#one word from a kid and im hunting someone down

[incorrect-batfam-quotes-mostly]

I've been brainstorming future majors or jobs I've considered and there's a concerning ammount of "I might end up killing someone" on the cons lists

[everythingne]

Little Miss Wingwoman - LN4

With baby Verstappen-Piquet on the way, Penelope's nanny needs a place to move into as she becomes an almost full time employee of the family. No better place than Lando's spare bedroom, only a few floors down from her job, right?

warnings/notes: none particularly? this might be like five parts or two parts, im not sure yet :D!

next part

Penelope's plan to get her two favorite people to fall in love begins to fall into place.

See, Penelope was smart. Kelly made sure she was creative and book smart while Max made sure she had the confidence to speak her mind. Penelope got all she wanted, within reason, spoiled just enough, worked for what she had to. Danced, played, sang, baked... she was kid, but she was smart. She could do it all herself if she wasn't a huge momma and daddy's girl. (Bonus-daddy's girl? She hadn't worked out the wording on that one yet.)

But, on the busy days, you visited.

Taking a summer gig to nanny in your last years of school, you didn't expect to be placed within the Verstappen-Piquet household. Two days in, you never wanted to leave, and Penelope--so so young back then, had refused to let you go. Now, a few years later, you traveled around with the family when needed. Most of the time, staying back to look over the apartment and the cats while they went around.

You were more so an extra set of hands for Kelly, someone who could run and get groceries before dinner, run Penelope to and from practices or accompany her to weekends with her father (the Kyvat's adored you as well), or someone who could stay back with Penelope for date nights or take her out for nights in.

After a few years of steady rhythm, everything was shaken up with baby Verstappen-Piquet on the horizon. A lot of changes needing to be made to prepare for the child, especially the further along Kelly was getting--appointments and classes and errands. A set of helping hands, especially when Max had to go off for work, was almost necessary.

But it was impossible to find apartments in Monaco on your budget. And with the spare room you had been using turning to a nursery for the little bugger coming along, you didn't have the luxury of sleeping in your employers home much longer.

And so, the hunt began.

Penelope had heard the news from Max, offhandedly mentioning it to Daniel during a padel game. The Australian didn't have space for you, as much as he'd grown to love your presence. A week later, he'd run into Charles while out getting dinner with P, and asked if he or Alexandra knew anywhere while Penelope pretended to be distracted by Leo. A week after that, Kelly had gone out to lunch with a bunch of her friends in the and discussed it openly.

A month in, Lando visited to watch Penelope while Kelly and Max went off to a doctor's appointment. Usually, you would stop by, but you were off on an early holiday vacation with family. The way Lando joked with Max, the easy smile on his lips, the awkward stumbles and laughter through his words... it was just like you could be.

Then, when Max asks, Lando mentions having a spare room he'd have to clean out. And the way Lando smiles when Penelope makes her way over to give him a hug, promising Max he'll keep her in line while the two of them are gone makes an idea flare in Penelope's head.

Lando needed a roommate, and you needed a place to stay. So, obviously, you were an absolutely perfect pair, right? It wasn't a new idea to her, you and Lando had met a few times over the course of the years you'd watched her. Mainly for short moments at whatever grand prix she'd begged you to come to, and the two of you seemed to get along...

And, she thinks you're both single. So, Penelope enacted stage one of her master wing(wo)man plan: getting you to move in with Lando.

While Penelope was scheming, browsing through YouTube for videos full of cutesy RomCom ideas, Lando was saying goodbye to Max and Kelly--wishing them luck, and then shutting the door behind him. He made quick work of sneaking a popcorn bag out of his backpack, popping it in the microwave while he scrolled through the countless movies on their smart TV--finding the perfect one for Penelope to watch.

The girl was engrossed, headphones shoved over her ears, watching a 'my top ten romantic moments in movies' compilation, but the smell of buttery goodness made her lift her head.

Lando smiles, holding out a bowl for her, "Too busy watching that for some old fashioned Disney?"

Glancing to the screen, Frozen 2 was paused on the opening screen, and Penelope tutted, "This came out in 2019."

"But thats like forever ago. Were you even born yet?" Lando smirks and Penelope takes the bowl from him with a scowl, but obliges to sit next to him on the couch, putting her iPad away for now, as Lando started the movie up.

But as Elsa is working to tame the Nøkk, Penelope lets out a soft sigh. Popcorn gone, and interest ruined. She wants to get back to studying. She has all winter break to make this love story happen, and with Lando and Max possibly going back for testing as early as January 3rd, she needs to act fast.

Lando glances over from where he's been idly answering emails between watching the movie, his own bowl empty. Penelope pouts while watching the movie, and he hums, looking at her.

"You're not even watching the coolest scene," Lando chimed softly, remembering the countless times little Mila would screech at the TV when she was really young. Penelope just huffed again, and he found himself curiously laying his head on his palm, "isn't this your favorite part?"

"No." Penelope deadpans, sighing again and dramatically slides off the couch onto her back and groans. She knows its a bit overkill, but its also Lando. He was a bit dramatic too. Penelope ends up closing her eyes for more drama as Sassy jumps off the couch and sniffs her head before trying to sneak a bite of corn kernels.

Lando reaches out and waves Sassy away, earning him a hiss and a sulk from the bengal as she stalks off to a far corner in the room. He slides the rest of his way out of the chair, hovering by Penelope's side before asking softly,

"What'sa matter, P?"

Penelope blinks open one eye at his approach, muttering, "The horse thing is Yn's favorite part of the movie."

"Yn?" Lando pops down on the floor next to her, pausing the movie on the TV, "is she one of your friends from dance?

"No, Yn is my nanny." Penelope sits up, a mischievous thought entering her mind, "but she doesn't have a place to live, so she's not my nanny now. Because she can't live in Monaco."

"Oh, that's a shame. D'ya miss her?" Lando asks softly and Penelope nods, leaning over to grab her iPad, pulling up a photo of the two of them squished together into the camera. Lando's smile tells Penelope all she needs to know, obviously he's totally in love with her, that's why he's grinning like that.

"That's a cute photo, P." Lando says. Jackpot. Shifting to lay on his stomach, Lando shuts his laptop on the couch and Penelope spends the rest of their three hour time talking non-stop about you to Lando. Practically making you sound like a damn angel rebirthed onto this Earth, shoving photos of you in his face, giggling like a mad man whenever he asks a question.

Penelope makes sure to have him follow your Instagram, grinning like a madwoman when he agrees to do so. When Max and Kelly come back, Lando stays for dinner, where Kelly informs Penelope you'll be visiting for a few days to do some apartment hunting.

Max seems to remember Lando lives alone and asks once more.

"I could clean the room out if she needs it," Lando says a bit more enthusiastically now. Penelope pats herself on the back as he says, "When Yn gets here, she can come over and take a look--just, just--just remind me to clean up. It's a bit messy."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, mate." Max grins and Lando sheepishly tries to defend himself while Kelly watches with a small smile, looking over to where Penelope eagerly grins.

