJ wasn’t burdened by his past or a reputation that precedes him. He was allowed to embrace every part of himself he had been forced to hide or bury in order to survive all these years.

Despite everything they had gone through he was thriving; as a provider, as a protector, as an adventurer. Kiara didn’t know how he did it. JJ had never looked more in his element than he did right now. This was the best possible JJ there could be. It’s like he belonged here. 

He was free.

He was happy.

He was mesmerizing.

Kiara had never seen a more attractive version of him.

“You’re kind of amazing out here, you know?” The words slipped out surprisingly easy, and because she meant them from the deepest parts of her heart, Kiara didn’t allow herself to second guess them.

JJ was a little more than halfway to the ground when his head comically snapped to look down at her with the widest, crystal blue eyes. “What? OH SHIIIIII—!”

Within seconds JJ’s grip on the tree loosened and then he was falling. Kiara heard a gasp leave her mouth as JJ’s body came down on the opposite side of the tree to her in a quick flash. Then he was on the ground.

JJ landed on his back and felt the air get knocked out of his lungs from the impact. For a moment he laid there in the sand, dazed and perfectly still staring up at the stretching, cloudless sky above. His equilibrium had been violently altered in the blink of an eye. JJ was more concerned with getting his bearings back than assessing any possible injuries.

“JJ!”

Suddenly Kiara was right there by his side on her knees in the sand leaning over him. “Hey! JJ!” she yelled with a tremble in her voice, desperate for some indication that he wasn’t hurt.

JJ blinked a few times in rapid succession to clear some of the white spots from his vision. Then, as he slowly started to come to the realization that he was fine (if not a little sore), he focused in on the fearful brown eyes rapidly darting over his face.

“You’re a jinx,” JJ deadpanned.

A relieved little laugh bubbled up out of Kiara that seemed to surprise even her as her muscles instantly relaxed and she sagged deeper into the sand. “If anything I’m the reason you’re alive right now,” she said. “I’m a good luck charm.”

JJ hummed distractedly as Kiara placed a light hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head?” Her voice was a tender whisper now and her concern was achingly sincere.

Staring up at her soft, imploring face that only had eyes for him, framed by a head of dark curls with the sun shining impossibly brighter than it ever had before behind her head, JJ was left breathless all over again.

JJ always knew Kiara was gorgeous—anyone with eyes and half a brain could see that—but right now she looked like a freaking sun-kissed Goddess without even trying to, and being on the receiving end of such beauty was waaaay too much for JJ’s simple (and slightly scrambled), brain to comprehend right now.

He was temporarily stunned into silence until he remembered that Kiara asked him a question.

“Uh, nah. Nope. I’m good. Sand broke my fall.”

A quiet, flustered chuckle died on his lips when Kiara tapped the side of his head with two fingers. “You were just knocked unconscious two days ago. I know you have a thick skull, but isn’t this a little much even for you?” Kiara smirked.

JJ levels her with a stern look. “Kie. Coconuts,” he insists, and Kiara fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“You’re lucky you didn’t land on those coconuts.”

Feeling a lot more stable, JJ pushed himself up into a sitting position and frowned at the scratchy feeling of sand sticking to his skin. He turned his head to check on Kiara and make sure she wasn’t still worried about him, but instead of reassuring her, JJ saw a hand coming towards his face and he froze.

Kiara’s knuckles brushed against his cheek, wiping away that stupid sand. The action is a lot more intimately affectionate than what JJ was normally used to receiving from her. It’s a lot to process right now, but he manages to hide any reaction well. When Kiara’s hand retreats and her finger tip accidentally grazes the corner of his bottom lip, JJ wonders if the zing of electricity that shoots through his body is a mutual sensation.

Once Kiara has moved back and given him the space he super probably needs (but not necessarily wants), JJ clears his throat to collect himself and starts to leer at her with that sly twinkle in his eyes. “So, you were saying? Something about me being amazing?”

JJ wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point, and that managed to crack a knowing smile out of Kiara. He was clearly fishing for compliments, but Kiara felt compelled to give credit where credit was due. Even if it did only inflate his ego.

“I just meant you’re good at all this deserted island survival stuff,” Kiara answered honestly. “Or at least you were until, well, splat.” She had to put her own twist on it for both their sakes; neither one of them excelled when it came to emotional vulnerability, but it was still the truth and it felt good to say it.

“I’ll take it,” the blond boy said with a boastful grin.

Yup. She’s really done it now.

JJ jumped back up to his feet with a new spring in his step and reached down to collect two of the forgotten coconuts that had started this whole thing into his arms. “Let’s get these babies back to camp,” he said.

Kiara couldn’t tell if he was excited about just the coconuts or something else entirely. She reached over to pickup the remaining two and stood up to start walking alongside JJ back down the beach towards their camp.

“I call dibs on the big one,” Kiara joked just to get a rise out of him.

JJ falls for the bait hook, line, and sinker.

“Excuse you. But I don’t see your ass imprinted in the sand over there—” The rest of JJ’s rant is drowned out by the sound of Kiara’s laughter.

Later, when the time comes to indulge in their new treat, JJ offers Kiara the biggest coconut.

They end up sharing it instead.

[dongofthewolf]

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light- Chapter 2

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Read chapter 1 here !

After your night with Abby you head down to the cafeteria again to grab some food, still convinced it was all a dream. It’s not until you recognize a familiar face from across the room that you realize it was real, and this time she’s not alone.

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, fluff, just a lot of gay panic tbh

The new chapter is finally here !! All the positive comments on the first one made me so happy so THANK YOU for those :))

BTW that gif of Abby... both eyes open no blink (O_O)

When you woke from your slumber you were almost positive that your encounter with Abby was merely a dream or a figment of your imagination. It was the first time since moving to the base that you hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat; nightmares filled with the echoes of clickers and that piercing sound of ammo clattering on the floor was not an uncommon occurrence. After spending those two dreadful days trapped in a bunker with nothing but a pocket knife and a small handgun, a good night's sleep was something you no longer expected. You shivered as you recalled that dark, cold, concrete room you had barricaded yourself in, awaiting your death with no food, water, or supplies of any kind. It wasn’t until you heard the crashing of pipe bombs in the above levels that you snapped out of your weakened state. The WLF had on a whim decided to clear the building you were hiding out in and saved you. Your rescue was a complete stroke of luck and you weren’t sure whether to be incredibly grateful or afraid for it.

Still groggy from your sleep, you hadn’t even realized the small piece of paper that had been slipped under your door. It was from a page in a notebook that had been ripped out, and on it was a small message in neat, military handwriting: “Had a lot of fun last night :) - A”.

“So it was real!” You thought. That absolute tank of a woman wasn’t just a product of a sleep deprived trip to the communal cafeteria; she was real and every fibre of your being hoped she had enjoyed last night as much as you did.

You neatly tucked the note into your copy of Pride and Prejudice before getting ready for the day (or more like afternoon since you had slept in). After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you slipped on your military issued combat boots and a light sweatshirt before leaving your dorm. 

It was still raining outside but luckily the WLF base wasn’t too chilly. Even when it snowed they always managed to maintain some modicum of heat, it seemed as though the wolves could always find ways around the pesky inconveniences of living in a post-apocalyptic world. You never really questioned it though and you knew better than to doubt Isaac’s methods. It’s not like you’ve actually met him or anything, but the stories that you had heard were enough to send a chill down your spine, and you knew that even if you did ask questions it’s not like anyone would answer them anyways.

Fortunately you hadn’t slept in past lunch because you were absolutely starving, so starving that even the shitty WLF base food was starting to smell like heaven. As you made your way into the cafeteria that was teeming with life, there was only one thing on your mind: devouring those damn burritos. Once you finally got some food you quickly sat down to demolish it, amazed at how so much happiness could be contained within the confines of a single bland tortilla and completely oblivious to the staring of a familiar pair of blue eyes from across the crowded room.

“Just talk to her already.” Manny said in a teasing tone.

Abby quickly snapped out of it “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”. 

Of course Abby knew what he was talking about; in your rush to completely annihilate those burritos you had failed to notice Abby sitting at a table a few feet away. Abby couldn’t explain it but her heart was racing, the same way it would if she were in combat with a hoard or some Scars. 

Manny rolled his eyes “Dude I’m not blind, you’ve been staring at her ever since she sat down. So who is she?”. He relished at the sight of Abby’s nervousness, he hadn’t seen her like this since back when she was still dating Owen.

“Huh? No hablo inglés.” Abby said sarcastically trying to get Manny off her back.

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to ask her myself.” Manny started to get up when Abby kicked his shins from under the table. Manny yelped in pain “Dude! What the hell?”.

“I will literally clock you in the face, sit your ass down right now.” Abby quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one noticed Manny writhing in pain. 

Manny chuckled then smiled that classic smug grin while he gripped his definitely-bruised shins “I knew it, someone’s got a crush.”.

“God you’re annoying, I should’ve let that clicker eat you last week.” Abby said in an annoyed tone as she fell back against her chair. Abby felt a tinge of remorse for kicking Manny like that, she knew that Manny probably wouldn’t have actually walked up to you; but she couldn’t have risked it. Abby looked up and noticed Manny’s expression had changed, afraid she overstepped with that last statement Abby was just about to apologize when Manny started.

“What the fuck Abby?! Why didn’t you tell me about this girl, you know I’m the best wing-man.” Manny was suddenly very intrigued, Abby had always been very secretive when it came to her love life so Manny jumped at the opportunity to become her certified dating coach. Plus, not only did Manny have his fair share of experience with women, he also just really wanted to see Abby less lonely. After Owen and Mel started dating along with Leah and Jordan, Abby was stuck constantly third-wheeling the entire group; Manny didn’t think she minded that much, but sometimes it hurt his heart to see her all alone.

“There’s nothing to talk about Manny, we’re just friends.” Abby replied reluctantly, not completely believing her own words. It’s not like you guys were dating, but it felt like a disservice to call what you guys had a “friendship”. The word itself didn’t accurately encapsulate enough meaning for her and despite the fact she was a voracious reader, Abby just couldn’t come up with a word for what you two had.

“If you’re friends, then just go up and talk to her.”  Manny knew Abby, and he knew that she always needed a push if he wanted to get anything out of her.

“I can’t… I just can’t. I’m not like you, okay?” Abby was conflicted, waves of doubt started to roll in the more she thought about it. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t want to talk to her; that maybe you were just being nice last night and didn’t actually like her, or maybe even that you saw her when you came in and decided to ignore her on purpose. 

Obviously Abby was freaking out for no reason, but those small anxious bits of uncertainty that crept in from the back of her mind made her shield of confidence feel tenuous and weak; something she despised.

Manny knew what Abby meant but being the smug little shit he is, he wanted to hear her say it out loud “What do you mean?”.

Abby sighed, “Don’t make me say it.”.

“No, no I really want to hear it.” Manny smiled that famous shit-eating grin, the one he used whenever Abby had to admit he was right.

Abby realized he wasn’t letting go of this “Ugh you know, you can… talk to people.”. Abby could tell by Manny’s face that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, so not wanting to risk the possibility that he’ll stand up again Abby gave him a look of defeat “and I guess you’re charming or whatever.”.

“Ah! Música para mis oídos.” Manny smiled proudly, hearing Abby compliment him was almost as rare as seeing her without that signature braid. Just as Manny was getting ready to haul Abby’s ass to your table he looked over and realized that you had disappeared, it wasn’t until Abby kicked his shins again that he realized you were standing right there.

You were elbow deep in your third burrito before your dumbass realized that Abby was sitting a couple tables across from yours. “Shit!” You thought, how long had she been sitting there? Did she notice you? No, probably not… unless, what if she was so disgusted by you huffing down those burritos that she ignored you? Ugh! How could you not have noticed her?

You calmly set your burrito down, wiping your face and praying to God there wasn’t anything stuck in your teeth. You figured that Abby probably hadn’t noticed you so you decided to just bite the bullet and talk to her. As you stood up from your seat to make your way over to her table, you quietly whispered to yourself “Come on y/n, don’t be a pussy.”.

“Hey Abby.” She was sitting with a man who you assumed was the friend that she had transferred here with, she mentioned his name last night but you couldn’t place it. He suddenly jerked around to face you with a calm smile on his face, his rugged features and charming personality now making it clear as to why Abby complained about being kicked out of her own room so many nights. Even though you weren’t attracted to him, you understood what all the fuss was about.

“Hey Y/N, I didn’t even see you there.” As soon as the words came out Abby shot Manny a look, the kind of look that meant “don’t say a fucking word.”. However, of course Manny being… well Manny, he grinned and raised his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Manny.” His smile was warm and welcoming as he shook your hand “Please, sit down sit down. Tell me all about yourself.”.

You took a seat next to Abby, your knees just barely grazing each other due to the shortage of space at the table. Even though it was such a small form of contact, you couldn’t help but feel like there was an electric charge connecting you together. You wondered if she even noticed the gesture, if Abby could hear your heart daring to beat out of your chest; if she noticed that small gap between your hands on the table, or if she even noticed the small clandestine looks you were sending her the whole time.

Abby froze stiff as a board when you sat down next to her, and she did her best to maintain her composure when she felt your knee graze hers from beneath the table. This was the closest you two had been and now she could really see the details of your face and your actions; how you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear whenever you were nervous, or how you snorted when Manny thought “Little Women” was just about really tiny people. She noticed how bright your smile was, how it was the kind of smile that could instantly light up an entire room, and she was astonished because Abby finally understood the real meaning of that one Firefly quote about “looking for the light”. Abby realized that no matter what, she would follow you to the ends of the Earth. You were this bright and unexpected light that suddenly entered her life, you weakened her defences and made her feel like a ball of putty, and while one part of her detested that feeling, another part of her never wanted to part with it.

You explained to them how you had been rescued by the WLF and how you were a pretty skilled mechanic. You even told them about how although you loved your job, you desperately wanted to work in the library, because other than the fact that you wouldn’t be covered in grease at the end of every day, you’d also be surrounded by things you love. 

The two told you about the “Salt Lake Crew” and how they were essentially Isaac’s top soldiers. It was a fact that left you with about a hundred questions, but you figured it wasn’t the right time to bring up their boss so you tried your best to brush it off. The three of you sat at that table talking for what felt like forever before the cafeteria staff kicked you guys out because they had to clean up. 

As they both walked you to your room you were so incredibly excited. You had spent so many months at this boring outpost, spending most of your time reading or crying. Then Abby happened; she came into your life and suddenly you weren’t alone anymore. You were so insanely grateful for this newfound happiness that you just wanted to leap into those insanely strong arms. 

Just as the two were about to leave Abby grabbed your hand and leaned down to your height so she could quietly talk to you, “Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?”.

You were so dumbfounded by her hand holding yours that you nearly passed out, you tried to form words but all you could manage was a small nod.

Abby smiled as she stood up and looked to Manny “Hey, you can go ahead I’ll catch up. I just need to talk to Y/N for a quick sec.”. 

Manny immediately got the signal and grinned so wide Abby thought his face would freeze like that, Abby knew she was never going to hear the end of this, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care with your hand in hers.

Then Manny was gone, and it was just you and Abby. Her hand was still holding yours and you couldn’t help but notice all the details of them; how she had these small calluses on the palms of her hands, formed from years of wielding firearms and lifting weights. You realized how much damage she could do with them—how much damage she had done with them—but instead she stood there softly cradling your hand in hers, just lightly squeezing it before she looked at you with those same pools of blue you wanted desperately to drown in.

“Hey so I know we kind of just met last night, but I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you and…” Abby paused to contemplate her words before starting again “and I was wondering if we could do this more often. I’m doing some work for Isaac tomorrow but I’ll be back later if you wanted to come by and watch a movie or something?”.

