#it's even worse when it starts kinda rough. hands and knees forehead to the floor BEGGING i swear it gets better i swear it gets better i se

[skrunksthatwunk]

gritting my teeth so hard sparks fly out why is it so hard to ask people to sit down and watch something you like with you

[wearywinchester]

Hold On

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When you’re injured on a hunt with a shapeshifter, Dean’s there to make sure you’re okay.

Requested by Anonymous: “Come here, I’ll carry you”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: injuries, mentions of blood, mild swearing, fluff, kissing

A groan.

That’s all you could manage as you tipped your head back and let it thud against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as another groan fell past your lips. You were nothing short of exhausted as you slumped against that wall, one that surely had the outline of your body indented in it from where you’d been thrown earlier. Just how early it’d been, you weren’t really sure about that part.

What you were sure of was the incessant burning across your knuckles and the pressure behind your cheekbone, knowing for certain there was a cut running along your skin there. You were increasingly aware of the way your knee had a dull throb to it, your ankle a million times worse. That familiar pressure radiated behind your eyes as the tears stung and burned, frustration having built up and nearly boiled over. Between the pain of your injuries and the embarrassment you felt for getting them, it was enough to have them rolling down your cheeks, hot on your skin.

It was a shifter. One that’d turned into your very own twin, adding to the strangeness of it all when it cornered you in a room by yourself, the room you currently sulked in with the inability to get very far.

The saying you are your own worst enemy had taken on a meaning you never quite thought of in that moment, one that had your brows furrowing and the anger simmering within you. You knew it’d used your looks to it’s advantage for the brothers you came with, for Dean. You were his sweet spot and it seemed as though every monster in the very world you lived in knew that very fact and took full advantage of the seemingly universal knowledge.

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was the fact that you’d gotten separated from the pair and were reduced to a hobble should you want to get up and find your way to them. That would be simple if you knew where they were—you’d heard some yelling and a miscellaneous shot fired, but it wasn’t enough to pinpoint where your beau had been.

Your hands were trembling as you brought them up to your face, adrenaline still having its hold on you as you rub your hands down your face despite the jolt of pain making itself known when your hand ran over your cheek. You grit your teeth and curse under your breath at the sensation, fists balling in your momentary irritation before they relax once more.

All around you were heaps of broken glass from windows and cabinets, shards of snapped wood joining it on the floor and you were fairly certain you were sitting on more than a few of those pieces. The couch was overturned and it’s cushions splay around the room in places cushions shouldn’t be, the table split down the middle and sitting in a pile of rubble much like the rest of the room. The paintings and pictures on the walls were torn, the glass in some of the frames broken and from where you’d thrown them in self defense. Something that also took on a new meaning.

You were tired, fatigue weighing you down as your heart hammered in your chest and sweat coated your skin. You were tired and miserable and desperately wanted to call it a day. A bubble bath seemed like a dream to you in that moment, contrasting to the way you felt having currently been covered in dirt and blood and sweat and most freshly—tears.

Your jaw tenses as tightly as you could manage when you rolled to your side, palm pressed to the floor as you leaned on your good knee. It was no easy feat getting yourself up off that floor, the smallest bit of pressure upon your ankle nearly sending you over the edge as you stood to your feet with a tear rolling down your cheek. Balance was something you lacked in that moment, never something you had down to begin with but it paled in comparison to this as you caught yourself on the wall.

“I am never hunting again,” you grumble to yourself, huff leaving your lips though you knew it was a lie.

“Y/n?”

You gaze lifted to the owner of the voice, relief washing over you as he crossed the room in as little as three strides. “Dean? Please tell me it’s really you because I can’t do a round two with that thing.”

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart,” he says, brows furrowing as his hand comes up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing over your skin as the tips of his fingers hover over the very curve of your ear.

You could see every emotion that expressed on his face, that filled his eyes as they bounced over every inch of your face at each and every scrape and scratch and bump and bruise. You could see the myriad of questions and arguments sitting on the tip of his tongue on how you should have been more careful, how he shouldn’t have let you leave his side this time. It wasn’t hard to see, even if he’d deny it till he was blue in the face if you’d said those very things you saw.

His eyes fall closed for a moment as the relief falls over him, his forehead pressing to yours as his jaw tenses. He feels the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what’d happened to you and at the very fact that he couldn’t do anything about it. Wasn’t there to help you. If he was, your hands wouldn’t be shaking so much and you wouldn’t have those tears in your eyes that pull at his heart every time he sees them. You wouldn’t be shifting on your feet as you try and stand on a messed up ankle and you wouldn’t have felt scared. You hadn’t said it but he knew you were.

You wouldn’t be hurt.

“You okay?” He asks instead, nose bumping yours softly in the close proximity.

“Take a wild guess, Winchester,” you said, lips quirking up in a soft smile.

He pulls back to look at you then, lips pursed as the crease between his brows deepens. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, getting yourself an eye roll.

You muster up the strength to push past him, all hobbles with just an ounce of balance as your face twists in immediate discomfort. The groan you try to muffle doesn’t get past green eyes behind you, especially not the gasp you’re quick to inhale when that ever familiar searing pain burns up the length of your leg. It was beyond you how you thought you could play it off, but even then you still didn’t give up your efforts.

“Y/n,” he started, a warning tone in his voice mixed with exasperation.

“I’m fine, Dean. I got it,” you insist, though the half cry leaving your lips right after is less than helping your case.

“Would you quit it with the macho tough guy act?” He says and you’re quick to flash him a glare. His brows raise and he throws his hands up. He was right and he knew it. “Come here, I’ll carry you.”

“Are you crazy?” Your glare remains as your head tilts, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, ‘m not letting you walk so deal with it.”

You sigh as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, one you try desperately to stave off as you roll your eyes. He turns on his heel and squats down, head turning and brow raising as he waits. A huff sounds and so does a stifle noise of discomfort as you move, your hands pressing to his shoulders as you climb on his back. His hands rest behind your thighs as he stands tall, your arms wrapping around his neck as your head rests against his.

A quiet apology is immediate at the sound of your muffled complaints when your ankle is jostled more than you’d prefer, soft and sweet. You tightened your grip around him then, your chin resting on his shoulder as he kicked the busted door open, careful not to let it hit you.

The rain was drizzling outside as he started along the trail back to the car, the droplets cold against your skin as they pelted down over you at a steady pace.

“You’re taller than I thought,” you mumble, a teasing smile on your lips. “Maybe I should stop calling you short stack.”

His chuckle rumbles against you and you can’t see the grin on his face but boy was he sporting the sweetest smile as he shook his head at your words. “Oh really?”

“Yeah really,” you say, laughing to yourself. “But you are shorter than Sam, so I’m gonna have to take it back, short stack.”

He squeezes your good leg in playful retaliation, head shaking some more as he hikes you up further on his back. Even when you’re hurting you never miss the chance to pick on him and he swears you’re the embodiment of sunshine, he knows you are but he doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

“I meant it when I said you were a pain,” he says, his grin in his words.

You laughed then, one that has him smiling like a fool. You sigh softly, another laugh falling from your lips.

“I can’t believe I kicked my own ass,” you say, brows furrowing as you thought about it and his own laughter was immediate. It wasn’t all too amusing half an hour ago but in the current moment, it was kinda comical you will admit.

“You kicked mine too.”

You sigh, quiet and gentle as you look ahead over his shoulder. His stubble is rough against your cheek as your skin brushes against it, your hand that dangled over in front of him patting his chest.

“De?” You say softly, eyes focused on his boots with every step in the mud and gravel. He hummed. “You really are sweet.”

Sweet. It was something you called him often, something he’d beg to differ on because he feels you deserve more, but that isn’t even something he’d argue with you on. He knows full well he’d lose. But it’s got him smiling, one that only widens when you kiss his cheek and your smile presses into his skin, paired with a soft press of your lips to the corner of his mouth when he turns his head. He stops in his tracks and tips his head back, kissing you once, twice, three times before he turns once more and continues by the path.

It’s his wordless I love you, his wordless acceptance of your words as he’s got that goofy smile on his lips he’s glad you can’t see. You know you’ll be just fine as long as you’ve got him, and he knows he’s not going anywhere.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey

[thefanbasewhore]

Two idiots

Summary || Bucky is an idiot who gets captured during a mission, his girlfriend is an even bigger idiot and goes after him.

Warning/content || This is kinda goofy but kidnapping is a warning I guess? Reader gets a little roughed up.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x female reader (no use of y/n)

Not edited

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky mumbles, head thumping against the metal pole as eyes narrow, watching one of his capturers shuffled in. Which is nothing out of the ordinary, except that trashing girl in his death grip.

Bucky's lips form an unpleased line, frustration shown in the way wrinkles form on the skin of his forehead. Her arms are tied behind her back, no doubt with the same, unbreakable one that burns his skin. She's trashing, fighting to get out of the man's hold but one of the hands tighten against her upper back and force her head forward.

At the very moment she notices her dark haired lover, relief is prominent along her features, a small breath released but she doesn't get much time because the large hand tightenings around her arm, bruises already starting to form as he pushes her forward.

"Ow! Don't be so rough asshole!" Bucky grimaces at her words, watching her face contort with pain. His top lip raises in a snarl, a warning to the man but he doesn't even take the time of day to look at Bucky.

"I thought I told you not to come." She doesn't even get time to reply, instead a small gasp falls from lips as an unexpected hand grips her hair and roughly brings her to her knees. He mentions for her to move over, to be back to back with Bucky before typing them together.

"Leave her alone asshole." Buck's jaw clenches with every word, the belly of muscles popping through showing his disapprovement of the way the man his touching his girl. "Don't be so rough with her."

He expects the stupid, cruel laugh but not the rather large knee cap to the face.

Bucky groans in pain as the skin of his bottom lip rips from the impact, the bitter, metallic tastes floods his mouth as he sucks it between his teeth to nurse the pain. He peers up at the man with a devilish smirk and spits the blood-salvia mixture right on his boots.

"Keep it up Soldat and your little girlfriend will get it." The warning is enough to make his blood run cold and head drop to the floor, not wanting to take the risk.

"Soldat? Bucky, what's going on?" The question is asked as soon as the room is cleared. Bucky feels slightly smaller finger tips reach for his own. Without a second thought he holds them, warming them between his own, a silent 'everything is going to be fine.'

"I told you not to come." Bucky breaks the silence, clearly annoyed, his tone does very little to hide it. Spitting the pooling blood onto the floor once again.

As a a response she rolls her eyes, feeling his fingers intertwine with her own. "It's been three days since you checked in, I knew something was wrong and here you are."

"I specifically told you before I left -."

"I know what you told me!" She sna and pulls her fingers away as irritation wrinkles the skin between her brows.

It's not visible, but Bucky pouts to himself, blindly reaching out to grasp her hands again. "I'm sorry Hun, I just don't want you near these people."

It's not that she's not capable, any other mission she would be his first choice, lover or not. It's the reasoning why, they want the Winter Soldier who is no longer. A part of his life he has promised to get far, far away from her.

"They called you Soldat."

"Not Hydra." Bucky mumbles as large thumb rubs soft circles into the palm of her hand. The heat of his body leaning against her, the suboccipital of his head using her shoulder for some kind of support. He's exhausted from holding himself up, legs ached to stand again. "But they want the Winter Soldier. Keep asking what the words are."

"How did they get you anyways?"

"Don't want to talk about it." Irritation is written across his features, in the way his forehead creases, smile lines dropping downward to follow the line of his pursed lips.

He waits as she struggles, shifting weight from her left to her right, pulling hands apart for the low chance her kidnapper managed to not tighten the zip tie all the way but there is no use.

"Honey, what makes you think If I, a super soldier couldn't get out of here, that you can?"

"Jeeze, you're a grump today." She murmurs as Bucky huffs, baby blues rolling at the comment. Shifting back and forth, pulling as hard as she could until the makeshift cuffs pull the hair on her arms.

"Stop, you're going to hurt yourself." Bucky's tone is sharp, gruff as he leans further against the pole, completely given up.

"Don't Tell me what to do." She argues, Bucky doesn't even have to see it to know she's sticking her tongue out at him.

"Real mature."

"Well you're being mean! I came here to help you --." She begins, but the sharp breath Bucky exhales shows frustration, shifting from hip to hip to relieve the soreness of his backside.

"I told you not to come, I told you three times."

"What was I supposed to do? Leave you here, like this?" Frustration clearly shown by the way her forehead wrinkles and bitting her bottom lip.

"Yes!"

"God, you are so stubborn. What are we supposed to do now? These idiots don't know that you're not the winter soldier anymore." Despite feeling totally hopeless, her eyes run across the room, looking for something, anything to get them free.

"I tried telling them -."

"Wait, wait, they don't know you're the winter soldier anymore." The thought forms a smile on her lips, shifting a little closer to lean into Bucky.

"You just said that." Lack of sleep and food has made Bucky a little sluggish, weak but he's had worse.

"I love you to death, but when I get out of here I'm going to strangle you." Bucky snorts at her words,"I mean that I can say I know the words, given them to you and -."

"They'll untie me." A smile forms at the corner of his lips at the thought. His backside ached, body crunched over for days, he wanted nothing more then to stand.

"Bingo baby, when he comes back I'll tell him." She starts, "We should make noise and get someone's attention."

"God you are so fucking smart, why are you with me?"

"Buck, shut up." He can't help but chuckle, surprisingly clam despite the situation. With soft, circular motions finger tips touch her own, feeling every ridge that so uniquely defined. It's his own way of showing how much he's missed her; it's only been a few days but more then often thoughts of her fill his memory.

"I missed you."

"This isn't the time Buck, we need to get them in her-."

"You look beautiful."

A small smile fills the lines of her lips, bitting down of the fat of the bottom one as she looks down at the floor. "You can't even see me."

"Don't have to honey." The words are sweet and she wishes she could just turn around and kiss his dumb, stupid face with that lopsided grin until he speaks again, "you're the most beautiful girl in the world, even though you can't listen for shit -."

Before she could even comment the clicking of the door has the pair sitting straight as a smirk pulls on lips. "Show time babydoll, start crying."

"You start crying!"

"We have to make it believable! Cry and say that you know the words and the only way you'll give them up is they let you go." He's whisper yelling now as the foot steps clank the floor and every loud echo makes her visibly gringe.

"Okay, okay, shut up already, I am crying to concentrate!" Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, putting on his own little show.

A pair of black boots blur in front of her as false tears blur her vision. While he doesn't touch her, the man sinks to one knee, hovering only inches away. "Why are you crying girl?"

"I want to go home." Bucky has to hold in a laugh at the fake sob but manages to stay quiet. "Let me go, please, please."

***

The moment the words are muttered from the man's mouth, Bucky stiffens, the words effortlessly falling from his lips in German. "Ready to comply."

They don't suspect a think as one reaches over, knife in hand to cut the ropes. Bucky stands at attention, a lonely, dark void in his eyes.

One man observes him, despite how Bucky towers over him. "Soldat, kill her."

The way he stalks over, the darkness in his eyes is so believable that she even think there's a chance that the trigger words did work like intended. Bucky's fingers press against her jawline, angling her to look up. Bucky frowns suddenly, heading the voice behind him. "Kill her."

It all happens so fast, Bucky starts right into action, metal arm connecting with the man's face as blood drips onto the cement only inches away from her current position.

A roar rips from the other man's chest as he fully engages Bucky but with one swift movement Bucky's hand wraps around his throat, hearing gasping breath as Bucky slams him so hard into the ground it winds him.

One at a time they get up, time after time until they both manage to get the upper hand, pulling and pulling at both of his arms until Bucky gets so get up he lets out a grunt as he pushes both away with super human strength.

The problem is one of the men came tumbling right towards her, full body weight knocking her from her seated position into side lying but that's not what worried Bucky. The sound of her skull hitting the ground with such force, it makes him feel sick. With both men down, he hurries towards her.

"Ow." She hisses trying to pick herself up from the ground, the rough rope scratching her wrist. Hands bound behind her back aren't enough to lift her back up, no matter how hard she struggles.

"I gotcha, I gotcha." Bucky's hands find her shoulder, squeezing it affectionately once she's upright and pulling the ropes off with ease. Hands cup her cheeks with side to side motions, steel blues look over for an injury as angles her eyes to meet his own.

The light is suddenly so bright, a thick, white cast makes her wince and as a result squeezing her eyes shit. For a moment everything is gone, a sheet of black as sight disappears behind eyelids. The hand against the back of her head pulls her from a deep void, opening her eyes to a sight of a very, very worried Bucky. His hand is gently tapping against her cheek - to wake her nonetheless, concern laces his eyes, creates a wrinkle of confusion between dark brows.

His lips are moving but there's nothing to hear, he's watching her eyes fall hooded, all color draining as blood pressure starts to decline. It was too hard, she hit her head too hard.

"Honey, hey, hey look at me." It falls on deaf ears, fingers gently prod against the base of her skull, around the curve of her ears, looking for a wound, or even blood but there's nothing. A metal finger presses under her chin, begging falling eyes to give some sign of consciousness. "Does it hurt? Where does it hurt, babe?"

The groan of pain that leaves her lips is a small piece of relief, a hand reaches out to push the hair from frames the soft structure of her face. "Baby? God, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Mmmmm." The soft hand reaches out, up the distance of hair arm, over the muscular bulges of his arm before laying flat against the swell of his chest. The hand pushes, trying to create as much distance as possible. It was hard to breath, he was smothering her.

Bucky didn't let up, only pulled her closer until her forehead rest against his lateral clavicle, supporting all her body weight as a nose nuzzles into his chest. He lets out a breath of relief, one hand wrapped around the base of her back, rubbing soothing circles against the skin and the other curling into the base of her skull, with gentle fingers. "You scared me."

"'m fine, Buck."

"Your head sounded like a nut cracking on the pavement." He argues, still examinating for any blood or wound. "I know I call you peanut brain all the time but I was just kidding."

"You are the most annoying -." The words are cut short by a pair of dry, pink lips, lovingly pressing against her own. The full thickness of his bottom lip pressing between her own, long and sweet, filled with unspoken words; Thank goodness you're okay, I don't know what I would do without you.

Bucky pulls away, pressing her forehead against his chest, his arm wrapping around to coddle and away with her. It's mumbled under his breath, "You scared me, baby."

