#i promise you that the five year old is not manipulating your emotions and trying to make your life hell personally

[variety-fangirl]

Neighbours / Moon Boys x fem!reader

Summary: you're the new neighbour, looking for a change of scenery and people, a fresh start. Your neighbour, Steven, is someone you find yourself trusting easily and quickly. Something about you both draws the other in, enticing each other to explore what this could mean. Yet, you have a secret about why you moved, will you feel comfortable enough to open up to him?

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS angst but mostly fluffy, mentions of previous toxic and abusive relationship (beginning of physical abuse, manipulation, and emotional abuse), swearing, let me know if I missed anything! Will add more later as the story progresses.

Author's note: Hello! I am back with something quick and lovely that I have been working on for a while. It feels good to get slowly back in to writing �� College really had taken so much out of me and my joy for writing when all I was doing for 10 months straight was writing long essays, it was also nice to take these months to relax and come to terms with everything. So much has been happening 😮‍💨 But I hope I will be back more consistently now, fingers crossed! I've been mostly writing to get new and fun ideas, hoping it would entice and inspire me to write. I hope you guys enjoy anyways and feel free to ignore my rant 😅 Feedback, comments, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated and lets me know how I'm doing. Thank you for reading and enjoy my loves 💜

Word count: 1.9k

You huff as you place another box on the floor of your new apartment, watching the movers bring in two more. You felt thankful that you had decided to pay extra for the movers to help you bring all your belongings up, far too much to have done on your own.

There were endless stairs, and it would have taken you hours to bring it all up here yourself, especially with your new sofa, bed, and dining room set. All were bought cheaply from a friend second-hand who was more than happy to help you. She was one of the only ones you'd told where you were going, and had left your address and new number with to contact you. Everything new and different, nothing to remind you of the old life that you'd left behind.

You started unpacking the basics whilst they brought the rest up, there were still quite a few boxes because you had to buy most stuff brand new. Luckily you had hidden as much money as possible before leaving, so you had more than enough to buy what you needed. You would work on buying extras and niceties when you had spare money throughout, you'd moved far enough that you were hoping not to have to move again unless you wanted to in the future.

That was at least the hope. Not because you were forced to leave in the middle of the night terrified for your life.

You try to take a deep breath as you subconsciously rub at the scar on your neck, you are safe now. You wanted to distract yourself for as long as possible, so you sorted the boxes out where they needed to go, to their newly allocated rooms.

It would be weird to live on your own again after so long, it had been five years since you'd run away from home and four since you'd started dating and moved in with your now ex, Noah. It was a scary thought once more, to be alone. More alone now than you'd been before, at least you had your best friend, Natalie, at home. Now, she lives four hours away from your new place in London.

You made her promise to conceal your number and hide your address, you knew he'd go to her first to ask where you'd gone. She would lie, she'd always been good at it but he wasn't stupid. He knew you would have told her, you just prayed he wouldn't hurt her. You could never forgive yourself if she got hurt because of you.

She was one of the only people who meant anything to you in this world. She at least had her boyfriend, Tyler, who was like a brother to you. He would protect her, he always hated Noah for how he treated you. Tyler had hated Noah from the moment he met him, made you known of it also but you just chalked it up to a bad first impression and yet it never improved no matter how much time they spent together. It wasn't until three years in that Noah showed his true colours and by that point, it was too late. You were in deep and he was a master manipulator and narcissist, he'd played you well. He almost came between you and Nat but she wouldn't allow it, tried to make you see him for who he really was. It didn't take much convincing when the major problems started in the last year of your relationship together.

The first time he'd hit you was a year before you left him, he apologised and said he was drunk. The typical excuse and blame on anything but himself. Promised he "won't do it again", two months go by and it happens again but this time more frequently. He drank more, went out frequently, and came back later. By the six-month mark, you caught him cheating for the first time (that you knew of).

That was the moment you vowed to leave him, it was as if all the years of manipulation and abuse faded away and you came to your senses. You had to save enough though to leave, so you let Nat and Tyler know of your plans and they helped you to set everything up. It took you six months of planning and saving, and you were finally ready.

The night finally came, you waited and told him before he had a drink, that you were leaving him. He started out crying, begging you not to leave him, you didn't budge. He tried to initiate sex, but you said no and he didn't like that. That night was the worst abuse you had endured the whole of your relationship combined. He threatened you, managed to get you down on the living room floor with a knife in hand, and held it to your neck to the point of blood drawn. You sobbed, pleaded with him, said just about anything to get him to calm down. You would still leave but you would say anything to get him off you. He began slowly slicing your neck open whilst screaming that he loved you, only luckily managing to get an inch before you kicked him in the balls hard enough that he collapsed just to the side of you.

You ran to the bathroom and locked the door, terrified out of your mind. You grabbed the first aid kit to clean and patch up the gash on your neck. Having done this a few times when he threw stuff at you or pushed you into surfaces sharp enough to cut skin. You had a few scars all over your body, it wasn't pretty but you wore them proudly to signify that you were a survivor. He tried to bash down the door before leaving, yelling about going to the bar and he would 'see to you later'. You knew that would be your only open window to leave, he would be at least two hours there. You immediately called your best friend, she and Tyler came over to help you in any way they could.

You packed two suitcases of clothes and shoes, a duffel bag of prized possessions and important bits, a backpack of money and goods to sell, and quickly changed from your bloody clothes into something clean but comfortable. You grabbed the first aid kit too for your neck. Everything was packed into your car in less than an hour, saving you enough time to wipe anything important and any trace of you behind, away. You immediately booked a two-day stay at a cheap hotel an hour away on Natalie's computer for the night so you could figure out your next move. He would come looking for you the second that he realised your stuff was gone and that terrified you, he was not a man who gave up on things he wanted.

It had taken you two months to find this apartment after a lot of rejections and failed apartment searches. It had immediately caught your eye when you saw the ad for it on one of the apartment renting sites. It was perfect for your situation. Multiple floors of tenants would make it far harder to search through unless you knew which floor to look at so you could blend among your new neighbours. A locked front door that had a security number code to be allowed entry and without it you couldn't enter. Security cameras on each floor show all angles of the apartments, which each tenant has access to for their safety and peace of mind through an app you can download on your phone.

You had downloaded and gained access before you'd started moving the boxes in. You were given access a week beforehand, which helped your anxiety and tight chest to ease just an inch. You knew it would take some time for you to feel safe and be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder every five minutes or keep your taser on hand in your pocket with your fingers gripping it just in case. You were constantly worried and paranoid that he was watching you from around the corner like he would pop out at any moment and drag you "home".

The police had never given a fuck about you or your situation, Noah's family has money and connections, so it was always swept under the rug. Just another number, another person to suffer in silence, until one day your dead body would have turned up. They would just pretend they didn't know. A murder gone wrong, you imagine they would chalk it up to.

You take a few calming breaths whilst unpacking, listening to the footsteps and quiet chatter from the moving company men. It eased the anxiety when someone was around, it helped you to feel safer and calmer. As if, if someone was with you or near you, you could be protected from the 'big bad wolf'. You were hoping to become friendly with some or all of the neighbours on your floor, not just for safety in case something happens but also because you'd never been allowed to make new friends with your old neighbours. Noah had made sure of that.

So, you were hoping that this move would be the perfect opportunity for you to do so. You loved to bake cakes and savoury treats but hadn't been able to with Noah because he always ruined things you loved, but now he was gone you could finally pick it back up again. You were planning to bake something sweet as a gesture to introduce yourself to your neighbours, hoping it would make a good first impression.

You walked back into the open apartment that was now your own little safe haven and smiled with contentment, this was the start of a happy new beginning for you. No more fearing what mood Noah would be in that day when he woke up, no more being abused daily, no more sobbing silently into your pillow or taking an emotionally broken moment of peace to cry out your feelings in the shower after he'd hit you. Just you, your new clean apartment, and the ability to do as you please without fear.

It didn't take the movers long to bring the remainder of your boxes up between the three of them. They took off just moments ago, and now you were finally alone. It felt strange, not hearing shouting or items smashing. Just pure blissful silence in your home. Your own place to do with as you please. It felt wonderful to have freedom.

You felt tears cloud your vision as you stared out the window you'd opened when you first stepped inside the apartment, feeling the warm Summer air blow in. The overwhelming emotions of freedom and serenity hit you like a punch to the gut, a sob immediately pulled from you as you sank to the ground. You felt the year-long toll of abuse and terror that had been weighing down your shoulders finally crumble and release you while the sun flowed into the room. You fought the battle and came out victoriously on top for the first time in your life and it felt amazing.

Once the sobs quieted down and the tears had stopped, you took a moment for yourself. You opened a bottle of your favourite wine and picked up an empty glass to pour yourself a drink. You took the bottle with you as you sat back down on the floor in front of the open window, feeling the warm breeze kiss your skin gently and watched the sun in peace. It was still early in the day, you would have plenty of time to unpack later on. But for now, you just want to relax without worry for the first time in a long time.

[nomimits7]

~ Happy ~ | 8 Final chapter

No offense to you, don't waste your time

Title: Happy

Pairing: Yoongi x OT6

Warnings: Manipulation. Gaslighting. Violence? Guns. rich people have no laws. It's kind of noncon, but not that sexual? Panic attack! If I missed something, let me know. TALK ABOUT KILLING A CHILD. SUICIDE IS MENTIONED AS WELL!!!!!!

Summary: In a world where Auras can be seen, Yoongi lives a peaceful life as a broke, young adult. He attends Uni just so he can get into an internship to escape his current life. What he doesn't know is that six others are looking for him. They want him. They need him and they will have him. Forming a rainbow would give them all the power they could dream of.

“Be good my little clover. Mommy and Daddy will be back as soon as we can. We just need to get the last groceries for my little big man's birthday!” 

“Momma, Can I come too? I wanna help. Yooni can help” five-year-old Yoongi said as he watched his parents get ready to leave. They weren’t a big family, but they were happy. His birthday was in two day and that meant his Aura color would be revealed. They were planning a small party to celebrate, most people kept Aura's birthdays private, incase the color turned out to be green or Indigo. That would mean instant death to the child, but his parents weren’t that worried. They were both(?) blue so they had no doubt he would be too. 

“Oh baby, you know you can’t leave the house. We’ll be quick, I promise. Why don’t you go and build a nice blanket ford for us to nap in later? Make it really special. Mommy would even let you use all the blankets you can find!” His mother said as she kissed his hair. 

Little Yoongi nodded as he ran off to his room, missing the worried glances his parents shared before they left. 

***

“You promised you would protect him if this happened! How could you even suggest calling them to ‘take care’ of him? He’s just a child! YOUR child!” Yoongi’s mother screamed as her husband paced back and forth. 

“He’s GREEN! Fucking green. We’re both blue! What else do you want me to do? If they find out we kept his color a secret they’ll kill us too! We can try again later, but I am not dying for a fucking green aura. Even if he shares my blood!” He screamed back. Yoongi’s mother stared wide-eyed as he husband fell silent. He looked just as stunned as she did with the words he spoke. 

Yoongi was silently crying on the couch as his parents screamed at each other. He wasn’t sure why they were so upset. He liked green. His favorite toys were green and the color around him made him happy. He couldn’t understand why his parents didn’t like it. He’s been a good boy. He built the blanket ford, they all slept together and then suddenly they started screaming at each other as soon as they woke up. 

“Papa, Yooni sorry” He whispered out gaining the attention of both his parents. He couldn’t understand the emotions in their eyes, he just knew they were angry at something he did. He loved them and he just wanted the screaming to stop. 

“My life would have been so much better without a disappointment like you, Yoongi. You really managed to break my heart” Yoongi’s father said as he turned to walk away. His mother could only gape at her husband as he made his way into their bedroom. She soon followed, closing the door as the shouting continued. 

Yoongi sat on the couch for a little while, trying to understand what his father meant before he decided to just go to his room. He was tired. His birthday was ruined and his father was mad at him. He had no idea why, or how he would fix it. 

***

The funeral was quick. Not that many people came to pay their respects to Yoongi’s father. He was a good man, but he didn’t have a lot of friends or family other than Yoongi and his mother. Some of his co-workers gave his mother some words of encouragement, but that’s all it was. Words. Not many wanted to be seen at the funeral of an alleged suicide. In a world filled with colors that represent power, no one would want to associate with someone weak enough to take their own life. Even if their aura was supposed to have given them a higher status in the eyes of society. 

“Remember this Yoongi. People will always say a lot of words that end up meaning nothing at all. They only care about what impact your color and association can have on their own status. People are disappointments. Even the ones you love most can turn their backs on you when you need them the most” His mother told him as they made their way back home. They had to finish packing. His mother had decided they needed to move as soon as they could after his father died. Something about not being able to stand the sight of the same house he took his last breath in. 

“Come, Mommy will take care of you. I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me. Not as long as I am breathing” 

***

“Mom, please let me help. I can control my color now. Those people are going to work you to death. Please!” a fifteen-year-old Yoongi begged his mother as he watched her tiredly get ready for another shift at the grocery store. Life has not been easy for them in recent years. It was like someone was actively trying to make their lives hard. His mother could barely hold onto a job for more than a few months before they would fire her for no good reason. Which in itself was unheard of for a blue aura. 

She tried her very best to keep him in school. She always said he would make their lives better once he got his education. But she was stubborn. She refused to let him work. She said it wasn’t safe and that the so called ‘wolves’ of the night are just waiting to snatch him up and take him away forever. 

“Yoongi…” She sighed as she looked at her son. He was growing up well. He has mastered reflecting a few years ago, but she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. Her last fight with her late husband still haunted her.

‘I’m not dying for a green, either you call the extractors or I will’  “You are weak! He is your son. He has your blood”  “How do I know he isn’t some other man's mistake? How can two blues make a green?”  “What are you saying? I would never… Do you truly think I could do that to you?” “What else am I supposed to think? I married you out of pity and look what I gained from it!” “What? Did you not love me? Please… tell me at least a part of it was real… TELL ME!”  “How could it have been? You have nothing I could ever desire” 

“Please Mom, I can get something remote. Maybe like editing or something, please just let me help” Yoongi nearly begged. His eyes held nothing but love and desperation, his mother never stood a chance against those eyes. She would kill to keep him safe. She has killed to keep him safe, but she knew he was getting older and she would have to give him some freedom or he would leave her one day. She couldn’t let that happen, so she reluctantly nodded her head as she got ready to leave. 

“Okay, but as long as it’s remote and you don’t have to show your face. Only I can see that precious cheeks of yours” She said as she left with a heavy heart. Something felt off, but she brushed it off. Whatever it could be, she would handle it. She always did. 

***

“You put him down? Why?” Taehyung asked as soon as he entered the office. Namjoon was working at his desk with a sleeping Yoongi on his lap. It was cute to see the smaller sleep away on such an intimidating man like Namjoon. It almost made Namjoon look approachable. Almost. Their aura colors look almost black as they mix together. It was funny, people who could reflect others' colors never seemed to have learned how to do it when they sleep. That could be very dangerous, especially for someone like Yoongi. 

“He was having a temper tantrum about not meeting other people. He wants to leave the house and talk to others. I might have also said something about us being the reason his past was so fucked, but that’s not important now” Namjoon casually said as he kept his eyes on his screen. He was going over some of the things Yoongi has been working on. The kid was good. Their little genius indeed. Namjoon didn’t need to change anything on any of the songs Yoongi has been working on. Which says a lot considering the imbeciles he has working for him as so-called ‘professional producers’. 

“I’m sorry, did you just imply that you spilled the exact secret we all swore we would take to our graves? My my, you’re losing your touch. Is he making you soft? Has the big bad Indigo fallen for a little green clover? Wait until I tell Seokjin, he owes me money now” Taehyung said as he escaped into the hallway before Namjoon could utter another word. 

It took exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds for Seokjin to burst into Namjoon's office. You would expect all the dramatics and sounds the older one was making to wake Yoongi up, but he merely snuggled closer to Namjoon before continuing to sleep. This boy was going to make them all soft and Namjoon didn’t exactly mind that he was the first to fall for it. The quicker they show him some sort of affection, the better their plan will work. Then they won’t need to force the little green into anything. 

“You imbecile! Why would you tell him that we killed his mother and poisoned the people around him to distance themselves from him? He doesn’t have to know we made his life a living hell just to have him vulnerable in our hands to complete the fucking rainbow!” Seokjin all but bellowed out as soon as he entered the office. It took him a few seconds to recognise the lump on Namjoon's lap, which effectively cut his rambling off. 

“I didn’t, you just did. Luckily for you, he’s sleeping nice and deeply, so he didn’t hear any of that. I swear if you wake him up I will skin you alive! The boy went down within seconds. He’s not sleeping enough and I would appreciate it if he would get the rest he clearly needs. He was the one who came in here and started spewing nonsense about wanting to talk to other people. I just reacted” Namjoon said matter of factly.

“Oh, well… Okay then,” Seokjin said looking around the room to avoid Namjoon’s eyes. He had a faint blush on his cheeks. Seokjin decided to just sit down on one of the couches to try and escape the slight embarrassment he was feeling. 

“He’s where he’s supposed to be. We possess the power to keep him here. We’ll just have to alter his choices a little, but that can wait until he’s awake. We’ll make him want to be here. Besides, it will be good for us to have someone that constantly needs to be cared for. We can make him our little baby, Our little clover” Namjoon said as he left a kiss on Yoongi’s head and finally made eye contact with Seokjin. 

“Perhaps. He’s easy to love when he’s that cute. Okay, fine. We’ll alter him as soon as he’s awake. But then you can’t keep him to yourself. We have an empire to take after all” Seokjin said as he moved closer to Namjoon. He felt this itch to just hold Yoongi close to himself and the fact that he wasn’t in his arms bothered Seokjin.  

“I haven’t forgotten” Namjoon sighed. “Ah, take him and have him rest with the others. I have some stressful phone calls to make” Namjoon said, scooting back to give Seokjin enough space to reach down and take the sleeping Green from Namjoon’s lap. The boy was really precious, stubborn, but precious indeed. 

***

Yoongi hasn’t had proper sleep in ages. The only reason that he knows this is because the moment he woke up, he didn’t feel tired almost immediately, he didn’t have a headache, and his body didn’t have any heaviness to it. Besides feeling as if he was underwater and he finally surfaced for the first time, he felt good. 

He was in a dark-ish room. On a very comfortable couch, covered by what has to be the world's softest blanket. Despite the comfort, Yoongi’s stomach dropped as everything that happened came crashing down on him. Namjoons words played on repeat in his head. 

“We were responsible for everything that happened, little clover. It was all part of the plan to get you right where we want you. Were we need you. Vulnerable and so, so dependant”

What did he mean by them? Did he mean that every misfortune Yoongi has ever experienced is somehow linked to them? That can’t be right. They have been so nice to him all this time. They helped him find a job, and they helped him move into a nicer home, even if it came with six other people. They listen to him. They are probably the only friend he has ever had, so what could those words mean? 

Was it all a lie? Are they secretly part of the mafia and now they are going to harvest his organs to trade on the black market with? No, that can’t be right. He would have felt the need to escape if that was the case. He knew the feeling well. His own mother  turned on him when he least expected it. 

He needed to talk to Namjoon and clarify some things. Maybe apologise for being so rude. They helped him. They are willing to interact with him. Treat him as a human. They even risked their lives for him. Who in their right mind would protect a complete stranger during a gunfight in a train? Who would willingly allow a stranger to fall asleep on them in a car? Yes, some of them are a little… rough. But Yoongi also isn’t the easiest person to be around. 

With his mind made up, Yoongi got out of bed in his search for anyone else. He for some reason, did not like the idea of being alone. Pushing open the door Yoongi made his way down the hallway. He turned a corner and promptly stumbled back as he bumped into someone. Looking up, Yoongi made direct eye contact with Jimin. His eyes were a deep red as they shined with so much warmth. 

“Where are you going, little clover?” Jimin asked, his voice a smooth flowing stream. 

“I need to find Namjoon, do you know where he is?” Yoongi answered as he struggled to break eye contact. 

“Oh? Why do you need to talk to him?” Jimin asked with a slight frown. As if he didn’t expect this particular answer from Yoongi. 

“Well, I was very rude to him earlier. I said some things that I shouldn’t have and he said some things that didn’t make any sense. You guys did so much for me and I was way out of line so I wanted to clear the air. I need to” Yoongi whispered out as he fell deeper into Jimin's intense gaze. 

“Oh no, that wasn’t very nice of you. I am sure he would appreciate an apology and maybe a love confession. Wait, what do you mean by the need to?” Jimin asked as he tilted his head. Yoongi followed the movement without thinking. 

“No one has ever been nice to me. My own mother left me. My father killed himself because he couldn’t stand the thought of me as his son. I don’t think I would be strong enough to go through something like that again” Yoongi said. 

Jimin said nothing as he looked away. He simply took Yoongi’s hand as he lead him down the hallway towards a common area. Everyone was there. They seemed to be in a deep discussion of some sorts, but they all stopped talking when Jimin cleared his throat. All eyes landed on Yoongi as he tried to hide slightly behind Jimin. 

“Yoongi? Are you okay?” Seokjin asked as his eyes slightly drifted to Jimin. 

“He just woke up and we had a very interesting discussion in the hallway. There was no need to ‘have a discussion’ with him about things. He wants to say something that I thought might change some things. Go on Yoongi, tell them everything you said to me” Jimin said as he stood behind Yoongi. 

“Um, well… I wanted to apologise to you Namjoon. I was being very rude and unreasonable and I know you just reacted. You guys have been nothing but kind to me. And I am everything but. I haven’t had much experience being around other people, let alone interacting with them. I- I’m sorry… please don’t leave me too” Yoongi sniffled as he looked down trying to hide his tears. 

“Yoongi, what happened to you has been very unfair. But why do you think we’ll leave?” Hoseok asked as he sat up slightly. This was not how they had planned this. The plan was simple. Get the little green, alter his choices to fit their desires, and maybe take care of him like he deserves. 

“Everyone I loved left me after my Aura game forward. I-” Yoongi took a deep breath. This was it. Two things could happen. They will either say nothing and throw him out onto the streets to fend for himself, or they will call the extractors to get rid of him. “I’m a green. My father took his own life because of me. My mother… left me too. She tried to keep me alive but something changed. The last thing she said to me before she left was ‘I shouldn’t have helped you back then. I should have left you to die'. I have never had a friend, or lover, or anything” Yoongi said to a silent room.

 He was trembling by the time he was done. He shouldn’t have said anything. Yoongi turned around. He needs to leave before they make him. That would make everything a little easier. 

“We know,” Taehyung said just as Yoongi took a step toward the hallway. “We knew you were a green the moment we met you. We also could see how others who didn’t know were treating us. You are kind, sweet, and very caring. You are very innocent and the world is not made for someone like you. We took an interest in you for your color, but we would want you to stay because well… we like you” Taehyung said. 

Yoongi was frozen for all but a second before he was pulled into a lap. He didn’t even have time to put up a struggle before someone was kissing him. There was more than one set of hands on him, but he strangely didn’t mind it. 

“Yoongi, you complete us. Why would we let you go? Your our little clover. Sometimes its okay to not have all the answers to the why’s. To the obvious questions… sometimes its okay to admit that you have loft and accept whatever is in front of you. Besides you want to be here, right?” Jimin asked with his silky voice. 

Yoongi made eye contact with everyone else in the room. Taehyung was holding him by his hips, just like he did in the car he forced him into. Jungkook looked just as intimidating as his eyes practically devoured Yoongi. Hoseok had the charming smile he wore the first time he spoke to Yoongi under that one tree. Jimin looked sincere as his eyes held their red glow, the same glow from the stranger who gave him the phone he left in the classroom. Namjoon looked as intimidating as the lead gunman on the train did the day Seokjin saved him. And Seokjin looked seconds away from wrapping him up in a blanket and playing with his hair like he did so many weeks ago in the car. 

There were no doubt that these men liked him. Of course, we would want to stay here. They saved him. They care for him and they would keep him safe. They would never try to hurt or manipulate him. 

“I want to be here,” Yoongi said receiving six devious smiles in return.

[emo-and-confused]

au//// When someone’s causes you emotional damage or trauma, thin flowers raise from your skin. Most people have, on average, three groups. The people of the DSMP typically have a few more than the average. However, Tommy has significantly more, and people don’t realise.

Tommy’s first set of flowers raise when he’s only seven years old. Phil neglected him for his oldest brother, leaving Wilbur to raise him. The group of five flowers raise when Phil misses his seventh birthday in favor of going on an adventure with Techno. The flowers are green and white, and cover his upper thigh, raised slightly from the skin, the marks being tender and feeling slightly like a petal. He doesn’t tell Wilbur, even as his brother holds him while he cries. He knows what the flowers mean, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to feel even worse for him. Even when wearing shorts, the flowers aren’t visible.

(A small flower is added to the group of five on his thigh when he leaves for the Dream SMP, Wilbur promising to come and meet him soon, while Phil and Techno don’t say anything. The flower hurts a little more when it grows in, and the green petals have a mixture of pink swirled in. He still doesn’t tell anyone)

Tommy’s second set of flowers is smaller, during the Disc Saga with Dream. Two flowers raise from the skin along his shoulder blade, both a shade of green usually associated with the admin he’s at war with. He didn’t feel too hurt by the war, but he felt enough of it. He understood though, even if Dream had invited him to his land, Tommy guesses he was just too much to handle. But Tubbo kept him grounded, so he didn’t back down from the war. They were his discs anyways. The sleeve of his shirt covers the flowers; he keeps it a secret.

Tommy’s third set of flowers bloom when Eret betrayed them for the Dream Team. Six flowers bloom across his chest, hurting while they raise. He had liked Eret, he had thought they were friends. Now he can barely look at the guy without remembering the feeling of betrayal, the words “It was never meant to be” ringing in his ears as he remembers Dream killing him and taking his first life (a new green flower is added to his shoulder blade). He trades his red and white shirt in for a bigger size, so the flowers don’t show through the shirt.

Tommy’s fourth set of flowers grow when Sapnap kills Henry. It hurt more than when Sapnap killed Harold, because Henry’s death was intentional. He liked Sapnap at one point, but they had an unsteady friendship. Henry’s death caused a single cream coloured flower to raise at the skin on the right side of his ribcage, creating a constant reminder of the death of his pet.

Tommy loses sight of when the flowers start to bloom after that. He stops remembering which grew in chronological order, and instead only remembering why they grew in the first place.

More neon green flowers raise across both shoulders as Dream continues to mess with him, sometimes the colour of his discs showing up at the ends of the petals. He adds length to his sleeves, and makes the neckline of his shirt a little higher. It’s okay, no one needs to know. He’s not weak, he’s not sensitive (he knows the amount of flowers he already has say otherwise).

The flowers from Eret hurt less as time moves, the king redeeming himself slightly. The flowers don’t fade, he doesn’t think he ever will, but the pain is almost completely gone.

