#no one told me that losing weight would make me freeze to death in winter like holy fuck

[hanhowls]

.

[oi-loverboy]

Oh Darling

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Summary: Levi had gotten close to you after you displayed several acts of kindness to him, that is until he fears becoming too emotionally involved with you. 

TW: language, some fluff, angst, mentions of death and violence

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You had built a strong friendship with Levi, both of you leaning on each other and giving your full trust to each other. You would take care of each other, be there when either one seemed to be at their lowest point, and help each other on late nights full of paperwork. You were the only person that he allowed to bring him tea, he had showed you how to make his tea after he made both of you some on a late night. He was slightly shocked at how willing you were to learn something so small just to satisfy him. Your friends eyed the both of you questioningly the first time they saw you place the cup of tea in front of him, watching as he nodded at you in appreciation before taking a sip. They stared at him intensely, waiting for a complaint about how shitty the tea was but he didn’t utter a word. They soon began to grow used to the comfort you and Levi seek out of each other, liking the fact their friend found someone.

-Flashback-

Erwin had ordered yours and Levi’s squad to accompany Hanji in an expedition to help them further their knowledge on the Titans. You happily agreed thinking it would be nice to get some fresh air even if it meant fighting the Titans but you wouldn’t have to deal with the paperwork on your desk.

You were riding beside Levi, sometimes keeping up a conversation or being in comfortable silence. The sun was beginning to set, you glanced at Levi watching as he tilted his canteen back, scowling at the lack of water. You looked at your own canteen ready to hand it to him but you knew that it would make him slightly uncomfortable if the cadets started teasing the both of you.

The squads had settled in a comfortable spot, fires were made in three different spots, allowing the cadets to huddle up in their makeshift beds around the fires. Hanji was occupied, looking around the forests in search of any Titans they could study on. You knew they were restless when it came to situations like these, which meant that neither you or Levi would be sleeping tonight. You made your way towards him, he was sitting on a blanket in front of the fire as he watched Hanji go deeper into the forest. Once you were close enough, you stopped and placed your hand out that was holding your canteen full of water. Levi turned around and looked at it before glancing up at you, slightly turning his head as if questioning you.

“I saw that you didn’t have any water left, I know you’re used to the harsh conditions but as long as I can prevent it you will stay safe and hydrated at least,” you explain, giving him a small smile.

Levi gives you a small nod, the corners of his lips slightly curving up in a small smile only you could see. He took the canteen from your hand and gratefully began drinking from it, handing it back to you before scooting over for you to sit on the blanket with him.

——————————————————————————

There were times when Levi would hug you in the privacy of his office, sometimes for random reasons and other times it was a long hug meant to comfort either one of you. He had become more touchy with you, more than he was with anyone else. His touch brought you comfort, even if it was as small as feeling him poke your ribs to catch your attention. You were his safe haven, as he was yours.

-flashback-

The scouts were sent to an expedition in the middle of winter, the harsh weather most likely going to impact the cadets. You had brought a few blankets to form layers, a small bag of Levi’s favorite tea, and two canteens full of water. After a few hours of going through the harsh weather conditions, the group found a cave big enough to fit all if everyone scattered around. You had found a spot in the back of the cave, lighting your own small fire near you as you placed a small pot filled with water on it, brewing the tea. Erwin had asked you to stay and keep watch of the cadets, watching them make themselves a small home in the cave and seek comfort from each other. You had placed three layers of blankets on top of you in attempt to warm yourself up more. Levi, Hanji, and Erwin had been out for the past hour making you worry, you knew that they could handle this but it’s been too long and they didn’t have much to stay warm. It was only a matter of time before they got sick. You felt slightly relieved when you saw your three friends come in, slightly shaking the snow off of their shoulders. Hanji was quick to run to the fire, their nose red as they rubbed their hands together rapidly, almost as if trying to start a fire. Erwin had quickly wrapped himself in a blanket, his body shivering aggressively. You quickly looked at Levi to see his condition only to see his nose and cheeks red, teeth chattering loudly, and his body shivering to the point that it made him look stiff and seem like it was hard for him to move. You quickly waved him over, watching him walk towards you as he slowly got on his knees in front of you. You quickly opened up your cocoon of blankets, gently brushing the snow off his hair before you grabbed his freezing hands and pulled him close to you. You spread your legs open, allowing him to fit his body in between with his back facing you and his head laying on your chest. You quickly wrapped him up in the blankets, leaning over to place some of the tea in the metal cups you would bring on expeditions. You placed it beside him, waiting for his shivering to calm down so that he wouldn’t drop the tea all over himself. You pushed hair back from his face, pressing your cheek on his forehead to warm him up as you gently rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs. Once you felt him calm down you handed him the tea which he muttered a small thank you. You kept rubbing his back and made sure to keep him close to you, your body heat transferring to his. After finishing his drink and setting the cup down, you gently placed your hand on his shoulder to lay his head back on your chest which he didn’t complain about. You ran your fingers through his hair, lulling him to sleep. ——————————————————————————.

The night that you had admitted your feelings to Levi, he wasn’t sure how to react. He stared at you with wide eyes for a second before he relaxed his face, looking at you with cold eyes. “I’m sorry but I can’t do that. I don’t think I could give you the love you crave, you wasted your breath telling me that,” he responded, not looking at you. You nodded your head, muttering a small “I understand” before excusing yourself to leave his office.

Levi didn’t mean to be so harsh with you, if anything he would have loved to tell you the truth. The fact that he was so in love with you that it hurt him. The way his heart would pick up its pace when he would see you, the way he would crave your touch when you weren’t around, you had become his other half. His fear of losing you at the time that he admits his feelings held him back though, how could he cope with that?

——————————————————————————

After your confession you tried to be normal, as if his words didn’t matter. You would still bring him his teas and care for him but you barely spoke. He rarely ever saw you in his office unless he had asked you to meet him there.

Erwin had addressed that there would be an expedition soon enough, normally you would be beside Levi in the expeditions after Erwin had noticed how well the two of you worked together. To his surprise, Erwin had ordered your squad to move to the right, straying away from the group. You only nodded your head, commanding your squad before Levi could utter a word.

The expedition went by smoothly, there weren’t any deaths just a few injured soldiers. The squads had began joining together as everyone took a break and tending to the injured soldiers. Levi anxiously looked around, noticing that your squad was no where to be seen. Levi quickly turned his head to the side when he heard the thumping of horses running, recognizing one of your squad members. When he noticed that the cadet was holding your horse, a look of fear on his face and you no where to be seen, Levi thought the worst. He quickly made it to the cadets, glancing around to make sure you weren’t just standing around the group.

“Where’s your captain?” Levi asked, looking at the cadets only to be met with sad looks.

“We���re not sure captain, one of the cadets had fallen and Y/N left to help him. She told us to go on but when I noticed her horse had been following us and she was no where to be seen.” The cadet responded, slightly bowing his head.

Levi felt his heart speed up in fear and shatter, his breath got stuck in his throat as he stared at the ground with wide eyes. Why didn’t he admit his feelings for you sooner? Why did you have to care so much? He became more afraid now knowing that you could be dead without knowing that he truly loved you.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Erwin calling out your name and a few cadets running past him. He quickly looked up to see you walking towards them, you had one of cadets arm wrapped around your shoulders and your arm wrapped around his waist putting all his weight on you. Your head was slightly tilted down but he could see the blood running down your cheek. Your uniform had small tears showing off scratches and cuts on your skin. What didn’t go unnoticed was the deep cut in your thigh which you had wrapped in some cloths as if you were trying to stop the bleeding but the white cloth had turned red. The cadet you were holding was missing an arm, bandaged as well to prevent him from bleeding out. His head was tilted down almost as if he was unconscious and his uniform was shredded in random spots. Eren and Armin quickly took the cadet out of your grip which you weakly nodded at them as a thank you. You were walking slowly, trying to keep yourself from putting all your weight in your leg. The world seemed like it was spinning around you from the injuries and the exhaustion. Levi ran towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders as he looked at you to examine your injuries. You looked at him through half lidded eyes, you gently tapped his hand as if signaling to him you were fine. Levi knew you weren’t but he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you into his chest. You placed your hands on his forearms, letting him hold you for as long as he needed.

“Come on, let’s get you checked,” he mumbled against the side of your head, gently pulling back before wrapping your arm around his shoulders as he lead you to one of the wagons. On the way back to walls, Levi stayed beside you as you slept in the wagon, he would check on you constantly as he tried to keep looking at you as much as he possibly could.

——————————————————————————

Levi hadn’t seen you anywhere ever since you came back from the expedition, he knew you weren’t in the clinic anymore since he went to check and they had told him you left. He asked around the headquarters but everyone claimed that they hadn’t seen you. He knocked on your bedroom and office door but there was no response. He let himself inside your room just to make sure you were ok but he was greeted with an empty bed. He scanned around the room, seeing that your window was open, of course you were on the roof. He climbed out the window, peeking his head up only to see you sitting with your knees against your chest and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You slightly gasp at the sight of him, a small smile in your face when you noticed it was him. He pushed himself up onto the roof, he walked towards you and sat beside you making sure to keep some distance.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, keeping his eyes on you.

You slightly nod, glancing at him before staring up at the sky, “I’m ok, thank you. The bleeding has stopped, my cadet aimed incorrectly and accidentally stabbed my thigh but I don’t blame him.”

Levi nodded in response, leaving the both of you in a comfortable silent for a minute. That was until he broke the silence, “you know, I really thought you wouldn’t make it. I’m not saying that you’re not strong but anything could happen in this world. I was scared that I wasn’t able to see you again and I had time to think about it. I don’t want you to die without knowing the truth and I hope you don’t die anytime soon. I love you Y/N, I truly do and what I said the other night was a mistake. I let my fear of being too emotional and losing you get the best of me but today I learned that I would rather have the pleasure of being with you instead of regretting it and questioning what could have been.” He spoke, loud enough for you to listen as he stared at his shoes.

Your eyes had snapped to look at him, staring at the side of his face as he spoke. Once he finished confessing you stayed silent, mostly because of the shock and the happiness filling you. You let out a giggle, making him look at you with pure confusion written in his face.

“I love you too, Levi.” You responded, opening your blanket for him to join you. He smiled as he scooted closer to you, placing his hand on your waist as he pulled the blanket over himself as well. You laid your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief. Levi pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Does that mean you’re mine?” Levi asked, gently rubbing his thumb on your hip.

You nodded, humming a quiet yes as you looked at him with a bright smile.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi babe! How you doing?

Since winter this year is terrible, snowy and cold I was wondering if you could do those sweet drabbles for our wolves and reader they have huge crush on who spends winter at Kaer Morhen and sneaks into their room and bed searching for warmth in the middle of the night?

A/N: Hi babe! I hope you like this :)

***

Lambert

You moved through one of the many corridors within Kaer Morhen, clutching the blanket that acted as a cloak around your shoulders. 

The corridor was dark with the exception of torches that were lit every few dozen feet along the stone wall. They were strategically placed outside of every room. 

Though most of the rooms on the floor were empty, you were still careful to be as quiet as possible. You knew how sensitive a witcher’s hearing was and you didn’t want to be the reason one of them was woken up. 

You came to a stop outside of the last room on the left. The door was shut, though you expected it to be. The young wolf inside was probably sleeping. Anyone in their right mind would be sleeping at three in the morning. 

You knocked twice on the door, frowning at how loud the sound was. It seemed to echo down the corridor, bouncing off of the stone walls. 

I hope Eskel doesn’t hear that.

There was no response from the witcher inside of the room, so you tried again, this time adding his name to the knock. 

“Lambert? Lambert, are you awake?”

A rustling noise could faintly be heard from beyond the thick wooden door. It was pulled open with a loud creak. 

Lambert stood there in nothing but a pair of trousers that hung low- perhaps too low -on his hips. Your eyes flickered over his chest, over the scars and hair that sparsely covered his muscular torso. 

“The hell are you doing up so late, bug?” He asked, voice groggy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face. He didn’t notice you staring as he was still trying to force his eyes to open up. 

“I-I just- I’m sorry to-to um-,” You suddenly regretted deciding to leave your bed. Embarrassment settled into the pit of your stomach. “It’s just…. The-The fire in my room, it went out some time ago. There was a gust of wind and I don’t really know what happened. I tried to layer up with what I had but it didn’t work. It’s too cold.”

You rubbed your hands together. Whether it was from the cold or from nervousness, you weren’t sure. 

Lambert looked down at you, brows furrowed together.

“So your room’s too cold to sleep in tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry to bother you. I-I didn’t want to wake you up. If you could just maybe help me start the fire-,”

“I don’t want to walk all the way down there right now.” He cut you off. His answer made your stomach drop, but then he continued. “Come in here. You can stay with me for the night.”

“Oh, Lambert. I-I couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah you can.” He stepped aside and gestured for you to enter his room.

Even from out in the hall you could feel the heat coming from his room. How could you say no?

You stepped into his room, eyes flickering around, curiously taking in what you could see. 

With the light coming from the fireplace, you could only make out a few notable features of his room. The first was an easel set up in the far corner. The next was a stack of books next to the foot of his bed. 

Lambert didn’t give you enough time to examine his room any further. 

“You can get into the, uh, the bed.” He said, still lingering by the door. It was shut but he stayed near it for whatever reason. “If it would make you more comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Lambert, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Floor in front of the fire is nice. And I don’t…. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pull anything on ya if we share a bed.”

Your eyes immediately left his and instead found a space on the floor between the both of you. 

“I-I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t think that.” You murmured quietly, offering a small smile to him. “You’re a kind man, Lambert.”

“I’ve been called many things, bug, but kind ain’t one of them.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You can get comfortable first. I’ll get in after you.”

You nodded your head, pulling the throw blanket off of your shoulders and laying it across the foot of the bed. 

Lambert pretended not to watch you as climbed into the bed and got comfortable on one side. He said nothing when the side you chose to get comfortable on was the side he preferred. 

“Okay.” You spoke quietly from underneath the thick pile of blankets. “Do you always sleep with this many blankets?”

“Yeah.” He got into bed next to you. “I’m always cold, especially here during the winter. It gets cold as fuck.”

You nodded, shifting around a little on the bed. You rubbed your feet together, trying to get the warmth to spread to your toes. 

“Are you okay over there?”

“Just…. Just trying to get warm. It’ll take me a minute but I’m okay.”

“Here.”

You weren’t too sure what he was doing as your back was to him, but suddenly you could feel him against you. His body gave off an incredible amount of body heat that had you pressing back into him without even realizing it. 

“This okay, bug?” He asked, his warmth breath tickling your ear. 

“Yeah.” You giggled softly. “Thank you, Lambert.”

“Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death. Then I’d lose my kind guy badge you just gave me.”

Eskel

You knocked on the door to Eskel’s room, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to create some sort of heat but it was really no use. You were chilled straight to the bone. 

Your room was freezing cold and no matter how many blankets or how many layers you put on, you couldn’t seem to get warm. 

The door to Eskel’s room opened quietly. He appeared, hair messily tied back with a few strands falling around his face. The tunic he wore was unlaced and revealed a good portion of his chest where the top created a V. 

“Y/N, it’s early.” He looked over his shoulder to the window to confirm his own words. It was still pitch black outside. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.” You frowned. “It’s freezing cold in my room. Do you think it would be okay if I stayed with you for the night?”

He looked at you for a few moments, lips parting but no words coming out. 

Your heart began to beat faster with anxiousness. You didn’t want to overstep and you didn’t want to scare him away. The two of you had been flirting lightly here and there over the winter and you didn’t want to ruin that. 

“If you’d rather not, Eskel, it’s no big deal. I can go bother Ciri-,”

“No, that-that isn’t necessary.” He cut you off. “Please, come in.” 

You held his gaze as you passed him, a smile on your lips. 

Your eyes flickered around the room, landing on his bed. It was neatly made as if he had never even tried to go to sleep. At the foot of the bed was a book. It was open with the pages down on the bed. 

“It doesn’t look like you were sleeping.”

“I-I wasn’t.” He admitted sheepishly. Eskel closed the door and moved into the room. “I was reading.”

“Would you read to me?” You asked him, picking up the throw that was laying across the foot of the bed. 

“If you’d like. You can get under the blankets if you want, Y/N.”

“This will do just fine right now. Your room is rather warm. It’s quite pleasant.”

He sat down on one side of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. You sat next to him, leaning against him. He was hesitant to put his arm around you, but as he did you seemed to melt right into his side. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked quietly, looking down at you.

“Very. Thank you, Eskel.” You smiled. 

Geralt

You pulled the brush through your hair, letting out a heavy breath. 

“You look like something is on your mind.”

Your eyes flickered over to Jaskier. He was stretched out across your head reading a book while you did your hair for the night. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re staring at yourself in that mirror.” Jaskier sat up, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “You usually aren’t that narcissistic, so something must be up. What is it, darling?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, putting the hairbrush down so you could braid your hair. 

“Is it Geralt?”

“Jaskier.”

“I only suggest it was him because earlier this evening when we had dinner, you practically refused to look at him. I thought the both of you were…. rather fond of one another.”

“I thought so too. But I suppose since I am no longer the only one here he can bed, I serve no purpose to him anymore.”

“Y/N, you know you mean more to Geralt than a simple fuck.”

“He sure hasn’t made it seem that way since Yennefer arrive. Though I don’t blame him. She’s is a beauty.”

“She is, but all evil things are beautiful.”

“She’s not evil, Jaskier.” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“You didn’t see her and the Djinn.”

You finished your hair and stood up from the vanity, moving towards the bed. 

“He hasn’t paid me a second glance since she’s come. I only feel stupid for thinking that he no longer felt anything for her.”