A few days later, you fly in to Monaco. When the Verstappen-Piquet family stops by to visit, you greet them with tight hugs. Maneuvering around your big suitcase laying on the floor, you surprise Max and Kelly with a gift of a few baby items as well as some other much needed items for the couple. Namely, a gift card to Penelope's favorite store, which Max prompty hands back to you with the words, "she'd prefer shopping with her older 'sister'" tossed over his shoulder. The two don't stay long, having a flight to catch to the FIA Awards ceremony. So, Penelope stays in your hotel room while Max and Kelly go off, and you give her free reign to do whatever she wishes.

It only takes about ten minutes into you two being alone for Penelope to ask about the apartment search, almost bursting at the seams with a sense of excitement thats rare--even for her.

"Who told you that?" You spin around to poke your head out of the doorway, hands on your hips. You've spent the last twenty minutes trying to organize the tiny bathroom counter to fit most of your cosmetics and other items for the next few weeks you'd be staying here.

"I heard Maxie talking about it." Penelope looks up with big eyes, emphasizing her sad tone, "You aren't gonna live with us anymore?"

Sighing softly, you make your way across the room, sitting down next to a pouting Penelope on the bed, snatching her bottom lip between your fingers and lightly pulling it to make her giggle and roll away as you call, "keep your mouth like that and your face will freeze there forever!"

"It's gonna stay like this because I'm mad!" She groans, forcing back her smile and giggles, and sitting up and crossing her arms. Now overkill pouting to get her point across, "You aren't gonna live with me!"

"P, I don't fit in your place anymore." You sigh softly, laying across the bed and holding out an arm so the child can crawl over to lay against your side, "we gotta make room for the baby."

"We have to change everything for the baby!" Comes the sharp reply you were expecting. Max had warned you Penelope seemed a little snippy recently. While excited to have a little brother or sister, it was obvious Penelope was also feeling left out.

"Penelope," You soothe, rolling onto your side to prop your head up on a hand, "babies are a big change and unlike you and me, they can't take care of themselves. That's why your Momma and Max have to do all these classes, and appointments and everything. They've gotta make sure they're ready for the little thing."

"But the baby isn't even here yet and it's ruining everything!" Penelope laments, curling into your side, "Momma doesn't play anymore, Max is always busy moving stuff around, we haven't even had a movie night recently because Momma's been so tired!"

"I'm sorry, baby." You sigh. Totally unknowingly feeding right into Penelope's carefully laid trap, "you're allowed to be upset, but you have to also understand this is what has to happen."

"Will it go back to normal when the baby gets here?" Penelope looks up and you give her a little shrug, running a hand through her hair,

"Not for a while, baby."

"Can we go back to normal? Even if you don't live with us anymore?" Penelope sits up now, dragging you to join her and you smile, lifting her up to sit right on your lap as you fix up her unruly hair--another sign of Kelly's growing baby bump, the lack of Penelope hair-dos.

"We'll always be the same, and I'm looking at staying nearby. It'll be an adjustment but it won't be awful." You smile, tucking her hair up into a braid, securing it with a little bow at the end, "Wanna go get something to eat? Max gave me back the babysitting allowance card..."

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Please!" Penelope gasps, standing up off your lap and jumping off the bed to grab her bag. A little stuffed cat Jelly Cat bag you think hearing Lando had snagged on a trip recently for the little girl. It's cute, and Penelope smiles when she sees you eyeing it.

"Lando got me this!" She proudly exclaims, holding it up as you slip on your shoes.

"Yeah?" You ask, walking to the door as Penelope bounces behind you, grinning wide enough her cheeks puff up, "you two seem to get along."

"He's really cool! You guys could be friends," Penelope laments, dragging you out of the hotel room once you have your shoes, jacket, and purse securely fastened for her little rollercoaster of a personality, "He thinks you're pretty."

Which, isn't exactly true, but it makes your face warm enough for Penelope as you step into the chilly air.

"Well, thats very kind of him," is your reply as you turn towards the coastline, hosting Penelope up into your arms so you don't have to worry about the curious five year old scurrying off.

You end up at one of Penelope's favorites, Costadoro Social. The place is downright adorable, and you manage to snag a window table. While you order, Penelope gets out only the best pages from her sticker book for the both of you to put together. Once you're both settled in, sandwiches and drinks (yours a coffee and hers a hot chocolate), the crowd mills out of the building. Leaving you and a somewhat familiar couple off in a corner, a third chair at their table yanked out like it's expecting someone to swing by.

As you two start on some winter scene in this very exact ticker book, Penelope rattles off countless stories to you about the weekend in Abu Dhabi. When she gasps, asking to show you the stickers she gave to Lando, you notice the curly headed man at the other table peeks over before turning to his girlfriend to ask something.

She shrugs, and the bell dings on the entry door. The woman behind the counter cheerily greeting the newcomer as you look down to where Penelope proudly shows you a picture Kelly had taken with her and Lando, showing off his stickers.

"They made him go fast and win," Penelope happily says, settling back in her seat. You nod, of course it was the stickers. Not because Lando was a professional, but Penelope looks smug like she'd been the reason for the McLaren WCC, so you let it slide. It's cute.

A Laufey cover of 'I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm' begins to play as you pull out your phone to show Penelope your mothers cats back home, as well as some other photos of the short trip back home.

The man at the table stands, walking over, and the motion catches Penelope's watchful eye as the two men give a short hug to one another--wishing happy holidays. You set your phone down, looking over as you sip your drink, and the dimpled smile of one of the men catches your eye.

He's cute.

He turns, as if feeling your gaze, and before you can jerk back he grins widely, "Hey Pen!"

"Lando!" Penelope squeaks, wiggling out of her chair and bounding over to give him a hug. The two share quick pleasantries and an introduction to Lando's friends--Max and Pietra, before Penelope gasps and runs over to you, "Lando, it's Yn!"

You stand at the mention of your name, hustling over with a sheepish smile as Penelope grabs your hand and drags you over like she'll die if she doesn't get the chance to.

"Hi," you squeak, shaking his awaiting hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penelope talks about you a lot."

His cheeks are rosy as you shake his hand, and a tiny grin pokes at Lando's lips as he nods, "she talks about you a lot, too."

"I told you she was pretty!" Penelope chimes, making Max nearly snort out his coffee while Pietra laughs softly. You and Lando are a bit closer to mortified at Penelope's insistence, and you manage to get her to say goodbye so the group can enjoy their lunch together since she does have dance rehearsal soon.

About two hours or so later, you get back to Max and Kelly's post rehearsal. And while Penelope curls up all about tuckered out from running amuck down the shopping districts, learning new ballet moves, and endlessly mentioning Lando like a lovesick teenager, you pull up your phone and scroll through your feed as Penelope fights off a nap.

It's due time for an Instagram post anyways.

liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, landonorris, and others...

yourusername: back home for the holidays <3

kellypiquet: the absolute best!

user: YESS YN AND PENELOPE CONTENT WILL RETURN

user2: omg that DRESS i need

⤷ yourusername: its an innika choo dress but im not sure if they're even open anymore :( kelly got it for me for my birthday last yr!!

⤷ user2: OMG THANK U ill keep an eye out!!!

maxverstappen: so thats why theres beads all over the carpet?