(When he comes across the Final Control Room with Techno, the pain comes back. It doesn’t leave for a week.)

Schlatt causes a grey flower to raise on the back of his neck. He was Tommy’s idol, and he really thought they were, or could be, friends. But his and Wilbur’s exile proved otherwise. His hair covers the flower easily; he doesn’t have to try hard to hide it.

Quackity’s betrayal of L’manburg for Schlatt makes two small blue flowers bloom right above Schlatt’s grey one. It hurts but is almost completely forgotten when Quackity joins them in Pogtopia later.

He gains five brown and yellow flowers from Wilbur during Pogtopia, covering the left half of his stomach. Four more are added when he blows up L’manburg, one more is added when he sees his brother begging his father to kill him. A huge green and white flower is added to those on his thigh. He doesn’t wear shorts anymore to keep it hidden. All of them cause him pain.

Techno causes four pink flowers to run down his right arm. His brother told him to die and spawned withers. It hurt a lot, but he continued to hide. The flowers were thinner than the others, and he starts wearing a white long sleeved shirt underneath his iconic red and white tee. It hides them perfectly. No one questions the new fashion choice.

Seven yellow and black stripped flowers bloom across his heart when Tubbo exiles him. His best friend exiled him and sent him away for a mistake that he didn’t mean to make. The prank had gotten out of hand.

In Logstedshire, the green flowers across his shoulder blade multiply and grow darker, and he has to ask Ranboo to get him the red and white hoodie he has stored in his home, back in L’manburg. He prepared for this, he knew he was going to be covered in flowers one day. People just didn’t like him. Ranboo doesn’t ask why, he doesn’t see the dark green flowers through the white shirt sleeve.

Dream finds out about his flowers. He’s the first one to ever find out. Dream manipulates and gaslights and abuses him, and he almost jumps into the lava so many times. When Dream blows up Logstedshire, no new flowers are added, but the preexisting ones burn. He almost jumps off the pillar he made. (He doesn’t).

When he finds Technoblade’s cabin, he starts to heal. His flowers hurt less and less as the days go by, but they never leave. They never fade.

But then Dream blames him for blowing up the community house, and he and Tubbo fight after Tubbo gets his disc from the enderchest. A new black and yellow flower is added to the bunch over his heart.

Then he chooses Tubbo over Techno. His best friend over his brother. Both have caused flowers but Tubbo was always there. He doesn’t feel like he’s betrayed Techno; he never agreed to L’manburg getting blown up. And Techno sides with Dream, causing more pink flowers to be added to his arm. He understands though, he did chose the opposite side. It doesn’t matter if his brother was the first one to hurt him.

Fundy and Niki both cause flowers; Niki’s two purple and Fundy’s two orange ones intertwining with each other on his ankles. Niki burned down L’mantree and Fundy sabotaged their war supplies. It’s okay though; they might want him dead but he fucked up in the past. He understands their hatred of him.

Other miscellaneous flowers are spotted across him, and his gives up on trying to remember who all hurt him. His skin is painted with thin petals of all colors, from so many people.

When L’manburg’s been blown up for the last time, Dream’s TNT running out and Techno’s withers being dead, and Phil standing with the two of them looking at their work, Tommy is tired. He struggles to breathe normally, but he doesn’t cry. He’s past that.

Dream looks at him, his mask lifted up just barely enough to see the smug smile on his face. Tommy looks down, looks at the destruction. He’s so tired.

“How many were added?” Dream asks. Tommy knows what he means. Tommy doesn’t respond.

Everyone is listening, just like they did at the community house. They’re confused, but they let it play out, not intervening. They never do.

Tubbo moves closer to Tommy as Dream does. Techno and Phil just watch with the rest.

“I asked a question.” His voice makes Tommy shiver and represss memories of Logsted. “How many flowers were added since I last saw?”

Tommy’s reply is simple: a shrug and a quiet “too many”.

Dream moves before Tubbo has a chance to stop him, and Tommy doesn’t try and defend himself. Dream’s axe slashes at Tommy’s hoodie, cutting away the fabric and revealing the flowers that cover his arms and stomach and shoulders and back. The axe cuts at Tommy’s jeans, the denim peeling slightly and showing a sliver of flowers at his thighs and ankles.

No one knows what to do, no one knows what to say, as Dream reveals the pain of the sixteen year old. None of them have as many flowers as that. A lot of them have more than three bundles, but no where near as many as those on Tommy’s skin.

Tommy just closes his eyes, and breathes in. He turns around and walks away, hearing Dream’s laugh coat the silence in the destruction of the broken country. It’s not until he’s at the stairs of the Prime Path that he hears yelling, everyone accusing others and shouting for revenge at Dream.

Tommy doesn’t notice when he gets to the bench, he doesn’t notice when he sits down and watches the sunset. He only becomes aware of reality once more when he feels Tubbo’s presence behind him.

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. The silence is comforting.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (v)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of poor parenting and damaged familial relationships

series masterpost: here

a/n: and just like that we're halfway through!!! it's crazy to think about it. however, lots happens in this chapter so buckle up peeps

Soon Magdalene’s feelings are going to get the better of her.

She knows she’s heading down a dangerous path but she can’t help it. Ryan is like a drug she can’t get enough of even though she knows it will hurt her in the long run. Living with him has opened her up to the laid back, intelligent, incredibly funny man he is and Magdalene doesn’t know how she’s ever going to function in her own space ever again. They complement each other like two peas in a pod, and everyone else is starting to catch on to the shift in their relationship.

“When are you going to fess up to Ryan about your feelings?” Bette asks as the two of them sit on the lawn across from the university library. It’s mid October, but the weather is still warm enough that Magdalene eats her lunch outside. Her best friend decided to join her today, no doubt knowing that she’s feeling a little lonely. The Avalanche are in the middle of their season opening road trip and have been gone for nearly five days. Ryan’s condo feels empty without him in it, and Magdalene misses him an unfathomable amount.

“Never, if I can help it,” she replies casually, taking a bite of the turkey wrap that Bette brought her from Barn Owl.

The blonde scoffs. “Fuck off. You have to. What are you going to do when he gets back from Florida and you tackle him as soon as he steps through the door.”

“Caligula will get there first,” Magdalene shrugs. “Those two are thick as thieves.”

Truthfully, Magdalene wasn’t sure what she was going to do. This is the longest they’ve been separated since she moved in and it’s proving to be a harder adjustment than she thought. Magdalene feels a little silly missing him so much – she went nearly twenty-six years without knowing Ryan but now he’s imprinted on her soul for the rest of eternity. Living without him seems impossible.

Bette drops the conversation then, almost as if she knows Magdalene is in her own world thinking about what to do. She mentions the upcoming home opener and her plans to attend with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends. “We’re going out beforehand and you should join us! I really think you’d like most of them.”

The bell in the clock tower rings, signalling the start of another hour, and Magdalene promises she’ll consider the offer as they pack up the picnic and say goodbye. It’s a short walk back to the building she works in, seeing as they were only across the street, but it takes a while for the elevator to come around. Magdalene could have taken the stairs down to the basement but they scare her a lot more than she’d like to admit. Hopefully June won’t mind her being a few minutes late.

Her boss doesn’t look too pleased when Magdalene strolls through the door almost seven minutes later then she should have, but as soon as she tosses the cookie Bette brought her in June’s direction all is forgiven. They work in near silence all afternoon, background noise provided by the small stereo in the corner and their respective grunts of frustration when an image doesn’t digitize properly. The university has finally decided to undertake the massive project of making all their school records available to the public online, and Magdalene and June are in charge of getting all the files ready before sending them to IT for installation into the website. It’s a huge task and is going to take them the better part of a month and a half to finish. Magdalene spends the rest of her work day finishing up a box of graduation records from the 1870s and leaves smelling of very old paper.

On the drive home she considers the invitation Bette extended to her. Magdalene knows she’ll be attending the game, having promised Ryan before he left that she’d be there, but she doesn’t know how to feel about going out for dinner and drink beforehand – especially with people so involved with the team. She isn’t like them, in nearly every sense of the phrase, and doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan for people to assume they’re together in case he ever does want to bring someone around, but Magdalene can’t help thinking that the speculation wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it would be the clue that shows him how she feels.

The invite stays in the back of her brain while she heats up leftovers and eats quickly, knowing that Ryan will call soon. He’s like clockwork with his precise game day routine, and he always calls shortly after four o’clock when out east. Magdalene’s phone buzzes from the spot beside her on the couch and she quickly scoops it up and accepts the call.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless because she’s so excited to talk to him.

“Hey yourself. How was work?” Magdalene can tell Ryan’s got a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. She indulges the question, telling him all about the stuff she digitized and what’s next. Though she always tries to get out of talking about work, fearing it will bore the daylights out of him, Ryan insists on hearing every detail Magdalene wants to share. He finds it all fascinating and tells her so every chance he gets. During her monologue Caligula wanders over and becomes extremely invested after he hears Ryan laugh at something Magdalene said. The small white cat jumps onto Magdalene’s lap and tries to paw the phone away from her ear.

“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Little boots would like to talk.”

At the sound of Ryan’s greeting, Caligula starts meowing up a storm. It’s as though he’s actually holding a conversation with the man, waiting for Ryan to say something before he continues to make noise. Magdalene laughs through what could barely classify as a conversation until the cat gives her space to talk again.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word in an attempt to make Ryan laugh. “Bette asked me to join her and some of the other girls for drinks before Friday’s game.”

Ryan’s responding before Magdalene has finished uttering the last words. “That’s great! I think you should go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, “It would be nice for you to know someone other than Bette.”

Magdalene is surprised at the response, but tries her hardest to keep her tone light and teasing. “Why, you plan on keeping me around Mr. Graves?” She can tell Ryan is struggling to come up with an answer because there’s a fair amount of sputtering on the other end of the line.

“I’d be stupid to let you go.”

All the breath in Magdalene’s lungs escapes her. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, and it sends her mind reeling. What does he mean? Unable to process the comment, Magdalene makes up an excuse and hangs up as quickly as possible. She spends the rest of the night wondering if Ryan was trying to make a move and deciding how she should handle his homecoming in a few days.

☼☼☼☼

When Ryan gets home Thursday morning Magdalene is at work. Caligula is happy to see him, practically pouncing on him and purring so loud Ryan’s sure the neighbours heard the cat. For an animal so small, Caligula can make a lot of noise if he wants.

“Hi boy,” Ryan coos, adjusting his grip on the cat so he doesn’t get dropped while the two of them move around the house. “Did your mom talk about me while I was gone? Been thinking about her a lot lately.”

The cat doesn’t respond, of course, but Ryan finds comfort in vocalizing his emotions. Multiple times on the road trip Tyson made fun of him for the silent pining he’s found himself participating in since Magdalene moved in, and hinted that she might have said something to Bette. Neither of them are great at keeping secrets, but Ryan also knows they want him and Magdalene to get together and aren’t above manipulation to achieve their goals. He doesn’t know how Magdalene actually feels, but Ryan isn’t willing to risk losing their friendship. Just a couple of months ago she sat on the deck of the lake house and told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship – he has to assume that’s still her position because if he doesn’t Ryan isn’t quite sure what he’ll unleash. Though the two of them are close, closer than most friends, Magdalene stills keeps a lot of things to herself and Ryan doesn’t want to pry. When, and if, she’s ready he knows she’ll come to him.

Exhausted from the countless hours of travel he’s endured over the past few days and the pains that come along with being a professional athlete, Ryan falls back onto the couch cushions. He hurts in places he didn’t know existed and wants to do nothing but sleep. Caligula settles into his stomach, purring contently, and though he knows he should unpack his gear, Ryan can’t find the energy to move himself or the cat. Everything will still be there when he wakes up, and hopefully Magdalene will be on her way home. She texted Ryan earlier in the morning, no doubt just before she headed out the door, to say that she was taking some holidays to have a long weekend and would be home around noon. Sleep comes easy with Caligula nestled against his body, and Ryan dreams of Magdalene as he frequently does.

☼☼☼☼

Despite Bette telling her countless times she shouldn’t be, Magdalene is nervous. The significant others of the Colorado Avalanche are a tight knit group and are very particular with who they let in. Magdalene is a nothing, has no true connections to the team besides being Tyson’s girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s worried she won’t make the cut. If it wasn’t for Bette picking her up in the morning Magdalene would have found a way to get out of drinks, but the blonde made sure she couldn’t make a run for it.

Sitting in the elevated booth, she not-so-casually sips her glass of wine while Bette tries to calm her down. “They’re going to hate me,” she groans, lowering her head to rest it on the table.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bette counters. “You literally know most of them, and Livy will be here if you get too uncomfortable, but most of them were at EJ’s back in May.”

Magdalene can’t argue with the truth, so she rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. By the time she flags down the waiter for a refill the other girls have arrived. They take turns hugging Bette and shuffling into their seats. Magdalene feels awkward with no one acknowledging her, but she does her best to buck up and deal with it. It means a lot to Bette, and Ryan, that she’s here trying to make friends so she’ll at least make an effort.

A blonde who looks a little older than the rest addresses her first. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Mel. I think we met last season at a game.”

It takes Magdalene a second to recall the face, but then she recognizes Mel as the person who alerted her to the fight Ryan got into to defend Tyson. “Oh yeah,” she chuckles, though it’s still got a nervous quality, “You’re the one who was yelling about Ryan’s fight.”

Everyone looks at her like Magdalene had confessed to seeing a ghost. “What’s the matter?”

“No one ever calls him that,” a petite girl with tight curls explains. “We all just call him Gravy.”

“Oh.”

Magdalene isn’t sure what the comment is supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all, but she does her best to push it aside because Livy is trying to catch up with her. The rest of the outing goes well – Magdalene keeps quiet until someone gives an inaccurate analogy about Rome and she has to correct them. It may make her seem stuck up, but she really hates when people spread misinformation. Everyone laughs, and after that it’s hard for Magdalene to stay silent. She talks about work and college, but when someone asks about home she shuts down. Bette notices the shift in her behaviour before Magdalene’s face has even dropped, and shifts the conversation in another direction. Soon it’s a respectable time to head to the arena and they all pay their tabs, Magdalene going first and then ducking out of the bar that became crowded while they were sitting down.

The fresh air feels good against her skin, and she takes the time alone to regulate her thoughts. There’s still several hours until she can return home and cry in the shower over the mention of her family so it’s important to present a calm facade. Bette comes out slightly ahead of the other girls and checks in with her friend, but Magdalene assures her she’s okay. It was a bit of a spook, but the other girls have no idea about how fucked up her familial situation is so Magdalene can’t hold it against them. The arena is a few blocks over, so the group walks towards it at a brisk pace. Magdalene’s mind is still churning from the bar when they step inside, so she peels off from the rest of the group. Warm ups are about to start and she knows that seeing Ryan will help to calm her down, at least until they can go home and she can sequester herself away from the rest of the world.

She finds a space against the glass and strains her eyes for her new favourite number. Ryan hasn’t made it out on the ice yet, but Tyson gives her a big wave when he skates past. It takes a few seconds, though it feels like years, but Ryan eventually steps out, all long limbs and hair and dazzling smile as his teammates give him big hi-fives. Magdalene doesn’t want to intrude but she needs to spend a few moments with him to feel completely present. When he skates by she waves shyly, and Ryan doubles back once he realizes who it is.

“There’s my favourite girl!” he shouts over the crowd, making sure Magdalene can hear.

The phrase brings a smile to her face, which in turn makes Ryan light up more. “Hi Ry,” she yells back. “I just wanted to come and say hi.”

Ryan’s heart warms at her words, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He’s lived with her long enough to know that something is bothering her but he isn’t going to push. There isn’t much time to have a conversation, so Ryan takes the time to make plans for after the game. “You riding home with me?”

Magdalene nods. “Yeah. Bette picked me up this morning so I didn’t drive.”

The loud sound of sticks clapping against the ice startles them both, and it’s Ryan’s teammate’s way of getting him to refocus. Magdalene says goodbye and before Ryan heads back to the bench he flips a puck over the glass for her. She smiles brightly, and watches him skate away. On her way up the stairs she hands it to a little girl wearing a much too big Graves jersey. It makes her night, and Magdalene returns to the private box she’s watching the game from feeling much lighter than when she entered the arena.

☼☼☼☼

Later, much later, after all of Ryan’s post game media and sitting through the traffic of downtown, Magdalene opens up about what was bothering her at the arena. The two of them are curled up in Ryan’s bed buried under a mass of blankets with several pillows strewn about. It’s become a frequent place for them to spend time, and every time they lay down Magdalene rests her head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps her in place with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Magdalene’s clutching his hoodie tighter than usual, her voice small as she speaks into the darkness of the room.

“I didn’t just want to say hi earlier.”

Ryan isn’t surprised by her confession, but wants to know what caused the surprise visit. “No? What was it?”

Magdalene lift head and shifts to face him, propping herself up with an open palm. “It’s kind of stupid,” she mumbles, feeling dumb for even bringing it up. Ryan doesn’t want to know the sob story that is her past life. “But it’s mostly okay now.”

“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t want to push, but I think getting it off your chest will help,” he whispers, feeling like talking in a normal voice could startle the girl in front of him.

He’s right – Magdalene knows it. Telling someone the truth, as much of the truth as she can share, other than Bette would do her some good. Her therapist once said Magdalene needed to work on letting people in, and she figures there’s no one better than Ryan. “One of the girls asked me about home when we were getting drinks, and it’s just a really sore subject for me. I shut down and just needed to see you to ground myself.” Ryan goes to talk, but Magdalene continues. “No one really knows, but I left for Denver as soon as I graduated high school. My parents weren’t the greatest, and I suffered a lot emotionally at home. When I told them I was leaving, they told me never to come back and we haven’t spoken since. So yeah, that’s pretty much it. And I just needed to see you to remind myself that I’m okay without my family. You’re part of my family now, the one that really matters.”

Ryan is speechless. “Oh bug,” he sighs, heart hurting for all the pain Magdalene has experienced in her life. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to scream for her, maybe even break something, but all his anger dissipates when he looks down and sees her crying. Silently, Ryan wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and holds Magdalene until she stops trembling. They lay in silence for a while, sitting with the weight of the confession she just made. At some point Caligula shuffles in and finds a spot at Ryan’s side that isn’t occupied by Magdalene. The three of them feel like a little family, and it’s too good for Magdalene not to do something about.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s never been so confident while asking a question. Magdalene knows he wants to kiss Ryan, has known for a while, and after baring her soul to him it seems like an appropriate time to take the plunge. They’ve never truly been just friends and everyone around them, including themselves, knows it.

“Mags,” Ryan says in a gentle yet stern voice, “I’m not gonna kiss you. You’ve just been very vulnerable with me, which I appreciate, and though I really really want to fucking kiss you I’m going to take advantage of you like that.”

If it were possible, Magdalene’s heart would expand so much it would be close to bursting. “I promise this is what I want and that I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. So please shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

She leans forward to connect their lips, and it feels like a fire has been ignited in her veins. Ryan is soft and gentle with the right amount of grit to make Magdalene weak in the knees. They move in tandem, giving and taking where necessary, and by the time they pull apart for air Magdalene thinks she’ll never be able to kiss anyone other than Ryan. When he looks at her, eyes kind and glimmering with light, Magdalene is certain kissing other people is off the table.

Neither of them make an effort to talk about what just happened or what it means. Instead, Magdalene kisses him again, and again, and keeps going until she’s completely out of breath. There’s no protest from Ryan, and he looks as blissful as Magdalene feels. She rests her head on his chest again and he cards his fingers through her hair as they sit in the comfortable silence that surrounds them.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene keeps kissing Ryan, and he keeps kissing her. It’s always in the safety of his apartment, oftentimes with Caligula in the way, but wholesome and loving and warm. They haven’t defined their relationship, and truthfully Magdalene is glad. She likes being friends with Ryan and doesn’t know how the added pressures of dating would affect them – though she might like kissing him more than just being friends.

It becomes routine for either of them to reach for a kiss before heading to the door. Magdalene gets one every time she leaves for work, and if she���s there before Ryan has to leave for games he’s pulled into her lips by his tie. It’s fun and it’s new and Magdalene never wants it to end. She keeps the secret for a couple weeks, but eventually it becomes too much to hold in and she tells Bette one Saturday when they meet for brunch at Barn Owl because the boys are away.

“I kissed Ryan.” It’s out of her mouth like a bullet, cutting through the air and ringing out. Bette is shocked, jaw dropping, only to open further when Magdalene corrects herself. “Been kissing Ryan, actually.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Bette laughs, still not one hundred percent sure Magdalene is being serious. When the brunette nods her head, she squeals in what can only be presumed as delight. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”

Magdalene indulges her friend, and spills every detail she’s willing to share. Part of her wants to keep a bit of her life with Ryan a secret so she does, but Bette is more than willing to work with the information given. She listens carefully while Magdalene talks and waits until there’s nothing more to say before diving into a long list of reasons why kissing Ryan is the best thing that’s ever happened to her friend. Magdalene isn’t sure that it’s great because Bette will always have someone to go to games with, but she is in agreement that it is one of the best choices she’s ever made. They spend the rest of the morning giggling like school girls over potential love and Magdalene heads back to Ryan’s place feeling light and airy.

☼☼☼☼

The first thing Ryan does when he comes home is kisses Magdalene. She’s sitting on the couch with Caligula on her lap reading a book, and he doesn’t even bother to drop his bags on the floor before leaning over the worn leather and connecting their lips. It feels heavenly after the days-long absence and Magdalene chases his lips when Ryan pulls away.

“I missed you.”

They’re three words that shouldn’t mean much, but coming from him they send Magdalene spiralling. He missed her? The girl who spends her days geeking out over old documents and talks to her cat? Regardless of how true the statement is she appreciates it, because Magdalene missed Ryan more than she could ever explain.

“How was the flight home?” she asks, twirling a lock of his hair around her index finger and pulling him down for another kiss. Ryan happily obliges, and kisses her until Caligula begins to meow for attention. The cat practically launches himself into Ryan’s arms as he rounds the corner to sit down next to Magdalene, and purrs loudly at being reunited with the tall man.

Ryan laughs at the animal’s antics before wrapping his spare arm around Magdalene and pulling her close. “It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence that made it hard to sleep but I managed,” he replies, and reaches for the television remote. Magdalene hums in response, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder and returning her attention to the book in her hands. It’s silent except for the low buzz of the television as Ryan reviews tape, but neither of them mind. Co-existing is enough for both of them, and it’s peaceful and easy. The occasional conversation occurs but they mostly do their own thing, enjoying the feeling of being together again. More than a few kisses are shared, and Magdalene eventually pries herself away from Ryan long enough to make dinner.

They stayed glued to each other until Magdalene falls asleep. Ryan doesn’t even notice when it happens, but eventually he tries to leave the couch to get a glass of water and finds dead weight on top of him in the shape of the girl he just might love. Magdalene’s snoring softly, and he’s positive there is nothing more adorable in the entire world. A glance at the clock on the wall alerts Ryan to the fact that he should go to bed too, and he begins to brainstorm how to get Magdalene into bed without waking her. She’s been exhausted lately, working extended hours, and he knows she needs all the rest she can get.

It takes a few moments to coordinate, but Ryan gets himself upright without Magdalene realizing she’s no longer using him as a pillow. Gently he scoops her into his arms and pads down the hallway, careful not to hit her ankles on the walls or door frames. Once inside her room, Ryan tucks Magdalene into bed and makes sure her phone is on the nightstand just where she likes it. She looks so content in sleep that he can’t help but lean down and press a shirt kiss to her forehead.

“Night Mags,” he whispers into the dark, wondering if she’ll wake and hear all the adoration his voice holds.

Magdalene stirs at the noise, and opens her eyes to see Ryan’s retreating figure. “Night Ry.”

It’s late, approaching two in the morning, when Magdalene’s phone starts ringing off the hook. Though Ryan has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to turn her sound on before she goes to bed, she can never find it in her to heed his words. What if there’s an emergency somewhere and some hospital has to get a hold of her? Magdalene would never be able to forgive herself if she was too late because she slept through the incoming calls.

Despite her underlying fears of missing something important, Magdalene considers letting it go to voicemail. She’s exhausted, between the high maintenance projects at work and trying her hardest to go to every Avalanche home game she can, and if it’s urgent she’s sure the person will call again if they need her. It rings three more times before Magdalene decides to pick it up – if only to stop the incessant noise.

Not bothering to even see who’s calling at such an ungodly hour, Magdalene speaks in a sleep-laden voice that betrays what she was doing not even a minute prior. “Hello?”

Bette answers her, offering a quick but sincere apology for the time but explaining that it couldn’t wait. Magdalene groans in contempt, thinking that it most certainly could have waited a few more hours. She doesn’t voice her opinion however, instead waiting for her friend to spill whatever news was making her bounce up and down on the other side of the line.

She’s about to hang up when Bette utters a sentence Magdalene’s been waiting for but never thought she’d hear at one fifty-seven am. “I’m getting married!”

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlouisbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster @rapidfever @bb-nhlqueen7 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[nochuvalencia]

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - jhs

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: jhope x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: “you taste like heaven angel.”

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: SMUT

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 8.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: CUNNILINGUS, multiple orgasms, spanking, hobi is a prick, ex!hoseok, they kinda almost get caught, reader acts like she doesn’t want him, he chokes her like once, jealous hob, the tiniest bit of taehyung x reader but it’s just flirting, toxicbf!hobi

It had been over six months since you had broken up with Hoseok and you still couldn’t get that bastard out of your head. It was exhausting really only because he was the most toxic, manipulative, yet amazing boyfriend you have ever been with all at the same time. To your dismay, you remember every daunting detail of the day the two of you broke up with a precision that is pathetic to say the least. You vividly recall the way he blatantly flirted and danced with your best friend at the time. The way he caressed her arm the way he had done to you millions of times. The way he whispered into her ear. The way he curled his hands around her waist and glanced over at you with a knowing smirk. All because you didn’t object to a free drink from the hot bartender that night. He was always jealous and insufferably so which was one of the reasons why you stormed over to the pair, kicked him in the shin and swiftly broke up with him with a quick “we’re over” in a cloud of heated fury. Obviously you had been very upset after that but the most upsetting thing was the fact that he reacted to your kick more than he reacted to you breaking up with him so you had stormed out of the establishment before attracting any additional unwanted attention. You cried on the sidewalk outside of the rowdy night club for hours before receiving a text from him that really set you off which read, ‘you’ll be begging for me again my angel <3’ You weren’t really mad at the context or the way he worded it or the snarky smirk you could feel radiating off of the text, you were mad because a part of you actually believed what he wrote. That you’d come crawling back to him like a pathetic little puppy. You hated the fact that you were always so obedient and did exactly what he wanted when he wanted, so you’d promised yourself that from that day forward, you wouldn’t do just that.