“Holy shit!” You thought “Did Abby just ask me out on a date?”. You couldn’t believe it, there was no way this absolutely fucking perfect girl just asked you on a date. You almost wanted to pinch yourself because nothing about this felt real, it wasn’t until you snapped back to reality that you realized you had been staring at Abby in absolute silence while she stood there waiting for an answer.

You quickly answered “Absolutely, I would love to come over and watch a movie.” Your heart was pounding dangerously fast against your ribcage and your face was completely flushed as you gave her a reassuring smile.

Abby sighed with relief and lightly squeezed your hand “Great! I’m in the room across from the gym, does eight o-clock work?”. Abby felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, at first when Y/N didn’t say anything, she was afraid she had misread the situation and crossed the line.

“I’ll see you then.” As you started heading back to your room, you suddenly remembered something “Hey Abby!” She looked back with curiosity as you shot her a small smirk “Thanks for the note.”. 

Abby smiled shyly “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

—

Read the next chapter here

[teeztheflag]

─────────────────────

S i e b e n  S i n n e (Seven Senses) III

⋆ pairing: catking!san x reader (x human!woo young)

⋆ genre: yandere au, fantasy au, suggestive

⋆ trigger warnings ⚠️ strong language, yanderish behaviour, possessiveness, violence

⋆ words: 3,500

a/n: last part of this journey, don’t forget San is more like a soft yandere... I know some of you won’t be happy with the ending but it was too much fun haha

part I  part II  part III

⋆ „But I won’t ever be able to turn into a human again.“ 

─────────────────────

You definitely felt more energy while being in the body of a real cat but also the castle seemed to be much more distant now. You didn’t even know how to turn back into the other form so you just ran until the walls came into your view that shielded the gardens of the castle from outside.

It was very easy to just jump up and use your claws to get steady on the surface. Being a cat was indeed fun but you wouldn’t want to get used to it.

Emerging the building you were confused on how to enter it because all the doors seemed to be locked. After a little while of not knowing what to do you decide to descend some balconies and stop in front of a large room where a big desk was set.

Was this San‘s workspace?

A meow escapes you without knowing when you see a chair turning and San looks outside only to see you leaning against one of the big windows with your paws.

He frowns and stands up to open the window to sniff the air. „(y/n)?“ You try to shy away from him but he’s quicker to take you into his arms and press you against his chest while closing the window again. He sits down on his chair and places you on his lap to look at you with heartily eyes.

„I should be angry that Hong Joong came back here without you but I see you seem to have a little problem there...“ You purr at the feeling of him caressing your (y/h/c) colored fur with pleasurable motions.

„You can still talk you know?“

You lick your paws out of instinct and shriek a little bit when you feel something itching in San‘s lap. Jumping on to his desk you sit down in front of him muttering. „It happened when I wanted to go into the shop and now... I don’t know how to turn back.“

This makes the cat king laugh out loud and he bops your little cat nose. „It’s ok. I was afraid something happened to you...“ His eyes are full with worry but it vanishes as quickly when he stands up to take you into his arms again. He kneels down and with a small push he rolls you over and you feel yourself changing back.

You lay on the ground your tail swinging quickly while you examine your body. „Oh, thanks!“ You smile at him and he hums at you.

„I hope you had a nice day anyway. After this the next time you get out of this castle I will be the one on your side.“ Worry takes over your features and you are afraid he would do something to Hong Joong for not being careful enough.

„Don’t worry. Hong Joong is one of my dearest friends. If something happened however...“

There was nothing you could do now then wait. And you did until the day you woke up and knew soon you would be free again. Hopefully everything would go smoothly today.

Woo Young didn’t know how long he layed in the grass of the wide meadow he woke up but he was sure there wasn’t much time left when he saw the hectic pace of the towns people and the carriages that passed him.

Disoriented he literally lived the past days like a stray tomcat looking for you in all places. It was only when he emerged an older woman with gray cat ears that he decided to ask what the ruckus was about.

„Oh boy where do you even live? Today’s the wedding of our king choi and his beloved (y/n)!“ She smiles and gives him a flower after leaving the boy standing there dumbfounded.

„Oh my god...“ You were in the palace.

He demonized the mask seller for not telling him this important information and started to follow the way of the carriages like a maniac.

Standing in front of the big gate guards were quick to push him back when he tried to casually walk inside the royal grounds.

„No trespassing for uninvited!“

He waited a second after another cat bowed down in front of the guards to tell them he was late for the kitchen help. It was pretty obvious when he imitated this action to them earning him a questioning look by the guard.

„I am here for the kitchen help!“

„Sir Min Gi! The chef is asking where all the servants are!“ Min Gi debates with himself for a second when he utters something and points for Woo Young to enter.

„Today everything has to be perfect. Men, get back to work and you, tell the chef there’s help coming.“

Everywhere he can hear cheering and laughter while the castle is in full festival mood. He wanders around trying to find a tip for your location and comes to a halt when two equally rich clothed people pass him in a hallway. He quickly looks to the ground bowing but not misses the gaze of the man with the black ears and tail.

Woo Young mirrors the glare with a bad feeling not knowing who this person was or why he could swear he smirked after he saw the boy.

He continues his way through the corridors and just when he swears he saw a white fabric a servant stops him. „You! We have to get ready and why do still not wear your clothes?“

„I ehm ...“ He stutters and the man rolls with his eyes annoyed. He turns Woo Young around and pushes him into another direction ranting about how everything is messed up now and that they should better hurry up.

With all the guards and servants around having an eye on everything he gives up to look for you. He has to get you when the ceremony starts.

You find yourself in front of a mirror all dolled up the necklace on your neck feeling like it’s suffocating you. A sigh escapes your shaking lips when Ye Ri comes in to announce that it’s time for you. Joy is busy picking on your gown and hair to make sure everything looks perfect while you are praying every second your plan works.

Soon you would be back to your own world. Living with your mom and going back to school. Seeing Jang Mi ranting about you and having Woo Young to annoy you every chance he gets. You stick to the memories like they could vanish out of your head any moment.

And then the door opens and you’re getting outside into the big gardens where the ceremony is being held. Music starts to play and you can see all the guests turning their heads to your direction where you try to not faint.

Everything is decorated like you would want it to at your imagination of a perfect wedding. The guests look mostly rich and their ears twitch in excitement at the arrival of the bride. Turning your attention back to the end of the path where he is standing.

San looks devilishly handsome. He gasps when he sees you and you also forget to move for a moment. So much beauty wasted on a man like him.

Cat. He’s a cat. Don’t forget that.

Making your way to the podest where he’s standing you hear the little remarks some of the guest make and start to feel insecure.

„She’s so beautiful! Look at her ears and tail I bet she has the prettiest fur...“

„And to be this lucky! King Choi looks breathtaking like always!“

San takes your hand in his when you shyly look up to him. His tail is swinging agitated from side to side tingling with yours occasionally.

From the outside you two probably had to look like the perfect match but you knew how cruel the king could be. The pastor finally starts his speech while San doesn’t take his eyes off you any second.

You on the other hand focus your gaze on his tie mind really blank the whole time. Only when you’re asked to answer you look up to him seeing his shining orbs and suddenly the man announces you to cats in marriage with the guest awaitening the magic kiss.

San carefully takes your hands in his and looks at you promising. Then he leans down and his lips collide with yours in a sensual way leaving you no option to kiss him back. He feels soft and his tongue provokes to claim your mouth with a longing force. He embraces your waist and kisses you for god knows how long leaving you with a bubbly feeling in the stomach that doesn’t feel as bad as you would’ve guessed. Everyone‘s clapping and San smiles and waves at the guests feeling the happiest he ever did.

The party is in full swing when suddenly the big doors to the hall open and servants bring in the wedding cake with spray fountains on the top. You gasp at the size but freeze in your spot next to the king when you see a face you nearly forgot.

You’re trembling and about to stand up when you feel San‘s eyes locked on your form. „Are you ok, my queen?“

Slowly you turn to him and put on a fake smile to not gain any more attention. He smirks and leans down to whisper in your ear. „I am as much nervous because of the wedding night as you are. I have a surprise for you by the way...“

You frown at him and quickly lock your eyes back on your friend. Woo Young‘s ears twitch still not used to the loud noises and he nearly doubles over when seeing you next to the king.

Anger is building up inside of him but you mouth him to wait. You don’t know why and how he managed to get to you but the love you had for him just sparked again and left you with a warm feeling.

He came here. To rescue you!

Woo Young is quickly out of your eyes knowing you have to get to the kitchen to meet him while San leads you to the cake and of course his hand is over yours when he feeds you a piece of it.

Guest after guest scurries to you and the king to make conversation and congratulate you. The people were nice and you didn’t have a problem to talk feely with them much to San‘s goodwill.

Music starts to play and you and San dance to the first song. It would probably feel very romantic if your thoughts wouldn’t be with Woo Young every second and you fear that San recognizes your change in behavior.

After that the party really starts and cats are storming the dance floor.

You realize the time has come to get out of here. You dismiss yourself with a lie to use the restroom and go straight to the cabin in the bathroom where you hid other clothes.

You put on the uniform of the servants and look from left to right before you leave into the hallway. Walking to the kitchen with quick steps you’re trying to look busy while finding Woo Young. Tears are flowing down your cheeks when you see the boy looking out of the window his tail in between his fingers playing with it.

You stand next to him poking him on the side to gain his attention and quickly usher him to stop when he whisper-yells your name and tries to hug you.

„Listen, I have a plan to get out of here but we have to go now.“

„Alright.“ He takes your hand in his and holds it so desperately fearing he would lose you again if he let go. „I just missed you so much. I was so afraid, (y/n).“

„I missed you, too. I cannot put into words how thankful I am that you came here to save me.“ You both smile at eachother and you hurry to make him follow you out of the castle.

You both run like wolves chased you and so often turned around to see if someone followed you. Much to your disbelief no one seemed to recognize your absense meaning you really could have a chance.

The place where you met the mask seller moves closer any second and your heartbeat doesn’t seem to slow down. Sweat is forming on yours and Woo Young‘s forehead when you stop in your tracks to look around desperately.

„Are you awaitening someone?“ He talks between taking deep breaths.

„Yes. Someone who helped me and someone who will get us out of here.“

After a minute you suddenly hear foot steps in the distance and because it already got pretty dark outside you only recognize him when he’s embracing you.

„Yeo Sang!“

„We have to hurry up! I’ve seen San and some guards searching up the castle for you (y/n)! And who’s this?“

„This is my friend, Woo Young.“ You smile shyly and Yeo Sang nods understanding your relationship when the boy takes your hand in his.

The three of your run as fast as you can again into the direction of the portal passing the town, villages and forests until you can hear a slight buzzing.

„Here!“ Your gaze drifts not only to Woo Young but Yeo Sang, too, seeing the relief in their eyes being so close to be free and out of this world.

For Woo Young it is only important to have you on his side again so he takes your hand and motions for Yeo Sang to get the fuck out of here.

„Yeo Sang, you first!“ Yeo Sang nods at you and a tear rolls down his cheek.

„Thank you for everything, (y/n).“ He gets through the portal and your heart skips a beat.

He’s finally free...

You watch Woo Young in awe and with desperation in both your eyes you make confident steps to the portal. Just when you walk into the light something seems to pull you back and you realize it’s Woo Young who doesn’t seem to be able to walk through the portal.

You tumble back and frown becoming nervous. „What is going on? Why aren’t we able to go?“ You ask in desperation watching the boy shake his head while the moon illuminates the scene in a mysterious light.

„I didn’t know what it meant... but I guess that’s the price.“

„What the hell are you talking about?“

„This guy. He told me I had to pay later for it.“

„Woo Young. How were you able to come here?“

The glare he gives you tells you more than he could explain now. You had a problem. A big problem.

„We have to find this motherfucker and - “

„Ouch, your choice of words is hurting me.“ Suddenly Seong Hwa steps out of the dark of the trees and sends the two of you an intriguing smirk.

„You knew he was here! You knew it all along! Why didn’t you tell me?“

You’re angered and Woo Young tries to hold you back ashamed he got tricked so easily.

„You didn’t ask, little cat.“ A few seconds pass by with you letting out a hiss ready to attack if needed.

„Okay, you promised me you would help us. Now do whatever so he can leave this place.“

Seong Hwa chuckles lowly and raises his eyebrows at your words. „I can do that. But there’s a price for it.“

„Wh- what?! Are you nuts?“

„Listen, I am a merchant. I serve the one who pays the most... so tell me can you give me something that is more precious than what the other bidder gives me?“

„What other bidder?“ You grit your teeth at his words and don’t notice your hands turn into little fists.

„Your journey finally ends here, my wife.“

A dozen guards step out of the shadow all lead by the one you were running from - King Choi San himself.

You take a step back letting go of Woo Young‘s hand out of pure shock. „How? That’s not possible!“

San sends you the angriest look he had and grimaces at your reaction. „This is my kingdom after all. Nothing happens without my consent.“

He just states impassively and motions for his guards to get you.

„Stop! Seong Hwa, whatever he gives you I will double it! I will give you everything!“

He shakes his head and sighs. „I am afraid you won’t be able to give me more because... I already got everything I wanted thanks to the king and you, too.“

You’re feeling dizzy because of the situation and start to cry when Woo Young turns to you looking as lost as yourself.

„You loose. Your plan was actually a good one but you didn’t have a chance in the beginning, (y/n).“

„(y/n), he won’t have you. Go through the portal and leave me here.“

The guards and San get into position at Woo Young‘s words being prepared to stop you any second from leaving this world and becoming a human again.

„If you go I will torture and kill him in the cruelest way.“ San‘s orbs turn darker than you ever saw it and his words shake your bones. He doesn’t play around you know that. And in this moment you know exactly what to do.

Not what you want to do but... what is the right decision.

„I won’t go. I want to talk to the mask seller for a second.“

San and Seong Hwa share a quick look and the cat king smiles at you nodding afterwards.

Woo Young takes a few steps to the portal searching your face for answer his question what you’re planning. You dismiss him with an assuring smile and wait until Seong Hwa is in front of you.

„Did you already take his soul?“

„Not yet. I still have his human mask with me.“

You debate for a moment not knowing if he would agree with it. „If he stays here San is going to kill him. If I stay here I will still be the queen and his wife.“

„That’s right.“

„But I won’t ever be able to turn into a human again.“

„Yep.“ He grins at you from ear to ear already knowing what you’re up to.

„Mask seller, please give him back his human mask. I will stay here and you... you can have my human soul.“ He raises one eyebrow searching your face.

„You know you will never see him again right? He might never give you up...“

You’re crying again at the thoughts and bite your lips. „I want him to be happy. Can you make him forget about his feelings for me and everything that happened here?“

„I can do that.“ With a swift move of his index you can feel the mask appearing in your hand.

You nod at him and turn around to get to Woo Young Seong Hwa quickly in your tracks to make sure you don’t do anything funny.

„What’s going on, (y/n)?“ You surprise him with a desperate kiss. San only huffs in the background not forgetting about the wedding night he still has with you and where he would let out all the anger he has in himself right now.

He reluctantly pulls away still in the bliss of the kiss when you mouth to him ,I love you‘. He frowns and yells out when you crash the mask on his face and push him into the portal.

The last thing Woo Young sees is your smile and then his world turns dark.

San‘s eyes were focused on you the whole time. It felt like if he looked away for only a mere second you would vanish. He could never allow that. No one could take you from him. You were his.

„S-san, please, I need you to touch me.“

A breathles chuckle leaves the king at your neediness. The bliss of the still lingering marks on your skin ignite a fire in him he didn’t know before. A feeling of passion and desire; but also something darker… possession.

He had you on his mercy. His fingers slowly leaving trails down your spine until they landed on the curve of your waist. Your eyes were closed so you felt the tingle of the king‘s finger tips only more.