“You know that isn’t how their…. predicament works, Y/N. You know he has no control over his feelings for her.”

You stayed quiet. Jaskier watched you for a few moments, wishing there was something he could do to help you feel better.

“I’d like to go to bed now, Jakier.” You told him.

“Okay, darling. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Jaskier.”

***

A few hours later, you were still awake. Not only were you unable to sleep, but there was a draft in your room that made you cold. 

After laying there for a while tossing and turning, you decided to read. You turned the page just as someone knocked on the door to your room. 

“Who is it?”

“Me.” Geralt’s deep voice came from the other side of the door 

“I’m in no mood for talking, Geralt. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

“The only way you can hear my teeth is if you’ve been lingering outside my door.” You sat up, eyes focusing on the door.

You heard the witcher let out a heavy sigh. 

“Can I please come in, Y/N?”

“You may open the door.” You adjusted the shoulder of your chemise and pulled the blankets up to cover your chest. 

Geralt opened the door and stepped inside. Golden eyes flickered around the room, searching for something. 

“Did you leave a window open?”

“No. My room sometimes gets cold during the winter months. That’s why I tend to stay with Jaskier.”

Geralt nodded. His eyes fell on you. 

You shifted around a little on the bed. 

“Well? Did you have something you wanted to say or did you just come in here to look at me while I’m in my nightclothes?” You raised your brows at him. 

Geralt cleared his throat, eyes darting down to the floor for a moment before lifting to meet yours. 

“I-I don’t…. I’ve noticed that for the last couple of days you and I….” He trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to word what was going through his head. “You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

“Like the plague, yes.” You stated matter-of-factly. You looked down to the blanket and smoothed out the material. “I don’t wish to step on anyone’s toes. This keep may be big, but it isn’t big enough to last the entire winter feuding with the few who are here.”

Geralt furrowed his brows at you. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Now if you’ll please excuse me, Geralt. I’d like to try to sleep tonight.”

Geralt locked his jaw, frustrated. 

“You’ll freeze if you stay here for the night.”

“Then so be it.” You stubbornly laid down in bed and brought the blankets up over your shoulder.

“Can I….” He grunted. “Can I stay with you for the night? At least to keep you warm?”

You swore your heart skipped a beat. You wanted to tell him no and to even start raising your voice at him. But you were far too cold and too tired to fight. 

“I suppose.”

Geralt moved across the room and kicked his boots off. He pulled the blankets back and climbed underneath them. 

“Won’t Yennefer be upset that you’re underneath the same blankets as me?” You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“She doesn’t care what I do. I am my own person. I’m an adult. I don’t have to ask for her permission to do anything.”

“But…. aren’t you two….?” You didn’t finish your sentence. 

One of Geralt’s arms slipped around your torso. He pulled you back into him. 

You could almost immediately feel his body heat coming through both of your clothes. 

“No, we aren’t.” His answer was soft. His breath was warm against your neck. “Is that what’s gotten you so upset with me?”

You said nothing, allowing yourself to sink back against him. 

His hand that rested on your stomach began to trace circles there. 

“Please understand that it’s a spell. Whatever I do feel towards her, it was forged in a last wish I made years ago.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that when we are all in the same room and you forget that I exist.” You murmured.

A breath left his lips. 

“I am sorry, dove.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “I’m looking into ways to get rid of the spell. I don’t want it getting in the way of any real…. Any real feelings I may have for anyone else.”

His words made something in your chest flutter. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

“Good night, dove.”

“Good night, Geralt.”

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If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

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[wallwriterstuff]

Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!human!fem!reader where she’s Bella’s younger sister, and when the Volturi come for Renesmee, the Cullens tell her to stay with Charlie, since they had a bunch of vampires with them plus the Volturi showing up, it’d be bad with a human in the mix. Being related to Bella (haha) she doesn’t listen, choosing to hide behind a tree to try to see how Bella and her family are (she was worried what the Volturi would do). I’m sure everyone would realize there’s a human there, and Aro sends Demetri to check it out, who finds Y/n, and quickly realizes she’s his mate. Ooo that would be nerve racking to Bella because she’d see Dem speed her younger sister over to where all the Volturi are. I’m sure she’d have to go back to Volterra with them, and she’d be a little freaked out. Awhhh it’d be so cute to see them bond, and on New Year’s, she wants to watch the ball drop (because it’s a tradition), and when it’s the New Year, she kisses Dem for the first time!

Little Red Riding Hood Part 1 ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 2: The Big Bad Wolf 

Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have 

Part 4: And They Lived Happily Ever After 

Warnings: None, just Aro being a manipulative little meanie 

Words: 4793

Summary: Against her sister’s advice, Y/N Swan sets off on a one woman mission to protect her family, unaware of the price she will have to pay to do so. 

One of the worst habits you had was wondering the house late at night when you shouldn’t be. It wasn’t your fault really, insomnia didn’t have an easy cure and your sleeping medication was…well, when you woke up in the morning you felt drunk, they weren’t really something you enjoyed using. It had been an innocent quest really, a simple mission – get a warm mug of milk to go back to bed with. If anything, you were perfectly in the right to go wandering your own home. It should have been safe, even at 3:24AM.

Riley Biers shouldn’t have been there.

But he was.

In your living room.

And so were you.

Until you weren’t.

Alice had seen it all in advance of course and whisked you out of that room so fast the venom hadn’t even had time to properly enter your system after Riley bit down. Charlie hadn’t even been woken from his slumber by the time you were whisked into the depths of the forest to a nice little clearing where you could scream to your hearts content and nobody would hear you. Carlisle had saved you that night, sucking the venom out as quickly as Riley had injected it. The night that had followed was a surreal, whistle stop tour of the vampire world and its laws, laws you were technically breaking since you knew about the Cullen’s now. Of course, that meant you knew about the newborn army to, but you decided to stay out of that one. Some things however…some things demanded your attention, and whether you were human or not you simply had to at least see your family would be okay.

After a whirlwind few months your sister was saved, married and knocked up. Come Christmas, your hybrid niece was looking to be nine years old and your father was suspicious but none the wiser to the world you knew all too much about. You had carefully hidden your bitemark with polo necks, a sudden and bizarre choice your father had commented on once but quickly dismissed after you spouted some fashion facts Alice had prepared you with – fashion and Charlie did not mix and he dropped that conversation faster than one might drop a saucepan on fire. Of course, Renesmee (who you had created a variety of nicknames for just to tease Bella because otherwise you…well you’d have to call her Renesmee, and that was just cruel) was unique in every way, and unique and unknown equated to threat and danger in many minds, many minds the Cullen’s had slowly swayed over the few weeks since Alice had informed them of their impending death sentence.

You hadn’t been allowed to visit since the nomads and covens had started arriving, and though you understood the reason it didn’t make it any easier to know your sister, your niece, your extended family, were all in danger and you weren’t getting to spend what might be their last moments with them. It was only made worse when Bella and Edward had brought your father tickets to go fishing out of state, and tried to do the same to you. You loved your TV shows, truly you did, so for them to somehow get you backstage passes for Supernatural of all things was…immense. What you hated the most was how tempted you were to go. Who would say no to a long stay in a five star hotel, all expenses paid for and any bills you accumulated paid for by a Cullen, bottomless credit card?

When Edward and Bella had dropped you at the airport, part of you really had been ready to say goodbye to them, but as you stood in line for the gate the heavy weight of guilt settled in your gut and wouldn’t stop squirming. You had to turn back, you had to go. Nobody knew when the Volturi were going to land exactly, but you knew the day, and with Charlie and Sue gone for their fishing trip you would have nobody to stop you doing the incredibly dumb thing you had set your heart on. The taxi fare home had been extortionate but you couldn’t exactly have called anyone for a lift could you? You called the hotel and told them you were cancelling your stay, having to push your backstage pass for the Supernatural set deep into the depths of your bag to manage the grief of missing that opportunity, but family came first.

A restless night’s sleep later and you were dressing for the snow. It had fell fast and thick since Christmas day, so you had to set out early if you were going to get anywhere fast. Bella was your sister and you loved one another dearly, so of course you had spoken all about the upcoming battle, her hopes and her fears, her plans.

“There’s a clearing to the North of the house, we’re hoping if we engage them there it’ll be far enough away from people to stop anyone else getting involved by accident.”

Clearing to the North of the Cullen residence, right. With your Grandfather’s old compass you had set out, bundled in your thickest woollen coat and decked out the whole nine yards with scarves and hats and gloves. The air was freezing, nipping harshly at your exposed skin till your ears and nose were tinged red. Sniffling, you trudged through the layers of snow, stumbling over your own feet once or twice in the hereditary Swan way before regaining your footing and ploughing on. The trees seemed never-ending, an identical blanket of white on each and every one that towered above you, encroaching from all sides and making you lose all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the compass in your hand you could have easily gotten lost in the winter wonderland, but a break in the treeline finally made an appearance. Numb as your extremities were, you forced your tired body to cooperate and propelled yourself forward, stumbling towards a tree you might be able to see past.

The forest was eerily silent, not a single scuttling animal or twittering bird to be found today, and the clearing itself was so large and the covens spread so far apart you could barely see a thing either, not with your dull, human eyes. A swarm of black gave away the Volturi, the mismatch of beiges and neutral tones on the left letting you know your family had yet to be taken down. A sigh of relief escaped you and you clapped a hand over your mouth in alarm, heart skipping a beat in your chest. Vampires had extremely sensitive hearing, there was no way somebody hadn’t heard you, and if it wasn’t the sigh that gave you away then it would surely have been the sound of mitten slapping flesh. Pressing into the bark you peeked around the tree trunk, heart hammering in your chest now as you tried to establish what was happening. You couldn’t hear a thing, could barely see. Ness sat atop Jacob, his russet fur glinting in the bright white of the snow-covered landscape.

“It all looks so terribly interesting from this distance does it not?” the smooth voice was right by your ear, and you screamed louder than you ever had in your life. Whirling around you shrunk back from the vibrantly red eyes of an admittedly handsome man, his expression devoid of any emotion as he looked you over. He had boxed you in against the tree trunk, his cloak billowing about him, the shiny, golden ‘V’ hanging around his throat making your chest constrict. Volturi, he was a Volturi guard. With wide eyes you stood in a silent stare-off, unable to decipher the emotions flickering through his eyes as he stood a step toward you.

“Stay away from me!” you cried, cringing back into the bark behind you. His head tilted.

“You came to spy and did not expect there would be consequences?” he asked, not stopping till he was almost on top of you. Your breath hitched. He had the most gorgeous looking face but you could identify the features of a killer in it. The glowing red irises didn’t look at you with malice however, more…confusion. His sharp, pearl white teeth weren’t bared to take your throat out but carefully sealed away behind plush lips. You could almost believe he didn’t intend on hurting you if his hands weren’t still reaching for you.

“You’re here to butcher my family, I had to…” you trailed off, because in reality what could you do? What could you possible say to this vampire that wouldn’t make him laugh? You were human, you stood no chance. He had paused, waiting patiently for your answer, yet when you gave him none he proceeded to pick you up like you weighed next to nothing, your feet being whisked out of the numbing snow to dangle over his arm. His eyes never left yours.

“Hold tight little one.” He suggested, his voice devoid of any emotion. If there had been any part of him you might have been able to appeal to before it was gone now, hidden behind a stony exterior. The world blurred around you and the jarring movement thew you off balance as he set you on your feet again, your body tilting in a way it shouldn’t till he was forced to grab you and hold you steady. Nausea rose quickly in the back of your throat, the world still spinning and blurring your eyes. You could see the edges of black cloaks swirling in your vision as you fought back the urge to be sick. There was no way to hide your anxiety now, your heart hammering away for all to hear, your breathing too quick to be normal.

“You seem to have distressed our dear friends, Demetri.” The smooth voice was sickeningly sweet, entirely false to your ears. Trying to take a steadying breath, you forced yourself to look up at the three imposing figures before you. A giant stood behind them, two young twins to their right. The three were quite obvious to you form the stories you’d heard, and your shudder had nothing to do with the cold this time. Demetri, the man holding you, had yet to let go of your waist, and his hands felt strangely soothing, their firm grip something that felt grounding and reliable despite your terror in this moment.

“An intruder who has already seen too much, end her now as yet another of the Cullen’s mistakes.” The blonde sneered. You swallowed, mind spinning. You were dead either way, right?

“My niece is not a mistake.” You retorted. You were proud that your voice didn’t waver once, though the grip on your waist tightened slightly and you weren’t sure if it was to warn you or scold you. Caius hissed, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare.

“Your niece? May I, my dear?” Aro stood before you, taller than you had expected with hair almost as long as yours. You knew it wasn’t a request, but you found yourself desperate either way to avoid touching him and shrank back from his extended hand, straight into Demetri’s chest. His hand was hesitant, but it lifted from your waist to lightly skim down your arm, his lips close to your hairline as he whispered, “Do as you are told now, little one.”

He carefully extended your hand for you, noting the tremor in it once more as Aro’s eyes flickered between you. He removed your mitten with a flourish, your hand immediately clenching and unclenching at the sudden blast of arctic cold it had previously been shrouded from. Aro’s skin was somehow even colder and your shivering grew in intensity. Very vaguely, you could hear Bella shouting something, but the distance was so great and the clearing so vast it swallowed the sound. His eyes flickered over yours, completely pinning you to the spot, and then they looked past you to whatever was happening behind you. Demetri was blocking your view when you tried to see what Aro was seeing.

“Sweet Y/N, your bravery in coming here is applaudable. I can only hope our own dear ones are as dedicated to our family as you are to yours.” Aro sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice. You flinched, knowing the next words from his mouth would most likely be spelling out your death sentence. The sound of the breeze was all that filled your ears for a moment, the anxiety and anticipation growing in your stomach making it difficult to hold onto the meagre breakfast you’d forced yourself to eat. It occurred to you in that moment that this would be your final moments with your family, your last chance to say goodbye, and they could hear it. Squaring your shoulders, you held your head high.

“I came because I love them, and I don’t regret that. You can’t destroy my family, their witnesses are proof of that. My niece was created out of love and the legacy of love they would leave behind will be far too great for you to overcome. So go ahead and do what you have to to me, if I can die with half their grace then I know I’ve done them proud.” You clenched your fists at your side, prepared for the bite that Aro would deliver, maybe Demetri. Caius looked most upset by your little speech, hissing quietly and looking prepared to spring towards you. More muffled noise from behind you let you know your family had heard, even if you couldn’t hear their goodbyes you felt them in your heart.

Aro’s head tilted slightly, his expression cold, and then his mouth opened slightly and he was leaning forward. You closed your eyes, flinching as you braced for the pain of a bite you knew well, but instead you felt cold air, and when your eyes snapped open you were shielded from Aro’s bite by a tall, lean body, one strong arm curled backward to keep you caged against his spine. Demetri.

“Master…please.” He extended his hand, ripping off his glove with his teeth as he went. Aro eagerly took his hand, probably as desperate as you were to know why one of his most treasured guard would so openly defy him. Some of the Volturi’s people were starting to whisper behind them but a lethal look (from the giant of a man you guessed was Felix from Bella’s stories) silenced them. His grip on your hip tightened for a moment, the silence deafening before Aro chuckled.

“Ahhh…così si forma un legame eterno.” he murmured. You scrunched your nose, having no idea what he meant since you didn’t speak Italian. When Demetri carefully moved aside, giving Aro as slim a chance to access you as he possibly could, and your heart twisted with gratitude that he would even bother to try. You swallowed, doing your best to keep your fear from your face.

“Aro.” Caius growled. Aro held his hand up, forcing his brother to heel even if he couldn’t placate him.

“You are intriguing, Y/N. The Volturi do not offer second chances, but for the sake of our dear Demetri we are willing to bend the rules just this once,” Aro smiled, a shark-like grin that made your stomach sink, “You have a choice before you. Your family are quite innocent in regards to the accusation against your niece, for that we will deliver no justice-“ there was some uncomfortable shuffling behind him Aro dutifully ignored, “-however you are a law broken, yet another example of the Cullen’s inability to guard our secret from humans. An example must be made, you must be dealt with appropriately. Either you turn here, now, or you come with us, and we turn you.”

It was a Hobson’s choice. What Aro was really asking was how dead did you want to be? Dead dead? Or undead dead? If you let Carlisle bite you now in the clearing there were so many unpredictable nomads around. Bite your wrist and it would take forever for the venom to reach your heart and really start the change, you would be tortured right in front of them, a punishment for them all no doubt. Bite your throat and blood would spill, blood so many of those nomads wouldn’t think twice about feeding from in any other situation. So, what did you do? Did you choose the option where you ended up far from home but safe? Or did you choose the option that did not guarantee your safety but did guarantee your family would suffer watching you suffer?

For the first time since you entered the snow you felt warm, warm with so many eyes on you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to will your mind to work faster to outwit the vampire before you. In the end, you could only think of a compromise.

“My father’s not home right now. If I chose to come with you, could I have time to pack some clothes?” your voice was slightly weak, your heart aching in your chest. Your father would never see you again, he’d have to believe you just ran off, that you were the same flighty woman your mother was. Bella might never get a chance to see you again either, an eternity of knowing you would never lose your sister, but that you would never be reunited. It was painful however you spun it. Aro’s smile only widened, knowing he had successfully backed you into a corner.

“But of course! Such a…noble, sacrifice, must be rewarded. You have earned that much my dear. Demetri will take you now.” Aro gave his tracker a nod and Demetri seemed to relax, swiftly turning on his heel to march you across the snow. His hand was gentle on your arm, but the speed he set almost had you running to keep up, like he was desperate to get you out of there lest Aro change his mind. As you were escorted out of the clearing, you dared a single glance back at Bella, her face the very picture of horror as Edward held her back. All you could manage was a weak smile as your sister disappeared from view for what was possible the last time.

