#i am imploring you guys to find whatever gives you strength and use it

[queervegancryptid]

Partner says Desantis is basically nerfing the petition industry here in Florida. Like absolutely gutting it. So either he's going to be traveling a lot for work, or we're fucked for the foreseeable future.

Sigh. Just once, I'd like to get through a day without the powers that be fucking up my life. But they're going to keep creating problems for me, for my family, for all of us.

It's important to understand that this will be largely a war of attrition. I don't doubt that the reds will come out with some show of violent force sometime in the next few months, if not sooner. But fascism doesn't just work by way of military or militia units marching through the streets. That's part of it, the strongman military dictator archetype, and that's part of what gets the Orange Menace going. It's also entirely on brand for what the red republican party has become, or more accurately, what it has been evolving into through the last several decades.

But having acknowledged that, it isn't all about throwing their weight around in public and making people feel literal existential fear. It's also about sucking the will to resist out of people, little by little, in a thousand little ways that add up to trap you in despair and keep you from gaining the strength to fight back.

This is the kind of thing we have to be ready for, on top of workplace raids and attempting to pass constitutional amendments in the form of an executive order and, yes, eventually state violence. I'm not saying this to make anyone panic. I'm saying this because you need to be informed. You need to understand the kind of war we're going to be fighting, and it wouldn't hurt to try to prepare yourself a little for the reality that may one day arrive on your doorstep.

Do not panic, though. Organize. Find somewhere to volunteer, if you can, or make content about an issue you care about. Do whatever you can do, but don't make yourself sick about it. I've found it really helpful lately to read queer history and trans history in particular. It's a way I can remind myself that we've always been here, and despite innumerable attempts to fuck with us, we don't go away.

People before us have had the strength to fight and sometimes win, and that means we can fight and maybe win, too. Nothing is guaranteed, but we have to try. The best thing I can tell you is to think of how you can help, and don't feel like it's too small to matter. If you make one person feel a little more brave or a little less lonely, isn't that worthwhile?

And if I don't talk about it and sit here and get upset that more people aren't fucking aware, then I'm not doing my part to solve the problem. I'm just bitching about it.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x19: Inherit the Earth

We’re down to the end, and guys, I’m not ready. :(

Then:

THEY’RE IN LOVE

Now:

The world is empty.

Sam and Jack wander the empty streets. Dean pulls up in the Impala (still wearing his jacket with Cas’s bloody handprint. BRB CRYING.) Everyone’s gone. Dean tells the others that it’s Chuck that did this. Jack asks the IMPORTANT question: “Where’s Cas?” Dean looks down and hesitates, but eventually says, “He saved me.” He tells them the cliff’s notes version of what happened while shoving down A MILLION feelings of regret and loss and I want to hug him. “Cas is gone,” he finishes, and hahahahahahahahah NOPE. Sam, in disbelief, calls his side-ship Jody. No answer. 

They head to an empty sports bar (AND WHAT I WOULD DO TO GO TO A BAR WITH FRIES AND TVs AND BEER RIGHT NOW). Jack stays outside and prays to Cas. He gets nothing and starts walking. All the flowers start to wilt as he passes them. WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Sam blames himself and is done. They decide to meet with Chuck.

They tell him that they’ll play his little game. They’ll kill each other. Dean demands that they put everything back to normal first, though. “The people, the birds, Cas.” All of it. (WEEPING.)

Dean, DEAN, Cas doesn’t want to be in a world where you don’t exist. 

Yeah, Chuck doesn’t care. He’s really into the brothers' suffering alone story. “That’s deep, that’s sophisticated, that’s a page turner.” Oh, Chuck, you dumb bastard. 

Cut to the bunker where they’re all suffering on their own. Jack wallows in his room. Sam wanders the halls, and Dean lays passed out on a bottle of liquor in the library. Sam finds Dean in the library, and Jack soon joins them to tell them that he’s sensing another presence in the world. 

They head to a gas station. Dean heads for the bathroom, and hears a whimpering. IT’S A DOG. And Dean’s so happy to have found him. He names the dog Miracle. 

Dean brings the dog out to show Sam. He tells him that Miracle is coming home with them. I AM DYING. Sam is shocked. Dean tells him not to worry because he’ll only let him ride shotgun if Sam is cool with it. Lol. 

Of course, all good things must end. And Miracle dusts like everything else in existence. Dean looks around and sees Chuck giving him a smarmy salute. F U C K  O F F,  C H U C K. Dean doesn’t even like dogs, so there. (The patented Robert Singer ZOOM tells me that Dean does indeed care about dogs.) 

(Sidenote: The dog is Cas, right? Dean’s beyond happy to see it. And is ready to let it sit shotgun, but only if Sam’s okay with it. And he’s REALLY upset that they can’t “save a dog”. Just thinking thoughts.) 

They head to a church. 

Once they’re in the church of very dangerously burning candles, they’re greeted by Michael. 

Michael tells them that he’s been chilling here to avoid Chuck’s notice. Adam is gone. (RIP Winchester brother that never got a chance.) Michael monologs a bit about humans and stuff. Dean recognizes a little soldier when he sees one. Michael wants to help though. 

Back at the bunker, Sam shows him Death’s book on God. Michael tries opening the book with no luck. (Sidenote: The DRAMA of the lights being lower is killing me.) 

*Dean is In Love Alert*

The brothers take a moment alone in the dark kitchen. 

Dean gets a call. 

Dean takes the call and because he’s a precious bean that actually believes what he’s hearing. Cas is at the bunker. He’s outside. He’s hurt. 

Dean takes off like a rocket AND I’M DYING. BBY BOY. NO. 

It’s not Cas. It’s Lucifer. 

UGH. 

(DOUBLE UGH.)

(INFINITY UGH.)

Yeah, Lucifer totally sees what’s between Dean and Cas and gains access to the bunker because of that. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool. 

He tells the brothers that the Empty kicked him out to finish Chuck. He brought a reaper to prove to the brothers that he’s good people (NOT.) 

Betty is bound and gagged. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) Lucifer then kills her. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) 

Betty is the new Death! 

(Sorrynotsorry for the lack of pictures. I think we all know why.) 

She asks for the book. If they give it to her, she can read it. 

They set her up in the dungeon reading room, and she doesn’t need helpers. 

Meanwhile, Lucifer is playing cards and there’s ZERO interaction with Jack and him. AND I AM LIVING. Like, it’s 100% clear that Jack isn’t his son and he does not see him as a father. Jack’s father is dead. AND I AM LIVING. (But also sad because Cas is dead.) 

Lucifer does interact with Michael though. Michael does not trust his brother.

Betty pops up with the book and the end of God. Lucifer ashes her with a snap of his fingers. 

(HOW?!>!>?)

Wherps, he grabs the book from her and reveals his hand. He’s working with Chuck.   

Lucifer and MIchael battle it out. Jack watches. Lucifer tries to convince Jack to join the losing team.

Michael stabs Lucifer with an archangel blade. Mercifully, there are no haughty speeches or further peacocking between these two. Lucifer sparks out, gone at last. GOOD RIDDANCE.

Later, Dean has a heart to heart with Michael in the kitchen. Michael’s reeling that Chuck brought Lucifer back from the dead instead of seeking him out. But he’s definitely NOT BITTER, NOPE. 

Dean reveals that Chuck’s book is open and full of mysterious Enochian symbols. Sam’s going to translate those, and figure out how Chuck dies, so they can start knocking down some dominoes!

In the library later, Sam reveals that he’s uncovered a spell to stop Chuck. (Jack was researching nephilim on the computer! Jack bby) When complete, the spell will unleash an “unstoppable force” against Chuck. They head out to a special location, light the spell, and it sends three bright beams of power into the sky.

But the spell explodes. They look up to find Chuck standing there. Chuck...chucks the Winchesters and Jack away. He thanks Michael for tipping him off. “It’s always been my destiny to serve you,” Michael tells him. But that’s not enough for Chuck to forgive him for siding with the Winchesters even once. Chuck fractures Michael into light. The last archangel bites the dust.

He turns his attention to the Winchesters. It’s time to finish them. He’s canceling the show. At the last minute, he decides it’ll be more fun to beat them to death instead of snapping them out of existence. It’s……..YIKES PRETTY BRUTAL TO WATCH. “Just stay down,” he counsels them - practically begs them. But they won’t stop. Broken and bleeding, they hold each other up against him.

Sam laughs at Chuck’s confusion. “You lose,” he tells him. Behind Chuck, the camera pans to Jack. 

Chuck tries to snap Jack dead but his snapper isn’t working.

Jack lays his hands on Chuck and golden power streams from Chuck into Jack. Jack snaps his fingers once, and the Winchesters are healed. As they say in the industry...suck it, Chuck. 

Sam drops Death’s book in front of Chuck, but the pages are blank. Only Death can even SEE anything in the book (making the whole “can’t open book covers” thing into nothing but a drama llama move). The Winchesters came up with a plan B and spout this in a quick exposition dump.

Michael was jealous of Lucifer being “chosen” by Chuck

They made up the story of a spell, so Michael would tell Chuck

Jack’s “bomb” quest turned him into a power vacuum - thus the dying plants

When Michael and Lucifer fought in the bunker, the power exchange charged Jack back to full nephilim strength

Chuck killing Michael and beating on the Winchesters allowed Jack to absorb god-power

“This is why you’re my favorites,” Chuck gasps. He doesn’t know what happens next, but he’s ready to die “at the hands of Sam Winchester. Of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer.”

And. Babies. Sweeties. I know that there are lots of people who have problems with this episode but THIS! THIS. This next line makes it all worth it. Because Dean tells him, “See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.” He took how Castiel sees him and he planted that damn seed in his own heart and watered it even in the depths of despair and now it’s so mighty a force that he just walks away from their lifelong tormentor. GUYS. I LOVE IT. I’m so emotional right now.

Jack confirms that Chuck won’t get his powers back. “It’s not his power anymore.” And AGAIN I am emotional thinking about fanfiction and fanart and giving this show to us when it’s all done. Ahem. Anyway. Chuck’s gonna grow old and die and be forgotten like every single human. (Ooookay that got a little dark, but I’ll allow it. This is a “to the pain” speech, after all.)

Chuck begs for them not to leave him, reduced to sniveling panic in the Impala’s dust cloud.

The Winchesters head back to a small, empty town. Jack closes his eyes in the sunshine as “Get Together” by the Youngbloods croons across the scenes. People return to the world and it’s gentle and beautiful - everyone returning to their day-to-day. “Come on people now, smile on your brother!” the song implores. 

Love is but a song to sing Fear's the way we die You can make the mountains ring Or make the angels cry Though the bird is on the wing And you may not know why

Come on people now Smile on your brother Everybody get together Try to love one another Right now

And look. I know this is just a song, and this is just a show. But this is my hope for this show and these characters - steeped in darkness for so long. And this is my hope for our actual real world too. It’s hard for me to separate the two so YES I’M CRYING AS I TYPE THIS. May this song lead us into the next episode and destroy me in a fountain of hopeful light.

Erm. anyway. Miracle the dog runs into the scene! It IS a damn miracle! Dean and Sam are so proud of Jack! Jack confirms that Amara is with him and they’re in harmony. I’m so happy that Amara got a happy peaceful forever after with her nougat nephilim grand-nephew. Dean assumes that Jack’s coming back to the bunker with them. He’s top dog, “he can do whatever he wants now.” (And readers, I like that Dean says whatever “he wants” and not whatever the Winchesters want. I think it shows personal growth!)

Jack declines. He’s already home - he’s everywhere and everything. “I’ll be in every drop of falling rain. In every speck of dust that the wind blows. And in the sand, the rocks, and the sea.” Jack doesn’t want to lead people, or be prayed or sacrificed to. He wants to let them discover the truth in their own hearts, in their own time. “Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you and my mother and Castiel that when people have to be their best - they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” I have to say, I was fervently against Jack-as-God until it happened. But just like everything to do with Jack, once it happens I just go...okay, cool. I’m on board!

In the bunker, Dean and Sam drink beer and comment on the quiet. “To everyone that we lost along the way,” Dean toasts. Sam realizes that they can write their own story now. “Just us,” he says (and it sounds like a bleak echo in the empty bunker). Behind them, the table has SW, DW, MW, Jack, and Castiel engraved and...MY HEART.

The Winchesters leave to go find out what freedom feels like and we get a montage of past scenes from the show, and characters we loved or loved to hate. Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty” plays us off in sweet, mournful nostalgia.

The Winchesters drive into a sepia-tinged world. This episode is like my Thanksgiving plate mid-meal - all mashed together for faster plot consumption. But on a rewatch, there’s a lot to like too! It’s a goodbye to one story...

And we leave nostalgia behind. It’s time for them to figure out their own story and I AM SO EXCITED to see what happens next! (Lays some nougat candy bars on my altar for Andrew Dabb for one last vigil.)

WHERE’S THE QUOTES?

Where’s Cas?

Who’ve thought finding a dog would feel like a miracle? C’mon, Miracle!

What’s an ending?

Eternal suffering sounds good on paper, but as a viewing experience it’s just kinda...meh

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[monomonomagines]

DR2 Boys as Monsters with a Human S/o Part 2

Hello everyone, I’m sorry for my inactivity as of late. My bed broke recently so I’ve had to try to get a new one during Quarantine. However, I finally am able to get one and I come back bearing some good news! Mod Kokichi and I have been fleshing out our monster Au to the point that we have some extra content for the lore of the world and details with the characters and whatever we couldn’t fit into these imagines. Coincidentally, we do plan to also open an AO3 account in order to publish fully fleshed out content for the monsters and lore of the world we’ve made for them once we’re all set up. If anyone is interested in any art or lore that we have ready though, feel free to ask us and we’ll gladly share it with you. Speaking of, we have a place already to post art on our discord so you’re free to join us with this link if you’d like. https://discord.gg/M6TGwd

One more thing I’d like to add though is a warning for Nagito’s part in this. We couldn’t include much romance because of some lore we included with how his disease would work in this universe and with the limited space I couldn’t convey much development with him yet (where he isn’t quite as unhealthy or obsessive) so consider this just your first interaction with him. I promise though on AO3 or in further works he won’t be nearly as twisted as he might com across here. Besides that though, I hope that you all enjoy these. I had a lot of fun with them and will be getting back to other requests and matchups as soon as possible.

Part 2 (Part 1 here) (Part 3 here)

Gundham (Vampire)

By the time you got of work, it was late enough to see the last vestiges of the setting sun disappearing over the horizon, leaving behind nothing more than the chill of twilight.

However, there was nothing to do but to walk home as typical of you when it's still brighter.

As you passed by the familiar buildings, the park, and even a few side streets you began to only think of getting home and into your nice warm bed.

Perhaps it was those thoughts that caused you not to notice the man behind you but by the time he put a hand over your mouth and pulled you into an alley with him, you knew you had made a terrible mistake.

There were no words said as he pushed you up against a wall and buried his face into your neck, penetrating you with his fangs.

So that was it, he was a vampire. It'd be over soon you thought trying to reassure yourself as his inhuman strength overpowered you.