„Sleep my little kitten. You’ll always be safe with me…“

If you weren’t so lulled in his words and touches you would’ve known that his innocent smile hides something you should more than fear.

But you gave yourself to him and there was no turning back.

─────────────────────

↺ back to navi

─────────────────────

[irelanddesires]

Ny Början- Chapter 1

Pairing:  André Burakovsky x reader

Warnings: Fluff, eventual smut, hockey violence, domestic violence (in the beginning), idk probs more.

Summary:  With the help of a group of unsuspecting heroes you are saved from a toxic relationship. One of your saviors goes above and beyond anything you could ask for. A friendship is forged and after awhile feelings happen. Could ths be your happy ending? 

A/N: Hi I’m trash and this idea has rolled around in my head for w e e k s. I’ve played hockey for a really long time and the Avs are my team... Burky happens to be my hockey crush so I figured I would share this. IDK what it is but this challenged me a lot and I can’t write a guys perspective to save my life ffs. Dialogue is hard my doods. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Going to the club was the last thing you wanted to do. Between working two jobs and trying to stay on top of your classes it didn’t leave much free time and you didn’t want to spend that sparse time dealing with drunk people and loud music. Your boyfriend, Matthew, had insisted that this was exactly what you needed after the week you had. At this point you both had been there long enough to see friends call it a night and you were pretty sure that Matthew was one drink away from making a fool out of himself. 

“Matt, can we please go?” you asked, hoping that he would finally agree. 

“Loosen up! We never get to spend time together. Let’s enjoy this!” he practically yelled. 

“We’ve been here long enough. It’s late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” you urged. At this point you wanted to go home, get out of this dress and crawl into bed. Nothing at this bar held your attention. Matt’s had grabbed your arm, his face inches from yours.

“I said no. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished here.” he ground out. 

The look on his face left little room for argument and was quite scary. Matt was usually a nice guy, the perfect boyfriend, but after drinking he could become a totally different person. Matt had never hit you but the emotional toll it took on you could be just as painful as a physical blow. After the week you’ve had of working 12-14 hour days just to come home and clean before passing out just to do it all over again made you throw all caution to the wind. You wanted to go home for fucks sake, not be here. 

You snached your arm from his grip, looking him in the eyes, “I’m tired, I’m going home. You can stay if you want but I’m not.” 

Before he could say anything you spun on your heels and marched out the side door that led to a less busy street. You hoped this would give you some peace and quiet as you ordered your Uber. Just as you tapped the app to get an Uber the door behind you swung open. Matt stumbled through the doorway and onto the sidewalk with you. 

“You can’t leave me,” he said. 

“Matt, I’m going home to sleep. I don’t care what you do.” 

“I said no!” he roared. Before you could comprehend what was happening your head snapped back and you were pushed against the outside wall of the bar. The brick dug into your skin as you tried to struggle against the hands holding you there. 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me you bitch.” he said as his fingers dug into your throat, “If I tell you to do something you fucking do it!” 

Panic seized your chest as his hands circled around your throat. The throbbing in your head forgotten about as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You tried to kick him as hard as you could but it seemed like he wasn’t phased at all by it. Your hands grabbed onto his, your fingernails digging into his skin trying to get any distance between his hands and your throat. Just as spots began to dance around your vision the same door you both had exited from swung open and a group of people spilled out. 

Before you could try and scream for help one of them turned around and spotted you. His face went from relaxed and playful to murderous in seconds. You didn’t have time to gather your thoughts before he was charging both of you, shoving Matt off of you. You fell to the ground in a pile, your muscles felt like jello but your brain screamed at you to run. Looking up at the situation happening in front of you all you could see was the back of the stranger that had come to your rescue. His friends had caught on quick and made it over to stand around you too, like shields between you and Matt,  as you gathered yourself. 

“Is there a problem?” One of them said, the voice sounded like it came from the one that had charged Matt but your brain couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. 

Matt stumbled to his feet before looking at the mystery men. “Mind your business” he slurred. 

“I don’t think so. You want to get to her, you have to go through us.” a voice called out. 

For a moment it looked like Matt was considering it. His eyes scanned each guy before landing on you. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” he yelled before turning around and making his way back into the bar. 

The door didn’t have time to shut all the way before one of your saviors crouched down in front of you. His hazel eyes searched your face, “ Are you okay?” he asked 

As much as you wanted to tell him your entire body felt weighed down, you bit back your weakness,

 “I’m fine.” you said as you began to try and stand. It took a couple tries to get your feet under you. You tried to use what energy you had to stand, you were nearly there when your legs went to give out. Hands caught you around your waist and pulled you the rest of the way up. 

“You don’t look fine” the mystery man said and he held onto you, carrying the majority of your weight. “Look, let me get you somewhere safe and I can take you home”

You looked at him, searching his face for dishonesty. At this point you figured that someone, or a group of people, that came to your rescue surely couldn’t be bad people. You silently agreed for his help with a nod of your head. 

The rest of the time you spent with the group of them went by in a blur. They all talked amongst themselves in whispers, every now and then you caught words. At one point you caught the name “André” and you assumed this was the name of the guy holding you up. Before long a car pulled to the curb and your stranger opened the door for you before helping you inside. None of the other guys followed so you assumed they were getting their own Uber. 

The ride was silent for a few moments before his voice broke through, “I’m André by the way” 

“Y/N” 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” he said. 

You looked at him and nodded, whispering a “thank you” as you settled into the seat. You shouldn’t feel comfortable about going home with a guy you just met outside a bar but for some reason you felt safe with him. He gave off a genuine arua of concern and wanting to help. Before you could think about it too much your world faded to black and you let your exhausted and battered body rest. 

_______________________________

Having a night off from hockey was rare. What was even more rare was being able to have a guys night with some of the team. Most of the time when games weren’t being played or practice were being held, everyone would go their own ways. Some would spend time with their significant other, some would spend time alone or some would visit family if the break was long enough. 

Tonight a few of us had decided to let loose and bar hop across Denver. Usually this time of year the weather was starting to get cooler which made bar hopping more of a chore. Tonight however, the weather was perfect which gave us plenty of reason to have some fun. 

The first bar we went to was picked by Miko. He said this was the best bar in Denver with the hottest chicks so more than a few in our group were eager to get there. 

The outside of the building was modern with sleek black walls and the walls that weren’t stone were see-through glass. Through the windows we could see people dancing with lights strobing through the air.

 We quickly made our way inside and were ushered to a VIP section, one of the many perks of playing professional sports was getting recognized when out since it usually led to getting a more private area. The captain of the team was with us so of course we were bound to be recognized. 

We all bounced around from group to group chatting and drinking. Some of the guys had found partners to dance with while the rest of us just hung out. Time passed and we all were eventually some level of intoxicated, some more than others. Nate brought up the idea of heading to the Pur, a rooftop bar with a chill atmosphere. A group of us thought that was a great plan. The constant bass and flashing lights got old as the night wore on. 

The five of us; Gabe, Nate, Miko, Gru and myself headed toward the back door. We hoped we could escape quietly and back doors were usually best for doing that. 

The heavy door swung shut behind us as we spilled into the cool Denver night. A noise caught my attention, turning my head to see who else was out here, I was met with a scene I wasn’t expecting. A man had a woman pinned to the side of the building. Her feet dangled off of the ground and her hands gripped his that were circling around her throat. Time seemed to stop and instinct took over as I rushed to them. Before I could comprehend what I was doing my fist was sailing through the air, connecting with the man's face before he fell to the ground. The girl slumped to the side of the building in a heap. Concern for her swam through my body but I knew this guy had to leave before I could help her. 

The man stumbled to his feet. By now the guys had joined me, putting ourselves between the pair. 

“Is there a problem?” Gave asked

“Mind your business” the man mumbled. 

Rage burned through my body and it took everything in me to not pummel this guy. 

“I don’t think so.” I called out. 

The man took a moment. His eyes scanned each one of us. He must have eventually decided he was outnumbered and didn’t want to take his chances. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” He yelled before stumbling through the door we had just come out of. Relief flooded me now that we didn’t have a fight on our hands. A whimper from behind me had me turning and dropping to my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. My eyes scanned over her checking for major injuries. Her breathing hitched as she tried to push herself up to stand. Halfway up her legs seemed to give way. Before she could tumble to the ground I grabbed her, hauling her to her feet and holding as much of her weight as I could. 

Her hands tangled in my shirt holding on for dear life. There’s no way she would be able to make it home and I didn’t trust leaving her like this with a stranger. Looking around the group of guys, Gabe was the first to speak up. 

“What’s your plan? Get an Uber?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I think I will take her to my place. I have a spare room she can sleep in and she can figure out something in the morning” 

The guys nodded in agreement. No one wanted to leave her alone right now. Especially not with her angry boyfriend, or ex boyfriend I hope, on the loose. 

“I’ll get you guys an Uber,” Gru piped up. 

“Thanks” I muttered, turning my attention back to the girl clinging on to me. 

The rest of the wait was quiet. No one talked about going anywhere else for the night. I’m sure at this point everyone wanted to go home and decompress from what had happened. Before long the Uber pulled up and I shuffled us around to open the door. With some adjustments I was able to sit her down and close the door before nodding to the guys and making my way around the car to climb in beside her. 

The driver took off immediately, glancing in the rear view mirror between the two of us. We didn’t make it far before i turned to her, 

“I’m André by the way” 

Her sad eyes met mine and for a moment I didn’t think she would say anything until I heard a whisper. 

“Y/N” 

Her voice sounded awful and the emotion behind her eyes told me how exhausted she really was. 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” I told her. 

She looked at me again before croaking out a “thank you”. The rest of the ride was quiet. Once we arrived at my place I figured out why it was quite. At some point during the drive Y/N must had fallen asleep, her head was leaning against the window and her body was curled right around herself. 

I climbed out of the car and went to her side. Carefully I opened the door, catching her head when it went to fall. Surprisingly she didn’t wake so I slid my arms under her lifting her out of the car and pulling her against my chest. 

Unlocking the door and navigating through my apartment while carrying another person was harder than I would have imagined. I made it to my guest room and laid her on the bed. Not wanting her to wake up uncomfortable I took her shoes off before covering her with blankets and shutting the door on my way out. 

I settled on the couch with a beer from the fridge before releasing the breath that seemed stuck in my chest. The last thing I thought about before drifting off was the broken girl sleeping in the other room.

[wintervvidow]

apricity pt. three

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, vomit mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 4,200

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter yet still very important! I did have to use google translate for the Russian, so if it is incorrect, please let me know and I'm very sorry if it is! Thank you 💕

MASTERLIST

“Я готов отвечить.” ( Ready to comply.)

The December air was cold as it blew through Florence’s hair, her arms circling Bucky’s waist as they rode down the dark road on Bucky’s motorcycle. The soldier steered with one arm, free hand coming down to rub circles on the redhead’s calf as they pulled behind a cluster of trees, hiding them from onlookers as they waited. The pair of assassins were unthawed and reset only hours ago, immediately given their latest mission.

A car came into view, red tail lights illuminating the air around them. Bucky flipped the bike’s headlight on and pulled onto the road again. The soldier revved the bike, catching up to the side of the vehicle as Florence sunk her butterfly knife into the tire, causing the car to swerve off the road and crash into a building.

Bucky parked the bike ahead of the crash, Florence stepping off the bike, Bucky behind her, and approaching the car. She flipped open the trunk to reveal a large silver briefcase, opening it to see five bags of blue liquid; exactly what they were looking for.

This was the last mission the Winter Soldier and the Winter Widow would ever go on.

Florence bolted up in the cheap hotel bed, Bucky’s screams reverbing in her brain. HYDRA always made her watch when Bucky was reprogrammed, a way to keep Florence in line and remind her who she was; just a puppet.

The last mission was always a common nightmare in the rotation of dreams Florence had, continuously taunting her. She disappeared only two weeks after it, abandoning everything she had grown accustomed to and the only person she had ever loved.

Florence couldn't go back to sleep, instead deciding on making herself coffee, the microwave clock mocking her, 4:34 a.m. She sipped her coffee slowly at the small kitchenette table, patiently waiting to start her day as she watched the clock tick away until it became 6:30 a.m., a reasonable enough hour to be awake for Steve to not worry.

~

The team was in Lagos, following a lead on Brock Rumlow, who had been causing quite the headache in the past few months, this time his target was deadly weapons from the Institute For Infectious Diseases.

Florence and Natasha sat across from each other listening to Steve and Wanda Maximoff converse about their surroundings through their earpieces, doing their best to remain anonymous and still get the intel under the hot noon sun.

“You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?” Steve asked Wanda as she fiddled with the sugar packet in her hand.

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute.”

“It’s also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns...which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.” Florence smirked at Natasha’s response as she took a sip of her coffee, savoring the caffeine.

Wanda chirped back through her radio, ‘You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?”

Florence glanced at Wanda across the cafe, “Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

Sam’s voice floated through their earpieces from the rooftop above, “Anybody ever told you two you’re a little paranoid?”

The two redheads shared a knowing look with small smirks adorning their faces, “Not to either of our faces. Why? Did you hear something?” Florence’s tone was light, but both she and Natasha knew the darkness behind it; the Red Room made them that way.

Steve, ever the serious man, refocused the small group, “Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

Sam scoffed in the mic, “If he sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.”

There was a pause in time before Steve spoke, “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.” Sam deployed Redwing, giving Sam and the team the information they needed, “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

Natasha glanced at Florence, the pair not too thrilled to be dealing with this particular situation, “It’s a battering ram.”

“Go now.”

Wanda questioned Steve into her mic, the tension had just risen significantly.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

The team scattered, Steve, Wanda, and Sam going after Rumlow while Florence and Natasha were both on motorcycles racing down the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.”

Natasha revved her bike, “I’m on it.” The redhead purposely crashed her bike, flinging it into an armed guard. Florence ditched her bike, joining Natasha in the fight.

A guard swung at Florence, missing his target as she ducked and swept his feet from underneath the attacker. Natasha took down two more guards while Florence took down three more, tossing the last guard on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Florence and Natasha were attacked by Rumlow, neither of the two women able to effectively take him down. The two were shoved into a tank, Rumlow dropping a bomb in before latching the door closed. They surveyed their surroundings quickly; two guards with guns aiming at them. Florence kicked one unconscious while Natasha grabbed the other guard and used him as a human shield when the grenade exploded, grabbing Florence on the way down.

Black smoke filled the air, the smell of fire making it hard to breathe, sending the pair of assassins into a coughing fit on the ground. Looking up, they could see Steve being blown back into the building by an explosion, their ears ringing from the volume. Steve sent Sam after Rumlow, who was in an AFV heading north.

Natasha relocated the ditched bike and got on, pulling Florence behind her. The younger assassin revved the bike as they entered the street, Florence holding onto her.

Sam called out the offenders, clocking four of them splitting up.

Natasha stopped the bike and looked at Florence before splitting up, “I got the two on the left, you take the right.”

Florence sprinted down the busy street, dodging and weaving the crowd. Her targets came into view ahead of her, the girl sent a throwing star their way, effectively knocking him to the ground with no way to run. The girl grabbed the man, searching the bag furiously, trying to locate the weapon, “It’s not here!” Sam replied back, not having the weapon either.

Natasha called over the mic, “I have it.” Florence sighed in relief, moving to meet back up with the team.

She came upon Steve, who had Rumlow on the ground in front of him. She approached the scene cautiously, listening to the exchange.

“You know, he knew you and that redhead, Florence. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” Rumlow whispered tauntingly at Steve.

Florence approached from behind, grabbing Rumlow’s hair and yanking him back, putting a knife to his throat, “What did you say?” The flip switched in Florence’s brain at the mention of Bucky, nothing else mattering anymore. She didn’t care that people were probably filming her with a knife to someone’s throat, and Steve made no move to stop her.