Once you were far enough into the trees that the clearing was out of sight for you, Demetri suddenly came to a stop, exhaling sharply and dropping his hand from your arm. It ran through his hair but barely ruffled it. Whatever he was thinking, you weren’t about to be privy to it as he slung you across his back with ease. You gasped, clinging on tight.

“Hey! What are you doing!” you protested.

“Taking you to your home. You are slower than I am.” He retorted, his voice quiet and his grip on your thighs firm. You held on tight, heart rabbiting in your chest.

“You don’t even know where I live.” You squeaked. Demetri chuckled, the sound vibrating through your gut.

“No, but I know where the Cullen’s live, and I find it hard to believe that in all this snow you walked all the way here. Now hold on tight and try closing your eyes, it may help with the nausea, cara mia.” He gave you seconds at most to bury your face in his shoulder before he took off, maybe…or not? You weren’t really sure but you didn’t dare lift your head to look. He made sure his gait was smooth, every stride flawless so he didn’t so much as jostle you, and by the time he gently encouraged you to unwind your legs from his waist you were in front of the Cullen’s house. The only reminder you had ever ran anywhere with him at all was the windswept state of your hair – it was unfair his still looked perfect.

He had been right of course, you had driven to the Cullen’s today. It was hard to imagine him sitting beside you in your small car, his cloak about him and his outfit all…well, what even was he wearing? Why did that even matter when this Volturi guard was escorting you to pack things that would be your only reminder of home? Demetri was quiet, watching you carefully as you stared at your car. Nothing made sense. Why had Demetri saved you when he was the one who hauled you out in front of Aro? Why had it felt like he was protecting you? Why was everything so…comfortable? Being around him was like being in the company of an old friend, it was familiar and warm, inviting, the silences felt natural.

Demetri quietly called your name, his expression questioning, but you didn’t bother to give him an explanation, simply pulled out your car keys and got into the driver’s seat. The radio chased away the silence, your fingers clenched tight around the wheel as you tried to figure out what to pack.

“Where are we going?” you asked him finally. Demetri kept his eyes on the horizon.

“To our home, to Volterra. You will be joining us in Italy.” He answered. Italy? You didn’t know the first thing about Italian culture. What was the food like? The people? The language? You’d need to pack warmer clothes, and they didn’t accommodate turtle-necks – not that you needed to hide a bite from vampires. It wasn’t really until you pulled up in the driveway of your home that it really struck you, the weight of the deal you made hanging heavy on your shoulders as you idled in front of your childhood home. In your mind you could see yourself running up the drive, your suitcase abandoned for your father to pick up as he welcomed you to stay for the summer. Other winters where you had opted to spend Christmas with Charlie over Renée flashed through your mind next, dilapidated snowmen and strung up lights over the porch flashing bright. Tears stung your eyes.

“I’m never coming back here, am I?” you whispered. Demetri remained silent, and you were grateful for it. There was nothing he could say to make this better and you suspected he knew that. Furiously wiping at your eyes, you rummaged for your house keys and cleared your throat. “You should wait until I open the front door, it’ll look suspicious if you follow me in and any of the neighbours see.” You muttered, already climbing out of the car before he could argue. It was a slow walk up the drive, a walk where you desperately tried to imprint the bumps in the concrete, the muddy smells of the forest surrounding you, and the awful netting in the windows’ you father hadn’t changed since your mother moved on, into your memory.

The smell of stale beer from the cans in the recycling box beneath the sink hit your nose as the door opened, the familiar smells of Charlie’s aftershave and Sue’s perfume coming next. The house was cold, quiet, desolate even. Demetri was in front of you in the blink of an eye as you shut the door behind you, nobody would have seen him enter for sure. He glanced around himself, obviously curious at the choice in décor and the photographs along the walls – you couldn’t bear to look at them. With a soft sigh, you left him in the living room, knowing he would do what he liked anyway regardless as to whether or not you invited him upstairs.

The suitcase you had packed for your trip would need to be unpacked, some of your jumpers and long-sleeved shirts would not be needed in Italy after all. It would be hot, and heat was not a friend to wool. Your wardrobe doors flung open, you were contemplating what to put back when Demetri interrupted you.

“Vampires do not feel temperature the same way humans do. When you turn it will be no issue to wear jumpers, if they are what you prefer.” He said. Brows crinkling, you subconsciously lifted a hand to your throat.

“It’s not really a fashion choice,” you murmured, “But I guess I don’t need to really hide a bitemark from a bunch of vampires, do I?” Just like that the air changed; you no longer felt comfortable with Demetri, not when he was giving off such a sour energy. He radiated danger, anger. He took a breath to visibly compose himself, but his eyes were still darkened by anger, near black with the rage he radiated. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he clenched and unclenched his fists. You took a step back from him, biting down on your lower lip as your heart skittered.

“Show me,” he said, eyes blazing. You shook your head. “Show me.” He growled, stepping forward this time. Gulping, you reached up with a shaky hand to pull the turtle-neck down as far as you could, thankful the material stretched slightly. Demetri peered past the fabric to the silver crescent shapes of Riley’s teeth, emblazoned on your skin until Volturi venom decided to buff out that imperfection. He hissed quietly, his fingertips tracing the mark and sending shivers down your spine. He was freezing cold, cold as a corpse actually since that was technically what he was, so why did his fingers leave a blazing trail of fire across your skin?

“It’s just small, it’ll go away anyway if-“

“It will not, go away.” Demetri ground out, his eyes fixated on the scar. He looked genuinely disgusted and you couldn’t tell if it was at you or the bitemark, you couldn’t tell quite why it bothered you so much either. Why did you care so much that this upset Demetri?

“It won’t?” you asked weakly. He winced a bit, letting his hands drop and looking away. You counted ten whole seconds before he dared turn back to you.

“No, it will not. Venom is what will immortalise you, petrify your system, it has had a chance to do so to those cells it has touched already and they will be forever changed by it. My only hope is to bite down there, that by breaking the surface with my teeth it heals over with my venom.” He almost growled the word at you in his frustration and you swallowed, blinking in surprise.

“You’re going to be the one that turns me?” you questioned. Could he even do that? Did he have the self-control? You had thought Aro would do it if you were honest, though you couldn’t say you were over the moon to have that old coot’s teeth in your throat it was guaranteed to at least be safe. What right did Demetri have to steal your life? Why was he so angry over the thought of another vampire biting you? Had he claimed some weird sort of vampire dibs?

“Of course. The Volturi have laws they enforce but when it comes to affairs between mates, they leave well enough alone.” He informed you, head tilting. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Mates?” you whispered, mind reeling.

“You do not feel the pull?” he asked. He had yet to step back from you, unbearably close and yet somehow not close enough. For a moment you couldn’t say anything, simply trying to desperately scramble to think coherently enough to consider answering.

“I don’t…I barely know you, you can’t just…say that.” You stammered. Demetri very gently grasped your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upward so you were forced to maintain eye contact with him. You weren’t sure what he was searching for, if he found it or not, but he dropped your chin with a sigh.

“Pack, tesoro, we have little time.” He murmured. You were relieved when he stepped back – it gave you a chance to breathe.  Mate? Demetri thought you were his mate? You knew what that meant, Edward had explained to you what his connection with Bella was like after Riley had introduced you to his world, trying to help you understand how awful the months leading up to Bella’s running away to Italy had been for both of them. Is that why he had been so protective of you on the field? Is that why he was so furious another vampire had dared mark you? It crossed your mind then just how selfish your decision actually looked to the outside world. In your head, you had been saving your family from suffering, but to them it probably looked like you had chosen to run off with your mate because you didn’t trust they would take care of you. How were they ever going to forgive you for this?

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Eustass Kid | Sorrow

Pairing: Eustass Kid x female reader

Notes: Mentions of death, and injuries.

Word Count: 2k

Killer was the first to hear the dreadful news, he was making his way down the street to the local bar where he was to meet back up with Kid. He heard a hushed conversation between two gentlemen and at first, he thought it was just another made up rumor. There’s simply no way that the Raven Pirates were dead. Their captain, (Y/n), is apart of the Worst Generation and has proven many times over, that she’s worthy of that title not only to the government but especially to Eustass and his crew.

It wasn’t until one of the men spoke about a fight that involved two Admirals that made the Killer’s blood run cold. He remained hidden and waited for any possible truth in the conversation. The names Aokiji and Kizaru came up a few times and that was enough for Killer to grab both men and drag them to his Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach he knew that something happened. If any part of the rumor turns out to be true, his captain is going to want blood and so will the rest of the crew. One simply doesn’t harm Kid’s beloved. 

The Kid Pirates soon found themselves sailing off to a winter island in the New World. Kid and Killer were able to get more information from the two men at the market before Kid destroyed the town in a furious rage. There was suspicion about an informant that tipped off the location of the Raven’s to the Government. A fight had already broken out between Pirates and Marines before the Admirals made it to the island. It was an easy win for the pirates until the Admirals showed. They don’t have the details, but the fight took a gruesome turn and many pirates lost their lives. No report has been made yet by the Government, at least not publicly. Which in turn means no record of who’s alive or dead.

Kid always said that he would be the one to kill them someday. (Y/n), the captain, got under his skin like no other. They both live bold and fearless lives and often they came into contact on the seas as enemies. That was before the incident with the Red Hair Pirates. 

It was (Y/n) who managed to keep Kid alive after losing his arm. She allowed him and his crew to recover on a winter island that the Raven’s use as a second home. It was then the relationship between the two captains began to shift. She would often check on the man, get him anything he needed, and most importantly, told him not to stop chasing after what he wants most.

It became evident that previous and new threats held no real weight to them. They still fought like cats and dogs, but it was different. The crewmates on either side saw what was forming between them and knew it was going to be a long road ahead before either side could truly rest. It turned into a long and agonizing game of who would fall victim to their feelings first. 

Ultimately (Y/n) was the first to fall, she grew tired of all the pent-up emotions and grabbed Kid by his signature coat and pulled him down to her height and kissed him. It stroked Kid’s ever-growing ego that he did not give in first and he paraded around the island as if he found the One Piece for weeks. With the warm memory in thought, he breaths a heavy sigh as he watches the passing sea. “You’re fine… you have to be.”

Starring out at the vast number of graves of the fallen crewmember, (Y/n) stood in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s been a total of three days since the lost of her crew. All but two members perished by the hands of the Admirals. It took two days to make it to their island and another to bury and lay them to rest, but she promised them she’d bring them back home.  “Please Captain (Y/n.) You need to warm up and rest. It won’t do you any good if you freeze to death out there” the voice yelled across the field of snow. Instantly whipping her head around, glaring at the last remaining crewmate.  

The words “freeze to death” played over and over in the captain’s head. That’s exactly what Aokiji did. He froze them to death while Kizaru pinned (Y/n) to the ground and made her watch as the other shattered her crewmates into pieces. Tears roll down her redden checks as she looks over at the graves for the last time tonight and whispers a “goodnight.” 

(Y/n) makes the slow tread back towards the warmth of the building. The injuries and cold catching up to her. “Sorry about the choice of words Captain, you need to rest. You’re heavily injured and you shouldn’t be out in that storm in your condition.” Avisa, the youngest and newest member of the crew being only eighteen, covers her captain with her own coat and holds the door open. Avisa was incredibly lucky to be mostly unharmed after what they went through. “We should probably change your bandages and disinfect them again… has your eyesight changed?”

(Y/n) groans from shifting the coat open and revealing the endless bandages wrapped around her body. “It’s… it’s as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid. I lost about half the sight in my left eye.” The young girl shifts around, grabbing more bandages and disinfectant before settling in front of the captain and unpeeling the dirty bandages from the wounds earning a whimper of pain.

“Wait, before you start with the disinfecting, I could use a drink.” 

“Sure thing Captain, I’ll go fetch you some water.” Just as the girl began to move a loud boisterous laughter bounces around the walls of the otherwise quiet room. The two women jump from their seated positions at the voice of a man. “She means booze girlie” the voice snickers. (Y/n) pushes the girl behind her and does her best to seem threating but it’s proving to be hard in her state. This nearly makes the man laugh again but he gets a glance at the wounds scattered across her body. 

The outside lighting does little to show who’s at the door and it wasn’t until the man spoke again that (Y/n) recognized who was there. “Take it easy doll” Kid spoke, hand in the air stepping inside. “Kid” her voice wavers. Taking a few steps towards him but stops and clutches her side in pain. His smile falters as he crosses the room to grab her and keep her upright. 

He’s familiar with the layout and takes her to a bed in the closest bedroom. “Sit before you bleed all over the floor.” He walks out the room to motions for the rest of his crew to come inside. Killer follows his captain back into the bedroom to inspect (Y/n’s) wounds. Avisa, with a bottle of opened booze sitting on the table, had already unwrapped her wounds and had proceeded to disinfect her wounds.

There’s deep bruising along her ribs on the right, followed by three holes no doubt left by Kizaru, scatter over her torso. The worse being on her left shoulder. Kid grabs the bottle on the table and takes a generous swing before offering her more. “I did my best to stitch the wounds with what we had, I’m pretty sure her ribs are broken. She was…” the young girl had to stop keep herself from crying. Killer, as gentle as he could muster, touched the swollen and bruised area earning a sharp intake of air followed by a cry of pain. 

“I’d say three are broken and the rest are just bruised. What did you use for stitches? I see a few places that need to be touched up.” The masked man turns away from (Y/n) to talk to Avisa. “Horsehair. There’s a small ranch not too far from here.” He nods in thought, “we’re going to need more.” The pair leave the room to go retrieve more supplies and to fill in the rest of Kid’s crew on her condition.

Kid looks around for something to cover her body and he spots (Y/n’s) coat, or rather what’s left of it. It was a beautiful thick, long coat, jet black in color, and made of raven feathers, now it’s barely recognizable. It’s a lot smaller in length now from being ripped. More feathers decorate the floor than the actual fabric. It also mirrors the holes littered in (Y/n). It was a gift to her from him. “Say something please.” 

Kid looks over with an unreadable expression and shrugs off his coat and walks over. His hand traces over the new scars and wounds that littered across her. He pays extra care to the open wounds before his amber eyes meet hers. He brushes the hair out of her face to get a better look. Half of her left eye is clouded over with a faint scar to go with it. He knows now isn’t the time to get angry, but all he wants to do is tear the bastards heads off for hurting her. He can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose her crew on top of everything. 

He takes a deep breath, something she has told him numerous times to do, and thinks back to what she said to him when he was in a similar situation. “It uh… adds character.” (Y/n) laughs until she feels the pain in her ribs. Kid scowls at her before dropping himself on the bed and his coat on her to cover her up. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” He makes a “tsk” sound before telling her to shut up. She grabs his hand and plays with his fingers to calm her nerves. “It was planned.” 

“What?” 

“It was Scratchmen Apoo who told the Admirals where we were headed. Had to be. He was trailing us for a couple days and when the Marines spotted us, they let him go.” A stray tear falls down her cheek before she can wipe it away. “We we’re cornered into an island, so we abandoned ship for the time being and fought. We were fine until those bastards showed. They started to take us down one by one. Kizaru trapped me underneath him and held me in place. Made me watch.” Kid wiped away her flowing tears and placed a long kiss to her hair. He’s never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his entire life. Forcing her to watch. “It was Avisa who saved me. And to think I almost didn’t let her join… she shot them with sea stone bullets.”

The anger rolling from Eustass can probably be felt in the next room. He recently formed an alliance with Apoo and was already having his own issues with the man. This is the final piece straw that broke the camels back. Kid knows he can’t be trusted, and he need to be brought to an end. “I’ll make them all pay!” 

Kid jumps up ready to storm out and take his frustrations out on whatever he can get ahold of but (Y/n) speaks up just as he’s at the door frame. “I want to be apart of taking them down. I need to. For the sake of my crew.” Kid turns around and stomps into your direction and places a heated kiss on your lips. 

“Hurry up and get better, because your sailing with me.”  

[mangolover]

Hey! I'm not sure if you still take requests for your 50 followers event, but if you do, could I get Theo with prompt 25? Thank you! :D

Hey! Thank you for this request. I still do take requests for the event, so feel free to grab one of the last prompts.

Honestly, I really enjoyed writing this because it made me go down a memory lane when I read Theo’s route, stopping Mozart’s route for him. I’m still glad I read him, I really like the whole plot based on revenge. 

Anyways, enough of my rumblings, here is your request I hope you like it! 💖

50 Followers Drabble Event, prompt #25 with Theodorus van Gogh

If you wish to check out the offical “50 Followers Drabble Event”, press here

Title: Creature of The Dark

Prompt:  “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire / Ikevamp / Ikevam

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x gn! Reader 

Genre: Angst (kinda fluff at the very end)

Warnings: broken trust, losing job, getting kicked out, poverty, dark thoughts, not eating properly, mentions of death (kinda), swearing, depression(?)

Spoilers: Theo’s route, some facts from Napoleon’s route

Word Count: 1000+

Description: He broke yet another promise and you cut ties with the whole mansion, trying to live on your own in city. Losing your job and getting kicked out, you didn’t know where else to go but to the art gallery.

This has some first person perspective, but it’s mostly 2nd perspective. I was trying something new, hope you all like it!

Neither of the themes above are explored in great detail, but still proceed with caution.

I am tempted to write a part 2 to this.

Enjoy!

Creature of The Dark

“Promise me you won’t try to handle things on your own anymore”

“Alright. I promise.”

‘Hmm.

I really should’ve stuck a needle in your eye the day you broke that promise. You promised it Theo, and yet when the first obstacle arrived in our view, you chose to try and handle it on your own. I guess old habits die hard. Or I was just always meant to be your shadow, only there when there was light.’