He had done shit like that before, acting out because of the dumbest things, upsetting you or making you wildly jealous just because he loved how you got when you were mad but those weren’t the only reasons you broke up with him. In the club that night while you watched them dance and talk, tauntingly aware of your presence, you wondered how your life would be in the future if your relationship continued. You thought he might have loved you but he was controlling, jealous, uber toxic and you didn’t know how those traits would translate in the future. So you panicked and bailed, thinking, ‘will he act like this if we grow old together?’ and ‘how will he be if we get married?’ or ‘would he even want to get married?’. All the worried thoughts swirling in your head mixed with the alcohol and jealous rage contributed to your rash decisions and you were way too ashamed to turn back after the deed had been done, no matter how much you cared for him. You were too ashamed to admit your mistake and were still trying to figure out if it even had been one. Your relationship from start to finish was just a rollercoaster of mixed signals and you were ready to get off that ride and find something more stable. Something that would last, and you knew you wouldn’t find it with him and you knew it even after being apart from him for so long, so why was he still on your mind?

The man left his mark on you, his residue thoroughly coating your brain and sticking like frozen tar, firmly ingraining itself in your mind and further convincing you that you were still his. But you weren’t. Obviously, and you thought at first that you merely needed to convince yourself of that with countless nights of alcohol and terrible drunk sex with strangers. That was really the only time your mind was ever free of his wrath. Not during the sex though, you mainly just recalled of all the ways Hoseok was better than the guys that were sleeping with you. You figured that was one of the reasons you couldn’t get him off of your mind, his tongue was phenomenal in itself. While you were together, he once made you cum four times with his mouth alone, which blew your mind completely and only made you attached even more to your dismay. Only one of your several hookups came close to being as good as him but it was still a bit disappointing if you were being frank. The man was sloppy and not in a good way. However, you never really retained the energy to complain about them anymore.

You currently stood outside the nightclub owned by none other than the devil himself, Jung Hoseok. It sounded like the absolute dumbest thing you could do since you had been spending the last half of a year trying to get over him but the bartender was a really good friend, you always got in free after he put you on the VIP list whilst you were in a relationship, and you knew his work schedule. He never worked on Saturdays because the club was way too full for him to bear so that was exactly when you went, even though in truth it was a little too full for you to bear as well. You had no idea why he never took you off of the VIP list but you never questioned it as long as he didn’t know you had been in attendance so you approached the entrance wincing at the loud yet muffled bass thumping through the threshold. The bouncer nodded and opened the rope invitingly upon seeing your familiar face to which you bobbed your head back, scurrying through the doorway with a scowl as the skull splitting music thumped violently into your ears. In no time you had shimmied a path through the massive sea of sweaty bodies and pushed your way up onto a barstool before locking eyes with your favorite bartender and quite literally your only friend, Taehyung. A wide smile broke out on his soft features as he set eyes on you and you returned the gesture whilst sliding onto the obnoxiously high stools at the bar. The man was ridiculously hot, a fact you hadn’t ignored as you had been trying to get him to sleep with you, or even go for a damn coffee with you for the past three months which was stupid on your part because he was one of Hoseok’s best and most trusted friends, so he’d never do that to him. But you didn’t care, Hoseok didn’t deserve friends in your opinion, and he’d basically dry humped yours the night you broke up.

“Hey handsome.” You waved him over, greeting him with a wide toothy grin and leaning closer to his slender form by crossing your arms on the counter top. He blatantly checked you out, his gaze raking slowly over the thin satin dress that hugged your frame exactly where it mattered. You bought this dress right after your breakup and officially gave it the stupid name, your “lucky fucky dress” after getting laid because of it around five times and you looked phenomenal in it. Taehyung tossed the small hand towel clutched in his slim hand over his shoulder before placing a small glass on the counter in front of you, filling it to the brim with some sort of dark liquor.

“Hey gorgeous” he greeted, his warm smile quickly becoming weary as he warned, “you probably shouldn’t be here tonight.” you quickly chugged the small glass, wincing at the delicious sting in your throat, the corners of your mouth turning down at the words he spoke. Sliding the glass back to him with a short inhale you open your mouth, about to question what he meant before he quickly answered the ‘why?’ dangling on the tip of your tongue. “He’s here babe.” Taehyung deadpanned and your soul basically dropped to hell. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you attempted to disguise your heightened emotions. This was his club after all and you couldn’t avoid him forever, but you sort of hoped that you would be able to. Although a small part of you hoped he would spot you at least once, just to flaunt how good you were doing without him, but that wouldn’t be a possibility because he was most likely cooped up in his office like the workaholic you remember he once was. You chuckled curtly at the man that stood before you, his pitiful eyes staring at you as if you were a child that just fell off their bike. He could see you were still hung up on him. It was completely obvious. Why else would you show up at his club every week? Why else would you react to Hoseok’s presence in such a manner? This was the exact reason he would never sleep with you. You were amazing, funny, and gorgeous beyond belief, but your heart still belonged to Hoseok. You were still devoted to him no matter how much you denied it. It hurt him to watch you mask your pain and he definitely wouldn’t take advantage of that.

“Okay?” you laughed out falsely, your mind running rampant with ways to change the subject. “Pour me another drink Tae.” you smiled up at him, acting as unfazed as you possibly could as you watched the glass refill and downing it in a matter of seconds before your eyes scanned the crowd of bodies dancing messily on top of each other. They looked like they were having a blast and you needed something to take your mind off of Hoseok's presumed presence. “I take it you still won’t come dance with me?” you questioned toward the handsome young bartender as you hopped off of the stool, running your hands down your dress and staring up at him as he shook his head.

“No, sorry babe. I gotta make drinks.” He replied, making a small pout form on your red tinted lips as you backed away from the counter. You shot him a curt wave as you spun around and strode onto the cluttered dance floor, pushing your way through the mounds of gyrating bodies and locking eyes with the first decent looking man you spotted in the crowd. You shot him a playful smirk as you approached him, beginning to sway your body slowly along with the music. He raked his hooded eyes up and down your body shamelessly before snaking a strong arm around your waist and spinning you so your back was flush with his hard abdomen. He was doing much better than most guys you had encountered so far. You closed your eyes and began dancing in synchronous with him, flailing and writhing rhythmically to the music as you bumped bodies with the man behind you who’s dancing skills were quite impressive to say the least. You slowly snaked your hands up your body as you continued to sway before tossing them behind you and rowdily intertwining your fingers at the back of his neck which in turn pulled him even closer to you if that were possible.

You tilted your head back to rest on his shoulder with a sigh not long before opening your eyes to be met with a sight you didn’t expect to see even after being warned by Taehyung. He said Hoseok was here but you had either expected him to be joking like he was many times before, or you had expected the man in question to stay holedup in his office like he was on almost every work night in the club. But no, there he was, hunched over the VIP balcony, his bloodthirsty glare piercing through you with the intensity of a thousand suns. He looked absolutely amazing, if you had to admit, clad in a black turtleneck with matching charcoal slacks, patent leather shoes and a black and gold Gucci belt wrapped tightly around his waist. Your heart stilled in your chest as you continued to grind on the individual behind you, your eyes and thoughts fully trained on the man above as you breathed deeply. But you weren’t going to let him get to you like he had so many other times. You utilized the liquid confidence swirling through your veins and huffed assuringly before gyrating harder into the patron behind you with a satisfied smirk as he snaked his arms down your sides.

You noticed Hosek cock his head to the side, his stoic expression never changing as he stared you down dangerously from above. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth slowly, you clamped your teeth down on the sensitive flesh as you remembered him doing so many times before and you knew for a fact it drove him insane, but his expression remained cold as he watched. Closing your eyes once more, you spun back around to face the man you had been dancing with, smiling consistently as you felt his hands wander to the expanse of your ass whilst the both of you spun and weaved on the dance floor. Glancing up at the balcony once more, you were shocked to find the place Hoseok was perched to be vacant, however you thought nothing of it as you swayed rhythmically, raising your arm to wrap it around the man’s shoulder. Barely a second later, a rough hand abruptly took hold of your wrist mid air, gripping it tightly and yanking you away from the crowd of bumping bodies. You could barely see who it was before you were dragged up the glass staircase, through the VIP lounge, and into Hoseok’s office. It was then you automatically realized who had abducted you. In no time, you were pushed into the large office and shoved roughly against the door, the force of your body slamming it shut as you stared into the fury filled eyes of your ex boyfriend with a scowl on your face. He shoved you so hard your back stung where it collided with the hard wood but you could hardly care. Too many emotions were swirling in your mind to pay attention to such a frivolous detail.

“What the fuck do you want Hoseok. “ You deadpanned, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted but furrowing your brows to seem unfazed. You struggled to maintain your resolve under his heated gaze as you fidgeted and trembled nervously, the fear and pure shock being almost too much for you to bear. You knew he was jealous from the moment you caught his gaze on the dance floor but you never expected him to do anything about it, at least not after six months of radio silence between the two of you. But he never failed to surprise you and in an instant, his hand shot up to grip the base of your throat, your eyes watering as you attempted to maintain your stoic facade.

“You know what the fuck I want Angel?” he spat, more of a question than anything as his grip tightened on the sides of your neck before he answered for you. “I want you to stop sharing what’s mine.” he replied before leaning in and enclosing your lips in the most raw, steamy kiss you had shared with anyone in a while. Before you delved into the tempting lure of the kiss, you had enough rational thought swirling in your little mind to really think about what he just said. His? You were His? You were supposed to belong so someone who used to constantly go out of their way to show they weren’t yours? His thought process made absolutely no sense and you’d become fed up a long time ago. You had enough of his bulllshit and hated how much control he had over you and your emotions so you resisted his charm for the first time in a while, twisting out of his hold and stepping away from him. He turned to face you and before you knew it, the palm of your right hand collided with his left cheek. The sound resonated through the empty room even with the loud music playing outside as you gasped in unison, a chaste groan coming from his mouth while you clasped both hands over yours. You both stood in complete silence for what felt like forever, completely speechless as you contemplated what you should do at that very moment. Half of you wanted to hit him again, the other half wanted to scream and run out of the door, but a small part just wanted to see what he would do first. No, a big part wanted to see how he would react so you stood still, absolutely stoic, just waiting until he did what you never expected him to do. He laughed. A small yet terrifying chuckle fell past his lips as his borderline murderous gaze set on you again. You held your limp hands against your chest as he began slowly walking toward you making you take small steps backward as he advanced. You ultimately hit the wall behind his desk with a sharp intake of air, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hoseok, wh-...” your words died in your throat as you swallowed thickly, pressing your palms into the wall behind you as if it would do anything to help you. “What are you doing?” you choke out as he finally approaches you, his soft minty breath fanning your face as he speaks.

“No, what are you doing ____?” he asks, spitting your name out like a weapon as you stammered. You looked down for a split second before your chin was caught in his fingers and you were forced to meet his glare. “You’ve been here 19 times in the past five months Angel,” he continued, calling you out in a way you didn’t think he paid any mind to. You knew he had access to the guest list, you’ve just never noticed him pay attention to who is in attendance unless police are involved and even then he truly never cared so you furrowed your brows. “Yet you’re still acting like you don’t want me.” he muttered, his voice hushed in contrast to the muffled bass that boomed outside his closed office door.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you Hoseok.” You murmured, glaring at him as his grip tightened, immobilizing your jaw and pushing the back of your head into the wall while he neared your face with his own still staring into your glassy eyes as your lip began to quiver, his minty breath fanning your face from the proximity. He was right and you knew it. But, he was a good boyfriend at absolute best, so why did he take refuge in your mind for so long? You began to tell yourself it might’ve been because you still love him but the daunting reality of that would be too much to bear. It would mean he won, and you didn’t wish to give him that satisfaction because no matter how much you loved him, he was still a conceited prick.

“I know you miss me baby just say it.” His voice is soft, his eyes are warm and convincing, and you almost succumb to his charm but you shake your head, groaning in disagreement as he still maintains his iron grip on your chin so you can’t respond. “You miss us, I know you do. Just need a reminder angel.” he purred seductively, his familiar rasp like heaven in your ears as you shake your head once more, your resolve still strong. “But…” He let go of your chin and stepped back once, the eye contact never wavering as he taps his left cheek which is still red from your slap, a smirk emerging on his face as he speaks. “If i’m wrong, hit me again. Do it.” he’s testing you, he knows you hate violence. He’s playing off of the fact that the first slap was a spur of the moment adrenaline rush that most likely won’t happen again. Sneaky bitch. “Come on baby, do it. Hit me angel, right here.” he muses in a teasing tone as he points his face to you. Rolling your eyes, you avert them annoyedly as you shake your head, refusing to talk to him. Taking your silence as a triumph he smiled widely before happily stating, “that’s what I thought. You love me too much.” and you finally speak.

“I don’t fucking love you anymore Hoseok. I’m not even sure why I did in the first place, you’re such a fucking prick.” you state coldly and his eyes darken once more as a challenging grin graces his hard features and he nods understandingly.

“You don’t remember why you loved me?” he questioned, almost sarcastically with a dark chuckle. “Let me remind you then Angel.” Almost suddenly, impetuously, his mouth was on your neck, his left hand coming up to hold the side of your face as he roughly yanked you closer to his body with his arm around your waist. You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his torso, in fear of falling if you hadn’t done so as he practically made out with the soft expanse of your flesh. You pulled your lip into your mouth, simultaneously biting it and the side of your tongue is an attempt to mask any sounds of enjoyment that wanted to escape. You held onto him for dear life as he deftly found your sweet spot, your knees basically turning into jello as you hummed, the noise sounding muffled through your attempts to hide it but it was audible nonetheless and you could feel him smile against your neck. He sucked hard, leaving an obvious hickey as he ventured down, his kisses and bites leaving your skin hot where his fleeting touch was remembered and he removed his hand from your face, taking it down with him and placing it in the nook under the swell of your clothed breast.

Unravelling his arm from your waist, he slowly slid the thin strap that took refuge on your left shoulder down, freeing your breast to him as it took the triangle shaped coverage down with it. He spared no fleeting moment as he lunged forward, taking the nipple in his mouth as he sucked with the force of a dyson power vacuum, his other hand pushing the fabric that covered the other breast to the side. He cupped and squeezed the ball of flesh in his hand while fervently sucking the nipple of the other, your muffled hums soon turning into low gasps and mewls as you no longer felt the need to conceal them. You sent a shaky hand down to tangle in his hair, the other taking purchase on his wrist as he clutched and kneaded the soft skin, his index and middle fingers moving up to softly tease and pinch at the erect nipple. He had no sort of incomprehension at how to pleasure you as he knew your body like the back of his hand after worshiping it like religion while you were together. He knew how to make you feel good and he was planning on showing you just how much you missed his extensive knowledge.

His tongue swirled skillfully as he tweaked, licked, and sucked all over your sensitive nipple, your little gasps and pants letting him know he was giving you exactly what you needed as he latched onto you hungrily. It had been but a few moments before he had released his mouth from its place on your breast and by then, you already looked a mess, your dress wrinkled and eyes dilated as you breathed as if you just concluded a 5k. He loved seeing you like this, making you like this. He loved seeing you already so ruined after only a morsel of his touch. He couldn’t count on one hand how many times he had to fight the urge to spin you around and take you against the wall, just how you liked it, but he relented, reminding himself to pace your pleasure, to only give you exactly what you wanted in small increments, to remind you what you craved with just a taste, and make you beg for more, or less, whichever came first.

Hoseok resumed his descent, marking his path in a trail of kisses, kitten licks, and hickeys along the expanse of your abdomen as his hands followed, running along the sides of your body slowly before he abruptly dropped to his knees before you, staring up at you with a mischievous glint in his deep chocolate eyes. You had read the look in his eyes almost instantly as you had many times before while you were together and you almost didn’t object, but the side of you that actually has morals, told you this was not okay. No matter how much you absolutely craved to feel his touch once again.

“Hoseok, we’re not together anymore, you can’t just...” you stammered as he attached both hands onto your thighs, running them up and down the exposed skin softly, brushing underneath the hem of your dress with each pass. He stared up at you, only uttering a dramatic, ‘hmm?’ at the uncertainty of your words before leaning in to place multiple quick kisses over the skin of your legs. A wave of warmth and realization hit you at the same time and you couldn’t figure out which to focus on as you stared down at him, then everywhere except him. You wondered if this was really happening, or maybe you were dreaming and would wake up at any given moment in your comfortable bed. It had occurred many times before. But this felt way too real. It felt way too good to be a dream but you couldn’t stop him, probably because you didn’t want to but you’d never admit that to yourself as he kissed his way up your legs, his nose lifting the fabric of your dress as he moved higher. You just stared down at him dumbfoundedly, breathing heavily with your hands pressed against the wall.

In an instant, his hands were underneath the fabric of your dress, caressing the bare skin of your hips and the supple swells of your ass which were exposed by the black lace thong you wore. Of course you choose today to wear his favorite kind but you didn’t wish to dwell on it, but he did, as he slid his hands up, using the backs of his wrists to lift your dress so he had full view of your panty clad heat. He let out a deep sigh, placing a soft kiss on the area above your slit with a smirk as you made eye contact with him over the bunched fabric of your dress.

“No bra? My favorite panties? Really ____? It’s like you planned this all out.” he remarked as you furrowed your brows. You knew exactly how it looked, you showing up at your ex boyfriend’s club, wearing his favorite type of panties, and staying even after his friend told you he was here. There wasn’t much evidence in your favor so you decided to stay quiet, rolling your eyes and leaning your head back onto the wall to avoid eye contact. You heard him chuckle as he resumed, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and tugging them to the floor allowing you to step out of them hesitantly before softly slipping the platform pumps off of your aching feet, kissing the tops of your knees one at a time as you bent them to allow him to remove the torture devices on your feet. You mainly had no idea why you were so compliant, his hold over you was way too strong. Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t had a good orgasm in months and you knew he could give it to you.

“I can’t wait to taste you again baby.” Hoseok muttered and maneuvered his hands between your parted legs, taking hold of your thigh and lifting your left leg to bend it over his shoulder before reaching under your other thigh to lift you completely off of the ground and bend it over his other shoulder so you were sitting right in front of his face. You sighed, struggling to separate the intimate aspects of this from the romantic aspects and you decided, to do so, you weren’t gonna look at him as an attempt to remain detached from this devil of a man. After a few moments of still silence, you felt him snake his left arm around your thigh to stabilize you as he traced the pad of his thumb down your surprisingly wet slit. You hadn’t even noticed how turned on he made you as you gasped almost inaudibly, taking your bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on it nervously as you anticipated he would say something about it. “Already wet? Wow, you missed me more than I thought you did.” and you were right as you fought back the strong urge to roll your eyes.

“Hoseok-” you began to chastise until he cut you off.

“You can still call me hobi babe, don’t be shy.” You finally gave into the overwhelming urge and rolled your eyes, remembering the nicknames and all the great memories you shared with him despite promising yourself you wouldn’t do that so you changed the subject to avoid your unwanted feelings as you had done many times before when it came to memories of him being the topic of conversation.

“What about cocky bitch?” you retorted with an amused snort, earning a chaste slap to your right asscheek. You yelped, peering down at him as he smiled up through your thighs. You had to admit, he looked hilarious and a bit adorable with his face squished between your legs but you shrugged it off once more the avoidance of sentimental topics being the only thing on your mind as you cleared your throat.

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth.” He replied quite stupidly if you had to say so yourself. You chuckled, raising your eyebrows down at him as he grinned wider. He hadn’t seen your smile in six months, so he revelled in this chance he was given and just took the time to bask in the glow of your happiness, even if just for a moment. One of his favorite things to do was make you laugh and he took it for granted until he lost the chance to do it.

“Do you know how hypocritical you sound right now?” you asked, another laugh falling from your lips as he chuckled back heartily with a shrug that lifted your entire body as you had been sat completely on his shoulders. He moved his face closer to you, his smile never fading as he placed a quick kiss to your clit, your smile fading as you took a sharp intake of air.

“I miss hearing you laugh ____.” he murmured before licking a big stripe up your slit before you had the time to answer, your words getting caught in your throat and a moan escaping instead. “But that’s what I miss the most.” Your face heated up swiftly as your eyes darted frantically around the room. He was doing it again. That mental manipulation bullshit he pulled to get his way all the time. You recalled he used to convince you of anything while his dick or tongue was inside you because he knew you weren’t lucid enough to think about anything rationally. It sucked but it worked everytime, and you were going to make sure it didn’t work this time to the best of your ability. He flattened his tongue running it up and down your slit repeatedly, pushing the tip into your entrance a few times just to tease a bit as you whined softly, shutting your eyes harshly as he continued to speak. “You taste like heaven angel.” and you zone out as an attempt to block out his dangerously sweet words and only focus on his stimulation.

He kneaded the flesh of your ass carefully as he began to draw circles on your clit with his tongue, alternating between the tip and surface of the muscle as you leaned your head back onto the wall, feeling the pleasure just begin to build up. There weren't many things he had been good at regarding your relationship but this definitely had been one of his attributes. The man knew what he was doing. He puckered his lips around your pleasure bud, licking and flicking it with his tongue as he glanced up, just to catch a glimpse of how you reacted to his mouth. You began to slowly move your hips closer to his face as almost inaudible whimpers and mewls fell past your lips, as a reaction to his every move.

He released his lips from your heat, his tongue sticking out to swirl and curl on your wet center teasingly, the waves of pleasure increasing in intensity as they crashed on your shore, yet you still refused to look down at him as you felt his gaze stabbing into your face. The continuous movements of his tongue remained at a steady pace for a while as he inoculated a continuous stream of ecstasy to your core only to increase his speed incrementally as the time passed. He sucked harshly on your clit, drawing a silent whine from your lips as your mouth fell open while he hooked his right arm around your other thigh to get as close to you as possible. He flattened his tongue, shaking his head back from side to side as fast as your thighs would allow him to as you felt an orgasm approach, the feeling bubbling up in your stomach with every passing second as you moaned, one of the first, clear, audible moans accompanying the salacious lapping sounds echoing in the empty room which only spurred you on more.

“Cum on my tongue baby.” he muttered, the vibration and commanding tone only bringing you closer as you finally opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling. He always knew when you were about to cum because he studied the signs like religion while the two of you were together so he could tell from the very instant you felt an orgasm coming. He groaned into you, the sensation acting as the catalyst as you fell over the edge, your body convulsing as your thighs squeezed his face harshly. Hoseok used his arms to pull them apart so he could continue his attack on your cunt and he licked further down, catching the juices of your release with a satisfied groan. You believed he would slow to a halt once you had finished but oh how wrong you were as he continued lapping up your core, the moderate speed of his tongue never slowing for a mere second as he held onto your legs tightly. He waited while you squirmed to release yourself of his iron grip until the sting of your overload passed before he slowly unwound his right arm from your leg to bring his hand up to your dripping entrance. You shivered as the rough pads of his fingertips made contact with your wetness as he began to circle his index and ring fingers around the soaked hole and you gasped, the cries of your orgasm dying into repeated pants and moans as you felt his fingertips enter you slowly.

With almost no hesitation he slipped his slender fingers in, swiftly curling them inside you, your back arching off of the wall as he repeated his motions slowly, his fingers only adding to the feeling of his tongue stimulating your swollen pleasure bud. You lifted your hands which hung limply by your side up to your chest, attaching them to your bust as you began squeezing and fondling the sensitive mounds, teasingly running your fingers over your embarrassingly hard nipples that stood out proudly and wincing at the lascivious feeling it provided. The offensive noises leaving your lips one after the other were Hoseok’s main source of energy, the only thing keeping his heart, and fingers, (and tongue) pumping as he persevered, never growing tired of his favorite activity. Your face reddened at the x-rated noises provided by his fingers thrusting in and out of your tight cavern at an accelerated speed as he continued to shake his head furiously, his lips and tongue stimulating your clit constantly which is when you felt the euphoric pleasure of your second orgasm approach, the heat spreading through your limbs as you cried out in anticipation.

Breathing heavily, you fought off the urge to stare down into his wide brown eyes while he worked, the orgasm creeping up on you until mere moments later, it finally arrived, quicker than the first, probably because he used his fingers but you didn’t have the time nor the mental capacity to decipher the minutiae as you trembled harshly, your voice cracking as you called out a wanton cry of relief. The wave of heat that traveled through your limbs was almost debilitating as you released your hands from your chest to foozle with the hem of your dress, balling the fabric up in your hands. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the feeling of immense release and you stared up at the sleek gray fan that hung in the middle of the ceiling, still refusing to look down and hyperventilating as his pace still did not relent. This man was going to be the death of you.

He continued lapping up your clit, skillfully pumping his fingers in and out of you as your juices leaked out and onto the floor. You cried in overstimulation, your eyes closing as you released various noises of orgastic pleasure and you struggled to form any sort of coherent thought. Although, in an instant, all the commotion in your mind slowed as you heard a soft knock resonate from outside his door and you squirmed, trying to move away from his face as whoever was at the door knocked again, a bit more harshly this time. Your face contorted into an expression of complete horror at the thought of someone entering the room and catching a glimpse of the indecent scene. The pair of you looked absolutely obscene to say the least. Anyone who walked through the door, which was unlocked, would get an eyeful of your bare chest at first then catch a glimpse of the man that was knelt before you, devouring the treasure between your legs as if it were his last meal as you sat backwards against a wall, completely on his shoulders. The thought terrified you and your first thought was to get Hoseok’s attention.

“Hoseok…” you struggled out, trying to maintain your composure as he remained glued to your cunt feverishly. “Hoseok there… there’s someone-” you stopped, barely able to finish your sentence as you released a lustful whine, tilting your head back as you relished in the pleasurable feeling that passed through your body. He reluctantly removed his face from your pussy to your dismay as he looked up at you, the bottom of his face glistening with juices of your pleasure as he smirked up at your exhaustion. But to your surprise, his fingers did not waver in their pace as they curled, twisted, wound, and pumped in and out of your cunt. The feeling not nearly enough compared to his tongue, but it held you over as he addressed the interrupting party.

“What do you want?” he called out, your eyes widening as you realized he had no intention to stop pleasuring you to conduct business and would engage in casual conversation even as he was knuckle deep inside you, you wiggled around, earning a quick slap to your ass a he glared up at you, daring you to do something he wouldn’t like before listening to what the man outside the door had to say.

“I have the statements from yesterday's liquor shipment.” the man’s voice echoed from outside the door as your eyes travelled around the room nervously, afraid he might notice what’s going on inside the room. Hoseok’s grin returned as he lifted his thumb up to circle your clit, the sensitivity shocking you to say the least as you shook your head in his direction, knowing if he continued then you would surely cum.