You tried with all your might to hold onto consciousness but alas it was too much. Maybe he was going to drink you dry after all, maybe this was the end for you?

When you awoke with a start those thoughts were still lingering in your mind. You felt so weak and this place, this definitely wasn't your room.

"Ah, you've awoken at last!" Announced that same vampire as he appeared by the side of the plush bed you were laid upon.

At least you assumed as you hadn't gotten to hear his voice. You didn't know what to say to him and at the very same time, plenty of accusations and questions flew from your mouth in his direction causing him to lose that gusto he seemed to have from a moment ago.

It appeared as though he hadn't considered for this to happen and unlike how he had last night he silenced you with his own statement.

"Silence, mortal! You should consider yourself lucky! It is not every day that you are a vampire as well known and feared as the legendary Gundham Tanaka's first victim!"

Proudly laughing he rambles on and on about his supposed grandeur before he finally settles down.

"Now what great power you are speaking to I shall inform you of what is to come as you had begged me earlier. You, mortals, tend to misconstrue what it is we full-blood vampires do with our first victim. We do not kill them, no rather we keep them by our side."

Oh brother. You knew for certain you did not want to stay with this guy and yet you still felt so weak. There was no way you could do much else than rely on him so you had to relent.

However, even though you started as an unwanted guess Gundham seemed to know how to take care of you, always making sure to be so careful.

He didn't seem like other vampires and as you began to talk to him you seemed to realize what had happened to you in actuality. Even if he hadn't realized it himself he slipped up by calling you his first victim.

He wasn't some long-lived legendary Vampire, he was a recently turned one that normally didn't drink from a human directly. You noticed with the way that he'd return with blood bags and never a scratch on him that he wasn't as evil as he seemed.

However, even when you questioned him he insisted on his obviously made up "Old Vampire Ritual" that you two were bound together and that he must take care of you as you two are now in a "symbiotic relationship".

A relationship in which he never actually drank from you instead mostly taking care of you because of that one time he could've killed you. Perhaps that's why you had fallen so hard for this creature of the night?

He was gentle and kind in his own right and every day that passed by ended up making you glad to be here. That's when you knew you had to tell him finally.

One night as he was bringing you dinner you had asked for him to stay and as usual, he listened to your desires sitting by you rather obediently as you two conversed.

"It is not like you to ask of my presence during your meals, mortal. Is there something you wished to say?"

What didn't you want to say? As soon as you could open your mouth all of it began to spill out again, like those questions you asked when you first arrived here.

You knew he wasn't a full-blood, you knew he just felt bad that he almost drained you, and you knew he didn't like drinking directly from someone if they were unwilling! You knew it all but most of all you liked him the way he was. You loved him even and before you could finish your ramble of a confession he had already pressed himself against your lips.

"Oh, how is it that a mortal like you can love a beast such as myself?"

Nagito (Zombie)

Though it was quite impulsive, you had felt implored to walk take a walk in the dead of night.

It was a humid summer night and with your clothes sticking to you and the hum of the ceiling fan relentlessly filling your ears you clearly needed to get a small break.

Grabbing a bag with a few small things such as a flashlight, keys, and whatever else you could possibly need during a night stroll you soon departed, forgetting just why it was so risky to leave your home.

As you continued on your stroll to the next block you happened upon the local graveyard which was always stirring with life, at least that's what you had heard.

Perhaps it was the humidity or the lack of sleep making you feel so careless but rather than heading back home you decided to approach the gates of the cemetery when a gloved hand came to press itself over your mouth.

"Don't scream, I just want to talk." A raspy voice whispers lowly into your ear causing panic to shoot through your body.

With your bag still in hand, you easily shake the offender off, swinging your bag at him as your eyes shut in fear. However, instead of any pained sound, all you hear is a sigh and multiple things hitting the ground.

Despite your head screaming at you to disregard that and run though you instead put on a brave face and open your eyes, noticing that he was now missing his arm and head.

"Ah man, this is so embarrassing," he starts only awkwardly scratching the back of his head with his free hand, "you wouldn't be able to uh, hand me my head would you?"

Wait, he's a zombie, isn't he!? He'll just try to bite you!

Even with your protests though he doesn't bat an eye only negotiating with you instead. "I know it sounds like I just want to bite you but I swear I won't. If it makes you feel better you can even grab me by my hair. There's no way I can bite you that way, right?"

Despite the position he was in, he still seemed fully capable of quipping at you so you relented. What harm will come from this guy if you can knock most of his limbs off with one swing?

Dropping your bag to the ground you tentatively grab his head by the hair watching as his expression doesn't change despite the tug on his scalp as you hand it over to his body.

To your surprise, he grabs himself the same way and somehow easily reattaches the head with his one arm intact. This must happen quite a lot for him to be so unfazed even with only one arm.

"Thanks again! You wouldn't mind tossing my hand over here too would you?"

He asks with a relaxed smile on his face. He didn't move towards you at all, seeming to wait for you to answer as you looked over and saw that gloved hand now laying by your bag.

He didn't seem dangerous but before you could find it in yourself to give him back all of his limbs you needed to know why he grabbed you earlier.

"Oh, that? Well, to be honest, I was trying to warn you about the graveyard. Tonights a full moon and it's when a lot of the more violent zombies and other monsters come out. That's why I didn't want you to scream either if you had well, you'd be found and eaten immediately."

But then why wasn't he attacking you or trying to eat you? You wanted to question him more but for the most part, his answer was vague.

"Well, I don't want to eat you. How about instead you toss me my hand and I'll walk you home? That's fair isn't it?"

You couldn't disagree, it did seem fair but you certainly hadn't expected this development in the slightest. It might not have been too uncommon for someone to escort you home but a zombie was surprising.

You braced yourself, grabbing ahold of the purely skeletal hand and glove as you tossed them over to him. Now with another question to ask. Was the glove to cover this?

"That actually has to do with how I got to be a zombie. It's a funny story since I'm pretty lucky but I was born with a disease that causes your brain to deteriorate. I wasn't supposed to live long and no matter what doctor I went to, none of them could do anything."

So why was his hand like this then? Did he already start decaying? Despite just meeting, he seemed intent on sharing his story with you as he gave you an awkward smile and continued.

"No one could cure me so I decided to take a risk. As a human still I sought out a Witch Doctor and ironically the only way to save me so that I could accomplish my goals was to kill me."

Popping his hand on with a satisfied look on his face he smiled at you.

"It's ironic but even with the ritual, I got lucky! She needed something as a sort of sacrifice I guess so she needed my hand or at least the flesh from it. I'll admit it was pretty painful since I was still alive but even then it seemed that it was destined to happen. A rare occurrence happened in which my hand was still intact and strong enough not to snap either! It was a miracle that the witch said must have been because the demons or dark gods had chosen me! Amazing isn't it?"

He puts his glove back on, looking at the hand fondly as you went silent. That was supposed to be amazing? Didn't he still die? What about his family and friends?

Despite your questions, his expression didn't falter as he calmly explained he had none. No friends and no family to come to his funeral. He died alone and seemed unfazed.

"That's enough about me though, we should be getting you home now."

Sure enough, he was right, however, something seemed off. How was it that he knew the way to your house? Even when you questioned him though he seemed so nonchalant.

"I know because you fill me with hope," he says expression growing dark, "I know from the way you walk to the way you talk, to the way you even eat your meals that you are what I need. It was such great luck for you to walk by tonight where I could talk to you where I can finally tell you how I feel."

Pinning you to a nearby wall he smiles as he asks you too frozen by fear to scream, "Did you think that any zombie would be so harmless? My goal is to bring hope to the world and in order to do so, I need you. You awaken the purest hope sleeping inside of me and for that, I can never let you go."

Before you can respond to his delusions he presses his lips to your own and that was the last of what you could remember when you woke up in your bed.

It was just a dream, it had to be you thought, but when you opened that bag and found a note in it you knew immediately that it was all true. You were being stalked by a Zombie of all things.

Kazuichi (Gorgon)

You were going on a jog through the nearby park in the evening when you chanced upon a figure in the distance.

Although you only saw their back, they were dressed in the brightest jumpsuit you'd ever seen. They definitely couldn't be up to anything shady in such an ostentatious outfit, you thought, so you called out to them as you drew closer.

As soon as your words pierced their ears they perked up immediately running over to grab onto you sobbing about how he got "left behind," when suddenly he froze.

"Wa-wait you're not a..." letting go and backing up from you like you had the plague you noticed why he was freaking out. You definitely weren't a monster and he definitely was.

The two of you ended up screaming from the shock as the monster clumsily ran in the opposite direction, tripping over the roots of an overgrown tree and falling with a sickening snap.

You couldn't leave him like this. Even as you approached he seemed scared out of his wits, wincing away as you tried to help lift him up.

"Please don't hurt me! Please don't kill me I...I beg of you! I'll do whatever you say!" He cries out between sobs, not realizing that you are just trying to help him out.

However, he was struggling far too much to help him either so you had no choice but to sit yourself down and reassure him.

"But how can I even know you're telling the truth!? What if you're just going to kill me later?" Despite his sobbing finally melting into mere shaky breathes he looks at you with nothing more than distrust as he tosses accusations around.

He might not believe you but at least he isn't thrashing about like a caged animal. This time promising, not to hurt him, you help him up allowing him to lean on you as he winces in pain.

"Shit, I think...I think I really hurt my ankle. It hurts just to stand!"

Though he had acted so high and mighty a moment ago, he instantly melts into your touch, letting you do most of the work as you walk to your house.

There was no way to transport him anywhere else without some basic medical attention at least. An idea that he wouldn't have taken kindly to if not from being so exhausted from your interactions in the forest.

Struggling to get your key out of your pocket with him leaning on you, you manage to open the door and lead him to your couch so that he could rest.

Turning so that you close the door behind you two, you hear him speak up once again.

"Hey uh...about before and all, I don't normally act so, so lame. I'm normally a lot cooler than that and-" You held back a sigh, cutting off his lame excuses by telling him that you understand.

A heavy silence fell over the two of you, thicker than the uneasy tension in the air as you began to tend to his ankle.

Occasionally shooting an uneasy glance in your direction, he once again opens his mouth trying to say something only to close it again.

You really hadn't expected to encounter such a cowardly and awkward monster and yet here you were with one sat on your couch as you ended to his ankle with an air of uncertainty around the two of you.

This time, you spoke up, trying to get anything to rid you of the heavy feeling in the air as you spoke. Besides, you did have your own questions that you wanted to be answered.

For example, what exactly is he? You knew he wasn't human but with his beanie on all you could tell was that he had greenish skin and snakelike eyes.

"Oh, that? I'm...a Gorgon," he responds, rather awkwardly as he reluctantly pulls off his beanie to reveal bright pink snakes that contrast his green skin.

Cringing as you let out a gasp he prepares for you to laugh but instead is met with the exact opposite. Did you call him cool looking? He, he was cool to you?

Feeling pride swell within him he smiles at you, the awkward air finally for a moment. A moment that certainly did not last long as one of his own snakes bit him.

"Shit! The hat where's my hat!?" He exclaims, patting the arm of the couch for it when you notice how it fell out of his reach as more snakes readied to sink their teeth into his face.

Running over to grab the beanie you hand it to him as he quickly contains his snakes that let out an audible hiss of disapproval. "Argh, they always do this but uh thanks. I must seem pretty lame right now though huh?"  

Seeming down already from the altercation with his snakes you assure him that he's not lame although you do wonder why they dislike him so much.

"Well, they've never got along with me since animals don't really like me at all but they started getting really violent after I learned magic to dye them pink."

He learned magic to make them pink? That was incredible, you mentioned, praising him and causing a small blush to coat his cheeks.

"Yeah, I learned from a friend of mine. She's a lich actually so it isn't really an impressive spell for her but I guess it is kinda cool that I could learn it, huh?"

Agreeing with him that it is indeed pretty cool that he could learn magic, you soon finished with his ankle.

However, even as you finished you both continued to talk throughout the night. Talking about his weird Turned Vampire Rival, and his Alien soul bro, and other fun topics.

You didn't realize it but it must have been so much fun that you eventually fell asleep beside him because you woke up still situated on the couch. However, when you looked over Kazuichi was gone.

It was if it all was a dream or so you thought until that same awkward Gorgon appeared on your doorstep in the middle of the night days later.

Seeming nervous as usual he gave you a small smile. "Hey, S/o, yah mind if I come in?"

Despite your sleepy daze, you nodded as you led him to the same couch that you had fallen asleep on after talking to him for the whole night and took your own place next to him.

Per usual he was fidgety and nervous but you did notice one thing different about him. Unlike the last time, you saw him he had a one snake peeking out from his hat that was happily swaying as you sat next to him.

Following your gaze on the little guy, he began to blush again as he stammered an apology. "Sorry, I guess Lugnut is just really happy to see you again. I don't always tuck him in because he's the only one that can stand me, at least most days. When we met last time he hissed at me in the morning so I kinda just tucked him with the rest."

Scratching his head he waits for a response as you just stare at him in disbelief. Did he just call his snake Lugnut? Did he really name them all like that?

"D-don't look at me like that! I have to call them something to tell the difference between them!" He whines as you let out a laugh now that your initial shock wore off.

"It's not funny! I told ya I needed to be able to tell the difference!" He protests again, only forgiving you once you apologize for all the laughter.

"Great, now that you're done laughing and all I did actually have something I wanted to say." He states as his hat begins to visibly move.

"I...I wanted to thank you for last time. I know I acted like I didn't trust you the whole time and that I disappeared even though I was hurt but I really like you."

He stops to take a deep breath as Lugnut begins to move around excitedly. "I know this is really fast but it's just that no one has ever called me cool the way you do, or listen to me really, or let me go on about what I like and, and I want to keep being able to!" he announces, never faltering as he looked you in the eyes.

"Even if you say no, I want to keep coming over and talking to you like we did the other night so will you let me come over again?"

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

never let you go (2)

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Characters: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of demons and gore. Brief hints of SMUT. Swearing. Bucky and Steve are not exactly nice. A very brief appearance by my favorite Hunter (SPN crossover).

Prompt: “Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.”

A/N: This is my submission for the fantastic @sherrybaby14 for Sherry’s Fall Into You challenge, thanks babe for hosting. This is a dark story fam, different than my usual writing. Bucky and Steve really do make some bad decisions, so please heed the warnings. This is a short series, only 3 parts.

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

Previously...

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” Steve murmurs, drifting toward the balm of sleep. Bucky says nothing, simply snuggles closer, his steady breaths puffing warm on your skin.

“I remember what happened.” Softly the confession falls. “Please don’t lie to me. Tell me how you did it. How you brought me back.”

Both men stiffen. Bucky stops breathing. Steve stops stroking his hair. Dread fills you, cold as ice. You know then, whatever price they’ve paid? It will tear the world apart.

Breath tickling the back of your neck, Steve murmurs so quietly, you strain to hear.

“We made a deal.”