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Four

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Language, Fluff, Sickness, Minor Injuries, Trigger warning kinda but not as bad as the last chapter

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: here you go! I say fuck a posting schedule lol

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~*~

You sleep for a long time.

Nearly three days.

Bucky grows increasingly worried with each day that goes by that you don’t open your eyes. It gets to the point where he’s tempted to call a doctor, but he has no idea how he would explain it to them.

You finally wake up, in the afternoon of the third day, and Bucky is so relieved he could cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, helping you sit up when he sees you start to struggle. You look around curiously, confused until your eyes land on the gauze wrapped around your arms.

You look up at him, bottom lip wobbling, and he shakes his head, shushing you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” During the days when you were unconscious, it was a struggle to keep the soldier at bay. He won the fight every night though, the guilt weighing heavier than the desire to fuck.

“Why didn't you let me die?” You whimper, sorrow in your eyes. He rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs.

“You called me a monster, and I got mad because I didn’t want you to be right. And then I proved your point. I just... the monster is there, inside of me. I can usually keep him at bay but... I know it’s not an excuse, and I may never make it up to you, but I didn’t want to hurt you the way that I did. I... it’s like I wasn’t in control of my own hands.” You don’t reply, keeping your eyes on your arms.

“I’m gonna go make you some soup. You’ve been asleep for three days. You need to eat. And drink. Okay?” You nod glumly, still emotionally numb as your mind tries to block out everything that happened.

Bucky’s only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a steaming bowl of soup and a plastic cup full of water. He hands you the water first, and your hands shake as you grab it. You take a small sip the grimace as your stomach flips.

“I know you probably don’t want to, but you’ve gotta eat just a little bit. Okay?” You nod and let him spoon feed you the soup. It’s good. Chicken noodle, from what you can tell, but no matter how good it tastes or how warm it feels going down, your stomach doesn’t want it.

You gag, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Bucky curses, putting the soup on the side table and grabbing you in his arms. He rushes into the bathroom but he’s not fast enough. What little you ate comes rushing back up, spewing out of your mouth and all over yourself and a little on him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too grossed out.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as a dizzy spell overwhelms you. He sets you down carefully on the counter, peeling the sweater off of you and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. You take shallow breaths, body aching.

He turns the shower on then rids himself of his clothes before doing the same to you. The two of you are naked in no time, and then he’s bringing you into the shower, the water a little too cool for your liking, but you don’t have it in you to complain.

He holds you upright, hands supporting your weight as the water pelts down on the two of you. You feel like everything is spinning, so you lay your head against his chest and take deep breaths in through your mouth. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs your back gently.

“You’re okay.” He grabs a loofa and squirts some body wash on it, then starts gently washing your body.

His actions are innocent enough until he gets between your legs. It’s like you can sense the switch when he goes from Bucky to Soldier.

His hands grip you just a little firmer, his breathing is a little harder, his eyes dark and slightly glazed over. He pushes you against the wall gingerly, and you’re surprised by how gentle he’s being.

He hikes your legs up, one knee held over each of his arms. You lie there, half-conscious as the water rains down on you.

He slides his cock through your folds a few times before impaling you, stretching you on his thick length. He grunts softly in your ear, muttering softly in Russian as he fucks you. His thrusts aren't rough and hard, they’re long and precise, each one making your cunt instinctively clench on him.

You keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, but he keeps fucking you until he cums, spilling inside of you with a low groan. He stays sheathed inside of you, palms splayed on the tile by your hips, and you close your eyes tightly as another dizzy spell hits you.

He sighs and you know that Bucky is back. He pulls out of you and carefully lowers you to the ground before picking you up again and taking you out of the shower. He sits you on the counter once more, turns the shower off, then dries your body with a fluffy grey towel.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You don’t reply. You don’t think you could speak if you wanted to. Your head won’t stop spinning.

He picks you up and brings you into his room again, laying you down on the bed and tucking you in. “I’m gonna go get you a garbage can, in case you need to go again,” he whispers, smoothing your hair around your face.

Your eyes are already closed and he sighs, hating the fact that he caused this. What’s worse, is that the soldier took over while he was trying to make it up to you. He took advantage of your vulnerable state.

He sets a new cup of water on the nightstand and a garbage can on the floor, hoping that you get better soon.

~*~

You do.

It’s nearly two weeks of consuming next to no food or water and throwing up multiple times a day, but you eventually start recovering, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

You’re sitting in his bed, sipping on some tea, when he comes into the room.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hand resting on your knee through the blanket. You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough.” You shrug again.

“I can tell.” He’s confused and you sigh, “I can tell when it’s not you. When it’s... him.” He raises his eyebrows and you look down, chewing your bottom lip for a moment before you muster up enough courage to speak.

“When... when you touch me... it’s softer. You might say mean things, but your hands don’t squeeze too hard. And when it’s him touching me... he holds me really really tight.” He raises his eyebrows, having had no idea that that was a thing.

“So I know when it’s you and when it’s him. And I know that you haven’t touched me since...” you trail off and he nods, scratching the nape of his neck. “It wasn’t all me,” he whispers again, trying to explain himself. “It was me at first, but then... it’s like he was controlling me.” You nod, not looking up.

“I don’t remember all of it, but I know your voice sounded different. Angrier.” He cups your cheek gently, cursing himself when you flinch away.

“Since then I haven’t been nearly as bad,” he whispers. “I can tell. The soldier... when he comes now he’s more gentle. He’s not nearly as rough as before.” He nods, happy that this is at least working.

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes, exhausted beyond belief.

“It’s gonna take some time for you to heal up fully, but you’re making great progress. In a few days, you’ll be eating solid’s again. And then you’ll be up and walking around again.” You nod, eager to be healthy again.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back down, licking his lips.

“When I picked you... I didn't think they’d really go through with it. I thought it would’ve been another plan that never got to see the light of day. But then you were here and... I... I was in shock. You’re even more beautiful in person. And you’re so strong and resilient.” You look up, eyes finding his pretty pink lips.

“I know I haven’t been good to you, but can I please kiss you?” You nod meekly, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

It’s everything a kiss with him should be, and so much more. His hands rest on your neck, thumbs gently rubbing the corner of your jaw, right below your ears.

You pull away after a moment more and rest your forehead against his, a small smile gracing your lips.

“This is how things should be,” he whispers, stroking your hair gently. You nod, hands coming up to hold onto his wrists.

“Yeah.” The word is whispered so softly from your lips, that if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips then pulls away. “You should rest,” he whispers, leaning back to look at you. You hesitantly meet his eyes, and when you don’t see the darkness and anger that was there before, you nod.

“Yeah, okay.” You lay down and relax, smiling to yourself as he gently traces over your cheek, his fingers soft and feather-light, a drastic change from his touches three weeks ago.

~*~

It’s a week later when you can walk again, a week after that when he feels comfortable enough to leave you alone, with access to very few things.

He’s on the jet home, mind on you as the rest of the team celebrates a mission gone well.

“You were great out there, James,” Natasha says with a smile, patting his shoulder. He grins at her, cheeks turning pink.

“I see your new remedy is working?” Steve asks, grinning from ear to ear. Bucky scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Nat looks between the two super-soldiers, brows furrowed.

“What kind of remedy is that?” Bucky shakes his head at the redhead. “Just something Fury recommended. Didn’t think I could do it but here we are.” She nods, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I’m glad it’s working. It’s good to see you back to normal. I missed the normal you.” He nods, sighing softly as his mind goes to you. “Yeah, I’ve missed it too.” She rests her hand on his shoulder then sighs, letting it slide off and rest in front of her.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” He furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s tonight?”

“Stark’s throwing a little celebration. It’s just gonna be us there. But he wants to celebrate such a clean streak of missions.” He mulls it over, then eventually decides that you’ll be fine if he stays out for another night. You’ve proven that you’re not going to harm yourself anymore, and you seem like you’re starting to genuinely enjoy the arrangement.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you came,” She says, being vulnerable for a moment with him. He raises his eyebrows then nods, knowing not to take her vulnerability lightly. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The night consists of soft music, card games, and drinks, all courtesy of one Tony Stark. Bucky spends a fair portion of the night beside Natasha, the two of them laughing and talking together for hours as they each have drink after drink.  

Eventually, when things start winding down and Bucky’s walking her to her room, he brings up a painful topic.

“That night… when I tried to… you know... “ She looks up at him, smiling gently as he tries to express his feelings. “I’m sorry. It… it wasn’t me. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I mean it. But I’m starting to control the monster more.” She cups his cheeks, leans up on her toes, and presses a kiss to his lips.

“I know you’d never willingly hurt me. And I don’t blame you for what the soldier does. I know that the two of you aren’t the same person.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her deeper, tongue brushing against her plump pink lips. She pulls him backwards until they’re in her room, and closes the door, panting against his mouth as his hands wander over her form.

Her curves are inviting, and he can’t help but grab her ass. She moans into his mouth and the two of them tumble to the bed, Bucky ready to apologize physically for all the things the soldier did, the things that he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her.

[yamithediaperdork]

My little brothers revenge part 3

The next 2 weeks flew by after that, with the only strange thing being that Justin started to have A LOT of close call's with getting to the backroom on time and was leaving a ton of skid marks in his pants, and that Justin had also apparently seen the error in his ways and had asked to try and host a D&D session for Alex and his friends to make up for everything he'd done.

Naturally of course Alex wasn't sure about whether or not to trust Justin, but then the bully had gone out of his way to get permission from their parents for Alex to have all of his friends over while they were gone for the session to happen.

"I just think with how rough he's had it lately, he could use a treat, and it'll be a good bonding experience for us since he's kinda too small to play football with me and the guys." Justin had said, acting sheepish.

After that Alex had dialed back the amount of ex-lax he'd been sneaking into Justin's drink's since he felt just awful about trying to make Justin a diaper boy when he was being so nice.

Of course Ben warned him it could just be a trap and to keep up the treatment (and had asked for pictures of Alex next time he had a uh-oh accident as payment for his words of wisdom) But Alex choice to believe in Justin, a choice he would come to regret.

With their parents gone Saturday morning, most of the day was spent with Alex helping Justin go over the rules for the campaign in the morning, and then hanging out and playing with his friends in the afternoon while Justin went out to hang with Grizz and Rayne.

"Man, hard to believe that Justin is being such a cool guy." Lyle said and winced as they were walking back from the park, having played a game of touch football with some younger kids (and having gotten their butts kicked, which only confirmed Alex's belief he was NOT meant to play the damn game)

"areeee you sure he's on the up and up on this?" Kyle asked, rubbing at his arm where a 5 year old had punched him.

"What? Guys come on, it's the four of US vs. him if he tries anything. we can take him!" Alex said full of misplaced pride and swagger even as he had a slight limp.

"..you realize a group of five year olds just whooped us right?" Max asked, Pausing to spit out more dirt from when he'd been driven into the ground.

"Yeah but there was a equal number of them to us and they were all sneaky like ninjas." Alex said, waving a hand. "Sides, worse case go for the nuts. it's like the weak spot on the death star."

"You've been going to your mom's self defense class again haven't you?" Max asked and chuckled.

"...Maybe." Alex huffed.

"heh, just don't" Lyle started.

"Scream out 'he's got my purse!' this time." Kyle finished and the rest of the losers club laughed while Alex blushed and fumed.

"Guys it was ONE time, let it goooo!"

While the losers club was out and playing their little games, Justin and the boys were getting everything ready for the pampering.

as it turned out the old crib wasn't going to be big enough for even just one of the boys, while the old playpen might of fit two at most though it would be cramped.

Thankfully two solutions provided themselves in this, their darkest hour in the form of finding a old car seat of Justin's that looked big enough to MAYBE hold Alex, and a old high chair that would hold Max for sure.

"So..how are we going to hide ALL of this upstairs? I know Alex and his friends are dorks, but their not stupid." Grizz asked.

"Oh, what if we went and put like sheets over them, and tell them their ghosts!" Rayne suggested eagerly.

"...Rayne buddy why don't you go have a juice box." Justin said, patting the hulking boys back.

"Kay!"

as the muscle bound boy headed up to the fridge for some apple juice, Grizz and Justin exchanged looks.

"Man, he's our friend and everything, but Jesus.. does he eat paint chips or something?" Grizz asked.

"Go ahead and ask him, I'll go and get the bucket to mop you up after he creams you." Justin chuckled. "Ok ok..back to the problem at hand..We could Make get the high chair in the broom closet, and the playpen all folded up in the linen closet. Car seat, I dunno.."

"Yeahhh whole lotta time to waste between getting them pampered and getting them in they're seats." Grizz agreed then added with a blush.. "and I didn't go though all the humiliation of buying 4 packs of those discount diapers just for them to go to waste."

By now Rayne was coming back down the steps with his juice box and smiled and waved a hand.

"heh, Yes Rayne?" Justin asked, waiting for the stupid idea to come out.

"What if like, you have the playpen and stuff all set up down here but hidden behind some stuff and we just send up the gaming area down here. you can claim you wanna set a atmosphere for the game, capture the feeling of going though a dungeon." Rayne said and smiled big time.

"...H-U-H..Man Rayne, you need to drink apple juice more often!" Justin chuckled. "Good idea!"

"nah, then i get the poops." Rayne said but grinned big time.

"..Noted?" Grizz said/asked with a sweat drop.

It was after supper, and with bellies full of Pizza and root beet, the boys made they're way down the dusty (though not as dusty as before) basement, the twins semi hugging each other as the basement's lights only worked in two of the four areas, casting long scary shadows.

Max was mostly ok, though he could of sworn he'd seen something move out of the corner of his eye.

"Uh..Alex,Justin, you guys sure you don't have rats?" he asked, a twinge of worry in his voice.

"Oh yeah, we get checked regularly, Dad's TERRIFIED of them, it's why we can't go to Disney world." Alex said, laughing though he was getting a little bit creeped out being in the basement after dark.

still he wanted to try and support Justin who clearly was making a effort. plenty of large blankets had been rolled out onto the stone floor and a coffee table was set up in the middle, not on the blankets but they were bunched around it.

there were books and note pads and pencils and dice, all the great makings for a table top game and Alex turned to smile at his friends as they took in the site.

coming around the table and looking at the set up, the boys all whistled and Alex smirked at his friends under the pale light of the basement.

"See? I told you guys we could trust Justin!" he beamed.

"heh, Oh?" Justin asked.

"Yeah, the guys were kinda worried you were gonna pull something." Alex said, rubbing the back of his head. "Buttt I knew you were trying ..to.." Alex trailed off as he saw the look on his brothers face.

"Yeahhh about that, maybe listen to your friends next time." Justin advised.

"Whatever! It's four on one Justin, we CAN and WILL kick your butt!" Alex said, balling up his fists and looking over his shoulder to his friends.

The twins and Max nodded back and got ready to fight but Justin didn't look too concerned.

"oh no, Four little dorks who already got their butts kicked by five year olds and they're threatening me. what ever will I do. Oh woe is me." Justin said, putting the back of his hand to his forehead in a dramatic fashion then grinning and snapping his fingers. "Oh wait, I know..Grizz, Rayne, wanna help me get our soon to be slaves dressed and ready for they're new life's of cooking, cleaning and doing homework for us?" Justin said.

two shadows moved out from behind a pile of boxes and indeed there was Justin's buddy's.

"Oh, by the way, feel free to fight back, but anyone who does gets a spanking. if your GOOD little boys, we'll get you dressed with minimal fussing." Justin added.

Alex of course chose to fight, as did Max since he had to have his buddies back.

the two of them lunged at Justin going for a combo knee and groin attack but Justin caught Alex in the air and just hoisted him over his shoulder with Alex's head and arms over his back and yanked down Alex's pants with his free hand and started to slap the boys butt, getting howls of pain from him.

Max meanwhile had gotten his ankle grabbed by Rayne as he went to leap and was tugged back and put under Rayne's beefy arm and much like Alex, pants were yanked down and his butt was slapped, Max howling away as Rayne giggled and gave Justin a silly grin.

"it's like I'm playing the bongo's!" he giggled childishly.

Lyle and Kyle meanwhile had taken inventory of how sore they already were, how big and strong Justin and his friends were and had just stayed put, holding each other hands while Grizz looked down at them and smirked.

"heh, so your gonna be good boys?" Grizz asked.

Both twins nodded then jumped at the sounds coming from their friends.

"H-hey! stop that! They'll-" Lyle started, looking at Alex and Max who's buns where getting red even with their undies protecting them.

"-Be good boys like us! Come on, Please stop?" Kyle finished, wincing and fighting the urge to bury his face in his brothers shoulder.

"Hmm I dunno.. Alex, are you gonna be a good boy or make your widdle friends into liars?" Justin asked, pausing for a second.

Alex of course had been beating on Justin's back, for all the good it had done him and was now stood in front of Justin, tears running down his face and pants around his ankles.

Likewise, Max was set on his feet, though the tears weren't as free flowing and he gave a glare at the Twin's who suddenly found something VERY interesting to look at at the floor so they could avoid eye contract.

"Hey now, none of that Maxie, those two might of just gotten you out of the 5 minutes spanking we had planned." Justin said.

"F-Five Minutes?" Alex whimpered, and put a hand to his sore butt. it already hurt so much from just 30 seconds!!

"well give or take a bout 30 seconds." Justin said and smirked.

a hissing sound was heard and it didn't take a genius to figure out what it was, as Alex started to sob heavily as a puddle started to form under him where his accidents wasn't being soaked up by his pants.

"well, I'm gonna count that as a third vow to be a good boy..what do you say Max, wanna make it four for four?" Justin asked.

"Rot in hell! I'll never give in!" Max vowed.

Never as it turned out lasted all of anther 40 seconds then Max had a accident too. Following a quick clean up that would keep the boys from making puddles all the way up the stairs, Justin had Alex and Max take a quick bath together to both boys embarrassment, with Justin supervising to 'keep them out of trouble' while the Twin's mopped up the piddle accidents and got the wet clothes in the wash under the watchful eyes of Rayne and Grizz.

since the cat was out of the bag so to speak Rayne and Grizz had the twins help them bring the supplies for tonight's fun up into the living room, the urine smell in the basement being a big deciding factor.

The twins had a very good idea what was gonna happen as they carried the packs of diapers upstairs for the bullies, as well as a bag of dirty socks.

Well ok, the twins knew what the diapers and baby furniture was for, but the socks stumped them.