“Oh, alright, does everything look correct?” Hoseok questioned calmly as you stared down at him in disbelief, salacious sounds of ecstasy falling from your lips with every movement of his hand. You felt your third orgasm approaching as you covered your mouth with your right hand, a muffled whine coming through when you caught a glimpse of the way he furrowed his brows and shook his head disapprovingly. You had often attempted to muffle your lecherous cries and whines when you were with him and he hated when you tried to stay silent. Your moans were akin to the heavenly songs of an angel, which lead him to the much adored nickname, and concealing them in his eyes would be the ultimate sin. You knew this fact entirely, so you hesitantly removed your hand, biting your lip to secretly mask the sounds of your approaching release.

“I’m gonna cum.” you whispered down to him as the man outside the door yelled an affirmative and Hoseok shrugged dismissively, his thumb moving back and forth in unison with his fingers that still curled in and out of you.

“Cum then.” he stated blankly before glancing over the door. You attempted to hold it back for as long as you could, but your willpower could never outrank his fingers and you felt the wildfire spread throughout your body at the speed of light, the feeling having your back arching and toes curling as you cried his name over and over, the ability to stay silent no longer in your control. You cried out, quickly becoming unaware of the man that was still standing outside the door waiting for an answer which was also a thought that left Hoseok’s mind as he stared up at you with a smile, completely awestruck by your beauty. He snapped out of his trance if only for a second before yelling out. “Okay, bring them to me later. I’m busy.” and returning his mouth to your cunt. At this point you really couldn’t take anymore as he replaced his thumb with his tongue, the wet muscle writhing on your clit once again as you skook and sobbed from the overstimulation, your breasts bouncing from the intensity of your trembling. You moaned his name over and over, tangling your fingers in his messy mop of brown hair as he chuckled into your heat, sending more vibrations of pleasure into your warmth, much more than you could possibly handle.

“Hoseok. Hoseok please it’s too much.” you cried out, shutting your eyes as your back lifted off of the wall in an attempt to get away from his punishing tongue, but he followed you with his face, even as your thighs squeezed his head so hard you’d think his skull would pop, but it didn’t and he persevered. “I can’t take anymore. I can’t-...” you sobbed out again, begging for him to stop or at least give you a break to come down from all the orgasms and pleasure he served to you. You shook your head exhaustedly, gripping onto his hair so hard your knuckles turned white as he groaned, probably in pain but he continued his actions unfazed.

“Look at me.” Hoseok commanded and you shook your head as you clenched your eyes shut, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs before you moaned quite loudly after feeling him land another quick slap to your bare bum. “I said fucking look at me.” he demanded and you obeyed, hesitantly staring down into the beautiful brown eyes of the man you were probably in love with as he devoured you. Hot mascara filled tears fell from your eyes but you weren’t sure if they were from the blatant overstimulation he was serving you or the untouched feelings that resurfaced once your eyes met. You told yourself you wouldn’t let him break you, but that was an obvious lie and you knew it, so you stared into his eyes, your resolve slipping by the moment as your release neared. “You can do it angel. Come on, one more time.” he egged you on, bringing you to the cusp of yet another orgasm as he talked you over the edge, his fingers thrusting mercilessly into your cunt as he ate you out relentlessly like it was his only job. “One more time baby, come for me one last time.” he continued, shaking his head rapidly as the feeling built up, much stronger than before and in no time, you were quite literally weeping as you shook and bucked against his face, basically screaming out as the ecstasy hit you like a train, knocking the energy out of you as your cries died down to silent pants.

He finally slowed his movements to a halt for the first time in a while as he reluctantly slipped his fingers out of you, your legs still shaking around his head. He smiled as he brought his fingers up, placing them in his mouth and licking them clean like he had many times before with a hot groan that had you smiling dumbly. Trailing his tongue around his mouth, he moved your thighs off his shoulders, propping you up on wobbly legs as you leaned against the wall tiredly, staring up at Hoseok in anticipation. He grinned triumphantly at you, snaking an arm around your waist and leaning in to capture your lips in a passion filled kiss, his tongue delivering the taste of your juices into your mouth as you sighed, unable to lie to yourself anymore. You missed him, and you knew it the entire time, you just didn’t want to deal with his bullshit so you shoved your feelings deep down where you hopefully didn’t have to face them. He obviously saw right through you from the day you broke up with him, but he decided to give you your space, figuring you’d come back to him when he was ready. That plan hadn’t worked out because it was obvious you weren’t going to approach him directly, your pride probably playing a huge part in that fact, so he decided to make his move, just to prove his point that you still wanted him.

“You did so good for me angel. You think you can keep going?” he questioned, holding the side of your face carefully as you nodded in response, figuring you needed a moment for your nerves to relax after that attack to realize you wanted all of him, and you wanted it bad. It was obvious he wanted you too when he pulled you flush against his body and you felt his painfully hard erection press into your lower abdomen. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you on my desk just like I used to?” he continued as you nodded compliantly once more. “Words baby.”

“I want you to fuck me on your desk. Please Hobi. I did so good for you.” you pleaded, to which he groaned, leaning down and sucking hard on the exposed mound perched on the right side of your chest, leaving a mark as he began a trail of open mouths kisses up as your eyes fluttered at the feeling. “Please.” you breathed out softly placing your hands on his sides with a deep breath, preparing yourself. He kissed higher and higher up the side of your neck, abruptly stopping once he got to your ear as he bit softly on the lobe, whispering in your ear almost inaudibly.

“I told you you’d be begging for me again angel.” he purred, giving your overstimulated clit a quick tap. You yelped, staring at him questioningly as he turned and strode out of his office, shutting the door behind him and leaving you in absolute silence. You shook your head, taking in what just occurred with a quick inhale as you stared around the room with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on your face.

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked as you leaned tiredly against the wall, staring at the door he just walked out of as you slowly processed the occurrences of that night.

[lokigodofaces]

Y’all I had this dream where for some reason at the end of Loki Variant!Loki decided he had to save Main!Loki. It was because Loki was the only one that could save the main universe from something along the road, but it would get messy for some reason if Variant!Loki came to deal with it. So V!Loki decided to save M!Loki from dying at the hands of Thanos, but he had to do it in a way that would work seemlessly and not make too big of a time mess.

So V!Loki studied the events leading up to M!Loki’s death and was trying to figure out what to do when Mobius said that if M!Loki didn’t die it would cause all these problems because then Infinity War and Endgame wouldn’t play out right. Basically, things would go differently if Loki was there with Thor. So now V!Loki has to figure this out because he has to make sure IW and EG go about the same while saving M!Loki. 

So V!Loki decides to take M!Loki’s place. Sometime in between the destruction of Asgard and Thanos’ attack on the Statesman, V!Loki swaps M!Loki out for himself. Logically, I think a good place would be right before/after the scene where Thor and Loki see each other for the first time on the Statesman, and Loki shows that he is actually there and it isn’t an illusion. But that wasn’t included in my dream, that’s just me now thinking that would be a good time to make the switcheroo. 

So V!Loki kidnaps M!Loki and takes M!Loki’s place, and is killed by Thanos while keeping a stunning act up. No one thought he wasn’t the right Loki. Which is perfect. Obviously, V!Loki had to do something about M!Loki. Otherwise, M!Loki would go to Earth or wherever either during IW or after IW but before EG (depends travel time), which would change events. And V!Loki has a plan to keep M!Loki out of trouble until it is safe for him to come out. He has to take M!Loki off of the Statesman because otherwise M!Loki could die in the Power Stone incited explosion in IW. 

So V!Loki uses magic to knock out M!Loki who is not expecting to be attacked magically at all. Plus, V!Loki uses a type of magic that the Lokis are vulnerable to (I’m sorry, my dream did not explain magic lore lol) so M!Loki was basically screwed. V!Loki also put a spell on M!Loki that stopped him from using magic, just in case. So V!Loki is about to drag M!Loki off of the Statesman and to Chronyca. But then Hulk wanted to talk to Loki so V!Loki has to shove M!Loki into a space closet (that for some reason looked like the closet in Tangled? Just more futuristic and different colors.) Hulk was nice and said he didn’t want to smash Loki which was actually pretty sweet and V!Loki was thanking anyone that was listening because he’s from 2012 and had just barely been Hulk smashed. 

Hulk leaves, but M!Loki wakes up and is opening the closet door (I’m just realizing now that he was really now out for long). So V!Loki shapeshifts into some other form (he looked like an old man, kind of like Dick van Dyke in Night at the Museum) because it would be a little problematic if M!Loki knew he was being kidnapped by himself. M!Loki knew that he couldn’t use his magic, and he knew that he was kinda screwed, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He tried to manipulate V!Loki into a position that would give M!Loki an advantage, but he didn’t realize he was literally trying to manipulate himself. Which didn’t work out so well for him. Anyway, after a little knife skirmish and failed attempt to get help, M!Loki is once again knocked out by V!Loki. 

V!Loki skedaddles out of there, unconscious M!Loki in tow. V!Loki does more magic every once in a while to keep M!Loki asleep because dude just burns through magic sedation apparently. So V!Loki is stuck looking like Dick van Dyke, just in case M!Loki wakes up and sees him. At this point M!Loki is restrained because you can’t just not restrain him if you are kidnapping him. He isn’t an idiot, he’s ready to fight his kidnapper, and even if he could just mess with a couple buttons he could sabotage the ship. Better safe than sorry. After a while, V!Loki gets tired of constantly magically sedating M!Loki. He’s tied up, can’t do magic, and V!Loki has the advantage because M!Loki doesn’t know it’s another version of himself that is kidnapping himself. So he’s not too worried about M!Loki being awake while tied up (and blindfolded? He might have been though I’m not sure anymore). So M!Loki tries to get information off of his kidnapper but V!Loki just says that he needs M!Loki’s help with something, which isn’t actually a lie, he does need help with, oh, you know, saving the universe. So M!Loki is freaking out because nothing has happened like this since Thanos. He knows that unless something big changes he isn’t going to be able to escape and if this guy needs his help, he could be willing to torture him for it. He’s already kidnapped him and disabled Loki’s magic, who knows what else will happen. M!Loki says something about Thor because M!Loki had already established that he was sticking around, and now he’s gone. So he’s hoping that Thor won’t just think M!Loki ran off or whatever and will actually be concerned and know there’s a problem, but he’s honestly not so sure about that. And then V!Loki says that won’t be a problem, meaning that he can just use time travel to go back to the second after he leaves, so it’ll be like he never left. M!Loki takes this to mean that something happened to the remaining Asgardians and is worried about that. So now he’s freaking out over what he thinks happened to Thor and what he thinks will happen to him.

And M!Loki is pretty good and concealing his emotions and makes it look like he’s just a little fidgety because he’s tied up, but V!Loki sees the signs because he too would do something similar in that situation. So he’s feeling bad because this alternate future version of himself is on the brink of a panic attack and he is 99% this has something to do with Thanos, one of the experiences the two Lokis share, so he knows what M!Loki must be feeling. But V!Loki knows this is necessary so he deals with it. 

So they get to Chronyca. Chronyca is home of the chronicons, a race that observes and studies other races but never interferes, unless it is to prevent an extinction level threat (we see them in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.). So the chronicons are pretty suspicious about this random Dick van Dyke dude that shows up. V!Loki leaves M!Loki tied up in the ship and goes to the chronicons and turns back into V!Loki and has some TVA device that shows them what will happen if M!Loki dies and explains his plan to the chronicons. Seeing as this is preventing an extinction level threat of many peoples, the chronicons agree to help. 

V!Loki shapeshifts back to Dick van Dyke lookalike and goes onto the ship where M!Loki is (I’m pretty sure M!Loki was blindfolded now, but V!Loki still is shapeshifted in front of him just in case) and tells M!Loki something along the lines of everything being alright, and that M!Loki doesn’t have to panic. Well, as you can imagine, M!Loki doesn’t take this well. How would you react if you were kidnapped and your kidnapper said that it would be okay and that you don’t need to panic? Thinking that he’s going to go through a Thanos-like experience again, he promises that he’ll fight back and won’t be compliant. V!Loki says that he respects that and that M!Loki better tell anyone else that kidnaps him in the future the same thing. V!Loki knows about Thanos and still isn’t sure how he’d react in a similar situation because it had just barely happened to him whereas M!Loki has had years to sorta recover. V!Loki knocks M!Loki out to get him off the ship, but figures that M!Loki will wake up one more time before the next stage of the plan is put into action. 

The chronicons put M!Loki inside a chamber they use to send chronicons to distant planets they observe, which can double as a cryofreeze chamber (like in AoS). V!Loki takes the spell off M!Loki that stops him from using his powers. The chronicons strap M!Loki inside the chamber, tying him down, and V!Loki then enchants the straps to stop M!Loki from using magic. V!Loki waits until M!Loki wakes up, startled by the change of setting, no longer blindfolded. M!Loki is full on panicking now because this is the same position he was in when Thanos first tortured him, and V!Loki knows this and feels so bad that he is putting another version of himself through a panic attack. V!Loki uses magic to calm M!Loki’s mind and gives his final farewells. Tells him good luck, apologizes for this mess, and tells him that everything will be alright, and that the chronicons will keep him safe. Then he closes the chamber and turns the cryofreeze on, and in a few seconds M!Loki is in a coma. 

The chronicons promise to keep M!Loki safe until it is safe for him to be awakened. They set a timer on the chamber for six or seven years, and when the timer runs out the chamber will turn off and M!Loki will be awakened. It is possible that M!Loki will be snapped away by Thanos, but as long as they keep the chamber in the same position it was in whenn M!Loki was snapped, he would return there in five years and everything would be fine. The plan was to drop M!Loki off somewhere away from Chronyca with resources (food, water, ship, fuel) to get somewhere else. There would be a few chronicons to make sure everything went well and that he gets out safely. And if M!Loki does spot them, they’d tell him that in order to prevent extinctions they would at times interfere, and that a time travelling friend told them of a threat only Loki could stop, but he couldn’t stop if he was killed by Thanos. So the time traveler took Loki’s place to save him from Thanos and save the universe. 

And then he has to learn about IW and EG and he feels bad that he couldn’t do more but it wasn’t his fault and he feels bad that someone died for him but it wasn’t like he was given a choice. So then he has to go find Thor because he doesn’t think anyone else could possibly believe him (even with a message from V!Loki in the van Dyke disguise explaining the plan) and that’s how Loki ends up in Love and Thunder.

Like, absolutely crazy plot going on here, and I doubt it would ever happen in the MCU, but it would be cool.

[leupagus]

It's the Mileage pt. 3, aka seriously Zach can't catch a break

More from the Twink Nightingale Verse (Nightentwink? Twinkengale?) because I'm waiting on betas for my next It's Complicated chapter and I might as well write this scene that I've been imagining in some form or another since Peter mentioned it back in The Hanging Tree:

*

Another problem I’d started to notice was how Tommy would sort of… randomly not be able to do the job. Or if he did, the consequences were so catastrophic that I had to do everything, anyway.

It wasn’t laziness, whatever you might think about the aristocracy (he swears up and down to this day that he’s not any sort of a minor duke or anything, but I’m understandably suspicious). It was flat out just — well, it was weird, is what it was.

The first time it happened was a couple months into our probation. We’d been called to deal with some sort of argy-bargy at a pub near St. James’s (or maybe St. James’, I can never remember the rules about the apostrophe), but once we’d arrived Tommy had balked like a scandalised goat.

'I can’t go in,' he said.

'I… think you’ll find you can,' I said. I could hear shouting and, worse yet, I couldn’t hear music. Usually they only cut the sound once the fighting has progressed to things that involve words like 'contusions.' I wanted to avoid contusions, but that wasn’t going to happen if Tommy was about to reveal a sudden-onset phobia of belligerent drunks.

'Yes, I suppose I can, but it would be an extremely bad idea for me to do so,' he said, with the kind of rapid-fire clipped speech that I already recognised as him being nervous about something.

'It’s a bunch of chavs having a bad Friday night.' Somewhere in the pub a glass broke. 'Or a bad Tuesday night,' I amended. 'I promise to beat up anyone who has a go at you.'

'No one will make any such attempt, of that I can assure you,' he said, fiddling with his shirt cuffs — he wore the standard uniform shirt, but he’d gotten them altered so that they could take cufflinks, which by the time I noticed, didn’t surprise me. 'Kay, please trust me when I say that you would be far better off going in there by yourself.' And he lifted his chin to show that he really meant it.

The thing about Tommy, though, is that he folds like wet cardboard if you give him any kind of pleading look. I hadn’t asked but I’d reckoned that he was the youngest of his family. Older siblings catch wise to this kind of emotional manipulation.

So he came down with me after all. It was the worst kind of fight, the kind where two people are sincerely trying to kill each other and the crowd’s egging them on. I started wading through, tossing spectators out of the way so I could get to the two in the centre. One of them was a skinny ginger arsehole with, of course, a broken bottle in his hand; the other was a short squat guy with his hair in unflattering cornrows, holding a crowbar. I didn’t really fancy getting in between them, but the stab vest has gone from stab-resistant to stab-proof in the past few years, and most of your run-of-the-mill drunken sots don’t know where the gaps are.

Still, I thought I’d try some vocal calming techniques first. 'Oi!' I bellowed. 'Put the fucking weapons down!'

I’m used to people shouting back at me, or even taking a swing. But neither of them even seemed to notice. Nor did the audience; the people I’d pushed out of the way had swarmed back, and I was swallowed up into the crowd. Not just figuratively, either; I felt like I was being consumed. Violence and blood and fear and excitement — I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, in the stutter of my heart. The fighters were closing with each other again, ready to strike, and I had to watch, I couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but wait for it—

'Drop your weapons,' came a voice from behind me. 'Now.'

To be fair, they did — not just the fighters, but everyone in the pub, a clattering rainstorm of knives and blunt instruments and several firearms which, thank fuck, didn’t go off. I almost dropped my fucking baton before realising that the voice must’ve been Tommy’s, even though it hadn’t exactly sounded like him.

There was a pause while the crowd, the fighters, the bartender, everyone turned toward Tommy, stood still in the doorway. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, but the whole pub backed up a step.

And then another, and then they fucking stampeded out toward the back of the pub, knocking over tables and chairs and smaller patrons. There was yelling and a few screams and someone shouted 'the nightingale!' Then they were gone, like water down the tub drain. I could almost hear the faint sucking sound as the last of them scrambled off.

I hadn’t managed to grab hold of a single one of them, but I noticed the bartender was still here, glaring daggers at Tommy with his arms over his chest. He was another skinny guy, in his mid-forties maybe, the kind who never learned to sit still and so had made a career out of being high-strung and twitchy.

'Ten years,' he squawked, flailing his hands as he came out from around the bar. ’Ten years and not so much as a fucking postcard, you know there was a dead pool going round? And now I’m out of pocket five grand because you wanted to make an impression?'

'Dead pool?' asked Tommy, with the sort of polite interest he usually uses when he’s pretending to listen to our governor talk about his beagles.

The bartender wagged his finger in Tommy’s face. 'You tell your boyfriend that I’m putting all of this on his tab, all right?'

'We are not romantically involved, regardless of whatever rumours you and Stephen put about,' said Tommy. 'And if you want to bill the — police, you’re always welcome to open a small claims dispute with the Department of Professional Standards. However, please remember that I have a witness that can verify I merely asked that people drop their weapons.'

The bartender looked around and seemed to notice me for the first time. Which was a new experience for me, I’ll admit. I tend to get noticed right off. 'Oh — oh,' he said, and gave me a broad smile. 'Well, hello there, darling.'

'Zach,' and now Tommy’s voice sounded different, a bit like before but not exactly. It worked, though; the bartender gave a huff and went off to, I guessed, find a broom.

'Who’s that?' I asked, once he was out of earshot. 'And what was he talking about, ten years?'

'That,' he said, 'Is Zachary Palmer. An old friend of the family, I suppose you’d say,' He gazed after him for a few moments before turning back to me. 'So — what is a dead pool? I thought it was a comic book character or a film or some such.'

'You’re like the world’s shittiest time traveller,' I complained. Later on, Tommy would do some tests to see if I had some sort of clairvoyance ability or something. Jury’s still out, but I think mostly he was just pissed off that I’d managed such a sick burn without even knowing it.

[cureicy]

I love bsd wan because not only does it provide me with much needed serotonin in the form of cute chibi antics, it has some excellent and easy to understand characterization that doesn’t require an entire meta essay to figure out.

First episode: we see more of Atsushi being internally snarky about Dazai’s laziness, discover that Yosano enjoys wine, and Ranpo really likes small spaces full of food to hang out. Second episode: Higuchi is really trying her best to be helpful to everyone at work, and Kyouka’s need to be useful to others sometimes comes into competition with Atsushi’s. I think there’s an argument to be made for neurodivergent Higuchi, honestly; she sometimes misses social cues, hyperfixates on tasks, and has deep seated trauma from being considered useless that she copes with by becoming a people pleaser at the expense of her own health

Fourth episode, we see more of Akutagawa’s intense loyalty to Dazai, but also that Atsushi is passive aggressive and would rather avoid arguments than explain himself. Rather than openly telling Akutagawa “Dazai sent me here to act as the intermediary and deliver the groceries to him,” he just walks away and decides that finding him again is Akutagawa’s problem. He’s usually confrontational, but because of their work sanctioned partnership, he’s just...tired of being forced to work together. So he decides to take the moral high ground because he doesn’t want Akutagawa to have it. And then, when they get in a fight over whether Akutagawa is keeping his promise not to kill, Atsushi stalks him to make sure he’s fulfilling it, then feels bad about doubting him. And the really interesting bit-- he buys him pork buns as an apology, and calls Akutagawa a pig for snatching them up so fast with his ability. But both of them grew up hungry; beast has shown us that they can get along quite well and relate to each other if they meet on equal footing. If Atsushi knew about Akutagawa’s past, I wonder if he would have had the same reaction; if he would have sympathized with hoarding food like you don’t know where your next meal will come from. Then there’s the horror stories episode, in which we see that Kunikida has an extremely unhealthy outlook on work/life balance, Dazai and Kyouka are a bit hit-or-miss on stories that are both appropriate for work and unrelated to mafia trauma, and atsushi’s worst fear is being unable to trust his own perception. Kunikida is scared of failure, Kyouka no longer has a normal fear response because ~emotional repression~, Dazai is really fucking tired and probably needs to look into chronic fatigue as a symptom of PTSD, and Atsushi has been manipulated and gaslit so much that he no longer trusts his own mind to tell him what’s real or not. (That would actually make a good angst/horror fic; atsushi keeps seeing strange things, but can’t tell if they’re hallucinations or not.)

On a lighter note, let’s look at the school AUs. Episode five confirmed that Dazai’s basically a melodramatic chuunibyou, and while he and Chuuya will get into fights with each other, they still care. They’re just tsundere and have no idea how to express affection. And the preschool AU about Dazai getting bullied by four year olds and obsessing over a children’s cartoon was, first of all, a big mood, and second of all, showed that Ranpo has trouble relating to kids his own age and is lonely. Kyouka is creative, but has trouble expressing herself to others and gets disheartened when she isn’t understood. That might explain her blunt manner of speaking later in the series-- when she first meets Atsushi, she introduces herself, explains what she’s done, and expects him to understand her guilt. But he can’t comprehend what she means until she says “I don’t want to kill anyone anymore!” and leaps out the window. They have a really interesting and underexplored dynamic where they care deeply about each other, but don’t have a broad enough worldview to understand each other. And so Atsushi sees Kyouka as an innocent victim of a horrible and cruel person, and Kyouka sees Atsushi as a kind and pure savior who needs to be protected from doing harm, and they don’t truly understand how complex the other is. But they try their best to show affection in the ways that they know how.

tldr, wan explores characterization in simple and easy to understand ways and despite being a cutesy spinoff, it can provide a better understanding of canon

additions to this post are welcome! i’ve likely missed some things and would love to discuss <3

[sadachmesarthim]

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it. 

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis​ !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands) 

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!! 

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky. 

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up. 

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another. 

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia. 

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future. 

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting. 

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately. 

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything. 

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing. 

Steve saw it as devotion. 

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased. 

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous  - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset. 

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew. 

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service. 

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won. 

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”  

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.” 

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.” 

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt. 

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes. 

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately. 

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion. 

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage. 

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place. 

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts. 

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved. 

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time. 

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. 

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom. 

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him. 

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time. 

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour. 

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway. 

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve. 

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him. 

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact. 

Bucky knew better. 

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it. 

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people. 

Bucky was fucked. 

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home. 

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all. 

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again. 

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back. 

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear. 

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs. 

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him. 

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything. 

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help.  No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency. 

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him. 

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow. 

If he did, he'd get rewarded. 

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.  

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem. 

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one. 

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried. 

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation. 

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything. 

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him. 

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years? 

Bucky didn't know anymore. 

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all. 

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before. 

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you." 

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right? 

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random. 

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell. 

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed. 

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far. 

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise. 

They went entirely unused. 

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve. 

And breakfast now, apparently. 

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve. 

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe. 

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters. 

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit. 

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody. 

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe. 

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him. 

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking. 

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing. 

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky. 

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

[dadsbongos]

Brother’s Keeper

Movie/Game/Show: The Boy Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: idk The Veldt spoilers if you’ve never read it (it’s really fucking good), the parents suck and they’re emotionally manipulative Summary: Brahms likes to play with his baby sister. ~~~

“What a pouty little face you have,” Mrs. Heelshire pinched at her daughter’s cheeks, stretching them upward, “Come on, let me see a smile.”

(Y/n) swatted at her mother’s hands, “I don’t want to.”

Brahms adjusted his tie as best he could for the family picture, letting his father take over after a minute of fumbling, “She’s not going to smile; little brat.”

“Hey!” the three-year-old girl whined, lips pulling into an even deeper pout, “You can’t be mean and the birthday boy at the same time, it’s not fair!”

The boy rolled his eyes, “You’re just upset your birthday isn't for five more months.”

~~

“I’m seven, I’m too old for dolls,” (Y/n) muttered, not wanting to mention why exactly she didn’t want the porcelain doll, “Besides, he’s too fragile, if I drop him he’ll die.”

Death was a new fascination with the young girl after the incident. Though, to be fair, most fascinations didn’t last four years nor did they start with the horrific death of your older brother.

“Nonsense,” her father grinned, taking the doll from his wife and holding it out to his young daughter, “he was Brahms’ favorite.”

Brahms was a word that had become similar to “fuck” in the parents’ minds. Off-limits by the punishment of spanking or grounding unless you were one of them.

“Oh,” she murmured, carefully taking the toy and holding it to her side, “I never saw him play with it…”

“Too scared to break the poor thing,” Mrs. Heelshire reasoned easily enough, “Named after him.”

(Y/n) looked at the glassy object, “Why do I need to have him?”

“You’re going to take care of him, Brahms would want you to,” Mr. Heelshire brushed the girl’s hair from her forehead before leaving a small kiss to the patch of skin, “Be good to him, sweetheart, won’t you?”