*****

“The greatness of humanity is not in being human, but in being humane.” Mahatma Gandhi

*****

Along the glass smooth lake, the tufts of grass are wrapped in furry white frost. Fog rises in slow curls from the mirror of dark blue, warm water battling cold air, while white ice crackles along the edges in paper thin sheets. Each morning you walk out to the lake, the ice creeps further, a bitter omen of what will come.

It all feels surreal. Impossible and improbable. An endless winter waiting in the wings. 

From the outside, life is the same. The world turns, the sun rises in the east. Bucky still giggles madly at cat videos on YouTube and Steve still argues that cough syrup tastes delicious. For the three of you, nothing has changed.

But for the world, it has.

Part of you wants to hate them. It was the most selfish, self-sacrificing act either has ever committed in their long lives, but no matter how monumentally fucked up the situation, it changes nothing. Regardless of the road ahead, there are no limits to the love you feel for them both, and one truth burns with a steadfast certainty - you will always follow in their footsteps.

Perhaps that fact will be your downfall.

Staring bleakly across the clear lake, you think back to that night, when they explained everything. With the proverbial cards on the table, the most complicated question of your entire life now looms.

What will you do to save them?

*****

Eyes downcast, they sit beside each other on the edge of the bed, overgrown children awaiting punishment. Fingers linked atop your head, you pace a short path in front of them, back and forth, breathing fast, words locked in your throat. When they finally burst free, both men flinch.

“Explain what you mean. I don’t understand, Steve. What does a deal with a demon mean? What is that?”

Refusing to look up, Steve remains silent, nervously pinching the callouses on his palm. Bucky stares mutely at his toes, wiggling them into the ropey blue rug beneath the bed. He cracks his knuckles and you can tell he’s mustering his courage. Wetting his lips, he finally meets your gaze.

“It means exactly what Steve said. I know it sounds insane, but it was a real demon. Like the kind you find in - in fairy tales or something. We met a couple guys and they told us how to find her. Said you can make a deal, whatever you want, the demon’ll give it to you...” Bucky trails off, losing steam; another deep breath and he plows on. “...she gives it to you in exchange for 10 years. Those are the contract terms, the regular deal. At the end of the 10 years, that’s it. She comes back to collect, and you’re sent - down. To hell.”

Disbelief clenches like an iron fist, heavy and suffocating. It makes no sense - demons don’t exist. Something else must have happened, some unknown magic, a wormhole, an alternate reality, a time loop maybe. Each ludicrous option seems more likely than their calm explanation, they must be wrong. If demons existed, SHIELD would know. There would be a documentation, strategies, fighting methods.

There would be safe guards to stop idiots in love from making disastrous decisions.

“Bucky, what you’re saying makes no sense. Demons aren’t real,” you say carefully, and goosebumps flare across your skin when Steve lifts guarded eyes to yours. “Steve? They’re not real. It was something else…right?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Every fiber of your being screams this must be a nightmare, any moment you’ll wake up. Maybe you weren’t on the roof that day, maybe this is all a sick lucid dream. Maybe you’re alive and asleep in bed, and when you wake up Bucky will have stolen all the pillows and Steve will be in the kitchen making oatmeal.

Wake up, you chant to yourself. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

Nothing happens. Chest heaving, you spin away, hot tears burning your throat.

“So that’s what you did? You sold your souls to a demon? And in 10 years she comes back and - drags you to hell?”

“Wait,” Bucky says earnestly. “You didn’t let me finish, it wasn’t that. We didn’t sell our souls. That was the regular deal, but not for us. There’s no 10-year limit, we’re staying with you. All three of us, we get to stay together.”

He pushes off the bed and comes toward you, arms reaching for a hug. Surprise blooms over his face when you place both palms flat on his chest and shove. Stumbling back, he hits the mattress with a shocked bounce.

“No,” you grit out, “Tell me you’re not that naive. It had to cost something, so what was it. What did you give her?” Stubbornly, Bucky’s mouth tightens. Fine then. Turning to Steve, you cup his chin, tilting his face until you glimpse the swirl of shame glowing in his blue eyes. “Steve. Tell me what you gave her.”

It takes all of five seconds for him to give in; Steve never could keep a secret. Not from Bucky. Not from you.

“It wasn’t our souls,” he mumbles. Misery seeps from his skin and he stares intently, begging a forgiveness you never realized you had to give. “She asked for - humanity. That was what she wanted. We gave her our humanity.”

At his admission, a fresh urgency, a new panic, fills the hollowness in your heart.

“Your humanity? What does that mean? What happens now?”

Shrugging helplessly, Steve looks back to his feet. “I guess since we gave her that, then maybe we’ll - change. Maybe we’ll become - different.”

It clicks, then.

Different.

Two battle hardened soldiers, potent super strength flowing through their veins. If you take away their good hearts, strip out the kindness and patience and compassion, extinguish the beautiful tenderness that illuminates them from the inside, what remains?

Brutal violence powered by deadly strength. Something cold and destructive. It seems obvious now, why the demon offered this choice.

Stay above and be in love, happy and content for 10 years before death comes calling.

Or stay above and be in love, happy and content for as long as life allows, with one chilling caveat - abandon who you are.

Without a conscience to keep them in check, the scale of violence two super soldiers could wreak across the globe is breathtaking. And if they leave their humanity in the dust and use the serum thrumming in their veins for something dark and terrible? The outcome remains the same.

Someday in the future, death will still come for them. And with a list of innocent deaths attached to their names, it all means the same thing.

No matter what, they’ve damned themselves to hell. It’s only a matter of time.

“But she promised nothing changes between the three of us,” Bucky interrupts the morbid train of thought, gesturing at you, at Steve, at himself. “Other things might change, but she said the three of us, we’ll stay the same. We won’t change, not when it comes to you. We can make this work, I swear.”

His words make you want to scream. How could they be so stupid? How could they not realize?

“God dammit Bucky! You’re telling me that eventually every bit of goodness that makes you human, that will disappear? What then? The world has two psychopaths with fucking super powers? Is that what you’re saying?!”

“But we can fight it,” Bucky argues, rising again. He takes one step and you shove him harder, knocking him back. Frustrated, he slaps the bed. “We can. I know we can. This was a way around it.”

Before you, they both melt into blurry shadows as the tears spill over, rivers of sticky heat dripping down your neck, soaking the ragged collar of your shirt. Hopelessness shatters your voice.

“No you won’t, Bucky. You can’t. So now what? Huh? How am I supposed to save you?”

Deflated, Bucky hesitates before standing again. Cautiously, he steps forward, ignoring the hand you push against his chest, ignoring the bite of your nails scratching his skin. He murmurs your name, an imploring plea, and the sound breaks you. Trembling fingers curl into a fist and you slam your knuckles against the steel of his sternum, anger fading into fear. He says nothing, lets you expend your rage all over him, wild fists punching him over and over, until you collapse. Then he catches you easily, sitting on the bed, cuddling you in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding tight to your halfhearted struggles, before you finally give up. Burying your face against his neck, he rocks you gently, terrified tears drenching his skin like a spring rain. “But she gave you back. That was enough for us to say yes. You were worth the price.”

“I’m not, nothing is worth this,” you sob hysterically. Guilt pours out, overwhelming and soul-shattering. “This will kill you both, it’ll ruin you. I ruined you.”

“No.” Steve says fiercely. Gripping your arm, he gives a harsh shake. “You did not do this. This was our decision. We knew exactly what we were doing, sweetheart. This wasn’t a mistake.”

Steve moves closer, wrapping his arms around you both, one palm on the warm heat of Bucky’s shoulder blade, the other cupping your face. Pressing his lips to your forehead, the solidity of his presence a quiet reassurance. Tangling your hand in his hair, you tug hard, aching to bring him closer.

Maybe, you think, if you hold tight enough you can keep them intact. Humanity. Souls. Hearts. Whatever they’re made up of inside, maybe if you love them hard enough, you can save them.

“He’s right,” Bucky murmurs, trembling lips at your temple, “This was all on us. But if we had to choose between losing you and doing this again, we’d still do this. We’d choose you. We’ll always choose you.”

*****

There are five people who know the truth.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill. Steve tells them but keeps the specifics of the deal vague. Deep down, he knows Nick would lock them up if he knew everything. They were furious, but in different ways. Fury screamed at them for 30 straight minutes, before storming out in a swirl of black leather. Following close behind, Maria gave them a tight-lipped nod and somehow, that silent disappointment was worse.

And then there were the other three.

Natasha, Tony, Sam. All three received perplexing text messages asking them to meet at Bucky and Steve’s apartment; when they arrive, Sam knocks on cautiously and Bucky meets them with a blank face, wordlessly handing each a fresh bottle of whiskey.

“You’ll need it,” is all he says.

With each Avenger clutching their liquor, Bucky and Steve proceed to explain everything. Their sorrow, their grief. The inability to find any future without you. Their anger at everything, at the world, at each other. Calmly, they each offer their perspective and they see Tony looking confused, Sam looking uneasy, and Natasha looking - strangely resigned.

When they finally finish, there’s a long silence, until Natasha snaps the cap on her bottle of whiskey and takes a long swig. She wipes her mouth and asks.

“What did you do?”

Steve looks at Bucky, who stares determinedly at his feet. Nodding to himself, he rises slowly, walking into the bedroom. Beyond the doors, they hear the hum of low voices and then it creaks open. Bucky hesitates for a breath. 

Then he leads you forward.

At the unexpected sight, Tony tumbles off the armchair with a garbled shout and Sam leaps to his feet.

Natasha still sits calmly.

“So. You met the Winchester boys,” she states. Defiance in his eyes, Bucky shoots her a cool glare.

“Yes,” he says shortly, and she simply nods. Carefully setting her bottle of whiskey on the floor, she rises gracefully and tiptoes toward you. Instantly, Steve and Bucky lean into a protective stance, mirrored snarls on their lips, but Natasha brushes them aside. With no hesitation, she wraps you in a fierce hug.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispers in your ear. Burying your face in her hair, the sweet scents of lavender and leather swirl, so unequivocally Natasha.

They explain everything then. The deal, the magic, the price. All down to the last, gruesome detail. At the end of their story, the room is silent. Tony is the first to respond, ashen faced, shaking with unspeakable anger. He heaves his full bottle of whiskey into the fireplace and it explodes with a crash of flames, before he barrels through the front door with a resounding boom.

Sam sways where he stands, his vision folding along the edges. He wants to understand, he does. More than anyone, he saw the depths of grief into which they sunk, but this? He never considered this. But instead of screaming, he says nothing, just hugs you gently, thinking bizarrely of delicately spun glass. Shoulders sagging under the burden of knowing, he silently follows Tony, his footsteps as heavy as his heart.

And Natasha? Well. Standing in the doorway, she smiles sadly.

“I spoke to them too, you know. Found a crossroad in Colorado. Nine years ago,” she confesses. “One year to go.”

The door clicks shut, leaving them to ponder a new horror.

*****

The official SHIELD report stamps your return with CONFIDENTIAL block letters, and the file is buried deep in the vaults. It leaks to the press as a simple solution, a fake out, a way to throw the bad guys off the trail. Here you are, alive and well, on leave for an indeterminate period.

New York becomes too much. Hostile and loud, too many questions, too many opportunities to let the truth slip free. In the middle of the night, the three of you tangled in a mess of sleepy limbs, Steve offers a solution.

At sunrise you leave.

Refuge comes at a secluded cabin in upstate New York, a mossy pile of logs Steve fell in love with years ago and purchased on a whim. Hidden deep in the trees, it overlooks a crystalline lake and when you step inside, it smells of dust and mothballs. With a mop, a few dust rags, and a bit of elbow grease, it quickly becomes a home.

There, life finally moves forward.

Mornings with bitter coffee, mornings with breathless runs, mornings lazing in a massive claw foot bathtub, big enough for three.

Evenings by the crackling fire, evenings full of books and music, evenings filled with Bucky’s sweat slicked hair tangled in your fingers, with Steve’s quiet groans between your legs, with your shaking cries echoing off the walls.

Sheer perfection. Every waking moment. 

After a few weeks, Bucky and Steve tentatively return to combat, agreeing to short missions that never tear them from your side for more than a few days. Stepping up together, they take on the world once more, protecting the innocent, righting the wrongs. Each time they return, they come refreshed and relaxed, full of sweet words and excited laughter, familiar bits of your former life spilling into the comfortable home the three of you have made together.

They seem so happy. So bright and wild and bursting with love.

It makes you wonder. Maybe, just maybe, Bucky was right. Maybe they found a way around the inevitable. Maybe the demon changed her mind. Maybe they’re safe.

Maybe it worked.

*****

Until slowly and certainly, things begin to change.

*****

Bullets are pinging around them, sparks flying through the air. Steve moves confidently, smoothly dodging every bullet slung their way with a flick of his shield. Behind him, Bucky slinks along, his gun at the ready. When they cut around the corner, three men put up a cursory fight, before all three are taken down with a flick of the shield and two well-placed bullets.

“Like taking candy from a baby,” Steve mutters. Sifting through a pile of paper, he gathers up the files, stuffs them in a secure pocket at his hip and motions for Bucky to leave.

They hear a faint moan.

Propped against the wall, sits a hostage. Mouth taped shut, feet tied together. Blood streams thick and heavy down his face, congealing in a warm pool along his collarbone. Death is imminent, even across the room they can smell it coming. As they come closer, the man registers footsteps and opens his eyes, blinking blearily at the two men looking down. Recognition when he sees the familiar red, white, and blue, a glimmer of hope cutting through the pain.

Staring down, Steve twitches his fingers, an unconscious motion to help, before something inside denies the move.

How peculiar.

Turning away, he issues a rough order at Bucky.

“He won’t make it. Put him out of his misery.”

Bucky gazes at the dying man at his feet.

Shrugging, he raises his pistol and pulls the trigger.

*****

Sunlight streams through the tall windows of the living room, as you laze on the couch. Down the hall, you hear the shower running, the sound of Steve’s off-key baritone singing as he soaps the red stains of death from his skin.

When he shuffles into the living room wearing sweatpants and a soft green shirt, his tired eyes find you. The lingering stress falls away and he bounds forward, flopping on the couch with a careless oompf. Dropping a kiss on your forehead, he carefully arranges a pillow in your lap, and plunks his head down. Post shower, his blond hair is wet dark and squeaky clean, the spicy scent of body wash still lingering.

“Scratch my head?” he asks, adding a sweet pout that never fails to make you give in. Dragging your fingers through the damp strands, you rub his scalp and he sighs happily. When he stretches his feet over the edge of the couch with a wide yawn, his muscles shift and twist, reminding you of a lion you saw once at the zoo. Big and lazy, soaking up the warm golden sunshine.

“Nothing but a big lazy cat,” you murmur, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing slow circles over his heart. Closing his eyes, he grins at the comparison. Catching the hand at his chest, he brings your palm to his lips and presses kisses along each finger, before linking his hand to yours. Moments pass, and his body goes lax, a low stream of steady breaths as he drifts to sleep.