"Um..Mister Rayne?" Lyle asked, and held the bag up with one hand, the other being used to hold his nose.

"Hmm? me? Oh I'm just Rayne kiddo. what's up." Rayne said, confused at first but then smiling.

"I think I get most of what your planning, but why the stinky socks?" Lyle asked, looking over as Kyle was being a super good helper and getting the playpen set up, even though the look on his face made it clear he didn't wanna be helping at all.

"Oh the socks are for..are for.." And Rayne trailed off, and rubbed the back of his head, then turned to Grizz. "Hey Grizz, what are the socks for again?"

"We're gonna get the babies who aren't doing homework to wear them on both hands, one hand for the ones who are, and use about 3 socks per hand and tape for make shift baby mitts." Grizz called over.

"Ohhh yeahh..So that." Rayne said and smiled brightly.

"B-But why stinky socks? I don't wanna get athletes foot on my hands!" Lyle whined and whimpered.

"Oh! this part I do 'member! it's cuz you won't be tempted to try and tug'em off with your teeth after those socks have been on me and Justin's and Grizz's feet!" Rayne said, ever so proud of himself that he'd recalled that much.

"I..but..Ewwwww!" Lyle whined and started to cry.

"oh hey hey, look, it's just kinda fair if you think about it!" Rayne said, pulling the smaller boy into a hug.

"H-How so?" Lyle sniffled.

"well we're gonna hafa smell you guys when your blort your diapers. So see? it all works out!"

Somehow not only was this NOT a comfort for the twins, but started Kyle bawling too.

With Alex and Max washed nice and clean, they huffed and pouted as they were marched down stairs in just they're towels and were greeted to the site of of Lyle and Kyle (Aka mentally labeled the traitors in both boys minds) sitting side by side in Alex's old playpen wearing nothing but three pairs of dirty white socks on each hand that were taped up at the wrist with green masking tape and at least 4 pairs of white and pink diapers around their hips.

Finishing the look off as a bib around each twins hip, Lyle had Big bird on his while his brother was rocking cookie monster.

"Heh, nice touch with the bibs!" Justin commented. "I was gonna let them keep their shirts on."

"Well you know, I found a box of them in the basement and thought, why not?" Grizz said.

The twins had tear stains on their cheeks and Justin raised a eyebrow at that.

"Did they have to get spanked too?" He asked.

"Oh nah, just had a little sob feast. kinda shocked it didn't happen sooner. they ARE babies after all." Rayne giggled.

"So what do you have picked out for our two little naughty boys to wear?" Justin asked, chuckling and yanking the towels off of the younger boys who yelped and covered themselves despite the fact that A) they had both already seen everything B) so had Justin and C) they we gonna have to move their hands once they were diapered.

"Well I was thinking something retro, and classy at the same time." Grizz said, taking on a snobbish voice and making the other bullies smirk. "Something that screams 'I'm a big dumb baby slave, but at least I can do homework.' You know, a look for the ages."

"I see I see. Looks like you two little brainiac's get to do our homework while we supervise the good boys. And Don't even THINK of fucking it up. We'll be taking all SORTS of pictures of you dweebs in all your big baby glory and won't be shy about sharing it with your classmates." Justin chuckled and then pointed over to the changing mat's on the floor.

"J-Justin come on, do we HAVE to wear diapers?" Alex tried one last time.

"Alex I'm shocked, don't tell me you WANNA run around in the buff all night!" Justin said.

somehow the boy's blush got worse and along with Max he scrambled over to the changing mat's without further argument.

thickly diapered and one hand in the make shift baby mitts (Left hand for Alex and right hand for Max) and sporting Elmo themed for Max and Oscar the grouch for Alex, the last two of the loser's club was living up to it's name.

Max had been put in a old wooden high chair which even as small and shrimpy as he was was still a tight fit and had the bullies English and Social studies homework out in front of him.

Alex meanwhile had oddly easier been strapped into a old car seat and pulled up to the coffee table and handed the Math and science homework.

"Since when do you even get this much homework over one weekend?" Alex had asked, eyes going wide.

"Oh yeah, we asked for extra homework to make up for our falling grades. our teachers loved we were trying. So again. Don't make us look bad." Justin said and ruffled Alex's hair, making the huffy diapered shrimp squirm and try and get away.

"I can't believe I actually thought you were turning over a new leaf." Alex huffed and sulked.

"Honestly, neither could I, but you just wanted it to be true sooo bad~ Though I'm not without a degree of mercy." Justin chuckled and at that moment Grizz came in and set a baby bottle full of milk on Max's tray, then on in reach of Max.

Meanwhile the twins were being handed one each by Rayne and just took them with some difficulties in both hands and started to drink, they they wrinkled they're noses.

"heh, I guess the socks kinda keep you from fully enjoying the moo juice. Ah well, not my problem. I expect that ba-ba drained in a hour little man, I don't need you getting all dehydrated with all the crying and pissing you've been doing." Justin snickered and after handing Alex his ba-ba, walked away.

For a tiny split second Alex was tempted to grab the bottle and toss it at Justin, but then his common sense kicked in stead and he went to work, pausing every so often to drink the oddly sweet milk.

The twins tummies were starting to hurt as they chugged down they're milk but with the lack of room in the playpen and their stinky sock mitten's they weren't sure if they were gonna be able to pick the bottle back up if they put them down.

Since they had maybe already lost they're friends after betraying them before, they had silently agreed to just try and be the best big babies they could tonight since there was no point in getting a spanking now anyways.

"Sheesh, I guess that sob feast they had really dried them up. Careful little guys you're gonna give yourselves gas bubbles!" Rayne said, looking almost legitimately concerned.

"heh, don't tell me you're going soft on us man." Grizz teased, lightly elbowing Rayne side.

"Huh? no, I just don't wanna have to burp them and risk getting spit up on me."

"..You uh, Know their not REALLY babies right?" Justin asked after a second. "So I don't think that's gonna be a worry."

the mental image of being held in the bullies arms and being burped like a oversized baby wasn't exactly appealing to Kyle who slowed his chugging down but Lyle seemed to speed his up.

"..heh, I think one of them WANTS to be burped!" Grizz said.

Tugging his ba-ba out quick Lyle went to defend himself but in stead let out a massive belch that did kinda make his tummy feel better.

Kyle on the other hand took the other option when it came to gas relief as before anyone could say anything about the burp, a muffled long fart came out of Kyle's behind and the boys eyes went wide as saucers making it clear who had cut the cheese.

"Sheesh, couple of Gas holes over here." Justin laughed then wrinkled his nose, taking a step back. "Ugh, If his FARTS smell this bad.."

"yeahhh Maybe we shouldn't of put all that laxative powder in there." Rayne said, rubbing the back of his head.

With THAT announcement all four boys who had been taking a drink, Lyle having just put his bottle back up to his mouth dropped them and looked at the bullies.

"Rayne, they weren't suppose to know about that." Scolded Justin, then he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"oh..uh sorry. How can I make it up to you?" Rayne said, while all four of the diapered losers club squirmed and whined in their baby prison's.

"Guess who gets to change all four stinkers himself?" Justin asked.

"Grizz? that's not fair he did- ...OH!...oh." Rayne started to argue, but then his face lit up as he got it, then fell as he got it.

Hearing about how the milk had been tainted, Alex grabbed his and was trying to pry the lid off to dump it out when Justin came over and shook his head.

"Ah ah ah, Bad baby brother! I guess you're gonna have to take a homework break so big brother can bottle feed you." Justin scolded, getting Alex out of the car seat and into his lap while Justin sat on the floor, pressing and rubbing the nipple on Alex's closed mouth.

"Open up little man, it's either you drink your special ba-ba and make 'present's for big brother or I get out the enema kit mom got for dad." Justin said.

Alex's eyes widen and he stared at his brothers face, wondering if Justin would really actually use that horrible looking thing on him..then recalling he was currently dressed like a big baby and opened his mouth.

"Good boy! Guess i could of just made you drink it on your own with that threat..eh, Your kinda cute like this. In a total loser big baby sorta way." Justin snickered.

Alex suckled down fast and hard, just wanting to get it over with and glared at Justin, willing himself to be able to make his asshole of a big brother end up crapping HIMSELF before Alex fudged his huggies.

As the cramps started to build in his tummy, Alex didn't think that was going to happen.

Seeing Alex being bottle fed by his brother and Grizz coming over Max gulped and gave a sheepish smile.

"I..Don't suppose you could just take the nipple off so i can chug this and get it over with huh?" He tried.

"heh, I suppose so. at least then I don't have to worry about burping the nerdy baby." Grizz said and started to unscrew the top. "But just so you know, if you try and just dump it out, I'll be tanning your ass for 5 minutes strait, then just giving you a enema."

Whether it was the threat itself, or the fact Max had loaded up on fluids on the way home he'd never be sure, but the poor boy gasped and whimpered as a hissing was heard and he soaked his diaper.

"Heh, We got our first wet diaper! Man, you must have a hair trigger bladder huh?" Grizz asked, and offered the opened ba-ba to Max. "Bottoms up soggy pants."

Whining softly but knowing he was stuck (in more ways then one with his diaper bloating out in the high chair) Max gave a week smile and drank as fast as he could.

The twins meanwhile had been given new instructions by Rayne who had decided if he was gonna have four sets of poopie diapers to change, he might as well get a cute site first.

The nicest of the three bullies (if only due to his lower IQ) he'd understood when Lyle and Kyle hadn't been abler to get they're ba-ba's picked up between the cramped space and the baby mitt and had picked up their bottle's and handed them to the other.

"Um..Rayne? I-I had more of my ba-ba gone." Kyle said meekly. "This is Lyle's."

"I Know, I want you to bottle feed each other, it'll look so cute!" he said and then with a big of shuffling around got them facing each other. "Your twin brothers so you're both close..So go on, help you brother drink up!" He encouraged them both.

Knowing better then to argue, the Twins shifted around and worked out how to get their arms out of the way of the other then both were drinking up, eyes closed and noses wrinkled from the smell of the socks, and the mini poots that were escaping almost constantly now as they were almost finished their ba-ba's.

As such with they're eyes closed they didn't see that Rayne had grabbed Justin's camera phone (After losing three cells of his own, Rayne wasn't trusted with one anymore.) and snapped a few pictures of the cuteness in front of him, and when they finished he fished them both out of the playpen and had them each put a head over one of his shoulders, apparently having gotten over his stance on burping them.

As they felt the big strong pats on their back and looked at each other over the simple giants shoulder, both twins wet their diapers at the same time but just like how they normally talked, one would burp then the other then the first one, back and forth till Rayne was sure he'd gotten all the gas bubbles out.

The twin's weren't sure how they felt about this, since Clearly Rayne was strong enough to support BOTH of them with just one hand making them feel even smaller then before, though it DID feel good to get all that gas out even if they're tummies were still cramping big time now.

"Feel better little guys?" Rayne asked, smirking.

Lyle started to nod while Kyle went to say something, but that was when the ba-ba's special ingredient kicked in. Both twins stiffened and little gasps came out of their mouths but that was nothing compared to the torrent of muck that poured out of their backside as the pink and white diapers rapidly expanded and even with the slits cut in them it was clear they were rapidly approaching a overflow point.

"Sheesh, that didn't take long." Grizz said, holding his nose.

"Oh man, their fucking toxic!" Justin complained.

between the sick sounding wet farts you could HEARD the diapers crackling as they fought to keep up but it wouldn't be till the diapers were fully loaded that they Twins would snap out of their shocked silence.

Rayne went to say something to comfort them but it was like a shrill alarm going off as both twin once again started wailing and crying, and Rayne winced, his own nose wrinkling.

"Uhh.. Can I just go and hose them off in the back yard?" He semi shouted, trying to be heard over the twins.

"Are you kidding? they'd alert the whole block as to whats going on!" Justin said, gagging a little. "Oh Man..I did NOT think this though..."

"Well what did you expect a dirty diaper was gonna smell like?" Alex huffed, though he was making grossed out faces too, plus knew that was his future."Sun shrine and rainbows?!"

"Also it's WAY too cold out to clean them up outside anyways Rayne, you'll make them sick."Max pointed out

"You two, shut up and get back to work. and Rayne..I know we were gonna make them sit in it but for the sake of everyone noses, change them now....and uh, take them to the basement to do it." Justin huffed.

Rayne nodded and off he went with the little stinkers and Grizz turned to Justin.

"Ahhh.. maybe we'll just use the pictures of them, but let them take dumps in the potty..I mean.. " he was saying, moving to go and open some windows.

"Ngggh, you might be onto something there." Justin said, then noticed Max and Alex exchanging looks and smirking. "..what's with the looks?"

"It seems to me, like the balance of power has shifted." Max said with a evil grin.

"Unless you WANT us unleashing hell in our diapers over and over again, you're gonna knock all of this off now, and hand over the pictures." Alex said smugly.

"Are you REALLY trying to threaten us with stinky diapers?" Grizz asked, half amused half in disbelief.

"If you thought the twin's were stinky they don't hold a candle up to Max, and Justin you know how bad I can be when I'm NOT loaded with ex-lax."

"..Mistakes have been made." Justin groaned, face palming.

"Are you kidding me?! I went though all that embarrassment and blew all that money on diapers and we're gonna cave in now?" Grizz huffed, looking pissed.

Max left out a poot and that fresh tears to the bullies eyes.

"Consider that a preview of whats to come." Max said and gave a evil laugh. "and tick tock guys.. us 'babies' can only hold it for sooo long~"

"Look Grizz, I'm sorry but unless you wanna be the one helping Rayne change diapers." Justin started to say, cut off by Rayne's cry of horror from the basement. "Then the plan failed."

"This is fucking bullshit!" Grizz huffed and then stormed out of the living room, grabbing his jacket.

"Grizz come on! wait!"

"No way man, screw you! I'm going home!" Grizz growled back and took off, slamming the door.

"...Well I hope your happy now!" Justin huffed at the big babies.

"Oh, we will be.. but first.. socks off and let us out of our baby prisons." Alex said, then smirked. "and don't worry, I have a feeling the diapers WON'T be going to waste."

For the first time since this little war had started, Justin felt a pang of worry.

In the aftermath, only the twins ended up messing their diapers and once Rayne found out the plan had fallen though he sulked and huffed and stormed off home too to do the extra class work that no one else was gonna do for him now.

The Pictures were turned over as promised and Justin figured Alex just deleted them, never suspecting that they were kept for blackmail power of a sort later on, and while no one else had a smelly diaper that night, all four boys kept wearing one just in case.

The twins were forgiven by Max and Alex after a bit, mostly due to how traumatized they seemed from having made such big stinkies and having to get cleaned up and had sucked on their thumbs when they weren't playing video games with Max and Alex, though they had conked out hard shortly after.

Justin, as the last bully standing, got the 'honor' of taking the shovel and going out to the trail to 'bury the treasure' and was less then happy when he came back and got told to go to bed and rest up, he was going to need it.

[quillvine]

And I Will Care For You

Aaron Hotcher x Gender Neutral Reader

Request from @theichabbieclub: Can I request Hotch x Reader? Reader comes home exhausted, soaking wet to the bone and freezing. They end up falling asleep standing up. Once Hotch notices, he places his hand on the back, letting them lean on him. Then he kinda freaks out when he realizes they're wet and freezing. He changes the reader, warms them up and puts them to bed. Reader is so exhausted that they don't wake up at all until hours later in the middle of the night??? Fluffy pleaseee THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH 🥺🥺

A/N: Oh god babes I’m so sorry this took so long. It was such a delight to write though, I had a lot of fun with this one. I changed things a little and I hope you don’t mind!

You run through the parking lot, your doctor's coat over your head in the hopes to block out the rain. Why did you decide not to bring your compact umbrella? It was right there on the entryway table and you thought about taking it with you but you didn’t. Now you’re making your way through the torrential rain in search of your car. 

You groan in frustration, damn your bad your bad luck, damn your faulty memory, damn the hospital parking lot. Just because you understand why staff parking is on the top floor of the garage doesn’t mean you have to like it on nights like this.

It’s on nights like these that you hate working the late shift at the hospital. You’re already away from your husband and kid and the freezing air and heavy rain just makes it even worse. You just wish you were lying in bed, curled into Aaron’s side while he reads his book, Jack sleeping peacefully down the hall.

By the time you’ve made it to your car, you’re shivering from the cold rain. With frozen fingers, you unlock the car before hurriedly climbing inside and shutting the door.

Squirming in the driver's seat you try to get comfortable in your wet clothes. You shed your doctor's coat in hopes of drying off some more. It doesn’t work, your clothes underneath are just as sopping wet.

Pulling out of the garage you fiddle with the radio, settling in for the tedious drive home.

&

You grumble as you unlock the door, dumping your wet coat on the ground and dropping your keys in the dish by the door.

The noise startles Aaron, who’s lying down on the couch. He sits up, his head popping up from behind the backrest. The elated look on his face tells you that he’s happy you’re home. 

You’re happy you’re home too. The sight of him in sweatpants and a ratty FBI t-shirt makes your heart melt. All you want to do is fall asleep in his arms.

“Hi baby,” he says reaching his arms out to you, “how was your day? The rain is really coming down har- oh!”

Aaron rushes to his feet as soon as he sees your sopping wet clothes. He gathers you in his arms rubbing your shoulders to generate some heat. You sag against Aaron’s hold, too exhausted to even stand up properly. His fingers worm their way to the zipper of your jacket. He unzips it, pushing it to the ground.

“You're freezing,” he says when his fingers touch your cold skin, “I’m sorry you got caught in the rain.”

He pulls you closer to him in an attempt to warm you up, his strong arms rubbing up and down your waist. The motion makes you feel even sleepier and you bury your head into his shoulder, your eyes starting to droop.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now baby,” he tells you, pulling you away from his body so you can look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you go take a shower?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement, too tired to formulate words, choosing instead to bury your face back into the crook of his neck. Aaron squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. He turns you away from his body, gently leads you towards the master bathroom. 

“Come on, let's get you nice and warmed up.”

&

The warm water of the shower runs down your back and relaxes your muscles and the steam chases lingering cold from your fingers and toes out of the rest of your body. Your knees nearly buckle under the near euphoric feeling of the hot shower. 

Your tiredness is almost too much for your body to bear, it feels like your knees are going to give out. Weariness makes your arms heavy as you reach up to wash your hair.