Mrs. Heelshire nodded from behind her husband, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint Brahms, would you?”

She glanced between her pleading parents and the doll, pursing her lips before hesitantly nodding, “Alright, I guess…”

~~

By the time 1999 rolled around and the only living Heelshire child was to turn eleven, there were no more friends to play in the house with. Emily, who in many ways had been an older sister to the girl, was murdered by some sick monster who lit the playhouse she was inside on fire. Well, maybe the killer didn’t light the playhouse on fire.

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?”

Instead, (Y/n) was left to play with her doll. With a party hat on her head, courtesy of the new grocery boy, Malcolm, she wandered aimlessly through the halls. Birthdays were no longer a celebration in the manor; unless it was Brahms’, of course. She held the doll to her hip, looking at the series of paintings decorating the wall; most of them portraying her big brother.

She frowned, settling a hand on the wall just below the largest mural in the hall. Her fingers brushed upon a small crevice dip in the split of colors in the striped wallpaper, brows furrowing at the ledge. She curled her fingers around it, beginning to pull when suddenly it popped apart from the wall. A panel opening up in the middle of the hallway, she looked down each end before climbing through.

Her eyes adjusted quickly enough, arms squeezing Brahms tighter to her form. She began creeping down the secret passageway, not noticing the sounds of her parents screaming her name.

A sudden turn and she took it. A curve in the path and she rounded it. Losing herself in the hidden walkways within her home. It was only when she realized how lost she was that panic settled in, “Mama…?”

She held Brahms even tighter, freehand leaving the doll to bang on the interior of the wall, “Papa! Mama?!” 

It was half an hour before the panicking parents found their weeping little girl hidden behind a panel close to the fireplace. She was crying into the sweater on her doll, cheeks heated in the force of her tears. Not even Mr. Heelshire’s gentle hugging and cooing could relieve her of the emotional aches.

“You’re to never go in those walls again, do you hear me?” her mother grit through clenched teeth.

Never? As much as (Y/n) wanted to be on board with the idea, she wasn’t sure about never being able to go in again. Maybe… maybe she just had to be older, more mature - yeah - that sounded about right.

“Just once more,” she immediately calmed down, now speaking through a raspy, whiny post-crying voice, “I won’t get lost this time, I promise.”

Mr. Heelshire looked over to his wife, “Just one more couldn’t hurt, she should learn about the walls, shouldn’t she?”

As soon as the words left her husband’s lips, Mrs. Heelshire shook her head, “Not a chance. Haven’t you read The Veldt? That’s how the parents die.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened, glancing between her parents as tears began springing into the surface, “You guys will die if I go in the walls again?”

Neither parent confirmed it, though they didn’t deny it either, before sending her off to bed with Brahms. Leaving her to question what the walls were in the dark solitude of her lavish bedroom; empty winnings for a girl who felt guilty enjoying them.

~~

By fifteen, there was an influx of nannies coming in and out of the Heelshire home to care for a supposedly haunted doll. She wasn’t sure if she believed it but the messes and thumping and flickering lights were beginning to be too much to ignore. They all started after the wall incident - the second incident she could add to her fault - and she was forbidden from going back inside.

Panels were left open and soft, high-pitched whines ringing from behind them; it was more terrifying than alluring. 

With no more Brahms by her side, in the real body or in doll form, (Y/n) was left to wander aimlessly down the halls thinking about how unfair it was of her parents to rip the doll away from her. All due to the walls’ tunnels.

They handed her a memento to her older brother - they used her guilt; her fault against her - just to steal it away eight years later. She hated her parents for it, no, not her parents. Her mother. Mrs. Heelshire barely even let the nannies do their job half the time, she just wanted Brahms all to herself. She gave that doll a surplus of her attention and countless replacement caretakers and never even gave (Y/n) the acknowledgment of their shared grief.

Barely gave her the mind to say, “It’s not your fault.”

Whipping around at the frail whisper, (Y/n) peeked around every visible inch of the hallway to see if one of the nannies was following her or her father was finally ready to free her of guilt. Yet nobody was there, no mouths to whisper and no audible drafts to blame.

She turned back around and continued walking down the hallway, not as alone as before.

~~

“I’m nineteen, don’t you think I should, I don’t know, explore the real world?”

Mrs. Heelshire simply shook her head, “You can’t leave us!”

“I won’t be leaving!” (Y/n) tossed her arms out in a display of exaggeration, “I just can’t be in this house for the rest of my life!”

“So you will go eventually,” the older woman huffed, crossing her arms, “Brahms and now you.”

That made the teenager freeze. Nothing like the mention of her dead brother to make her question herself. She pulled back from the yelling match to judge and critique every inch of herself. Her leaving the nest wasn’t comparable to dying - and Brahms didn’t abandon them, he couldn’t control the flames. It wasn’t like he purposefully lit the playhouse on fire at his own birthday party.

No, but she could’ve stopped it. She knows she could have.

“That’s not fair,” (Y/n) muttered, though it sounded less like a genuine response and more like she was trying to point it out to herself.

“You know what else isn’t fair?”

“Don’t.”

“Having two kids and the only one alive wants to abandon you.”

Mr. Heelshire watched from the kitchen table, sipping on his afternoon tea quietly to give more space for the sound of his wife and daughter’s argument to permeate through the room. Through the room and into the walls where even the biggest rat hiding inside could hear.

(Y/n) rubbed at her arm, regretting her decision to even bring the topic up, “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Heelshire cooed, cupping her daughter’s cheeks and pulling at any fat her fingers could get to in the pockets, “It’s okay. Don’t be so pouty, it’s alright.”

She didn’t bother pushing her mother’s hands away this time.

~~

(Y/n) silently dipped her paintbrush into a dollop of vibrant, cherry red on her palette, glancing over her canvas to the muse every so often.

A house can appear incredibly eased and soothed from the frontline and nobody would ever know that inside a family of four was being murdered. They wouldn’t know until the corpses were discovered and the extended family was beating at each other. Vultures flocking to the values left to them by death.

Maria, the newest in the line of nannies, was holding position rather well for somebody who’d never modeled before. Clutching Brahms to her hip with a bright, pearly-toothed smile.

“I saw a few of your works around the house earlier,” the black-haired woman spoke, “Impressive for only twenty-three.”

“Thanks,” (Y/n) strained a grin, she didn’t necessarily prefer silence - you could hear the walls whispering when it was silent - but sadly, her focus wavered with noise, “I just like to paint the nannies; don’t like to forget them so quickly.”

“Oh,” Maria awkwardly chuckled, “well, that sounds nice of you…?”

“Just a personal thing,” the young woman shrugged off before catching something in the frame of her eye, “You’re about to drop Brahms.”

“Shit!” the other woman murmured, readjusting the doll in her arms, “Thank you so much.”

“My mom will go crazy, I don’t want to watch her yell at somebody over nothing,” she pursed her lips, “Not nothing; just something small.”

~~

“Are you serious?” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes at her mother, “You and Dad are leaving for a two-month vacation right before my birthday?”

“You’re turning twenty-eight, dear,” Mrs. Heelshire smiled faintly, “I think you’ll be fine, now if you don’t mind, I’ll go downstairs and teach the new nanny how to properly care for Brahms.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms, watching her father continue to pack his bags, “You’re really just letting her drag you out of town right now?”

“She didn’t drag me into anything, honey,” he sighed, whether he knew how much it hurt her feelings to hear that or not didn’t exactly matter.

“Fuck you,” she grumbled, rushing out of the room and down the stairs, the twenty-seven-year-old woman went into her bedroom, fully prepared to ignore her parents and the new nanny. Blissfully unaware of the pest in her walls, watching with sad eyes and wanting to see her smile.

~~

“Knock it off!” (Y/n) cried out to the man swinging the doll around - a protective instinct burning at her gut as she thought of him breaking it. She immediately regretted the harsh tone when Cole’s furious gaze snapped back to her, “Please… just give him back…”

“Watch it,” Cole threatened, holding the doll further away from her than before, “Pull any funny shit and I’ll break in your pretty little face.”

Yet another mistake against the brute, not that anybody but the secret rat was counting. The first, of course, being his arrival. The last, naturally, was bashing the doll’s head against the lip of a seat.

(Y/n) hiccuped wildly, her burst of tears nearly choking her as Cole shushed the room during one of Brahms’ fits. She’d experienced countless ragers with that doll to blame but this was the worst. Cole put a finger to his lips, commanding the people behind him into silence as he went to the wall, knocking a few times with his ear pressed to it. He went to the mirror next, grinning slightly, “There’s something- “

Before he could finish his sentence, the glass burst apart and forced him onto his back.

As Greta screamed and (Y/n) held her head in her hands in the midst of her hysterics, Malcolm called to the two women.

Large hands pulled onto the mirror frame first, then out came a fully grown man. Brahms Heelshire was alive - and he was big.

(Y/n) fell onto her ass, watching as her previously dead big brother stabbed Colt in the neck with a piece of his broken doll. Brahms lunged for Greta only to be beaten down by Malcolm and when the two were away; (Y/n) did not leave.

She crawled over to his sprawled out form, taking his shoulder into her hands and shaking him slightly, “Brahms…?”

He jerked once - then twice, then pushed himself up, taking a moment to look at his little sister before standing. In a fashion similar to when they used to sneak around the manor as children, he pressed a finger to his mask’s lips before running off.

~~

“I came back for you, Brahms.”

(Y/n) fiddled with her fingers as her older brother was swept upstairs by Greta, following after them like a lost puppy. As Greta pulled back the covers, (Y/n) felt her heart thump wildly in her chest.

Of course, it never helped when he threw a woman across the room.

“Brahms!” (Y/n) shrieked, latching onto her brother’s back and attempting to pull him off Greta, only succeeding when he fell back from his own stab wound.

Greta stopped at the doorway, turning to watch as the Heelshire girl cradled her big brother’s head in her hands in her panic-rich state, “(Y/n), come on. We have to go.”

Looking between Greta and her brother, (Y/n) felt the memories creep back up from the dip of her spine.

“Is that Papa’s lighter?”

Emily nodded slightly as Brahms watched the flame flicker, the little boy speaking up first, “I was interested in it, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

(Y/n) clutched at a lock of her own hair, “You better give it back or I’ll take it myself!”

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?” he scoffed before shooing her out of the playhouse, “If you tell Dad, I’ll break all your toys and cut up your dresses.”

She hadn’t told Father - she didn’t take the lighter.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) looked back to her older brother, burn scars on the visible half of his face and suddenly the guilt was rising to her throat again. Her hands smoothed over to the clasp of the mask, carefully unclipping it as Greta ran off to find Malcolm. A wicked sob racked her throat, her voice squeaking up soft and whiny, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

A hand came up to brush her tears away, Brahms watching his little sister continue to cry, a small, childlike voice peeking through his lips, “Please don’t cry, (Y/n)… I don’t want to see you cry…”

Calming down only slightly, (Y/n) helped her brother sit up, “I’ll stay, I’m sorry.”

Brahms continued to watch his sister’s tears spill, “You’ll stay.”

It wasn’t a question, he barely even bothered to disguise it as such.

“I’ll stay…”

She didn’t really have a choice, not when her parents kept her under lock and key so strictly. But maybe they anticipated Brahms coming back; maybe they wanted her to have no independence so she wouldn’t leave her big brother.

Not that she’d be able to ask them.

[siriuslyshewrote]

no one wants to dance anymore - f.s

Platonic! Finn Shelby x Shelby!Sister , Isaiah Jesus x Shelby!Sister

Warnings - swearing, talking of maternal death, talk of drug use, and verbal abuse

A/N - Finn and YN are probably 16/17 in this one

Word Count - 2,965

4:17 AM , Christmas Eve, 1925

The Shelby house was never quiet, had never been quiet , not since Rosalie Shelby had her children - Arthur, then Tommy, then the others. It had always been a house of chaos and mayhem, one of arguments and yells, of tears and makeups.

But in all the time the Shelby family had been alive, they had never heard an argument like this.

The Shelby twins - Finn and Y/N - had been practically attatched at the hip since birth, and since then, they'd barely ever argued , only frustrated snipes every once in a while. They were sixteen now, at that age where they frustrated Polly to no end , by constantly sneaking out and going drinking and smoking at the Garrison, though she never worried about them, not really - what reason did she have to be worried? They had each other's backs. And so, Polly was surprised, and none too happy, to be woken up in the early hours of Christmas Eve morn, by angered yells and screams downstairs.  She could hear a babies cries too - probably John's newborn, woken up by the noise. It was typical, for this to happen, when all the siblings and their families were crowded into the terraced house they grew up in, a tradition for the family on Christmas Eve and Day.

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

"You are a fucking hypocrite Finn Shelby!" You hissed loudly, as he leant against the doorframe, that arrogant smirk on his face, though you knew well it was just a front for his anger. "Always bitching about Tommy's drug use and fucking Arthur's and Johnny's and then you do this?! Actually, less of a hypocrite and more of a down right arsehole!" Your voice raised on the last word, as you threw up your hands in frustration.

You'd always hated drugs, ever since you were a small child. You'd grown up around drug use - first your Pa, then, when the war was over, your brothers became enthralled in it too - the way it helped them forget the horrors they had seen. To you though , the person who had never seen the horrors, all you saw was the people you loved falling apart in front of your very eyes. You and Finn had made a pact when you could have only be ten or eleven, to never be like them. Not in that way. And here was Finn - half high off his mind on snow, but coming down from it very fast.

"I'm the arsehole?" His voice was louder than yours, more fuelled by alcohol and drugs, and you were certain you would wake up your family soon, but you were so angry you couldn't care less. "You are the one who shagged my best friend!"

Ah yes. The reason all of this began. You had been so upset, when you saw your brother at the Garrison a few hours ago - high off his head, that you turned to the only person who was there to comfort you at the time. Isaiah.

"I did not shag him! I fucking kissed him!"

"Same fucking betrayal!"

"Betrayal?! What world are you living in! He's my friend too!"

You were both yelling now, and you knew everyone would be awake at this point.

"Friend? Friend? I don't know about you , Y/N, but I don't regularly go around snogging-"

"I was fucking upset- you promised me Finn! We made a fucking pact! Though I guess I - that doesn't mean anything to you anymore!"

"Stop being so bloody immature! We're not kids anymore, I can do what I want!"

"Oh I forgot, big Finn Shelby, always trying to follow in his brothers footsteps! Well guess what Finn, you're not them! You're still a fucking kid." You spat angrily.

"I'm a kid?! You're the one who ran off to snog Isaiah as a form of petty bloody revenge-"

"I did not!"

"Yes you did! Because that's what you always do! You bloody manipulate people into hurting because you know what will hurt them the fucking most! And that's what you did with me tonight!"

Your eyes widened at this, as you recoiled, and angry tears welled at your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. Finn was always the sibling that was calmer and laid back. It was why you never usually argued. Anything you said usually washed right over his head. You supposed that sometimes you abused that a little.

"At least I have the ability to process my emotions, and don't just fucking hide them because I want to act the big man in front of my brothers! When are you going to see that you're not a proper fucking Peaky Blinder! You-" You almost screeched.

"Enough!" You heard a bellow, and froze slightly. The wrath of your Aunt Polly was enough to sober you both up practically instantly, though Finn still hadn't managed to stand up straight. "You are both children! Christmas bloody Eve and you wake us up like this!"

You turned round, to see Aunt Polly on the stairs, her arms crossed , lips pursed. The look she gave was enough for you to feel like a five year old again, who had just been caught playing with her makeup. The majority of the rest of your family also stood around on the stairs , half looking amused, half looking pissed off and tired. You felt your cheeks burn. All you ever wanted to do was impress your siblings. You had a feeling this wasn't the way to do it.

"Tell him that-"

"Tell her that-"

You both spat at the same time, glaring at each other, fists clenched, your jaws set in exactly the same way. You hated arguing with any of your family, but you, though you rarely showed it, had a temper just like Arthur when you got going, and both of you knew exactly how to hurt the other - you just rarely tried to. It was how you were both so upset right now.

"I said enough! If you can't use your bloody inside voices then don't come inside!"

"Fine by me." Finn muttered, turning and slamming out of the front door, so hard the window pane trembled. You knew then, that he was upset. If he was truly, really, angry, then he'd stay and yell some more. He left because he didn't want anyone to see him as weak. And that made your lip wobble a tiny amount.

"You do not get the last word, Finn Shelby!" You yelled, suddenly well aware how childish you were. But you couldn't stop, as you too, pulled open the front door, and saw him halfway down the street, the dawn light making it just possible to see him.

You stormed off in the opposite direction, to where you always went when you felt like this.

You went to see your mum.

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

It took, on average, around thirty or forty minutes for you to walk to the graveyard where they had buried Rosalie Shelby. You were too little to remember much - barely six when she passed, but you knew that your family didn't settle on nothing short of perfect for your mother. By that time, your father had already walked out, and your siblings had searched and searched for the perfect place to bury her. She didn't like to feel trapped when she was alive, Johnny had told you. And so, they buried her on the outskirts of Small Heath, on a hill surrounded by wildflowers, that had fuzzy bees fly around them in the summer, and tiny dormice. You loved coming here as a kid, not really understanding what it was - to you it just felt like a day in the countryside, which was rare. You still came often, to talk to her, when you were upset , or angry, or just felt something close to missing her . You knew she couldn't hear you, but some part of you yearned for it. For her to be able to speak back.

"Hey, Mum." You spoke softly, sitting down on the cold, damp, earth, limbs aching from your walk. By now, the sky was almost fully light. Your fingers touched the grave in a sort of greeting.

"I'm scared, Mum. I'm scared for Finn." You swallowed, leaning back on your palms, glancing up at the purple- pink dawn sky. Unfortunately for your baby nieces and nephews, it didn't look like it was going to snow in time for Christmas.

"He's never been like this with me. We're supposed to be a team, you know? But it's like, everyday he's drifting further and further away. I don't want him to, Mum. He's my best friend before my brother, and I'm losing him. I know I am. I just don't know how to stop it."

Your voice kept cracking, and suddenly, salty tears were dripping down your face, falling into the soil. There were several bouquets around the grave, and you weren't surprised. Your family all visited this time of year. Being here , in this place, it was your sanctuary, and it was rare that you would cry anywhere else. You pent up emotions until you felt like you would burst, and then you'd walk here.

"I miss you." You murmured. "In the best way I can. Because how can I miss someone I barely knew? You left us before I got to know your mannerisms like Ada and all the others do. They sometimes sit around and tell stories about you, and I just sit there, because they're just talking about a stranger, to me."

You paused for another few moments.

"Sometimes, I wonder, if you'd stayed, if everything would have been easier. If Tommy would be happier more, if Arth would be less angry all the time, if John  would be-"

"Thought I'd find you here."

You turned round, having got a fright, to see your closest brother - John, standing, no longer wearing his pyjamas, but the suits you were used to seeing him wear. His cap was held between his hands, and for once, no cigarette dangled from his lips.

Quickly, you tried to wipe away your tear tracks, as he sat down beside you, the same cross legged position you were in.

"Come on, Squirrel. Don't cry, eh?" He said softly, wrapping an arm around you tightly, and you leaned into him.

The nickname your siblings had given you (on account of you often 'running away' from home as a child, and usually being found halfway up a tree, along with the fact that you used to have a habit of hiding food all around the Shelby home)  almost brought a smile to your face.

"Is Finn..."

"Ada's gone after him. You know she's better with him."

You sniffed, nodding.

"I'm sorry. I know I was a dick to him again."

He nodded a little. "Yeah, you were. He was a bit of a twat too, to be fair."

"I know Pol says we're just growing up, but.." You swallowed. "I don't want to grow up if it means I lose my best friend, Johnny."

"You're not, Y/N."

"He's never spoke to me like that before. He's doing fucking snow John. And I know that isn't a big deal to you lot. But it is to me. And he just doesn't give a shit."

He was silent for a few minutes.

"C'mon, he does care. He's just..."

"I just... I never thought Finn would end up like..."

"Us?" John's voice was calm, if not a little hurt.

You swallowed. "No. Like Pa. You think I can't remember, but I do. I remember when he used to scream and shout and break things, and I remember when you hid me and Finn and Ada in the cupboard all those times, so we didn't have to deal with it. The way Finn screamed today... I don't know. It just took me back."

His arm squeezed tighter around you, and you felt how much more tense he was. You knew it hurt him far more than it hurt you.

"Why didn't you ever tell us you could remember?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. It's not like I can remember much anyway. It's like with Mum. I can remember tidbits. Just not enough. Not like you all can."

"I wish you could remember her properly." He said wistfully. "Then again, maybe not. We loved her, you know, course we did. But one minute she was great, and the next she was just ... gone. Vacant. I know she wasn't well. It just hurt."

You'd never heard John really open up about your parents. He usually listened, but you found yourself liking this more.

"I feel like I can't miss her properly. Because I didn't know her."

"You can still miss her, Squirrel. Maybe it isn't the same type of  missing as the rest of us, but you can still miss her just as much."

You shot him a small smile.

"Thanks Johnny." You said quietly.

You sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"I really like Isa, Johnny. I didn't just do it to hurt Finn."

He didn't sound shocked. "Yeah, well, we all saw that coming from miles away." He snorted, humorously.

You laughed a little. "I guess it was a bit obvious."

"Really? You going beet red and leaving the room every time you saw him? Never." He quipped sarcastically.

"I didn't mean to hurt Finn. Well... maybe a little. I just want him to be okay, Johnny. I was just lashing out."

"He will be."

"How can you know?"

"Cause I know our Finn. And you do too."

You sighed.

"You've got to let him live, Y/N. I know you don't agree with it, and you should know none of us do either. But he has to realise some things himself."

You paused for a few seconds. Then you burst into snorting laughter.

"What?" He looked at you with a confused smile.

"Jesus... Christ ... Johnny. You sound just like... fucking ... Linda." You laughed.

He playfully jabbed you.

"Take that back, right fucking now." He grinned.

"You'll be spouting about God next." You joked.

He laughed. "The day I turn into Linda is the day I want you to shoot me."

"Don't you worry, John, I will." You snorted again.

"You coming home, then?" He asked, standing up, and it was only then that you noticed the flowers in his hands - fresh ones that he must have brought. He placed them down, next to other ones.

"Yeah." You said quietly, and he pulled you up by your hand, as you dusted mud off your skirts.

"See you, Mum."  He said quietly, turning, and walking slowly away, giving you a few seconds.

"Bye, Mum. Merry Christmas." You placed a gentle kiss on her headstone, before running after your brother.

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

You’d only just warmed up, when John stopped the car. He, being the cleverer of the two of you, had elected to drive to the cemetery instead of walking thirty minutes in the freezing cold.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, as you saw where he had parked the car - near the part of the Cut that was surrounded by high grasses and small trees - the only part of Small Heath that was remotely like the countryside.

"Go and speak to him." He said, firmly, though encouragingly.

You sighed a little, mock rolling your eyes, though you knew you had to. You closed the door behind you, as you hopped out, leaning back through the window for a second.

"You better wait for us, I'm not bloody walking home in this cold." You grinned, before turning away.

Just like you had your safe place, so did Finn- and it was here. He had told you once, that one of his only memories of your mother was her bringing you both down here as toddlers - just you two - and sitting reading to you in the grasses. He'd later confided in you that he wasn't quite sure if it was real or imaginary, to which you told him you couldn't be so sure about any of your memories either. The place had a dark tinge to you, considering what happened to your mother, but you couldn't blame him for liking it here. After all , your safe place was a grave yard. Who were you to judge?

Finn was sat, legs almost dangling in the river, next to Ada . They looked like they were sat in silence, and so, you thought it was alright to approach. Ada turned as you walked, giving you a small smile, then standing up, and walking past you back to the car. She squeezed your cold hand as she walked past.

"He's calmed down." She murmured. "I hope you have too."

Awkward was never an emotion you had felt with your twin before, but now it was one that overwhelmed you. You didn't know how to speak.

"I'm sorry." You blurted at the both time, as you flopped down to sit next to him.

He sighed. "I'm a dick. You were just trying to look out for me-"

"I wasn't going about it the right way. You’re right. I was being petty.”

“I know you like Isaiah.” He said quietly. He didn’t sound particularly mad. “I’ve known for a while.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it. No matter how upset I was. Because you’re right. A little bit of it was to hurt you.”

He shrugged. “I hurt you too.” He sighed. “Look. I don’t want to ever be like that again. It doesn’t matter what I was on or...” He rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re supposed to look after each other.”

“I don’t wanna grow apart.” You mumbled.

He laughed a little. “Come on. We’re twins. We’re never gonna lose each other.”

You smiled, holding up a pinkie.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise, Squirrel.”

[writer1]

A regretful Wolf and his Beauty

Chapter Twelve

Beast!Rex x Fem!reader

Summary: As punishment for his actions, young prince Rex was cursed to become a monster by a witch. The only thing that saved him from his fate was an enchantress, who gave him a condition. He has to find true love in order to redeem himself and he only has until the last petal of the enchanted rose falls. Rex's family helps you by guiding your way into his heart. Rex's fate now lies in your hands.

Warnings: mental and physical child abuse, injury, blood, dislocation, trauma, feelings are hurt, anxiety, emotional and physical pain, fear, shouting, blame, guilt, manipulation, lies, neglect, mistreatment, mention of death. 

A/N: This is a collaborative fic with @ahsokatano-thetogruta.

Stutter would be sticking his tongue out in concentration, if he could that is. The sixteen year old is painting a picture of a stunning sunset at the moment. Jesse is watching him as Kix watches sixteen year old Sabine paint a picture of an explosion.

The two have always loved to paint, it’s the reason the two were turned into paintbrushes. Stutter especially loves it, it started as a way for him to bond with Rex and his brother’s. Rex had gotten him into painting when he first arrived at the castle, and it grew from there. Stutter’s family didn’t treat him right, they hated his stutter. His mother died a few days after he was born, his father would beat him when he got angry, but never laid a hand on his brothers.

His brothers would push him around and make fun of his stutter, they told him that he was nothing, and that no one would ever love him. No one outside the household knew what was really going on, his father made sure to never hit him where it was visible. 

Rex and his brothers always came for visits to their uncle’s, they loved their cousin’s. But they had noticed something off, Stutter always seemed afraid of his father and brothers. He seemed to hide away from everyone a lot, no one realized what was going on until Stutter was three. 

It was one of their few visits that they finally figured it out, and none of them will ever forget it. 

Thirteen years ago

Stutter's oldest brother, Adam, has just turned twelve years old. Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo and Bly have gone to their Uncle's to celebrate their cousin's birthday. The extravagantly decorated cake sits on the table, along with lots of presents that he has had from his family and other relatives, though most of them are from his Father because he spoils his sons, except for one.

“Where is Stutter?” Everyone is sitting in the lounge as they partake in the activities that Adam has chosen. Adam rolls his eyes. “Why? Does it matter where that Shrimp is?” His half hearted answer makes Rex's blood boil, but he keeps calm and level headed as Cody places a hand on his shoulder, sensing his Rex'ika's anger.