⤷ yourusername: i wasnt the cat who decided to try and eat them (jimmy)

⤷ maxverstappen: unsurprising

lilymhe: omg !!! we need to meet up! alex and i have been dying to update you on The Lore

⤷ yourusername: please!! ive been dying to see you guys again :(!!

user3: SO CUTE!!

user4: i would die to be living ur life yn

landonorris: penelope seems to keep you busy

⤷ yourusername: you saw her shenanigans today, it only gets worse

⤷ alexalbon: lando what r u doing

⤷ landonorris: ???????

⤷ maxverstappen: 👁️

⤷ landonorris: ???!!!!

You're halfway through helping Penelope with wrapping a christmas present for her dance teacher when Max knocks on the doorway. You turn around, standing when he beckons you over.

"How's Kelly?" You ask softly, knowing she's trying to sleep off a bout of morning sickness. Max shrugs, sipping his Red Bull.

"A bit ill, but she seems to be getting better. Penelope's fine?"

You nod, looking back as Penelope crosses her arms and scowls at all the options for the bow she could put on the bag.

"Lando's cleaned his apartment, finally," Max watches Penelope with a soft look, before turning to you and leaning on the wall with a tired yawn. He's still adjusting from the season, and the early sun dipping behind the buildings wasn't helping his sleep cycle.

"You should go over, take a little tour." Max hums, "You deserve a break from watching P all day."

"It's quite literally what you pay me to do, Max." You laugh softly, but with a few more pushes of insistence you finally agree. He shoots Lando a text to let him know you're on your way down as you grab a pair of Uggs you wear indoors, and your keys so you don't get locked out.

The elevator ride down is short, and you walk into the warm hallway to see Lando down the hall peeking out. He smiles at your approach and holds open the door for you.

"Nice to see you again," He chimes as you enter. It's been about a week since you've seen him, now teetering close to Christmas, and you smile at him.

"Nice to see you too, Lando." You hum, and he brings you to the spare room. It's spacious, with a big window that looks over the entire Monaco bay. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, it's perfect. Everything you could've dreamed of and more. Lando makes sure to show you the ensuite bathroom and large closet.

Everything feels too good to be true, so you quickly ask, "How much would you want me to pay you in rent?"

"Rent?" Lando pauses in the kitchen where he'd offered to get you a soda from his sparse fridge. He shakes his head, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his water bottle, "Max told me your budgets quite small. I figured I could pay rent and you could pay like... utility?"

"That's gotta be like a quarter of what you pay for this place, Lando. I have a good amount saved up!" You protest and he shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Listen, you're honestly doing me a favor. You probably know how to make a house a proper functioning home. I barely know how to not burn leftovers when I reheat them." He chides himself and you break into a tiny laugh, missing the way his face gets rosy at your giggles, "I need a bit of help making this place look... homey. And Max told me you'd be good at that."

"So I'm helping you learn to adult to pay my rent?" You ask and your bluntness makes Lando flush as he rubs the back of his neck and looks down with a shrug.

"If that's okay..?"

"I mean... I'd like to pay, but if you wanna do it this way, fine... But if I end up staying here for a long time, you have to let me help with rent." You hold a hand out like this will seal the deal and Lando grins, his embarrassment forgotten as he darts over to happily shake your hand. You try to ignore how warm his hands are against your cold ones.

"Welcome home, then--oh! I have a spare key for you!" He tries to flash you a charming smile, but the excited expression taking over just makes his face go through far too many expressions in a row. You can't help but laugh, looking around the bare but clearly well loved apartment.

It could use some work, sure, but thats your job now... you suppose.

general tag (open!)

@d3kstar @justalittlejess (jess ur on here now enjoy LMAO)

series specific tag (open!)

@nikfigueiredo

[shurisneakers]

saturn

summary: you die. bucky tries to bring you back (or) close to a year after you die, bucky's desperation finally finds an answer. but it may not be the one he's hoping for.

warnings: angst. death. being revived from death and the processes that follow. sickness. war or something. swearing. there is also fluf here and there

a/n: im drunk as fuck <3 i haven't really looked at this since December. the title is taken from saturn by sleeping at last because i couldn't think of anything better. enjoy <3333333333333

He occasionally catches a glimpse of his face in the lake.

His skin is worn from months of sun damage, splotchy and incorrectly healed. His beard has grown well past the point of respectability, with strands of grey he didn’t realise could sprout from him. Eyes sunken and half-lidded always.

Bucky waits everyday for the reaper to pull him underwater. Every day is another spent on dry, barren land.

_____________

It was closing in on a year and a half. Time moves like aged honey when you're punished, slow and grasping.

He steps off the bed and into the resolute silence of the cabin. There was a hole by his bedroom door after a regrettable night of alcohol. Mead. Something that had his head spinning and bile stuck to the walls of his throat, and of which he doesn't even remember the name of the next morning.

It's all fleeting, anyway. Names, labels, lives.

He cooks himself breakfast on an old pan.  The room is bone-cold, and the floorboards creak when he drags the decades old chair from the dining room to the porch.

Paint peels under his feet, and his toe curls. A dull, faded orchestra of evergreens as far as he can see. He's had a target on his back since he was a kid, always under the gaze of something beyond his understanding. Always making sure he doesn't take a step out of line, or let too much life into his heart.

It's been a while since he's felt that. Like it had finally decided he learnt his lesson, that he wouldn't dare to take a new breath without considering if he deserved it. And so he doesn't wonder if there are irises staring back at him with the same lifelessness with which he watches them, day after day, hour after hour.

The outside cools his blood to a standstill, and he is almost entirely certain he is alone. The vast expanse of an empty sky, bearing no clouds, no birds. Some days, he almost thinks he can feel you when the winds move.

He thinks he's past the point of insane.

__________

His friends are kinder than he is. To a fault, almost. God knows he hasn't given them a reason to be.

After a couple of months of shifting to the middle of nowhere, there are fifteen fucking knocks to the door.

Bucky flings it open, ready to chew someone’s head off. Raging, still in the ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants and socks with holes in them that you swore you would burn. He is armed with a battalion of curses and threats, only for words to die a quick death at the tip of his tongue.

“Hey.”

Bucky's muscles tense to the point where they might crack, but he forces his arm to lower. 

“Been a while,” Sam says, arms crossed over his chest.

He doesn't know how he's hunted him down, given the nature of his disappearance, but Sam was nothing if not determined in his humanity.

With nowhere else to turn, Bucky silently pushes the door open.

________

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Bucky glances around the house. There are cobwebs hanging from each corner he sees. Bulbs coated with dust. Fine china starting to fade with unuse, and utensils slowly beginning to gather rust.

He doesn’t reply. He’s offered him water, but Sam declines.

“You get cell coverage out here?”

“Don’t make a lotta calls,” Bucky’s vocal chords sound like they’re lined with gravel.

“We noticed.” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Talked to Dr. Canmore?"

"Yep." Not since the psychiatrist was forced to clear him after Bucky showed no signs of violence, or returning back to him. To him, that concluded the purpose of their relationship.

"And?"

"There's nothing to say, Sam," he rebukes, gruff. "'M fine."

Sam looks like wants to raise an eyebrow, but the patience he's grown over the years from dealing with those worse than the mess setting in front of him disallows him. "Get enough food?"

Bucky flashes him a thumbs-up, and feels the onset of a migraine.