Your mind is so foggy with exhaustion that you barely register the sound of the shower door opening and Aaron sliding in behind you. It isn’t until you feel his hands find their place on your waist that you even realize that he’s even there.

“You want me to wash your hair for you?” He asks.

“No, it’s okay, just hold me. I feel like I’m going to collapse.” You tell him.

He complies and keeps his hands on your waist. His firm grip keeps you anchored as you work through your sleepy haze.

Slowly, you start to wash the day away, rising off all the dirt and grime off your body, Aaron by your side the whole time. He hums soft tunes, his hands steady on your waist. They ground you to the land of the waking, their constant presence keeping you steady on your feet.

When you finally step out of the shower and onto the bath mat, the steam from the hot water clings to your body keeping you warm. Aaron already has a towel in his hand and is wrapping you in the fluffy fabric before you can even reach for a towel to dry your hair with.

The tile floor of the bathroom almost brings the cold back to your body, but you quickly stuff your feet into your pair of slippers before shuffling into the bedroom and lying down on the bed. 

Aaron follows you into the bedroom, but he doesn't get into bed with you as you had hoped. Instead, he moves towards your shared dresser rummaging around for who knows what.

You take a moment to admire his form. He has his towel slung low across his hips giving you a nice view of his back muscles as they flex with his every move. Yum. He really does look good. If you weren’t so tired you probably would have started something. 

But, you have another shift tomorrow, and oh boy do you need the sleep more than you need Aaron right now. The thought of returning to the hospital in less than 24 hours is exhausting but damn if you didn’t love the job.

Feeling your stare Aaron turns around with a small smile on his face. It grows when he sees you still wrapped in your towel. He gives you a fond look that makes you want to melt in a puddle of goo.

“Why aren’t you changed?” He asks,

“Tired,” you tell him lazily, “just wanna go to bed.”

“I know sweetheart, I know,” Aaron says, “Pajamas and then bed okay?”

You hum in agreement, but just flop down onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Aaron’s face comes into view above you and you give him a lazy smile. He leans down to give you a quick peck. You pout, wanting more than just a quick kiss but, he just gives you another fond smile before disappearing from your view.

Suddenly, your pajamas are thrown on top of you and you feel Aaron climb on top of you. You groan and try to swat him out of the way.

“Get off of me, ‘m tryna sleep.”

He obliges and rolls off of you. “Come on, get up,” he says as he pulls you off the bed.

With heavy arms you change into your pajamas, tossing your towel aside. It’s Aaron’s turn to ogle and he does so unabashedly. Slowly you get dressed, pulling on your top and bottoms, before flopping back into bed.

You pull the covers over your body cocooning yourself in them. Aaron leans down to hug your blanket burrito, pulling down the top so he can see your face.

“You gonna make room for me?” He asks, amused.

You grunt and unroll the blanket from around your body. Gazing at Aaron with weary eyes you make grabby hands at him, trying to pull him closer to you.

“You know, it’s more comfortable to sleep under the covers,” he tells you.

He tugs the covers out from under you, tucking the both of you into bed. Your rollover to your side of the bed, burrowing into the sheets. He hauls you across the bed, into his arms, holding you tight.

His embrace is safe and warm, a comforting reminder that he’s by your side. You could fall asleep right then and there with the lights on, but you have one more thing you need to do.

“Jack, I need to see Jack,” you mumble, pushing Aaron’s arm away and sitting up.

You make your way to Jack’s room, stopping at his open door. His blue star night light, courtesy of one Spencer Reid, casts a soft glow throughout his room.

He’s sleeping soundly as you carefully creep to his bedside. Kneeling, you smooth the blanket over his body, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. You tuck the stuffed bear that’s fallen to the ground back into his arms.

“Sleep tight bug,” you whisper, brushing his hair back.

Aaron is watching you from the doorway with a soft smile on his face. As you guys head back to your room, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he says gently.

“I love you too,” you say, giving him another soft kiss.

Make your way back to the bedroom, you crawl back into bed pulling Aaron down with you. You wrap your body around his, snuggling under into his side and pulling the covers tighter around you. 

“Baby, I have to turn off the lights first,” he says with a chuckle..

Aaron leaves the bed to turn off the light and you whine at the loss of his body heat. He comes right back though, pulling you back into his arms, curling a protective arm around your waist before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” he tells you.

“Night babe,” you reply.

Sleep comes easily. It always does with Aaron by your side.

&

In the morning, it’s not the alarm that wakes you up but the gentle strokes of Aaron’s fingertips. The rough pads of his fingers brush against your lower abdomen, bringing heat to your lower belly.

You shift, moving your body so you’re facing him and you’re greeted with a very relaxed Aaron. He gives you a cute smile which is only made more adorable by his bedhead. In return, you give him a soft sleepy smile that makes him coo and wraps you tighter in his arms.

He tilts your head up, giving you a gentle kiss. It’s warm and sweet, like the golden sunlight that falls into the room. Humming in delight you push your body closer to his, searching for more of that warmth.

You find it when Aaron pulls away, leaning down to bump his nose against yours in a nose kiss. You let out a breathy giggle, bringing one hand to the nape of his neck, curling your fingers into the hair there.

“Hi,” he says, his morning voice is so delightfully rough and growly.

You give him another smile, bright and bubbly, “good morning.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck pressing kisses up and down your smooth skin. Rolling on top of you he peppers kisses along your jaw, moving up to your cheeks and then finally your lips. You smile into the kiss. The warmth finds its way back to your chest, filling you with affection.

“Morning baby,” he says.

You bury your face into his chest, “what time is it?” you groan, raising your head to look at the clock.

Aaron gently guides your head back to his chest, “don’t even worry about it,” he tells you. “You have an afternoon shift, remember?”

A quiet sigh escapes your throat as you snuggle back into the covers. You place your head back on Aaron’s chest, giving his collarbone a gentle kiss, resting your nose there you breathe in his comforting scent.

The fingers stroking your stomach have made their way to your ribcage, his fingers ticking the skin there. You squirm in his grasp which only makes Aaron tickle you even harder.

You can’t help the giggles bubble out from your throat and it seems that Aaron can’t either.

“Shh, shh, you’re going to wake Jack up,” he says between chuckles.

Your laughs don’t stop though, they bounce around the room, light and airy.

In that moment you’re transported elsewhere, to a dreamlike world where sunlight filters through the window and a soft breeze makes the curtain flutter in the wind. A world where you have no obligations and so much time to love.

Except, you’re not transported anywhere, because you’re already there. You have a free morning to spend with the man you love, a man who adores you as much as you adore him. A man who supports you at your lows and brings you to your highs. A man who cares for you without a second thought. What could be better than that?

“Aaron?” You say tenderly, gently tugging at his fingers, which are still resting underneath your shirt.

“Yes, darling?” He asks in a voice that’s just as soft and loving.

It makes your heart melt and for a moment you forget what you were going to say.

You let out another breathy laugh, a smile wide on your face, “thank you.”

“For what?” His fingers move to tangle with yours, thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“For everything,” you turn your head to meet his eyes, “thank you for taking care of me, thank you for holding me at night, my life is better with you in it.” 

“Well then, I think I should thank you too,” he says, “You make me a better man, you remind me it’s okay to be gentle with myself. I love you.”

“I love you more,” you tell him softly.

He moves to kiss you, slow and sweet. It leaves you breathless and stokes a fire in your belly. Your skin feels flushed, the places where Aaron’s contact hand comes in contact with your bare skin in your skin.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your pulse point.

The fingers dancing along your ribcage have made their way to your nipple, his thumb brushes against it. A gasp escapes from your throat.

“Well then, why don’t you show me just how much you love me?”

Tags (lmk if you would like to be added or removed): @winterscaptain @yes-sir-hotchner @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river @genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis @agenthotchner @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @toasteddragoness @misskirkstark @rousethemouse @good-heavens-chris-evans @arganfics @lcvischmitt

@hurricanejjareau, @marvels-agents100 and @garcia-reid-lovechild​ I’ve added you guys to my tag list hope you don’t mind!

[lgbtqlegends]

okay so i wrote two (2) little angst headcanon things yesterday- here's the first one! // tw for s*lf-h*rm and panic attack

the first time sara relapses after finally getting clean, she doesn't hate herself. she doesn't feel anything. she's too goddamn numb, and she thinks maybe that's worse, because she knows herself and she knows that she Should hate herself rn, especially after working so goddamn hard to get clean. but she doesn't, and she's too numb to care about the new scars on her wrist or the fact that she's still making new ones. it's after a really tough mission, after they all came back to the waverider, in various states of dirty, exhausted and sore, after she made the rounds to check up on every single one of her teammates, after they've all gone to bed but she's still awake because she can't shut her mind off. it's after that, in the deafening quiet of her room, pitch black of the night. she thinks maybe she should talk to gideon to keep her mind off of the hands that were itching to grab a blade, or ask for some kind of sedative, but sara is nothing if not stubborn, so she keeps her mouth shut and tries to fight off the images by herself, even if she knows on a night like this, it's a losing battle.

she's still exhausted the next day, having maybe gotten 2 hours of sleep- definitely not enough to keep her going after the mission the previous day. she can feel a migraine coming on too, so she gives the legends another day for some R&R as long as they stay on the ship and stay out of her way, and then she sits herself down in her favorite chair in the captain's office and pours a glass of whiskey or scotch or smth strong,, she doesn't drink enough to get black out drunk, just enough to get buzzed, to feel the burn in her throat

it's mick who finds her later that day (he didn't really find her- everyone knew she was in the captain's office but they all thought she seemed like she needed space, so no one dared disturb her.) at least,, until mick walked in with a bunch of beer and sat down in a chair opposite her. the look he gives her tells sara that somehow, he knows. they're not the feelings type of people, especially not with each other, they're more the silent drinking buddies when they need it, but they always seem to understand what the other one never says. when mick gets up to leave he pauses at the door, where sara's chair is located, gives her a look and then gives her a piece of genuine advice before nodding his head once and grunting as he departs

the second time she relapses, she Does hate herself. it's a really bad night. ava's busy working at the bureau, she told sara not to wait up so she didn't, but then she had a super bad nightmare (one that, even by her standards of the nightmares from her time right after the league, was really bad), and without ava there to help calm her down and bring her back, ended in a panic attack and her subsequent relapse. when ava portalled into her room in the early hours of the morning, sara was sitting in the corner of the room, on the floor, shaking and sobbing and clearly having a panic attack and then she sees the bloody knife discarded on the floor right next to her and the fresh cuts on her wrists, and her heart drops bc sara's told her more than a few times how important staying clean is to her and she knows that sara's gonna really hate herself later if she doesn't already. she briefly wonders whether the relapse was brought about by the panic attack or if the panic attack was brought about by the relapse, but a second later she decides it doesn't matter and the only thing that does is sara, because she can tell that her panic attack is starting to reach a level that it doesn't usually, where she's too far into her own head and all her trauma that she can't register anything actually going on around her,, she can barely breathe but the sobs are loud and the screams are deafening and she has to be calmed down and held extra tight because she gets so self-destructive without barely realizing it.

ava's in front of her in a split second, and she doesn't really know if touch will help or hurt, but she knows sara will let her know in some way if touch is bad, so she reaches a hand out and places it on sara's knee, and as soon as she does, bright blue, watery, barely-seeing eyes lock onto hers and then her arms are full of sara clinging to her desperately and she's pretty sure she's getting blood on her shirt but she really doesn't care because sara is Not OkayTM so the only thing that matters to her is calming her down and comforting her. she holds sara tight against her chest and rocks her back and forth. it takes a while but eventually sara's calm enough to register everything around her and she just kinda slumps entirely into ava because every ounce of energy she had is just,,, gone. tears are still rolling down her cheeks but they're slower now, not as rapid as before and now they're not coming as part of the panic attack, they're coming because she registers everything around her now- the scars and the blood and the knife- and the deep pit of self-loathing is settling deep in her stomach. she's too exhausted to voice anything so she just stays slumped against ava, putting her entire weight onto her, brow furrowed (her face is buried nose-deep into ava's shoulder and honestly she really only has the energy to furrow her brow, and even then just barely). ava still holds sara tightly, still rocks her back and forth ever so slightly. she kisses her head and offers soft, whispered reassurances and rubs her back and runs her fingers through her hair. sara's silent for a long time, just letting ava hold her because she truly just does not have the energy left to do anything else, and ava would've thought she'd managed to fall asleep if not for the small sniffles and whimpers she hears.

they sit there on the floor for a long time, and at some point gideon informs them that it's morning time and the legends are starting to emerge from their rooms, but still they sit there. at some point ava at least gets sara up off the floor and back onto the bed, kisses her forehead and then she goes and gets the first aid kit from their closet and silently cleans and dresses sara's cuts. she doesn't say anything, just silently focuses on the task. sara doesn't even flinch, just sits and stares, not really focused on what ava is doing. it almost feels like too much, because she's never once bothered to clean or dress her cuts before, and she never really let anyone else do it either, so it's,,, a lot,,, but it feels kinda good to know that ava cares enough

once ava's done she sets the first aid kit aside and then sits down on the bed, her back against the headboard, and then pulls sara into her arms, letting her curl up between her legs and rest her head on her chest. she pulls the blankets up around them and does all the little physical things that help sara relax, and then she tells her to sleep, because she knows sara is just,,, absolutely exhausted and drained

sara doesn't relapse again after that. ava helps her get clean again, and she tells sara she can always call her no matter what- doesn't matter the time or place or what she's doing- and she would be there. she has to talk sara down a few times. she knows sara appreciates it, if the way she always hugs her super tight afterwards is anything to go by. whenever it's a rough night and ava has to talk sara down from the urge to self-harm, ava always lets sara curl up real close into her side after, and she always talks to her about anything, everything and nothing all at once while she plays with her hair, until sara eventually drifts off to sleep

[tallycraven]

brainwashed!raelle pt.4

(pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

Consciousness finds her in a curious state. Scylla’s sure she’s not supposed to be… well, alive. But she’s vaguely aware of sensations that aren’t just nothingness. Stimuli like rough fabric against her forearms, stale air that smells like rubbing alcohol, and the quiet hum of a ceiling fan.

If she is dead (and therefore in hell), then she wonders if she’s done enough bad things in her life to actually have gained some sort of captaincy in the hierarchy of hell.

That thought leaves as quickly as it came.

Scylla keeps her eyes closed, but starts running diagnostics on her condition. Small wiggles of her toes, gentle clenching of her fingers. All the tiny movements correspond to the feeling of fabric moving against her, so she ticks paralysis off the list.

After deciding that, yes she’s alive and yes she’s somewhere tentatively safe, she discovers an uncomfortable dryness to her mouth and throat.

As well as an invasive distress over the thought of Raelle.

In the end, the latter thought is what gets Scylla to open her eyes.

Thankfully, she spots a glass of water on the bed stand as well as a sticky note with large, rounded handwriting that says, ‘YOU’RE SAFE, FOUGHT SPREE, WON, RAELLE’S OKAY, FOOD DOWNSTAIRS (probably), XO TALLY ☺︎’

Scylla finds herself staring at the page with squinted eyes and furrowed brows, frowning at it for only a second before the use of her face muscles send a dull throb of pain across her cheeks.

Why does Tally write like that?

A small examination of herself afterwards tells her that she’s been tended to by a decent fixer; the gash in her abdomen has been healed into an ugly scar, her lips have been mended, and the worst of most bruises have been lightened into a yellowing purple.

She’s most thankful that her eye’s not swollen anymore; bloodshot and bruised, yes, but she can see and that’s really all she could ask for.

xx

The house is decently large, she discovers, as she peaks out the window to see that they’re somewhere along the coast, on some sort of private property with trimmed hedges and a beautiful paved driveway leading down a private road.

She finds her way downstairs, taking small breaks to look out the windows at the clouded red-blue skies and steady waves washing onto the shore. It looks beautiful out.

Maybe she is dead and somehow scammed her way into heaven.

She kicks that back into the corner it came from as she descends the stairs (easier than she thought—good job, legs) and rounds the corner to find Tally Craven and Abigail Bellweather seated at a kitchen countertop, eating cereal.

Tally’s face blooms into a delighted smile, even Abigail gives her a small smile and nod of her head.

They explain what happened.

After Scylla went missing, Tally and Abigail went into high gear, tracing tracks that led out of the room that Scylla was stolen from back to a Spree hideout that then opened up an entire avenue of clues.

It took them a while to find the right thread, but when they did, they coordinated a small strike team with Anacostia’s approval and found Scylla and Raelle at a small house on the outskirts of Boston.

They successfully cleared the house and captured everyone inside, including one Willa Collar.

That was four days ago; now they’re staying low in one of the several Bellweather vacation homes, tucked safe for a little while until Petra and Anacostia can ensure no one else is after Raelle or Scylla.

Tally apologizes for taking so long.

Scylla shrugs and thanks her for even showing up at all.

The silence that stretches between the three of them awkwardly and Scylla opens her mouth to say, “So Raelle—“ at the same time Abigail says, “She’s not okay.”

Scylla can’t help but jump into full panic mode.

“Not okay? But the note said she was, have you found a fixer that can help? What’s wrong? Where is she?”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Slow down.”

Scylla’s not sure how Abigail expects her to slow down when she just told her that Raelle’s not okay.

“She’s fine physically,” Abigail clarifies, “but mentally—emotionally, she’s not doing the best.”

xx

Raelle spends every day spaced out, existing for brief moments with Abigail and Tally only when they force her to sit down for meals.

Otherwise, she’s either locked in her room at the house or sitting out on the private beach, barefoot in the sand and staring out at the Atlantic Ocean.

Sometimes nothing feels real; it takes her a second to remember which thread of memory actually happened.

Sometimes she sees Tally and Abigail alive and unexplainable relief and joy flood her body.

Sometimes a flash of light causes her to jump, the phantom memory of a mind-shattering windstrike crashing into her.

Other times, she remembers the feeling of her fist colliding with Scylla’s face. Her hands shake uncontrollably when her brain insists that yes, that’s this existence. That yes, that actually happened.

Time flows like tar and water all at once; everything blends and fractures. There have been moments where she thinks she’s finally lost the thread.

Raelle doesn’t know how to handle the oppressive guilt in her core. The way her stomach turns with disgust at herself.