But you were always a creature of the dark.

You tried to make living, barely making it by each month you had to pay rent. But this month, today, you lost your job. Not even having money to buy yourself ingredients to make meals for tomorrow onwards, you sat down on the bare, hard, wooden floor and let your mind wander.

Leaving the mansion and cutting ties with everyone at the mansion seemed like a good idea back then. After all, the residents learned of your and Theo’s fight in the morning if they didn’t wake up from your raised voices.

You accused him of breaking his promise. He accused you of not having any trust in him. At first his words hurt. They still sting, like a needle in your heart, 4 months later. But in retrospective, he is right. You don’t have any trust in him. He broke one promise before that and still made no effort to try and show he is worthy of your trust.

Your stomach made a rumbling noise and you put your hands around your frame, knees cradling your head. Maybe you should’ve accepted Comte’s help. Or at least leave one bridge unburnt. But spite and hurt are intense emotions and now you can finally see that everyone’s actions have consequences.

Tomorrow morning, your fairytale of living on your own in 19th century France, was going to meet the cold and harsh reality. The winter was settling, preventing you from sleeping outside.

Should you go to Shakespeare? He’s Vincent’s friend, and Vincent was almost like a family. But what if you see Vincent there? How will you explain yourself to any of them? They are not stupid. No. Shakespeare is not an option.

Letting out a groan, you ran a hand through your hair, messing it up completely. Tears ruined your face even further and the weight of everything has finally settled on your shoulders, threatening to break you.

‘You didn’t have a job. You didn’t have money. You didn’t have family. You didn’t have friends. You were alone. You are alone. You pushed everyone away! You have nothing, you are nothing! You even lost your purpose as Theo’s shadow, thinking you deserve better things? Pfft, don’t be so pathetic Y/n. Don’t you have any pride left? Are you seriously going to give up now?’

‘Or have I given up a long time ago?’

Whole night you tried to fall asleep, but you knew that it wouldn’t be your sweet escape from reality. This is deemed to be a dreamless night. But better that than a nightmare.

The next day you gathered your belongings and started wandering through town. There was nothing better you could do either way. The door back to “present” wouldn’t open for at least a week, full moon not yet arriving and sparing you the agony.

You would be lying if you said you hoped to not run into any of the 11 residents. Sebastian could be going shopping today. Napoleon and Isaac could be going to teach kids. Anyone could be out, even Theo taking care of things on his own. And yet, fate didn’t bring you to any of them.

Defeated, you sat on the fountain ledge and placed your head in your hands, letting out a long sigh. You were out of options. You can’t just waltz back into the mansion. You can’t just come and go whenever there was something you didn’t like.

Something wet hit your knee and you peeled your face from its sanctuary of your palms, your eyes a bit wider than usual. You weren’t crying, right? You placed your fingers under your eye just as another droplet hit the tip of your nose. You looked up to see thick, dark clouds above your head.

‘Damn it!’ you cursed in your head. You need to find a shelter, so you made your way under some eaves. Maybe it will just be a quick rain. But the downpour that started just moments later crushed any hope you had left. Even if you had roof over your head, you were drenched and furious.

You are going to freeze to death here. The night was not going to wait for someone to save you, you need to do it yourself. You saw a carriage approaching and you waved at the driver, thankful when he stopped. You made your way in and told him the address you still knew by heart.

After a short ride and your last money leaving your pocket, you found yourself standing in front of an art gallery. Your last resort. Making your way to the front door. You pushed them slowly open.

“Welcome, feel free to have a look…” his words faltered when he saw you. You were soaked and shaking, clearly freezing. Your hair and clothes were a mess, your gaze cast down to the floor. “Y/n…”

“I didn’t know where else to go” your voice was quiet, like it would break at any second. “I’m sorry…” like you would break at any second.

So many memories and emotions flashed through both of you. Yet neither of you had the courage to make the first move, to speak first.

“I-I can leave if I am bothering!” you stuttered, fearing the ocean blue eyes of the vampire you once called your lover.

“No, stay” you weren’t even sure you heard him right. “We can talk in the morning if you want?”

Four months have passed without a single word spoken between you two. But you both still felt attached to each other.

“That would be nice” a small smile on both of your faces. “Thank you, Theo.”

“Anytime Hondje” your heart sung as he used his old nickname for you.

And with that, you made your way to the upstairs of the gallery where there was a couch you could get some rest on.

[raendown]

A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?” 

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive. 

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out. 

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it. 

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years. 

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top. 

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that. 

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before. 

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.” 

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood. 

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!” 

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!” 

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns. 

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response. 

“I know that!” 

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?” 

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!” 

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk. 

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!” 

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!” 

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new. 

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him. 

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow. 

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings. 

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village. 

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket. 

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing. 

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault. 

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing. 

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat. 

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet. 

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot. 

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded. 

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface. 

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly. 

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that. 

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire. 

“Fuck off!” 

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable. 

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional. 

“Nnngg!?” 

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice. 

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!” 

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!” 

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position. 

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others. 

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else. 

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further. 

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.” 

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?” 

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life. 

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.” 

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist. 

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame. 

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before. 

[anna-justice]

too Close for Comfort - Upstead

Summary: Throwback to the aftermath of “Lines,” in season seven. This is the conversation between Jay, Voight and Hailey that we didn’t get to see.

Warnings: swearing, PTSD?, angst

Requested: Yes! #75, “What did you need to tell me?”

…

“Shut the door.”

Hailey slammed the door of her car shut, falling breathlessly into the driver's seat. It was freezing, the air inside being even colder than the frigid wind outside. Hailey threw her head back against the seat, numb to the frosty touch, she shook ever so slightly, having left her coat on her chair in the haste to get out of the district. 

“So this is something we’re doing now?” 

Soon, the temperature began to set in and Hailey broke her trance long enough to turn her keys in her ignition, suddenly being blasted with air as cold as Chicago winter wind. She didn’t bother to turn it down, it would warm up eventually and hopefully her with it. With no feeling in her ears or her hands, she hit the steering wheel, a single tear escaping her eye. She was surprised it didn’t freeze against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing. 

“Do you understand, you crossed the line?”

She did, she knew what she did was wrong, but she just wanted to feel something. The cold air circulated throughout her car, making it borderline inhabitable. If her fingers were moving against the dash, she didn’t know, she felt nothing. She wanted to feel something: guilt, fear, remorse, even. But she didn’t. All she knew is that she had crossed the threshold of something she couldn’t even see, and all she felt was void. Part of her thought she would be happy, or maybe prideful. She had helped put away a violent criminal and saved another man ten years of life wasted, but the Hailey that had done that wasn’t recognizable to her anymore.

“The lines, they are real clear.”

And she wished they were, in Chicago at least. She knew that at the FBI there was almost a marked path of steps on the floor to take, you couldn’t miss it. But she wished it were that easy at home. She wished that she was afraid of them, like she always was before. But everything seemed different now, ever since Jay was shot her world had been upside down. She watched him cross the line with Marcus, and then with Angela. He was just trying to do the right thing and it almost got him killed, it was so clear to Hailey. 100%, without a doubt, get Jay out of this. He was crazy, supporting the family of the man he got killed, he was too close. But then, she was too close to see that he was never going to move on, not without doing everything he possibly could to help them.

God, it was so normal. It felt like everyone around her got the benefit of the doubt but her. Letting Angela walk to keep Jay’s secret was wrong, an oversight that the old Hailey never would have made. But the old Hailey didn’t watch her partner bleed out on a basement floor, the old Hailey didn’t plant evidence in peoples cars, the old Hailey didn’t dare take a step out of line.

“I don’t want you to be me.” 

She didn’t want to be him, but she didn’t see any other way. There was no going back now. Not after Cameron’s death, not after Darius. She wasn’t the same person who walked in and spilled coffee on Platt all those years ago. She felt like a fraud, and the only person that could really see her may never forgive her. Why would he? Hailey put on her seatbelt, willing herself to drive out of the parking lot, she had a lot of packing to do. 

“Hailey, I’m starting to wonder if you can do it.” 

She did too, she wondered what happened to her. Maybe it was the job: maybe she was hardening, losing her morality or just getting bored. But it felt like so much more than that. She had a family now, a real one, and she would do anything to protect them. She loved Vanessa, and she hated seeing her hurting. Of course she had to help Luis, she couldn’t watch Vanessa spiral. She was attached, something she had never let herself be before. 

Hailey’s phone buzzed in her cup holder, bringing her back to reality. Her car had finally decided to warm up, and now she felt on the verge of overheating.

Jay Halstead: I’m at Backdoor, text me when you get here. I’ll wait to go in.

Hailey groaned, feeling her eyes well up again. She forgot that she had plans to meet Jay at their bar, it had been a rough case, a rough day. It was their thing. She was dreading it, but she had to tell him. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. 

…

Jay’s phone buzzed in his hand showing Hailey’s caller ID. He picked it up immediately. “Hey.” He said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming through quiet and cut off.

Jay sat forward in his seat, “What’s wrong?” Worry laced thick. 

“Jay,” She said, almost like she was bracing herself. “I’m going to New York.” 

“What?” The words just kind of fell out of his mouth.

He heard Hailey take a deep breath on the line, “Voight is loaning me out to the FBI, the field office in New York. I leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t understand…” Jay trailed off, “Why?”

“I-I messed up Jay.” She said, her voice breaking. “I did something really stupid and I guess this is my punishment.” 

Jay was seething and he wasn’t exactly sure why, “He can’t do this, he can’t just ship you off-”

“He can and he did.” Hailey cut him off. They were quiet for a moment. “I should go, I need to pack and my flight is early. I just wanted to tell you.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Jay stumbled over his words. “Thank you, for letting me know.” 

Hailey breathed out a little laugh, “You think I would just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Jay froze for a second, she didn’t understand the weight of her own words. “You? No. Just, still, I appreciate it.” He had a million questions, but it seemed like she wasn’t really up for answers. 

“You’re my partner,” She said without hesitation, “And you will still be my partner when I’m there and you will still be my partner when I get back.”

Those words were his anchor, she was coming back. “Damn right.” He paused, “Get some sleep and text me before you take off, so I know you got through security okay.”

“Of course. Goodnight Jay.”

“Goodnight Hailey, have a safe trip.” And with that the line went dead.

Jay could feel his blood boiling, he smoothly threw the truck back into gear and high tailed it out of the parking lot. There was someone he needed to talk to.

…

10 minutes later Jay burst into Voight’s office. “You’re sending Hailey to New York?”  

Voight put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, he should have seen this coming. “The FBI needs a loan out officer, I thought it would be a good opportunity.” He said, calmly. 

Jay paced around the small office, his hands resting on his hips. He was so mad he couldn’t form a sentence. “How could you do this to me? Again?” 

“This isn’t about you Jay…” Voight said, his voice getting a little louder. 

Jay scoffed, “Like hell it is.” They stared each other down for a moment. “Kevin would have loved this chance, Adam too, and you’re telling me that Kim didn’t need an escape right now?” He didn’t understand why it had to be Hailey, punishment or not. “Why Hailey?”

“Upton knows why.” Voight said shortly.

“Then tell me!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m her partner.” 

Voight stood, throwing the file he was reading down on his desk. “She needs this.”

“Well, I need her.” Jay snapped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. 

Voight scoffed, “Jay, I told you a long time ago that if you want to be in my unit, you keep it in your pants.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Jay spat. “It’s in.” He sighed. “Hank, I can’t lose another partner to the feds. I can’t start over again.”

Voight took a breath, looking at the hurting young man in front of him. “Erin leaving was hard on me too, but ultimately it was her choice. She chose to leave and not come back. I gave Upton a temporary assignment, she is welcome back wherever she is ready.”

She is coming back, she is coming back, she is coming back. He almost felt like he was manifesting it. “What is she doesn’t?”

“Then that’s her choice.” Hank said, “Either way, you are yelling at the wrong person right now. Go home Jay.” 

Jay nodded, “Yeah, okay.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

Jay gave him a short nod before quickly leaving the office. He was feeling so many things he could barely stand it. He was embarrassed for blowing up on Voight and basically admitting his feelings for his partner to his boss. He was dreading the next few weeks without Hailey, he was dreading the constant stress of her deciding to stay. He was sad, all this New York talk was dredging up old memories, ones he wished he could just erase. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure who he was even mad at. And now he was scared, because somehow his truck ended up outside of Hailey’s house. 

He wasn’t sure why he was there or what he was going to say, but he just needed to see her. Jay made his way to the front door, knocking. The door swung open to reveal Vanessa, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. “Hey.” Jay said, he had forgotten about the roommate situation. 

“She’s upstairs.” The young officer said, skipping all niceties. 

Jay nodded, “Thanks.” He looked up the staircase, debating just calling her downstairs. This felt like a line they have never crossed, one he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for, but tonight wasn’t the night for playing it safe. He made his way up the carpeted stairs, the pictures hanging along the wall catching his eye. He was surprised to see that he was in most of them. 

There was on at the very top of just the two of them, he remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday. They had just made a big bust, Voight and Antonio had taken the suspect in while the rest of the unit stayed behind to work with patrol. They were all so excited to finally get the guy off the street, it was one of those really good days on the job. He was pretty sure Kim took the picture, but they were both leaning against a squad car. You can’t see it, but Jay had his arm resting on Hailey’s back while hers and his other one held their vests. She was leaning against his, grinning like she normally was. 

When he willed himself to leave memory lane, he made his way to the top of the stairs, wandering for a moment down the hall to what he assumed was Hailey’s room. He met the threshold and was taken aback. Hailey had his back to him, an open suitcase on her bed. There were clothes everywhere in different folded piles and strewn across the floor. He knocked on the door frame and Hailey turned around immediately. “Hey,” He said quietly.

“Uh, hi.” She said, running a hand through her hair. She had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, something that Jay had never seen her in. “What are you doing here?” 

Jay shrugged, “I just wanted to see you before you left. Make sure you were okay.” 

Hailey shook her head, going back to throwing things in the suitcase. “I’m fine, Jay.” 

Jay took a step into the room and then a few more, crossing yet another line. He made his way to Hailey, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was standing less than two feet from her bed. “Hailey, talk to me.” 

Hailey sighed, “This is a really good opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready, and I don’t think I even want it. Is that ungrateful? This whole thing just feels tainted.” 

“Hailey you are a good cop, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” Jay said softly.

“Jay, you don’t know what I did-”

“It doesn’t matter Hailey.” Jay said, cutting her off. “No matter what you did, you are going to kick ass in New York.” He was being completely serious, even if it was the last thing he wanted, he knew she was going to thrive there. “You’ve got this.” He stood up to leave, he couldn’t lay all his fears and worry on her now, he had to be supportive. 

“Jay-”

“Have a good trip Hailey, call or text whenever you want.” His chest felt tight as he reached the doorway, debating not looking back at her. Every part of him knows he needs to walk out that door, but he can’t forget all the times this has happened before. “What were you going to tell me?”

“Jay, I don’t want to leave.” Hailey calls across the room. 

There are a million things he wants to say, but not now. Not right before she flies 800 miles away. “I don’t want you to leave either.” 

Hailey gives him a soft smile, it’s enough confirmation for them both. She’s leaving, but she will be back. And for then,that was enough.

…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic, I haven’t done one like it in a long time. I got the inspiration for this while listening to Meet us at Molly’s @meetusatmollys (check out this podcast on Podbean, you won’t regret it!). Thank you for reading! <3

P.S. comment/reblog to be added to my one-shot tag list

[littlefreya]

Heart of Darkness

Synopsis: Slight sequel to Overprotected. Walter’s longing wife comes to visit him at his office.

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: Explicit, graphic smutty sex, rough oral sex, choking, role play, pleasure denial, rough sex. MaleDom / FemSub. Slight fluff though. 

A/N: A special thanks for @agniavateira or helping me proof my work. I don’t own Night Hunter / Nomins or Marshall!

Title: Heart of Darkness

The heating is broken at the station. It’s either that, or Walter came up with some new methods of torture to interrogate his suspects. I’ve never seen him in action, I’m not sure if it’s the shame of this very darkness that lives within him, or his desperate attempt to keep me safe from the horrors of the night. His colleagues filled me in a while ago, mentioning he tends to go rough, violent, even brutal at times. 

They know very little for I bask in Walter’s darkness. I’m the first to witness the terror that consumes him and shadows his soul. I drink from his desire, joining him in this violent lovemaking. It’s the only thing that helps him cleanse his demons.

It brings us closer. 

And yet, he doesn’t want me here. He fights to keep me secluded as if I was some porcelain doll. 

As if I don’t see my share of blood and death every day. 

I walk through the chilled halls of the station, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. Even though I’m wearing a large, thick winter coat, it feels like it’s four degrees here. I shouldn’t have worn a skirt beneath all this, but how could I have known? I left five text messages which remained unanswered. It’s not unusual. He is busy, and sometimes he forgets. 

It doesn’t mean this doesn’t piss me off.

I find him in his office, with a phone pressed to his ear. His bulky body faces the window while he talks down some crime lab trainee for messing up the evidence. He turns to see who dares to barge his office uninvited, his blue eyes pale as glaciers. They immediately melt as he realizes it’s me. 

“I don’t care how. Get a new sample or I’ll make sure you’ll never hear the end of this!” He ends the call without a goodbye and drops the device on his desk. His arms grab the edges of the chair tightly while he stares down, letting his soft dark curls fall on top of his forehead.

“What are you doing here, pet? You know I don’t like you coming here.” 