"Sunlight? Water?"

"'M not a fuckin' plan--" he begins harshly, but clears his throat. "You?"

"Doin' alright." Sam shrugs. "Been training a buncha new recruits, getting in touch with new ones. Superheroes are poppin' up all over the place. Got a girl saying she can control squirrels."

Bucky nods absent-mindedly, picking at the hem of his shirt. He thinks you would have found that amusing, considering that you thought Scott Lang's schtick was a bit on-the-nose too.

“Do you want to?”

Bucky sharply shifts back into focus. “What?”

“Help out,” Sam clarifies. “Recruit, train.”

Bucky’s jaw inadvertently tightens. “No,” he says sharply.

"Could be good for you."

""M done with that life." 

Sam's eyes reflect a reality that's different, but he still relents, "Okay. Whatever works for you."

Bucky can’t say he retired, exactly. He’d unceremoniously quit and had gone AWOL, but it had never been on paper. SHIELD was gracious enough to accept in whatever form they had, sending him funds every month as an unofficial pension.

“You should drop by sometime. Compound's all re-done."

Bucky shifts in his seat like the chair is too small for him. “‘M not exactly a joy to be around.”

“You’re actin’ like that’s somethin’ new,” he riffs, mouth curling into a smile. “Still.”

Sam's a good man who often lets his instincts lead the way, and if he's insisting on Bucky to return then something must be worth listening to. But his only company's been the thoughts in his head for a while now, and they're no good. What's impure about him surely wraps its tendrils around the world around him, poisoning them.

It's difficult, impossible, even to shake the suspicion growing on him, crawling up his back.

“Alright, well–” Sam pushes himself off the couch “-- just give us a call if there’s anything you need help with.”

Bucky may not have as many words as he used to, but he hasn’t forgotten his manners. He walks Sam to the front, where his truck lay parked, all polished from the last time he saw it.

"You got everything you need?” Sam asks again, and something inside him ignites a spark.

“Yes.”

Sam nods, hand on the hood of the truck, giving him a final look up and down. The few seconds of a leeway fans the spark into a red-hot anger, one that has Bucky's muscles painfully tight.

"Right. See you aro-"

"Why'd you come here?" Bucky interrupts. "To check if I'm losin’ it again? SHIELD couldn't get Dr. Canmore on the line so they send their next bet to tranquilise me?

Sam's eyebrows raise this time, and Bucky thinks he's finally managed to piss off the last person who cares if he's dead or alive, but everything in him is too hot, too scathing to bother.

He wants someone to get it, what it's like to claw at concrete walls with raw fingertips and broken nails. He wants someone to see what it's like, living like they've been injected over and over with needles.

"I know it’s hard, man," Sam replies, gentle like cool water on a burn.

Bucky's hands freeze, because he realises very quickly he wanted someone to hurt.

"Just thought you could use knowin' you had someone there," he continues. "Got flowers too, but I wasn't sure if you'd..."

Something in Bucky deflates, and he wants to cower into a ball. Bury himself so deep underground that he doesn't have to deal with how his ribs feel like they're cracking into splinters all over again.

Sam's already moved towards the passenger side door, and pulled from it a beautiful arrangement of evening primroses and jasmines. Of course Sam remembered.

You would have loved it.

"I don't have anywhere to keep it," Bucky croaks. He's turned the home he bought into a tomb, and he's closed the door to any remainder of life waiting to be lived.

Sam simply hands it to him, and Bucky takes it cautiously like it'll wither in a second. His touch is venomous and his want is a death-sentence, but the flowers stay alive.

"If you ever find a place," Sam says, squeezing his shoulder, "leave something there, too. Might help."

________

He'd add 'liar' to the list of words he's chosen to describe himself, if he said he didn't think about it every second since you died.

The idea initially comes to him like a snake, slithering and winding its way up his shoulder to hiss into his ear. He shudders the first time, jaws clenching, and dismisses it immediately.

But 'sinner' is a word he would use, and so on nights when he's awake too long and when your laugh sounds like a draft in his ear, he entertains the thought.

Indulges in it, grotesquely allows himself to think of an alternate ending, where his presence had not corrupted your fate, and you would have been alive and vibrant and trying out new flavours of gelato from the corner store. Stealing kisses from him, half awake, and dragging him to watch sunrises from the roof.

He thinks of things he'd do differently. Retire a lot faster. Took you to the National Parks like he said he would. Make sure your scent seared itself like a tattoo on all his clothes, because there's nothing on earth that replicated it and he's turned it inside out trying.

When the air is icy and the skin aches where his metal arm meets flesh, he thinks of how you always flicked his shoulder when he passed an off-hand comment under his breath, but muffled a laugh when his insults got more creative.

But soon, it will be closing in on two years since Bucky's last heard you groan at his stupid comments and the lake is just as pristine as the day he bought the cabin. The water glimmers like shards of diamond and there are days he thinks it's too still for even his liking.

"Have you ever been to Asgard?" you ask one night, legs splayed over his thighs.

He looks up from the book he's reading, pencil tucked into his ear. "I have not."

"Not even once?" you ask, distracted from whatever show you had gotten hooked on on TLC. Ever since you'd discovered the channel, you were convinced it was the best way to learn about "his culture". Sometimes he tuned in to learn about updates to "his culture" in the years he was gone.

"Strictly earthbound," he replies.

You nod, eyes drifting back to the TV. He watches you for a few seconds, hand gently squeezing the arm closest to his.

As it always was, your posture was pin-straight. Always ready. Like sitting still wasn't even an option. He used to think it was because you were never truly comfortable around him, until he realises that that was simply a part of you.

Bucky re-adjusts his glasses. He was getting old. His back pained and creaked like an old door hinge more each time.

He didn't think he'd get here. He's growing to love it. Mission reminders and target locations get replaced more and more with reminders that he still has to put the leftovers in the fridge from the date earlier that night, and that your shampoo needed a re-stock.

"Would you want to come with me one day?" you ask suddenly.

He puts the book down, and you turn away from the TV again. 

He can always tell when you're thinking. The world buzzes a bit. When you're older than a few galaxies, the universe and you become not so distinct.

"Might be a bit too grand for a fella like me."

"I think you'd like it," you counter, "and you're in a relationship with me. You'd fit in as well as anyone could."

He's still not sure how he's managed to accomplish the second part but you must have liked something about his ragtag sarcasm and social isolating tendencies.

Bucky's growing older each day. You're the closest thing he's seen to eternity. He doesn't think he would fit in, not with his thrift shop t-shirts and unbridled insecurities.

"Do you want me to?" he asks, hesitant.

He's met Thor, and he's heard mostly about Loki through childhood tales and news reports. Thor didn't seem to mind him, but then again, Thor saw the best in everyone.

"I'd like to show you the place I grew up," you reply, playing with his metal fingers. "You showed me yours."

"That's a couple'a streets from here, sweetheart," he reminds playfully. "Not exactly another realm."

The corners of your mouth lift slightly. "But you feel connected to it, don't you? That it is a part of you?"

Bucky intertwines your grins and keeps it there. He's always felt something towards Brooklyn. Something that kept him going when Siberian frost nipped at his skin. Tethered.