In the shifting afternoon sun, you stay there, watching the light play off his pale eyelashes. You think about Steve. Warm skin and golden hair. Sharp claws retracted; teeth hidden. Deadly to everyone, except those he loves.

*****

“I gave you the intel, I gave it to you!”

Bucky stabs the knife into the muscled meat of the man’s thigh, and the responding scream reverberates off the walls. Like flame hot metal through butter, the pale skin is splayed open, revealing marbled streaks of yellow fat, white bone gleaming beneath. Blubbering incoherently, bloody spit foams in the corners of his mouth, wild eyes rolling back in his head.

“I gave it to you, I did, I did, I did, please!”

There is a pause and for a blessed moment, the man believes he has a reprieve. Swollen eyes fly open, meeting bright blue and Bucky smiles.

And then he punches the knife handle straight through the man’s thigh bone. It cracks and splinters apart and the man screams and screams and screams and Bucky laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Did you think I fucking cared?”

*****

The sticky scent of maple syrup wakes you.

Crawling from the empty bed, you wrap the feather down comforter around your shoulders and shuffle from the bedroom, eager for the source.

The sight catches you off guard. Unimaginably soft.

There in the kitchen, Bucky stands in nothing but skintight black boxers.

Hair twisted in a messy knot, he shimmies through the small space, dancing absently to the music tinkling from the small speaker propped on the windowsill. On the stove, he has a flat skillet coated in butter and filled with bubbling silver-dollar pancakes. Along the edge of the counter, he taps out a rhythm with his spatula, tap tap tap-a-tap-a-tap, and your heart swells at the gentle domesticity.

When he whirls around, he discovers you watching from the doorway, sleepy and rumpled. He lights up, a honeyed smile on his lips, and stretches out a hand, a wordless request. Tripping into his arms, he tucks you safe against his chest.

“Morning baby,” he murmurs, warm breath tickling your ear. “God you look beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?”

The words are simple, lovely phrases he’s shared a million times before, but still your belly flips. Rubbing your cheek against his hot skin, you relax. Let yourself believe everything is perfect, while Bucky dances you slowly around the cozy kitchen until the charcoal crisp of pancake flavors the air.

“Buck, I think your pancakes are burning,” you breathe against the sandpaper stubble along his neck.

He merely hums.

“Let ‘em burn. I’m dancin’ with my girl.”

Mellow notes of smoky jazz drift through the air and you burrow closer, until Bucky pulls you down to the smooth kitchen tiles. The feather comforter pillows beneath you, the searing heat of his mouth tracing down your neck.   

*****

“We’re out of time, set the bombs off. Now.”

In all the time he’s known known Steve Rogers, Sam has never heard his voice like this. Brittle. Cold. Devoid of emotion. On the ground below, amid soaring walls of steel and glass, screaming voices echo off the tower buildings. From his perch high above the melee, Sam stares watches people streaming from the front doors. He hesitates.

“There are still people inside,” he responds.

On the other end of the line is a bone crunching thunk, a truncated scream. Steve’s voice returns.

“Did I fucking stutter? Set it off. Now.”

Again, Sam hesitates, the trigger clenched in his sweaty hand. He shakes his head.

“Negative, Cap. There are still - “

“Jesus Christ, Wilson, you fucking pussy,” Bucky snarls. He rips the black box from Sam’s numb fingers and shoves him aside. Without pause, he flips the switch.

Across the street, the building rumbles and sways and in the space of a breath, the world is rent apart: glass shatters, steel beams screech, concrete explodes. All those still inside, fighting their way to freedom, go down in a crush of rubble, screams and shouts silenced by the thundering rush of crumbling stone.

Stalking around the corner, Steve is sliding the shield onto his back. Without a glance at the crowd below, he rushes at Sam.

“When I tell you to do something, don’t you ever fucking hesitate. You understand?”

Beside him, Bucky snorts and flings the device to the ground. He grinds it under his heel and strolls away, resuming his stance above the disaster. Blanching at the rage in those blue eyes, Sam takes a wordless step back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”

*****

The last time Steve came to the familiar meadow, was because he needed space to let the rage in his heart spill into the world. In the desolation of those black nights, he screamed his fury into the heavens, broken beyond repair.

This time is different.

Velvety night drips through the sparse tree branches as you walk through the dense forest, Steve leading the way, Bucky close behind. Slivers of moonlight streak through the dark trees, illuminating the huffs of frosty white breath.

When you reach the clearing, Steve slips his warm hand through your gloved fingers, Bucky curves a protective arm around your shoulders. Together, they lead you toward the middle of the field, until they come to an abrupt halt.

Bemused, you stare at them. Under the shy glow of white moonlight, they look carved from marble.

Fallen angels, maybe.

“Is everything okay?” you whisper, eyes roving uncertainly between them.

From the depths of his pocket, Bucky pulls free a black satin box. It sits in the palm of his hand and he looks nervously at you, over to Steve, back to you. He clears his throat.

“We’ve been talking about this forever.” A crooked smile lifts his lips. “Since the first night you spent with us. This here, what we have with you, it’s the only thing we want. We don’t need anything official, but we thought you should know. We’ll love you forever, sweetheart. If you’ll let us.”

Gently, he opens the case, revealing a dark ring set against white silk. Eyes wide, you watch as Bucky lifts the simple band, two strings of delicate black vibranium twisted into an infinity circle. As he holds it aloft, Steve nudges him, and they both fall, kneeling to worship at your feet.

“What do you think?” Steve murmurs. Tentative, hesitant. As though the answer could ever be anything other the words rolling from your tongue.

No matter the circumstance, the love you have for Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers is the one shining light in a world of darkness.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Of course. I love you both so much, nothing will ever change that. Forever.”

Under the raw, naked gleam of the bright night, you kneel before them, face to face with their delighted smiles. Together they reach for you, pulling you into the safe haven of their arms.

*****

“God dammit Rogers! You’re out of line with this shit!”

Leaning over his desk, Nick Fury wipes irritably at the fat beads of sweat dripping down his temple.

Across from him, Steve and Bucky sit in matching leather chairs, both still wearing their combat uniforms. They look like heathens, covered in dust and blood, the pervading reek of death defiling the pristine shine of the SHIELD office. Bucky sits with his legs sprawled open, Steve with one ankle balanced on the opposite knee.

Both are smirking.

“Are we though?” Steve shrugs, eyes wide. “If you’re not gonna do your job, someone has to pick up the slack. Like always.”

Nick grinds his teeth so hard they nearly crack. He sees red.

“That’s it, you cocky sonofabitch. We’re done with this. Effective immediately, you’re relieved of your duties. Both of you.”

Steve tips his head back and laughs, an inhuman sound. Nick feels his gut twist.

“Really? Buck did you hear that? We’re ‘relieved’ of our duties. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a fucking relief,” Bucky drawls. He picks at his fingernail, scraping dried blood from beneath and flicking it away. Tilting his head, he looks up at Fury with a poisonous smile. “But I dunno, the thing is Director, we’re pretty happy with our jobs. Pays the bills and gives us something to do, so I don’t think we’ll accept your offer. Another day, maybe. That sound good Stevie?”

“Sounds great, Buck.”

At a loss for words, Nick stares. Over the decades, he’s encountered some genuinely fucked up people, a common currency in this line of business, but this? This right here? This is a whole other level. Every hint of remorse, every bit of humanity, every last fragment of goodness is gone. Disappeared. Nothing more than ashes in the wind.

It is a bleak world, when superheroes become the monsters they hunt.

Steeling himself, Nick presses his fists into the desk to hide the shaking tremor of nerves.

“One last warning Rogers. Turn in your weapons and go home. Stand down, or I will make you.”

“Oh please,” Steve sneers, delight in his voice, “give it your best shot. I can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Smoothly simultaneous, they stand. The sound of raucous laughter follows them through the door and into the hallway, before abruptly ending as the heavy wood slams shut. Wide-eyed, Nick sinks slowly into his creaking leather chair.

The skin along the back of his neck tingles.

“Motherfucker,” he whispers.

*****

Standing at the edge of the dark lake, gentle ripples slide along the edges of cracked ice. It grows so fast now, stretching frozen fingers to claim the sheet of blue. Like a parasite, hardening the shoreline, freezing the world to stone.

The wicked irony of the metaphor is not lost.

Staring at the mobile phone clenched tight in your icy fingers, you turn it on for the first time in weeks and the screen lights up with a sea of notifications, red blips and blinking green lights, texts, emails, voicemails. Indicators of an increasingly desperate world beyond the confines of your comfortable bubble. Scrolling through, the names are an endless loop and your heart plummets.

Natasha, Sam, Tony. Nick Fury.

While Steve and Bucky have said nothing, the question itched at your brain. Upon each return, you begged them to tell you: what happened, how were they feeling, what did they see, was anything changing? And over and over, they answered with bashful shrugs and dashing smiles, fervent kisses pressed to your lips as they murmured the same response.

Nothing changed. Everything is good, we feel fine.

Nausea rises, thick and sour. Why did you ever let yourself believe them?

Before, they agonized over morality, what was right, the cost of their decisions. But now? The evidence of their lies glare up in black and white. Thumbing through, you see the increasing alarm in every message, descriptions of all they’ve done. Bombs, gunshots, torture. Blatant disregard for lives, for their team, for anything and anyone other than themselves.

Any semblance of humanity whittled away to nothing. Shattered by a desperate wish and a bargaining dance with a red-eyed demon.

Fuck.

Finger hovering over the latest message from Natasha, you brace yourself and click it open. The words jumble together, swimming black letters.

Nat: Dean Winchester. 785-555-0128. Call him. Please.

Eyes shut, you tip your face up to the sky, sucking in a lungful of sharp air.

For all the darkness circling their souls, the truth is, it remains pure and clear when it comes to their love for you. Bright smiles in the morning, rich laughter teasing through the day, sweet caresses in the night. The unconventionally beautiful relationship among the three of you created remains flawless.

Just as the demon promised.

Selfishly, you want that to be enough - if only it could be - but no. Some wrongs need to be righted, and this tragedy now rests squarely in your hands. Maybe you can save them. Maybe.

And if you can’t?

Heart hammering wildly in your chest, you punch the number, lift the phone to your ear and wait. It rings for so long, you nearly give up, until a gruff voice finally answers.

“Hello?”

*****

End

*****

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

to be treated this way - chapter i

pair: shownu x reader 

summary: When your alpha - sort-of - found his true mate, you’re stuck dealing with the aftermath and the coming of your next heat. So when your friend suggested a “dating service” to aid you, signing up seemed like a no-brainer. So, you’ve prepared yourself for the dominance, the adrenaline-fueled by fear and arousal and the constant out-of-this-world sex but when you meet Shownu, everything you know about Alphas is challenged. He’s soft - for the lack of better word. He cooks you meals, he takes you out on dates… all of which are not really necessary for an Alpha - Omega relationship… right? Whatever. You’d just really, really, wish he’d touch you now warning: this story may be slow-paced at the start, no other warnings for now - also, boo seungkwan’s appearance! a/b/o dynamics! 

Many poets and writers have tried, failed and came close to describing what true heartbreak is. Such fundamental human experience is so universal that many men and women across history have drawn inspiration from it and created amazing works of art - sculptures, plays, books and songs. At the back of your mind, you remember reading something like - “If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life” and although it’s beautiful and you certainly want to be saved, you feel like it’s too dramatic to apply to your own situation.

Even though you certainly feel like dying right now.

Mouth dry and head pounding, you blearily open your eyes to the sight of your blinking alarm clock. The numbers 1:03 pm mocks you in all its inherent cheeriness. Underneath the cocoon of your warm bed, you squirm, sweating and uncomfortable – feeling like you just want to crawl out of your skin just to reach the itch between your skin and bones. Fists closing and unfurling, you try to resist the urge to scratch, knowing that there’s nothing to find beneath, nothing to offer you relief.

Kicking off your sheets, you try to reign in the uneasiness. At the back of your ears, you feel the itch worsen, crawling down your nape burning down its path. Rubbing yourself against the scratchy texture of your bedsheets feels like heaven and hell alternating between five seconds – the brief relief only highlighting the torment of your hormones tenfold.

Time seem to pass too slowly as you try to muster the strength to get up. But your body refuses to cooperate, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy. This is what you hate the most about suppressants, the side-effects feels like punishment for being born an omega. Your head feels like it’s submerged underwater, and you don’t hear your apartment door opening with a bang.

“I’m here!” Seungkwan sings, grocery bags hanging from his arms. His eyes roam your kitchen before landing on you through your open bedroom door. At the sight of you, his mood drops. ”Oh my god, what are you doing!”

Your best friend rushes over to you and grasps your wrists, quickly pulling it away from your arms.

Streaks of scratches marred your neck and arms while you tremble. He notes with a small amount of relief, that at least, you didn’t break skin.

Aish, this girl.

Relief flood you at the familiar smell of your friend and his cool hands, drawing away from the heat marked by your nails. You let him drag you up to your couch. Sitting down, he grasps your wrists with one hand and reaches for one of the grocery bags with his other.

“Next time I see him, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.” Seungkwan swears, agitated. Between the two of you, there’s only one person he could be referring to. You wince at the thought of Geun-woo, the alpha who had once frequented your bed. Pulling you out of your thoughts, Seungkwan fishes out a sheet of tablets and pops one open for you.

Trusting you to control yourself, he lets go of your wrists and hands you a bottle of water from the same bag.

“It’s not his fault he found his true mate, Seungkwanie.” You sigh, after swallowing the pill. You don’t know if it’s placebo or not, but immediately, the irritating itch and heat under your skin recedes.

The beta rolls his eyes. True mates, bah – people throw it around like a free pass. “True mate or not, it doesn’t mean he gets to drop you like a hot sweet potato – which you are, sweet and you look like a potato, woman, get yourself together! – and ride off into the sunset. Any decent alpha knows that omegas need weaning –”

Seungkwan goes off on a rant that you’ve heard on loop for the past week.

Geun-woo was a friend from the university. As alphas tend to be, he was popular and well-liked by your peers. His designation spurred him to be in the best shape he could be, drove him to win championship after championship for your university football team. After graduation, he went on to train for the national team and was – is – on his way to being a national athlete.

You could talk on and on about who Oh Geun-woo is to many people, but you could summarize what he was to you in three words: not your boyfriend.

The arrangement between the two of you was simple. You were adults, busy people living busy lives interrupted almost monthly by your heats and ruts. It was a logical and practical way to ensure that neither of you spend your vulnerable biological ~events~ alone. It was a good arrangement and after two years of it, you could honestly call Geun-woo a good friend.

However, the downside with spending such time so often with someone you’re not bonded with is you develop what experts call, a quasi-bond. It has all the effects of being bonded but dialed down by almost a hundred. You think it’s an exaggeration but you, an unbonded omega, really isn’t in the position to do so.

So when, Geun-woo found his true mate at some meet abroad, he dropped you faster than you could blink.

You don’t blame him, but man, it sucks.

Seungkwan glanced at you, sighing at your silence. Sending a prayer above, he fishes his wallet and takes out a card. “I have a suggestion.”