The disfigured man laughed as the knife dug deeper against his neck, staring up at Florence, “He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Always screaming about you.” He then looked at Steve, “Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’ And you’re coming with me.” Rumlow’s thumb pressed a detonation device, Florence and Steve noticing it at the same time.

Wanda was behind them, containing the explosion of fire with her powers, keeping Steve and Florence from becoming red mist. The newest member sent Rumlow up and into the building in front of them. The building went up in flames, the leftover gasses from Rumlow’s bombs reacting to the fire and exploding. The bystanders screamed and ran as Wanda looked on in horror at what she had just done, hand clamping over her face.

Florence gently guided the girl away from the scene, “Hey, come one. We have to go, this isn’t on you, okay?”

Behind them, Steve called for Sam to request Fire & Rescue before he took off to go save people from the building, leaving Florence to console the distraught brunette.

A month later, the team was back at the Avengers Compound, Florence sitting with Steve as they watched the news.

“Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos, when the attack occurred.”

The TV switched to show King T’Chacka of Wakanda’s speech:

“Our people’s blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, ut by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

Steve turned the TV off, the only other sound in the compound coming from Wanda’s TV in her room. Florence got up to go speak to the girl before Steve stopped her, “I’ll go.” Steve and Wanda were taking the Lagos incident the hardest, both blaming themselves. The mention of Bucky had made both Florence and Steve freeze until it was too late, leaving Wanda to deal with the bomb that now plagues her consciousness. Florence watched as Steve walked off until he wasn’t visible anymore for her to turn on her heel to head to the kitchen.

The redhead was in dire need of coffee, the cup she had that morning had worn off. The nightmares amplified after Rumlow’s supposed confession about Bucky, the girl had hardly slept more than two hours a night. When she did sleep it was restless, nightmares of Bucky haunting every corner of her mind. She managed to make it through half her mug before she was called downstairs for a meeting with Tony and the Secretary of State.

Secretary Ross sighed heavily as he stood at the head of the table of Avengers as he mimicked his golf swing, “Five years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me. Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

Next to Florence, Natasha spoke with a smirk adorning her face, “What word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

Secretary Ross looked up from the table, “How about ‘dangerous’? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross stepped aside from the table, allowing the full view to be on the screen in front of the table, showing various clips of incidents the Avengers were involved in. Everyone at the table grimaced at the screen, not proud of what it was showing. Ross flipped through events of New York, Washington D.C., Sokavia and Lagos before Steve had enough, noting Wanda’s demeanor change and telling Ross to turn it off.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross paused, placing a large file on the table in front of Wanda who passed it on to Rhodey, “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

Steve spoke from the end of the table, “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that.”

Ross looked down at Steve, “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

Rhodey gestured to the accords “So, there are contingencies.”

Ross shrugged, “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Ross began to leave until Natasha stopped him, “And if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.” Ross left after that, leaving the team to discuss.

The team was arguing amongst themselves as Florence stared at the ceiling with her feet on the table, listening to various points being made while Rhodey and Sam debated behind Steve while Tony rolled his eyes.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, “So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No, that’s cool. We got it.’”

Sam cut Rhodey off, “How long are you going to play both sides?”

Vision interrupted from his spot on the couch next to Wanda, “I have an equation.”

Sam moved to stand behind Florence, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Oh, this will clear it up.”

Vision continued, “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve spoke with the Accords in hand.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invited challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict,” Vision paused, “breeds catastrophe. Oversight, oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

Rhodey looked to Sam, “Boom.”

Natasha spoke from her spot at the table, “Tony, you are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

Tony grumbled at Steve’s statement, “Boy, you know me so well.” Tony rose from the couch, cradling his head as he walked over to the kitchen, “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Tony grabbed a coffee mug, looking into the sink, “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal?”

Natasha looked at Florence with a knowing look about her coffee-sleep- problem while Tony continued complaining behind them, “Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony placed his phone in the fruit basket, a small hologram emitting from it of a young man, “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk, See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia.” Tony paused, allowing the words to sink in painfully, “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

Steve began speaking, “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

Rhodey speaks up, pointing at Steve, “I’m sorry, Steve. This is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s not HYDRA.”

Florence practically flinched at Rhodey’s mention of HYDRA as Steve cut him off, “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

Tony walked towards the group, “That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

Steve interrupted, “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” The team all shared looks, silently gauging their stances.

Tony looked down at Steve, “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda, who had been silent the entire meeting, spoke from her seat next to Vision, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Vision spoke beside her, “We would protect you.”

“Maybe Tony’s right,” All eyes darted to Natasha, “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

Sam cut her off, “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“I’m just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Florence was slightly shocked at Natasha’s statement. She had assumed that she wouldn’t be signing, not wanting to walk back into a potential puppet situation.

Tony leaned against his chair, looking at Natasha baffled, “Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?”

Natasha shook her head, “I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay. Case closed. I win.”

Florence noticed Steve’s phone buzzing, watching his face fall as he read the notification, “I have to go.” The team watched as Steve bolted out of the room.

Days later, Florence was seated between Steve and Sam as they attended Peggy Carter’s funeral in London. The girl was never close to Peggy in the ’40s, she only spoke to her briefly, but Florence knew Steve would need support. The trio watched from the pew as Sharon Carter, Peggy’s niece and an ex S.H.I.E.L.D agent, spoke about her aunt. Sharon had grown to be a friend and an ally to the team, helping them out during the Battle of Triskelion.

The funeral ended quickly, Florence standing outside with Sam while Steve remained in the chapel. A familiar redhead passed by, Florence grabbing Natasha’s arm gently, “Nat? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Steve, then I’m off to Vienna to sign the Accords.”

Florence furrowed her brows, “You’re signing it? Who else signed?”

Natasha shrugged, “Yeah, it’s what seems right. Tony, Rhodey and Vision have signed. Clint says he’s retired and Wanda is TBD. You?”

“I can’t.” Florence wanted to but was immensely torn. She didn’t see a way to function properly under the Accords, and her best bet was to not sign, much to Natasha’s dismay. Florence remained paranoid after the Red Room and HYDRA, even more so than the redhead in front of her. She wanted it to be easy, to sign the Accords without any second thoughts, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Natasha smiled softly at her friend, “I figured. But there’s room on the jet if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’ll pass. Go see Steve.” The two girls hugged briefly, Natasha pulling away and entering the chapel.

Hours later, both Sam and Florence’s phone vibrated, alerting a notification, the pair taking out their devices and reading ‘UNITED NATIONS COMPLEX BOMBED’

The two looked up from their phones in fear, immediately on the hunt to find Steve.

They found him in the lobby of Sharon’s hotel, having walked her back after Natasha left hours ago. Sam stopped in front of him, “Steve, there’s something you need to see.”

The trio stood in front of the TV of their shared hotel room as the news anchor spoke, “A bomb hidden in news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”

Sharon paced behind them while she was on the phone.

“More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

The screen played a clip of the alleged suspect, Bucky, and Florence felt like she was going to be sick. Her stomach dropped and she could feel Sam’s gaze on her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon interrupted Steve and Florence’s internal spiral, “I have to go to work.”

Florence remained in front of the TV, trying to talk herself out of believing that Bucky would do this. He would have been acting alone. He wouldn’t have done this, this wasn’t the man she knew. She knew he was out of HYDRA’s clutches and was on his own, it couldn’t be him.

Steve grabbed her wrist gently, turning her away from the TV, “We have to go to Vienna, come on.”

Florence and Steve made it to Vienna along with Sam, both leaning against a tree with hats and sunglasses in an attempt to remain unknown. Steve pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha’s number. Florence ignored their conversation as she stared emotionless at the ground. The air was still heavy with smoke from the bombing as Steve spotted Natasha a few yards away, her ignorant to the fact that Steve and Florence were here.

After Steve hung up, Florence’s phone began to ring, Natasha’s contact lighting up the screen. She shared a look with Steve before answering, “Hey.”

Natasha wasted no time getting to the point, “Look, I know how much Barnes means to you, trust me I get it, but don’t do anything stupid. You need to stay home and regroup.”

Florence sighed into the phone, “Nat, you know I can’t do that.” Florence ended the call before Natasha could respond, quickly pocketing the phone in her black jacket and walking away.

Florence and Steve entered a restaurant, quickly spotting Sam at the bar.

Sam placed his food down, “She tell you to stay out of it?” Steve and Florence’s silence was answer enough for Sam, “Might have a point.”

Steve pursed his lips, “He’d do it for me.”

“1945, maybe.” Florence glared at Sam through her glasses as he continued speaking, “I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you two usually end up shooting at me.”

Sam didn’t know him. Steve didn’t know the ‘new’ him. Out of the two, she had known Bucky the longest, loving him through the good and the bad. Even when he was the darkest parts of the Winter Soldier, Florence still held love for him in her heart because she knew what HYDRA made him into. And when Florence’s reflection was unfamiliar to herself, whether she was covered in someone else’s blood or she had been reprogrammed, Bucky kept her from falling apart in the Red Room. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon made her way up the bar, standing next to Steve as she updated the group, “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its noise.” Sharon slid a file over to Steve, “Except for this. My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the head start you’re gonna get.”

Florence thanked Sharon as she left to leave, “You’re all gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.” Again, the feeling of bile worked its way up Florence’s throat, forcing herself to choke it down. Her hands shook at her sides as she took in Sharon’s words. She wouldn’t let that happen, even if it ended up killing her. She was going to save him.

Steve read over the file quickly, Sam and Florence looking at him expectantly, ”He’s in Romania.”

The location shouldn’t have shocked Florence as much as it did. A lot happened in Romania between herself and Bucky, she shouldn’t be surprised he went there. He probably didn’t even realize why he went to Bucharest, the action must have felt familiar. She should have began their search there two years ago, Florence was angry with herself for missing such an important place to them both. And God, did Romania have painful roots in the soldiers’ and widows’ lives.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG!

taglist: @tanyaherondale   @lilyviolets   @jckie94 @g-mayunot

[sailorshadzter]

Prompt: Joffrey reveals himself to be a monster to her towards the start of the stay at Winterfell .Knowing that her parents cant reject the match between herself and the Crown Prince without repercussions,she stages a kidnapping and slips herself into the group heading to the Wall. Maybe she cuts off her hair/dyes her hair/steals some of Brans clothes.Kinda like a Mulan AU I guess?

OOOOOH WOW

this is one of those asks that i have to scroll for a minute to get to!!! but i got to it!!! IM SORRY ITS TAKEN ME SO VERY LONG but inspiration strikes when it strikes. anyways, i might come out with a part 2 / dont tempt me to make this into another au i never finish but man the idea is GOOD.

anyways

i hope it was worth the wait.

As the night begins to dawn, Sansa Stark finds it hard to keep both feet on the ground.

She's lovestruck, falling hard for the golden haired Baratheon prince that's been put before her. With his charming good looks and regal posture, he's enough to make any maiden's heart flutter. In truth, even now with Joffrey and his parents, the King and Queen of the Iron Throne there in her own home, she's finding it hard to believe that she, she, of all people, will be the one to marry the prince. That someday she might be a queen as beautiful as his mother, Cersei Lannister, who smiles so sweetly whenever they meet, who speaks so tenderly, who upon after the betrothal was made official, calls her daughter, as if she so truly were.

"Come my lady, let us take one last walk." It's Joffrey now, bending over his arm in a bow as he approaches where she sits among the other young ladies of Winterfell. They erupt in giggles around her as she blushes to the roots of her hair but nods all the same, reaching out her hand to take his, allowing him to help her up onto her feet. Though she glances towards her mother, who sits engaged in conversation with her father and the King himself, Joffrey tugs on her hand and she can do nothing else besides follow after him. She knows it's inappropriate for her and the prince to sneak off alone like this, but she can't help but to excitedly wonder if he means only to steal her away for a private kiss. Besides, they are to be married in only a few short weeks, so what harm would it do?

They walk together out into the moonlit night, a surprising chill to the air that sends a shiver down her spine. If Joffrey notices, he does not speak on it, rather he continues to lead her through the courtyard where only a handful of guards and nobility mingle. It was astonishing just how many people came along with the King and his family and Sansa isn't certain there would ever be a way to remember all of their names. Along the back, they step into the gardens, the darkening sky pierced by the soft white light of the moon. "I will miss the moonlight of the North," she says as they fall to a stop before the brimming fountain, her lips curving with a smile. "But I suppose I will love it all the more whenever we return."

At her words, Joffrey turns, his expression not one she's seen before. It's not confusion, but rather, it looks like anger. No, it is something far beyond anger, and it frightens her down to her very core. Startled, Sansa begins to stammer an apology, but Joffrey silences her with a wave of his hand. "Return?" He scoffs, looking from her back towards Winterfell and back again. "We'll not be returning here once we leave," he goes on, shaking his head with a scathing sort of laugh that is far more chilling than the wind had been.

"Y-your pardon, I only meant... When we visit..."

"Did you not hear me, my lady... Once we leave here in two days, we shall not be returning. Not you and certainly not me. You will be my queen and you will stay South, where you belong." A strange feeling is creeping up within her; it's cold, it's deep, and it's so very dark. There is something about the way Joffrey says this that she knows it to be true. She realizes then, quite suddenly, that if she leaves with him as intended, she will never again return to Winterfell. She swallows. This isn't right, she thinks, he musn't mean it.

"I know the North is not entirely to your pleasure, but it is my home... I can't imagine never returning," she smiles, hoping her easy going tone is not lost to the shaking of her voice. "You may even grow to enjoy it here, if you give it a chance..." To her horror, Joffrey's hands shoot up and for a single instance, she thinks he means to strike her, but rather he takes hold of her by the upper arms, his grip like a vice. "M-my lord, you're h-hurting me," she whimpers, staring up into Joffrey's blazing eyes.

He leans in close to her, as close as he might have done for the kiss she had once hoped he'd bestow upon her, and breathes a simple reply. "Bid your home farewell, sweetheart, for we ride south in the morning." His grip lessens and then, he lets go entirely, taking a single step back from where she stands. The morning? She thinks, these words sinking in, realizing now that though she'd been told it would be another day before leaving... Evidently, someone had decided that there was no need to stay another night and no one had chosen to tell her. She wonders if this is cruelty on Joffrey's part or kindness of her parents, hoping to spare her the pain of knowing it was her last night home. Either way, it matters not, because she knows there's no way she can go South.

Not ever.

[ x x x ]

As she lays in bed, Sansa can do little else but stare at the ceiling above her bed and wish to be someone else. If she were anybody else, she would not be marrying the prince, and she would not be leaving home. Sansa had tried to explain her feelings to her mother, who had merely laughed and said it was nervous jitters. I had them, too, before I married your father, Cat Stark had said as she brushed out her daughter's hair for bed one last time. The next time she brushed this head of hair, it would be for her wedding day. The longer she spent with her mother that evening, the more Sansa realized she could not simply back out of this wedding. Sansa was not a stupid girl, though Arya might have argued differently, and she knew of the trouble brewing between the families. Between the kingdoms. She's overheard enough whispers and listened to enough speculation between her brothers to know that war was a very real possibility- some said only the good friendship between the Baratheon king and their father was what kept them safe. Sansa also knows, even just from the words spoken during their betrothal, that her marriage with Joffrey solidified the peace between them.

And yet...

The longer she thinks about it, the more she knows that despite it all, she cannot ride South. She knows of the stories, the ones of what happens to Stark men that go to King's Landing... What was stopping something terrible from happening to her as well? There had to be a way, there just had to be a way to free her from this wedding and ultimately, the prison King's Landing was certain to be.

It's just as she's resigning herself to her misery that something comes to her.