But when he'd shown you the place he grew up in, it wasn't the same. Brickwall had been overlaid with plaster and paint. Doors ripped off their hinges, wallpaper a ghastly white instead of the stained floral print his sister and he drew on. It was unease, trepidation.

It didn't feel like his anymore. Probably because Bucky didn't feel like him anymore.

"Yeah," he replies after some thought, even though it's not entirely right.

"I feel that way about Asgard," you continue the thought. "Being here is lovely, and I love learning of all the things your people do, but--"

"It's not the same," he interjects gently. "I get you."

You look at him and smile, and Bucky feels the same gnawing feeling that this is something that's too good, too pure for him.

God of the Night Sky and the Mortal of Blood Stained Hands.

It shouldn't work, but you've already got a drawer in his shelf for your belongings. You've talked about moving to a cabin by the woods if you ever wanted to settle down. You kissed him that morning, and once more on his shoulder, and the last time he's laughed this much in one dinner was the one he had the night before with you.

"Whichever day you're ready," you promise. "I've got a feeling you'll be convinced."

Bucky presses a kiss to your fingers, and you turn back to the TV with a smile.

He watches you for a while. Your fingers continue to play with his. Bucky thinks getting older may just be worth it.

You made a dozen or so trips back to Asgard since the conversation, and he pushed his involvement on each one with the unfailing and ultimately misplaced  certainty that he'd have time.

__________

You wouldn't approve of the way he'd kept the cabin. You wouldn't approve of the way he lived. He knows that, but he also knows if you were around then he'd have a reason to actually sow more than vegetables in the land he keeps digging up. He'd make sure of the table cloth that he found stashed away, leave the blinds open more to allow light to reach his room.

He looks at the bouquet of flowers by his feet and thinks that laying it by a boulder would be insignificant.

So for the first time in a long while, he prays the act of creation will bring him some respite and builds. 

A little hut, with sticks he finds around the place, and makes it big enough to house Sam's bouquet from the wind and sun. He carves out your name onto the boulder, painstakingly with his pocket knife until each letter was guaranteed to last a century. He adds the year of your birth, and can't find it in himself to add the year you died.

He steps back and exhales. It's a memorial. It's a start.

__________

Bucky spends most of the day digging up dirt, sitting out on the porch and looking for firewood. He’s learnt how to grow his own vegetables, and how to go into town unnoticed for other essentials.

And now he has something to tend to.

It starts with fickle sticks and grows into something sturdier. He brings the memorial stronger wood, and bands to hold it together. He looks for wildflowers and pretty leaves, bunches them together and leaves them under the protection of the small roof.

It's the most he's done in over a year.

Months go from crawling to a standstill when it nears October. Bucky leaves the house less often.Truth is, the sky has never entirely recovered since you were gone. It's never truly dark-- a faint navy blue or even azure in the days leading up to the anniversary.

He's seen people puzzle over it-- call it the newest effects of light pollution or climate change. There is no reasonable answer, but the one that exists is that you left and you took the constellations with you.

Still, evening always comes faster and he can't quite stand being out at that time, when there is a void where he used to feel you the most. Instead he stays asleep for as long as he can. He makes use of the brief time he has to fix himself some food, and bare minimum upkeep.

He gathers the last of the flowers he can see around, some leaves that hadn't entirely been lost and makes his way to the lake.

"Forgive me, sweetheart. Season's changin' and I don't got a lot of options," he says lowly and to the hut that's managed to stay up.

Bucky looks at the sparse flowers in his hands and thinks that he'll make the godforsaken trip into civilisation to get you better ones. Ones you really liked, colourful and dynamic.

For now, he tries tying them together with a blade of grass to make it look less pathetic. It breaks every single time-- he's never been very good at being delicate.

Something around his wrist catches his attention. Some days he forgets it isn't a part of him.

His hair whips rather majestically around his head. He’s used to the sting when it strikes his skin, only reflexively reaching up to tuck it behind his ear.

“Hair tie?”

His eyes snap to yours in surprise. You've never really talked to him before, just brief nods and smiles along the way. Bucky wasn't exactly the patron saint for socialising either. He's always thought something about you was otherworldly. He didn't consider himself significant enough to be going out of your way to talk to either.

“Would you like a hair tie?” you repeat. “It’s rather bad out there.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, though he’s never considered that as a solution. “Sure, if you’ve got one.”

“We’ve learnt to carry them around when you fight alongside the likes of Thor and Volstagg.” You smile, reaching into the compartment of your belt. “Long hair looks good. Doesn’t always work that way.”

Bucky gives you a tight smile, feeling slightly embarrassed but a voice in him compels him to accept the kindness you’re offering.

He quickly secures his hair into a lower bun, giving more show to cheeks dusted pink.

“I’ll give it back after the mission,” he promises.

“Don’t.” You pause, giving him a once-over. “It suits you.”

Most days he remembers it's one of the only things he's still got of you. Still, he ties the flowers together with your hair tie-- and they stay this time.

"See you next week," he says, and a wind blows past him. Pathetically, he dares to hope it's a sign from you.

___________

Two sharp knocks on the door, but his eyes are open before the second one. It wasn’t like he was getting much sleep anyway.

When his arm doesn’t keep him up, it’s the ache in the rest of his body to be near you. Trailing kisses up your arm and watching wildfire heat spread through his neck when fingers tip up his chin. Lips trying to catch each other until panting breaths matched.

He flips over to the other side. Both sides of the pillow are drenched with his sweat. Christ, if this was how it was going to be in the days leading up to the anniversary, he can't imagine what would happen the day of. 

Someone rapps intently at the door, only picking up pace when Bucky chooses to ignore it. By all means, he’s retired. That alone should entitle him to some fucking peace, but no. 

He curses as he drags himself out of bed and pulls on a shirt, shuffling to the door. When he pulls it open, his eyes are probably murderous, but there is no one to catch the daggers. There is a simple brown cardboard box, labelled with his name.

Bucky, with a narrowed gaze, takes a step away from the box and instead heads into the open air. But there is not a soul, even as he stalks around the cabin and really stops to listen.

He comes back to the threshold and eyes the box. Using his foot, he swiftly kicks the lid off it and braces for an impact that doesn’t come.

There are shirts. And a mug. He frowns, kneeling down to shuffle through the contents, only to find bits and pieces of things he just…left behind when he left the compound.

Pictures he never really got framed. Socks with torn toes. Sweatpants. Laptop.

And there’s a tiny box. His chest twists the second he lays eyes on it so much that he thinks he’s been injured.

There’s a ring in there. Not really even an engagement ring, since you were gone before he had a chance.

Just a ring. But it’s enough to make him suddenly feel the weight of the air around him and he’s forced to take a seat right there on the steps. There’s nothing else in there of you, just old mission reports that mention your active involvement. Maybe if the smell of cardboard hadn’t permeated through the fabric of his shirts, he’d have traces of your scent.

Fragmented parts of his life, like snapshots of his history, running through his mind like an old film. It makes him question, for a second, if death was finally catching up to him.

Well, it was late. He’d been kept waiting for years.

_____________

The day itself is grey and sullen. In crackles of electricity, he can almost feel Thor’s state of mind. He tries not to think that in a few years, you’d be gone for longer than he knew you.