With your heat coming at you, barreling in the next two weeks, you’re just about open to any suggestion so, you hum behind your coffee mug, “The floor’s yours.” Well, at least the little of it that’s still visible under your clothes and knick-knacks.

“Before you say anything, know that I am suggesting this out of the goodness of my heart. But why don’t you consider this?” Seungkwan implored, handing you the card.

The black and purple card reads; “SS Matching Services” and under it, their company motto; “We’ve got the match for you.” With their office address and contact number.

“A pimping service?”

“Ya,” Seungkwan protested, red-faced, “Take your 19th century standards out of the gutter.”

His adamant protest startles a laugh out of you. For the guy who used to glare at anyone holding hands in public, your best friend has grown well. “Actually, it was worse in the 19th century but go off, I guess.”

Seungkwan leveled you with a flat look that had you raising your hands in surrender. No good can come from antagonizing the guy who just quite literally saved your life. “I’m listening.”

“Look, it’s just an option and it’s legit. Tough screening process too.” He takes out his phone and shows you the company’s website. Briefly, you glance at it before taking the card. Physically, it weighs like nothing but in your mind, it weighs like something amazing.

“How’d you know that?”

“My sunbaenim, uses this from time to time. It helps with his ruts. Win-win.” Seungkwan shrugs. You wonder which sunbae he’s referring to, given his many hobbies.

The website doesn’t look like it’ll give your laptop a virus, you’ll give it that. It’s classy and clean, and no random photos of just naked torsos. Good sign.

“You’re surprisingly blasé about this.” You laugh, eyes warm and surprised at how maturely Seungkwan delivers, only to laugh out loud at the sight of his burning ears.

You promised Seungkwan that you’ll check out the site but as soon as you got back to work, everything just swept you away.

That’s what happens when you work with kids.

Eyes warm with fondness, you quietly pat the bottom of one of your snoozing students. It’s nap time and your classroom has turned into some sort of sleepover area with all your students wrapped up with their soft blankets, nuzzling into their softer pillows. The early afternoon light filters into the room through the curtains, painting over the children with a soft glow.

Across you, another teacher takes the opportunity to get some of her own sleep in, curling herself protectively around two kids. Your classroom smells like baby powder and sweet treats, littered with small pastel chairs and tables. Its walls decorated with your students artworks and colorful cartoon characters.

This, this is one of the many moments that remind you why you became a pre-school teacher.

Many of your peers assumed it’s because of your designation. Omegas are naturally more inclined to take positions that require caretaking, given the innate desire to give care to others. Just like alphas are more likely to take positions that require leadership.

However, you muse, cooing as the young beta in front of you snuggle closer to your lap, many tend to gloss over the many manifestations of one’s designation. It’s true that by virtue of being an omega, you’re naturally more inclined to take care of your peers. Your so-called softness being the defining quality of your group.

But your omega manifestation is… a bit different. Sometimes, it makes you wonder how you got hired as a preschool teacher in the first place.

“Teach’r, sleepy time?”

Glancing down, you see the young beta pout at you. Waving away your thoughts, you slide down to her side and let the afternoon light lull you to sleep. All thoughts about your heat fading away quietly.

Soon, naptime was over and so is the day. Parents slowly trickle in, one after another, to pick up their children. Most of them harried from work, but still smiling at you and your co-teachers in gratitude.

“See you tomorrow, Rahui!” You call, as the last student leaves.

The little girl in her puffy sweater turns and smiles at you sweetly. “Bye, bye, teacher! Sleepy time!”

You flush at your student’s comment much to her mother’s confusion. After falling asleep earlier, you’d woken up to a clean classroom and several of your students hovering over you. Your pre-heat symptoms felt like they’re coming too fast for your taste.

Waving her off with a smile, you untie your apron and walk to the staff room where the others are. It’s almost 6 pm, and your daily staff meeting’s in session. In front of the room is your superior, an older bonded omega, with deep dimples on her cheek.

“Good job today, everyone.” She starts off, smiling at the soft cheers from everyone. “As you know…”

Your superior continues on to talk about the children’s upcoming activities. Vaguely, you hear her talk about a field trip, or is it a field demo? Shaking your head, you try to clear your thoughts but it seem like everything’s underwater, and no sound is escaping from her lips.

“… right, y/n?”

Blinking, you focus, and sent her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Your superior smiles forgivingly, “I was asking about that self-defense class you’ve been wanting to teach. When would you like to schedule it? Of course, pending approval with everyone’s schedule.”

Immediately, a large smile appears on your cheek. It’s approved?? You’ve been proposing that seminar for months. Most of the omega teachers were wary of the thought but warmed up to it recently. Especially when you mentioned how it’ll help them protect their kids – their students – more.

“How about two weeks from now?”

“Anytime!” You offer. The enthusiasm isn’t lost on your co-workers, some of them shaking their heads in amusement.

Your superior looks over your office board and hums at the chart. It contains all your schedules, including leaves, conferences to attend and heat cycles. With one look, your heart drops.

“Actually…” you start off, wincing at the thought of inconveniencing everyone because of your biology. “My heat is coming up in two weeks…”

Surprisingly, or not, omegas are actually quite liberal in discussing things like this. It’s simply part of the biology you live with. So your mortification is unfounded as your co-workers nod in understanding, quickly suggesting different dates.

Your superior nods, and glances at your work log book. “Well, we could schedule maybe four weeks from now to get you time to recover? Don’t forget to file your leave.”

Right.

“I still can’t believe she flew you in for her rut.” Jooheon’s laugh and disbelief reaches Shownu’s ears before he even steps inside. Smiling to himself, he finds his friends lounging in his living room, completely comfortable and completely unexpected.

Jooheon looks up at his arrival, “Hi, hyung! We let ourselves in!” 

“I can see that.” Shownu nods in greeting, trying to remember who he gave his spare keys to. He’s pretty sure he didn’t make six copies of his set. Shrugging off his coat, he look on, realizing how his living room looks smaller with a bunch of guys occupying it. Jooheon and Minhyuk are on his couch, Changkyun’s on his stomach on the floor, playing with his phone and, Hyunwoo and Kihyun are by the window drinking a can of beer each. 

That’s one, two, three… four, five… 

“Hey, you’re home! And – are those protein bars?” The paper bag is snatched from his hand, before Shownu registers, blinking slowly as Wonho disappears once again into the kitchen. 

The smell of jajjangmyeon invades his senses. Ah, yes, guys’ night. 

Shortly after his arrival, everyone gathers in the dining room. With the two youngest improvising chairs out of the boxes Shownu hasn’t had the chance to unpack, having just moved into his new home a month ago. 

To the eldest’s surprise, everyone pitched in with dinner, bringing different dishes and filling the dining table. Assorted cuts of meat are sizzling over the portable electric grill Wonho brought, several small plates of side-dishes and… are those buttered crabs he’s seeing? “What’s this?” 

Minhyuk shoots him an amused glance over his beer, “You don’t really think we’ll let you off without a house warming, right?” 

Shownu blinks, a small bashful smile forming on his lips, “But I’ve been here a month.”

An arm wraps around his shoulder and a weight shakes him back and forth. Kihyun rolls his eyes, getting into his personal space. “This is the first time we’ve been complete for a month! Just enjoy it!” 

Jooheon hums, his cheeks filled with lettuce and meat from the grill. “Yeah, I mean, though it’s only Minhyuk-hyung that hasn’t been around, too busy getting his dick wet.” 

“Oi!” their youngest protests, ears burning and nearly spitting out his drink. “We are eating.” 

Wonho heartily “taps” Changkyun’s back, laughing. “We’re all adults here. It’s not as if you haven’t heard or said anything worse, Kyunie.” 

“Yeah, daddy~” Hyungwon hits, reminding everyone of one very particular incident in college that featured a younger Changkyun and a girl from the bar, and the very thin walls of their shared apartment. 

Changkyun flushes before rolling his eyes, “At least I get some. Can’t say the same to you.” 

Scoffing, Minhyuk raises his hands, “Excuse me, I have no problem with that.” 

Before Minhyuk starts to dive into his sexual exploits, Kihyun saves the day and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth and diverts the conversation to work.

Over food and drinks, Shownu and his friends catch up on their personal lives – not having as much time to get together as before. Not with Wonho’s celebrity coaching taking off, Jooheon and Changkyun’s new artist, Kihyun’s voice academy and Hyungwon’s and Minhyuk’s modelling. 

Sometimes, Shownu feels left behind by the big dreams his friends are living but every day, he wakes up and goes home happy as a chef and food blogger. His appetite thanking him for the career path he chose. Besides, as Changkyun said, he could go big time if he wants, it’s just a matter of self-promotion which he’s terrible at given his shy personality. 

Dinner passes by with a blur and they find themselves nursing their last beers when Jooheon circles back to Minhyuk’s vacation. 

“So, hyung. How does it feel to fulfill your sugar baby dreams?” The young alpha jokes, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he elbows Minhyuk. 

Stars appear in the latter’s eyes and with a dreamy sigh, he responds jokingly, “Just as I’ve always dreamed.” 

The one of the only two omegas of their group has never shied away from talking about his exploits, his looks and all the advantages he gets from it. Often, he jokes that’s why he became a model – to be admired and to fulfill his duties to the world and bless them with his godly looks. 

“She flew me to her family’s island, and we spent her rut and my heat underneath the blanket of stars.” Minhyuk recounts, all dreamy-eyed, “I felt really spoiled.”

“I bet.” Kihyun remarked, smirking. “Is this the girl you’ve been telling us about?”

Ignoring Hyungwon’s cough of which one, Minhyuk nods, “Yes!” and turns to Shownu, “She’s actually friends with Nayeon – who, by the way, is asking me about you, hyung.” 

Shownu blinks, before handing a can of beer to Wonho across him. “Me?” 

“Yeah, she asked why you never called her.” 

A chorus of ooh’s echoes in the room followed by a few gruff laughter. Shownu ducks his head and nurses his drink. Nayeon’s a nice girl, a model that he met when Minhyuk called in a favor for him to substitute as one of their shoot’s models after the original model called in sick. She gave him his number on a piece of paper before departing with a sultry look and a flying kiss. 

Contrary to popular belief, Shownu is not dense – or, more like, he’s not that dense. 

“Ah,” Shownu starts, “Um. I don’t think we’re looking for the same thing.” 

Wonho pauses and eyes him, before levelling the younger guys with a look that has them catching their teasing remarks and keeping it to themselves. Wonho has known Shownu the longest and knows that though his friend’s an alpha, physically, through and through, his disposition often throws people off. 

He’s soft when others are hard. Soft-spoken, patient like a saint and very careful with his actions and words. Wonho doesn’t even remember if he’s ever seen his friend get angry or aggressive in the span of their long friendship. 

A romantic at heart, through and through.

“Well,” Kihyun claps, breaking the quiet, “You know, no point in pursuing something that you know’s a dead end, right?”

Minhyuk pouts, sometimes a little bit insensitive in his enthusiasm, “But she’s cute! And she’s an omega too! Besides – wait—how do you even deal with your ruts?” 

Shownu’s face lights up like a lantern, the drinks doing nothing about the flush crawling up his neck. It’s not like he’s never spent it with someone, but every time, after the week of his rut, he always feel tired and empty. So for the past ruts, he’s been dealing with it - “Alone, with suppressants.”

“Yah, I thought you’d stopped taking those!” 

Constant use of suppressants for an alpha fucks up their cycle and even their moods. Wonho knows this the best because he was on it for several months back in college, before he started becoming confident enough in his newfound muscles and height. 

“I did.” Shownu nods, assuring his friends. “I don’t use them anymore. Just when I’m… you know. It’s just easier to deal with.”

All the alphas in the room scoff under their breaths. Yeah, it’s easy if easy felt like walking and dancing on hot coal in the middle of the hottest summer day. It’s not as if their eldest can’t get a woman just by standing by the bar, being his awkward self. 

At their little corner, Jooheon and Changkyun glance at each other, years of friendship evident in their wordless communication. Changkyun tilts his head, eyes widening and jaw clenched, “Go”, he mouths. 

Jooheon pouts, “Do you know how hard it is to get into their mixers, punk?” 

Shrinking at Changkyun’s flat stare, Jooheon rolls his eyes and sends a prayer to the universe asking for good karma. 

“Hyung, what do you think about dating services?” 

Notes: The stage is set for our two protagonists! I tried to incorporate as much world-building and character backgrounds as I can without it being over the top. Please leave comments and asks! :) I’m trying to stick to weekly updates. Also, support Monsta X’s next comeback! 

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Fables by Squiggles: ”The Most Beautiful Rose”

Squiggly Disclaimer: 

...Ooookay. You guys remember this, right? This was originally an incomplete RWBY Squiggle Script that I polished up back in June  in the hopes of turning it into my own little project to contribute to the Rose-gardening Rosebuds community. 

...Unfortunately; due to school and other responsibilities that came up, I wasn’t exactly able to really do what I wanted to with this story, sadly to say:/. But since Rosegarden Week II is in season alongwith today being the canonical birthday of a certain lovely rose, this squiggle meister decided to just simply post what I had managed to pull together for this short story.

It’s not exactly what I’d call a finished but...it sells what I wanted to convey with it. Apologies to those who were looking forward to seeing this become something.  I still really, really, REALLY wanted to share this short story especially with my fellow Rosegardeners because it’s based on one of my favourite Rosegarden fan theories---well several of them actually.

So…in the end, I just decided to post this story anyways, as is.  I hope my fellow Rosegardeners will like it maybe if they happen to read the whole thing. 

Happy Rosegarden Week 2.0 and a happy birthday to the most beautiful rose who inspired this short tale of mine. Enjoy! 

“…It is only with the heart that one can see rightfully. What is essential is invisible to the eye”

- The Little Prince

I was once just a boy. Another simple farm boy from Mistral in a continent full of them. Nothing special and I used to believe that that was all I was destined to be for the rest of my life. Then my life changed. Suddenly I went from being another farm boy from Mistral to one in a culmination of valiant men who gave their lives to protect humanity from the forces of evil time and time again. You would think that then this would grant me some semblance of individuality. But no. Once again I was made just another in a different category. Nothing special and for a second time, I convinced myself that this was all I was meant to be for the remainder of whatever life I have left. But then I got to know you.

Since we met, you’ve always treated me differently. You’ve always treated me like I was my own person. Like I’m still me. Because that’s who you see when you look at me, right? You don't see him. You don't see them. You see me. To you, I'm not just another life in a lifetime of other lives. To you, I'm unique and I've always appreciated that about you. You always saw me for who I was rather than who I was meant to become. You see me. This is why I want you to know that I see you too.

It's kind of hard not to. Hair red like roses. Silver eyes as radiant as the moon. Endearing. Enchanting. Unforgettable. Beautiful. But that's not all I see when I look at you. I see your honest soul. Your courageous heart. Your indomitable will. Your warmth and genuine kindness to those you believe need help. Your dedication to the people you love. Your unquantifiable spark that drives you. That drives all of us. You are such an extraordinary person destined for greatness. You are the one I look to the most.