How dare he call him that horrible name, they always call Stutter that, and he hates it. Rex stands up “I need to go to the refresher.” No one but his own brothers acknowledge him. Rex walks upstairs, looking through the few rooms that are on the upstairs floor. He comes to a door and tries to open it. It's locked. Rex worries a little as he hears a quiet sobbing sound. “Stutter? Are you in there? It's Rex.” 

“R-Rex?” the three year old boy sniffles as he frantically wipes away the tears from his face, not wanting Rex to see that he was crying. “May I come in?” There's a long pause before he hears the click of the lock. The door slowly opens, revealing Stutter's sweet, little face peering through the gap. 

He steps away from the door to allow Rex in. “Are you alright, Stutter? Do you not want to join us for your brother's birthday party?” The question almost makes Stutter cry again. He doesn't want to think of Adam as his brother, not after what they do to him. Stutter just shakes his head. “N-No, I-I-I'm not f-feeling well.” His shoulders droop a little as he holds one arm nervously.

Rex can tell that something is wrong. “Have you been crying?” Stutter shakes his head abruptly. “It's okay, Stutter. You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He goes to walk closer to the three year old to give him a hug, but Stutter jolts away. Rex shows a concerned expression, seeing Stutter give an apologetic look. “What's wrong?-” that's when he sees it.

There's something dark at the collar of Stutter's oversized shirt. It looks like he buttoned his shirt up the best he could to hide whatever it is underneath. “What is that? Could you unbutton your shirt slightly for me please?” Rex asks kindly, but the young boy freezes and doesn't say anything, so Rex approaches him slowly so as not to startle him, crouches down, then gently starts to unbutton the shirt. Four buttons later, he can see it fully now. A black and purple bruise is apparent at the base of his neck and just above his chest. 

The shock and fear in Rex's eyes makes Stutter feel nervous, scared that his Father will find out that someone knows about his bruise. Stutter was threatened that if someone else found out about his bruises, then he'd get another one. “What…how did you get this?” The worry in Rex only increases as Stutter trembles and tears fill his eyes. Rex pulls him into a hug, trying to make the small boy feel safe as he cries into his chest. “Shh, it's alright. I'm here for you.” 

Once he had calmed down, Stutter sniffles as he pulls away from Rex, his nose slightly snotty, eyes red and sore from crying so much in one day. “I...F-Father s-s-said t-t-that I d-deserved i-i-it.” Rex feels anger. “No, this is not what you deserve Stutter. Why would you think that, what did he tell you?”

Stutter tears up more, choking up on a sob. “Father a-a-and b-brother’s said that I-I k-k-killed mother, t-they s-s-said that I-I-I’m b-bad. My b-brothers also s-said that I-I’m not g-good e-e-enough to be t-their b-brother.” Rex feels anger flow through him, who in their right mind would tell a child that they killed their mom. That’s disgusting! 

“It was not your fault Stutter, they are lying to you! Your mom was sick, it was no one’s fault. Now, we need to talk to Cody.” Stutter trembles in fear, tears spilling from his eyes, Rex wraps his arms around him. He picks the three year old up, carrying him out of the room and carefully downstairs. Rex carries Stutter straight to the lounge, rubbing the sobbing child’s back gently.

Rex walks in, he sees that his Uncle has joined everyone in the room. “Cody!” Cody jumps up as soon as Rex calls, running over to the two. Stutter’s father jumps up as well, Rex sets Stutter down, and Cody sees the bruise right away.

“What the hell happened?” Cody asks, wiping Stutters tears away gently and taking a closer look at the bruise. Rex turns, glaring at his uncle. “Ask him.” Rex tells him with disgust, staring straight at Stutter’s father. Cody’s brow furrows in confusion, and he turns to his Uncle. “What is Rex talking about, Uncle?”

His Uncle shakes his head, giving Cody a comforting smile. “I have no idea, Stutter must have fallen, come here son.” Stutter’s father goes to walk over to Stutter, who cowers in fear, grabbing onto Rex for dear life. Rex scowls at him “If he fell, then why did he lock himself in his room and not come to us straight away?” Stutter's Father glares at Rex, in warning, as he continues to walk closer. 

Cody’s eyes narrow. “Stay back.” He tells his Uncle firmly, then he turns to Stutter. “Stutter, you need to tell me the truth. Did your father do this to you?”

Stutter whimpers, nodding. Cody feels anger coarse through him. “Stutter also told me that his father said that he deserved it, Cody. And both our Uncle and our cousins told Stutter that he killed his mother!”

“They told him WHAT!!?” Cody turns to his Uncle who has started storming over. “I said nothing of the sort, the brat’s lying.” He pushes Cody out of the way, grabbing Stutter roughly by his left arm and yanking him away from Rex, so hard that a loud snap-like popping noise sounds around the room. Stutter screams and cries out in pain, making everyone, but his father and brothers, gasp. Cody jumps right into action. He grabs his uncle's arm and gently pry’s Stutter’s hand from his grip, the little boy runs straight into Rex’s arms while clutching his left arm from the pain, being unable to move it whatsoever.

Rex hugs him close, wrapping his arms tightly around Stutter. “It’s okay now, I’ve got you, he can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.” 

Cody does his best to keep as much distance between his Uncle and Stutter “You're such a little brat, Shrimp! Get out, NOW! You're not staying here anymore, I've had enough of your stupid behavior!” His Father shouts at him, making Stutter scream out, just wanting to never hear his voice again, wanting to be free of the agonizing pain he's been in for so long, mentally and physically. Cody shoves his Uncle back. “ENOUGH! You have no right to call him that!” Cody turns to Rex. “Rex, get Stutter out of here, now.”

Rex doesn't waste another moment. He turns on his heels as quick as he can and bolts down the hallway and out of the front door. He can hear footsteps following behind him, also running at a fast pace. Without stopping to see who it is, Rex just holds Stutter close with a hand cupping the back of his head. Stutter looks behind Rex to see his three older brothers chasing both of them. The three of them had picked up some rocks along the way to throw at their brother and cousin.

Rex took all of the hits on his back, making sure that none hit Stutter. A few painful hits later, the rocks had stopped being thrown at them. Rex stops to see Fives, Echo and Bly tackling them to the ground, holding them down. “Rex, just keep running! We've got them pinned!” Bly shouts over to him, holding down the oldest of the brothers, making Rex start to run again, comforting Stutter by giving him words of reassurance that everything will be alright now.

Back at the house, right after Rex had run outside with Stutter, his three cousins and brothers running too, Stutter's Father just stands completely still, not too far away from Cody. The sixteen year old turns to leave him be, but the low, dark voice sends a shiver down his spine. “Where do you think you're going?” Cody feels fear and confusion at the same time. “I'm going back home now. I don't want to stay here any longer-”

“You took him away from me! It's All Your Fault! If you and your kriffing brother hadn't got in the way, then that Shrimp would have still been mine!” The venom in his voice angers Cody, making him turn around again. “I told you not to call him that!!” Cody runs towards him, swinging his fist at his Uncle. Cody wishes Obi Wan was here. 

His boyfriend is brilliant when it comes to hand to hand combat. Cody on the other hand, he's too slow, allowing his Uncle to dodge his attack. A fearful gasp escapes Cody as he feels a hand yank him backwards, then a burning sensation around his neck as his Uncle wraps a hand around his throat, lifting him off of the ground. Cody claws at the hand, desperately gasping for air, some fearful tears spilling from his eyes. “S--t-op. P-Ple--ase.” Cody chokes out, wanting to be let go of and put down.

Instead, his Uncle tenses his expression and widens his eyes as he throws the sixteen years old boy across the room. Cody's life flashes before his eyes as he heads straight for a small coffee table. There's no way of stopping in mid air now. He wishes that Obi Wan was here to save him, just wanting to be held by him, wanting to--

Cody makes harsh contact with the edge of the oddly shaped table, cutting and splitting the left side of his face from his temple to his cheek, around his eye. He lands on the floor with a painful thump, letting out an agonizingly pained scream that echoes throughout the room. He clutches his face, tears flooding out of his eyes now. Cody sees red flow in front of his left eye, making it sting, a lot. Moving his hand away from his face, he sees, using his right eye, that his hand is covered in blood. Lots of it.

His Uncle walks forward, towering over him. “Get out…NOW! I SWEAR THAT I WON'T GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE, BOY!” Not a moment later, Cody scrambles to his feet, hand clutching his face again as he runs as fast as he can out of the house. He sees Rex running in the distance as the three of his cousins push past Cody and back into the house, slamming the door shut behind them and locking it immediately.

“Cody!” Fives, Echo and Bly call out to him, rushing over, only to see the blood seeping through his fingers. “What happened?” Fourteen year old Bly asks in complete worry for his Ori'Vod. Cody doesn't respond, he just wobbles on his feet as his vision becomes blurry. “Woah, hey. It's okay, we've got you, Ori'Vod.” The three of them support Cody as they make their way back to the castle.

Rex and Stutter finally arrive at the castle, pushing through the gate and running up the stairs and into the main hall. At the moment the only people in the hall are Obi Wan, Knight Plo, 99 and the bad batch. They all look confused when they see him breathing heavily, with young Stutter clutched in his arms.

“Rex? What happened? Why do you have Stutter here?” 99 asks, and Rex carries Stutter over. “Uncle has been abusing Stutter, so we took him.” Rex sets Stutter down, and everyone gasps when they see the large bruise. 99 hobbles over, kneeling to take a closer look.

“Did your dad really do this, Stutter?” Stutter nods, tears still drip down his face. “His father and our cousins also told him that he is the reason that his mother died, I also don’t think this was the first time that this has occurred either. Remember the times we offered to help with Stutter, but Uncle wouldn’t allow us to change his diaper or clothes?” 99 nods while Plo leaves the room for a minute, when he comes back he has Kix with him. His cousin is training to be a doctor, he’s almost done so he’s certified enough to check Stutter over.

Kix Starts checking him over when Cody, Fives, Echo and Bly all walk in, everyone gasps when they see Cody bleeding profusely from a wound on the corner of his forehead. Obi Wan goes running, so does Kix. Rex’s eyes widen. “Cody, what happened?!”

“It- It was Uncle! He attacked me.” Cody stumbles, and Obi Wan has to grab him so that he doesn’t hit the ground. Rex hears another gasp, he turns to see 99 and his uncle Plo with Stutter. They have taken his shirt off so that everyone can see the bruises littering the young boy's body, some are yellowing, telling everyone that they’re older and some are bright purple.

Kix looks angry when he sees them, but he continues patching up Cody first as Rex, Plo and 99 take care of Stutter. Everyone is angry over what happened. Wrecker hugs Stutter close, him and his brothers know what it’s like to be unloved by their parents. “It’s okay Stutter, you’re going to be safe here.” Wrecker whispers quietly, nuzzling the top of the three year old's head.

“Uncle Plo, do you think that you can gather a group of knights and go to arrest my uncle?” Plo nods. “Of course, I would be happy to.” with that Plo leaves the room, and Kix finishes up with Cody, who’s already looking a little better. A bandage has been wrapped around the left side of his face and over his eye, leaving him to only see out of his right eye. Obi Wan gives Cody a sweet kiss on his right cheek.

Kix leaves Cody with Obi Wan, walking over to check Stutter over. “Can you check his left arm, Kix? His father grabbed and yanked it pretty hard. Then there was a sort of snap-like popping noise.” Rex asks, and Kix nods. “Can you move Wrecker? I know that you want to comfort him, but I need to check him over.” Wrecker nods, moving to stand beside his brother’s. All four of the boys look angry, they’ve visited Stutter before in the year they’ve lived with 99 and absolutely love their little cousin. They can’t believe that they’ve never noticed anything wrong.

Kix checks Stutter’s arm, he gasps, then sobs when Kix presses on his shoulder. “It’s not broken, It is dislocated. Obi Wan, can you come over and hold him still, I’m going to have to pop it back in.” Obi Wan nods and walks over, not wanting to leave Cody, but making sure that Stutter holds still while popping his shoulder back into place is important. He grimaces. He knows that this is going to hurt him. “Boys, why don’t you leave the room, I’ll call you when they’re done.” 99 tells the bad batch. The boys nod, leaving the room. 

“Bly, please take Rex, Fives and Echo out.” Rex shakes his head. “I’m not leaving him.” Cody sighs. “Rex’ika-”  “No! I’m not leaving him. Not after what he's been through.” Rex stresses, standing his ground. Cody turns to Bly. “Take the other two out, Rex can stay.” Bly nods while he takes the twins out of the room, Rex walks over to Stutter.

“You can hold my hand if you like.” Rex offers out his hand, making Stutter feel nervous. “I...I-I've n-n-never held a-anyone's hand b-before.” Rex, Cody and Obi Wan all look at eachother, sharing a sympathetic look for the three year old.

Rex smiles sadly. “It's alright, you can hold my hand whenever you'd like to.” Stutter reaches out his hand, touching Rex's palm but instantly flinches away. Rex smiles comfortingly “It's alright, you're safe now.” The final bit of encouragement makes Stutter cautiously but comfortably take his hand. The feeling is nice and comforting, way more pleasant than being hit or beaten. The soft feel of Rex's skin feels nice, making Stutter let out a small sigh of relief, feeling safer.

Obi Wan holds onto Stutter as Kix gently grips his arm. “Okay, I'm going to count to three. One. Two-” on two Kix quickly pops his arm back into place, making the three year old scream, then start crying. “Shh, shh. We’re done Stutter, it’s okay.” Kix comforts him quietly, he hates seeing kids in any kind of pain. Rex gently hugs Stutter close to his chest while Obi Wan pets his hair. Kix starts putting a cast on Stutter’s arm since he thankfully brought everything with him in his bag. Once he finishes and It’s dry Kix places it in a sling.

“There, all done. Why don’t you go show him around the castle Rex?” Rex nods. “C'mon, Stutter. Let's give you a tour.” Before he starts to walk, he feels a small hand hold his right hand, seeing that Stutter still looks nervous, but he's seeming a little braver already. 

Rex takes Stutter around most of the castle, showing him the most interesting places like the library, drawing room, conservatory, all those kinds of places. When they reached the kitchen, the lovely aroma of food made Stutter's stomach growl. “Are you hungry?” Stutter shakes his head. “I-I-I'm f-fine. I'm n-n-not hungry.” His stomach growls again, more violently. 

“You are allowed to eat something whenever you'd like. My cousin Gregor can make you something if you'd like?” Rex offers the boy with a smile, and the boy nods his head. “What would you like?” 

“I-I'll have w-whatever I-I-I'm given, I promise I w-will eat it e-e-even i-i-if I d-don't l-like it.” Stutter's reply was quick, making Rex frown a little. “If you don't like something, I promise that we won't force you to eat it.” Rex squeezes Stutter's hand reassuringly. 

“O-Okay, t-t-thank y-you.” Stutter smiles for the first time, filling Rex's heart with happiness. “You're welcome, though may I suggest the waffles and strawberries? They are very tasty and I live having them for breakfast.” Stutter nods, making him a little excited for it just by the name of it. He was never told the names of food he was given, all he knew was that it tasted horrible.

About ten minutes later, Stutter sat down at the table, enjoying his waffles and strawberries. It's the best thing that he has eaten in his entire life. A few tears of happiness spill out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he munches away. Rex smiles as he watches Stutter finish the rest of his food, letting him know that he's full now. 

They carry on the tour for a bit, when suddenly Stutter yawns. “S-Sorry.”

“There's no need to apologise, Stutter. Would you like a nap?” the three year old hesitates before he yawns again, nodding his head as he rubs his eye sleepily. “Here, would you like me to carry you?”

“Y-Yes p-p-please.” Stutter lifts his arms up a little as Rex picks him up, allowing Stutter to wrap his little body around him.

Rex carries Stutter to the West wing to have a nap on his bed. Setting the sleepy three year old down gently into the bed and readjusting the pillow beneath his head, Stutter speaks again “R-Rex?”

“Yes, Stutter?” Stutter has a nervous look again. “I-If it's not a-a-a p-problem, c-could you s-s-stay w-with me?” 

“Of course I can, would you like me to lie next to you?” Rex smiles as he sits on the edge of the bed, seeing Stutter nod. Rex swings his legs onto the bed, wrapping his arms carefully around Stutter.

xxx

Stutter wakes up with a quiet gasp, he had a nightmare again. Stutter takes in his surroundings, seeing Rex and remembering where he was. That’s when he felt the wetness underneath him, he looks down and sees the wet spot on his pants and the bed surrounding it. Fear strikes him, his dad would beat him for wetting his bed, and he knows that he’s going to get a beating from one of the adults for wetting Rex’s bed.

Stutter gets up, panicking. He doesn’t want a beating, he’s breathing rapidly and he feels so much fear. Stutter ends up throwing up all over the floor, waking Rex. Rex jumps up out of bed and rushes over to Stutter, rubbing his back soothingly “I-I'm s-s-sorry, R-Re-” the young boy continues to throw up, choking on his vomit a little as tears prick in the corners of his eyes. “Shh, it's alright. Just let it out.”

Stutter spluttered out the last drops of vomit, shivering a little. Rex frowns “Here, come to the refresher with me.”

“B-But t-the mess and t-the wet b-b-bed, I'll g-get told o-o-off if I d-d-don't c-clean it u-up.” “Nevermind that, it's alright. You're not in trouble. These things happen sometimes, but it's okay. I promise.” Stutter feels confusion as Rex helps him to the refresher. All Stutter had ever been told that if he makes a mess, he'll get in big trouble that ends up with him being beaten. 

“Alright, let's get you cleaned up shall we?” Rex smiles at the three year old, still looking terrified. “Here, let me wipe off as much as I can and then you can have a bath if you'd like one?” 

Stutter nods as Rex uses a towel to wipe up as much of the vomit as he can. Rex starts the bath up, squeezing some soap into it, and soon Stutter sees the steam and fluffy bubbles coming from the bath “W-Who's t-that for?” Rex looks over to what Stutter is pointing to, seeing that it's the bath he is asking about. “It's for you,  why?”

“I-I was o-o-only allowed t-to h-have c-c-cold water b-baths.” 

“Wait, you haven't had a hot bath before?” Rex sounds surprised, Stutter shakes his head nervously. “N-no, sorry.”

“There's no need to apologise Stutter, it wasn't your fault, I just…Here, wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll be back soon.” Rex smiles as he leaves the refresher, leaving Stutter just staring at the bath, mesmerised by the steam coming up and off of the bath water. He's fascinated by it. A few moments later, Rex arrives back with some clean clothes.

“Here these might be slightly big for you, but they should be okay. They are some of Tech's clothes, he's only two years older than you so they might be a bit big, but not overly.” Rex places the top, trouser and jumper on the sink. Because Stutter was shivering, he thought that the jumper after the bath would keep the three year old warm. Rex walks over to the bath and switches it off, just before it rises halfway. He checks the water temperature. “Perfect. It's ready for you, if you undress and hand me your clothes I'll put them in the laundry basket and have them washed right away for you.” Stutter nods as he strips himself off. 

The clothes are passed to Rex, who takes them into his room before going back to help Stutter into the bath. “You ready? I'll help you in.” Stutter puts his arms in the air some before Rex gently lifts him up and places him gently into the warm water, making sure to keep his left arm out as too keep the cast dry. Stutter gasps in surprise, he's never felt anything like this before. He hums happily as he leans back in the water. “T-This i-i-is nice, t-t-thank y-you.” Stutter closes his eyes, enjoying the warm water swirling around him as he shuffles. He then plays with the bubbles a little, scooping some up in his hand and blowing it off. 

The giggle makes Rex happy that the bath is helping. “Would you like me to wash your hair for you?” 

“Y-Y-Yes p-please.” Stutter feels comfortable with the touch of Rex's hands, but always being beaten, being touched is a very scary thing for Stutter, afraid that someone will want to hurt him again.

Rex gently rubs the shampoo into Stutter's hair, who enjoys the feeling of having someone wash his hair for him, instead of struggling himself. He'd always cry at the stinging sensation when the soap got in his eyes, but Rex is being careful not to get a single drop in them.

Rex then grabs a cup off the counter. “Close your eyes.” Stutter does as Rex told him, Rex cups a hand in front of Stutter’s eyes, gently pouring the water. The little boy hums at the nice feeling of the water flowing through his hair and down his back. “You like that?” Rex asks with a chuckle, only getting a sleepy nod in response.

He finishes up washing Stutter’s hair, he then grabs a towel. “Time to get out.” Stutter nods, standing up and letting Rex wrap the towel around him and lift him out. Rex sets him down and softly dries Stutter off, being very gentle around his bruises. 

He then helps Stutter get dressed, the clothes are a little big, but not by much. Rex then carries Stutter to Obi Wan's bed where he knows Cody is, laying down with the two older teens. Before Stutter closes his eyes, he sees the sun setting over the horizon, bright shades of oranges and yellows shining into the room, making him feel cozy and warm before closing his eyes to get some sleep.

xxx

Stutter finishes his painting. "L-Look Jesse. I-I-I'm done." He would be smiling if he could, the memory of being rescued by Rex and his brothers always makes him happy. It was the best day of his life, even if his father and brothers got away.

Stutter loves drawing sunsets, a sunset was the thing he saw the first time he ever felt safe and warm, loved, and it always relaxes him to draw them.

The paper man runs over to Stutter, being careful of the paint. "That looks amazing Stutter, you did a great job." Jesse smiles at him, and Stutter wishes that he could smile back. "D-Do you t-t-think t-that Rex w-would like it?" 

"Of course he would, why don't we go give it to him. We could go get Obi Wan to help us carry it." Stutter makes a nodding motion, and Jesse runs over to Kix. "Come on Kix, you can come help me and Stutter get Obi Wan." Kix sighs, but nods.

"Fine, but if he's busy we're leaving him alone. We can always just grab Rex and bring him down here, okay." Both Jesse and Stutter nod, and with that the three fly out of the room. Jesse folded into a bird as usual.

They fly to Obi Wan and Cody's shared room, and Kix hits his body on the door, making a thumping sound. It's the only way he can knock. They wait a few moments, then Kix knocks again. After a few minutes this time the door opens and they see the suit of armor looking at them.

"Did you three need something?" He asked, it's not very often that someone interrupts him and Cody. Stutter stays behind the two older cousins, even after so many years he's still afraid of some things. "Stutter painted a picture and wanted to give it to Rex, we were wondering if you could carry it up for us?" Jesse asks.

Obi Wan chuckles. "I can definitely help with that, let's go get it. Do you want to come Cody?" Cody shuffles towards the door. "Sure, let's go. Do you three want a ride?" Kix, Jesse and Stutter all nod and fly up, Jesse holds onto Kix instead of folding himself this time. They sit on Cody as him and Obi Wan make their way to the drawing room, once they get their Sabine is still painting and Stutter's painting is sitting right where he left it.

Obi Wan picks it up, admiring it. Stutter starts to get nervous, he doesn't know if Obi Wan likes it or not. Obi Wan senses Stutter's nervousness. "This looks amazing Stutter, you did a great job on it. Look Cody." Obi Wan holds the picture where Cody could see it, and the desk hums when he sees it. “Wow, this looks stunning. I love the colours you used, you're so talented. Rex is going to love this.”

Even though he doesn't have one, Stutter's face is beaming in delight. “Thank you so much, I hope he does.” The four brothers and Obi Wan, who carries the painting with care, head up the stairs towards the West Wing. As soon as they arrive at Rex's bedroom door, they hear a soft snoring sound. Obi Wan gently knocks as he opens the door to see Anakin lying on top of Rex at a slight angle across his fluffy chest and stomach. As Rex breathes, letting out the soft snores, his chest slowly rises and falls. 

A few moments later, Anakin starts to stir, looking up to see Obi Wan standing in the doorway. He can't see Cody or the others at the level he is lying at. Anakin lets out a yawn and whispers, as to not wake Rex “Obi Wan. Is everything alright?” Obi Wan nods and whispers back “Yes, everything is fine. Cody, Stutter and the twins are here too.”

Anakin hears a shuffling and sees them all come into view now. “Hey you guys.” they all respond with a quiet greeting. “What you got there, Obi Wan?” Anakin nods towards the canvas.

“It's a painting of a sunset that Stutter did for Rex.” Obi Wan explains, smiling invisibly to Stutter. “I-If h-h-he's asleep, I-I-I c-can just l-leave it h-here f-f-for him.” Stutter offers. 

The sound of quiet talking to each other eventually wakes Rex up. He goes to sit up when he remembers that Anakin is lying down on top of him. As he lets out a yawn, the others see his sharp teeth and fangs showing on display. It doesn't bother anyone in the slightest that he has them. Anakin chuckles a little as he gets up, allowing Rex to sit up “Nice nap, Rexster?” 

Rex smiles at the nickname that Anakin gave him when they were younger. It started out as something to bug Rex with, when they first met Anakin didn't really like Rex very much, but things have definitely changed since then.

"Yeah, it was nice. So what are you guys doing here?" Rex asks, gesturing to the group. Stutter is hiding behind Obi Wan now, suddenly very shy. "Well, Stutter painted a picture for you, Rex'ika." Rex perks up, he loves when Stutter paints him pictures. He looks around, but doesn't see the paintbrush anywhere.

"Where is he?" Rex frowns while he asks, he knows that Stutter must be hiding. It happens sometimes, even after all the years away from him, Stutter still has habits and scars from his father. Physical and emotional.

"Come on out, Stutter. You know that I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." Stutter flies out from behind Obi Wan, who walks forward. "This is the painting that Stutter painted for you." Rex takes the painting and Stutter flies over while Rex looks at it.

"This is amazing, Stutter! I love it!" Stutter beams, flying up and snuggling into Rex's fur. Rex chuckles, nuzzling the paintbrush. "Thank you, Ori'Vod." 

Rex smiles, it always warms his heart when Stutter calls him that. It took him so long to get up the courage to call Rex his brother.

"You're welcome, Stutter. I love it. I'll make sure to find a place to hang it up later." Rex stands up to find a place to put the painting, and that's when Stutter backs up. Accidentally bumping into a glass framed painting of Rex's parents, it falls to the floor, shattering. The loud noise scared Stutter, but even more so knowing how important that painting is to Rex.

Anakin knows this too, and he starts walking towards Rex to calm him down. "STUTTER!!!! HOW COULD YOU!!!" Rex yells, making Stutter flinch and whimper loudly. Stutter flies as fast as he can out of the room. The room falls silent, regret fills Rex as he feels everyone in the room staring at him. “Rex!! Why would you yell at Stutter like that?!” Cody makes Rex press his ears back, whimpering as he realizes what he just did. “I...I didn't mean to-” Rex bolts out of his room to go and hide from everyone, embarrassed at what he just did. Obi Wan places his hand on top of Cody to calm his boyfriend, feeling his anger boiling up inside of him. 