He rounds up leaves as orange as mandarins and ties them together with the hairtie. He clears up the last bunch he’d left and takes a seat on the shore of the lake. Cloudless and barren. Chill.

He can sense the end of the battle is near– he sees Sam a lot less overhead, even his gun didn’t require as many re-stocks. His pace slows to match the few that are left around him, and he’s already wondering how he can finish this quicker to get to help with search and rescue.

But Bucky didn’t even have to be told. Mid-punch, something in the air shifts and a deep shiver runs up the curve of his spine.

Before he even straightens up the sky explodes from the early azure of dawn to a blinding white to a blood-curdling crimson. His body reacts faster than he does, because the speed at which his stomach drops is only rivalled by how fast he was sprinting to your last known location.

He yells names through open comms-- yours, Thor's, Sam's-- turning the corner and immediately feeling the full force of a blast shove him onto his back.

With a groan and the force of his left hand, he presses into his ears to stop the excruciating ringing. He feels someone pull him up– blue, red and white kevlar against bruised skin and he’s already pushing away.

“Sam, where–” he blinks furiously, trying to read what word’s Sam’s got on his mouth because his head is still spinning. “She–”

He hears something about Thor and building and searching and forces himself to look at the force of a multistory highrise that’s collapsed into rubble on the street.

Something about impaled and sacrificed and he feels like vomiting violently, shoving Sam aside to stumble through the dust and smoke, teeth clamping down on his heart in his mouth.

Thoughts of you waiting under rocks, choking while fly ash turned your lungs to rock, suffocating.  Every second of his incompetence is a second you spend wasting away where he couldn't find you.

It takes hours for Thor to give up searching through the rubble. It takes Bucky days.

It took a few seconds for the sky to turn red. It took weeks to turn from crimson to the ghost of blue it still remains.

God of the Night Sky and A Man Too Slow.

Your body is never found, and Bucky never forgives himself. It takes a whole month to be able to look at the night. Some days he hides his face from the moon, afraid of wrath.

____________

When Bucky gets the call, he isn’t exactly sure how to respond. One, because he didn’t even know you had his number memorised and two, he’s not sure how you’ve allowed yourself to get arrested. But it’s 2am and he’s on his motorcycle, on the way to the police station, still entirely confused about what exactly was going on.

“That’s him.” You point, jumping up from behind the bars.

You look lovely– someone’s gotten you out of the battle armour he usually sees you in, and into something that passes as authentically Earth-like.

He makes a mental comment to tell you, but to still be discreet about it. He's not really sure where the both of you stand these days. You've got him agreeing to braids in his hair like a viking, and sitting next to him during team nights. He's got you reading the entirety of Lord of the Rings and going to museums with him to steal back his belongings. But he's not really sure.

Bucky’s eyebrow twitches at the fact that they’ve got you locked up, but you look entirely unfazed like it’s a new restaurant or escape room you’re checking out. Excited, even.

"Hey,” he says calmly to whoever wants to listen, “what the fuck?”

The grin you give him is sheepish and he already kinda wants to laugh, but he fights back a smile.

“Broke two tables at the bar two blocks down,” the officer replies. “Looks like she was going for a third.”

“I promise, I did not mean to,” you swear to him. “I did not realise your furniture would be so weak.”

Bucky looks at the officer wearily. “Had t’lock her up for that?”

Whatever the officer was expecting, it was not Bucky's lack of respect for the law or private property.

“Well– superpowers– we’re not really sure–” he stammers.

You watch the man curiously, while Bucky's eyes flicker over to you. He knows you could bend the bars of the jail cell and walk right out, so indulging them was clearly a choice.

“I’m an Avenger, I’ll take it from here,” he interrupts, making his way over to you.

“I’m gonna need to see some ID–”

“Google it,” he bites back, before turning to you. “Y’okay?” 

“I’m great,” you reply, full of life as if it wasn’t the middle of the fucking night. “It was a lot of fun.”

“How’d you know my number?” He mentions for the guard to unlock the gate, ignoring the swelling in his stupid chest.

“We are friends, are we not?” you ask, a bit confused.  

Bucky can't figure out if he's surprised or disappointed- a good mix of both, perhaps. He's glad you consider him a friend, but something in him aches dully. He positively despises it and how often it's been creeping up on him whenever he sees you around the compound. He was a 100 years old, not some lovesick fuckin' teenager.

“Yeah. We are,” he agrees, turning to glare at the officer who was holding up his phone, eyes darting between it and Bucky’s face. “Could y’move faster? It’s late.”

The guy hurriedly unlocks it and you step out, stretching your arms over your head before waving goodbye to the guy and sauntering off. He watches you go for a second before pressing back a small smile.

“The bar-”

“Tell them to get stronger tables,” Bucky calls from over his shoulder, not even waiting for a reaction. “Send the paperwork to the Avengers office, and put the bail on the tab.”

He finds you outside, arms crossed over your chest while you wait for him.

“Thank you.” You give him a smile. “I forgot that it would be late for you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he waves off. “Wild night, huh?”

He had heard that some of the agents who had shifted here recently were checking out the hubs around town, but he had no idea that you’d be with them. It made sense in hindsight. More often than not, you were seeking recommendations and guides on how to learn what it was like here.

“I’ve seen worse.” Your eyes shine, and for a second he thinks that they even glimmer like starlight. “I did not realise breaking tables would be such an issue.”

“Yeah, we tend to be possessive over stuff,” he scratches his neck, almost embarrassed for his kind. “Coulda kept the cops out of it, don’t know why they had to go through all this.”

“I will have them replaced. Ours will not break, they’re made for Asgardian parties after victories in battle.”

He nods slowly and wonders if a crane would be enough to lift the table into the joint. It was nearly 3am, and he was out here with you in front of a police station, and he can't stop his stomach from fluttering. He wants to punch himself.

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly.

Bucky’s head tilts. He definitely had dinner….maybe. Half a leftover burrito and an apple.

“I’m starving,” you add. “I saw this place along the way here–”

Not to rub it in, but Bucky Barnes, smooth player and charmer extraordinaire, blanks. He's about sixty years off his game, and sure, he thinks you’re real pretty and that maybe he’s always wanted to know what it’d be like to buy you dinner and maybe hold your hand? If you were good with that? Maybe even–

“Like a date?” he blurts out and immediately wrings his fingers.

You falter and he wishes he was never born. “A date?”

“Like– getting dinner together,” he tries to remedy. “Breakfast. What time is it?”

“Yes, that is what I asked.” Your head cocks to the side to match his in confusion.

“No, like– like different. Not just dinner– yeah, dinner, but more–” Christ alive, he wishes he could run into traffic, but the road was deserted.

You wait for him to explain a little better where he was trying to get at. He can feel his ears burning bright.

He just shuts up instead.

“Dinner-breakfast, but more,” you test slowly.

“...more romantic?” he tries finally, defeated. “A date. Romantic date– I’m tryin' to ask you out here.”

"Oh.”

The world is very still. He thinks he will hand in his resignation tomorrow and disappear.

He had done his part, embarrassed his mother and every internet poll that deemed him the most suave and mysterious Avenger, and could now die in peace.

“A date it is, then. Breakfast-dinner, but more,” you reply.