So don't think for one second that I would never notice if you were hurting. That I wouldn't be quick to help if someone hurt you. That I wouldn't give anything; do everything in my power to protect that spark of yours and keep that flame burning bright from those who dare try snuffing it out. I may not be the strongest. Or the bravest. I am not that special. But you make me feel that way to you. You have given me the strength to believe in myself. In a legacy of lives, you make me feel unique. So please understand just how much I want you to know how unique you are to me too.

“Whitley Schnee may be rich and smart but...he's not the only rich or smart person in this world. He's not even the only guy in this world,” Oscar said slowly, “I guess what I’m trying to say is…Remnant is a pretty big world as Jinn showed us. But it doesn’t matter if you are one person in a world of a hundred thousand billion more people. Find that special someone who only has eyes for you. The person who thinks that you’re the most unique to them in all the world.”

Oscar flashed Ruby his most reassuring smile. His hand was resting comfortingly on top hers and at the sight of her disgruntled expression; Oscar gave it a light squeeze in hopes that it would increase his chances of ridding the silver-eyed girl of her melancholy. However much to the former farm boy’s disappointment, Ruby only frowned further in her seat across from him as she gazed idly at the running water of the statuesque fountain before them. Oscar felt his heart sink at the anguish written on Ruby’s face; cheeks red and tear-stained from her previous cry. When she finally spoke, her voice was a whisper.

“Do you really mean what you said?” Ruby said solemnly, “do you think there is someone like that out there… even for me?

The insecurity emphasized in her words was enough to make Oscar grimace. He was so used to seeing Ruby be a beacon of unbridled confidence that it was heartbreakingly difficult seeing her this torn up over herself. So Oscar wasted no time in taking Ruby’s hand again; positioning himself closer to her so that his other hand was now rubbing her opposite shoulder.

“Of course!” Oscar answered confidently, “You have your people who love you, remember? I don't have to tell you that.”

“I know but...that's not what I meant,” Ruby uttered sheepishly, “I meant like...”

She trailed off abruptly. At first Oscar was confused by this, but eventually his eyes widened in realization of what she was trying to imply and he blushed despite himself.

“...Oh! Y---You mean...like a boyfriend?” Oscar said.

His question was only answered by the deepened frown on Ruby’s face. Suddenly her own cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of pink and she avoided Oscar’s inquisitive gaze in embarrassment. “You know what forget I said anything!” Ruby griped stubbornly.  

“No! No! It's okay I get it.” Oscar blurted awkwardly. He then cleared his throat regaining his calm demeanour as he pressed on with his earlier comment. “And yes; of course there's a guy waiting for you,” Oscar assured, “look, I know you were probably hoping for Whitley to be that guy and…it's terrible what he said to you. But...it doesn't mean he'll be the only guy.”

“You sure about that?” Ruby said.

“Of course,” Oscar countered honestly, “You're Ruby Rose. You're amazing.” .

This earned Oscar a smile from Ruby. A small one but genuine at best. Lovely as the twinkle of a star in the night’s sky. But it was unceremoniously short-lived; extinguished yet again as the melancholy returned.

“Oh Oscar, you are so sweet. You’re a sweet guy and it's pretty clear why girls would fall for you,” Ruby said humbly, “and right now I couldn't have asked for a better friend to say such nice things to me. But… I also know you're just saying that as my friend and not a guy who...”

For a second time, Ruby trailed off, suddenly withdrawing herself to hug her arms miserably. As if fighting back tears. Oscar did his best to reach out to her again but Ruby only brushed him off, turning away to hide her face.

“I know…it's dumb of me to get upset over something silly like this,” Ruby said softly, “and normally I wouldn't. I've always prided myself on being the type of girl who didn't care about this kind of stuff.”

“Stuff like what?” Oscar asked.

“My looks. The attention of boys. I mean who cares, right?”  Ruby scoffed dryly, “I never had to care. I'm a huntress. I fight villains and monsters ten…no, hundred times my size everyday not for the fame and glory of the title but because it’s the right thing to do. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to be like the heroes in the stories Yang and my mom would read to me. I wanted to be the kind of person that gives people hope because when the chips are down, even the tiniest bit of hope can be enough to bind us. I thought that way of thinking was honourable. Admirable even.”

“It is…” Oscar tried to say but Ruby cut him off.

“So then why should I care if some handsome rich boy tells me that my way of thinking is naïve and pointless,” Ruby said, voice rising angrily, “that my goals and ambitions are ridiculous because a single huntress like me is worthless when an army can do my job and more.”

“ …Ruby…”

“WHY SHOULD I CARE IF SOME GUY I LIKED TELLS ME THAT I’M NOTHING SPECIAL!” Ruby cried.

At this point, the tears had returned to her face and Oscar’s heart sank.

“…That….that the only reason he even considered pursuing me was because of my silver eyes?” Ruby sobbed, “that if it wasn’t for that, he’d probably ask one of the many other girls who are far superior than me. That’s the word he used. As if to make fun of my intelligence too. Because…what? It’s not like I have anything else going for me. According to Whitley, I’m no special flower. Why consider myself the prettiest most unique rose when there are plenty others far prettier than I’ll ever be. I mean I didn’t really need him to tell me that. I’ve known that all along…”

“ …Weiss, Blake, Yang, Nora, Neon--- Of course guys would find them desirable. They’re all so very beautiful.

But me…I…”

An aching sob.

“…I’m…”

Tears stained her face, her trembling, tasting her bitterness of her own emotions.

“…I’m not...”

It was evident what she was about to say and at this point, Oscar had had enough.

She was breaking. Literally falling apart before his eyes.

Slowly but surely, Oscar touched Ruby’s cheek. She needed her to hear him. He willed her to listen to him as he ran his thumb gently across her skin, wiping away any stray tears that fell.

“Ruby, look at me.” Oscar said softly.

She ignored him. “Look at me, please.” Oscar implored.

With another whimper, Ruby met the farm boy’s gaze.

“Okay. This is the part where you stop and you listen to me very carefully, okay?” Oscar said determinedly.

Ruby said nothing. So Oscar continued.

“ Y’know when we first met Whitley, I thought he was a pretty smart guy,” Oscar admitted,  “It’s…one of the reasons why I thought you liked him so much. But I’ve misjudged him just as much as he’s misjudged you. I can withhold my tongue about a lot of things but I will not stand here and watch you cry in front of me while saying you’re not beautiful. That is ridiculous and don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Gently, Oscar wiped away the tears that streaked down Ruby’s cheek, his tender gaze never leaving her. He was rewarded for a second time with a small smile from Ruby who couldn’t resist the light-hearted laugh that escaped her lips. “How do you do that?” she managed to blubber out, “Know exactly what to say to help me feel better?”

“Well, you always know what to say to inspire others. Let’s just say I learned from the best.” Oscar replied warmly.

“You’re just saying that.” Ruby said coyly.

“ I mean it, though,” Oscar said honestly, “you're an extraordinary girl  Ruby Rose. So Whitley Schnee wasn’t the perfect date. That’s fine. Clearly he didn’t deserve you to begin with if he’s willing to look pass even the minor details of what makes you so great. Besides there’ll be other guys.”

Ruby’s face fell and at this; Oscar lifted her chin so she was looking directly at him as he emphasized his next words.

“There will be other guys,” Oscar said firmly, “any guy who gets to fall in love with you or just be with you … is...the luckiest guy in the world.” 

“You really think there’s a guy like that out there for me?” Ruby asked.

“Of course!” Oscar answered, “Out there...” He then cupped Ruby’s face, touching his forehead to hers. “…R---Right here. Right...in front to you.” Oscar added softly; voice practically a whisper.

“…What?” Ruby asked.                                                            

Oscar’s cheeked turned pink at Ruby’s reaction but still he kept his gaze determined. “I'm saying...I'm that guy,” Oscar said, gentle yet confident, “I mean...I want to be that guy. I want to be the guy who gets to stand by your side. I want to be the guy who does everything he can to make you happy. I want to be the guy who feels like the luckiest person in the world because he gets to be with you. I’m saying…I love you , Ruby…”

Ruby’s eyes widened. Her heartbeat quickened. She couldn’t believe her ears.

Oscar loves her.

He loves her.

Did she hear him correctly?

The heat rose in Ruby’s face extending to her ears which were practically ringing at that point.

Oscar loves her. The thought alone dissolved Ruby’s inner mind into a tidal wave of emotions.

Surprise. Disbelief. Confusion. Nervousness. More confusion. All mixed in with a strange feeling that Ruby never realized was there before. It was…a lighter kind of sensation that the silver-eyed huntress couldn’t quite pinpoint yet she found herself grasping and holding onto it as desperately as she could while riding the high of the sensation.

But before Ruby could be consumed further by her own spiralling thoughts, Oscar brought her a welcomed distraction. To Ruby’s surprise, the boy’s previously confident demeanour broke. No more was he the charming prince who boldly professed his love for her.  He became an awkward teenage farm boy again. An awkward country pumpkin as Oscar let go of Ruby’s face; looking away to cover his own freckled face which was now redder than Ruby had ever seen it. “I---I'm sorry.” Oscar practically squeaked.

Ruby only waved her hands wildly; equally flustered. “No, no it's fine! It’s totally fine!” she managed to say, “I…I…I just…I just never… thought that you were---”

“ … Interested?” Oscar interrupted; peeping through his fingers curiously.

“Interested in... me?” Ruby corrected embarrassedly, “Y’know, like that.  I mean…why would you---”

“Are you kidding me? Why wouldn't I?” Oscar interjected; now uncovering his face with a look of disbelief.

The two then stared at each other for a beat before eventually; looking away; both blushing like crazy. An awkward silence fell between them with nothing but the rush of the fountain providing the perfect disruption. Until finally; after a while, Oscar cleared his throat to speak again. His tone resolute.

“Let me put it another way,” Oscar said, “to give credit where it’s due, Whitley was right about one thing. There are…other beautiful flowers. The world is full of them. My Aunt Em used to say that flowers are a part of what gives the world its beauty. It’s part of their purpose and people are no different. It’s like what I said earlier. If someone is truly important to you and means the world to you, then it wouldn't matter if there are others because that one person will always be the most special to you.

That's how I see you. When you're with your team or…even if there is a room full of other pretty girls, I'm not looking at them. I'm looking at you. You're the one I look to the most. All the time. I look to you when I'm happiest because most of the time, you’re the reason. I look to you when I feel…overwhelmed because your courage gives me strength when I need it most. I look to you for guidance because your leadership keeps us moving forward. Keeps me moving forward.

Oz once described you as someone with an unquantifiable spark that can inspire anyone even in the darkest of times and I’m grateful I’ve been blessed enough to see the truth in that. I meant what I said when I said you are an extraordinary huntress and you’re an even more amazing person.”

“You…really think that way about me?” Ruby asked.

“I’ve thought this way about you since day one,” Oscar confessed, “the day I first looked at you and since then I’ve always looked to you for many things. And the more times I did, the more I saw your beauty shine through. Please don’t sell yourself short just because one ignorant person told you differently.”

Oscar then stared off at something behind Ruby. Following his gaze, Ruby realized he was looking at a small rose bush not too far from where the two sat by the fountain. Smiling Oscar got up and walked over to the bush. Ruby watched quietly as the former farm boy plucked one of the roses off its stem. As Oscar returned, Ruby got a closer look at the small flower in his hand. At first glance, it appeared to be a yellow rose, its petals a shimmering gold in the evening light. But upon further inspection, Ruby noticed the reddened tips. It was a circus rose. At least that was the name Ruby recalled Oscar expertly telling her during one of their past conversations. Oscar twirled the rose between his fingers, caressing its flushed yellow petals.

“Yes, this world is full of many beautiful flowers. Even other lovely roses,” Oscar continued thoughtfully, “but that doesn’t matter to me because in my eyes, you’re the most beautiful one, Ruby.”

The smile on Oscar’s face widened into a grin; bright and handsome, as he held the rose out to Ruby. At first Ruby just stared blankly at the flower, unsure what to do. But when she noticed the soft look on Oscar’s face and the way the sunset just happened to make his hazel eyes shine, she felt a sudden pang in his chest.

She didn’t know how to describe this sudden feeling. It felt strange. Entirely new to her. All Ruby knew was that it was making Oscar appear differently in her eyes. Ruby couldn’t tell if it was the setting or just her active imagination the way Oscar practically glowed before her eyes. The wind kissing his face. His eyes forever locked with hers. His lips etched in a smile that sung affection. It was a sight that made Ruby’s heart thunder and her face warmer than a summer breeze.

‘What is this feeling all of sudden?’ Ruby thought as she slowly accepted the rose from Oscar; her face a perfect pretty canvas of pink.

“…W—W--Wow I...I… don’t know what to say,” Ruby said blushingly, “I mean… I should say…thank you ? No wait, I shouldn’t say thank you. I mean thank you for the rose. Just not…y’know…thank you for the other thing…you said before. I---I don't think that's what you'd want to hear, right? It's not something you say right after a guy tells you he loves----It’s definitely not something you should say.”

Oscar tilted his head in an expression that unintentionally made Ruby’s heart sing its second chorus.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Oscar said inquisitively, “If your gratitude is you being honest then nothing bad about that.”

“Yeah but… it's not what I'm supposed to say,” Ruby groaned awkwardly, “I'm supposed to say it back. I’m supposed to tell you how I feel about you.”

“Well how do you feel about me?” Oscar asked calmly.

“I… don’t know...” Ruby said unsurely. A playful grin then toyed at her lips as a mischievous thought came to mind. “I mean… if we’re being completely honest here, you are a little young for me,” Ruby commented sarcastically with an innocent shrug, “you’re also way too old for me. Then there’s the whole bit about you sharing a body with my old headmaster. A little weird but… there was that other Ozpin who had a family when Ozma was around. So I guess we wouldn’t have to worry about Ozpin interrupting us if we went on a date or something. So not entirely a deal breaker for me.”

“Ruby…”

“Hey I’m confessing here,” Ruby grumbled, sticking out her tongue childishly. She had only meant for it to be a casual joke; as a means of lightening the air between them. But instead, Oscar said this:

“I know and I’m asking you to be serious,” the farm boy remarked sincerely, “I’m not asking you how you feel about Ozpin or…Ozma. How do you feel about me?”

This took Ruby off guard and it must’ve shown on her face for Oscar’s expression softened; reflecting almost a silent need for Ruby for confirm something that he almost needed her to say. Something that seemed to almost transcend a requited love confession. Upon realizing this, Ruby felt bad for her previous conduct.

“I know I really like you,” Ruby finally admitted with a smile, “A lot actually. Sometimes a bit too much but that’s only because I care very, very much.”

“Of course, mother hen.” Oscar teased knowingly. Ruby shot him a quick unamused pout; making Oscar chuckled, but otherwise she continued her speech.

“You see that right there. You don’t get annoyed when I say crazy stuff. You’re patient. Brave. Kind. Smart. You could be a bit stubborn sometimes but that’s fine cause I’m stubborn too,” Ruby said, “you’re one of my closest friends. Sure we’ve only known each other a few months but…I feel like I’ve known you longer and I want to know you longer. I don’t want what we have to stop.”