I take off my long coat, hanging it next to the door. His office is only slightly warmer. It’s smaller, and Walter emits enough warmth on his own. Everyone is walking around in their coats and jackets but he's in a black wool sweater per usual, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his wide forearms.

“I missed you” I answer, pretending not to tremble but the fumes that come out of my mouth give me away. 

I take a small, slow twirl in the secluded space, inspecting the room. There's so little light in here. On the shelf, he has some books about the history of crime and criminology, with his diploma and badges of honour laid next to it. Not out of pride, but out of compliance. Walter is not an arrogant man, he’s actually the opposite. He doesn’t have time for chasing glory, all he does is out of pure heroism, some would even say out of altruism.   

The morbid photos next to his desk catch my eyes. Images of victims. They hang on a board latched to the wall, along with a map, and a thick, red string that trails the locations where the bodies were found. These are young women, mutilated, their lives were stolen from them by selfish monsters. 

I get to see my share of blood every day, sometimes even death. But, this is not something anyone should see. 

And this is what he sees all the time, probably also in his dreams. The ghosts of the girls he couldn’t save haunt him; it’s not his fault, but he’d never see it that way. For him, every girl who died on his watch is a girl he has failed.  

My fingers press against the ring on my finger, twisting it anxiously. I can feel my heart shrinking to the size of a walnut. I wish I could suck the pain out of him as you do with poison.

“I told you…” he speaks with a deep frown on his face, as if he is angry with me for entering his cave of horrors. He was in a foul mood before I got here, and I defied his request. I am the one teasing the tinders with more wind and fuel. 

All I wanted was to bring my light into his world, at least for a little while.

“You visit me at work all the time,” I answer, inching closer toward his desk. I try to ignore the sourness in my throat as the horrifying images on the wall stare right at us.  

He gives me a small smile, almost invisible amongst the wrinkles of grumpiness on his forehead. 

“It’s a part of my job to come to the hospital, and it’s the only one in the county.”

That’s how we met. 

I was in my first year of residency. The tall, burly man with the most caring blue eyes appeared in the hospital. I have seen Walter once before that, spending an evening at the local Irish bar with his friends. The toughness on his face was the only thing I remembered then. I thought he was hot, obviously, though I didn’t bother approaching him. 

I didn’t fall in love with him until I saw the ocean of benevolence he kept under that hard shell. 

He came to visit a victim and stayed the night to make sure the aggressor won’t return, and that the girl is taken care of. I felt his eyes on me every now and then, silently observing me when I was checking up on other patients. He tried to strike a small conversation, about the girl first, and then about my job at the hospital. I believed the British giant was just being polite and passed the long, boring night by chit-chat. I should have known I was being interrogated to see if I’m single or not. 

Suddenly, he appeared at the hospital every other day, to check up on “the girl”. The first night, he brought me some coffee because “I work crazy hours,” and he thought I’d like some to drink. Then, it was coffee and a sweet pastry to eat. For a week and a half, I had a constant visitor who took care of my caffeine and sugar intake. My colleagues teased me for suddenly wearing perfume to work, and how I’d blush whenever “Sir Big Dick” arrived.

On the last evening, he came to my department and found me signing some charts. I’ve told him the girl was released during the morning, but of course, he knew that. He smiled at me and offered me a single red rose instead, asking if I’d like to accompany him for a real dinner this time.

Four years since then, he comes to visit even when there are no victims. Sometimes, I’m worried he does that out of fear that something will happen to me, and not just out of a romantic gesture to see his wife. 

“Is it part of your job to stalk your wife?”

He slouches on his chair heavily, making it squeak beneath his weight. His eyes rise to gaze at my face. There is a weariness in them, the kind that even sleep can’t cure anymore. I fear the day when my husband will stray too far from the light, when the heart of darkness will clutch its ugly thorns in his tender flesh. 

“It is my job to make sure the citizens of this county are safe.” 

I roll my eyes at him, walking to stand behind his chair. My hands reach to clutch his broad shoulders as I begin to knead the tense muscles with mild force. He stiffens for a moment and then emits a soft groan, flexing and trying to relax beneath my touch.

“Do you bring red roses to all the citizens in our county?” I speak with a sultry voice, moving my hands to his collarbone. Walter closes his eyes and throws his head back, a deep groan vibrates from the pit of his throat. 

“Only the hot ones,” he answers as his hand finds my leg and snakes up my bare skin, running all the way up beneath my skirt to find the curve of my ass. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s freezing in here.” I answer, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he strokes up and down my thigh to keep me warm.  

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” he guides me toward him to sit in his lap. His hands run up and down my legs, exposing more of my skin while a soft smile spreads across his rugged face. “If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say you came here to seduce a police detective.”

I bite my lower lip, wrapping my hands around his neck while my ass sinks against his groin. I feel so safe in his touch, with his coarse hands that burn hot on my flesh. 

“Why? Is that a crime?”

“Actually, yes.”

I pull away from him, standing against the edge of the desk with a teasing smirk across my face. His hand reaches out to my knees, not wanting to break contact. He has been deprived of it all day long, abandoned in the cold. 

Now here I am, the only warmth he knows.

“Show me then.”

He licks his lips, still smiling as he is caught up with my little flirtatious act. “Show you what, pet?”

“What interrogation methods would you use? How would you squeeze a dirty little secret out a seductress like me?” I place the heel of my boot between his straddled thighs, preventing him from moving and asserting my dominance to provoke him.  

His eyes narrow at me while he considers the idea. I see how the ethical balance begins to tip, the ball falling from one scale to the other. His better judgment becomes lost in a thick cloud of lust. 

“You keep secrets from me?” he asks as he plays along.

“Maybe…” I stretch the word, giving him a wicked flirtatious smile. 

Somewhere deep inside this good man, there is a big black dog, hungry to rip this willing victim to shreds. 

He peers at my leg and then up into my eyes while his fingers reach to gently tickle beneath my knee. I hum in delight, throwing my head back, my leg losing its strength, my assertiveness leaning on the edge along with my ankle. 

“I’d begin by putting you in a position where you don’t have any power whatsoever,” he speaks in a voice that’s gruff and low, his fingers now pressing hard and I’m forced to straighten my leg and lower it to the floor.

The smile on his face becomes cold and his eyes darken as he moves to stand in front of me. His leans against me, his torso pressed against my chest, his chin against my forehead as he lowers his head.

“Down on your knees.” 

These words take my breath away, making my skin prickle with nervousness. I follow his orders with the obedience of a good wife. My knees lay pressed against the cold floor, I try not to tremble too much. I’m not sure if it’s just the temperature of the room, or the dark glare on Walter’s face.

His groin is at the level of my face, the outline of his cock showing through the fabric of his trousers as it begins to harden.

He reaches out his hands to cradle my face. Stroking my hair back, examining my face as if he is learning my features for the first time. The smile diminished from his face the moment I went down on my knees. Now he stares at me with the severity of his bad detective attitude.   

“You’re very pretty,” he compliments me, but it sounds more of a fact than anything sweet. His fingers caress my cheeks and then at the corners of my lips, forcing me to part my lips. “Pretty little mouth too, does it talk?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, Detective” I play along, if I’ve known we’re actually doing THAT, I would have prepared a script. 

His hands run to stroke the hair away from my face, beginning in a tender affectionate touch, he collects every strand lovingly until my hair is bundled between his strong palms. I can feel the softness of his touch draining away. 

“Undo my belt.” He commands. 

“I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to ask again.”

My hands tremble with fear and excitement as my fingers fumble with the metal clasp of his belt. Walter’s eyes look at me carefully, completely devoted to this role. I wonder how much of his job is pretence and how much is actually him.

“What do you say if I’ll fuck your mouth until you cry?” 

He asks while reaching one hand to unzip his trousers, freeing his beautiful large cock and stroking it in front of me for display. I can’t help but lick my lips, like a hungry kitten presented with creamy delight. The little drop of pre-cum that trickles down his shaft is too inviting. 

“I’d say you still won’t hear a word from me,” I provoke. 

Walter gives a short smile, tugging my hair back painfully until I’m forced to part my lips open into a breathless gasp of pain.

 “Take me in your mouth.” 

Usually, when I please him, I’d begin with a soft teasing, licking my way up and down his hardness until I finally take him in and begin working him sensually.

I am not granted any of that courtesy right now.

Walter forces himself into the wet heat of my mouth with the delicacy of a grunt. A deep, throaty groan echoes in the room as he is surrounded by my hot saliva and is pressed against the softness of my tongue. 

I choke out a mewl as he completely fills my mouth, feeling the head of his cock nearing the back of my throat. My cheeks betray me, sucking by instinct to savour his girth. Every inch of my body knows Walter all too well, it succumbs to the man that owns it, physically and emotionally.  

I look up to him with helpless glossy eyes. Victory showers his face, golden and bleak at the same time. He lets his callous long fingers clasp around the hollow of my cheeks to force me to keep my mouth open wide just to please him.

I gasp for air as he pulls back slowly. Just a cruel act to make me think we’re done, but we are far from that.

“Loosen your mouth pet, I am going deeper.”  

He warns and shoves himself in again, this time deeper as promised, relishing on my muffled whimpers he puts one hand on the back of my head and begins to buck his hips. Fucking my mouth in the rhythm that fulfils his lust.

My heart pounds on my chest, my knees begin to hurt as I try to move with him. But I’m his good girl, breathing through my nose, letting my tongue lap around his lavished cock lovingly while he uses me as the wet hole he unloads into. 

His eyes are glistening, ecstasy drawing near. I look up to stare at him, admiring how glorious he is. My large man, so confident and dominating. His beautiful dark curls frame his square face, bringing out his high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. And damn, that voice, those low melodic hums of pleasure making my entire body shake.   

I choke onto his swollen cock. Tears stained dark grey thanks to my eyeliner and mascara, run down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry beautiful,” he speaks with cynical sweetness, his thumb wiping the tears away from one cheek as he carefully withdraws from my mouth, allowing me to breathe once again. “All you need to do is tell me what you’re hiding and this will end.”

I gasp for air, my chest slightly heaving while his fingers run under my eyes to clean the black mess that is smeared on my face. He remains silent, the wrinkles between his brows are deep and severe while he is still pulling his bad cop act. Yet the way his hands run over my face with care gives him away so easily.

“Is this the worst you can do? Some detective you are!”

I provoke him, laughing patronizingly with my voice still husky, the edge of my throat slightly sore from having to endure his size in its depth. Walter chuckles momentarily before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up to sit on his desk. 

“Spread ‘em” he nearly barks, but it’s not really an order since his hands press my knees apart widely, exposing the dampness on my underwear. He smoothes both hands up my thighs roughly, his thumbs reaching out until reaching to my core. 

I let my head back, feeling how his thumb massages me, pressing against my covered clit and drawing circles against it.

“You like that, little slut?”

“Yes…” I throw my head back and moan, my hands holding hard at the edges of the desk while I spread myself to him as much as possible and grinding my hips to steal more friction.

“You want more?” he teases while his fingers slowly slip my underwear to one side, exposing me to the cold air in the room. I’m so drenched for him right now, held open, anticipating like sliced fruit. He reaches out for his cock and begins to stroke himself in front of me, a wicked grin adorning his face.

I’m very much aware he can finish himself just like this while leaving me here to beg out of thirst. Well, I can do that too. I lift my hand to touch myself, nearly losing balance but he shoves his thighs between my legs right away and holds my wrist away.

“Ah, ah” he forbids. “You’re not touching yourself, you’re still under investigation.”

“If you don’t finish me off…” I threaten him but my intimidation breaks into a pathetic cry as I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my clit. 

“You’ll what?” he asks, running the tip between my throbbing lips and up to my clit. Back and forth he tortures me, increasing the pace and then slowing down. His groans convince me he may be enjoying this more than actually fucking me, seeing me so helpless and weak, willing to cry and beg for him to just put himself inside me. “I’m still waiting to hear what you’re hiding.” 

I close my eyes, head thrown back in agony and pleasure at once, so close yet so far away as Walter pushes just an inch inside, and then pulls out and strokes me again. 

I am still not willing to break completely, what’s the fun in that? I know my man, and I’m aware of his darkest desires and capabilities.

Let him unleash his worst. 

“Not a word from me, Detective, you’ll just have to try harder.”

His nostrils flares. 

“Fine, then I’ll just have to punish fuck you, drill you like a whore.” He pushes all the way in, making me whimper with bliss as I am finally whole again. 

I’ve led him just to where I wanted. His body conquering mine, filling me with the pleasure that’s not just physical.

Somehow both his hands find their way to my neck, holding me constrained while he allows my body to stretch for him. He makes me stare directly into his eyes, holding my face close to him, his hot mouth hovers onto mine, our breath mingling.  

I wrap myself completely around him, my boots pressing onto his ass to keep him buried deep inside. My hands hang onto his shoulders as if hanging to lift itself. 

He begins to finally move, grunting against my ear, his beard tickling at my neck while he thrusts me fast and hard. I grind onto him, our bodies making the erotic sounds of wet bodies as they slam together. 

This isn’t romantic lovemaking, he’s not tender and caring. His force is controlling, consumed by his demons once again. He fucks into me as if he wants to rip me apart, his hands depriving me of air, tight, perhaps too tight. Yet it’s still love, he would have not been able to have this with any other person and I would have not given it to him if I have not loved him as much.

The desk moves as he pounds me, he stretches his arms somewhat to lean me back, so he can look at me as I squirm beneath him, choked, fucked, and beautiful in his arms. We have both long forgotten our stupid game. We were too lost in the act of seeking out pleasure in one another’s bodies. 

I look back at the man I love, feeling the tremor that dances between my legs. My entire body quivers. My muscles embrace him deep inside as I come hard around his cock, snapping my eyes open, gasping at his sight.

He has his fingers engulfed roughly around my throat, leaving blue bruises. If he’d want me to stop breathing at this moment, he could so easily just push slightly tighter. I’d die happy in his arms, but I know he’d kill himself before ever really hurt me. His hands finally snap from my throat and reach instead to hold my face, crashing his lips against mine into a deep hungry kiss before breaking away and letting out one final gasp as true bliss sweeps him away. 

For more than a few moments, Walter is lost, buried deep inside me, surrounded by light.   

That’s when I break, entangling my fingers in his big soft curls, I inch my lips toward his ear to whisper, 

“I’m pregnant.”

Walter backs his face away to look at me, first with disbelief, his eyebrows rising, unable to even form a word. I’ve never seen so many emotions at once. Then a smile appears, so wide I think his cheeks may hurt. His beautiful teeth show and he lets out a chuckle of joy, sounding almost half-believing. 

“Really?” 

I melt as I see the twinkle in his eyes. The man who is always so grumpy and gruff looks now like the sweetest, most caring person in the world. 

“Yes, we're going to have a baby.” 

He kisses me lovingly, his arms wrapping around my back and holding me tightly. 

“Detective Walter do you ha… SHIT!” A young cadet barges in, finding me with my legs spread around Walter while he is still panting heavily with his curls sticky at his forehead.

It’s as bad as it looks.

The frown immediately returns to Walter’s face. Looking at the cadet as if he is ready to murder him at the spot.

“GET OUT!” he yells, throwing whatever’s within his reach to force the cadet out faster.

I can’t help but chuckle, wrapping my arms around my mountain of a man, there is so much of him to hug, it always makes me feel so protected. He leans his cheek against my forehead and then lets out a deep sigh. 

That’s when I know the darkness is returning, and now he has a brand new fear in him. 

[deerixiie]

description: one by one, love stole the people oikawa cared about the most. it stole him, too.

pairings: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

genre/warning: angst, hanahaki au, major character death, mentions of blood, body horror?

a/n: this is a one day late birthday present for the wonderful @wanderynn!! rae ily don’t kill me for writing oikawa angst for your birthday

Oikawa was nervous.

Which was odd, because he had been in situations like this before. Interviews required being asked questions he was expected to answer, after all.

But those were interviews. This was a therapy session.

Oikawa’s gaze dropped down at his hands, slightly worn from years of slapping a volleyball with his entire strength. Those same hands that had slapped a ball with spine-chilling intensity were the same hands that gently caressed your cheek, the same hands that easily intertwined with yours, the same hands that tilted your chin up with every kiss he placed on your lips.

Oikawa’s eyes started to burn.

The therapist seated in front of him continued to tap away on the computer, her face devoid of any emotion. She seemed to be satisfied with whatever was behind the screen and swiveled around to face him, a disgustingly fake smile on her face.

(Oikawa would know, his smiles were fake as well. Slightly strained, a little too bright to be genuine.)

“So, Oikawa-san,” the therapist said, making eye contact with him.

“Oikawa is fine.”

“Oh, alright. So, Oikawa, how are you feeling?”

Tired. Numb. Odd. Guilty.

“Fine.” The fake smile came easily.

“Ah, okay. Is this your first experience with Hanahaki?”

No, of course it wasn’t. He was told that being well-known meant people will fall in love with him. “It’s not your fault, Tooru,” they said. “Some people fall in love very easily.” Oikawa remembered snorting, thinking that no one could possibly fall in love with him just because he was charming and good-looking.

He was wrong.

(It started with Ume, the bubbly girl in his second year of middle school. Then Riko and Akika in his first year of highschool, one other girl he didn’t remember the name of in his second year, and Mizuki in his third.

Only three of them had settled on getting amnesia and forgetting Oikawa entirely instead of dying. The adoring gazes he was once plagued with became empty stares.

But Riko didn’t. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to her funeral; he knew the only stares he would get would be accusatory ones.)

The therapist continued. “And I mean, not just from being a celebrity, but with people close to you.”

Oikawa suddenly found it difficult to breath. He saw the flash of spiky dark hair, of rude nicknames and harsh shoulder slaps.

(“I’ll be alright.”

“Iwa, you’re dying!”