So she spends her time away from her friends, away from mirrors, away from having to hear her own voice.

She digs her fingers into the sand and brings handfuls of it up at a time, feels the way each grain slips through her grasp— tries to imagine the sand like her thoughts, slipping and collapsing into piles of nothing.

It helps, sometimes.

At least the violent headaches have simmered down into insignificantly annoying ones that press against her temples whenever she overthinks the past.

She tries her hardest to remember the feeling of Tally’s arms wrapping around her, pulling her back from Scylla’s broken body and trapping her beneath her weight as she thrashed for freedom.

Pushes a cold hand to her forehead where Tally had pressed two thumbs and undone whatever had been done to her in one haphazard go.

Izadora had shown surprise that Raelle hadn’t been lobotomized.

Tally had looked appropriately horrified at that prospect.

Raelle kind of wishes she had been lobotomized.

Then she wouldn’t have panic attacks every time she tried to approach the door of the room that she knows Scylla is recovering in.

But every time she tries to open the door, the sight of a dead Scylla flashes before her. Bloodied, beaten, cold, dead Scylla lying in that cadaver locker.

The memory of driving a knife into Scylla, the way she’d screamed. The resulting sense of vengeance and satisfaction that had come from it.

So she can’t. She can’t open that door. She can’t bare to look at Scylla. Worries about when Scylla will wake up not only because she really wants Scylla to wake up and be okay but also because she has no idea how she’ll ever be able to be in the same room as Scylla ever again without feeling like the worst piece of shit on Earth.

Raelle presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, wishing that the pressure could push the images away from her despite them being burnt into her eyelids.

She collapses back into the sand and stares up at the darkening sky, dreading going back up to the house. Dreading having to look Tally and Abigail in the face because she still feels like she failed them somehow.

But the sun is setting and if she doesn’t go back, they’ll come looking for her. There’s nothing that would make her feel worse than them worrying any more than they already do, so she drags herself back up, prepares for Abigail’s concerned looks and Tally’s warm hugs.

xx

What she finds instead is Scylla, standing in the kitchen with Tally and Abigail.

Time freezes and Raelle forgets how to be.

She doesn’t know if she should turn around and walk back into the dark or fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness or just go upstairs to let herself lose it in the silence of her own room.

So she kinda just… stands there, in the archway leading to the kitchen, staring with her mouth slightly open.

Scylla’s painted in bruises, but she looks considerably better than when they first got here. There’s purple flowering across her left cheek, bruises dotting her arms, a red smudge in the corner of her eye where blood vessels had been broken.

It’s stupid that she wishes she was the one who helped heal Scylla.

Abigail and Tally share this look that Raelle only passingly notices before they start cleaning up.

She’s not sure how long she stands there for, but Abigail gives her a supportive smile and shoulder pat as she brushes past her to leave the room, quickly followed by Tally who gives Scylla a kind nod before hugging Raelle and leaving the room as well.

Abandoning Raelle to stand in silence with Scylla, who’s watching her quietly.

She hates that she can’t read what Scylla’s feeling.

It’s enough to make Raelle start to turn and leave the room, choosing flight over fight.

But then Scylla’s voice, hoarse from disuse, cuts through the silence.

“Please stay.”

Who is Raelle to say no after all she’s done?

She stands, awkwardly, rooted to the ground. Feels like her feet are glued to the floor so that she can’t move forwards or backwards. Stuck in a limbo that she’s made herself.

It feels like there are a million miles that stretch between them, cavernous and dangerous— too full of hazards and history to tread.

But then Scylla smiles.

Smiles like Raelle hadn’t tortured her until she was an inch away from death.

Smiles like her face doesn’t ache from the bruises that Raelle put there.

Smiles like forgiveness comes easy and love comes easier.

And Raelle breaks.

She covers a million miles in two large steps and falls into Scylla’s waiting arms.

It feels like a dam has burst inside her chest and she can’t stop the tears or sobs that wrack her body. It’s the first time she’s let herself cry since Tally and Abigail pulled them from the Spree safehouse.

Scylla feels solid against her. Solid, warm, and safe. The resulting flood of pure relief in Raelle only makes her sob harder.

Her hands are shaking too bad to even hold onto Scylla properly, so she settles for pressing her palms into Scylla’s back. For a moment she thinks Scylla might slip through her fingers like sand, but she doesn’t.

She clings onto Raelle just as hard, one hand threaded into her hair and the other stroking down her back in calming passes, pressing kisses to the side of Raelle’s head.

They stay like that for a long time— long enough that Tally eventually slips back into the kitchen with a bag of newly-attained groceries and a sheepish smile.

Abigail is less apologetic with her intrusion when she delivers a heavy pat on Raelle back and announces, “Okay, enough of this. Help us make dinner.”

xx

Progress is slow. It turns out recovery’s not easy; healing’s not easy.

Raelle’s hands shake more often than not and when she finally does sleep, her dreams are often nightmares.

Nightmares of being stuck in her own body while she does dreadful things against her own will and control. Nightmares where reality isn’t real and her friends are dead and Scylla is her enemy.

She wakes up with the memory of a headache pushing against her skull.

A couple days later, she sees Scylla flinch when Abigail quickly raises her arm to throw something towards the trashcan from across the kitchen. The resulting wave of remorse is enough to crush her.

They don’t speak about what happened; Raelle doesn’t know where to start.

She’s getting ready to go down to the beach when Tally breezes past her with nothing more than a, “baby steps are better than standing still.”

It’s said without judgement, just a kind smile.

But Raelle still feels slighted because how could Tally possibly know where to begin when she’s not the one who has to live with the shaking hands and nightmares and the horrible pain of remembering?

The idea seems less difficult when Scylla sits by her in the sand, though.

Raelle had been sitting there on her own when Scylla wandered up and plopped down neatly beside her without a word.

Now the other girl is just laying down in the warm sand, staring up at the cloudy sky, fingers burying themselves in the sand and staying there.

It takes Raelle a laughable amount of time and digging her fingers into the sand to finally break through the mental wall to stay still and turn to look at Scylla.

“I’m sorry.”

She’s staring straight ahead at the ocean, avoiding looking at Scylla when she hears a small laugh.

“I forgive you.”

Raelle only turns because she can tell Scylla is smiling. She looks down at Scylla and the other girl just smiles back, soft and tender and honest.

“We all have things we regret doing.” Her shrug is awkward, pushing sand up by he neck like little dunes. “You don’t have to carry yours around like the weight of the world.”

“But I hurt you. I almost killed…” How pathetic is it that she can’t finish that thought.

Scylla’s hand unearths itself from the sand to inch towards Raelle’s, gently brushes her pinky against Raelle’s wrist.

“But you didn’t. And it wasn’t you. Not the real you, anyway.”

“I hurt you.” She’s a broken record, but she can’t get it out of her head.

“Do you regret it?”

Raelle looks at Scylla like she has two heads, says nothing because of course she does.

Scylla sits up, brushing sand from her loose-fitting white shirt and just smiles again.

“Then I forgive you.” Scylla says, easy as pie. “Because I love you.”

There’s silence between them, but the crashing of the waves is heavy on the shore and Raelle pulls her eyes away from Scylla’s just to see the water smooth the sand over.

When she looks back to Scylla, her eyes are gentle and bluer than the sky and the ocean combined. Tinged with honesty, hope, and affection.

Raelle feels herself take the first step when her hand reaches for Scylla’s on its own—threads their fingers together despite the grains of sand stuck their skin.

“I love you too.”

Scylla smile blossoms into a wide grin and Raelle feels her heart ache for a completely different reason.

“Thank you.” Raelle says, letting herself breathe for the first time in weeks. 

They stay in the sand until the heat fades, the sun sets, and Abigail comes to drag them back indoors for dinner.

[interstellarflowers]

wish you were sober | billy hargrove x reader x steve harringon |

wish you were sober

billy hargrove x reader x steve harrington

summary: parties weren’t your thing, and maybe billy wasn’t either

a/n: hey everyone this is my first shot at writing a stranger things fic, and obviously my first time writing billy so i hope it’s okay! just a disclaimer, i dont condone billy’s behavior in stranger things and if you find yourself in an abusive relationship romantic or otherwise, please seek help! that being said this is inspired by conan gray’s wish you were sober i suggest listening to it while reading, also! the gif isn’t mine! im honestly not sure who made it but credit to them! 

song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHyE_erqAe0

tw: angst, language 

This party's shit, wish we could dip

Go anywhere but here

Parties were so not your scene. Alcohol wasn’t your thing, dancing anywhere outside of your room was out of the question and the music was deafeningly loud. So why were you here? Oh right, Billy fucking Hargrove. How could you even begin to describe your relationship with Billy Hargrove? The only way that you could think to describe it was the same way that you would describe Billy himself, soft in the middle, rough around the edges and full of fluctuations. One second you would feel like you were on top of the world, and the next you would feel as if you’d hit rock bottom. If you got to close you were sure to get cut but the closer you got the better it felt, the more it opened up. Sometimes you weren’t sure if you were talking about Billy or your relationship, sometimes you weren’t sure of anything. 

Tonight, everything was on a downswing. 

The day had started out fine, Billy drove you home from school and had managed to talk you into accompanying him to the party. 

“It’ll be fine (y/n)!”

“What if it’s not?”

“It will be. Now go put on something nice so we can get going.” You sighed but complied, you knew that you’d do anything for him because you had just always assumed that he’d do the same. Assumed.

Not even ten minutes were you at the party and he was already at the keg stand doing exactly what Billy does best, being a reckless little shit. Having left you for alcohol so early on you found yourself frozen, so here you were. 

“(y/n)!” Steve made a beeline for you through the crowd.

“Hey Steve.” you responded meekly,

“What’s up?”

“Oh you know, Billy.” you responded dryly, Steve’s face fell in disappointment.

Steve knew all about your dynamic relationship with Billy, the ups, the downs, but mostly the downs. Steve had been a good friend of yours since diapers so it was only natural that he would know everything about you and Billy,

“What now?” You nodded over in Billy’s direction as you and Steve watched him stumble towards you,

“Harrington.” Billy slurred shooting Steve a look that could kill.

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

And please don't drink more beer

“And that’s when Steve makes an exit,” Steve says patting your back and disappearing back into the crowd,

“What did he want?”

“Nothing Billy, he’s my friend, you know that.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know you don’t like him Billy.” 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing Billy,” you shifted your gaze to the floor, refusing to look Billy in the eye, you didn’t feel like expressing your disappointment in him, you just wanted to make it through the night so that you could just go home,

“I know,” Billy gave you one of his classic smirks failing to notice how you looked down, “You need a drink.”

“Billy, I don’t really drink-”

“Oh? So you don’t want to drink it?” Billy moved his face closer to yours, lifting your chin up, his breath smelt of beer and something else that you were pretty sure you could place as weed.

“Billy please don’t-”

He did anyways, he tasted how he smelt, and you didn’t like it. You waited for him to pull away and watched as he turned to get more beer,

“Billy.” you said over the crowd with a soft tone,

“(y/n).” he turned around, sending shivers down your spine, and not in the way you liked,

“Please don’t drink more beer.” He only laughed and continued walking away. 

I'ma crawl outta the window now

'Cause I don't like anyone around

Kinda hope you're following me out

But this is definitely not my crowd

As the night went on it only got worse, Billy seemed to have an inhuman tolerance for alcohol as he downed one after the other. Ignoring you, leaving you to sit alone. 

You sat at the edge of the pool, your shoes off with just up to your ankles submerged in the chlorinated water. You were taken out of your thoughts when someone over by the porch screamed,

“COPS! EVERYBODY RUN!” 

You quickly stood up stumbling to put your shoes on as you rapidly searched the crowd for Billy, failing to be able to see him through the masses. You finally got your shoes back on and pushed your way through everyone still searching for Billy, you kept searching until you found yourself face to face with a certain someone everyone had been running from-

“(y/l/n)?” Hopper stared at you astonished to see Jane’s on and off babysitter at a party like this,

“Hopper?”

“What are you doing here?” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you struggled to create sentences,

“I want to go home…” you managed to squeak out. Hopper nodded silently before briefly leaving to scan the grounds, having found that everyone else had managed to escape, you followed Hopper to his car.

“Thank you.” you said quietly as you strapped yourself in,

“It’s no problem,” Hopper paused for a second testing the waters, “But I really have to ask (y/n), what in the world were you doing there?”

You shook your head at him and Hopper respected that whatever your reasons were that you didn’t want to talk about it. He decided not to press further, he knew that you were a good kid, so whatever you were doing there, he trusted you.

On the drive home the car was silent but your mind was buzzing with thoughts of Billy. You swore that you could still taste the alcohol from his lips. Every minute or so you couldn’t help but look out the rear view window, wishing that Billy was following you home to say that he was sorry or to at least say goodnight.

“Here we are,” Hopper pulled over in front of you house,

“Thank you.” you said as you got out of his car,

“(y/n)?” you turned to look at him, “Don’t let anybody make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” You nodded firmly and thanked him again before shutting the passenger seat of the car door and quietly letting yourself into your house. 

It was dark, good. The last thing you needed was to deal with your dad tonight, his bedroom door was shut and the lights were off in there too, which meant that you were safe. You took note that your parent’s car wasn’t in the driveway which meant that your Mom was out with one of her men on the side...again. 

You lightly padded down the hallway and let out a sigh of relief as you finally shut your bedroom door. 

“(y/n).” It was him, you turned your head to the right taking notice that your window had been left open.

“Billy.” You couldn’t lie, you were relieved to see him, but you couldn’t hide the hurt in your tone. 

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now

Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Take me where the music ain't too loud

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

Save me 'till the party is over

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

“(y/n),” Billy was hammered, “I didn’t realize that you didn’t escape too, I would have driven you home. So I came here and I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Billy, did you drive here?”

“Yeah, parked down the street.”

“Billy, you’re drunk.”

“(y/n), you’re pretty.” He gave you another classic smirk that only Billy Hargrove could do and placed a kiss to your lips. Alcohol still on his breath. You frowned,

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” you sighed and started to change into your pajamas,

“It’s nothing Billy.” you saw Billy watching you take your clothes off out of the corner of your eye but you didn’t really care in this moment all you could think about was how little Billy seemed to care about you.

“It’s not nothin’, you’re pissed.” Billy put his hands on his hips and faced you as you sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, 

“What is it (y/n)?” Billy moved in closer to you and kissed your forehead, “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He was too close right now. It was too much. You could feel the aftermath of the sound system in your eardrums and it still felt like a train was running through your body, the closer he got the stronger the stench of alcohol was, it was seriously too much, you forced your gaze away from him and your eyes fixated on a crack in your wooden floorboards,

“You’re sweet Billy, but I wish you were sober.” 

I wish you were sober

Wish you were so, wish you were so, wish you were sober

I wish you were sober

“But (y/n), it was a party.”

“I know Bily, I’m sorry, I just, I just wish you were.”

“Sober?” he rolled his eyes at you, “I wish you were drunk.”

“I don’t want to be.” you said quietly as you continued to fixate your gaze on the floorboard.

Tripped down the road, walking home

You kissed me at your door

Pulling me close, begging me to stay over

But I'm over this rollercoaster

Billy’s face faltered and he ran his hands through his hair,

“Look, (y/n), I’m sorry okay? Let’s just go back to my place, and I’ll have you back before your dad even notices you’re gone, okay? Please?” 

“Billy.”

“My dads not home, and Max is at her friend’s, it’ll just be you and me, and we can, we can just...We can just do. You know? Let’s just go (y/n), come on.”

“Billy please.”

“(y/n), let’s go. Love you, you know?.”

Billy never failed to put the “I” in the relationship never failing to completely leave behind his narcissistic ways despite this, Billy Hargrove never failed to leave the “I” out of “I love you.”

“Billy, I love you...I really love you but I’m over this rollercoaster. I’m sorry.”

“(y/n), what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore Billy.”

“Do what? (y/n), yes you can, you just said so.”

“Billy I’m sorry, but you have to leave.” 

“(y/n), you love me, you can’t-”

“Yes Billy, I love you.”

“See? So why-”

“I love you but you’re killing me.”

Billy opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again, he looked at the ground, at you, and then at the ground again before making his way out of your window, leaving you to sit on the edge of your bed tears falling onto your floor. 

I'ma crawl outta the window now

Getting good at saying, "gotta bounce"

Honestly you always let me down

And I know we're not just hanging out

Billy had taught you how to do a few things without even meaning to. He taught you how to get good at hiding disappointment. He taught you to get really good at responding to “gotta bounce.” He taught you how to hold on tight on a rollercoaster. But most importantly he taught you what it was like to die without taking your final breath. 

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now

Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Steve Harrington. You swore he was a different breed. He was eighteen but he acted like he was twenty-five, yeah, it was obnoxious sometimes, but just by looking at him you could tell that it was warranted. He never did tell you about what had happened in the past two years, all you knew was that there were just some things that were better left unsaid, and you were okay with that, you could understand that. 

Steve Harrington was something that you could understand. 

It started slowly, Monday morning after the incident Billy pulled up to your house in the morning only to see you getting into Steve’s car, smiling lightly as Dustin pouted in the backseat.  Billy felt a pang in his chest but ignored it, figuring that all of this would blow over in a week, you loved him after all, and he did love you.

Steve Harrington drove you to school for the rest of that week, and the weeks following, weeks turned into months, and it was March. Three months since the incident and Billy never failed to loop around your block, just in case. Still in denial. 

On the other hand, you had never felt better in your entire life. Steve was a breath of fresh air after breathing in smoke for so long. He had a special mixtape to sing along to on your morning commutes together, he would bring you coffee some mornings, and every day he would greet you with a bright smile and a, 

“Good morning love.” There it was. You smiled at Steve, getting into his passenger seat. Billy had seen you smile before, but never like this, you smiled with your eyes.

“Gross” whined Dustin, “Get a room, and drive me to school already.” Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes,

“Aye aye captain.”

“Another party?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like them,” you sat on Steve’s bed staring at the ceiling, “But I promised that I’d go and I don’t want to leave my best girl alone on a Friday night.”

“Not your girl Steve,” you giggle and Steve smiles and rolls his eyes making his way over to look you in the eyes,

“And I promise that I will not leave your side.” 