One of the stories she had read as a young girl, a story of a princess taken in the dead of night by an evil lord. Said princess was to be rescued by her true love, a shining knight of virtue that rides in on his white horse. And more is coming- it's not just her that is to leave on the morrow- but Jon, as well. Jon, her bastard brother, was being sent to the wall to join the Knight's Watch. He certainly would not be her knight, but if she could somehow slip in among him and the others heading out... Yes, it might possibly work.

But if it's going to work, she must work fast, as she knows the men are set to leave before morning light. And so she leaps from her bed and pulls on her dressing robe. It is late into the night, hours still from the morning call, but there is always the fear of a guard or even her father discovering her out of bed at such an hour. But she says a silent prayer to the Old Gods and then tiptoes from her room.

[ x x x ]

When the morning call comes, she's already gone, a single note hastily scratched in writing she hopes looks entirely unlike her own penmanship.

She's been gone well over an hour by then, for just as she had planned, she manages to slip away among those leaving for the Knight's Watch. With an old cloak draped over her shoulders, she keeps the hood up, shielding from those around her the red hair she's so well known for. Before leaving, she managed to snag some old breeches and shirt from the laundry, and she's braided her hair and tucked it up as much as she could. Luckily for her, she's mostly ignored by the other men, aside from one man who growls at her when she bumps into him halfway into the morning that first day.

The group walks for hours; far longer than she's certainly ever walked at one time. She's tired and she's hungry and she hurts in places she's never hurt before. But, there is a strange sense of warmth comes over her as she settles into a place of her own, away from the others, nearer to the river that runs through the forest. With no knowledge of how to build a fire, Sansa is thankful for the warmth of the summer night and hungry as she is, realizes she's far more tired than anything else. After a sleepless night and endless walking, she will forgo food if only it means she can sleep.

And so she wanders closer to the water's edge, where there beneath the canopy of darkness, she finally lowers her hood.

From where he watches, Jon finds himself intrigued by what he sees.

He can't really say what draws him to follow the hooded figure out to the river beyond simple curioisity. But now as he watches, he sees hands pulling what certainly must be pins from hair and to his shock, long hair comes tumbling down. Now he's really curious.

And just then, a cloud above them shifts and the moonlight illuminates her.

The red hair is vibrant, the pale moonlight weaving between the strands like ribbons. He's stunned, but his foot snaps a twig all the same. When she whips around, it's steel blue eyes he finds himself staring into and Jon wonders, despite sixteen years beneath the same roof as her, he's never noticed that look within her eyes. "Sansa..." Her name is on his lips before he can stop it and he realizes now that she is quite like a deer in the crosshairs, a creature torn between fight and flight.

She can't believe this.

Her fleeting sense of safety has fled, vanished into the night the moment those Stark gray eyes settled upon her. Of course, she can't now understand how she ever expected to avoid Jon forever, but she had hoped to at least be further out than this when they did meet. "Jon," she greets, taking a step away from the river and closer to where he stands. The moonlight is bright and it illuminates Jon in a way that makes her blink, makes her think. "Please..." It's the only plea she can offer, the only words that in this moment, seem right to say.

Jon studies her for a long moment; all things considered, she must have had a good reason to come. Sansa Stark wasn't the type to just... Throw it all away without a reason. Her dream of marriage to a prince was to come true, after all. Her golden haired Prince Joffrey had arrived in Winterfell only days before; a smug, ugly sort of kid that had grown tall, taller than even Robb, but one that had stolen Sansa's heart all the same. Jon wonders what could have made her do what she'd done. "I won't," he promises suddenly, earnestly.

Her face relaxes, she smiles.

She feels safe once again and it is far warmer than it was before.

[heartsmadeofbooks]

[Preview] New fic: Sing to me Instead.

Hello everyone!

I'm happy to share with you a few more details about my new fic, which is titled Sing to me Instead, after Ben Platt's amazing AMAZING album. I listened to it non-stop while I was writing Flowers in the Window and I found myself wanting to write a story based on that album as much as possible. So every chapter is influenced by lyrics from those songs.

It's a fully written roommates!AU (something I've never done before and was really looking forward to! I think I might just write my way through all the popular tropes I haven't yet written). The first chapter will be up on Wednesday, December 2nd, and it will update twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Without further ado, here's a little sneak peek. I hope you will like it :)

His first home had been in Lima, Ohio.

In a way, Kurt Hummel guessed it would always be his home, at least for as long as his father lived there. It was weird, to still think of Lima as home, considering how hard he had worked to get the hell away from there, away from homophobic douchbags, from close-minded neighbors, from a life that had always felt half-lived. Kurt had spent most of his teenage years dreaming of a city made of buildings tall enough to shield him, but large enough to finally, finally be free.

If it weren't for his dad, he wasn't sure he would ever go back. But Kurt still went home – home, when will it stop being home? – regularly, for Christmas and birthdays and every holiday he could. For someone who had been desperate enough to never step on Ohio soil again, he sure made it a priority to return as often as he could. But for his father, Kurt was willing to go to the end of the earth, and he was there, always waiting with his arms open for Kurt to come back, along with his step-mother. Family was important, and a piece of his heart always stayed with them when he had to leave them, so he guessed that Ohio would have a piece of Kurt Hummel hopefully for many, many more years.

His second home had been in Bushwick, New York.

It had been such a contrast to the small town life he had been used to, where life seemed to stop after eight in the evening. In Bushwick, Kurt could hear traffic, police car sirens and music even at three in the morning, or he could walk down the block to get ice cream at the store in the middle of the night – something that wasn't exactly wise, considering it wasn't the safest neighborhood, but the large, albeit quite run down loft, had been all eighteen-year-old Kurt and his best friend Rachel Berry had been able to afford when they first got to the city. And it had been enough, and it had been home, because it was where their dreams finally stretched their wings and attempted to fly.

They had arrived in New York with dreams of stardom. Rachel had been accepted into NYADA and Kurt had followed her despite having received a rejection letter to the same school. But he had been determined to make something of himself, to reach his goals even if the doors kept shutting in his face over and over again. He had gotten an internship – at Vogue, no less – and then reapplied to NYADA for the next term. This time, he had got in. And he never looked back.

At some point while the two of them were busy with school and work and this new life that they couldn't believe was theirs, Santana Lopez had invited herself to move in with them. She had gone to high school with them and one day simply showed up on their doorstep and announced she was staying with them, indeterminately. Kurt and Rachel had simply stared at each other, knowing there was no way to talk her out of it.

Rachel and Santana didn't always get along, which meant Kurt got caught up in their fights more often than not. Around that time, Kurt had also started working at a restaurant as a waiter, and the commute back to Bushwick so late at night became the thing he hated the most about New York.

That's when Mercedes Jones came to the rescue.

Another friend from high school – and it sometimes seemed like most of Kurt's class at McKinley High School was suddenly moving to New York – Mercedes had arrived in Manhattan after getting signed in a recording company. This wasn't only amazing because Mercedes was one of the most talented people Kurt had ever met, which was saying a lot, but also because it came with all kinds of perks, like a small but gorgeous town house in the Upper East Side, a neighborhood Kurt hadn't dreamed of living in until he was at least thirty and considerably more successful.

“Kurt, I've got a spare room,” she had said to him, when they got together for coffee one afternoon and Kurt kept going on and on about how much he hated the late commute, and how exhausting it was to get home late at night only to find Rachel and Santana having screaming matches over whatever they had disagreed on that day. “Why don't you move in with me?”

Kurt hadn't even needed to think about it. He was standing up and going around the table to hug her, saying yes over and over again.

So Kurt's third home was in the Upper East Side.

This was probably the only part of his life he truly loved at the moment. Getting to come home to this beautiful town house feels like a gift – especially since he's pretty disappointed in most of the other areas of his life. He still worked at the restaurant, and two years after graduating NYADA, he thought he would be somewhere else. He thought he would have gotten a steady job performing by now. It was frustrating how people in this town – just like in his hometown – still refused to recognize and appreciate his talent.

But Kurt had never been one for giving up.

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

_____

prev chapter

_____

Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

_____

next chapter

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 8: Old Friends, Not So New Tricks

Summary: When a familiar face turns up asking for Katie’s expertise, she finds herself confronted by another familiar face, this one being one she would rather never have had to see again.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Blood and SPOILERS if you haven’t seen Agents Of SHIELD….

A/N: Once again huge thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her edit here, and the new banner for the next couple of sections of the story as we head forward through the next few parts of SSB...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 7

O/S: Phobias

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

November 2013

There’s a fine line  between success and failure. And that last mission had well and truly teetered its way along the edge. The team had been split up after a catastrophic coms failure leaving Katie and Evans badly compromised.  They had just about got the situation under control after some quick thinking from Katie and very sharp shooting from Evans, when Steve had broken every protocol in place and run head first into a gun fire to get them out, putting himself in danger.

And Katie was livid at him.

“We had it under control!” she said, her voice raised as she stormed through the corridor away from the hangar, people turning to look. They’d been arguing about it all the way home.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look like it from where I was standing!”

“Damned it Steve!” She spun to face him. “You weren’t standing anywhere, you were running, head first into the crossfire without even thinking about what was going on!”

“The last thing I heard was that you were surrounded-”

“This is EXACTLY what I don’t want you to do!” Katie groaned as she ran her hands over her face “Run in there without a second thought for your own damned safety or anyone else’s.”

“What do you mean anyone else?” Steve’s nostrils flared.

“You left Rumlow and Rollins completely uncovered,” Katie shook her head, “to come and save me. I’m not a fucking princess that needs rescuing Steve!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Steve’s voice was loud, displaying the anger he was feeling inside at her attitude. 

“I’ll talk to you how I want!” She snapped back. “You know everyone gossips enough about us as it is and we’re almost seven months down the fucking line…”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“…and yet you STILL give them fuel!” She threw her hands out to the side, bringing them back down to her combat outfit clad sides with a slap. “Oh look at Nova, needs her Super Soldier Boyfriend to bail her out!”

“For the last time…” Steve hissed between his teeth, but Katie completely ignored him.

“If you can’t remain objective when we work together then maybe we shouldn’t be on the same team.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t if that’s how you feel!” He practically snarled, as he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders back as his hands dropped to his belt buckle, eyes blazing. 

“Glad we understand one another.” Katie spat back, before turning on her heel and heading towards the armoury to change, ignoring his shouts.

****

After debrief, for the first time in ages Steve left work alone. He was in a foul mood, and practically wrenched his apartment door off its hinges. In part he was pissed at Katie’s attitude, but in others his anger was directed at himself because deep down he knew she was right. He’d utterly lost it when he’d heard she was in trouble and hadn’t been able to do anything else but rush in there to help get them out. It was ridiculous, she was a trained agent with a shot on her like you wouldn’t believe, and the amount of times they’d been in bad situations before…but something today, something about the way she’d sounded on the radio had gotten to him and he’d abandoned all thoughts of professionalism and gone after his girl.

Sighing he threw his keys down on the kitchen side and grabbed a beer from the fridge before making his way into the living room, toeing off his boots as he want. He dropped onto the sofa and let out a loud moan of frustration, his head lolling back against the cushions. He hated that they’d rowed, this was the first big argument they’d actually had. Sure they quibbled about small things, the fact he made her sleep on the right hand side of the bed at his because it was furthest away from the door (just in case anyone got in), the way he was a bit of a neat freak and when she did stay for more than a night his apartment looked like a whirlwind had been through it (Ok, he didn’t actually mind that so much in truth), the way she tried on every fucking outfit she owned before they went out (maybe not every outfit, but close enough…), the way he often went for a run first thing in the morning and she’d get pissed he wasn’t there when she woke up because…well, because….but all that was stuff he adored. The normal part of being with someone you were comfortable sharing your life with.

As he took a pull from his bottle his eyes rolled to the right and fell on the large photo frame on his wall. It was one she had made him for his birthday.

“Open the big one first…” She instructed, nodding to the gifts that were piled on his sofa.

He did as he was told without saying a word, picking it up and resting it on his lap. It felt like a photo frame. As he peeled back the wrapping paper he realised that’s exactly what it was. It was large with glossy pine edges to match the furniture in his apartment and filled with photos of him all from his life before the ice and his eyes grew large as he took in the faces that looked back up at him. There was a photo of him and Bucky as kids, another as teenagers, then one of them in the army- the one of them laughing that Katie had said she loved. His eyes began to mist over as he saw a few shots of his parents at their wedding in Ireland, on the steps of their tenement building at Brooklyn, one of him and his mom when he was a small boy, then he spotted one of him and Howard along with various shots of him with the Howling Commandos and finally one of him, Colonel Chester Phillips and Peggy. And at the bottom of the frame, on a silver plaque was engraved a quote from the Wizard of Oz- ”A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”

“I thought it was a shame to just keep them in a box.” Katie said gently as she sat next to him. “I wanted you to see them every day and remember you meant as much to them as they did or do to you.”

His fingers trailed over the various faces in the frame as the memories flooded his brain and he felt a lump in his throat at the wave of nostalgia crossing over him, and also at the utter thoughtfulness that had gone into her gift.

 “I picked what I thought were the nicest ones.” She continued and he was aware her tone was growing nervous. “But we can swap them if…”

“Katie,” his voice was croaky as he cut her off and looked up at her. He was right, she was biting her lip, worried that she had upset him but nothing could be further from the truth. He moved to take her face in his hands and he kissed her, hard. He pulled away and looked at her speaking with utter honesty and sincerity “This is amazing, Darlin’. Thank you so much.”

Letting out a sigh, Steve’s eyes dropped from the wall to a smaller frame on the sideboard, this one contained a photo of him and Katie a ‘selfie’ of the two of them at the Top of the Rock, taken when they had gone back to New York to visit Tony one weekend in October. He loved it, the pair of them grinning like idiots, Katie wearing a baby blue sparkly beany and matching scarf, her smile genuine and him looking like a loves-struck idiot, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he glanced at the camera. She had the same photo in her living room too.

No, he couldn’t go to bed without sorting this out. Abandoning his half-drunk bottle of Sam Adams, he shoved his shoes back on, grabbed his keys and headed out.

****

Katie didn’t even stay for debrief, more to piss Steve off than anything. It was petty, yes but she was absolutely raging at him. Their relationship had been the talk of the Triskelion for months, and for that reason, they had behaved nothing but professionally on missions, wanting to prove to not only everyone they worked with, but to themselves, that they could remain objective in their work and that them being together wouldn’t compromise the way they behaved in the field. 

And now he had fucked that.

She ignored his call which came just as she got home and throwing her phone onto the sofa she grabbed a glass of wine and ran herself a bath, turning her music up loud. She lay back under the bubbles, gently humming along to the music. Music was her thing to calm down to. She’d always played piano, right from the age of four when her mom had taught her, and she wasn’t bad at it either.

The mellow sounds of John Legend’s ‘Ordinary People’ faded into the opening notes of ‘Only One In Color’ by Trapt, and Katie paused, smiling. This song took her years back, to nights in London with colleagues in bars, and then a concert in Orlando in 2009…and Steve, it took her back to Steve and one rainy afternoon in August.

Katie shimmied around, folding laundry and dropping it into the basket as she sang, loudly. It had been ages since she’d done this, just danced around her apartment like an idiot. She turned round to grab the final load out of the machine and screamed as Steve was stood in the doorway, arms folded, leaning against the frame, that annoyingly cute smirk on his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Jesus, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough” He grinned, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled into her neck and the two of them stood there, still, listening to the song that was playing.

“What is it?” Steve asked, pressing a kiss to the spot just below her ear..

“It’s called Only One In Color, by a band called Trapt.” Katie replied, turning her head to look at him. “It kinda reminds me of you actually.”