“I said I’ll be alright.”

Oikawa was in Argentina when Iwaizumi died. “He had a severe coughing fit on the street that made him pass out,” they told him. “He was dead before they could put him in an ambulance.”

Oikawa cried for hours.)

“Yes,” Oikawa said quietly. “A close friend of mine died from it.”

“Oh.” The therapist’s smile faded away. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, flashing his brightest of smiles.

The therapist’s expression became more serious. “Dealing with that much loss must be hard.”

Oikawa didn’t respond. What does he even say to that?

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

About Iwaizumi? No, about you. Oikawa’s smile was smaller, obviously less genuine. “No, not really.”

“Well, uhm…” the therapist drummed her fingers against her thigh. “Were you two close?”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. The lines between the two of you had been gray and blurred. Were the intoxicated kisses at two in the morning really love, or just drunken lust? Being tangled up under the covers as you lazily slept on top of the other wasn’t necessarily romantic, was it? You held his hand because you were afraid of losing him in the crowd, not because you loved him, right?

(Wrong.)

“Even if we were friends, we were closer than most friends were.”

“Ah.” The therapist typed something on her computer. “How did you find out?”

“Come again?”

“When she was diagnosed. How did you find out it was you she was in love with?”

“Oh.” Oikawa looked out the window. It seemed to be on the cusp of fall and winter, bare branches and freezing temperatures but no snow.

He found himself smiling. You hated the snow.

“She told me a couple hours before she died.”

The therapist sucked in an audible breath. “What was that like?”

Oikawa swallowed slowly. “We were sitting together, watching a movie or something like that. She had a coughing fit.”

(He remembered how weak you looked pressed up next to him, your knees drawn to your chest, your eyes hollow and empty, your body thin and frail. Your coughing fits were violent, more violent than most. Tissues and handkerchiefs followed you wherever you went, stained with shriveled, bloody petals.)

“She told me it was me. I didn’t understand her at first, but she was saying it was me over and over. And then I understood. Six hours later, she died.”

“Is that all?”

No. “Yes.”

“So you didn’t really have much time to think about it before she passed, but it must have made you feel guilty. That’s why you’re here today.”

Oikawa nodded.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Oikawa.”

That’s what they all said. But he couldn’t help it, could he? He saw you sprawled on the ground in a pool of crimson, serene white petals decorating the floor like it was some sort of aesthetic arrangement. You looked so unbelievably peaceful, finally freed from the death vice of your unrequited love for him.

Love for him.

Oikawa was blind. He was desperate. He was so desperate for affection that he accepted your kisses and touches with open arms, disregarding the fact that you could be in love with him. Pure, inhumane lust drew him to you, trailing his hands down your arms, pressing his lips against your skin. He was a monster.

“Oikawa, I take it that you’ve heard of PHH?”

(PHH - (Purple Hyacinth Hanahaki) A branch of hanahaki originating from guilt over the death of a loved one; usually one who had died a hanahaki-related death from being in love with them.”

Oikawa’s nose had wrinkled reading the definition off of his health textbook. “That can happen?” He asked, glancing over at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi shrugged and continued to fill out his homework. “Love is confusing.”

“If it’s this confusing I’m never going to fall in love!” Oikawa huffed. “Love is stupid!”

“That’s what you’ll say now, Stupidkawa. I bet you’re falling in love first.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, not true!”

The world was an ironic, cruel place.)

Oikawa’s heart pounded in his chest, an ominous countdown. (Countdown to a diagnosis? Countdown to his death?) He nodded once. “I know about it.”

The therapist drums her nails on her desk, echoing his already racing heart. A sympathetic look passed on her face. “You might be at risk for that, Oikawa.”

Oikawa found his eyes drifting over to the window once more. He spotted a lone orange leaf clinging to the end of a tree branch, persisting even as the wind violently shook the branch.

(Your body shaking violently as you clung to Oikawa’s arm, whispering “it’s you” over and over, a mantra that would haunt him even in death.

Death. It was coming sooner now, wasn’t it?)

Another violent shake, and the leaf spiraled to the ground.

(Ghostly empty eyes, mouth slightly parted as blood dribbled from the corner. Your arms were wrapped around nothing, as if in those last moments of life you were holding something tight to your chest, a last connection to the mortal world.

Oikawa wished he was there. No—no he didn’t. He wouldn’t bear to see the light fading from your eyes as he held you in his arms.)

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

He found himself back on the court two days later.

“He always finds a way to come back to the court.” His coach had said that once. Highschool Oikawa had reveled in the praise, reveled in his devotion to a sport.

Now it felt shallow. How dare he be more devoted to a sport than the own two people who motivated him to even start playing? How dare he be blinded by the rush of dopamine a successful serve gave him? How dare he not support his closest friend when he was nearing his end? How dare he not notice your unyielding love for him? How dare he how dare he how dare he-

Oikawa swiveled on his heel and threw the volleyball onto the wall. It bounced off with a satisfying “thwack” and landed back into his hands.

Oikawa sighed.

His thumbs traced slow circles against the leather. Soothing. Calmi-

(His thumb rubbed a gentle circle into your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot on your face.

Your lips quirked into a smile. “For what?”

“Mm,” he moved forward and closed the distance between you greedily, encapturing you in another kiss. “It doesn’t matter.”)

Oikawa threw the ball up and took a step forward, shifting his weight into his feet for the jump.

A violent cough tore itself from his throat.

Oikawa collapsed onto his knees, his hand pressed into his mouth. The coughs were aggressive, sending violent tremors throughout his entire body. His throat hurt.

(“Yeah, it hurts,” Iwaizumi muttered, quietly rubbing his throat. “It hurts like hell.”)

(“It hurts.” Your voice was a ghost whisper in the quiet hums of the night. “Tooru, it hurts.”)

The coughs subsided, leaving behind an eerie sort of silence. Oikawa removed his hand from his mouth.

Ah, he thought. I should’ve expected this.

A vivid purple petal dotted with crimson sat in the palm of his hand. He closed his fists around the flower petal, his eyes stinging with tears.

Love was harsh words and sore throats. Love was drunken lust in the ungodly hours of night. Love was confusing. Love was stupid.

Love, it seemed, was everyone’s demise.

-purple hyacinths represent sorrow or regret.

-white tulips represent forgiveness.

taglist: @joliechuchoter @pablopascal @yn-tingz @vannerz @strawberriimilkshake @sunarashi @hajiimes @tttournesolll @hajibee @semiis @kageyuji (send an ask/dm if you want to be removed, fill out the form here to be added!)

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 8: Moceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 8 - The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. 

Content warnings (oh boy): This is an afterlife fic! Meaning there is technically character death, but it is essentially the beginning of a whole new life, and the death itself is only briefly touched upon. That being said, warnings for; hypothermia/frostbite, death, car accident, talk of past death, mention of cancer, brief description of body horror (no gore).

Word count: 2.8k

It started when Janus was two. His parents were awoken by his feral cries, throwing open the door to his room, imagining the worst. They recoiled immediately upon touching him, his skin almost freezing to the touch. They closed the bedroom window and piled him in more layers until he stopped wailing, but that was only the start.  

When he was six, his mother explained soulmates to him. He looked at her with huge eyes, fiddling with the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

When he was ten, he had grown sick and tired of the constant cold. A majority of his classmates and friends hadn’t met their soulmates yet, but they all didn’t seem as bothered by it as he was. They didn’t keep their winter jackets on in class, no matter the season, and their hands were never too cold to hold a pencil.

When he was thirteen, he caught hypothermia. At the insistence of his older brother, he joined him outside in the snow for a hike in the forest. His countless layers and heat pads in his pockets only did so much when they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and while his brother seemed to be unaffected by the cold, Janus woke up the next day in the hospital. He could vaguely remember falling face first into the snow, his cold slowly morphing into pleasant warmth, his brother shouting his name. The doctors were unable to save his left eye, leaving him half blind, and his frostbite scars never quite disappeared. They said the very fact that he survived was some kind of miracle. He didn’t go into the snow after that. 

When he was sixteen, his mother took him to a doctor. After thorough examination, the man could find nothing wrong with him. He suggested B-12 supplements and a list of ways to increase his circulation, and when that did nothing to help months later, he sat them both down in his office and explained it most likely meant Janus’ soulmate had died. Janus didn’t know until that moment that it was possible to miss someone you’ve never met, but he cried on the way home. His mom said nothing. 

When he was eighteen, Janus was alone. He had become reclusive and standoffish, unwilling to spend time around any of the people who tried to befriend him. All of them had soulmates. All of them got to be happy. 

When he was twenty, his family suggested group therapy for those who had lost their soulmates, and he had reluctantly gone to one session. For a moment, he felt at home, surrounded by other people in thick sweaters and jackets and gloves, until he learned that all of them had lost their soulmates after meeting them. They had been able to spend years together, enjoying each other’s company, before losing the love of their life. When he explained his situation, he was only met with the same sympathetic looks he’d received everywhere else in life, and he never went back. 

When he was twenty-two, he graduated with his Bachelor’s degree in psychology. The crowd was the quietest it had been all night; no one knew this guy, but it felt wrong to not cheer at all. He shook the Dean’s hand with thick yellow gloves and took the diploma, ignoring the man’s confused raised eyebrow and walking away to the noise of half-hearted claps. 

When he was twenty-five, life was okay. Not good, just okay. He’d found a lab job in the psychological social experiment aspect that paid decently and wasn’t a total bore. Most nights he was numb, especially after experiments that revolved around soulmates, so he turned on Netflix and poured a glass of wine and fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in a thick weighted blanket. Life is fine, he told himself. It could be worse. 

And when Janus was twenty-seven, he died. It was an accident; a mix of a long tiring day and an ignored red light just as he was crossing the street. The car barreled through the intersection, other car horns blaring, and he looked up just in time to see the person looking down, probably on their phone. He’d never know. The impact was quick, and he didn’t even have time to feel pain before the world went dark. He was a little grateful for that.

It stayed dark for a long while after that. Well, in full honesty, he didn’t know how long it was. It felt like a long time, but it also felt extraordinarily short. The seconds turned to years and millennia became mere minutes, the very concept of time fading away just as he did. A minuscule part of him was still aware that he was conscious, and he probably should have been a little scared of that, because did that mean he was destined to float around as an unattached subconscious for eternity? A larger part of him was just relieved to finally rest, with the weight of student debt and an exhaustingly lonely life finally gone. 

Until it wasn’t. The light crept into the center of his vision first and he grumbled in annoyance. Let me just enjoy it a second longer, he thought distantly, but the light didn’t listen as it slowly spread across his vision like molasses. For the first time in his life, he realized with a start, he didn’t feel cold. There was a heat in his chest that he’d never felt before, and he was scared when the darkness faded, so would the warmth. 

“Janus, are you okay?” A desperate voice broke through his dark haze in whisps, slowly clearing the fog that had set in. It rambled on, “Oh, stupid question. You just died. Sorry! Can you see me?”

His vision lit up all the way, replacing the darkness but not taking away the heat. Perfect. He was about to answer no to the stranger’s question; there was just a blur of blue and white and green, until the figure loomed that much closer and came into focus. It was a man, probably his age, with bright blue eyes and floppy golden hair, his freckled nose just inches from Janus’. His eyes held concern but he was smiling like no tomorrow. The man seemed to realize when Janus could in fact see him clearly and backed away, holding out a hand to help him up. Why was he lying on the ground? Where was he?

That question was answered as soon as he took the offered hand, looking around him in shock. Apparently the dark void hadn’t held him for as long as he thought. A distant siren pierced the air, and people’s shouts rang over each other as they milled around the body in the street, his body. The car that had hit him was nowhere to be seen. It was all too surreal, too uncomfortable, and he turned back to the man standing in front of him. They were standing on the sidewalk, just meters away from the gruesome scene on the street, and Janus suddenly felt very lightheaded. 

“I carried you away as soon as your soul formed. Didn’t want to overwhelm you when you opened your eyes for the first time.”

“I’m dead?”

“Yep,” The man answered just a bit too cheerfully, before noticing the newcomer’s expression and softening, “Sorry. I’ve been here for a while, the shock has kind of worn down.”

“What’s here?”

“The afterlife. Deathny World. Aliven’t. I’ve heard it all.”

“Ah,” Janus choked, trying to take in the environment around him without looking at his own dead body, or the paramedics that had just arrived on the scene. It looked like the real world, and obviously they were still in the real world to some extent since he was witnessing the aftereffects of his own death, but the subtle mist floating through the air was definitely new. It curled through the air gently, resting on every surface it could land on, coloring the world with soft rainbow hues. It was the real world, it was just as if he was seeing more of it for the first time. The parts that were invisible before. An orange tuft graced by his ear and he could just make out the sound of someone laughing, the smell of fresh bread, the taste of fresh jam on a summer morning. A smile tugged at his lips before he realized.

“Forgotten memories,” The man spoke up, as if reading his mind. “Every lost memory of every person winds up here. Mostly good ones, but some are bad. You’ll learn how to sift through them soon enough.” 

Janus was finally able to pull himself away from the colorful world, staring into the bright eyes of the stranger. “Who are you?”

“I’m Patton,” he said with a new grin, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I’m your soulmate.”

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

It took Janus a much longer time than he would have liked to admit to unfreeze from the revelation, Patton taking his hand gently and sinking them out to a new location. His stomach churned upon rising up, the new sensation making him nauseous. He didn’t recognize where they were, some cafe, and Patton gently pushed him into a seat before strolling up to the counter with no hesitation, starting a conversation with the barista and gesturing to Janus. The mist, the lost memories, were gone, replaced with a golden haze that gave the world a soft glow. The air was thick with the smell of coffee beans and cookies that instantly calmed Janus’ stomach. When Patton finally walked back to him, two mugs in hand, he explained. 

“This is the soul world. We can pop in from the real world to this one whenever we want. Some souls choose to stay on one side predominantly, some switch back and forth a lot.” 

“This single cafe is the soul world?”

“Oh! No, my bad! There’s a whole lot more outside. I’ll have to show you later. Right now, though, just relax. You’ve had a… long day, to say the least.” He pushed one of the cups into Janus’ grasp.

“What is it?” He asked skeptically. It looked like coffee, but who’s to say anything anymore. 

“Whatever you want it to be. Think of your favorite drink, then try it.”

Janus narrowed his eyes but lifted the mug to his lifts, trying to think of a single drink he liked. His mind decided that this was the ideal moment to forget everything he ever drank in his entire short life, so when he finally took a sip, the liquid was disgustingly tasteless. Like warm water. He set the drink down, watching Patton intensely.

Janus took in his appearance, his general shock finally beginning to wear off. An open light blue button up over a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was pretty much Janus’ definition of cute, what with those stupidly adorable dimples and little golden locket hanging on his neck. If he’d met him when he was alive, he no doubt would have fallen head over heels for him.    

“You’re my soulmate? How is that…” He cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t blushing, “How is that possible?”

Patton hummed, wiping off what appeared to be a hot chocolate moustache, “I died when I was three. Cancer.”

“That’s awful.”

Patton shrugged, taking another sip, “It wasn’t great. I woke up by myself, still half wedged in my own corpse. It was terrifying. My parents were crying, and I tried to tell them I was there, somehow, but they couldn’t see me.”

“Totally not traumatic at all.”  

The man actually laughed, despite the dark story, “I had to figure everything out for myself. Sinking down, navigating both worlds, how to control my own form… which you are doing surprisingly well at, by the way.” 

Janus glanced down at himself. He definitely wasn’t alive, that much was sure, if the wisps of yellow smoke cascading down him were any indication. If he concentrated hard enough, the fog began to disappear, leaving him looking normal, albeit a bit paler. As soon as his mind drifted, however, the golden trails were back.

“This was the first place I was able to rise up in in this world. It’s kind of an easy access point. I popped up behind the counter, scared the living daylights out of Virgil.” He pointed to the barista who was currently chatting with another person ghost, laughing over identical mugs with them. “He’s been here a while. Two hundred years, give or take.”

Janus paled, the idea of eternity becoming just that much more real. “Oh…”

“Yeah. He kind of raised me. And then when I was old enough to understand, he explained that I’d left a soulmate behind. I cried for hours after that.” He smiled sadly, finally meeting Janus’ eyes. 

“You knew my name,” The younger recalled suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “Right when I was waking up, you said my name.”

Patton looked almost sheepish, focusing back on the cup between his hands, “After Virgil told me… I kind of made it my personal mission to find my soulmate. I spent a lot of time in the real world, years, trying to find you, and of course checking in on my parents sometimes. Ghosts don’t need sleep, we can sleep, if we want, but we don’t need to, so it was a constant search. And then, my parents both ended up in the hospital, long story, and I wanted to be there when they woke up. Make their transition into the new world a little easier than mine was,” His expression lit up, wiggling a little in his seat, “And while I was there, I stumbled across a certain young patient with severe frostbite and hypothermia.”

“Me.”

“Mmhm. And I felt this weird warmth in my chest, which is weird, because ghosts don’t really feel temperature. It didn’t last that long, just a couple seconds, really, but it was enough time to know.”

“The soulbond.”

“Yep.”

They both drank in unison. This time, Janus’ drink tasted like the unsweetened chamomile tea from the hospital. He made a sour face and put the cup back down. He stared into his reflection for a moment, almost captivated in the sloshing against the sides of the mug, before Patton spoke again.

“I spent most of my time in the alive-world after that. With you. And it sucked, because there was nothing I wanted more than to talk to you and hug you and just let you know I existed… you were so sad…”

“Yeah…” Janus mumbled, tapping the ridge of his cup with his fingernail. “Is that why you were at the accident?”