Oh. He thinks he’s probably going to combust but you lean over to press a small kiss to his cheek, and now he’s sure he’s going to combust.

“Humans think too much,” you say simply.

"Think I'm more of an exception than the norm,” he mumbles.

"Aren't I lucky," you tease, and tap on the helmet. “Don’t suppose you’ve got an extra?”

Bucky’s eyes fly open, and the blankets get kicked off in a frenzy. His chest heaves as he sits up, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

He knew it was going to be bad, but he didn’t think it would be this fucking insidious. 

He moves to wipe the sweat from his brow but comes back dry. The air is still cold even though he keeps the window shut, and he turns to it to see a thunderstorm taking place outside.

He watches the drops pelt against the window and trees shake violently for a moment, forcing himself to breathe as he rakes his hand through his hair.

Before it clicks, and his stomach drops.

“Fuck,” he hisses, not even bothering to throw on a jacket before bolting outside.

The path that he’s trodden a thousand times before looks entirely unknown, and had he not been reliant on his muscle memory he would have had no clue where he was heading. Inky blue trees, harsh and sharp, and he's sure he's gotten a few scratches on his face already as he sprints through the forest to the lake.

The boulder is there, the carving of your name remains but the hut of sticks and leaves-- it lays strewn across the land.

And the hair tie. The fucking hair tie.

He crawls miserably on his arms and knees, relying on the light from a clouded moon to guide him through every inch of grass. Eyes burning red, he continues to scour until morning breaks with twilight.

6 years he’s kept it with him. 6 years, and it’s gone with the rain.

He lets out a cry, fist driving into the earth, barely met with any resistance.

God of the Night, and Devil of Misery.

_______

The flowers had dried up and left him to rot with them. The lake was troubled on more days than not. He had a ring that was neither entirely yours, neither entirely his and no more than the traces of your skin in his memory.

So this time when the idea appears to him like a snake, crawling and inching up his back to tell him that he deserves it, you deserve it. It would solve everything.

He is no stronger than Eve. He had fallen from grace a long time ago. He shudders just as he did the first time, but now it felt like more reprieve.

_____________

“James,” it greets, hollow like a windchime.

His voice comes out more gruffer than he expects from months of unuse, “Got a minute?”

The light retreats further into the house, away from him. He watches it fade as it travels, unsure of what to do until it pauses, hovering in one spot.

It waits for him, he realises. He slips the beanie off his head and into his pocket, before hesitantly taking a step into the cabin. The floorboards creak under the weight of him the way his own used to months ago. Now they were well-worn and all the corners that made the most noise were identified and memorised. The house and its resident both stayed silent.

Bucky finds Wanda with her eyes closed, palms pressed into her knees as she sits midair, body levitating like she was held up by a marionette.

The room is lit dimly, the only light enough to see Wanda and he understands that the woman he met years ago and the one in front of him now were not the same. Even without his serum, he has a feeling the hair on his body would be standing up, adrenaline replacing desperation and fingers bound tightly into a fist. But even with his senses on high alert, Bucky finds it hard to find a reason to care.

“You found me.”

They gave him back his laptop. He knew the Avengers had eyes on her– but only because she was allowing them.

“What brings you here?” she asks, eyes still closed.

“I need a favour,” Bucky replies, voice unnaturally strong.

“Most do,” she hums, bones cracking when her head creaks to the side. “What is it that you want, James?”

“Got a feeling you already know,” he replies.

“Humour me.”

Bucky’s eyes burn the more he continues to stare. He feels sweat trickle down his back in a clean line. The room felt like it was closing in on him with every pulse of light, crawling into his skin and scraping up and down his bones until–

“I want to bring her back from the dead.”

Wanda’s eyes stay shut but a sick, twisted sort of smile works at the corner of her mouth. “Who?”

“You know who,” he swallows thickly.

Wanda straightens her head till she is sitting pin straight again, eerily firm as if her spine had been replaced with a rod.

“It has been months. Nature would not have been kind to her.”

“But it’s possible,” he says– asks, really.

“Anything is,” Wanda tuts. “But all that time would have eroded away at her.”

“We never found the body." He hates how his voice quivers for a second. “And she’s not from this Earth. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Depends.”

“Can you do it?”

“I can.”

Bucky feels relief flood into his system, an ecstatic sort of euphoria that has his heart lead–

“But I won't.”

And it goes back to how it was. Cold. Bitter. Was this some sick fucking joke?

“Why?” His voice drops an octave.

“Time will heal you. Getting in the way of that is only harmful to you.”

Real fuckin’ rich coming from you, he wants to scream.

“I tell you this because I know from experience.” It’s almost as if she reads his mind. Probably does. “Bringing someone back from the dead is not what you think it is.”

“I’ll handle it. Whatever it is.”

“Can you?”

Bucky wavers, brows furrowing. “Yes.”

Wanda hums, the same smile from before returning to her face. “Your spirit is admirable. But I’m afraid I can’t grant you this wish.”

Bucky feels white hot inside, and like his world crumbles into a dark heaving mess. “Wanda–”

“It’s for your own good, James.” If he wasn’t so full of rage he’d maybe hear the fondness that hid behind a few of her words.

“How would you know?” he snaps. “Vision wasn’t human–”

Wanda’s eyes snap open. Bucky is forcefully shoved a step back, arm jumping up in front of him in a second. For the first time he notices that the light wasn’t shining on Wanda– it was coming from her. Crimson red and pulsating as fast as the blood raced through her veins.

“You think Vision was the first time I’ve lost someone?” Her voice is cold. “You met him, James. You knew his name.”

Bucky’s grown to carry guilt on his back like Atlas. A little bit more is hardly a burden. “This– it’s going to be different,” he says. “She’s not a mutant, she’s a God, Wanda–”

“So you think you can match up to that by playing one?” Wanda’s voice raises. “You don’t get to pick who stays dead. You don’t get to choose. I didn’t. None of us did.”

“I wasn’t there when she died. If I was, then maybe–”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I cannot give you this favour.”

“Then consider it repayment. Of a debt,” he finally exclaims. “You said it. You owed me one. I’m cashin’ it in.”

Days of starvation just so that the kids could eat. If his handlers knew, they’d make him kill them with his bare hands. He gladly accepts fifteen more broken bones just so that the twins are kept together, and even when he goes back under, the sight of their big eyes, too big for their faces, staring at him haunts him in his nightmare.

“I just want another chance.” Bucky’s stare is strong, voice steady. “I’m tired of praying. I’m sick of it. I’ve been begging my whole life for a second chance at everything. You think I want to be here? That I get to be the one that’s still alive?”

The glow around Wanda looks like it should burn her. All consuming and vicious, like blood splattered on a wall.

“Please,” his voice reduces to the strength of a child. “Just try. That’s all I’m askin’.”

Bucky watches as the light slowly dims to a silhouette, leaving him blinking back the burn on his iris. He loosens his fist, knowing later that his fingernails probably broke through the skin of his palm.

Wanda’s chest rises and falls.

She closes her eyes. “Leave.”

He wordlessly turns on his heel. It was stupid of him to hope, he supposes.