Steve smiled as they listened for another second before he moved back, his hand taking hers as he raised it above their heads and spun her round, playfully as she laughed, before he pulled him to her.

“Dance with me.”

“What, here? In my apartment?”

“Our own private ballroom.”

“You’ve never danced before.” Katie looked up at him. “You told me.”

“I know, Peggy was right.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “I was waiting for the right partner. So, what do you say? Teach me?”

“You know I don’t really know a lot of steps.” Katie felt a smile spread across her face as Steve placed his free hand on the curve of her waist and she began to lead them around on the spot, her right hand held in his left, her left curling up and over his right shoulder. She watched Steve, who was concentrating so hard that his brows pinched together slightly, a look that was incredibly endearing.

“Stop over thinking it.” She said gently, looking up at him. “Listen to the music and just let go.”

So he did. He let go, listening to the melody and the words, smiling a little as the lyrics hit home, really making him think about the woman in his arms. She had brought colour to his life, given him a reason to keep going in this world he had found so strange and, well, daunting. As he found his rhythm, he felt the smile pull even broader on his lips. He raised his head from where his eyes had been focussing on his feet and his girl beamed up at him, squeezing the hand that she held.

“See, it’s not that hard is it?” She giggled. Steve returned the grin and shook his head.

“Surprisingly not.” He admitted. They continued to revolve around the space in the doorway between her kitchen and laundry room and Katie lay her head on his chest, Steve’s face automatically turning down slightly so his cheek was resting against her hair. After a minute or so Katie felt him move and instinctively she looked up and could do nothing but smile as they stopped dancing and their mouths drifted closer together. Her hand slipped up, fingers stretching themselves into the short hair at the nape of his neck as his lips met hers, his hand creeping across her back, large palm pressed firmly against her spine. 

They never made it to the bedroom, they made it as far as the couch before they were both naked and going at it like a couple of horny fucking teenagers. And since then it had been ‘their’ song.

Katie sighed and drained her wine glass before she set about washing her hair and climbed out of the bath. She dressed in a pair of shorts and a hoodie before pulling her damp hair back into a French braid and had just settled on the sofa to watch TV when the buzzer to her apartment went. Picking up her phone to look at the security camera she took a deep breath and realised it was Steve.

“Sweetheart let me in. My key card is at home.”

She gave no response.

“I’m not going till you do, you know I could do this all day. Or all night.”

Still no response.

“I mean it’s a pretty interesting buzzer.”

With a groan, knowing full well the stubborn little shit in him would do just that, she pressed the button to let him in. Half a minute or so later the alert went again to signal he had requested access to her floor. Once more she tapped to accept and turned her attention back to the TV. She didn’t look up as the elevator door in the panel in her wall slid open, keeping her eyes focussed on the television as he strode into the room, heading straight for her once he’d hung his jacket up on the hooks to the right of the elevator.

“You were gonna watch this without me?” Hesaid gently, nodding to the episode of ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’ that was playing as he dropped down next to her.

“Yes.” She replied simply, her arms folded.

Steve fought the smile spreading across his face at her childishness. He knew if she was mad the worst thing he could do was laugh at her and make her think he wasn’t taking her seriously. So, he took a deep breath and turned so he was facing her on the couch, arm resting along the back.”

“I know you’re pissed at me.” He sighed. “But come on Doll, I hate fighting with you.”

“Then stop being a dick.” She snarked back. Steve took another deep breath and looked at her as she continued. “You know what it’s like at work, everyone has constantly analysed everything I do because, hello, Howard Stark’s daughter, and today…”

She trailed off and Steve looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I know. I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t handle yourself.”

They fell into silence and Katie exhaled sharply, deciding to meet him half way. She knew he hadn’t meant to make her feel like he had but, there was also a part of her that had been scared. Not just for her and Evans, but seeing Steve rush in, headfirst with no regard for his own safety just to get to her had really frightened her. Despite his enhanced nature, he wasn’t invincible.

“You need to trust me when I’m out there.” She spoke, her voice was softe.

“I do trust you, you know that.” He looked at her. “But I’m not gonna apologize for looking out for you, Sweetheart. It’s my job. Both as your Captain and your man.”

“I get that, I do.” Katie sighed. “But you put yourself in danger today, running straight into the middle of a fire fight…can you imagine what I’d have done if you’d have been…”

She trailed off, swallowing and took a deep breath before she continued and her words hit Steve. He hadn’t considered she had felt as worried about him as he had her.  

“We have to remain objective, and if that means you can’t just abandon the team for me.”

“I know, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He said finally.

She looked at him and took a deep breath, the anger dissipating at his apology and moved to give him a hug, her arms round his shoulders as he wrapped his around her back and pulled her clumsily into his lap.

 “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.” She sighed as she lay her head against his.

“Forgiven?” He asked and she looked down at him, he was giving her his puppy dog eyes. She rolled her own, she couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but adore the fact he cared so deeply for her that he’d rush in, head first with no regard for anything else.

“Captain Dumbass.” She grumbled, before giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess so.” He chuckled. And when she didn’t protest he gently tapped her thigh, and knowing what he wanted she shifted off his lap so he could lay down flat on the sofa, allowing her to drape herself over him like  blanket, head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back, legs tangling together as they settled in to watch their programme.

*****

Katie hadn’t been in the office for five minutes the next morning when she got a message to say Fury wanted to see her. In the years she had known the director, she still found it hard to get a read on him and this time was no exception. She stepped into his office and he nodded to her, and without a word got straight to business, leading her over to the screen on the wall by the sofas.

“I was wondering what you made of this.” He said nodding to the large screen on the wall. The photo displayed was of a tree trunk, cut in half and running down the middle was a long, tube like shape, with some markings on it. The photo zoomed in and Katie frowned.

“These look like the markings on Thor’s hammer.” She looked at the Director.

“Funny you should say that.” Fury nodded. “Because the Spectrographic signatures match the readings from Thor’s hammer too.”

“So whatever was in that tree was Asgardian?”

Fury nodded. “It looks that way, Nova, yes.”

“Where was it found?”

“That’s a trunk from a Norwegian spruce in Trillmarka National Park, Norway.”

“Figures.” Katie bit her lip.

“How do you mean?” Fury looked at her.

“The legends of Thor, they all have origins in Norway. When I asked him about it, Thor explained that Asgardians visited Earth thousands of years ago.” She explained. “They roamed Norway, mingling with the old Norse people, but back then, because humans couldn’t understand the concept of people from another planet, these, well, these aliens were revered as Gods.”

Fury gave a noise of understanding.  

“So who took it?” She asked. “Has Thor been back since the whole incident in Greenwich or…”

“I wish he had, then I wouldn’t really give a shit.” Fury sighed. “This thing has gone AWOL. According to my team on the ground, it was taken by a woman and a man, very much of Earth”

“Great.”  Katie rolled her eyes, before she continued, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Because every time something alien lands in human hands that ends well.”  

Fury gave a snort and pressed a button on a remote and she turned her attention to the TV on the wall of the office. It was screening a news broadcast, footage of a riot. The runner on the bottom of the screen identified the location as Oslo.

“The rioting has left twenty injured and three in a critical condition. Reports indicate that the group of about a dozen was led by this man and woman.”

A picture of the culprits filled the screen. The man was tall, dark haired, dark eyed and had a short beard. The woman, in contrast was slight, blonde and with icy blue eyes.

“And although their motive was unclear, the message was spelled out on the streets of Oslo, for all to see”

“It looks like the item has given them powers beyond those of normal humans.” Fury spoke as the newscast panned over to a fire on the street, this time an aerial view. The fire spelt out the words “We are Gods”.

“So what do you need me to do?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“I’m gonna need you to work with one of my field teams.” Fury continued, looking at her. “My best field team, actually. I want you to help them track these guys down. You have a decent knowledge on Asgardian and Mythological history and the team could do with someone with a little background on the subject.”

“Sir, if these people are as powerful as this report is saying, shouldn’t we consider at least trying to contact Thor, possibly the rest of the Avengers?” Katie looked at him.

 “No.” Fury’s response was instantaneous. “I don’t want the Avengers involving. It would attract too much attention.”

“With all due respect, they just set a street on fire. I dare say it’s already attracting a fair amount of attention so whats-“ She trailed off as Fury looked at her, an expression on his face that Katie knew extremely well having seen it several times before. The expression he wore when he was about to drop a bombshell. “Oh, what are you hiding Nick?” She frowned.

“I want you to understand that you’ve been kept in the dark about this so far for a reason. And I know you’re going to get emotional, but if you could refrain from throwing that coffee you’re holding, Nova, I’d appreciate it.”

“Dark about what?” She pressed, her tone irritated. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.

Agent Fury pressed a button on his phone on his desk. “Alright, you’re up.” And with that the TV snapped onto a different channel and she turned to see a familiar man sat in a chair on the screen.

Katie didn’t throw the coffee, instead it slipped from her hands as her mouth dropped open and the entire room swam in front of her eyes.

“Sorry, boss. The God rabbited” 

“Just stay awake. EYES ON ME!” 

“No. I’m clocked out here.” 

“Not an option!” 

The room came back into focus again and she looked from the screen to Fury, then back. “This…this is impossible.” She stammered.

“I’d have said the same thing myself not long ago.” Phil Coulson gave a shy little smile.

Katie found herself floundering for words before the anger at the lies and deceit bubbled up.

“No, you…you died! I was there, I saw it!”

“Excellent medics.” Fury concluded.

“They took you away, in a body bag!” Katie’s voice rose to a yell as she ran her hands over her face, unable to believe what she was seeing. She’d cried, mourned the loss of one of her friends, a man who had been her mentor. She looked at Coulson on the screen, and then away again, her eyes misting up slightly.

“No one knew I’d pulled through until after New York.“ Coulson spoke softly “I spent months recovering in Tahiti. It’s a magical place.”

“I want your word that you will not reveal Agent Coulson is alive to anyone.” Fury spoke and Katie turned to look at him, her face curling up in an angry sneer. “I debated long and hard about pulling you into this but we need you.”

Katie eyed the director, chin jutting upwards as she glared at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of the lies?”

“I have no option.” Fury’s face was stern. “I can’t risk the Avengers falling apart.”

“I’m not lying to them for you.” She shook her head “No way. A team is built on trust. Without that you have nohing.”

Fury looked at her for a moment, before he sighed. “That wasn’t a request, Agent Stark. If you tell anyone I’ll remove you from service.”

“So now you’re blackmailing me?”

“I’m merely pointing out your options.” Fury replied simply.

“You are unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Fuck you. Fuck this.”

She turned to walk out of the door before Coulson’s voice rang across the room.

“Katie, please. We wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t urgent, but we really do need your help

The use of her first name, not her code name, made Katie stop in her tracks. Taking a deep breath she spun back, fire in her eyes as she glared at Coulson’s image on the screen. “Why should I?”

“Because, ” Coulson continued, “you’re the only one I trust enough with this.”

Katie ran her hands over her face, torn between wanting to leave and her desire, sorry, duty to help. In the end her duty won out and she felt her shoulders slump as she looked back towards the two men, giving them both a curt nod.

“Fine, but that does not mean that I’m happy about this. Any of it.”

“You’ll rendezvous with the Bus in Oslow.” Fury instructed, ignoring her emotion completely. “There’s a Jet being prepped to take the new shift of mobile STRIKE team members out as we speak. You can go with them.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. With a final roll of her eyes she made to leave the room before Fury called after her.

“Agent Stark.”

“What?” she demanded as she spun round, fixing her eyes on his.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But I had to do it.”

She swallowed, before she turned and left, not trusting herself to respond.  

*****

Steve was looking for Katie, he knew she’d been to see Fury and was eager to find out what it was about. After asking a few agents if they’d seen her he finally tracked her to one of the kitchens where she was sat, hugging a cup of coffee like her life depended on it, staring down at the table. He frowned, she looked absolutely beat.

“Sweetheart?” He asked tentatively as she looked up at him. His frown deepened when he saw her face. She looked distraught. “Honey, what is it?”

One look in his eyes and Katie knew she couldn’t lie to him, she didn’t want to lie to him. Fuck Fury, fuck all of this.

“Coulson…he…” She stammered, looking up at Steve, her eyes wet.

“What about him?” Steve frowned.

She took a deep breath, tears now rolling down her face. “He’s alive, Steve, he’s fucking alive.”

And then the dam broke and she began to sob. Steve instantly went into autopilot, pulling out a spare chair and moving it close to her so he could wrap his arms around her as she cried into his tevlar clad chest, his own mind whirling at the news.

Eventually she calmed down to tell him everything. And Steve listened, not saying a word, simply holding her hand, his thumb skating over her knuckles as she spoke. He did, however, make an angry noise that was half way between a snort and a growl when she told him Fury had threatened to sack her if she told anyone.

“I honestly thought I’d seen it all, that nothing life threw up would ever surprise me again.” She sighed looking at Steve as she finished explaining.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” He smiled softly and she spluttered a watery laugh through her tears, remembering what she’d said to him the first time they had met. “There’s my girl.” Steve reached over to gently brush her cheek with his hand. “I like it better when you smile.”

“Sorry, but I’m so angry. Fury is lying, again! Has he learnt nothing from everything that’s happened over the past few years?”

Steve didn’t say anything, merely studied her face for a moment and then both of them turned their attention to the door when one of the Junior Agents appeared.

“Agent Stark, Director Fury asked me to tell you we’re wheels up in an hour.”

“Thanks.” She nodded, sniffing before she looked at Steve. “I don’t even have time to pack.”

“You got some stuff in your locker, right?”

She nodded. She always had a few days’ worth of clothes in her locker and toiletries to hand, just in case. She ran her hands over her face and stood up. “You know, I don’t even know who I’m meeting!” She shook her head. “Other than Fitz and Simmons, I’ve no idea who Coulson has on The Bus.”

“Whoever it is I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Steve assured her. “And I know it’s shitty but they asked for you for a reason.”

“Suppose I best make the most of it, seeing as it will be my last mission, you know, on account of me telling you.”

“It won’t come to that.” Steve shook his head “I’m not gonna tell anyone I know.”

“Fury always finds out.” Katie sighed. “Tony is right about him. His spies have spies.”

Thirty minutes later she was walking to the hangar, suited in her SHIELD cat suit, Steve carrying her holdall for her as they walked. The Captain didn’t like this, he hated that she was effectively being manipulated and he would have loved nothing more than to give Fury a piece of his mind but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t supposed to know. They reached the bottom of the jet and Katie turned to him as he handed her bag to one of the agents who nodded to them both.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” She promised as Steve looked down at her and nodded

“Make sure you do.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not sure how I’m gonna cope without my best girl.”

“Your best girl?” She teased. “How many others do you have?”

“One or two.” He shrugged. “But they’re in different states, so, they don’t count, right?”

She gave a laugh as she shook her head. “Jerk.”

Steve chuckled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You know you’re the only one for me, Doll.” He dropped a soft kiss to her lips. “Just go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer, although both still well aware that they were in the middle of a very busy hangar, surrounded by a lot of people. Sighing, Katie pulled back and allowed herself to melt into his arms for a quick hug before she stepped back.

“I love you.” She said gently.

“You too. Be careful.” He looked at her, his features verging on stern with his warning.

“I’m always careful.” She grinned, walking backwards up the ramp, wanting to look at him for as long as possible.

“Well that’s just an out and out lie.” He raised an eyebrow, hands dropping to the buckle of his belt.

She grinned, blew him a kiss and then disappeared into the main part of the jet. Steve watched for a second as the ramp shut before he turned and left the hangar.

*****

The flight over to Oslow wasn’t too long. Katie used the time to do as much reading up on the item they were tracking as possible, going through all the files that Coulson had sent her. Eventually they docked with The Bus and her and the other agents made their way to the Air Lock. The doors shut and the capsule took them down a level before the frosted glass doors opened and there, stood in front of her, was Phil Coulson. The other agents pushed past, clearly fine at the sight of a dead-not-dead man in front of them.