Take me where the music ain't too loud

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

Save me 'till the party is over

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

He didn’t. Steve Harrington didn’t leave your side the whole night. Regardless, you let him do his thing, zoning out and following him around like a lost puppy dog. Billy watched from a corner of the party, you and Steve seemed to be getting on nicely. Billy wished that he could say that he was happy that you were happy, he had always wished he could be someone like that, but he couldn’t. He downed his eighth drink of the night as he followed you with his eyes and all he could feel was hurt. 

“(y/n)?” Steve had pulled you into a quieter part of the house,

“Steve.” you smiled up at him, wondering why the sudden shift in attitude,

“(y/n),” Steve took a deep breath looking you in the eye, “I need to tell you something. It’s really important and I’ve been meaning to say it for a while so, here it goes...I love you.” 

Your chest squeezed before you masked your feelings, giggling and rolling your eyes at him,

“You’re drunk Steve.”

“Completely sober actually.” You met Steve’s eyes again,

“Are you for real?”

“Completely and one hundred percent real.”

“Well Steve, I love you too.” Steve smiled at you before leaning down to kiss you. His lips were soft and they tasted like cherry chapstick and rain. 

Sober.

a/n i hope you liked it! thank you for reading! please reblog and like if you enjoyed! should i make a part two?

[obeymestudentcouncil]

Can you do a smut post of "behave" with beel please 💚❤💚🧡

I combined these together, I hope no one minds.  Also kinda fun that the first time I write for Beel is on his birthday.  Hope you all enjoy!  Smut Prompts HERE

It had been a rough day.  Lucifer was on your case about your grades (it was just one bad test score, you knew you’d make it up before the end of term);  you’d agreed to play a game with Levi but the heckling and calling you a ‘normie’ every time you messed up just wasn’t helping, and you had the headache from hell.  So you’d decided to hit the kitchen for some chocolate, only to find Beel already in there…and apparently in your hidden chocolate stash.  “Really?  I had that hidden for a reason.”  You rolled your eyes, grabbing a drink out of the fridge and muttering, turning to storm out of the room to lock yourself in your room with music and a book for the night.  No more demons, just you and some peace and quiet.  

 Beel grabbed your arm, and you spun to glare at him as he swallowed the last of what was supposed to be your emergency chocolate ration.  “Sorry.  I was hungry and I smelled chocolate.”  he was giving you the sad puppy look that he did when you were upset with him but after your day it just didn’t affect you like it normally would.

 You jerked your arm, and he let you go.  “Yeah well, I had it hidden so I’d have it when I needed it.  Which I did, and now it’s gone.”  You glared at him once more before you spun on your heel.  “Just…bite me, Beel.”  You hadn’t even made it two steps before his arm snaked around your waist, tugging you back against his chest.  Before you could react, you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, hard enough to leave imprints but not enough to draw blood.

 He hummed once, then your world upended, leaving you with an admittedly nice view of his ass from your new position over his shoulder.  “Wha-!?  Beel put me down!”  You tried to wriggle loose, but his arm around your waist kept you anchored.

 “Nope!”  His voice had that too-cheerful for a demon cadence.  “You’ve had a bad day, I made it worse.  And you are tensed up so I’m going to help you with that.  Let me help, please?”

 “How do you know I’m that tense?”

 “Your shoulder was like biting a rock.”  He opened a door, your room from the view you got when he turned around to close the door, locking it with a click.  He set you down carefully, then headed for your bathroom.  You could hear the water turn on, filling the tub from the sound of it.  Walking to the door, you watched Beel testing the water temp, herbal smelling steam already wafting from the water.  

 He grinned over his shoulder at you, leading you to the water before heading for the door.  “Call me when you’re in and I’ll come back.  The heat will make getting the knots out of your shoulders easier.”  You waited until you heard the door click before stripping, slipping into the water with a soft hiss at the heat seeping into your muscles as you sank up to your neck for a few minutes.  You pushed yourself back up a few minutes later at a knock on the door.  “You ready?”

 “Yeah, it’s fine to come on in, Beel.”  He came back in the room, a bag of snacks in his hand, munching away.  You rolled your eyes, the laugh was a little forced.  “Really?  Didn’t you just raid my stash and already snacking again.”  At his lopsided grin and nod, you laughed again, letting the rest of your irritation go since he was offering to work the knots out of your back.

 Placing the bag on a table near your tub, Beel reached for the hem of his shirt.  You felt your cheeks start burning, thankful the heat from the bath had already flushed your skin.  “Wait, what?”  

 “Shirt’ll get wet.”  He mumbled around the food in his mouth.  Hooking a stool with his foot, Beel sat down behind the back edge of the tub, his fingers closing around your shoulders as he pulled you back to him.  The first touches were light, his hands questing over your shoulders and upper back, mapping out where the worst of the tension was before his motions became firmer, starting to work at the worst spots.  You sighed, relaxing into the touch, feeling the knots already melting away.

 You’d closed your eyes, your head tipping to rest against one of his arms without realizing it when a sharp bite on your shoulder made you squeal, leaning forward to glare over your shoulder.  “Beel!  Behave!  That hurt.”

 He looked at you sheepishly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.  “Sorry.  I just was checking if you were relaxing yet.”  He grinned, “It’s softer now.  More fun to bite.”  You huffed a laugh, splashing a little water at him.  

 “Alright, I think I’m good now, get out so I can finish up.”  He shook his head, that hunger in his eyes as he looked at you again.

 “Turn around and scoot forward.”  

 You cocked your head at him in question, but finally shrugged and did as he’d asked.  You almost turned back to look at him at the sound of fabric hitting the floor but you resisted.  You did yelp when you felt his body settle into the tub behind you, an arm around your waist pulling you back against him.  Moving his hands so one was on each side of your waist, he started trailing his thumbs up and down either side of your spine.  Meanwhile, his lips and tongue moved over your neck and shoulders, lapping at the water beading on your skin.  You sighed, enjoying the gentle treatment, shivering as the gentle swipes of his tongue were gradually being replaced with the scrape of his teeth as he nipped at you instead.

 Your hands had been resting on his knees where they ran alongside your hips, a smirk on your lips as you decided two could play at his game.  You ran your fingers down his thighs, nails dragging over the skin, feeling an answering twitch from where his growing erection pressed against your back.  He growled, the nips turning to more firm bites, more than a few hard enough to leave marks for the next few days.  Your hands continued to wander, moving behind you to slip down to stroke over his length.  You pulled away, turning around to crawl into his lap, eagerly pressing your lips to his.

 His fingers threaded into your hair as he pulled you closer, lifting your hips so your entrance was pressed against the head of his cock.  You let yourself sink down on him as he deepened the kiss, the both of you moaning as your bodies molded together.  Fully seated on him, you rolled your hips, grinding against him before pushing yourself up again.  As you started rising and dropping on him, Beel’s hands on your hips would pull you back and forth in between thrusts, grinding your pelvis against his.  Your legs were shaking as you felt your orgasm approaching, your head falling back to allow Beel to resume the nipping and kissing along your neck.

 You groaned, feeling your walls clench along his cock as you came, the tightness drawing Beel’s own climax from him almost immediately after.  You clung to him for a moment, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.  You shivered, realizing now that over the course of everything, the bath had gone cold.  You climbed off him and out of the tub, tossing him a towel as you hurried to dry yourself off too.  You hadn’t even gotten your hair dried when you were scooped up again, at least this time he hadn’t slung you over his shoulder.  “Beel…”

 “We’ll be warmer in the bed.”  He grabbed his snacks off the table on the way out.

[harringrovetrashrat]

I have an idea if you're interested in hearing about it!❤ Some pre relationship angst, I think. Basically Steve is driving home late one night in the pouring rain and hits a disassociating Billy with his car and finds himself trying to help because he's a nice guy. Just an idea, though!

This one stumped me a bit!  Whoever is monitoring my google searches is gonna see a lot of ‘what’s it like to get hit by a car?’, ‘hit by car’, ‘pedestrian hit by car’ and maybe think I did a hit and run, but hey whatever.

I edited the prompt a smidge cuz like,, I didn’t want Billy to get like hit hit with the car, but still like, enough that shit happened??  I def messed around a bit, and this ended up more Steve centric than I thought it would, but hey it is what it is.

Anywhoooo, hope you enjoy! (Fic under the cut)

--

Steve was driving aimlessly, unable to sleep.  Again.  Ever since Star Court, almost a year ago now, and honestly since the tunnels, he’d been fucking haunted any time he closed his eyes.  The sounds of the demodogs, the sound of the Flayer, the fucking smell.  He couldn’t escape it.

So now he drove.  Through Hawkins, around Hawkins, outside of Hawkins, as far as he could go.  Steve just drove.  Tonight, he was driving around town, just watching the shadows.  The windows were down, letting the warm, humid summer air in.  He could turn on his A/C, but it was nice feeling the heat.  Especially after--

Something moved in front of his car and he slammed on the breaks.  He jerked to a stop with a gasped what the fuck, but there was an undeniable, though small, thump.  Then there was a louder thump when the shadow slammed something on the hood of the beamer.

Steve felt like he might throw up.

He got out of the car on shaky legs, his stomach rolling, and made his way to the front.  When he saw what the shadow was, Steve was sure he was hallucinating.

Billy Hargrove stood there, unmoving, unblinking, just staring at where he had his hands placed on the hood of Steve’s car.

“Oh my god what?” Steve breathed, rubbing at his eyes.  Billy didn’t respond, just turned his head and looked at Steve, eyes blank.

The last time he had seen Billy was when he helped bring him home from the hospital.  His father hadn’t offered and, apparently, hadn’t told Max and Susan that Billy was going to be released.  So the hospital had called, Max had picked up, and had then called Steve, all anger and tears.  And, well, Billy had saved them.  Had apparently been really quiet and withdrawn and Max was adamant that he was way less of an asshole.  And he had been, but it was because he wasn’t talking.  He’d grumbled a thanks to Steve, had responded to Max with short and abrupt sentences, but other than that, spent his time looking out the window.  It was weird and had made Steve’s stomach twist.

Billy’s hair was longer now than it had been.  Still short, but it was starting to curl around his ears, all soft and cherubic.  He was still thin and hunched over, taking up as little space as he could.  But his eyes--

His eyes looked empty, almost.  Like he was lost inside himself.

“Billy?” Steve tried, nervous to move closer.  Because the Flayer was gone, they knew that, but Billy was being weird.  Once again, he didn’t respond, just kind of stared at Steve.  They stared at each other for a moment before Steve moved slightly closer.  Billy didn’t react.  “Hey are you okay?” He reached out, touching the back of his palm to Billy’s forehead instinctively.

“Sorry,” Billy said, voice shaky and rough, like he didn’t use it a lot.  Or like he had been yelling.  Steve wasn’t sure if there was a better option between the two.

“What?” Steve shook his head.  “I’m the one who hit you with my car-- Shit are you okay?!” He gave Billy a once over, grabbing at him to feel for soft spots.  Billy let him, body slightly limp.  “Does this hurt?” Steve asked, pressing by Billy’s hip.  Billy shook his head.  “This?” Steve tried again, this time by his ribs.  There were no tears in Billy’s clothes, so he wasn’t even sure where he had been hit.

“Can’t feel it,” Billy murmured, voice flat.  Steve looked up, hands wrapped around Billy’s rib cage.

“Like it’s gone numb or…?”

“Can’t feel anything,” was the response.  Steve pulled away, furrowing his brow.  He wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Billy shook his head.  “Home?” Billy made a strange choking sound and shook his head more aggressively.  It was the most he’d responded to Steve the whole time.  Steve bit his lip, not sure what to do.  “The police?” Billy crumpled a little, using the car to keep himself upright.  Instinctively, Steve reached out to help.  “Whoa!  Okay,” he said, voice tight, “No police.  You can’t stay out here, dude.”

“Nowhere else,” Billy replied.  Something uncomfortable tightened in Steve’s chest.

“We’ll go to my place.” The only response he got was a shrug, which was better than nothing, so Steve helped haul Billy, who was still staring blankly ahead and moving limply, into the car.

As he drove, Steve wondered why Billy was out at this time of night.  It was almost 2 now, and Billy was dressed in flannel pajama pants and a ratty old UC Berkeley sweater.  A look for a night in, not wandering the streets.  Steve’s fingers tapped on his thigh as he drove, wanting to ask questions, but not sure that Billy would answer.  He hadn’t stopped staring out the front window, eyes and face blank, like he was there, physically, but far away mentally.  It was so far away from the Billy Steve had known, he was almost like a different person.  A shell of who he was.

When they arrived at his house, Steve helped Billy out of the car.  Billy seemed to have retreated more into himself, which was kind of the opposite of what Steve was going for, so he did what he did best.  He rambled.

“I should have been paying more attention to the road, but I mean, it’s past midnight in Hawkins.  I didn’t think anyone would be out there.” Billy didn’t respond, just followed Steve inside his house.  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?  I hit you with my car, man.  I guess it wasn’t hard since you were still upright but, fuck.” Steve gasped a little for air, the weight of the situation starting to crash on him.  “I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, looking into Billy’s eyes.  Something flickered in Billy’s gaze and his eyes narrowed a little in thought.  “I’m sorry I hit you with my car.  Like, twice now, oh my god.”

“It’s,” Billy paused, looking uncertain, “Okay.” Steve gave him an incredulous look.

“It’s not okay.  It’s not.” Billy didn’t respond to that, looking uncomfortable.  Neither of them spoke, just stood awkwardly in the main hall.

“Am I--” Billy said, voice cutting through the silence, “Am I dreaming?” Steve raised a brow.

“Huh?  No?” Billy’s face crumpled a little and he leaned heavily against Steve’s wall, sliding down to the floor.  “Billy?”

“I know I’m dreaming.  None of this is real.” His voice was stronger now, but still shaky.  Panic formed in Steve’s gut.  He wasn’t a doctor, but this didn’t seem normal.  Didn’t seem right.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said, voice soft and gentle.  “This is real.  I’m right here in front of you.” Billy shook his head and clenched his eyes shut.  “I am,” Steve insisted.

“That’s why it’s not real,” Billy said, voice cracking.  “You’re never around anywhere else.” Steve suddenly felt guilty and confused.  It wasn’t like they had been friends before, but it wasn’t like Steve didn’t also owe his life to Billy.  He could have said thank you, at least.  But it was confusing, the way Billy said it.  Like Steve was often around in his dreams.

He tucked that away for later; the night had been exciting enough.

“I never said it, but thank you, Billy.” Blue eyes locked onto his.  “Those kids wouldn’t be alive without you and you,” he let out a sad laugh, “You didn’t get anything for it.” He slid down next to Billy, not looking at him.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what I expected after you recovered.  We didn’t exactly part on good terms.  But I should have come to thank you, regardless.” When he looked at Billy, he was squinting at him, confused.  “What?”

“That’s not what you usually say,” he replied.  He blinked once, twice, then rapidly for a moment, almost like waking up.  For what felt like the first time tonight, he focused on Steve.  “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are we?” Steve furrowed his brow.

“My house.”

“Why?”

“What-- Why?” Steve spluttered.  Billy watched him carefully before flushing and looking away.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Billy?” Steve said, tilting his head.

“I sometimes,” he licked his lips, “The doctors call it, dissociating.” He picked at the frayed sleeve of his hoodie.  “I kind of disconnect from reality for a bit,” he said, stating it like he was reading it off a sheet of paper, memorized in word only.  “Usually when I, well, come back, I don’t remember it.” He shifted and winced, hissing in pain.  “Fuck, why does my leg fucking hurt?” Steve flushed and reached for his pants.  “Harrington?” Billy asked, voice creeping up in pitch.  Steve checked his calf and saw the beginnings of a bruise at the bottom of Billy’s knee.

“I hit you with my car.  You didn’t even feel it?” It made sense, but fuck.

“I don’t always feel things when I’m out of it,” Billy replied, voice tight.  Steve gently touched the bruise around his knee and heard Billy exhale sharply through his nose.

“Does that hurt?” Steve looked up, face drawn together with concern, but Billy didn’t look like he was in pain.  Maybe like he was freaking out a bit.

“You hit me with your car?” Billy asked, his voice still tight and stressed.  He was staring at where Steve still had his hand cupped around his knee.  Steve pulled back with a blush.

“Yeah, uh, you kinda came outta the shadows and I didn’t break quite it time.” He rubbed the back of his head.  “Did, uh, did you want me to call the cops now?  You didn’t earlier when I asked, but I mean obviously--”

“No,” Billy replied sadly with a shake of his head.  “I’ve had worse.  I’ll be fine.  I mean,” he chuckled humorlessly, “What are they gonna do?” Steve furrowed his brow, unable to answer.

“Are you sure?”

“Harrington,” Billy said, voice laced with exhaustion.  “No one is gonna care.  I’m still alive,” and wow did he sound unhappy about that, “So what is there to do?”

“I don’t-- I mean--”

“Lemme get outta your hair.” Billy began to stand, wincing when his movements were stiffer than expected.  Steve helped him up, grabbing his elbow, but didn’t move away and didn’t let go.

“You said you had nowhere else to go,” Steve whispered.  Billy paled and licked his lips.  “Stay.” Unsure ice blue eyes locked onto his and it made Steve’s breath hitch.  Neither of them spoke, just staring into each other’s eyes.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had noticed how beautiful Billy was, how handsome, but it was the first time he’d been almost overwhelmed by it.  Taken in by his eyes, the cut of his jaw, the very small smattering of freckles.  Steve realized he missed seeing them fan across Billy’s nose, skin kissed by the sun.

“Okay,” Billy replied, voice hoarse.  “Okay.”

[catphistopheles]

I wrote a Thing. And if there is any expressed interest in this Thing, I will continue to add little installments on Tumblr. It’s a heteronormative romantic comedy, kinda tropey, but it’s something I really wanted to type out and have fun with. I’ll continue to write it even if there isn’t any interest on Tumblr, simply because I want to write it no matter what.

So without further ado, here is the first and possibly only installment of *Insert Story Name Here When I Think of a Title*

Melli glowered down at the innocuous little slip of paper that sat on top of her desk. She tapped her paintbrush impatiently on her knee , and she was so aggravated that the tapping became more and more forceful, almost painful on her kneecap.

It was a wedding invitation. 

Worse, it was a wedding invitation from her best friend. The one she had been in love with for years before he fell for another woman. Anders Nilsson. The man with the clever mouth and scrappy temper, the man with the charm oozing out of him, the man with the cold steel blue eyes and the hero jaw and the perfect hair and the whiskey-on-the-rocks voice that kept her company during her divorce. 