Stutter sobs hard as he floats down the hallway, trying to fight away his pain caused so many years ago, on the verge of letting it consume and destroy him. He bursts into a room, falling to the floor from the loss of energy. He chokes on his sobs, wishing that he had tears that would allow him to cry away his pain for a short time, before his episodes of panic attacks fully developed into outbreaks that would uncontrollably happen every now and then. 

“Stutter?” 

Taglist:  @ellie1366 @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @lightning-wolffe  @pinkiemme

@captainrexisboo  @trash-dino-5000

[northpen]

the long jade night (preview)

an: despite having another multi-chapter in the works, i’ve been secretly working on a mini-sequel to Meet Again. the final result will be a one-shot, but i’ve finally finished the first part, so i’ve decided to post it as a preview here!

(slight warning: this preview is more than 3k words long).

*

JADE | QUIET

The story broke a year after their return as ninja.

Cole tugged on the sails of Destiny's Bounty, turning them northwest. The wind was strong; it wouldn't take long to reach their destination. What awaited them, he wasn't entirely sure. He only knew that its prospect filled him with dread.

The laws of chronology dictated that Cole was 3129 years-old. In appearance, he looked no older than twenty-one. He had lived through thirty-one lifetimes. Some were happy, some were sad, but most were lonely. Until now, he had long since accepted the latter as a permanent symptom of agelessness. It wasn't very often that he got to live his days surrounded by friends.

It crushed his heart to know this was the last time it would ever happen.

"I knew her once, didn't I?" said a robotic voice from behind.

He tied down the ropes and turned around. Adorned by his white ninja robes, Zane stood stiffly on the wooden deck. There was a familiar sadness in his eyes, the kind that came around whenever he encountered something he could no longer remember. It pained Cole to witness. They had promised to continue their lives as ninja to create new memories, not mourn the ones they had lost.

It would get easier over time, he assumed. In Jamanakai, they would no longer be surrounded by reminders of the lives they had once shared together. They would both heal in the village's snowy landscape. And then they would prosper.

"We barely knew her," Cole replied. His memories of her before her death were faint, a vague recollection in lieu of anything concrete. "Lloyd and Nya knew her better. We were trapped in another dimension when she ruled with Garmadon. By the time we came back, she was gone. It's a little worrying."

Zane tilted his head to the side. "Worrying?"

Memories of sifting through the ruins of a fallen building crawled across his consciousness like spiders, pinning the visuals just behind his eyes. Chunks of grey brick. Dirt. Shattered glass. He lifted the treasures beneath them with shaky hands.

A strand of pin-straight white hair, now soaked in blood and coated with dust.

"I knew the others well when we approached them. They were different, but the same in all the ways that mattered. Their souls hadn't changed at all," he said. He clenched his fist to keep his hand from shaking. "I feel like I'm going into this blind. The Jade Princess was never one of my closest friends."

Zane hummed. "Then why help her?"

His decision to return to Ninjago City was impossible to rationalize. Despite initial false appearances, Harumi had always been an enemy to them. She had lied to them, taunted them, tried to kill them—and yet, she drew such deep feelings of sympathy from him. There was no way for him to answer the why without going into abstract emotions that made no sense to anyone but himself.

"I can't explain it," he finally responded. "I just feel this is something I have to do."

Zane came forward and placed a comforting cold hand on Cole's shoulder. "If you believe so, we will stand behind you."

Cole nodded and swallowed thickly. Right now, it wasn't Zane or the other ninja that worried him. It was Borg Industries and what they would do when they realized he'd betrayed them.

The previous evening, the police had sent a memo to the Bounty's communications system. A sixteen year-old girl, adopted only a few years ago into a wealthy family, had slit her adopted parents' throats and hidden away somewhere in Ninjago City. Afraid she would hurt other people, the police had requested the aid of the ninja in her retrieval. Of course, they had accepted immediately. But they had their own ulterior motives.

The story was too familiar for Cole to ignore. Even without her name, he knew this was the work of the Quiet One. Harumi was well and alive and Lloyd's desperate gamble had more widespread effects than initially thought.

Last night, he'd dreamt of the building's wreckage. When he'd awoken that morning, he'd remembered the testimony from a family who claimed that Emperor Garmadon's right-hand had played a personal role in their survival. After lunch, he'd made his final decision about what he would do when he reached Ninjago City.

He would find Princess Harumi. And then, he would let her go before any of the police's nindroids could take her away to the Kryptarium.

The police didn't know she was a reincarnation. Cole planned to use their secret connection to his advantage.

It was a risky move. A treacherous one. But he believed in her potential for redemption, and to him, that was enough reason to put himself back into danger again.

He just hoped that she wasn't beyond saving.

The city came into view during sunset. Its dark skyscrapers disrupted the soft pinks and oranges of the horizon; metaphorical spikes that cut into the delicate skin of nature and made it bleed heat and waste. Buildings stretched on for miles upon miles, an endless jungle of concrete and metal that had consumed much of the west coast in its expansion. They spoke to him in nonverbal tongues and made their demands ever so clear: We may trip, we may stumble, but we will never fall. What makes you so certain you can undermine us and win?

He could not answer their question. Doubt bloomed in his belly as the Bounty flew closer to Ninjago City. To help Harumi, the ninja would need to defy the police, Borg Industries, and the government of Ninjago itself—this was a gamble that threatened them with major institutional backlash. If they failed, they would spend the rest of their lives on the run. Nindroid agents would stalk them to the smallest of rural villages. Drones would shoot down the sails of the Bounty in the dead of night. Any reprieve they had found in their year of liberty would be lost to the threat of imprisonment.

They would become enemies of the state. Dangerous to the public. Wanted.

Hunted.

Autopilot kicked in and the Bounty lurched forward. They had begun their descent into the city.

Cole held his breath in a bid to slow his racing heart. Somewhere in the city, hidden away in an abandoned home or a dark alleyway, awaited the last reincarnation for him to encounter. Like Nya, had Harumi figured out she was a reincarnation on her own? Had she stolen her memories back just as Morro did? When they came face-to-face, would she recognize him as someone from their shared past, or only as a stranger from the present future?

The Bounty's thrusters roared as it lowered over the football field that acted as their temporary landing pad. When he looked over the edge of the deck, he could see many trucks and police cars in the parking lot next to the field. It seemed like the Commissioner was in a hurry to move things along.

The deck below his feet shook as the Bounty stuck its landing. Below deck, it was Zane alone who controlled the Bounty's motions. Nya would be in her room, getting ready to come upstairs. Out of all the ninja, she was the only one Borg and the police really trusted. Zane's memory loss and control by Nadakhan had spooked them, the other ninja were nobodies in their eyes, and Cole was a little too rebellious to be seen as someone they could depend on. Nya was their stable link that was about to be treacherously severed.

The hatch opened beside him. Nya's head poked out, and Cole offered his hand to help her climb the rest of the way out. She wore her gi and knee armour, but her hood rested at her shoulders. When she got to her feet, she took one look at Cole and rolled her eyes.

"If you want them to trust you—" she reached forward and yanked down Cole's hood "—you can't make it seem like you're trying to hide from them. I know you're a good liar. Put your acting skills to use."

The autumn air stung his cheeks. "You remember the code?"

She gave him a knowing smile. "If something is wrong, I say 'piano'. If something is disastrously wrong, I say 'Ronin'."

He put a finger to his ear and pushed down. "You guys hear that?"

"Yes, dad. We all heard," retorted Kai's voice over the channel. "Connecting to line five. Have fun."

Line five, the emergency line. The ninja were aware that for such a high level investigation, their usual communications channels wouldn't be safe. The police would want to work in conjunction with the ninja, so it was wise to assume that their voice channels would be secretly listened into by police forces. Line five was unique because unlike their other lines, it couldn't be listened into. Or at least, not until the police realized what they were doing.

Buried inside of Zane's original hardware was a transceiver for basic communications. It was this transceiver, as Nya and Jay had explained to him, that allowed Zane to hear sounds as well as emit them. "When you talk to him, the transceiver converts your words into radio signals he can receive," Jay had told him. "He digests them in a human manner, forms his response, and then transmits it back in audio waves perceivable by you. It seems complicated, but it's not really. Just think of him as a living walkie-talkie." It was this transceiver they were manipulating for line five. Instead of relaying their communications through the Bounty, they now had a much more personal short-range radio tower: Zane.

Line five routed its communications through Zane's personal transceiver. As long as they were within a few kilometres of each other, line five would transmit their words on a secure channel that could only be used by those with access to Zane's body. Thanks to Nya's purge of Zane from the system after the Nadakhan takeover, that number had been reduced down to a comfortable six.

To reduce suspicion, they would only use it in dire emergencies. The codeword piano, spoken over the main channel, meant one of the ninja needed help. Ronin meant that the police were growing suspicious and the ninja needed saving. A call for help over line five meant that evacuation was likely in order. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. They were being so careful—if all went according to plan, Harumi would be on the Bounty by the end of the night while they flew her to the moderate safety of the countryside.

At the edge of the deck, Cole wrapped an arm around Nya's torso and used airjitzu to float them safely to the ground. They crossed the grass and passed through a gate, where the parking lot awaited them on the other side. The Commissioner and several detectives were gathered beside a police van next to the parking lot entrance.

The Commissioner stretched out his arms in welcome. "Oh, how great it is to see you again, Miss Nya. Let me tell you, the current head of security is nowhere close to as good as you were."

She shook his hand politely. "You need to keep hiring reincarnated ninja. We're pretty special, you know."

The Commissioner laughed and offered his hand to Cole. "Is it safe to assume neither of the original ninja would be interested in the position?"

"Way too stressful for me," Cole replied with a smile. He hoped it didn't look too forced. "We're both pretty dead set on retirement, but who knows? Maybe we'll get bored after a few centuries and Zane will want to help out in the city again."

The Commissioner's thick moustache twitched as he smiled. "Then I look forward to your boredom."

"We're not doing the debriefing here, are we?" Nya cut in. "We should get moving. Or did we all forget there's a dangerous murderer on the loose?"

A nindroid opened the police van's side door. The Commissioner gestured to its interior.

"Of course. Climb in."

Throughout all of his years as a ninja, Cole had only visited the police headquarters a handful of times. His memory painted it as a crowded place, each floor in the tall building packed wall-to-wall with nindroid officers and human detectives. He recalled shouting and phones ringing, a place that was always loud and always busy. Tonight, it was eerily empty.

"Please excuse our appearance," the Commissioner said as he led them through the vacant halls. "Just about every capable employee we have is searching for the suspect. It's a very high priority mission for us."

All for one person, Cole thought. It occurred to him that they might not have received the full story in the transmission to the Bounty. What had Harumi done to warrant such a reaction?

Nya shared a glance with Cole. A year of masks had taught them to read each other's eyes well. In the darkest parts of her brown eyes, hidden by their feigned impartiality, was an expression of sincere worry. He was certain they were both thinking the same thing: with every cop in the city on the case, this was going to be a lot harder than originally anticipated.

The debriefing was held in a small conference room on the fourth floor. A sleek wooden table stretched across the room, its top covered in scattered paperwork and discarded takeout coffee cups. At the end of the table, three human silhouettes watched a 24-hour news station being projected onto the wall.

"Before we continue into the next story, a reminder to stay indoors if possible for the night," the anchor said to the camera. A photo of Harumi was displayed in a box next to her head. "The suspect is still at large and considered to be dangerous by the police. While the Commissioner has not yet signalled an intent to move the city into lockdown—"

"You look very busy," the Commissioner commented loudly. "Can any of you explain to me why public funds are being spent so you can watch TV?"

One of the detectives waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, yeah. We were just waiting for you to get here."

The lazy, deep drawl of his voice froze Cole in place. In the flickering light of the projector, he caught glimpses of the detective's personal features. Puffy, gelled-up hair. Trimmed eyebrows. A cleft chin. A smile that seemed to stretch a little too wide.

Really, Cole should have expected his return by this point.

Dareth turned to face them completely. "How are the ninja doing, anyways? Still okay after ditching us for a year?"

"We're doing fine, thank you," Nya said. Her hand touched his arm. She would take the lead from here. "Are you the detectives we're working with?"

"More or less," Dareth responded. "I'm the only mystery-solver here. The other two are just intelligence."

The female detective to Dareth's left slapped his arm. "I haven't spent ten years undercover for you to write me off as intelligence," she complained. She leaned forward on the table and winked. Her clumpy mascara brought attention to the sharp look in her eye. "The name's Violet. Nice to meet you."

The last intelligence took this as his queue to face the ninja as well. This was a face Cole was more excited to see.

He adjusted his glasses. His wheelchair squeaked as a result of the movement. "Cyrus," he said simply.

Nya flashed Cole a look, asking for confirmation. He nodded. Yep, it was the same one.

"This will be your team for the rest of the mission," the Commissioner said. He gestured to the chairs at the table. "Why don't you take a seat? I think it's about time we got on with the debriefing."

"Of course," Nya said. Cole moved to follow her to the chairs, but the Commissioner stopped him with a firm hand to his chest. "Not you. I need you to stay up."

Cole swallowed nervously. "Why?"

In lieu of answering his question, the Commissioner moved to the front of the room. The projector flashed erratically over his body. He lifted an arm to Cole, gesturing for him to come closer.

Nya gave Cole a small nod. It was safe to go forward.

The projector hurt his eyes. He looked into the dark corners of the room as the Commissioner clapped a large hand onto his back.

"As I'm sure you all know, the black ninja here is blessed with memories stretching all the way back to the unleashing of the Great Devourer," the Commissioner began. The hand on his back was more forceful than comforting, an idle threat that scared him more than Morro ever did. "Tonight, your debriefing won't be done by me. I think it's only fair that we let the expert take the lead."

Cole snapped his head to face the Commissioner. "I don't follow."

A laugh. It was a little mocking, a little sarcastic.

It was one Cole couldn't trust.

"Why don't you tell us what you know about the Jade Princess?" His hand trailed up his back, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck. "Judging by the presence of our friend Nya here, I'm sure this isn't your first time dealing with a reincarnation."

Just like that, the plan burned. The police knew Harumi was a reincarnation. The ninja's only advantage was gone.

If Cole had planned on stowing her away and then playing stupid, this was now completely impossible. They would expect him to know everything. If he couldn't locate her hideout, they would at the very least expect him to locate her corpse. Even after all these years, he could remember her original death bed in perfect clarity.

The Commissioner knew that Harumi's hours were numbered. With a case this serious, there was no way Cole would be allowed to operate without supervision. He had two choices: turn in Harumi to the police, or once again find her broken among the rubble.

His status as the only ninja with memories was being weaponized against him. There was no easy way for him to liberate Harumi and remain on the good graces of the law at the same time.

Well, it was a good thing he didn't work alone. It wasn't like the Commissioner could keep track of six fully-trained ninja at once.

"Harumi wasn't a friend," Cole said. He willed his voice to be forceful, channelling the ninja leader inside of him. "She was a monster. A dangerous, evil monster. My only regret is that I never got to take a swing at her myself."

A finger tapped Cole's neck. "You must remember more than that."

Cole found comfort in Nya's quietly terrified eyes. Her hand was balled into a fist below the table, and she seemed ready to spring from the chair at a moment's notice. She must have reached all the same conclusions as him.

The faint hum of the earpiece in his ear inspired his next words.

"Well, she was always a little closed off on the Bounty. But I do remember her being really, really good at the piano."

--

thanks for reading! i’m going to try to have this finished soon <3

[sxveme-2]

Strawberry Pancakes // Bucky Barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One With Her Uncle

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2286

     "Keep five feet away," Lily snapped, eyes not wavering from the man that stood on her porch, "Bucky go keep the kids upstairs."

No one argued with Lily as she grabbed a shoe and stepped out onto the sandalwood porch where the man stood. Her eyes stayed glued to his, though hers burned with a fiery rage that could only be described as murderous. The light spring breeze of Long Island danced along Lily's exposed legs as the door shut behind her. Everything inside of her wanted to grab the gun that Bucky always kept near the bed and threaten the man within an inch of his life, seeing as he deserved it.

But what kind of sister would she be then?

"Surprised you're even giving me the time of day," Cedar whispered, stuffing his hands deep within his pockets, "After everything that happened."

Lily stayed silent, eyes lowering as she continued to kill her brother a thousand times over in her head. He had nerve showing up at her home, where her kids were. Of course, he had no idea Stella even existed. She didn't bother keeping in contact with him or her parents when they were in prison. The only way he would have known about Stella, or Leo for that matter, would be if Rose had told him. But as far as the eldest Osborne knew, she didn't bother seeing them either.

"You have five minutes to explain how you're here before I call the police because you're trespassing," Lily stated, face blank as she stared down her brother, "Any longer and I'll throw this shoe at your head."

"Awfully small shoe for you, Bucky, and Hunter," Cedar joked, seemingly attempting to lighten the mood.

Glancing to the side, Lily noticed she had grabbed one of Stella's Crocs. She smiled softly at it before returning to her stone-cold facade. As far as Lily was concerned, Cedar had no business knowing that he had a niece sitting in the house they were both standing in front of. He had no business knowing what was going on in Lily's personal life. And she had no intention of telling him anything explicit.

"I'm going to guess that you've had another kid," Cedar sighed, "Can I at least ask her name?"

"Stella. You have three minutes," she sighed, shifting her weight.

"I was released because they dubbed me a victim," Cedar shrugged, rocking back and forth on his feet, "I have to attend court-mandated therapy and I'm on probation for a bit just in case. I got in contact with Scott and asked him where you were living now. I don't have anywhere else to go."

Lily felt her heart long to embrace her younger brother. But the rational side of her reminded him of the terrible trauma he had caused her and Hunter. The things he said to her the day he was arrested. They still haunted her at night, kept her wondering what else she could have done to help him. To protect him from the terrible things her parents forced him into. He was her baby brother, her only brother. And there he stood on her front porch, asking for help. What could she do? Say no?

"Try Rose," Lily stated simply, turning and walking back into the house without risking another glance at the frail boy on her porch.

When she shut the door, Lily saw Hunter and Bucky standing on the landing of the stairs. They both looked crestfallen and upset, but Lily didn't know what else to do. He had hurt her and her son more than words could truly describe. She used to drop everything for Cedar. And yet there she was, standing on the other side of the door where she knew he was still standing. Hoping and praying for his big sister to change her mind. He had been released on probation and as a victim. The legal system trusted him enough to let him walk free. Why couldn't she?

"He can stay in the guest room," Bucky whispered, squeezing Hunter's shoulder, "Rebecca's heading back into the city today."

Lily let out a breathy sigh before twisting the doorknob once again, opening the painted wood. Stepping around the other side, she noticed he was still there, just as she had predicted. His eyes were soft and his cheeks were hollow. It broke Lily's heart to see him in such a solemn state. This wasn't her brother. This was the same shell she had seen all of those years ago when he had asked her for help. When he needed her the most. And she used that against him.

"She's asleep, but you can meet her when she wakes up," Lily nodded, opening the door wider for her brother.

-----

An hour or so later, Lily found herself terrified for Stella to meet her Uncle. It was just the week before when she had asked if she'd ever get to meet him. It was ironic timing, to say the least. She knew that Stella would be overjoyed to meet Cedar and she was sure he'd be a dotting Uncle. But it didn't help the fact she was terrified that he would use her and manipulate her family to work in his favour.

After getting dressed in a pair of loose jeans, a flowy gray t-shirt and one of Bucky's flannels, Lily raised her daughter from a dead sleep. The young brunette whined as the light hit her eyes, earning a gentle laugh from her mother. Dressing Stella in a white shirt with frills at the top and a pair of red overalls, Lily prepared herself for the man downstairs to meet her. She brushed out her long dark hair before placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead and scooping her into her arms and shutting the door behind her.

"There's someone here who is very excited to meet you," Lily whispered into Stella's ear, earning a giggle from the girl, "Any guesses?

"...A new puppy?"

"You won't give that one up will you?" Lily laughed as she landed on the main floor of their home, "No. Chandler and Joey are enough as it is. Plus Alpine. The best I could do is get you a fish."

"Fish smell," Stella cringed, "Hunter and I went fishing. I don't like them."

Lily shook her head and laughed at her daughter's story before rounding the corner of the living room where the rest of the family sat, attempting conversation. Even from the threshold, Lily could feel the awkward tension that laid heavily in the room. Pursing her lips, the blonde continued her entry, Cedar watching her with a sad look in his eyes as he admired Stella.

"Stella, this is your Uncle Cedar," Lily cooed, placing the four-year-old down on the floor, where she ran into Bucky's legs beside her mother, "Remember you were asking about him last week?"

"Well aren't you so pretty," Cedar cooed, bending down from the couch so that he was at eye-level with the girl, "It's nice to finally meet you, Stella."

Lily watched carefully at her daughter's reaction. The best judge of character were dogs and young children. And the dogs were in the backyard, so Lily was selfishly relying on her young daughter to see. If Stella was uncomfortable with Cedar, there would be no questions. He would have to find somewhere else to say. If Hunter even showed an inkling of discomfort around his Uncle, Lily had no issue book a hotel for the man. If anyone, and she truly means anyone, found issues with Cedar, there was no doubt in Lily's mind that she would have him leave without a second thought.

"Everything alright, darling?" Bucky said in a hushed voice, running his flesh hand down Stella's, "He's your Uncle it's okay. I promise, nothing will ever hurt you. As long as I live."

"Yeah, remember meeting Aunt Mary for the first time?" Hunter piped up, "You were so confused as to why she was black and white in all her photos, same with Aunt Frances. You thought they were ghosts. But then Dad told you that we'd protect you from everything, even ghosts," he cooed, bending down so he was face to face with Stella, "Uncle Cedar won't hurt you. I promise."

Lily felt tears gather in her bottom brim, threatening to pour over as she watched her two boys comfort the young girl who was clearly hesitant with new people. She chuckled softly as Hunter raised her pointer finger, prompting his little sister to make the same promises he and Lily used to make before he went to Scott's. Lily's heart grew ten sizes as Stella wrapped her smaller finger around her big brothers before turning and walking over to her Uncle with her arm outstretched.

"I'm Stella Barnes."

-----

"You let him in your house?" Rose scoffed as she took a sip of her wine, almost spraying it all over Lily.

Lily pursed her lips as she glanced between her sister and best friend. She knew they wouldn't take it well when she told them she and Bucky agreed to let Cedar stay with them. It was only a natural reaction. Even Lily was still hesitant to let him stay. But Bucky seemed confident that it was okay and that Cedar would be fine. It surprised Lily, how much faith he had in the law and the legal system. Especially after the life he has had.

"And Stella actually went up to him?" Gen asked as she took a quick sip of her wine, "It took that girl almost a year before she even let me hold her."

It was true. Stella and Gen did not have the best start to their relationship. Despite being the baby's godmother, Stella despised Gen for the first bit of her life. If Gen even attempted to pick up the newborn, Stella would scream bloody murder. Lily was terrified that her daughter had an innate dislike towards her best friend. Luckily, the Barnes child was able to outgrow the distaste towards Gen and now looked forward to the times her 'Auntie Genny' would babysit her. Which wasn't often, seeing as both Lily and Bucky were homebodies. But it happens every once and a while.

"I was just as surprised as you guys," Lily admitted, shrugging as she leaned back in her seat at the table, "I almost cancelled dinner tonight because I was too worried to leave everyone home with him."

"Yeah but Bucky and Sam are there, so is Hunter," Rose sighed, crossing her legs and shaking her head, "I would have told him to get lost."

"I did at first," Lily chuckled, running a hand through her blonde hair, "Told him to go to you. But when I went back inside...I just couldn't do it."

She knew it wouldn't be forever. There was no way in hell she was letting Cedar squat at her home and live off of her and Bucky's hard work. He had managed to get himself into the mess. But that didn't mean Lily wouldn't be a loving big sister and let him stay for a bit. She knew Bucky agreed, seeing as he was the one who gave her the look that convinced her to let him stay.

"You said he got your address from Scott?" Rose asked, smiling as the server placed the three women's food on the table, "Wonder why that was the first place he decided to go."

"Well, it's not like he would have the nerve to show up at your place." Gen shrugged at the younger Osborne sister.

"I would have thrown one of Leo's toys at him without a second thought," Rose sighed, twirling pasta onto her fork, "The audacity he has to just show up at your doorstep though."

"He was released by the court," Lily sighed, shaking her head, "I don't trust him fully but I couldn't just toss him out onto the street. No one could survive the streets of Long Island."

"You're nicer than most people though, Lily," Gen sighed, taking another swig of wine, "I'm with Rose. Honestly surprised Bucky didn't stare him down so much he ran away in fear."

Lily chuckled softly as she cut into the chicken parmesan she had ordered. A light conversation ensued as the girls began each of their dinners, all now a bit relieved that the elephant in the room had been talked out. Lily still wasn't entirely confident in the decision she had made to allow Cedar to stay with them. She worried that he was just using her to his advantage. If that were the case, Lily had just put her entire family in danger. But it was Cedar...he was her baby brother.

Lily lifted her gaze from her food and felt the air escape from her lungs. Just across the room sat two people Lily would have killed to keep apart from one another. They were talking in hushed voices, each glancing from side to side constantly as if they were ensuring that their surroundings weren't listening in on whatever conversation they were having.

She could have gone her entire life without having to see the two of them together. Sharing a meal and talking back and forth. She wondered what on earth they could have been talking about. The only thing that they had in common was Lily. And barely so for one of the parties. But there the two sat, leaning over the table and speaking with one another as though there were unspeakable secrets being shared.

"You alright, Lil?" Gen asked, placing her hand on her best friends.

"Walker's here. With Scott."

[miki-snake]

Sick of Losing Soulmates

📖: Y/N was never lucky with relationships and lost many soulmates on her way. With her current partner though, she was ready to risk it all. 

Or - where y/n is going down on one knee💍

⭕️: mentions of past abusive relationship

🔍: 2.1k+

A/N: inspired by “sick of losing soulmates” by dodie

What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be If you hadn't found me, sitting all alone in the dark

Y/N has been through her fair share of relationships and honestly, she never had a good nose for the right guys. Her last relationship though, was by far the worst. There was no doubt that if she didn’t break out of the hell on that day, she’d still be stuck inside of that dark place. Her last partner was nothing but a manipulative and abusive asshole to her. He gave her bruises all over her body and isolated her from all of her friends. Well, there were still some people who stuck by her side through the horrible time.

What the hell would I be, without you Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth

One particular friend was also the reason why you got out of that awful situation. Tsukishima has always been a tease with a foul mouth but he was also one of your best friends. Everyone knew about your situation and you still tried to keep yourself together. You forced yourself to smile and laugh, you just didn’t want to show them how you were slowly crumbling underneath your mask. Your friends did try to get you away from the jerk but you just weren’t in the right mindset to go through with it. After some time they just stopped trying to convince you and instead they focused on making your time as enjoyable as possible with them. None of them changed the way they acted towards you and you were glad for that. Tsukishima too, didn’t change and continued with all the teasing and snarky remarks.