There was a moment’s hesitation, where Coulson and Katie simply looked at each other, and then Katie’s anger boiled over and she stepped forwards, slapping him, hard across the face. The agents who were milling around all paused as Coulson’s head snapped to the side.

“Guess I deserved that…” He said, turning his head back to look at her as everyone hastily carried on with their jobs.

As Katie stared at her old mentor, her anger melted away and with a little sigh she threw her arms around him.  Coulson squeezed her back, before Katie moved a little to look at him, before she spoke for the first time.

“Good to see you again. Not dead, I mean.”

Phil gave a chuckle. “You too Nova. Come on, the rest of the team are waiting in the lab.”

He led her down the hall, Katie following, her eyes taking in her surroundings before Coulson stopped at the end of a corridor, near a door to a room that she could see had a glass wall.

“Now, before you go in, there’s something else you should know.” Coulson turned to face her and she looked at him, letting out an angry groan.

“What now?”

“I want you to know, Fury didn’t want me to tell you as he didn’t think you would come, it wasn’t my decision to keep it from you.”

“Keep what from me?” Her temper was flaring again. “I swear to God AC I am this close…”she held her fingers an inch apart, “to losing my shit!”

Coulson hesitated for a moment and then opened the door to the lab. As they walked in six people all looked up from what they’d been watching and turned to face them. One of them was a dark haired girl she didn’t know and next to her were Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz who Katie knew from the labs when they had worked with Lawson. Then she spotted Melinda May, an agent only rivalled in fighting skills by Natasha.

And then a pair of familiar dark eyes met hers as another familiar face looked up from a tablet.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Katie muttered and she turned to Coulson who shrugged apologetically.

“Good to see you too.” Ward grinned as Katie folded her arms and glared at him.

There was a moment’s pause as the two simply stared at one another, Katie’s teeth grinding together in irritation, before the girl with the dark hair spoke. “Okay, so this is awkward…”

“And this is Skye.” Coulson spoke, breaking up the tension. “She’s a…”

“Hacker.” May supplied, at the same time Skye replied, “consultant”

Katie was really struggling to keep her temper under control now, so missed the irritated glare Skye shot at May. First Coulson, now this. Fury was going to absolutely get the full Stark-slash-Supernova explosion when she got back.

“So, shall we get down to business?” Coulson asked, spotting the look on Katie’s face, realising she needed to focus on something else. “What have you got?”

“We’ve managed to identify our thieves.” May spoke as Sky pressed something on the tablet she was holding. A close up of the woman’s face appeared on the holo-projector in the middle of the room.  “Her name is Petra Larson”

“And this is Jakob Nystrom, her boyfriend. Both thirty.  Leaders of a Norse Paganist hate group”

 “And their numbers are growing thanks to what happened in London and the internet” Sky scoffed. “Yay internet,”

“Norse Paganist?” Simmons questioned

“Obsessed with anything derived from Norse mythology, stories of Asgard, yada yada.” Skye explained. 

“And now a weapon.” Ward gestured to a long object on the table which Katie hadn’t noticed until that point.

“Is that a 3-d print?” She asked, instantly captivated by the item, looking at Fitz who nodded. “May I?”

“Of course…” He said. Katie picked it up and turned it over in her hands, testing the weight as she scanned it up and down. The detailing was exquisite.

“The scan accounted for only one side.” Fitz explained. “There was too much damage to the tree for a complete reproduction”.

“But, see here, it’s clearly broken on both ends.” Katie held it up. “So there are more pieces.”

“Yeah, two at least” Fitz responded, nodding.

“Which means Sid and Nancy may be looking for a complete set.” Ward spoke as Coulson turned to Katie.

“The markings. Just as you said on the call they’re Asgardian symbolism.”

She looked at the item in her hand and nodded. “Similar to Thor’s hammer.”

“Yeah, hard to translate with our limited knowledge.” Couslon shrugged.

“You should give your buddy the God of Thunder a shout.” Sky spoke “He gets his powers from his hammer, right? What if this is his nail to the hammer?”

“He’s off grid.” Coulson looked at her. “And if he has a cell-phone, we don’t have the number.

“I told to get him a pager.” Katie muttered as she peered at the rod and then something stirred in her mind, and she began racking her brains. There was something similar about this, something that she’d seen or read before, if she could only remember what.

“So,” May looked at Katie, “SHIELD’s investigations are on the trail of Nystrom and his followers.”

“We’re charged with identifying the object and finding any other pieces before they do.” Coulson finished.

Katie nodded, still thinking. “If this acts in the same way as Thor’s hammer then that’s a sensible task.”

And then she trailed off as it suddenly hit her exactly what it was she’d been trying to remember.

“No, it can’t be.” She muttered as Coulson looked at her questioningly. She nodded to the item in her hand and then looked back at him. “I could be wrong but this…this could be a piece of the Beserker Staff.”

“The what?”  Ward frowned.

“It’s from an old legend that a great warrior, from another world came to Earth” Katie spoke, recalling the research she’d done once upon a time. “He had in his possession a magical staff but he loved Earth so much he never left, and he broke the staff into pieces and hid them.”

“Any idea on where?” Coulson asked.  Katie shook her head.

 “Well our Pagan friends certainly seem to have some advantage on that front.” Ward sighed. “They found this thing in a hundred and fifty square kilometres of Norwegian forest.”

“Guys, what if it called to them with magic?” Sky asked, her eyes going large and excited.

“Called to them?” May shot her a ‘be real’ look in response.

“We know it’s Asgardian, so the rules are a little bendy here.” Skye pressed.

“Just because we don’t understand something yet doesn’t mean we should regress back to the dark ages, talking of magic and fairy tales” Simmons shook her head and Fitz scoffed his agreement.

“Actually, that’s exactly what we need to do.” Katie looked around as the idea came to her.

“Excuse me?” Simmons asked.

Ignoring him, Katie turned to Agent Coulson. “Remember when we first found the hammer in New Mexico, and I told Fury to consult with an expert on Norse Mythology to fill the gaps.”

“Elliot Randolph,” Phil nodded.

“We should speak to him, he’ll know more about it than me.”

“Alright.” Coulson nodded, looking at May. “He’s a professor at the University of Seville. Set the course, let’s pay him a visit.”

“Shouldn’t take us too long.” May shrugged “But it is getting kinda late. By the time we get there it will be past eight in the evening local time. Can I suggest we head out first thing tomorrow morning?”

Coulson nodded. “Alright. Sounds like a plan. Okay team, lets wrap it up here and get something to eat. Think we’ve earned it.” He then turned to Katie, gesturing with his head for her to follow him out of the room.

He led her down a few more corridors and to a flight of steps which led up to the upper deck of the large airship.

“The Accommodation is probably a bit smaller than you’re used to, but…”

 “If it’s that bad imma find a hotel.” She shrugged as she followed Coulson down the corridor.

“What and miss all the fun?” Phil looked over his shoulder. “I’ve had the gin bar stocked specially.”

“Yeah, for the record that isn’t going to take away from the fact that I’m utterly pissed at you and Fury”

“I know you well enough Nova to not even hope that would be the case” Coulson snorted as they turned right. Eventually they reached the living area and Coulson led her to one of the spare rooms.

It wasn’t as bad as Coulson made it out to be, a bed that was slightly bigger than a single but not a full double, with a small wardrobe and a small basin to the side.

“This isn’t so bad.” She turned to Phil who was watching her a little cautiously.

“Glad it meets your approval.” He nodded, leaning in the door way before he took a deep breath. “Look, I really am sorry about all of this. I wouldn’t have-“

“Let’s just find that thing and then I can go home.” Katie cut him off, not in the mood for anymore apologies or explanations. She had a job to do, and the sooner she did it, the sooner she could get back.

“That’s the plan.” Coulson nodded. “I’ll be in the bar in an hour or so, got a few things to sort out before but, well, it would be nice if we could catch up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Katie replied. There was a pause before Coulson gave her another curt nod.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

With that he turned and left and Katie’s eyes fixed on the now empty doorway. With a purposeful stride, she moved forward and pressed her palm to the pad at the side, the door sliding shut with a slight click.

Katie turned around, looking at her bag which had been placed at the foot of her bed and with a loud, angry groan of frustration she flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

***** Chapter 9

**Original Posting**

[asscreeds]

Heila - Chapter 4

thank you again to @freyastrider​ for letting me yoink your screenshots :’D

TW for graphic descriptions of violence & death. Read on AO3 | Masterlist

The cool midday wind blew from the North, hastening the journey by longship, and Eivor thanked the Gods for their favor today. Curled up at the Wolf's feet, Nali hissed at Dag almost comically when he had boarded, scarcely recognizing the man, making Eivor chuckle. Not even five minutes into the journey, Dag started up another one of his stories, and Eivor did not realize how much she had missed the man's silly tales until her crew burst out into laughter at something absurd he said, the Wolf-Kissed joining in heartily.

Four hours passed and they had just passed Roucistere. By then the sun had sunk further into the sky, sending its rays into everyone's eyes and turning the sky and eastern sea a beautiful gold. Were it any other day, Eivor would have found the scenery beautiful, yet even with Dag's stories and the lightheartedness of the journey as her and her vikingr were reunited on the ship once again, she could only think of the battle ahead and prayed that it would go smoothly. 

Thinking back to your sobbing form made her heart squeeze with some unknown emotion; she could not decide if it was pity or something else. The name 'Gunnar' stuck in her mind. Who was the man to you? Part of your clan, obviously, but what was he to you? A companion? Brother? Lover, maybe? Despite her trailing thoughts she surmised it was not for her to know and began chastising herself for even pondering. It was not important to her; what mattered was honoring her promise to you and seeing that he and the others were returned to you safely.

As they pulled into the docks, Eivor could see a few of her men that had been sent forward earlier in the day had already set up a small camp above the beach, higher on the hillside where the two-dozen horses could graze and rest. Jumping from the lypting of the ship to the dock she bid her vikingr follow her up the hill to the forward camp, the raiders most grateful for being able to stretch their legs after the journey. 

As they gathered about the campfire, she called for their attention. "From what the scouts have told, the Danes are being held to the southwest of the barracks, near the most open portion of the city. There is a northern gate near the barracks that leads to the heart of the city that we will rush through. If two or three could ride forward to fire arrows and slay the gate's guards, we will catch them off guard and ride forward with little problems. The issue lies in exiting the city once we have freed the Danes, as the northern gate will be undoubtedly crowded with the soldiers from the barracks. We may either leave by the most western yet farthest gate, or the closer eastern gate - it depends on how the guards will react. Whatever happens, stick together," she explained, and her vikingr nodded, some cheering. Before letting them mount the horses she added in one final thing: "Remember, these are people who have been scarcely fed for days and been treated as animals. There is a very low chance that they will be able to defend themselves if they are targeted - load them onto the backs of your horses, then ride as fast as you can. Do not engage in battle unless you must, if you are outnumbered or are blocked from pushing forward. If all goes well we will overwhelm them with the suddenness of our attack and we will be able to slip in and out with little issue."

Then she let them go, and they each mounted a horse, standing near the mouth of the road waiting for her to lead them. To her surprise she found her personal mount among the horses; Askr, the rowdy, black destrier stallion she had purchased from Rowan a few months ago, whom she had just recently bonded with enough to be able to ride him into the heart of battle. Patting his nose, she mumbled, "I pray to Thor that you will not suddenly turn your heart in the middle of this and buck me," and then took her seat in his rune-inscribed saddle. The horse only gave her a side-eye and snorted.

Walking Askr forward to the road, she raised her fist to the sky, looking at the vikingr. "To Canterbury!" she cried, and the resounding war cries of the warriors hastened their mounts forward into a comfortable gallop on the stone road. By now the sun had eased down into the horizon, and they would reach the city hopefully just in time for the gap in guard rotation as the day rota switched for the night. 

Even in the dim light of dusk Eivor could still see the steeples of the church rise into the sky as they rode over the hill, and then Eivor pulled them all to a slow trot. Much to her delight, they had just begun lighting torches for the night and even from a distance she could see only one lone guard at the northern gate. Looking over and nodding to an archer, she sent them forward to deal with him before they rushed in and the guard could call for help. "Light your torch near the gate once you have dealt with him." One Norseman would only puzzle him, instead of seeing an entire raiding party descending down the hill like a flood.

By now the last light of the sun had nearly gone, and the sky turned a deep indigo as the first stars began to shine and the slim crescent moon began to rise higher. For what was about to transpire, it was such an incredibly calm night; a gentle breeze, the soft chorus of crickets, the hooting of an owl nearby. As they crested over the hill in definite eyesight of any eagle-eyed guardsmen she saw the torch of the archer being waved around near the gate; their signal. Bidding Askr into a canter, she and her warriors rode forth to the gate, meeting with the archer that had remounted their horse. The breach was quiet, and though the thunder of the horses' steps were a dead giveaway, it seemed that scarcely anyone had noticed their arrival. Good.

 Things did not go so smoothly once they rounded the corner to the area where the Danes were kept. Almost instantly four or five guards jumped up with weapons drawn from where they had been conversing around a table, and Eivor could only give a smirk as she and a few others drew their bows back to release a volley of arrows upon the men, not missing a single mark. They quickly fell, and she rushed forward to the imprisoned Danes. Despite their cages being secured with a lock and her nor the guards having the key for them they bent and broke easily enough. Drawing out her torch and stepping forward into the cage she was met by sad, sunken eyes that should have never belonged to any human being. Slowly, she approached them.

"I have been sent by y/n to rescue you. We will help you to mount the horses, take you to our longship and to Ravensthorpe where you will be fed and bathed," she said quietly, and immediately some burst into tears, rejoicing, others staring ahead quietly afraid. In all there were only maybe a dozen of them, four women and eight men divided into separate cages, all as visibly ill as the next. She did not ask any of them for their names.

As the fifth Dane was paired to a horse, a patrol rounded the corner to the clearing, and Eivor felt the rush of adrenaline blanket her mind. They were met with swift swords to their shields almost instantaneously as her vikingr beat them back away from the Danes, and the shouting from the conflict seemed to wake the entire city. Another two Danes were paired, and suddenly the church's bells began to ring, splitting the calm air of the night in two. Shit.

Moving as fast as she could she lifted a large man with bright blue eyes to rival her own onto her shoulders, placing him on the back of her horse. The man groaned with the movement and in her torchlight she could see dried bloodstains about his torso; another sad victim. She bid him to wait, leading Askr a few paces away in a shadowed alleyway between buildings to hide, and then ran back to the others to continue to pair the ninth, tenth, and eleventh Dane.

By now many of the Saxon guardsmen knew what was happening and descended upon the warriors like fighting dogs, and though the Raven Clan had a mounted advantage they were beginning to be pushed back into the clearing. Some had already fled, beginning the ride back to the longship. Eivor prayed that they would not be followed. 

 Grabbing the final Dane was where things went sour. An arrow flew right into the eyesocket of a Danish woman, who fell limp in the saddle and shocked the warrior at the front with the sudden dead weight at their back. More heavily-armored guards rushed in from the barracks and were poking and slashing at the horses chests, spooking them; little by little they were losing ground and precious time. The last prisoner secured, and with a final push from the guards, Eivor mounted Askr and commanded her warriors to follow her and run. They galloped higher into the city, heading towards the eastern gate with hopes of escaping cleanly - unfortunately, these guards were intelligent and had swarmed not only the east gate, but all other exits, too. They were penned in. 