“Ruby Rose is a companion to Oscar Pine for all of his lifetimes. That’s what you promised me, right?” Oscar said.

“I did,” Ruby reassured with a gentle smile, “and I still plan on keeping that promise no matter what because I really do like you a lot Oscar.”

“…But, you don’t love me?” Oscar interjected, expectantly.

However Ruby shook her head. “That’s the weird part. I don’t know,” she admitted, “all I know is that I really like you. But the way I like you is different. It’s not the same as how I like Weiss or Jaune or Blake or Ren or Nora or anyone else. It’s not even how I liked Whitley. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before but yet I can’t say what it is.

I’m mostly just confused . I’m not really saying yes because I don’t want to lie to you and… I’m definitely not saying thank you because even that doesn’t feel right. But…I’m not saying no either…”

“I…don’t really have an answer,” Ruby finally finished, “I'm sorry.”

To Ruby’s surprise, Oscar only offered her another kind smile; as he took her free hand in his. Even through the pair of red gloves he wore, Ruby’s skin felt like hot iron from their contact.

“Ruby, it's okay,” Oscar said understandingly, “You don’t have to give me an answer. I'm not really asking you to.”

Ruby blinked in surprise. “You're...not?”

Oscar smiled. “No,” he said sincerely, “I wanted to know how you feel about me but… that doesn’t mean I wanted to force you to answer my confession. My feelings are my own that I just wanted to share with you. Not because I expect you to return them but mostly just cause I wanted you to know how I feel about you. How I really feel about you,”

‘…While I still have a chance to say it to your face,’ Oscar added as a thought. And though his heart went blue for a brief moment, he still smiled brightly against his inner sadness. He couldn’t afford to stop smiling. Not when he was sitting in the presence of the girl her loved. For her, he would brave anything. Even his own strife.

“But…more than that,” Oscar pressed on, “I just wanted to see you smile again. Whitley’s true feelings made you cry. I was hoping mine would make you smile. I love you most when you're smiling. Your smile is one of the most beautiful things about you. I guess the only real answer I want to know is if I cheered you up.”

Now it was Ruby’s turn to smile. Despite herself, a few tears trickled down her cheek but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were from the sheer amount of happiness that swelled in Ruby’s chest for the young boy seated before her. The boys whose radiance and kind words quelled the heartache she’d once felt. Ruby felt beyond touched. “You did,” she managed to say through her soft sobbing, “You most definitely did.”

Ruby then closed the gap between her and Oscar, nudging close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Oscar.” She whispered gratefully. With a sigh of contentment, her mind and her heart were finally at ease.

Seeing the silver-eyed huntress so calm made Oscar’s own smile grow into a proud grin. Draping his arm around Ruby’s shoulder, he pulled her closer to him to allow his head to against hers. “For you. Always.” The former farm boy whispered warmly. Though his voice was soft Ruby heard his words. She felt her heart crescendo and she was appreciative that Oscar couldn’t see her face in that moment as the prominent blush that was practically burned into her face from before deepened.

“Okay...now I see it.” Ruby giggled bashfully.

“See what?” Oscar asked.

“Why everyone keeps calling you little prince,” Ruby answered, “you’re kinda like the ones from my favourite old fairy-tales.”

“The ones who save the princess?” Oscar asked.

“The ones who they fall in love with,” Ruby said, looking up at Oscar’s face as she said it. His eyes widened in surprise making Ruby looking away coyly. Seriously, if her face got any redder, she’d give her own signature cape steady competition.

“But y’know…they’re just stories.” Ruby added quickly with an awkward laugh that was louder than she intended.

Fortunately her awkwardness only appeared to amuse Oscar. “You planning on living happily ever after with me now, Ms Rose?” Oscar teased with a wink. This earned him a playful shove courtesy of Ruby. ‘Okay, when did he get this cheeky and why is it so cute?’ She thought, ‘…wait cute?’  

“I’m just saying you can be charming when you need to be, Mr. Pine,” Ruby retorted wryly.

Oscar only nudged Ruby’s shoulder; laughing.

“Y’know I should probably start calling you something like that too. I never really liked the little prince nickname. Maybe sweet prince suits you better,” Ruby remarked lightly. She had meant it as a small joke but upon seeing Oscar’s smirk; eyebrows quirked, Ruby regretted everything. Now her face and cape were a perfectly set.

“I---I---I mean…” Ruby tried to correct herself but her words failed her and instead she settled on her humiliation. “I didn't...say that out loud, did I?” she stuttered.

“Yep you did,” Oscar said chuckling lightly, “but it's alright. If it's you, I don't mind.” “And I don’t mind the new nickname either so long as I get to be just your sweet prince.” He then added boldly.

“You’re not going to let me forget that one, aren’t you?” Ruby groaned.

“Never.” Oscar chuckled.

The two friends then shared a laugh.

For a moment, Oscar met Ruby’s gaze, beaming charmingly.  Ruby returned the smile, the warmth in her cheeks returning as the two sat smiling at each other.

“So, what do we do now?” Oscar asked after some time.

“Whatever we like, I suppose,” Ruby replied casually.

“Ready to head back inside?” Oscar asked.

“ …I dunno.” Ruby said with a frown.

“What Whitley said still bugging you?” Oscar asked glumly.

Ruby nodded miserably. “A little bit.” She said.

Oscar then poked Ruby’s cheek lightly, prompting her to look at him.

“Hey. Beautiful flowers are meant to be admired by everyone, not kept in the dark,” Oscar assured, “besides what would a rich boy know about caring for flowers?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked.

“Well it's like something my Aunt Em used to say about gardening,” Oscar said wisely, “rich folk may have all the money in the world but they don’t know a darn thing about gardening. They're so used to buying that the only green they every learnt to care for is their giant bags of money. Therefore, rich folks don’t make good gardeners. That's why the Gods made farmers because farmers know how to care better for crops and flowers of all kinds.”

“Okay but… what's that have to do with me?” Ruby asked.

Oscar smirked. “Well my lovely rose, sounds like you could use a farm boy. Not a rich boy.” He said with a wink.

Ruby couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped her lips. “Seriously? You did not just say that.” She giggled.

“I made you laugh, didn’t I? That counts,” Oscar quipped with a light chuckle, “I mean we can stay out here all night if that’s what you really want or…you can let this farm boy show Whitley Schnee and all of Atlas how truly beautiful you are. What do you say to that?”

Oscar offered Ruby his hand.

“I say…”

Ruby’s gaze fell to her circus rose; still in her hand from when Oscar had given it to her earlier. With a bright grin, Ruby tucked the rose in her hair as she accepted Oscar’s hand.

She then leaned in and kissed Oscar on the cheek---a gesture which pleasantly surprised him.

“Lead the way, my sweet prince.” Ruby said.

Oscar only beamed; leading Ruby back inside as the two rosebuds re-entered the festivities together.

Squiggly Commentary:

 You can almost say that this story is a continuation; drawing reference to other scripts I’ve done before such as ‘A-Dork-You!’, ‘A Sister’s Blessing’ and ‘As You Go’. I made this story under the impression and headcanon that as their friendship grows, so does Ruby and Oscar’s overall trust in each other to the point that they are perfectly comfortable initiating physical contact with one another especially if it was meant to console the other. 

Usually Ruby is the one to always initiate contact between her and Oscar, according to the canon. My hunch is that at some point, Oscar will start reciprocating the same gentle touches Ruby would at times give him to the point that the two Rosebuds are completely at ease with committing to gestures such as cupping the other’s face, holding hands, resting their head against the other’s shoulder and breathing in the consolation that comes with their company. Y’know that sort of jazz. So that’s what I used in this story.

Sorry if this also wasn’t the kind of love confession story where feelings are reciprocated in the moment and the two lovers kiss. I wanted this short story to mostly emphasize on Oscar finally being open to Ruby about his feelings for her. Once it was brought up, Oscar had no choice but to bit the bullet and he made that choice.

For me, this is the most realistic I can envision the RoseGarden confession. At least the side where Oscar confesses first and Ruby moves forward knowing how Oscar feels about her.

Whitley is a little shit in this. Sorry to my fellow Whits. Although my feelings toward Whitley as a character have lightened a lot since V5, I based this script purely on my original RWBY Musing #24 where Whitley showcased just how much his father had influenced his behaviour particularly his treatment of women.

I even took it a step further with this concept by having Ruby being enamoured with Whit after their first encounter, believing him to be a pleasant gentlemen and love interest despite Weiss’ warnings about her brother’s true colours.

Ruby expressing genuine interest in a person she considers a crush is a side of her we have yet to explore in the main series. So for this script, I wanted to toy with the notion of what if…Ruby genuinely had feelings for Whitley and thought he felt the same way about her only to be greatly disappointed when it is later revealed that Whitley saw Ruby no different than how Jacques saw his own wife.

I’ve mentioned Whitley asking Ruby to be his date to the Atlas Ball many times over and it’s a headcanon I’m still holding onto; albeit I’ve shared different versions of this hunch. I’ve mostly talked about Ruby only agreeing to be Whitley’s date as a favour to Weiss to help with her investigation into her family affairs.

This is the first instance where I’ve actually entertained the thought of Ruby going to the dance with Whitley because she actually liked him. As you could probably tell by some of my past musings and headcanons, seeing Ruby behave like an average teenaged girl, gushing over boys especially one she might have a crush on is something I think would be cute to see.

I’m probably the cheese that stands alone with this thought but if I may further entertain this theory, imagine Ruby being the type of romantic who falls hard whenever she develops an interest in someone. She already does so much for her family and friends. Can you imagine a hopelessly in love Ruby Rose? I can picture that just as vividly as I can depict a close Rosegardening rosebud friendship and potential romance.

I can definitely see Ruby being the type of girl to gush over someone she likes to her friends. So imagine how it would be for Oscar, being the guy who secretly likes Ruby, to also be the close friend she feels comfortable enough talking about her crush to. I figured Ruby would talk to Oscar about this kind of stuff because unlike her sister and teammates, she wouldn’t be judged or teased about it especially if her crush was Whitley (which Weiss greatly disapproves of for obvious reasons).

This script is a culmination of theories that I wanted to touch base on and it basically spawned into a story that I’m proud of. I know I say that almost most of my writing but it’s hard to not feel giddy when you put a theory to paper and turn it into a story. If I had to picture how Oscar would first confess his feelings for Ruby and her reaction to hearing it, this would be it.

It’s not the typical confession moment nor is it the traditional unrequited love moment idea. I genuinely think if Oscar were to confess to Ruby, he would outwardly admit he loves her. Just tell that he wants to be the guy that gets to fall in love with her. Just as much as I wouldn’t expect Ruby to refuse Oscar’s feelings. In a way she would accept them. Just not have an answer for him. But she wouldn’t keep him waiting either. Just as how Oscar wouldn’t hold it to her to give him an answer because that’s not what’s most important.

This plays into another ancient RoseGarden headcanon I have where Oscar would confess and the two will move forward knowing how Oscar truly feels about Ruby but it wouldn’t affect their friendship as awkwardly. But it would provide an opening for Ruby to ponder on how she feels for Oscar. She understands he’s not holding her to return his love. However at the same time, there is that curious side of Ruby that wonders what it would be like if she were to fall in love with Oscar. Could she see herself doing that? And if she did, how would it affect her? How it would affect their entire relationship? Their friendship. Would she even wish to return those feelings knowing the truth of the Merge and the lingering mystery of the fate that spells for Oscar?

This is why I like this concept a lot. It lays everything out on the table while leaving room for more growth and opportunities to explore bonds and the meanings behind them. I’m not saying this is how I perfectly envision the Rosegarden romance taking root in the canon. I’m just saying it’s an idea.

All in all, I hope you guys have enjoyed this short story of mine and if you can, please let me know if you did enjoy it. I’d mighty appreciate it if you do.

Not sure if this counts as a worthy contribution to @rwbyrosegardenweek​ but I hope it does :D 

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[itsakpopalypse]

Sit Boy :Meetings

Han Sanghyuk/ Reader

fluff, general hijinks, no warnings. this is all set up.

First in a oneshot/ drabble series

After being given a guardian demon at birth instead of an angel, Y/N struggles to not feel cursed. One day, she is left with a new protector, and honestly. he has a habit of getting under her skin.

You were cursed. Your very existence was an insult.  You felt that way for as long as you could remember,  but especially after your long standing imaginary friend told you what he truly was… a guardian demon.  

As silly as it may seem, all people had a guardian angel. You,  however, due to some heavenly clerical  error, had a demon instead.  He was…. Honestly not all bad. Just pretty flippant.  He didn't  cause trouble, or torture  or hurt you…. Or even try to make you give up your soul (not his business, souls, he insisted) just kept you out of the biggest dangers and told really stupid jokes.  More than anything,  he was like a really awkward dad who no one else could see.  He DID help you prank some bullies with a ouija  board once,  that was pretty cool.  

Kael'eth stood before you,  his normal relaxed posture,  shrugging.  "Sorry little one. I'm getting reassigned. "

"How? Aren't you bound to me until I die?"

He patted your head gently,  yellow glint in his eyes.  "Well…. I was never supposed to be what I am,  and I guess the Big Guy wouldn't overlook it anymore.  I have a task now.  But listen.  I couldn't leave you without some protection. So I've brought a friend." 

When you began to pout he put a finger on your forehead and grumbled.  "Don't. Pout. I have a reputation." 

"What we have is FINE. I'm already cursed enough  I don't want anything else." You grumbled like a kid, even though you were well into adulthood.  You plopped on your couch and threw your feet up, looking at him expectantly. "So?"

"A. Hellhound. He's… well. You'll see." When the poof and (quite common) sulfur smell filled your apartment sat a black dog. It was huge. So long that you estimated if it stood on rear legs it would double you in height.  "Hyuk, what the home, dude. We talked about this." 

Another  poof, and the black  dog was a tall man. He had sharp, deep red eyes and  an incredibly straight brow, a wide nose and a very square jaw. His hair was pushed back, slicked tight on the sides and he sported a dark, well fitted suit.

He was…. Impressive to look at, you noticed immediately.  

"Fine. Whatever. Bipedal is dumb though, just for the record. "  he said to Kael'eth. "Watch over the girl. I got you.  Piece of cake. Get out of here." He scrunched his nose up playfully and waved the other man away, you realized his very impressive and foreboding aura had evaporated and he seemed…. Kind of fun?

Kael’eth patted your head once more, and eyed Hyuk pointedly. “Take care of her. Do your job.” he looked back down at you and gave you an almost worried glance. “Don’t take any SHIT from this one okay? You spoil him and he will never listen.”  

“Got it. Will I see you around?” 

“We’ll see kiddo. Go raise some hell, eh?”

You laughed as he poofed out, leaving you alone with the very tall and almost imposing figure who was now towering over you, small smirk on his face. You stood, reaching out a hand to shake his in greeting. “So I’m Y/N.” 