They met, as gimicky as it sounded, on a random team assignment for an online game they both played. It was chance, their meeting. One in a million chance that she’d end up on the European servers to get paired with him. Her soon-to-be ex husband at the time just so happened to buy her both the game system and the game itself (as a bribery, a sort of “Sorry I cheated on you for the eighth time, please forgive me” present) the same week Anders just so happened to buy his after leaving rehab for a drug addiction he was determined to leave behind. She and Anders clicked almost instantly, formed a solid game friendship, and eventually branched out to all sorts of games, and even conversations through a messaging app on the phone, and eventually actual phone calls, and it just kept becoming more and more intense. 

She left her shitbag ex, took the game system, found an apartment in a near city with her best friend, and started freelancing as a commissioned artist to make ends meet, the whole while kindling this strong sort of attachment to Anders. Anders was always there for her. He’d call her after he left work--with the time difference, it meant she’d get a good morning phone call every day as she got out of bed. She loved it. And he knew she loved it, and so kept it up just to put a smile on her face.

Melli once mentioned she wished she could see more of Sweden with him, and the next day Anders went far out of his daily commute to surprise her with photos of all the touristy things Stockholm had to offer; old town, with its colorful squished-together houses and cobblestone roads; the many rivers and deltas and lakes around his city; the giant city square with its vastly intricate paved gathering spots. He worked in construction and showed off some of the massive skyscrapers he had a hand in building. He was proud of his work, and his city, and gladly shared these with her at the drop of a hat. 

He’d stay up past midnight telling her his most intimate thoughts and secrets. They’d had really good phone sex many times, and it was sadly and ironically the best sex she’d ever had. She told him she loved him. He rejoiced and told her he loved her.

She fell hard, body and soul, for this man.

And then he fell hard, body and soul, for another woman.

It wasn’t fair. Melli had been saving up money to go to Stockholm when he broke the news that he had found a girlfriend--in fact she was three quarters of the way to her goal. She had scrimped and saved and daydreamed and planned and painted her heart out to sell as many projects as she could (while still paying her bills) to be able to afford the trip. Anders and his girlfriend had a rocky relationship--very on again, off again--and Melli had secretly and ashamedly hoped it wouldn’t last. 

But then again, the invitation on her desk. You fool, It seemed to gloat at her the longer she stared at it, You fell so hard and now you’re bruised and alone. She huffed and swept it off the desk and onto the floor, bitter tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She blinked them away.

Melli prided herself on not being a bitter person. She managed to go all twenty five of her years on this planet without holding grudges, or acting on spite, or being unnecessarily cruel or mean spirited. But there’s only so much heartbreak a girl can take… 

She’d have to go to the wedding, of course. This was her best friend, regardless of any heartbreak, and he’d messaged her weeks ago and asked her to attend. 

“It’s really important to me, if you’re able to make it. I know it’s an expensive trip, but you’re my best friend, Mellibelle. I’d love it if you could be there on the happiest day of my life.”

He was the only person she’d let call her by her full first name. It always made her melt when he said it in that accent of his, with that whiskey voice of his, and so she’d agreed before she could so much as think up a good excuse not to attend. 

It wasn’t the money, of course. She’d become quite successful as a freelance artist--pet portraits, mostly, but every now and then a local gallery would arrange a sale of her less generic works--it was the reality of finally seeing him face to face, close enough to touch and hold and kiss, only for him to be completely off limits. It would kill her. 

She had to go.

“Fuck,” she murmured, and begrudgingly powered up her laptop to look at flights and hotels. 

Footsteps behind her signaled her childhood friend and roommate had woken up for the day. She heard Sofia stoop to pick up the invitation and pause to read it. 

“Oof,” Sofia winced, her voice rough with sleep, “Are you going?” 

Sofia, of course, knew the whole sordid history between Melli and Anders. Sofia knew everything about Melli by proximity alone: they’d been friends since elementary school. Melli swiveled in her chair to level a helpless look at her friend, who opened her arms to offer a hug, and the dam broke, and Melli was crying. Sofia stepped forward and enveloped Melli into her arms. 

“Ah, dear,” Sofia said soothingly, pityingly, as she gently patted Melli’s thick dark hair. “Listen, I know this is going to suck. But you’ve always been so good at making the most out of sucky situations! Why don’t you use a little more out of savings and make it a miniature vacation just for you?”

A tiny spark of promise flared in Melli’s chest. She wiped her eyes on Sofia’s sleep shirt and glanced up at her friend. “A woman alone in a foreign country? Isn’t that just asking for a Liam Neeson film?” 

The feeble attempt at a joke got a snort out of Sofia. 

“You’re street smart and I believe in you. Just don’t go into dark alleys, don’t talk to shifty strangers, listen to your intuition, all that good stuff. You deserve a good vacation after that wedding.” Sofia leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss onto Melli’s forehead. “Treat Yourself: Unrequited Love Edition.”

Melli wrinkled her nose, swiveling back around to open several new tabs in her browser, mind reeling with possibilities. “Ew, don’t say unrequited love. Makes me sound so woebegone. How much do you think it costs to rent a boat?” 

Sofia barked out a laugh as she made her way to the kitchen. “More than what you charge for a painting. But the wedding isn’t for another month so you have plenty of time to get cracking on a few more pet portraits.” (The click of the electric kettle, followed by a yawn.) “Maybe hit up Mrs. Marchpane again. Didn’t her seventh cat just have kittens? She’d probably love a family portrait to go with the fleet she’s already commissioned. She’s so… enthusiastic.”

“Not a bad idea! You’re on a roll this morning, and all before you’ve had your tea!” cracked Melli, typing furiously into a US Dollar-to-Swedish-Krona converter. She opened another tab and started typing an email to Mrs. Marchpane.

Dear Mrs. Marchpane, 

I heard the Glorious Miss Tater Tot just gave birth to seven beautiful little kittens. Are you interested in a family portrait to commemorate this joyous occasion? I can give you a special rate as a congratulations…. 

Melli smiled to herself, floored by the plan that was forming in her mind.

“Sofia?” 

“Yes, dear?”

“I owe you so many souvenirs.”

“Bring me back a moose and we’re even.”

“Deal!”

[builder051]

A poet and a one-man band

Captain America.  No ‘verse.  Could feasibly be Powers/No Powers, Heroverse, or relatively canon.

_____

Steve wakes when he feels Bucky move.  He always does.  He supposes he always has, even in the years before the war.  It was something of a defense mechanism back then, an instinct gone awry.  Instead of sleeping deeply and recharging his frail body, the slightest sound or shift of the mattress would send him sitting bolt upright with his heart hammering in a way that certainly wasn’t healthy.  But his mind was shockingly clear.  Did he need to fight?  Or flee?  Or drag Bucky away from a gun-toting burglar in a black mask?  The adrenaline pumping through his delicate veins made him feel like he could do all of it and then some.  

Steve never had to do any of it.  He’d escorted a green-faced drunken Bucky to the bathroom a few times and firmly insisted he stay put while Steve cleaned vomit out of the bed sheets.  But even then Bucky had stumbled chivalrously, reaching out to the walls of the narrow hallway to avoid putting too much weight on Steve’s skinny arm.  

Nowadays Bucky wakes in the night for very different reasons.  He hardly ever gets up to piss.  He hardly drinks water to begin with.  Sometimes he crashes into Steve, panting and coughing and struggling to breathe.  Sometimes he flails.  Sometimes he rolls to the edge of the mattress and cries.  

The first time each situation arose, Steve overreacted.  “What’s wrong?  What do you need?  What can I do?” he’d asked, grabbing Bucky’s shoulders and hugging him.  Holding him.  Then eventually letting go when it became clear he didn’t have the magic touch Bucky needed.  The loving whispers just made it worse, though it was hard to interpret the subtle shades of sniffle and grunt.

This time when Bucky moves, he curls carelessly, his head sliding off the pillow toward his knees, which peek out from the warm tent of the quilt.  He groans as he forms a ball, and his bony ass clips Steve’s hip.  It’s not the kind of loving brush that should happen beneath the covers, and not nap jerk either.  It’s not the movement of someone who’s asleep and dreaming.  Just the movement of someone who’s unaware.  

“Hey.”  Steve reaches for Bucky’s lower back, pretending he can’t feel the hard ridges of bone along his lumbar spine.  “You ok?”

“Hmph.”  Bucky sits up and pushes the quilt away.  At first Steve thinks he’s bristling, but the shiver doesn’t stop.  The hem of his t-shirt vibrates in a blur of a quiver.  Bucky stands, letting in a gust of winter air that makes Steve’s nipples go hard.  Steve burrows into the blankets and crosses his arms, squeezing his biceps in calloused hands.  Bucky probably doesn’t need him right now, but it makes no difference.  Cold, arousal, weakness… Steve still isn’t allowed to feel.  

There’s silence until liquid hits water with a disgusting splash.  Steve wonders if he’s hearing correctly; fluid in the eustachian tubes does funny things to acoustics, and they haven’t lived here that long.  Something might be wrong with the plumbing…

But who’s he kidding?  Steve doesn’t get sick anymore.  There’s no need to second guess himself.  But Bucky doesn’t get sick either, at least not to his knowledge.

“Buck?  You alright?” Steve calls as he leaps out of bed in a bent-kneed attack stance and jogs the 15 feet into the ensuite.  He isn’t sure what kind of offensive he’s going to launch against an attack of vomiting, but he’s prepared at least.

“Hm.  Yeah.”  Bucky coughs and tears off a length of toilet paper, but drops it when he starts gagging again.  

“No, you’re not.”  Steve starts to kneel beside him, but Bucky puts up his hand.  

He spits.  “Yeah,” he repeats, failing to find the toilet paper and wiping his mouth on his sleeve instead.  “’M fine.  ’M done.”

Steve sighs and bites his lip.  “Ok.”  He pats Bucky’s shoulder, but retracts the touch when he flinches.  “Alright.”  He rocks back on his heels and creeps toward the bedroom until he hears the toilet flush and feels Bucky, cat-like and shadowy behind him.

They lie down a foot apart, and the next thing Steve knows, morning sun is streaming in and the bell on his alarm clock is ringing shrilly.  Bucky’s pale, but his head rests in the crevice between their pillows like usual, so Steve assumes that’s that.  It was a one-off.  Some bad bite of chicken or rotten nightmare that may or may not warrant retelling.  He won’t push Bucky to talk, Steve promises himself.  He won’t be that guy.

He lasts 20 minutes.  Steve suspects it would’ve been longer if Bucky hadn’t suddenly slumped over his elbow and dry heaved onto the floor.

“Whoa, alright,” Steve says, leaving the orange juice on the counter and rushing to Bucky’s side.

A rough belch explodes from Bucky’s throat along with a few drips of saliva.  Steve waits for him to speak or cough or cry, even.  But he doesn’t.  He just gulps and breathes shallowly.  

“You must be feeling pretty sick.”  Steve pushes a strand of sweaty hair back from Bucky’s forehead.  He touches his skin gently with the backs of his knuckles.  He isn’t warm, but he seems to be tender.  Bucky blinks hard in the way that means pain.  

Steve wishes he’d say something.  Anything would be reassuring; yeah, or a faked I’m fine, or even fuck you.  “What do you want to do?” Steve whispers, trailing his thumb down the line of stubble connecting Bucky’s bangs to his cheek to his moustache.  “Bathroom?  Bed?  Or water?  Or…?”  He trails off, feeling his brows knit as he tries to pick apart the blank look in Bucky’s eyes.

Steve winds up putting him in the car.  He knows as well as anyone that it’s a disaster waiting to happen, but he can’t take the empty, silent stare.  Bucky’s in pain, and sitting at the breakfast table and watching him go grey at the sight of steam coming off a cup of peppermint tea is as good as torture for Steve.  

They stop four blocks from the house for Bucky to throw up again.  Nothing, again.  “Aw, Buck.”  Steve pats him softly between the shoulder blades until he stops gagging, then walks back around to the driver’s seat.  He looks at Bucky’s hands resting at a quiver on his knees and holds one as he navigates the neighborhood at a crawl.  

It’s possible to get to Sam at home without nosing out onto any major roads.  Steve’s grateful for it; he’d hate to toss Bucky into the realm of stoplights and honking horns that make up the route to the VA.  Steve just hopes it’s early enough that their friend is still at home.  

He pulls into the driveway behind Sam’s burgundy Corolla, effectively parking him in.  It shores up the help, too, but Steve doesn’t like to think that way.  He doesn’t like not knowing what to do with Bucky, how to help Bucky.  Because after all they’ve been through, he should.  He should know better than anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says to Sam instead of hello.  “He keeps throwing up, but no fever, and we didn’t eat anything weird.”

“Ok, um…”  Sam drops his work bag and travel mug on the kitchen table and leads Bucky to the sink before the retch written on his face can turn material.  Steve follows with a kitchen chair because he doesn’t trust Bucky’s ability to stay on his feet.  

“Ok, ok,” Sam murmurs, leaning with Bucky over the basin and looking perfectly at home like a PJ in the field.  Steve feels useless, standing alone in a kitchen that isn’t his.

“You wanna just give us a minute?” Sam asks over his shoulder.

Steve wants to say no, but that would defeat the purpose of coming to begin with.  He trudges to the living room and watches Good Morning America while he alphabetizes the magazines on the coffee table.

Quiet murmurings come from the next room for a while, then footsteps.  Steve looks up quickly, but he barely glimpses what looks like a three-legged shadow stuttering down the hallway.

“Alright,” Sam says matter-of-factly, reappearing to clap Steve on the arm with what’s probably supposed to be a grounding touch.  “Sorry if I spooked you.  He’s gonna lie down.  You wanna talk?”

“Yeah.”  Steve sits up straighter.  “What’s wrong with him?”  He shakes his head at his choice of words.  “I mean, why’s he sick?  What…?”

“Well, you probably need a doctor to know for sure-for sure.”  Sam smiles sadly.  “But… You know about depression, right?  Anxiety?  Stress?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, slowly and stupidly.  “I mean, I haven’t discussed them in detail, but I’ve read pamphlets.”

“Geez, sometimes I think SHIELD is worse than a high school guidance counselor.”  Sam laughs.  “Long story short, they wreck a person.  Badly.”

“He’s just sad?”  Steve’s heart drops down to his stomach.  “Or… Overwhelmed?”  His brain takes off again, wondering how in the world he missed this, how Bucky could be so hurt and not show it, not ask for help.

“It’s not that simple,” Sam says.  “But if it helps you process it to think of it that way, well, yeah, kinda.  It’s not regular sad, not civilian sad.  You saw bad shit in combat, right?  Saw people die?”

Steve nods.  He saw Bucky die.  He wanted to mourn him, but never had time before something came up, then another thing, and another thing, and then Bucky was back.  

“It makes some guys get angry.  Some have survivor’s guilt.”  Sam shrugs.  “Some guys need to hit things when it gets bad.  Some get sick to their stomachs.”

It makes sense.  The worst kind of sense, the horrible oversimplified kind that means he understood it the whole time, his view was just skewed.  Like the easy math problems he’d miss on tests at school because he looked out the window at the wrong time.  Steve feels guilty all over again, thinking back frantically to find where he turned his view away from Bucky and why and how he can put it back.

“I…” he says slowly.  “Is he gonna be ok?”

“Yeah,” Sam says.  “Soon.”  He gets to his feet.  “Want some coffee?”

Steve looks up at him.  “Aren’t you going to work?”

“Nah,” Sam replies.  “You’re looking after your boy.  Somebody’s gotta look after you.”

Steve can’t help but chuckle.  “Thanks,” he says.  “I appreciate it.”

[lazyfox411]

Qrow Angst

This is the first ever fic I’ve written for RWBY! and the first one ive published in a hot minute  thanks to @r3al-illusion and @spiderling-the-meme for being my awesome beta readers! love you guys <3 this is compliant with and set immediately after the volume 5 finale (so...spoilers if you havent seen that?) pretty please yall tell me what you think of this!! this will be my first work in this fandom and i want to know if you guys would like to see more!

His hands were shaking. He needed a drink.

After a minute of inspection, he handed the relic back to Yang. She didn't much look like she wanted to hold it, but neither did Qrow; he'd already made up his mind on carrying Ozpin--err, Oscar--back to the house, and his shaky hands were threatening to drop the lantern if he didn't hand it off. He was a trained huntsman, but he'd taken some heavy hits, and his aura could only protect him so much. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and replacing it was a plethora of aches and pains. The worst, though, was the hollow, empty feeling in his chest. Growing, and festering, threatening to swallow him whole. He slipped his flask from his pocket and took a swig, but it didn't help like it usually did.

Pro huntsmen don't just disappear like that.

They don't, Qrow thought bitterly, unless they get mixed up in the business of a bad luck charm.

It was too late now. They were all gone. Maybe if he had warned them, if he wasn't such a fuck-up, if he would just get his head out of the goddamn gutter then maybe he could have prevented this, maybe they could have taken out Salem long ago, or at least maybe he would have known better than to just let Lionheart keep scheming.

But he hadn't done any of that. And all of those innocent people had paid the price. Maybe to some they didn't seem innocent, and sure, not all were respectable, some were lowlifes that scrounged around bars and taverns, but none of them had deserved to die for a cause they didn't even know existed.

He scooped up Oscar. The poor kid was still passed out on the floor, looking very small and very exhausted. It was hard to believe Beacon's former headmaster was stowed away inside. 

Qrow looked around for the rest of his kids, subconsciously wondering when he'd ever started to consider them "his" kids. The Schnee girl was handling the bombardment of questions from gathering police and reporters, telling them only what they needed to know and remaining composed and cordial.

Just like her sister, Qrow reflected, and very much unlike himself. Hell, he was ready to just yell at all these nosy people to just go home and mind their own damn business. He didn’t have the energy for this.

The dark-haired girl who had just shown up, Qrow recognized her as one of Ruby's teammates he'd been told so much about, though he couldn't for the life of him remember her name with the pounding in his head getting worse and exhaustion sweeping in. She had turned to address the massive group of Faunus she'd brought with her, thanking them for coming and bringing down Adam Taurus, and even though he'd escaped they'd done a number on him and blah blah blah. Qrow lost interest.