Eivor could not see any other solution. Pushing Askr into a hard gallop she rode forward as archers stationed in the barbican above the gate released their arrows and the Wolf-Kissed had raised her shield just in time to prevent them from piercing her and the man's flesh. Some others were not so lucky nor swift enough. Three more Danes were struck by arrows. In the pause of archers knocking arrows again her vikingr rushed behind her, yet this time the arrows were set aflame. The portcullis was still open, thankfully, though beset by a formidable wall of soldiers.

They would fall and be trampled just as any other.

Galloping forward in the final stretch Askr's chest connected with the unfortunate men in the path of destruction, hooves pounding on their bones as if wading through water. What a good horse. Thankfully, he was never wounded by the effort. Taken aback by the feat most archers did not fly their arrows a second time, and those that did scarcely hit their target. Nobody was injured that time. The other horses followed close behind and soon there was a pretty pile of corpses lying near the mouth of the portcullis like a disgusting blanket.

Exiting the city and breaching the cold night of Cent made Eivor release a breath she did not know she was holding, the shock of adrenaline still hitting her hard. She definitely was not going to do that again any time soon. Glancing behind her to check they were not followed, she opted to take the quickest route to the longship; regardless if someone came after them they would still board the ship as quickly as they could. 

 She decided to try and talk to the man on her horse, just as she'd done to you. "What is your name?"

The man stirred slowly, as if he did not recognize that he was being talked to. He could not focus on much past the way his body felt as if it were being carried forward by a valkyrie, mounted on her horse and riding towards Valhalla. "G-Gunnar," he croaked, and Eivor nearly choked on the cool night air. Ah.

Looking behind her at the state of the man, she realized he was in a far worse state than you were when she'd rescued you. His eyes were clouded, unfocused, dried blood seeped down from a wound at the center of his forehead; he was weak, with the way he barely clung onto the Wolf-Kissed's smaller frame despite being heads taller than her. There were the dried blood stains at his middle, too, and she could not guess where those wounds came from.

She prayed to all the Gods she could think of, even those that she did not revere, that he would stay alive long enough to make it to Ravensthorpe.

"Alright, Gunnar. I am Eivor. We're taking you and your clan to a safer place." The ride to the ship felt much longer than riding from it, despite being the same route.

Gunnar would seemingly gain awareness some moments, holding tighter to Eivor's waist and groaning in pain, and then completely lose it at others, falling limp at her back and scaring her each time thinking that the man had passed.

Only one time did he address her. "Y/n sent you…?"

"Yes, she did," Eivor said, and the beach and her longship were in her sight. Nobody was followed. Five of her raiders and their paired Danes had already boarded the ship, keeping it still to the harbor even in the night's high tide.

Gunnar let out a breathy wheezing sound. "Ah, she's alive…" he said, and Eivor could hear the smile in his voice despite everything. "Alive…"

Slowing Askr down to a trot they approached the longship, the tide rising to the point where the horses were lifting their legs in the water. There were still more of her clan stationed at the forward camp; they would return the horses to Ravensthorpe after they departed. Dismounting the horse, she grabbed Gunnar by the waist, laying the large man over her shoulders and carrying him to the ship. He could not find the strength to sit up on the seats. Eivor slowly lowered him against the side of the ship, propping him up. 

Taking a headcount, every single one of her drengr survived; out of the dozen Danes they rescued, five would not live. 

Jumping to the lypting again she commanded the ship be turned round and the sail raised. The sea's wind roared, boosting the speed of their getaway, though it would not hold over the river Thames as they passed Roucistere. The night's calm northern breeze did little to bend the cloth of the sails, so it was lowered. 

 At some point, Gunnar roused again. Nali had curled at his bloodied side and was purring furiously, and the man gently petted the cat, in another spell of awareness. "Hello, little friend of Freyja," he spoke, spooking Eivor.

"You are awake, Gunnar. Are you feeling better after a bit of rest?" Eivor asked, grasping at anything to keep the hope of this man reaching Ravensthorpe alive.

"No," came his simple answer, looking up towards Eivor. Blood began oozing from the corners of his mouth and his nose. Immediately Eivor rushed to his side, and all her warriors turned their heads, and upon seeing why the Wolf-Kissed acted so suddenly, they understood. 

Gunnar could only look to Eivor still with an unreadable expression. Taking a cloth from her pouch she began wiping away at the blood, though it continued to run and run, and then Gunnar smiled at the Wolf-Kissed's efforts. In the calmness of the moonlight and Gunnar's awareness she realized how bright his eyes were and how they crinkled at the corners when they were not clouded with pain. Grabbing her hand, he willed her to stop.

"It is no use. I am a dying man," he said, and then let out a great, wheezing cough to drive the point home. Blood still ran from his mouth, down the scraggly hairs of his beard, onto the front of his tunic. Eivor stared, wide-eyed, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she stared at the fading man. 

"...What would be your last wishes, drengr?" she asked, and Gunnar picked Nali up from his side and set her down farther away, and though Nali only weighed not even a stone it was a great effort for the man, who then fell limp after. 

Gunnar seemed to pause, taking in wheezing breaths, thinking of the many answers he could give. Avenge my clan. Slay Frederik. Send word to my wife and daughter in Denmark of my death. Above all he chose one.

"Keep y/n safe," he rasped, suddenly reaching for Eivor's hand and holding it firm. "Keep her safe. Keep this clan safe. There is nothing else left of us.

"I have known her since we were children. Like a brother. I have cared for her as I have cared for my own blood. She is the voice of reason that kept us all bound together in times of strife. I could not protect her when I swore I would. I have known I would die this way for months, yet I did all I could to fight against it. For her. Please, keep her safe. In this world, and the next," he said, and his cryptic words both puzzled and troubled Eivor.

Eivor nodded, and squeezed the man's hand. "I heed your dying words. I will protect her to the ends of the earth."

Slowly, like the moon's face dwindling away as the sun rose each morning, he faded, the light in his eyes dying with him, and he went with a calm exhale into the night air. Eivor set his hand upon his lap and closed his eyelids. He would be given a proper burial, though where, she did not know. It was for you to decide.

The rest of the journey was in silence.

...

You had spent the better part of the day anxious, uneasy, unable to rest like Valka had wanted you to. To keep your mind distracted she asked you of your homeland, to which you gave mostly simple answers, and eventually you grew so anxious you had to pace. Scarcely moving around for days except to relieve yourself made your body shriek in pain with the effort of moving that you would have collapsed if Valka had not caught you. She scolded you like a mother would a child, and then you'd begged her like a child (much to her amusement) for her to help you relearn to walk.

After an hour and some more food and drink you were able to hold your own weight again, and after two more you could walk, albeit slowly, without the strain of the sliced muscles in your back bothering you too much. Valka took you to the pond behind her hut, and you revelled in the sound of the waterfall, and though the movement pained you enough to cry you could not stop yourself from cupping the fresh water in your hands and splashing it in your face. Valka laughed and said she could draw you a bath later. You stayed there for a while, until the sun began to hang lower in the sky, and then you noticed peculiar wisps of light that you've never seen before - catching one you found it was some type of delightful insect that held light within its body, and you let it be free again.

By now your stomach growled with hunger and you slowly raised yourself off the ground and went back into the hut where Valka had already gotten the two of you fresh bowls of soup and bread. Ever grateful you ate quickly, feeling a little calmer after the day. After you ate Valka drew a bath for you, and though the water was lukewarm to ease the pain of your injuries you were grateful to be able to clean the layers of sweat off your body. Valka helped you with the areas that you could not reach, even helping to wash and rinse your hair, and not once did you feel uncomfortable with your nakedness in front of the other woman. It felt natural, in a way, and you surmised she wouldn't really care, anyway. After redressing your wounds, you were surprised by her giving you a freshly-washed, simple chemise, made of soft linen and about ankle length, saying that "It would be easier on your body to sleep warmer, yet not be inhibited by heavier clothing," referring to the men's trousers and tunic you had been dressed in as a prisoner.

Then Valka made you more of the sleepy tea, and you fell asleep before the sun had even set. Thankfully you did not have a nightmare this time, and were back to the normal nonsensical dreams that you would never be able to recall come waking up.

Your sleep, however, was disturbed by the sound of a horn being blown, your mind instantly connecting the sound to Frederik’s horn, and you were sent into a minor panic before you remembered who was blowing the horn. It was not Frederik coming to face you, nor were you back on his longship heading to the monastery; it was Eivor, bringing the remnants of your clan to you. Adrenaline fueled you and you leapt from the bed, frightening Valka who had not yet fallen asleep and she rushed to your side, bidding you to return to bed, but you could not. You had to see Gunnar, you had to see your kinsmen. Limping forward a few paces out into the cold air of the night Valka ran back to her hut and returned with her heavy fur cloak, gently setting it about your shoulders so that you did not freeze.

You walked past the stables, down the western side of the longhouse, past numerous buildings you did not know the purpose of and saw several people getting off the longship. And even in the dark of the night you could see bodies being lifted onto stretchers, and your heart dropped. Some deep, deep, ugly part of you hoped that they were Eivor's warriors and not yours, to no avail. There were five of them, and you rushed forward, stumbling, and in the light of the torches you tried to make out faces.

A hand was felt on your shoulder, preventing you from toppling over, and you turned to face Eivor, who looked at you with a somber, defeated face. You did not like that look, nor the way you were turned away from looking at the final body of your kin. You could only stare silently into the Wolf's eyes.

"Y/n, I…" Eivor started, unsure of the right words to say. She sighed, and then took hold of both of your shoulders and squeezed. "I am sorry," was all she said, pulling you closer to her chest in comfort. You did not like her tone and what it meant. You could not make yourself move to match the warmth of her hug. The entire clan had gathered, but they were all silent.

Slowly, she let you go, and you turned around to look at the bodies. You could recognize the pallid faces of poor Lissi, and Jørgen, and Erna, Nils…

 And then there was Gunnar, stiff and pale, blood staining the cloth of his tunic all around, and you froze, your mind not processing what you were looking at. And then you drew in a great breath and wailed, a painful, broken-hearted sound pulled from your throat like a bow running harshly across the strings of an instrument. You dropped to your knees, crawling closer to the man's body and pressing the palms of your hands to his cold cheeks, sobbing and gasping for breath. like a madwoman over his body, willing your hot tears that fell onto his face to bring him back to life. Why was he to die like this? Away from his family? His home? He did not even die in battle. He did not deserve this death. You hunched over his body, still sobbing, pressing his cold forehead to yours and then closed your eyes, and prayed that he would find his way out of Hel's domain to where he belonged, seated with the other einherjar in Valhalla. Maybe guided by a valkyrie, maybe out of his own will. 

When you pulled away you were now weeping silently, and you could not bring yourself to look at the bodies of the rest, nor look at the faces of those that were alive, passing by you as they were carried to the barracks. You instead looked out into the forest on the far side of the river, and you could not bring yourself to move even as Eivor's men began to haul the stretchers away. 

The Wolf-Kissed approached you, slowly, and set her palm on your shoulder again. "He passed peacefully, facing the moon and stars. His wounds were too dire for him to go on," she said, and you rose from kneeling on the ground, her hand on your shoulder a wonderful feeling keeping you grounded in reality. You could not speak, only staring ahead still. Eivor stayed by your side, silent for a moment.

"He… he called for me to protect you, to keep you safe as his dying words," she said quietly, and this made you turn and look at her through your tear-laden lashes. Eivor's heart squeezed. "I promised to him that I would. And my word is my bond. I will keep you safe, until… until you decide what you want to do," she said, the last bit sounding strained, as if that was not what she truly wanted to say. This was all very sudden to your already exhausted mind.

You stared at her for a moment longer, and Eivor felt you were looking through her, not at her. Blinking some tears away you slowly turned from her, looking at the water's edge and how it reflected the moonlight, trying to clear your head. "I… he… " you began, trying to find your words and will the lump in your throat away. "H-he… he was not my blood. But we grew up together… a big brother to me," you mumbled, not truly knowing why you were telling Eivor this. "I… I cared greatly for him. I still do. I've thought before what I would do if he passed, and even that hurt, but… this is…" Snivelling, you pressed a palm to your mouth so that Eivor would not have to see the ugly way your face contorted and lip quivered as you tried to hold in another anguished cry. The woman did not think any less of you. She stood unmoving behind you. "This is… this is Frederik's fault. All of it. If he had done anything…" you croaked, the lump in your throat rising again to the point where you could not speak further nor breathe, choking on air and holding it for far too long, and Eivor set her large palm on your shoulder again. When you did not respond, she slowly pulled you into another hug, being ever mindful of the injuries at your back, and you immediately clung to her, shoving your face into her chest even though it was still armored, your head under her chin, and sobbing anew. You couldn't help it at this point. You felt like a maelstrom of emotion, waves of sorrow washing over you as you kept thinking of Gunnar's soft smile that he gave you on the longship and how it contrasted with the stillness of his pale, dead face. And then you realized how cold you were, even in Valka's coat, when the warmth of the larger woman began to seep into your body; a small comfort. Eivor shushed you gently and dared to smooth your hair out just as Valka had, and you felt yourself growing calmer in the arms of the warrior.

After some time you felt more composed, calmed, and you slowly removed yourself from Eivor as the intimacy of her consolation and promise to Gunnar hit you and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, stepping back and looking to the patterns in the wood of the docks. 

"I know Gunnar had a wife and child, back in Denmark. They should know of his passing," you said, running your fingers over the edges of Valka's cloak. Eivor nodded. "I will send a letter, then." 

Swallowing, you thought of her words earlier. Protect me until I decide what I want to do, she says… you did not see any other path. 

"You… you said that you would protect me, until I have decided to go elsewhere," you started, looking up to match Eivor's blue eyes, though difficult it may be. The woman blinked slowly and nodded. 

"I… I do not think I could go elsewhere. I do not want to return to my family, knowing that Frederik could potentially return there, too. And whatever lies he spun they would believe his words over mine. I do not have a home there, not anymore," you explained, and then broke eye contact with the drengr, feeling a burst of anger at the entire situation for a moment before you took a deep breath, sighing.

"And you… you saved my life. You and Valka, you've helped me to recover. And that is something that I feel I can never repay."

You met Eivor's blue eyes again, and even in the dim light of the moon could see how soft they've grown. "I would stay with the Raven clan, if you would let me," you said, feeling small again. Eivor blinked again, and then her expression somehow grew softer, and nodded. "Of course, y/n. You will always find a home here in Ravensthorpe, and wherever else we may go," she said, sending you a muted smile. You will always find a home with me.

You let out a breath, sighing in relief and in exhaustion, and realized how cold it had gotten when you could see it hanging in the mist, and then you felt it seep into your bones. "Th-thank you, Eivor," you shivered, and the Norsewoman took note of your state almost immediately, and on instinct pulled you to her side and began walking you back to Valka. "Of course, lagr kærr."

Passing the barracks you were relieved to see some of your kin already tended to and resting; you would speak with them tomorrow of your decision. You did not have a leader, not anymore, and it was up to them whether they wanted to leave or stay once recovered. You, however, would find a home in the Raven clan yet. 

 Valka was, as expected, not in the hut, most likely at the barracks treating the last of your friends. After such a long day both you and Eivor were exhausted, and the Wolf bid you farewell at the door, turning to go to her own place of rest. Shrugging off Valka's coat you placed it in it's usual spot and then crawled into your cot, still straining with the movement. Your body had its own celebration when you finally relaxed, and though you would certainly feel the soreness tomorrow you were glad that you still had some mobility after the wounds near your spine had become infected. You would heal in time. Closing your eyes, you fell asleep blissfully quickly.

In the shadows of the longhouse's exterior, Randvi had watched how your smaller form tucked into Eivor's as the two of you ascended to the seeress's hut, and felt an ugly twist of envy in her gut. She turned away from the scene to storm to the alliance map. She still had reports to write.