But one time, his teasing just seemed to trigger something inside of you and you started to cry in front of him. You couldn’t even remember what it was that he said to you, you just knew that he didn’t mean any harm by that. To say that Tsukki was shocked would be an understatement. He was never the guy that could handle a lot of feeling besides occasional annoyance. You remember how he came closer and didn’t know if he should place his arms around you or if he should say something. So he opted for option c and placed his right hand on your head to pet you.

Your mask was falling in front of him and all he could come up with was petting your head. The gesture alone made you cry harder, but not because you were sad that he didn’t say things like “It will get better soon”. No, your tears were falling because you were so happy that he was there for you. It didn’t bother him that you were falling apart right at the moment, he just waited with you until your tears ceased and not once did he stop stroking your hair.

It was on that day, when you poured out all of your pent up feelings, when you felt like you could finally breathe again. Throughout all your venting Tsukishima never left your side and slipped in one or two comments, letting you know that he was actually listening to you. Once you were done you felt how his hand left your head and grabbed your wrist instead. A soft pull led you to fall into his chest and the smell of strawberries and coffee embraced your body. You two just stood there in the middle of the street, while he held you and you swear you never felt so happy before.

Through Tsukki’s support and encouragement you broke the curse you were trapped in at last. To be honest, you’ve never been so terrified in your life as in the moment you told your fucked up, now ex-boyfriend that you were breaking up with him. He got loud, threw stuff through the room and was coming at you with his hand raised, ready to “knock some sense into you”. Of course, he couldn’t get to you because you actually came prepared. Well, you just told Tsukishima that you wanted to end things and he came up with the ideas to go save and call back-up, just in case. So, when the jerk was pouncing at you he didn’t really get that far because Daichi and Sugawara, also called the y/n protection squad, were bursting through the door to save you. Daichi full on rammed into the idiot and restrained his hands behind his back, while Sugawara was holding up his phone recording everything.

The asshole spewed out more curses and tried to wriggle himself out of Daichi’s grip but there was no chance of escaping when Daichi got angry. There wasn’t much more you remembered from that scene because Tsukishima came to get you out of there as fast as possible.

You never heard of him again and you were very glad about it. It was like you could start all over again and your friends were also happy to see you more often with a real smile on your face. You were slowly healing and getting over your past but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any remnants of your past relationship left on you.

'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

It was hard for you to believe in love again and trusting somebody in that sense became near impossible for you. Well, it wasn’t like you needed to be in a relationship anyway. You had your friends around you and you were content with how things were going. Though, you did long for someone who would truly love you from time to time. The problem wasn’t that you missed someone who would smother you with their love for you, no. The problem was that every time you would imagine someone holding you in their arms, a certain tall blonde guy with glasses plopped up in your mind.

It never occurred to you that you could be in love with one of your best friends and even then, it had to be Tsukishima? Since the day he was there for you when you broke into tears you could feel how something inside of you was changing. You were more aware of his presence and sometimes catched yourself staring at his soft features for what felt like forever. However, you were so sick of losing people and you would never want to lose Tsukishima as a friend, so you did the only thing that came into your mind. You denied your feelings. Though, over time it only got harder for you to run from your emotions, they just kept on getting stronger and you longed even more for his touch.

Slowly it got out of hand and you also started to avoid him, but never think that Tsukki wouldn’t catch up on your little changes. He saw how you tried to put more distance between you two and how you would start to panic when his eyes catched yours. It irritated him to no end because he didn’t understand why you acted so stupidly, so he just took the matter into his own hands.

Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates, won't be alone again I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

One day he had enough of your antics and he cornered you at your locker after your courses ended. You remember how he looked so annoyed and frustrated when he asked you about your suspicious behaviour. You weren’t sure if he had noticed but of course he had to expose you like that. Your face was a blushing mess and you really tried to deny everything he dished out. He blocked you when you tried to flee the scene and he was so close you could smell the faint scent of strawberries again. It was so embarrassing but somehow he got you to stutter out a confession that you tried to escape from the past few weeks.

You didn’t want to lose him as a friend, you didn’t want to be alone again. Still, it was exhausting to avoid him all of the time and you started to feel lonely without his usual teasing. Tsukishima was surprised by your sudden confession but then he gave you a light slap on the back of your head. A whine left your lips and you wanted to complain, though you were cut off by him calling you an idiot.

“And that was the reason you were stupidly ducking your head down, whenever I catched you looking at me?”, his lips held his typical smirk but you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. His hand grabbed your wrist just like back then and tucked you into his chest. You two were just standing there, in the middle of the hallway and embraced each other.

“I like you too, idiot.”

We will grow old as friends, I've promised that before so what's one more In our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

You and him have been together since that day, which was now five years ago. You two were living with each other in an apartment and it felt like nothing has changed. He was still making fun of you every chance he got but you’re also the only person who could see him in his vulnerable and soft state.

Back in the days of your toxic relationship you could’ve never imagined yourself being as happy as you are right now. You got into the career you wanted, had an independent life and all of it you could share with your fantastic boyfriend. Back then you couldn’t dream about tomorrow because there was no use for it when you were caged inside that horrible relationship. Today though, was a different story. With Tsukishima by your side you could even imagine the bright future with him as your husband and one or two children around you two. You could hope for what was going to come and the thought of tomorrow would cast a smile on your lips.

Time and hearts will wear us thin So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break Does exactly what it says on the tin Sure, nothing can be certain in life and you won’t be able to predict the future. What was now your own little paradise could turn into a nightmare by the end of the dawn. Even though there is a chance that you could be wrong about the two of you, it didn’t matter to you anymore. He was the one who held you up when you couldn’t stand on your own and he still was. He still was your save space, where you could let yourself fall and be sure of him catching you. It didn’t matter that there were statistics about how often relationships and especially marriages fail nowadays. You just wanted to think about how there was a chance of you two spending the rest of your life together.

I won't take no for an answer

And that is why you found yourself on one knee in front of your boyfriend of five years, in the living room where you two just finished your weekly documentary friday. You two were clothed in your loungewear, pillows and blankets scattered around the floor and in your hand a simple silver ring with the initials of the two of you engraved on the inside of it.

“Tsukishima Kei, you made me by far the happiest girl on earth for being my boyfriend for the last five years. You gave me so many reasons to believe in this relationship and made me feel like you and I could take on the world if we wanted to. You are my best friend, boyfriend and my soulmate. I used to believe that eventually every person would leave me, it would only be a matter of time. But with you, I dare myself to hope for a bright and fulfilling future that is waiting. I dare myself to hope that this could last against all the odds. I believe that you, my soulmate, are someone I won’t lose on the way to my dream. As I said, you made myself very, very happy back then. And today you could make me even happier with this promise of a future together.”

Without a word Tsukishima slid down from the couch and took your kneeling form into his arms. You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar scent, your arms circling around his waist while a content smile settled on your lips.

“Of course I’ll say yes...idiot.”

[scripts4dreamers]

Not Your Hero. Chapter 3

Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter four, Chapter five

AN: Y/N finds out that this second trip to the capitol may leave her with as many scars as the first but, is anything really different? It feels that way.

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation, alcohol abuse and some unhealthy coping mechanisms

Prompt/Inspiration: Pretender (acoustic) - AJR and Miss Americanah and The Heartbreak Prince - Taylor Swift

(Note: the song Y/N is hearing is A Very Good Year from Robbie Williams’ Swing When You’re Winning album)

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

Your knuckles were white where you clenched the balcony’s railing, whether from anger or shock you couldn’t yet tell. The night air was cold and refreshing against your skin but, as usual, you wished the city wasn’t always so...loud. Even now, at nearly three in the morning, the din hadn’t subsided and the sound of trains, cars, music and chatter seeped into your pours like a toxin. You took a swig from the tumbler of whiskey beside you, wincing as it burned its way down your throat like fire. You hadn’t gotten used to the taste yet but you’d been working your way through the bottle for the better part of the night and by now it was more than half gone. You’d run out of ice hours ago, not that that was going to stop you. You weren’t doing it for the flavor, you were doing it because you didn’t know what else to do. Your mind was whirling, so you drank, plain and simple.

It made sense now, you supposed, all the secrecy, the dread that had been following you for weeks, the thinly veiled looks of sympathy and concern on your friends’ faces, all of it. You took a deep breath in, trying to muster up some sort of emotion and finding none. It made sense, it was reasonable, you understood, but you should be angry, right? No one warned you. They all knew, but they said nothing, wasn’t that wrong? Shouldn’t you be angry about that? Shouldn’t you be scared? Disgusted? Heartbroken? Shouldn’t you feel something right now? Slowly, you exhaled an exhausted sigh, taking another sip from your tumbler. Well, you reasoned, you guessed not.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe when the shock wore off and the alcohol had faded and the world came back into focus, maybe then you’d feel it. In the background an old Robbie Williams record crooned on about a very good year and suddenly the sound of violins rose up through the floorboards and drowned out the noise of the city. You closed your eyes and soaked it in like a dream. For a moment, the first in a long, long time, everything was good. You were full and clean and healthy, the alcohol made you feel light and unburdened and strong and, just for that moment, it was a beautiful night. Just for a second, it was a beautiful night and nothing could touch you except the wind. Tomorrow, you promised yourself, tomorrow you would deal with Snow’s ultimatum and everything that came with it. Tomorrow you would be afraid but tonight was your night; tonight you were well and truly a Victor.

His footsteps gave him away, even though you knew he could be silent as a cat when he wanted, but you didn’t turn, holding onto your fragile perfect moment. Finnick’s profile appeared in your peripheral vision, sharp and striking against the city skyline and, without saying anything, you slid him the bottle. He took a swing of the whiskey, barely flinching, and passed it back.

“So I guess you probably hate me now,” he finally said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice, “not that I blame you, of course.”

You smiled to yourself, still facing out over the city and glancing at Finnick out of the corner of your eye. Someone had prettied him up of course, same as you but, no matter what they did, there wasn’t a stylist or prep team alive who could take more than partial credit for Finnick Odair. His skin, the way light caught on his auburn hair, the cut of his jaw, those piercing eyes; they were almost comically perfect, like someone had dreamt him into being. Sometimes stylists interfered more than they needed to and it became too much but, you noticed without meaning to, tonight they’d got it right. He was in a simple black suit, with a stiff collared white button-up, which he’d unbuttoned slightly and a bowtie, which he’d obviously undone at some point during the night. Overall, the effect was casual and debonair and let Finnick’s natural beauty take center stage. In short, he looked good, really good, so good that it made you slightly breathless. But right then, more than anything else, he looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and tensing his jaw as he stared determinedly forward. You knew that look. He was bracing for the impact, waiting for the rejection he was sure was coming.

“No,” you answered, “I don’t hate you, Finnick. I understand why you did what you did.”

Even from your periphery, you saw his double take and you smiled to yourself again, meeting his eye for the first time since his arrival. Your smile seemed to confuse Finnick even more and the look on his face was so sweet and endearing that it made your heart pinch.

There was a brief pause where you just looked at one another, sizing each other up like strangers, before Finnick managed to ask, “Why not?”

The alcohol in your blood thrummed and pulsed, keeping you happy and light and you shrugged, taking another sip from your tumbler, “What would telling me have done, really?” you answered, “I already knew something bad was coming, I just didn’t have the specifics figured out, that’s all.” You continued, turning back to the city, “And, even if you did tell me, we couldn’t have done anything about it. If Snow wants me to be his personal whore, there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him. He could have blown my head off in that office and no one could have done a damn thing about it. Compared to that, I’d say I got off easy.” you finished, smiling ruefully.

Finnick nodded, “I did want to.” he said, “Tell you, I mean. That first night in your room, I really considered it.”

“But?”

“But I wanted you to have a few more days.” he admitted, “Once you know-” he shrugged, “well, you don’t really forget a thing like that, do you?”

“No, I don’t imagine you do,” you laughed, earning a tired smile from Finnick.

You lapsed into comfortable silence, ruminating on the night together, as you had done on many nights over the last few days. After that first night, when you realised the depth of your affection for one another, you and Finnick had fallen into a sort of unspoken routine. During the day you socialised and mingled, you smiled and joked with the others and kept your distance but every evening, as night fell, you would inevitably find yourselves drawn back together, back to the safety and comfort of your room. Once, you’d simply stayed up through the night talking, swapping stories from home and fears for the future but, more often, one of you would succumb to sleep and be tucked in by the other, who would then sleep in the comfortable armchair. Usually the nightmares would draw you out of sleep at some point but, when they did, Finnick was there and maybe that made it easier, maybe you weren’t so afraid of sleep anymore, so long as he was with you. And maybe it helped him too, maybe that’s why he kept coming back.

You looked over at him again, turning your body so you could study his profile intently. He looked sad, you noticed, so sad that it hurt to look at him and you wanted to reach out, close that distance between your bodies and touch. That was one thing you never did. Not after that first day. Whether it was because you were both victors and physical contact was something of a trigger, or it was some sort of instinctual sense of self-preservation, clinging to that separation like a safety net while you bared your souls didn’t really matter. The fact remained. The only time you and Finnick ever touched one another was in the moments just after a nightmare, when the panic was fresh in your blood and you needed an anchor to bring you back into the present. Only then, under the cover of complete darkness, would either one of you reach out to the other for comfort and, even then, he would only rest his hand on the small of your back for a moment, for as long as it took for your breathing to even out. As soon as that happened, Finnick would pull back and reinstate the distance, as though your skin might burn him even through your clothes. Just another unspoken rule, another limit, something you were more than happy to stick to if it meant keeping Finnick around.

But tonight, with the alcohol and the music and the lights, it felt different. Tonight you wanted to close that distance, to feel if his skin was as smooth as it looked, or if his hands were as rough as you remembered. You wanted to touch him, to see if it felt as electric and thrilling and dangerous when the lights were on as it did in those few stolen moments in the darkness. More than that, you wanted him to let you, and to touch you back.

You shook your head to clear it, your heart pounding in your chest as you realised how far your thoughts had strayed. It wasn’t your place, you reminded yourself sternly, Finnick was your friend. He trusted you. You watched him take another swig from the whiskey bottle, long and deep this time, and tried not to focus too hard on his lips.

“You done staring yet, kid?” he asked with a hint of fondness, shooting you a look that made you blush and look away.

“I told you not to call me kid,” you said, settling in to the old, comfortable argument.

“But you are a kid,” Finnick smiled.

“I’m two years younger than you,” you protested for the millionth time, “if I’m a kid, you’re a kid too.”

He shrugged, “True enough, but I’m still less of a kid than you, kid.”

“Yeah well, I’m less of an ass than you.” you shot back without any real malice.

Finnick chuckled; a soft, rolling sound that always sent a shiver down your spine, “That’s also true enough.” he answered quietly.

You let the silence stretch on for a second but, now that you’d started talking, it was like you couldn’t stop and words just kept bubbling up in your chest, fighting to slip out into the cool night air.

“I was just thinking,” you finally said, taking a half a step closer, one hand still on the railing.

“About?”

“Your nightmares,” you answered honestly, “this is what they’re about, isn’t it? It’s not the arena, it’s Snow and his...customers.”

Finnick sighed, looked back at you and then down at the whiskey, “This stuff is disgusting.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment but you shrugged, “It’s all I could steal on my way out of Snow’s office, and I didn’t want to go back down to the party after that.”

Finnick nodded like he understood and pushed himself up off the railing, “Wait here.” he commanded as he vanished back into the mansion.

You wanted to shoot back something clever and snarky about how he wasn’t the boss of you, but your heart wasn’t in it. Instead you took a seat at one of the two sun loungers someone had forgotten to remove and listened to Finnick’s footsteps as he took the stairs two at a time and disappeared back down into the thrum of the party. As soon as you couldn’t hear him anymore, you pressed your hand to your chest and swore loudly when you saw that it was shaking.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered, resting your forehead in your palms, “it’s Finnick. It’s just Finnick.”

Up until tonight you thought you’d had your feelings under control. They were confusing and inconvenient and messy and wonderful but they’d never been dangerous, they’d never been so strong that it felt like they were pulsing just under your skin, itching to get out. It was scary but, a small voice in your head whispered, it was also sort of thrilling. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Finnick return with three bottles of champagne.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he said without meeting your eye, “had to sneak into the kitchen to get these. I figured, since it’s technically your party, they wouldn’t mind.”

You forced a smile, taking a bottle without brushing his fingers, “They aren’t missing me?”

“If they have any brains at all they’re missing you terribly,” Finnick smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the lounger you were on and getting to work opening the bottle he was holding, “but between you disappearing into Snow’s office and 98% of them being roaringly drunk, I don’t think they’ve noticed; no.” He finished, “Ah, there we go.”

As he said that, he managed to pop the cork and bubbles spilled over the neck and onto the lounger. You laughed and leaned forward, grabbing the bottle and sucking up the sweet bubbles without thinking. Finnick laughed, shaking his hand dry as you drank. The champagne made your head feel light and airy, but it was undoubtedly better than whiskey and it was only once the bubbles had subsided that you passed the bottle back to Finnick.

“Not bad, Y/N/N,” he smiled, “not bad at all.”

“For a kid, you mean,” you teased.

“Of course,” he assured, “for a kid.”

You shrugged, “Spillage is sippage, Haymitch taught me that.”

“Terrible influence, that one,” Finnick smiled, taking a swig from the open bottle, “I love him.”

“Me too.”

Finnick sighed, steeling himself for something unpleasant, and passed you the bottle. You drank, but kept your eyes on him, not pushing, just waiting. Eventually he turned to face you and pulled his leg up onto the lounger, so his knee was brushing yours. It was unintentional, you reasoned, but that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat like a rabbit and staying there as you held his gaze, passing the bottle back. As you did, you shivered and Finnick’s brow creased with concern.

“Shit, Y/N/N, you’re cold,” he said, pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders before you could do much more than mumble that you were fine.

“Thanks,” you blushed, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself.

He nodded and looked down at the bottle in his hands, tensing his jaw thoughtfully. In one fluid motion he raised it to his lips and he drank deep.

“It’s both,” Finnick finally said, “the arena and Snow, in my nightmares.” he explained when you looked up at him questioningly, “Sometimes one, sometimes the other, but usually both.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Finnick smiled ruefully, examining the bottle in his hand, “fuck Y/N/N,” he swore, looking up suddenly and meeting your eye, “I’m so sorry. I never-I wish I could-”

His intensity shocked you but, as he looked down again he looked so defeated that your heart ached and he suddenly seemed fragile. Without giving yourself a moment to doubt or second guess, you leaned forward and touched his forearms gently. He flinched, but didn’t pull away, meeting your gaze head on, a question flickering at the edge of his piercingly green eyes. Whatever he saw in your eyes must have been enough because you felt his muscles relax under your palms.

“I’m sorry, Fin. I can’t even imagine how hard these last four years have been for you.” you said gently.

Finnick flushed and, when he did, he looked young, “They couldn’t really touch me for the first two years,” he explained, “they had to wait until I was of age.”

You shook your head and tightened your grip slightly, “That doesn’t make it better, Fin. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, looking at you with some unidentifiable emotion, “Thanks, Y/N.”

You shivered. Something about hearing Finnick say your name, your full name, always made you feel vulnerable and exposed. Maybe it was because, when he said it, you knew he was seeing you, like really seeing you. Maybe it was because you liked that. Maybe you just liked the way he made it sound.

You knew you should pull your hands back, end the moment, go back to joking and laughing with one another but you didn’t. It felt too good and you were just drunk enough to be selfish about it. There was a sincerity, you realised, to the way Finnick was looking at you right now, like you were something precious to him, something valuable. It felt heavy and meaningful and...warm. But there was also a sadness there, a longing for something, like he wanted to talk but couldn’t, a fear. Fear of what you weren’t sure; rejection? Hurt? Cruelty? You were sure he’d never looked at you like that before.

Or maybe he has, a voice in the back of your head whispered, maybe you just couldn’t see his face in all that darkness.

You opened your mouth to talk but paused just before the words left your lips. Instead you just moved your hands down Finnick’s forearms, until your fingers brushed over his palms and you were gripping his hands. Some small part of your brain noted that they felt exactly how you remembered them, but it was quickly silenced by the rush of electricity that shot through your fingertips the moment your skin touched his. You heard his voice catch and looked up just in time to see the flash of fear that ran through Finnick’s eyes.

“Was there another reason,” you asked quietly, your heart pounding in your ears, “that you didn’t want to tell me about Snow?”

Finnick looked down at your hands, swallowing hard and squeezing your hand tight, as though he was afraid it might slip away.

“Finnick,” you pressed gently, “talk to me.”

If Finnick saying your name had had an effect on you, hearing you say his shook him to the core.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he said quickly, avoiding your eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like a capitol plaything,” he answered, his mouth curling like the words tasted bitter, “like Snow’s puppet.”

You frowned, “Fin, I’d never-I don’t see you that way. That’s not what you are!” you insisted. Finnick gave you a disbelieving look and you felt that rush of protective fire in the pit of your stomach again.

There were so many things you wanted to say at once that you couldn’t decide, so you did the only thing you could think to do to get your point across; you leant forward and kissed him. For a horrible second Finnick just froze and you were convinced that you’d made a terrible mistake but then, like a switch had flipped in his head, he melted into your arms and pulled you tight against his body. You sighed into the kiss, revelling in it like sunlight because kissing Finnick...wow. Kissing Finnick felt like injecting liquid light directly into your veins; it felt like looking out over the ocean right before a storm. It drowned out everything else; every car, every train, every bit of ambient noise that could distract from the man in your arms faded into nothing and you lost yourself. If it wasn’t for Finnick’s steadiness, his surety, you were sure you would have simply burned up and ceased to exist. It was too much and not nearly enough. It was electric and passionate and gentle and good and and and…And it was over too soon.

You broke apart, breathing heavily, with your foreheads resting against each other. Finnick opened his mouth to speak but, before he could say something self deprecating and untrue, you pressed your fingers to his lips and met his gaze head on.

“Finnick Odair, you are the bravest, funniest, kindest and most infuriating person I’ve ever met.” you started, “You are not a plaything, or a puppet. You’re doing what you have to do to keep the people you care about safe. That’s all any of us can do, that’s what it means to be a victor and-and now it’s my fight too. We’re in this together, okay?”

Finnick nodded, the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, “Okay.”

You went to move away but Finnick kept you close, his eyes glinting with steely determination.

“Fin?”

“I won’t let him hurt you, Y/N,” he swore, “not like he hurt me. I won’t, I’ll-”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, “don’t-don’t promise me that. Just promise you’ll be there for me when he does, okay?” you asked, feeling, for the first time, the prickly hand of dread on your back, “Promise I won’t be alone?”

Finnick looked sad but he cupped your cheek and nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, soft as a petal.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Mhmm?”

“It’s nearly the end of the party, before we go, will you dance with me?”

You looked up, shocked by the depth of emotion you felt in Finnick’s eyes. He reached out his and you took it, letting him pull you up and guide you back inside. You were halfway down the staircase before you realised you were still wearing his jacket but, when you tried to give it back, he just shook his head. Something was bubbling in the pit of your stomach now, like the champagne from earlier, a blend of anxiety and anticipation all swirling together and making you alert. Every step brought you closer and closer, made the music louder and louder, made your heart beat faster and faster. And, all the while Finnick stood right beside you, steady as ever. From the base of the staircase you could see it all, the corridor across from where you were that led to the president’s quarters, the gardens behind that and the grand mahogany stairs standing between you and the dancefloor.

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

Finnick stopped on the last stair, taking a moment for himself, just one; to remember you in exactly the way you were in that moment, windswept and free and totally his, with smudged lipstick and his blazer around your shoulders, holding his hand like he was some sort of lifeline. It was surreal, everything he’d been dreaming of since the moment he’d seen you all those days ago. Could it really have only been nine days? He hardly felt like the same person now that he was then. There was so much he wanted to tell you, so much you needed to talk about and workout before this could be anything real but, god he wanted it to be. He wanted to take you home with him right then and press a thousand kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your neck, your collarbones. He wanted to touch and hold and protect and claim. He wanted you to be his, like this forever. Something stirred in his chest, strong and undeniable, like a tidal wave poised to crash onto the shore. There would be time, he promised himself, lots of time but for now, he just had to get you through tonight. 

You were still clutching his hand, worrying at the inside of your cheek as you looked out across the seas of brightly coloured people drunkenly swaying around the dancefloor.

He kissed you then, because he couldn’t not, and the look in your eyes when he pulled away was sweet enough to sustain him through the next three years at least.

“By the way, you look beautiful tonight, Y/N,” he whispered, “I don’t think I mentioned that earlier. I should have.”

You blushed and something near his heart pinched, “You look beautiful too, Fin.”

“Yeah but that’s a given,” he teased, slipping his jacket from your shoulders and wishing, more than anything that he could just walk out there with his hand in yours and his head held high, “you’re the unknown entity, kid.”

You laughed and took the elbow he was offering, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief as the tension leached out of your body, “Remind me to never compliment you again.” you smiled.

“It was a horrible decision on your part, I can feel my ego swelling as we walk.”

You laughed as he led you to the top of the second staircase. Heads were turning in your direction rapidly now and, not for the first time in his life, Finnick wished for anonymity. He wished he was just another man, staring up at you in wonder, hoping to catch the attention of a pretty girl at a party.

As if you could sense the shift in his mood, you leant up and whispered in his ear, “Also don’t think you can call me ‘kid’ anymore, since you had your tongue in my mouth like five minutes ago.”

It took every ounce of poise Finnick had to not just break down and ruin the whole act right there but he managed. Just.

“Remind me why I want to dance with you again?” He said softly as you reached the dancefloor, placing your right hand on his shoulder and lifting your left in his.

You shrugged and followed his lead, “You guess is as good as mine.”

As you looked up, Finnick felt his breath catch in his throat. You were so close. Close enough that he could see each of your eyelashes, and smell the sweet, fruity perfume that you sprayed in your hair every day and your lips, god your lips. He would never be able to look at them again, not without wanting to kiss you until they bruise. What would happen if he did? Surely whatever happened would be worth it for one more taste of that heavenly adrenaline.

“Fin,” you whispered, snapping him out of his daydreams, “Why did you want to dance with me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered honestly, “and because, it’s your night and-” he smiled sadly, “and because I’ve always hated this place and now, no matter what happens, I can say I slow-danced with someone I cared about, in a beautiful house, surrounded by beautiful people, none of whom could hold a candle to her, and enjoyed it before I died.”

“One good memory here,” you agreed.

“Yeah, one good memory, to help cancel out all the bad.”

And Y/N Y/LN, he thought to himself, you’re the best memory I’ve got.

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