“I tried to stop it,” Patton whispered, a look of pure guilt crossing his face, “I couldn’t tug you back though, and you didn’t hear me. So the least I could do was pull you out when you formed and take you away from the crowd.” 

The odd language was starting to confuse Janus, the weird differentiation between his soul and his body, the terminology regarding the soul world he didn’t understand… it was all just a lot. 

“So… Do we age? You’re obviously not three anymore. But the barista doesn’t look two hundred.”

“Virgil. And… I don’t know.”

“Very comforting.”

“You’re sassy.”

“That I am.” 

For the first time in a very long time, Janus’ lips twitched into a smile in response to the absolute beam on Patton’s face. No one had ever taken his snark as anything other than bitchiness, but this guy, his soulmate, seemed to love it. 

“As far as I know, we won’t. I think I only aged along with you, and now that you’re here, we’re probably done.” He had finished his drink, the barista swooping in out of nowhere and plucking it from his grasp with an impish grin. Patton shouted his thanks as Virgil disappeared into the back room. “He’s been waiting to meet you for a long time. But he can be a handful, so we’ll save proper introductions until you’re settled. Speaking of which…” He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and offering his hand to Janus once more. “I can show you where residency is, if you’d like. It might be nice to take a nap, just to process.”

Janus considered. The vague sounding ‘residency’ was intriguing, but he was much too restless to sleep right now. He voiced as much. “Maybe later. Do you think you could show me around first?”

The grin Patton gave him was bright enough to power a city block. Janus took the extended hand and the man squealed, pulling him towards the door excitedly. Yeah. He was definitely already falling for the literal ball of sunshine that was his soulmate. 

“One grand tour of the afterlife, coming up!” 

[younghoax]

• Brockton, Massachusetts • 2021 •

She’s dead. He just needs to accept it and then it can’t hurt him. Not that it should fucking hurt him. She’s been dead to him for years -- and him, her.

She’s dead.

“Hey, kid.”

Sean is leaning against the door frame, blocking the small opening like he expects Jordan to push right past him and tear the place apart again. The beard he had in the winter of 2013 has been buzzed down to stubble but he’s not fooling anyone: rotting teeth and yellow eyes are a dead giveaway. He must know why Jordan’s here but doesn’t cut him any slack, just looks at him expectantly until finally, brows pinched and sloped all sorry-like, he asks, “You wanna come inside?”

She’s dead.

The apartment is small, everything crammed into one room apart from two doors which he guesses is a bedroom and a bathroom. All in all, the kitchen-living area is about the size of his bedroom in Midtown. It smells the same as his mom’s last place. Musky and acidic. There are blankets on the couch and he can picture his mother there, passed out in front of the TV like she always was back home. Always freezing cold with a hot water bottle stuffed down the side of the cushions which... he sees now, stained and old, still full, but not the one she had when they first moved to this city. He remembers when that one burst, how she’d screamed even though the water had some-what cooled by then. Just from the shock, really, and how they couldn’t afford to ruin that couch.

So there are blankets and a hot water bottle and two mugs on the coffee table. Sean sits in an armchair that looks older than even him, and Jordan lowers himself in what he guesses is his mom’s seat-- was his mom's seat? Because it’s been a month or so since he started getting phone calls, but that doesn’t mean Sean would have erased any trace of her (it took months before he started cleaning up after Curly) and it’s not like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, because it’d be a damn relief if she was gone, but...

“Why’d you call?” Jordan asks. No point being polite about it. No point apologising. He didn’t miss them, he ignored them. He’s only sorry that he couldn’t help but come here after all. Couldn’t just let it be. “I’ve been busy,” he then adds, antsy when the man doesn’t respond after a while.

Sean nods, leant with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “Yeah, I figured,” he says with a nod before he takes a long breath. She’d dead. Fuck, okay. She’s dead.

“Is it Tracy?” Well, he knows the answer to that. “Spit it out, man.”

She’s dead. Say it. Tell me she’s dead. Let me move on. Let me stop thinking about it. Let me stop re-writing up my work notice and looking for apartments in Brockton and searching up insurance plans and NA meetings and family fucking therapy. Spit it out and tell me it’s over before I cave and give her another chance. She’s dead.

Sean is still silent for a while, mouth opening and closing as he rearranges the words in his mouth. Spit it out. Jordan almost tells him again, wringing his own hands now as he waits but, just as he opens his mouth, Sean tells him, “She’s dead.”

Jordan’s bouncing his knee, biting the inside of his lip as he gives a slow nod. Okay. It’s what he expected. All those calls out of nowhere, this weird fucking feeling he’s had. It’s what he knew it was the whole time. It’s not. It’s not a shock. Or, it shouldn’t be a shock.

Jordan clears his throat. Nods again. “Right, okay.” Scoffs. “Was it that fuckin’ hard?”

He leans forward, away from the blankets stuffed across the seat, stinking of her suddenly.

“I’m sorry, bud. It was... She wasn’t.” Sean tries. Fails, but he does look sorry. Sorry to be the one delivering the news after everything. He was there when Jordan showed up to their last apartment in 2013, crying for his mom like some fucking twerp. There was shit he couldn’t tell anybody else. Like the letters he and Curly started to send, both of their spelling so laughably bad. Like how they never spoke about them when Jordan visited. How Curly would just give a knowing smile until the last visit when he. Didn’t. Because he already knew by then. He’d already written what he’d written.

“Who’s Curly?” That’s what Tracy had said, Jordan shaking against her side, sobbing like a bitch whilst Sean tried to remind her of Jordan’s boyfriend from England with the curly hair and the blue-green car that was parked out front sometimes. He walked Jordan out in the end, when his mother started getting defensive and hysterical. Walked him to the door to tell him, slurred, “you’re too young to lose people, J, but your mom will get better. I swear--” He just left. In that moment, he truly didn’t care.

Sean’s not slurring now. “It was a long time coming. It wasn't... We knew that eventually... She knew... Look, I can talk you through it all, if--”

“Nah,” he interrupts, standing and dusting something off himself. Off the backs of his thighs and the elbow that had pressed against the armrest. Rubs his palms awkwardly against his clothes, her blood on his hands. “Just had to ask,” he mutters, already heading for the door with the sound of the man standing up behind him.

Sean calls, “Stay awhile, J. Lemme make you a coffee.” But Jordan’s already at the door, calling “I’m good” over his shoulder as he turns the handle.

God knows what the fuck possesses him, but Sean shouts up again then, tells him from a couple paces back, “It ain’t your fault, Jordan!”

The windows rattle when he slams the door behind himself. Don’t even sound like real glass as they tremble against the panes. Some cheap plastic. He makes quick work of the steps, furious as he paces back to his car where the smell of more death, a different death, fills the space right from the driver's seat to the trunk where his belongings are crammed into the space that somebody else’s belongings once were.

That’s it, then. That’s everyone. His whole family, anyone that’s ever really come fucking close. That’s all of them. What’s funny is that Jordan knew she was dead, and he knew it wasn’t his fault and now... Now it’s all fucking flipped. She’s dead. How the fuck--

It’s not until Jordan reaches a red light, a couple yards from a church he only ever visited twice, that he realises how his chest burns, the air in his car full of smoke. Something else burns his eyes. Acidic, like vinegar, and he feels something crawling over his arms and a hand soothing through his hair and gold jewellery cutting into his skin and he smacks at the fingertips getting under his skin.

“Are you there?”

The light’s on green. There’s a car behind him, the driver punching the horn as Jordan sinks back into his seat, hands off the wheel, eyes on that church, Spencer on the line.

She’s dead. It’s not his fault. Damn fucking right it ain’t.

“Jordan. Are you okay?”

Jordan kicks back into gear, moving along the road again, taking a right into a big, gritted parking lot. He chokes as his car jolts to a stop, dust rising around the wheels, smoke rising inside. He opens his mouth to speak but something... A groan. A choked breath as he breaks through the surface.

She knew.

And what the fuck does that mean? That she’d been killing herself the whole time? Well, that’s not news. He fucking refuses to believe she was doing that shit outa sadness. She just didn’t know anything else. Nothing ever lived up to the euphoria of a hit, that’s all it was. No kid, no amount of money, no life. Nothing.

Curly left a note the first time. That’s what it means to know. It ain’t that his mother didn’t know, she just didn’t fucking care.

Curly always told him he was lonely. Always asked if he loved him. Never said sorry. Said I love you instead until it was time to write it down. I’m sorry. Jordan told him never again. Never, ever say those two words again after he had to read it on that paper. He never did. Not until it held the same weight again. His last letter after he stopped smiling knowingly when J visited him.

“Where are you? I’m coming. Who are you with right now? Let me just--”

He’s crying like a fucking baby, choking and snotting and spitting and heaving because he told himself she was dead. He knew she was dead. Thought he knew. Maybe it felt too fucking obvious to be true. Shit, he fucking hates her. He travelled miles to get the fuck away from her and she still managed to leave him one last fucking time.

Travelled fucking miles away and now she’s dead and he’s suddenly so alone that he feels it. It’s psychical, shrinking smaller and smaller, or maybe the world is bigger. Maybe just the state. “I’m alone,” he finally responds, raw and muffled against this forearms, hands tangled in the hair at the top of his head.

“Are you drunk? You’re scaring me.”

“I have to tell you something.”

There's shuffling over the line, Spencer muttering something, hand over the microphone before he’s back again. “Where are you? I’m coming. Tell me when I get--”

“L-listen.” He breathes through it, his heart heaving now that it’s only the size of a quarter, fingers numb as his hands shrink, his shrinking heart puling a pulse through his palms. “Listen to me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t-- Whatever it is, just wait. Okay? Wait.”

“I’m alone,” he tells him again through another sob and he swears his lungs must be no bigger than dimes. “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Nothing. I’m getting into my car right now. Tell me where to go.”

There’s this whooshing sound, like waves or thunder or something. He doesn’t mean to bark at him like he does, torn open with fear or anger or something completely different. “You can’t fucking tell anyone!”

“Of course,” Spencer says before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, and his car growls to life. “I’m coming alone.” That’s not what he means. “It’s just me.”

“He killed himself,” he chokes, speaking into his hands, his face and palms wet. His nose is bleeding-- is his nose bleeding? Jordan checks his palms and they’re clean. Touches his nose. Clean.

There’s so much blood on his hands.

I love you. The words are scratched into the steering wheel. Only small and harder to see now the edges have smoothed out. Curly wasn’t on anything that night. He was tired and happy. Talking about the stars and his family and scratching nonsense into the wheel with an old pen that didn’t work anymore. Beneath it, in the glove compartment, all of his CDs are still there. I love you. J had scratched it into one of the many mixtapes long before Curly used the same pen on the car. I love y- and then Curls said it out loud before he got to the end of it.

In his letter after his dad died, when Jordan told him they weren’t moving to England, Curly wrote I’m sorry. I love you so much, I’m so sorry. And then almost two years passed before he wrote those words out again. I love you. I miss you so much I’m so sorry. His writing was slanted like it is on the dashboard. Shrinking like Jordan’s organs are now. By the time the letter got to him, he’d been mourning for days.

“I love you too. It’s okay, I-- Jordan, you’re freaking me the fuck out.” Spencer’s voice is muffled under his car engine and the growling thunder- water- whatever it is “Talk to me, please, or I’m calling the police. Do you hear me? I’ll call the police if you don’t--”

“My mom died.”

Something happens. His ears pop or the weather changes or he and the car and his hands and lungs and heart are life-sized again. The smoke in the air clears out and the hands tickling his skin are gone.

“Where are you?”

Jordan says, “Brockton. I’m just. I’m at the church.”

He doesn’t even know where his phone is, but Spencer’s voice says, “okay, I’ll-- I’ll call you back. I’ll be there.”

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Breathe {1}

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: This started out at Stucky, hardcore stucky, then I watched episode 6 and now I cannot get out of the SamBucky hole I dug…. This is probably not going to be very canon compliant, because, I am garbage with being canon compliant. To writers who can be canon compliant and give such good stories, can you teach me your ways?

Summary: Bucky struggled with the modern world, with becoming himself again, he always thought that Steve would be with him forever. Then Steve went back to the past and Bucky was left behind. Steve died of old age and is the Major Character Death. Unrequited Stucky, eventual SamBucky.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Self Harm, Swears, Angst, Grief,

Word Count: 1,883

Bucky drove his car down the winding road, his mind was spinning. Steve was gone, he went back to the past. Till the end of the line. He heard on repeat in his head as he continued on his way to his apartment. He cursed that damn sentence, Bucky thought it had meant something, but now, it felt empty. He kept thinking about Steve’s face, not his Steve, old Steve. He had lived his life, a life he chose, away from the fight. Bucky always thought he would be with him and they would grow old in this new time. But Steve had chosen a different path, he had chosen Peggy. Bucky’s heart tightened as he continued driving away from the lake, from Steve.

Bucky opened the window and took a deep breath as the air hit his face. It felt like the air barely touched his lungs, like he forgot how to breathe. The radio started playing some kind of sad song, at least in terms of modern music. He felt the tears falling down his face. How was he supposed to continue, who was he supposed to be? How was he supposed to survive? The only thing he knew in this new time was Steve and he was gone. A rush of air passed through his mouth as he remembered all those years ago, almost a damn century, when they lived in that shitty apartment in Brooklyn.

“Steve, c’mon, you gotta eat.” Bucky urged the other man who was curled on the bed.

“Don’t wanna.” The blonde muttered.

“Dammit punk, eat something.” Bucky snapped, tossing the plate of toast onto the small stand next to Steve’s bed. Bucky was worried, he was used to Steve getting sick, every temperature change as a result of the factory started producing just a bit more smoke. The minute his breathing changed, Bucky knew.

Steve pouted and reached for the toast, he started nibbling on a corner. “Happy?” He asked Bucky.

“Ecstatic.” Bucky retorted, his shoulders relaxing as he watched Steve finish the two pieces of toast.

“You’re gonna be late for work.” Steve mumbled.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and stood, he glanced down at his outfit, it would work for the day. “There’s lunch in the fridge. Get some water.” He shuffled himself to the door, giving one final glance to the man lying in bed. Bucky’s heart felt heavy as he walked to work, he just wanted to stop seeing Steve sick. When Steve was sick, he was a shell of himself. He wasn’t the punk picking fights with guys bigger than himself, standing up for the little guys. He was just there.

Bucky tried to shake the memories away, but they wouldn’t stop. He pulled over to the side of the road, tears streaming down his face as he the memories kept coming.

“Stevie, you got bigger.” Bucky said in a haze, looking at the six foot, broad shouldered man in front of him. If he hadn’t known his voice so well, he would have thought he was hallucinating, hell he probably was. He let Steve bear his weight as he pulled him from the chair with the needles.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Steve jibed back, arm securely around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s head rolled to the side and he got a good look at Steve, Steve’s eyes flicked over to his for a second and Bucky knew, he wasn’t hallucinating. Steve was here, and Steve had changed.

Then they were thrown into battle, the Howling Commandos and Captain America. It was surreal, seeing that scrawny punk leading men, leading him, into battle as the broad shouldered, golden symbol of America. But it felt right, Steve was meant to do good in the world, he was meant to change it. And Bucky would be at his side, until the end of the line, he just hadn’t realized how close the end of the line was going to be.

“This payback for me making you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?” Bucky asked, eyes tracking the train.

“Now what would give you that idea?” Steve asked with a wink as he jumped on the line to the train.

Then the plan went wrong and all Bucky saw was Steve’s face as he fell from the train. I’m sorry punk. He thought just before his body hit the snow.

When he woke up it wasn’t the 40s anymore, he wasn’t Bucky anymore, he was the Winter Soldier. His time at HYDRA ate away at his mind, freezing, thawing, fighting, freezing. It was all he could remember, then he was sent to kill

The day Steve fought him for the first time, Bucky couldn’t get the man on the bridge out of his mind. The blonde, he knew him, or had known him. He was trying to place him, he wasn’t a hit, or a former Hydra agent. He wasn’t a scientist. He was different, his presence didn’t make him feel like they did, he made him feel comfortable, safe. Had he even known those feelings?

“That man, on the bridge, I knew him.” Bucky whispered as the Hydra scientists shoved the mouthguard into his mouth. “I knew him.” Who was he, God, he knew him, he did. His name was on the tip of his tongue.

“Wipe him.” The scientist growled.

Bucky’s muscles tensed as the machine began. “Steve!” Electricity cracked through his body, tearing through his mind, a flash of golden hair raced through his mind then it was gone. The machine kicked off and Bucky relaxed. “Ready to comply.”

Again the Soldier was sent on a mission, kill Steve Rogers. He started in on the other man, punching at the flashes of red, white, and blue. The helicarrier around them was burning, SHIELD was burning. The Soldier fought in a fury, aggressively attacking the other man. Giving blow after blow until the other man’s helmet was knocked off and his face bloddy, but his blue eyes pierced into the Soldier’s mind.

“I won’t fight you.” The man said and threw his shield aside.

Bucky tilted his head. Destroy. The Soldier snarled, Bucky began punching the man. Destroy. His fist stopped next to his ear. Steve? Bucky’s voice asked in his head, it was a quiet voice, but he hadn’t heard it in so long. Destroy. The Soldier snarled, louder, Bucky’s eyes widened in horror as the man fell into the water. Steve.

Bucky pulled Steve from the water, God, please let him be breathing. He thought to himself as he tossed him onto the bank. He put his ear next to Steve’s and heard the other man start breathing, his heart fluttered. But that didn’t matter Steve was still breathing, and he remembered who he was. James Buchanan Barnes.

He kept on the run, it would be safe that way. Steve would be safe, because it didn’t matter what happened to him, but Steve would be safe. It was a constant battle, remembering to be himself. The Soldier had become quieter, but he wasn’t gone. He still took up headspace.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this to you.” Bucky murmured from his spot in the quinjet.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Steve argued.