Yang had retrieved her arm, now, and was helping Ruby to her feet. The blond kid and what was left of his team were gushing over his newfound semblance, and Qrow...Qrow was tired.

He was silent on the walk home. Ruby and her teammates blabbered the whole way, filling each other in on their adventures. The dark haired girl introduced herself as Blake, and the other Faunus boy she'd brought with her was Sun.

"Pleasure to meet you," Qrow managed in a low, gravelly voice, "Ruby's told me a lot about you."

He tuned everything out after that. Or rather, the fuzzy, ringing sound in his head took over, and he didn't try to stop it.

They'd arranged a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor for Oscar when he'd showed up, but this time Qrow brought the boy to the room he shared with Ruby, and laid him in his own bed where he could rest more comfortably.

Qrow was pretty sure every bone in his body cracked as he straightened up, and a stitch in his side had him lowering himself back down to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled out his scroll, and uncapped his flask, and went over the list of names one last time. All brave, strong warriors. All gone. All because of him.

A part of him knew that not all of this had to be his fault, and Lionheart's betrayal was really to blame, but right now that part was swallowed in grief and loathing.

He tossed his scroll aside and set his head in his hand. "What do I do, Oz?"

The only reply was Oscar's soft breathing.

Qrow hauled himself to his feet, grunting with the effort, and hobbled his way back into the living room. God, he'd never felt this old before.

The rest of the kids were sat in a ring around the relic, curled up on couches and cross-legged on the floor. They all stared at him when he walked in.

"You should all get some rest," Qrow told them, noting the way their eyes drooped and shoulders sagged. One by one, they filed out of the room, mumbling quietly about sleeping arrangements now that there were more of them in the group.

He and Ruby were the last in the room. She smiled up at him tiredly and stretched out her arms towards him.

"Nope," he denied her grabby hands, though they both knew he'd already caved. He groaned as he gave in and scooped her up in his arms. Qrow was exhausted, but there was no way he could say no to his little niece.

He carried her to bed and tucked her in, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"You gonna be alright, kiddo? Is there anything else you need?" He asked softly, or as softly as he could.

Ruby looked up at him with wide silver eyes. "Some water might be nice. Please," she added, and, "I love you, Uncle Qrow."

He gave her a wry smile, "Get some sleep, kiddo." He paused as he left the room. "Love you too."

She was asleep when he got back. He set her glass of water on the bedside table and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He left a second glass for Oscar, and gathered up the tray he'd prepared for the rest of the kids.

He went to Yang and Weiss' room first. Blake was with them, and they each gratefully accepted a glass of water. Yang gave him a quick side hug. He didn’t miss the haunted look that hadn't left her eyes since the loss of her arm.

"You did good today, Firecracker," he told her, "take it easy."

"You too," she nudged him gently with her elbow, "old man."

Qrow chuckled. That certainly didn't help make him feel any younger.

Jaune accepted the tray and what was left of the glasses with a nod and thank you, and disappeared into his room where the rest of the team was holed up. Qrow all but collapsed on the couch after that, basking in the silence. It was only a few minutes before his hands started shaking again.

How much did Shiro owe you?

Qrow took another drink.

His name is clear.

He sat, and he drank, and he tried not to think.

There was light shining through the windows when he finally pulled himself out of his thoughts. He didn’t dare look at the clock, didn't want to know how many hours he'd spent just sitting and thinking. He'd emptied the flask.

"Uncle Qrow?" The voice was Yang's.

It took him a moment to remember how to move. Slowly, he turned his head. Yang, Weiss and Blake were standing in the threshold, all looking concerned.

What are they looking at, Qrow thought, brain going numb again, there's nothing to see.

"Uncle Qrow, are you alright?"

"Peachy," he muttered.

"Are you hungry?" Yang asked tentatively. "We were going to make some pancakes."

The thought of eating made him want to vomit. "No."

"Maybe you could help us make them," Weiss offered, and bent down to speak to him as if he were a child, "to take your mind off things."

A part of him knew they were just trying to be nice, trying to help, but that was the same part that knew all those deaths weren't all his fault. Something inside Qrow snapped.

"I said no!" he roared, pushing himself off the couch and making his way to the door.

Listen buddy, I'm having a rough week. Can you tell me where she is or not?

"Uncle Qrow?"

Daddy?

"Where are you going?"

Does this man know where mommy is?

"Out," Qrow snapped, I'm terribly sorry to bother you.

He slammed the door with enough force to knock a few shingles loose. Just his luck.

He slapped some lien down on the counter.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked.

"Whatever you've got," Qrow said hoarsely, shifting in his seat. His back was just about killing him.

Pity filled the old barkeep's eyes, mixed with a sad understanding. Qrow pretended not to notice. He downed the first drink, and the second. Stopped counting after that. Kept going until he couldn't feel himself shaking anymore.

The bar wasn't empty, not quite, there was somebody passed out in a corner, and a group of people engaged in a poker game around a worn table.

A woman stood up from the poker table to get her group another round of drinks. She bumped into Qrow at the counter.

"Sorry," she said.

"Hmph," Qrow mumbled.

Five minutes later, she lost the game.

"Guess your luck ran dry tonight," one of her friends said. Qrow started to laugh, quietly at first, ending in a series of loud, hacking coughs. Heads turned. They all looked at him like he was a lunatic. Hell, maybe he was.

He stood up from his seat, clutching onto the edge of the counter.

"Did I--hurp--pay you 'nuff?" he slurred at the bartender.

The old man didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Do you have a family?"

Qrow scoffed, thinking of Raven. Then he thought about Ruby, and Yang, and the other kids.

"Kinda," he replied, blinking the blurry spots out of his vision.

"Go home," the bartender said, not unkindly.

The cold air hit him like a brick wall when he stepped outside, suffocating, imposing, encasing. The force knocked him to weak knees, and he vomited a stream of bile onto the ground. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything. Maybe he should have taken the girls up on their pancake offer.

God, he'd really yelled at them, hadn't he? What was Ozpin going to say to him? What was Ruby, sweet and innocent Ruby, going to think of her beloved uncle now? All those kids looked to him like he was the adult, the grownup, but they were more grown than he'd ever be. They'd all lost people, people they were close to, and they were still fighting. And where was Qrow? On the ground, drunk and alone, in the middle of the night. When had it even gotten dark?

"I'm sorry," he said, to no one in particular.

Overhead, a flash of lightning lit the sky, beckoning a clap of thunder, and all at once, the heavens rained down, drenching the city of Mistral in heavy rain.

"Seems about right," Qrow muttered, hauling himself to his feet. It wasn't long before he began shivering. He pulled his tattered cape tighter around his shoulders and headed back to his kids.

He fumbled with his key in front of the house, clothes soaked through and dripping wet. Inside, he leaned against the door as shivers racked his frame and water pooled beneath him in a puddle. He closed his eyes and and waited for it all to subside.

"Uncle Qrow?"

"Ruby," he sighed, looking to where she was perched alone on the edge of the couch, "what are you doing up?"

"Waiting for you," she said simply. "Where have you been? We've missed you."

They both knew she already knew the answer.

"I missed you," Ruby continued. "I was worried."

Qrow opened his mouth, but then closed it. He didn’t know what to say. Ruby was worried. He'd worried her. She cared about him. Maybe he should feel grateful about that, but all he could feel right now was ashamed.

"Come sit down," Ruby patted the couch next to her, "you look tired."

That was probably true. He hadn't slept in a while. Qrow shuffled over and slouched into the soft fabric.

Ruby tugged a blanket over his shoulders, sticking her tongue out as she concentrated on adjusting it just right. Qrow just sat there and let her.

"There," she said, curling up next to him, warmth pressed against his side. She didn't say anything for a few minutes, which was unusual for her, and then came a soft, "I'm sorry Uncle Qrow."

What was left of Qrow's cold, bitter heart shattered.

"No, kid, no, it's not--this is my fault, this is all on me. I'm the one who's sorry. Don't be sorry, don't blame yourself for, for this," he gestured vaguely at himself, his current state, "for me. I'm just..."

"It's ok," Ruby said, and Qrow was inclined to believe her, because she was so honest and pure and good. "I know it's hard, Uncle Qrow, I understand."

Having this conversation was a hell of a lot harder than anything he'd imagined.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "You kids deserve better than this, you deserve better than this, kiddo. I'm...I'll do better, I can do better."

Ruby smiled, and hugged him tighter. "I love you, Uncle Qrow."

Qrow let his eyes slip shut, and rested his chin on her head. "I love you too," he whispered.

[seasonofthegeek]

Ninette Week, Day 6: First Kiss

Days 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6:

“How dare you, girl?!”

Marinette froze at the door, her keys still wedged into the lock as Alya’s laughter floated down the hall.

“She didn’t mean it, Alya. Obviously you’re the fox’s socks.” Adrien’s voice interjected, full of humor.

Marinette heard herself chime in. “Is that Rena’s version of the bee’s knees?” She followed the voices down the hall to her old bedroom. Nino was sitting at his desk, watching a video on the new computer monitor he’d gotten.

He turned in the desk chair, wiping at his red eyes. “Hey,” he said hoarsely, reaching back to pause the video.

“Hey.” She crossed the room and stood by his chair. He pulled her down onto his lap and hugged her tight.

“I was hooking everything up and wanted to test it with video so I pulled one over from my phone.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize it would affect me so much today.”

“This is when you got that new phone that was almost as big as a tablet, isn’t it? You were recording everything for like a week.”

He chuckled softly, holding her close. “Yeah, Alya hid it for a few day when I wouldn’t stop.”

The screen was paused on Adrien’s face caught in a half-smile. “It’s going to be a year next Thursday.”

“Do you want to do something?”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe we could go out to dinner? Turn it into a celebration of getting to have them in our lives even for a little while?”

“Because if we stay here, we might end up having a rough night,” Marinette nodded, catching his drift.

“Maybe.”

“I think dinner out would be nice. Maybe we can come back and watch more videos.”

“We can see how we’re feeling.”

Marinette kissed the top of his head. “Okay.”

______________________________

Nino brandished a forkful of salad. “To be fair, Adrien really was a great wingman at the zoo that day. He was determined to get us together.”

Marinette laughed. “Alya was so mad at me when I said I would set you guys up.”

“And then you locked us in a cage for hours.”

“Hey, Otis proved to be a difficult akuma.” She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “It’s all a little crazy to think about, isn’t it? If something had happened between us that day, our lives would’ve been completely different.”

“Yeah, and now you could be sitting here with Adrien instead of me.” Nino frowned as he finished speaking. “Sorry, that sounded better before it actually came out.”

“We don’t have to pretend like we haven’t thought about it,” she replied carefully, chasing a crouton with her fork. “I’m sure you wished I was Alya before.”

“Yeah, I won’t deny that.”

“And yeah, I hoped Adrien was the one who came through with me.” Marinette’s brows furrowed as her appetite dwindled. “It would’ve been easier in some ways.”

“True.”

“But I would’ve never know what it’s like to be with you if he had and sometimes I don’t know what to do with that feeling because what he and I had meant everything to me, but what you and I have also means everything to me.”

“I don’t think they have to be exclusive. That’s a really good way to describe it actually. I don’t think of our relationship as better or worse than what I had with Alya. It’s just different and I think that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded and played with her salad. “Do you wonder if they maybe found comfort in each other like we did?”

“Yeah, I love and hate the thought of it.”

She smiled. “I’m glad it’s not just me then.”

“Did you know Adrien called me after your first kiss?”

“He did?”

Nino grinned and nodded, sitting back in his chair. “He babbled for like ten minutes straight until I gathered what had happened.”

“That was the night we told each other who we were too. Big night.”

“Yeah.”

“Alya totally held out on me with your first kiss. She didn’t tell me for like a week!”

“That sounds like her.”

“She said she was still feeling out the waters,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “As if she wasn’t completely smitten with you.

“I think we’re all dorks.”

“I think you’re right.” ______________________________

“I can’t do the videos.” Marinette stood in the bathroom doorway with her pajamas tucked in her arm. “I kept thinking I could if I waited a little later into the night but I don’t have it in me.”

“That’s okay, Mari. Is it going to bother you if I do?” Nino asked, dropping his shirt in the hamper. “I can keep the volume low and close the door.”

“Of course not. Do whatever you need to. I’ll be here when you get done.” She sent him a fond smile and slipped into the bathroom.

Tears began to fill her eyes as she stared at her reflection so she made herself concentrate on undressing. Dinner had been delicious and it felt good to be honest about things with Nino. She didn’t want to hide her feelings from him but she felt like she needed to mourn in peace for a few moments. She’d accepted their new life, even grown to love parts of it, especially the Nino parts, but it was still hard. There was no reason to pretend it wasn’t.

She carefully washed the makeup from her face. She wiped a toner on her skin and enjoyed the light sting. She brushed her teeth and remembered the way Adrien would try to get her to talk to him when she was foaming at the mouth with toothpaste. She finished her nightly ritual and sat down in the corner of the bathroom on the fluffy gray mat and cried. ______________________________

“Are you okay?” Nino asked softly when Marinette finally crawled into bed.

“I am,” she nodded, immediately curling into his side. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “I think we needed that.”

“Mmhmm.”

“To be honest, I could only get through one of the videos. Everything felt fresh again tonight.”

“I think tomorrow will be easier.”

“The start of Year Two.”

Marinette wrapped her arm around his middle and snuggled closer. “It’s bizarre to think about, isn’t it? We’ve been here so long now.”

“It hurts my head to think about sometimes.”

“Mine too.”

“We never celebrated our birthdays.”

Marinette blinked in surprise. “I…I didn’t even realize.”

“That was the video I watched, Alya’s not-actually-a-surprise surprise party. I remember being so sure we had pulled one over on her.”

“We were delusional,” Marinette smiled. “So our goal this year should be to celebrate at least four days.”

“Which days?”

“Well, we need to make up for our birthdays obviously so that’s two.”

“Okay.”

“And then this day to remember everyone we had to leave behind.”

“Right.”

“And then the day we decided to be enough for each other,” she added shyly, pressing a kiss to his chest.

There was a pause and then Marinette heard Nino’s heartbeat speed up against her ear.

“I love you,” he said, voice rushed. “Sorry that was sudden. I’ve been wanting to say it and it’s okay if—“

“I love you too.” ______________________________

“Okay, Mari, we’re agreeing on one small dog, right?” Nino squeezed her hand as they neared the animal shelter entrance.

“Yeah, one small dog. That’s really all we have room for in the apartment,” she nodded.

“So no matter what else we see in there, no matter how many animals need homes, we’re just looking for one small dog.”

“You know, I am actually an adult who can make wise decisions,” she rebutted, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m not doubting your usual wisdom, sweetheart, but I’ve seen you around enough animals to know that lovely wisdom usually takes a break when there is a lot of fluffy cuteness around.”

“Rude.”

He grinned and raised their joined hands to his lips for a quick kiss before opening the door for her. ______________________________

“Okay, I know what we agreed on, but hear me out,” Marinette began.

“One small dog,” Nino reminded her.

“But when we’re both at work, he might get lonely.” Marinette cuddled the tan puppy close to her chest.

“This little guy is actually already adopted,” a volunteer said gently. “He’s just waiting on his surgery. We don’t have any available puppies right now.”

“Oh,” Marinette frowned. “What about grown dogs?”

“Sure, follow me.” He took the puppy from her and set it back in the pen and waved a hand. Marinette glanced back toward Nino and they set off after the shelter volunteer. As soon as the door opened, dogs began to bark and jump for attention. “Just let me know if you guys need any help.”

Marinette and Nino slowly made their way down the line of kennels. “These are all a little bigger than I was thinking.”

“Yeah, I was wanting to start smaller for our first pet. Get our feet wet first? I feel kinda guilty now though.”

“I know what you mean. All of these sweet puppers need homes too.”

“How’s it going, guys?”

Nino turned to the volunteer. “I’m not sure any of these are the right fit for us unfortunately.”

Marinette made a small helpless noise, looking back at the kennels.

“Are you guys only interested in dogs? If it is an issue of space, cats do really well in apartments.”

“No, I don’t think—“

“Can we see the cats?” Marinette asked, biting her lip.

Nino turned to her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “We can at least look.”

“Cats or kittens?” the volunteer asked.

“Cats, I think,” Marinette answered, falling into step behind him. ______________________________

“This can’t be real.”

Nino and Marinette stared at the black cat with bright green eyes and he stared right back at them.

“Are you guy interested in Adrien?” Another volunteer was in the cat room and joined them by the cage. “He’s such a sweetheart. I can get him out if you want.”

Marinette took a hesitant step away from the cage. “I’m not sure.”

“I was about to get him out to play anyway so you guys can watch if you’d like.”

Nino pulled Marinette against his chest as they watched the volunteer open the cage and coax the cat out. He kept his eyes on them but allowed her to pick him up and set him on the floor.

“Let’s see, who should you play with today?” The volunteer walked down the line of cages and poked her fingers into one. “What do you think, Alya? Want some time out?”

“I’m sorry. We have to go,” Marinette said quickly, pulling Nino with her. They didn’t speak until they reached the bus stop. “What was that?” she asked, voice strained.

“Very bad luck, I think,” Nino sighed. “The weirdest luck ever.”

“How is it possible there were two adoptable cats with their names?”

“I think maybe we should hold off on a pet.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

They at on the bench and waited.

“I wonder if they were friends.”

Nino glanced over at his girlfriend. “What?”

“Well, if the volunteer was getting them out to play together, they’re probably friends, right?”

“I mean, I guess…if cats are friends with each other.”

“What if they don’t get adopted together? What if they get split up and never see each other again?”

“Mari…”

She stood. “We have to go back and get them.”

“Marinette, hang on a second.”

“No, we need to go now, Nino.” She tugged on his arm. “Someone might be trying to split them up. They need us.”

“Listen, I think we need to go home and think this over and—“

“Please,” she begged, voice breaking. “Please, Nino, we need to bring them home with us.”

He let her pull him up and they began the trek back to the shelter. “We don’t have any cat stuff.”

“We don’t have dog stuff either. We’ll buy what we need.”

“Are you sure this isn’t going to be too much for you? It’s weird. You have to admit it’s weird,” he said.

“I know, but…maybe it’s a sign, you know? We can save them here.”

He studied her for a moment as they walked and finally nodded. “Okay.”

Buy me a cherry coke?