His eyes traveled up and down you for a moment, eyebrow cocked. “Yeah, you are. You have any video games?” He asked while flopping his large frame over your couch, sprawled out with limbs askew so there was no room for you. 

“I... I mean. I don’t really have anything? Can’t you .. use your… poof...powers?” You put a hand on your hip, kind of unprepared for this entire situation, and for his attitude.

He gave you a big, disarming smile, reaching out for your hand from his spot. He snagged it, tugging you with impressive strength towards him. “But I can’t do that. I’m not a demon. I’m a hellhound. It’s different.”  He pouted but mischief played in his eyes and you were for a moment- almost- distracted by the cuteness of it all. “I don’t..” Another tug, dragging you to your knees until your noses almost bumped. “Poof.”  He said the word softly, making sure to pout his lips on the ‘f’ , hand engulfing yours. His eyes appeared a bit rounder, still the same devilish red, but more imploring.

You fought the confused cycle of irritation and attraction, pulling back just enough to regain your thoughts.

“You have a lot of nerve, but I’ll consider it.”  

You were rewarded but the biggest smile you had ever seen in your life, it took up most of his face and it was… if you were being honest, quite endearing. 

You stood and forced some space between yourself and the alarmingly attractive man sprawled out on your sofa.

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice was inquiring, so you met his eyes once more. “I think we are both going to have a lot of fun, here.” 

You were not having fun. Hyuk had eaten half the contents of your refrigerator, and played games non stop. He wasn’t really underfoot, otherwise, but he had a knack for getting under your skin.

Right now, you were considering it, but had not decided if it would impact him at all in his current far too hyper state. He was, in fact, sitting at the edge of your bed bouncing, which at his considerable size, made you nearly fly off once or twice. 

That alone, would not earn  your ire, after decades of being tied to a demon, some level of patience was necessary. This however, was  your only day off, and it was 6 am. 

“Y/n. Y/n. COME ON. I need to get out of here. I am hungry, and my legs are restless.” He was whining, now, and flopped back, landing with his face beside yours and his far too adorable pout on his lips. Too cute for how irritated  you were.

“Y/N pleeeaaase. I promise not to hide your socks anymore. Please?”

You pried your eyelids open just enough to see him more clearly. He was expectant, full of life, and once again, you decided firmly, that you must be cursed. Even as much as you wanted to, you could not hate the excitable hellhound when he pouted. Or smiled. Or generally when he wasn’t causing mischief. Even then, sometimes. 

After throwing on your most comfortable sweats, you followed him to the car. 

“Buckle up.” You insisted.  His head rolled on his neck, turning to you with almost amusement. 

“I can’t get hurt that easy, Y/N. I am made of more durable stuff.”

“That’s fine. And that durable stuff is going to be planted directly behind a seatbelt before we start moving, Sanghyuk, no negotiations.”

His upper lip curled in annoyance but he did as told.

Once you began your travels, he would softly sing to the radio, a sound you rather liked, and when you put down the window, you were only mildly surprised when he stuck half his head out of it.

“Get back in here, Hyuk.” Your tone was one that brook no argument, but when he turned to pout you relented. “Just… For now. When we go to the park you can do it for a while I guess.”

His sly smile indicated he knew what he was doing, but you had already given your word. You pulled into the drive through for some fast food so that you could help with his restless legs.

“So are you just going to… I don’t know. Go full dog and run?” You asked between bites of chicken, flipping on your blinker as you were preparing for the turn. 

His fingertips drummed on the windowsill for a moment before he answered. “Yeah. Full dog.” 

This time, the smile wasn’t in his voice. You wondered briefly why, but kept your eyes ahead for safety’s sake. Turns out, in the week you’d lived together, you had learned that hellhounds could bring bad luck so… somethings are just better not left to chance. 

“Alright.”

“Hyuk what do you think?” You came out of your room in your date outfit, a simple black skirt and blue blouse, low black booties adorning your feet. You kept it simple, since it was a blind date. 

You had now lived together for 2 months, and you were used to Hyuk’s enthusiastic behavior. This however, was not that. He looked you up and down, before turning back to some anime on the television. “It’s fine. You don’t need to get all dolled up anyway.” He was totally and completely non reactive. It was… abnormal to say the least. 

You sat beside him, settling a hand onto the top of his thigh to draw his eyes back to you. It worked, but his face was dark, and his eyes flashed brighter for a moment. “I didn’t, it’s just coffee. I asked you because you usually have good insight.” 

Sure, it was a half truth, but stroking his ego usually brought him around. He laced your fingers in his and opened his mouth to speak, when your doorbell rang, effectively silencing his thoughts. 

You hopped up and gestured for him to make himself a dog, or scarce, or both. He glared, but he went into your bedroom and left the door cracked. You heard rather than saw his transformation.  Glamour allowed his dog to look smaller than he actually was, while maintaining mass. So you had a doberman now that looked about average but weighed more than a grown man. When he nosed out of your room, you went to get the door. 

After ushering in your date, you told him to have a seat while you grabbed your purse, but when you came back, he was at the door, looking quite pale. “I’ve just remembered this isn’t going to work out I-I’ve got to uh, water my aunts flowers. In the country. I won’t be back.” He stuttered and stumbled his way out of your home, and you knew the culprit wasn’t far. Hyuk sat with his ears back, mirroring his earlier bad mood. 

“What did you do??”

“Nothing. I just. Suggested he find somewhere else to be.”  Hyuk whined, turning back into the form you were more used to, now go get out of those. Get in those sweatpants and come cuddle and watch tv.” 

You glared, pointing a finger up at him, and he matched your glare. “Why?”

“I saw what he wanted, and I didn’t like it.” He responded, looking away while clearing his throat. 

“You’re not a demon, you can’t read thoughts.” You said. Throwing back his own reasons for never doing things that benefited you.  When he looked back at you, his eyes looked intimidating for the first time since your first meeting. His face icy and hardened. 

“I saw it in his eyes. That’s enough.” His jaw flexed as his lips pursed, and he used the moment you were taking to process his words to leave the room entirely. Going into the one across the hall his bed was in. 

You weren’t sure why he was acting so territorial. Maybe he was really leaning into his roll as guardian? 

You were unsure, but for the moment, it was best to let the subject rest. 

Instead you went to the convenience store and purchased two pints of ice cream, and beconed him once you were in your normal tv watching clothes. He peeked out fo his room, muzzle first, before slinking out and into the space beside you. “No ice cream? You really must not be feeling well.”

 After putting it away, he crawled almost entirely into your lap as you scratched his ears, hoping to calm whatever fears he was feeling. It seemed to work, and  you were rewarded when his eyes drifted shut and his body relaxed. 

Conversations could come soon, for now, he deserved it.

[artistic-writer]

Between Now and Nether :: Ch 8 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer  [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8]

A/N: Now.  This chapter may shock you.  Twice.  Just when you are getting over the revelation i am about to drop on you, i hit you again, with another shocker.  I seriously thought @kmomof4 was going to have a heart attack when she beta’d this chapter lol  So i hope you like it as much.

Thos looking for it on AO3 will not find it until i am home.  Sorry guys, but i wanted to queue this post for you so you could at least read it whilst I was busy working my ass off! XD

Enjoy your second helping!

Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)

Huge thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @rouhn  and @wordsmith-storyweaver for your advice and suggestions.  This fic would just be so much worse without you guys! <3

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @resident-of-storybrooke @hookedonapirate  @kmomof4 @galadriel26 @yellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @the-captains-ayebrows  @yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @takhisismb @officerrogerss  @kiwistreetswan @distant-rose  @aye-captn @wellhellotragic  @depechemode75

If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 9!

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There were very few things as satisfying as hearing confirmation of a deed well done.  For far too long, the name ‘Jones’ had given him a deep-seated hatred for all things cop.  Well, being the head of an international crime syndicate was more than enough reason to hate cops, but luckily for him, a deal had been brokered and it was done.

When Jones had relocated to the states and become a cop, he had been on him almost instantly.  It started out small, tit for tat, arresting a few of his men here and there and making his presence known.  Gold knew he was watching him, Jones had even gone as far as to tell him face to face in a very public restaurant, and at first, Gold had found it endearing.  He knew he was untouchable.  He hadn’t built a crime empire because he had been put off by one cop.

Over the years, Jones became a problem.  More than a few of his good men were now in prison, and for their silence and discretion, Gold paid them by taking care of their families on the outside.  It was becoming increasingly more costly to take care of old employees and hire new ones.  And good guys didn’t come cheap, their skills tailoring to one specialty that meant he would have to hire multiple men for a single job.  Gold missed the days gangsters and thieves had their fingers in many, many pies.

And then there were the dirty cops he kept on the books, just as expensive as the next drug runner or hitman.  They helped him out of many predicaments, simply sweeping his deeds under the carpet where they were lost in cold cases.  For years, Gold managed to grow, expanding his reach across America, selling drugs, weapons, people, whatever he could to make a profit.  Mr. Gold was his real name and he lived up to his wealth every single day, appearing only dressed in fine, fitted suits, always cleanly shaven and never without his cane.  It was expensive, one of a kind and custom made, and despite the fact he had zero need for it, Gold always liked to use it to give the impression of weakness.

If your enemy underestimated your strength, it made it easier to overthrow them.

But then, the young rookie with a hero complex named Jones appeared in his life and Gold began to notice a change.  His men began to shy away from his orders, questioning his motives because they were seemingly afraid of this Jones character.  It irritated Gold, so naturally, he had tried to buy the cop off.  Jones declined his offer and with some choice words, the pair began their conflict.

It continued for years and he watched the rookie grow into a detective, given more power with his new job title and more access to dig into Gold’s life.  Jones made it his personal mission to bring Gold down, using every single free moment he had to find ways to mess with him.  

Jones had once said something about killing his parents, believing Gold responsible for the night they were gunned down in an alleyway and stripped of their valuables.  Gold didn’t remember everyone he had murdered when he was starting his empire, especially two nobodies who were probably just a means to an end, so with a sideways smirk and a dead-eye stare, Gold had told him he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger and had Jones escorted from his office.

Finally, Gold had endured enough and wanted Jones gone.  The man couldn’t be bought.  He was a very large thorn in Gold’s side and on top of all of his agitation, Gold had to spend even more money to take him out.

Killing a cop didn’t come cheap.

The office Gold frequented was always dark and cold.  Dust covered every surface and the lights were dimmed all along the hallway.  Gold had no heavies guarding him, his office at the very back of the shop Gold kept as a money laundering front.  It was inconspicuous, a simple antique store from the outside, selling many high priced items that covered part of his underhanded business earnings, and Gold had settled here to be alone.  People always called him The Dark One and it was starting to become clear as to why.  

The door loomed at the end of the hall, one single light hanging over the door frame and shining a spot of subdued orange onto the floor.  It was a mark, the last circle of light in the darkness.  And it was petrifying.

The door opened and Gold stood with a steady grin spread across his face.

“Detective,” he greeted, motioning into the blackened room behind him.

“Gold.”  With a nod, the detective squeezed past Gold, entering the darkened room that instantly felt even colder than the hall.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Gold pushed the door closed behind them, unable to stop the sly smile on his face.  He took a step into the room, leaning on his cane resting in front of him.

“It’s done,” the detective said quickly, looking at his feet and scratching at the scruff on his chin before pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Straight to the point, detective.  I like it,” Gold grinned, enjoying the way he could hear the detective’s heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.  It’s done.”

“Is it now?”  Gold licked his lips, his sinister voice hanging thick in the air.

“I saw the body myself.”

“That was part of the deal,” Gold smirked, watching the detective squirm under his gaze.

“You bastard! He was my colleague, a fellow detective,” the raised tone of his voice cracked under his emotion.

In a flash, Gold was at his side, cane digging into the top of his foot through his boot and a strangled cry tumbling from his mouth.  “You should have thought of that before you joined him in his crusade,” Gold spat.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“Uh Uh Uh,” Gold chimed, removing his cane from the detective's foot and grabbing the man by the face, his nail digging into his chubby cheeks.  Gold didn’t have to say anything else.  The detective was silenced immediately and Gold loosened his grip, giving him a playful slap on the face.

“Jones was a good man, a good detective…”

“Jones was hell-bent on ruining me,” Gold growled, banging his cane on the floor with an echo.  “Nobody will know it was you,” Gold assured the sweating detective.  “You’ll get a new partner and everything will blow over when this turns into a cold case.”

“Why me?  I have a family,” he implored.

“We all have our price,” Gold grinned, turning away.  “Yours just happens to be a lot lower than I had expected.”

“So our deal is done now?  Is my debt cleared?”

Gold laughed, a sadistic rumble in the back of his throat and he shook his head.  “I want one more thing,” Gold smiled wickedly, pressing a long, bony finger to his lips and stepping towards the shorter man once more.  When he gave him a questioning look, Gold bared his teeth.  “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say it.  Out loud.  I want to revel in the joy of the words as they fall from your mouth,” Gold twirled his hand in the air beside his head and spun on his heels, his dramatics bordering on joyously evil.

“I…”

“Yes, that’s it, go on,” Gold whispered darkly.

“I...I killed Liam Jones.”

An impish giggle escaped Gold’s lips and he slapped the detective on the shoulder proudly,  licked his lips and looked over at the shaking detective.  God, he loved breaking people.  “There, there, Leroy,” he said in a sickly sweet tone that made Leroy’s skin crawl.  “Now we are even.”

It was not long after the older Jones had met his demise when the younger Jones began snooping around, digging into his brother’s case files, connecting the dots.  Gold had a muscle in his jaw that he hadn’t flexed since the day Liam Jones had been gunned down by an ‘unknown assailant’.  He had learned to relax it, keep his anger at bay and focus on the more intricate sides of his business.  Until now.

Killian Jones was more tenacious, a little smarter and not as hot-headed as the older Jones.  It made him a more dangerous adversary, one that Gold could not give an inch.  Where Liam was a bull, rushing in and aggressively threatening Gold with what little power he actually did have, Killian was a fox, picking off Gold’s men one by one like chickens in a hen house.

If he didn’t stop the younger Jones soon, he could become a real credible threat to the Gold empire.

“They attend the Nolan Charity Gala every year,” his henchman grunted, handing Gold a photo of Killian Jones exiting his home in a fine tuxedo suit and his pretty girlfriend on his arm.  “They have to attend,” he tapped the picture when Gold rested it on the desk.  “This is Emma Swan.”

“The wife?” Gold looked up at him.

“She wishes,” he scoffed.  “Her brother is David Nolan.”

“Interesting,” Gold looked back to the photo.  “And you can make this look like an accident?”

The man, Hyde, nodded confidently.  “Absolutely.  I have the perfect guy.  He owes me.”

Gold’s face lit up at the prospect of a deal.  “You have a negotiation?”

“We will have,” Hyde shrugged.  “Jefferson has a very low price.”

The impish giggle that Gold was so known for escaped through his gleaming grin.  “The Gala is Friday night,” Gold said seriously, losing his smile and sliding the photo back across the table.  “Make sure he does not make it.”

“Of course, Mr. Gold.  Consider Killian Jones a dead man.”