“I know, but I did it.” Bucky answered, thinking about all the pain he had caused, for so many people. Did it really matter if he had a choice?

Then he was in Wakanda, sitting outside the cryotubes. Steve was calm and distant, he had tried to put up a fight with Bucky on his plan to go under, at least until Shuri could override the Winter Soldier programming.

“Freeze me again.” Bucky murmured, he saw the pain in Steve’s eyes. “I can’t trust my mind.” I’m a danger to you.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “We can help….”

“Steve, this is what I want.” Bucky stated.

Steve sighed and nodded. The last face Bucky saw was Steve, their eyes met for a second but Steve broke the eye contact and Bucky closed his eyes as he went under, he felt a small tug at his heart before he went under.

Bucky’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, broken sobs fell from his lips as the tears continued to flow. Steve had told him of his plan to pass on the shield to Sam, but Bucky always assumed that meant that they would retire, together. He hadn’t told him the whole plan, maybe that was on purpose.He turned as he a car pull up next to him, he pulled his eyes from the floor and looked up to see Sam Wilson at his passenger door his car. He rolled down the window, wiping at his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Sam murmured.

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks.”

Sam shook his head, a small smile on his lips, he pulled the passenger door open and slid into the seat next to Bucky. Sam was silent for a moment. “Did you know?”

Bucky sighed, “I knew that he was going to give you the shield. That’s the only thing I knew.”

Sam nodded, glancing over at the man sitting in the drivers seat. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, he had so many assumptions about why Bucky was crying in his car, but which one was the real reason? He bit his lip before he spoke. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. Sometimes I still feel like breathing is impossible without him. But I know that they wouldn’t want me to stop living just because they aren’t around anymore.” Sam watched the other man, who was refusing to look at him.

Bucky stared at his hands, still clenched around the steering wheel, he probably left finger dents with his vibranium arm. His breathing had evened out. “I don’t know what to be, who, without him.”

Sam tapped his fingers on his thighs, “You know, when I met Steve, he couldn’t stop telling me about this guy he knew named James Buchanan Barnes. His best friend, bit of a smart ass.” Sam chuckled, causing Bucky to glance over at him. “He honestly wouldn’t shut up about him, he seemed like a good guy. Him, I’d like to get to know.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond and remained silent. Sam gave him a small smile. “Don’t be a stranger.” Sam clapped his hand on Bucky’s shoulder then exited the car, Bucky watched him drive away and felt the tightness returning to his chest. He drove back to his apartment in Brooklyn in silence. His mind wandered from Steve to Sam.

Bucky didn’t know him very long, he was a decent fighter, not that he would tell him that to his face. Steve respected him, enough to pass on the shield to him, that had weight to it. Don’t be a stranger. Sam’s voice echoed in his mind as he entered the apartment, he glanced around the place. It was nice, but it didn’t feel like home. He sighed and made his way to the bedroom, he stripped and changed into sweatpants. He laid on his back, he stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes, then he heard Sam’s voice in his mind. Him, I’d like to meet.

[alphawitchnyxx]

Cold Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Summary: The first snowfall of winter happens before Geralt and Jaskier make it up to Kaer Morhen for the season. The cold makes the heart grow fonder.

Author’s Note: This is just more fluff because honestly I’m in a fluffy mood these days because the world is in shambles and I need something to make me feel emotions other than rage. Not an established relationship, love confessions. Also available on AO3!

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The cave wasn’t the greatest shelter, but it was going to have to work. Geralt and Jaskier had been making great time back to the witchers’ keep for the winter season but a snowstorm had caught them off-guard, forcing them off of the Path to find shelter.

“G….g…g…Ger…rr…ralt..ttt,” Jaskier chattered, his whole body quivering. His skin was pale, his lips a light shade of blue, his usually bright eyes dulled with the early signs of hypothermia. “I….I’m f..f…f…fre…freezing.”

Geralt frowned, his brow furrowing. He was definitely chilled, but his mutations protected him against the worst of the biting wind. He knew that if he didn’t get Jaskier warm soon, the bard wouldn’t survive the night. He chewed his lip as he gathered some wood from outside the cave, piling it high before casting a quick Igni, the wood bursting into flame. “Sit by the fire, Jaskier,” he said as he dug out his heavy winter cloak to drape over Jaskier’s shoulders.

Jaskier nodded, sitting as close to the fire as he could, his back against the back wall of the cave. The weight of Geralt’s cloak over his shoulders helped to calm his shivering, but he was still cold. “Ger…Geralt…still cold.”

Geralt nodded, coming to sit behind him. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s body, pulling them together. He pressed his nose to the crown of the bards’ head, inhaling deeply. His scent was dulled and his pulse was sluggish, making Geralt panic. Jaskier needed something more.

“Take off your clothes,” Geralt said bluntly.

Jaskier turned to stare at him, mouth agape. “Th…that s...s…seems wrong,” he stuttered.

Geralt was already stripping off his armor as he looked at the bard. He looked so fragile like this, his skin pale and clammy against the bitter cold of the air around them.

“Survival basics. We take off our clothes and huddle together and share body heat,” the witcher responded. “I’ll help you.” He laid out their bedrolls, draping Roach’s saddle blanket over them to provide a buffer from the cold stone cave. When he was satisfied, he moved to Jaskier, gently picking him up and holding him to his chest. He could feel the bard shaking in his arms and he swallowed roughly. He could feel a pit of fear settling in his stomach as he set Jaskier down and began stripping him down, moving as quickly as possible without shredding any of the clothing.

Once they were both stripped down to their smallclothes, Geralt wrapped both of them in the cloaks and whatever spare blankets he could find in their packs. He kept Jaskier close, pressing the bard’s chest to his own. “It’s going to be okay, Julek,” he whispered, his calloused fingers gently rubbing small circles into Jaskier’s back.

“Di…didn’t think y…you r…r…reme…membered th..that n..na..name,” Jaskier said, clinging to Geralt for dear life. He could feel his temperature slowly rising as he remained curled up against Geralt, the white-haired man emanating what seemed like an unnatural amount of body heat. “I think…I only t…t…told you a..about th..that name once. Y…you re…really do listen, ”he said, sighing softly as his shivering began to slow before stopping completely.

Geralt smiled as Jaskier settled in his arms, inhaling deeply through his nose. Jaskier was starting to smell like himself again, the warm cinnamon and buttercup scent filling his nose. It was still muted but it was stronger than before. He looked down and saw that there was the slightest hint of color returning to his cheeks and lips. “I always listen,” he said quietly, burying his face against Jaskier’s hair.

The cave fell into silence and Geralt swallowed roughly. He had hoped he’d never have to actually face his emotions, but almost losing Jaskier to hypothermia had made him realize that Jaskier was painfully and mortally human and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost him to something as stupid as hypothermia.  

He knew he had feelings for the young bard, and it was only in the past few weeks that he labelled those emotions as love. He could even pinpoint the exact day: it was the day he invited Jaskier to winter with him at Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had been so excited to finally see his home and as Geralt listened to him ramble on about meeting Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir at last, he realized that he cared more for Jaskier than he had about anyone in a very, very long time. That was the moment he knew he loved his bard.

“Really?” Jaskier’s quiet question pierced though the silence like a dagger. He had stopped shaking and his teeth were no longer chattering. The feeling had returned to his extremities and he no longer felt like he was on death’s doorstep.

“Really,” Geralt responded. “In the beginning, all those years ago leaving Posada, I would tune you out during the day. But then I got…I got used to hearing your voice. I liked hearing it, even if I didn’t care much for...for what you were saying,” he admitted. “It got to the point where I’d actively listen to you, even if I didn’t respond. And all those winters apart, the times we’d separate….the silence was unbearable. And…it wasn’t until I asked you to…to come to Kaer Morhen this year that I realized…that…I love you” he said quietly. His chest felt like someone was squeezing it, and he held his breath as he waited for Jaskier to say something, anything, back.

They lay in silence again, the tightening feeling in his chest threatening to shatter his ribs and break heart.

“Jaskier,” he started, prepared to tell the bard that if he hated him or didn’t reciprocate those feelings he’d bring him back down to Ard Carriagh and give him all his remaining coin and walk back up the mountain alone if that’s what would please him. He never got the chance because suddenly his lips were captured in a kiss.

Kissing Jaskier wasn’t like any other kiss Geralt had ever had. Whores didn’t kiss him when he visited brothels, and the kisses he shared with Yennefer were aggressive and full of teeth and anger. Jaskier’s lips were soft, and Geralt could taste the remnants of the spices from their lunch. He pulled back gently, his amber eyes meeting with cerulean ones. “I love you so much, Jaskier, and if you don’t love me back or if you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll carry you back down this mountain and let you go on and live your life,” he said, fingers coming up to brush his chestnut hair from his face.

“Gods, Geralt, I’ve been in love with you for ages. I never said anything because I figured I’d never be able to hold your affections. I’m just a human bard, you’re a witcher, why would you want me?” Jaskier’s voice was light but laced with sadness. “Besides, you had Yennefer, and I can’t compete with a sorceress.”

Geralt pulled him in, kissing him again. “You are a hundred times better than Yennefer,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “Yennefer was just…I don’t know, there? I don’t love her, I never truly did. I love you, Julek. And I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me.”

Jaskier smiled, his hand snaking up to gently cup Geralt’s face. He held it there for a moment, their eyes locked onto each other with reverence and adoration. “You may love me until the end of time, Geralt of Rivia, and I shall love you until my dying breath.”

Geralt breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s forehead. “I’m glad you feel the same way. I don’t know how I would have coped…what I would have done if you had died tonight without ever knowing…without ever hearing that I love you.”

Jaskier hummed softly in response, nestling his head into Geralt’s chest. “I’m happy you told me. I’m even happier that you saved me from freezing to death.” He chuckled softly before yawning, flexing his muscles underneath their cocoon of cloaks.

Geralt’s chest rumbled softly with laughter. “Sleep, Jas. I promise I’ll be right here in the morning.”

The bard nodded, drifting off to sleep in the arms of his witcher. Geralt listened to his heart rate and breathing slow down and even out, relaxing when he heard Jaskier snoring in his arms. When he was sure that the bard was asleep and not in danger, he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him. And when he opened his eyes again, Jaskier was still there, pressed against him and flushed pink with warmth and life, and he knew that things were going to work out just fine.

[lokitrashfan]

AN: Okay this one is really late and I'm soooo sorry. I was really busy and I could not find a moment to write. I am really sorry and I hope it doesn't happen again. Anyway I hope you like it!

Warnings: Torture and heated moments, but nothing explicit! It is towards the end so you can skip the last two paragrafs if you want!

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged or untagged just ask me!) @twhiddlestonsstuff @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @deligthfulheartdream @fckwkndd

Two days after the Avengers had returned and Winter could feel how much everything had changed. Loki and her had not talked again. They had been avoiding each other. The weight of the almost kiss on their heads. Loki was desperate to put an end to his friendship with Winter. He could not let a mortal change his life. Even if he was equally desperate to go to her and hold her, kiss her, and let her turn his life upside down. She had been here for only a month but he could feel how everything had changed. 

Winter wanted to talk with Loki. He was her friend, he knew her secrets. She enjoyed having someone to talk to. And she did not know if everything had changed because of the almost kiss or because of the strange conversation she heard between Loki and his brother. 

It had been the same day the Avengers returned, after a successful mission they had wanted to go to a bar, have some drinks and celebrate their success. It was then when Thor approached Loki, just outside the door of the kitchen, where Winter had been silently making a sandwich. 

“Want to come with us brother?” Thor had asked “We want to celebrate with everyone, and you had been helpful with your knowledge”

“Well, it would be refreshing to go outside the compound for once. But are you sure that everyone wants me there?” 

“You are my brother, and you have proved again and again that you are deserving of our trust. You have helped us with this mission with your research, and I’m sure everyone can appreciate your change.”

“Then I will come. I was going to tell Winter if she wanted to do something, but I’m sure she will want to come too”

“Actually…” Thor started “She can’t. She has only been here for a month and it’s not wise to let her go outside. I know you are very close with her, but she is dangerous. We don’t know who she is loyal to.”

“But she is harmless…”

“She seems harmless, yes. But Loki, even if she is, she is from Hydra, we can’t risk it.” Thor paused. Winter was still listening, more interested than ever. “Loki, I know you had found a good friend in her, but everyone thinks it can be dangerous. She is unstable. She might be using you. Or maybe you are right and she is harmless, and you two can be with each other. But only time will tell.”

“She’s not using me, did you forget I am the God of lies? It’s not like a simple mortal could fool me.” Loki sounded agitated, angry. “She is good company, that’s all, we are nothing more than two prisoners in a palace. She means nothing.” 

Then Loki disappeared in his room, and didn’t come out anymore. Even when he and Winter were alone again in the compound. 

Winter thought about it again and again. She wanted to know what had changed. He didn’t leave his room. Even at night when they used to spend time together in the kitchen. Winter had gone to his room two times, but left after thinking about what to say. After all, if he did not want to be her friend, he had the right to do it. But she wanted some explanation. 

Then she found herself at his door again. She was determined to talk to him. Or at least to make him listen. He had promised to keep her secrets, to help her, and now he was avoiding her. She slowly knocked, uncertain of what she would say. She waited and the only response she had was silence. She knocked again, furious. It wasn’t fair, they were friends. 

Loki was in his bed, praying that she would just go away, even if he wanted to open the door and take her in his arms. He needed her to go away and forget about him, because he could not bring himself to do it. How could he ever forget that girl? She was all warmth and good things, the way she made him feel was something from another world. She was at his door, waiting for him. She knocked again and he had to get up and open the door. Maybe he was not as strong as he thought, because when he saw her face he almost fell to his knees. 

“Loki” She started, still not sure what to say. “I need you, I want to remember more.” It was a stupid idea. Winter knew that her lost memories could only bring pain, but maybe it was the only way Loki would talk to her.

“Okay,” he said moving to the side to let her enter his room. He didn’t want to do it, knowing that once he had her between his hands it would be impossible for him to let go. But he could not deny her. He knew the moment he opened the door that he would do anything for her.

They sat on his bed and he slowly reached her face. “Are you ready?” He asked. All she did was nod, and then he started.

Winter was in a cell. A soldier guarding her door. she was furious, Hydra has tricked them. All her friends were imprisoned too. 

When Hydra had offered their help it had been marvelous. Their group wanted to stop the government, they wanted a different future for their country, they wanted to end with the corrupt politics that killed people for thinking differently. Hydra offered help, weapons, strategies. And it worked, until they discovered Hydra’s plan. Help the radical groups become a treat to the government, only to infiltrate the government, help them get rid of the radical groups and gain control of the country. 

Now they were imprisoned in a Hydra facility, waiting for death. 

After all, who would care for the terrorists? That’s what they had been called. Winter was scared and angry, really angry. She shouted and attacked the guard at her door, that is when the scientist arrived. He had a mousy face, looking at her through the tiny glasses in his nose.

“She will be useful after all,” he said. 

They took her to another room, strapping her into a chair. 

“Let’s start erasing her memories, the serum has been successful.”

What serum? she thought. Did they give her something when she wasn’t aware? But her thinking was erased when the pain started. A light blinded her as painful waves invaded her brain. She could not think. All she could do was scream. She heard a machine somewhere in the room emit horrible sounds.

“Stop it, stop it!” someone was saying.

“It is a mistake, it’s overheating!”

“Disconnect it, now!”

Winter was screaming, the pain was horrible, she was almost passed out when it stopped. 

“What do we do now?”

“Freeze her before she regains enough strength. We’ll have to see if we can do something with her, after all the serum was successful. But for now we have another subject to test.”

Winter was completely still when Loki stopped. She could still feel the pain of her memories. Loki was silent as he removed his hands. 

“Valerie…” he spoke softly, almost a whisper. “I think something went wrong when they tried to erase your memory. I think you were supposed to be the first Winter Soldier, even before Barnes.”

Winter could not speak, tears scaping her eyes even if she did not want to cry. 

“I can’t reach anything else, I think everything else is lost.” Loki wanted to give her something to be happy, maybe a memory of her family, but could not reach anything else. After that last memory everything else was blank. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” She said suddenly, rage was building inside her. It had been two days without Loki, but it had felt like ten years of being alone. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you” He started, not sure what to say. How could he explain that he yearned for so much it was painful? How could he tell her that he was feeling something he was not prepared for?” 

“Then tell me!” Winter said as she got up from the bed. “Tell me why you helped me only to abandon me after Thor told you I was dangerous!” She was screaming. “I heard you talking to him! I heard you say I mean nothing! Did I mean nothing all the night we spent together? Did I mean nothing when you showed me that spot by the river? Did I mean nothing when you showed me your true self?” 

Winter was so furious, she had lost everything, her memories, her family, her friends. She did not want to lose Loki too, not without fighting. 

“Stop!” He screamed. “You can’t understand it! You can’t understand what it means to be friends! Do you think the Avengers would approve it? Two dangerous prisoners being friends?”

“Wanda understands it, but it doesn't matter, this is between us. If you are so scared about what the heroes will think…”

She could not say anything else. Loki had grabbed her face and was kissing her. Loki had dreamed about it since he had touched her for the first time. He let her warmth invade him. He wanted to burn in her fire. 

At first she was as still as a statue, then she started moving her lips against his. The fury she felt moments ago translating into the kiss. Her hands reached him, bringing him closer. His cold lips traveled to her neck and she became undone under his touch. Loki wanted to worship every part of her body and Winter wanted to feel his touch. 

“Valerie” He said against her neck, and as he said it, Loki realised that Winter had taken over his heart.