______________

Autumn dies for December to grow, and he starts staying inside more than he already does. Snowfall covers the roof and the treetops. He swaps eggs for soup and makes batches large enough to last the whole day. The ground freezes over, and he looks for ways to keep his self-sustaining system going, but trips to town become more frequent.

Sam visits once more, and brings some more things with him this time. Books, a journal, some old box sets of shows. Bucky nods along to the conversation, asks after his family and when the time comes, rejects another offer to come to spend Christmas at the compound.

He accepts Sam’s flowers with more grace than the last time. The door closes, and he leaves it by the couch.

__________

He attempts to rebuild it. Pulls together some stronger branches and heavier stones. A new memorial lays together half-heartedly. Dejected. A little miserable looking.

He stares at it a little too long before one swoop of his arm cracks it in half and leaves it strewn across the grass.

Bucky doesn't try again.

__________

“Did you come up with the constellations?”

It's a stupid question, but he's always curious about you.  

“Hm,” you reply at first. “Not in the sense that you’d think.”

Bucky turns away from looking into the abyss and towards you. His flesh hand continues to trace shapes into your skin as your neck rests on his bicep.

“I didn’t place them in a way that was meant to be drawn,” you reply. “My mother used to tell me when I was a child that the spirits of those I cherished would live on through parts of our creations. For others, it would be through groves of orchards, or rain that corrode caves into mountains.”

Bucky watches the fingers of your free hand dance nimbly, while the other stays tucked between the both of you.

“I was young when I realised that certain lights were brighter when I felt too much for someone. Pain, joy, rage,” you continue, fingertips pointing upwards, “Those stars, satellites– whatever you wanted to call them– they were the ties I had to those I loved. So sometimes, I would move them with me so that every time I looked up, I would see that I had company.”

He tears his eyes away from you and towards where you were gesturing. It’s subtle at first, but then he sees– stars moving faster than they should, darting all around the canvas of the night like runaway splotches.

“Over time, those on earth noticed patterns and called them constellations. I’ve always seen it as my family,” you say, gently dragging a barely lit star from the corner of his eye towards the centre.

“That’s for Thor. Sif.” You take turns to point. “Loki. Fandrall. Hogun. My parents.”

Each seems to glow a little brighter as you call out their name. “There’s one for you, as well.” Your finger drops, finding its way back to comfort on his chest.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise.  

“You’ll have to see for yourself which one it is.” You leave a kiss on his jawline, and he instinctively tugs you a bit closer. “It won’t be any fun if I tell you.”

He doesn’t need to ask. There’s one slightly to your left, that’s glowing a little brighter tonight than the rest. His chest swells, and there's a profound sort of speechlessness that engulfs him. He never really knows what to say around you anyway.

“Really fuckin’ love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your the skin of your temples.

“I’ve got a clue or two.” You laugh and along with you, so does the sky.

___________

Bucky eyes fly open, fingers digging deep into the pillow. Not because of the way his brain was choosing to torture him again.

But the fact that the fucking person from before was back at his door, even though it was the middle of the fucking night.

He lets the first three knocks go unanswered but by the fifth one, he’s ready to unleash the force of the shitty month he’s had into whoever was here to drop off the next box of fucking whatever.

He doesn’t even bother pulling on shoes or straightening out his clothes. Hair wild and untamed and fury in his eyes, he marches down the steps of the cabin with a select choice of words for SHIELD and their stupid protocols.

With enough force to pull the door from its hinges, he yanks the door open, eyes ablaze and mouth set in a scowl.

And the earth stops spinning. 

The absolute wind gets knocked out of him and he’s scared to even blink because this has happened to him before. It’s happened, and his eyes have closed and it’s left and he can’t afford that again–

He freezes when a hand reaches out to touch his bicep. Because that has never happened before. He’s always woken up before this.

At the threshold of the cabin, he falls to his knees. His joints ache the same way they did in church all that time ago when his fury was masked with tears.

“Oh,” he whispers, kneeling before the essence of a God he thought abandoned him.

“Bucky?” you ask, confused and soft, hand reaching out to cup his cheek before lowering yourself to his height.

Bucky makes somewhere between a strangled noise and a strange laugh, head reeling.

“You’re back.” His hands fall at your waist lightly like he’s afraid to disrupt still water.

“What’s–” your sentence is interrupted when your eyes roll back into your head.

Moments later it goes limp, and his reflexes move faster than he can comprehend as he grabs you, body springing into action when his mind gives up on him.

He lets out a sigh of relief loud enough to be a sob, fervently holding up the dead weight and a rhythm returns to the stillness of the night, one he’d forgotten the sound of. If he was even the slightest bit aware, more than grateful, he would see the signs from then. His vibranium doesn’t warm when it meets the sliver of skin as he bunches up your shirt in his grip. It feels like he’s breathing in Antarctic air, not spring drafts.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your shoulder to whoever is listening. “Fuck– God, thank you.”

_______

"It's been a month."

"A week, and that's pushing it."

"You're pushing it," you mumble, tightening the straps of your armour, "I do not know how you live like this. Do you always just stare at the ceiling when you're bored?"

"Sometimes I like to switch it up. Look at the floor," Bucky adds gruffly, to a roll of your eyes. "Maybe the door on the days I'm feelin' real fancy."

"You will just let your TV lay that way? With half the screen missing?"

He shrugs half-heartedly. "Sports season's done. Got nothin' to watch."

"Hmm," you pause a second. "'No' to your offer then. You may take that as my formal reply."

"'No' to Thai takeout later?" Bucky squints out into the twilight through the window of the ammunition room. "Lebanese then?"

You raise your eyebrows, tightening the leather around your wrists. "Goodbye, Barnes."

"Bye," he replies, checking to see if his knives sat securely in his old tactical pants.

You send him a nod before you start striding towards the door.  The jet had landed a while ago, still onloading agents and recruits from the compound. 

Bucky's arm jets out to grab your elbow, pulling you back into him. He's well aware it's only because you let him.

"I'm kiddin'," Bucky laughs at the matching smile on your face. "I'll get it fixed. I'll fix it myself. Just marry me, please. I'm growin' old here, sweetheart. All this questioning's not good for my heart."

"You're already old. And we will talk about it when we get back," your fingers press gently into his chest, and he can feel your touch even through the bulletproof vest. "Your laws-"

"There's no law out there that says ex-enemies of the state and Gods can't marry. Even if there is, it'll be just another one I have to break."

Your eyes twinkle when you laugh. Bucky sees remnants of old cosmos in there, as he always has.

"We'll talk about it when we get back," you promise. "Be safe."

"Can't guarantee that."

"Try not to die, then."

"Always."

He can't remember a time when he wasn't the last one on the jet, owing to goodbyes like this. You never opted to join them, reaching the same way Thor does.

The night was uncharacteristically calm, especially since he knew that miles away you were about to step into another battle. But it's good. The night means you will be at your strongest, and that is what he hopes for.

Bucky allows a few seconds of silence to take you in, skin glowing even against harsh fluorescent lighting and a cool air of confidence around you. You raise an eyebrow at him, because this is far from the first time he has done this. He would never divulge why.

He takes a chance to press a quick kiss to your lips, humming. "I'll get the TV fixed when we're back."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Barnes." You smile, thumb swiping across the dent in his nose, an imperfection in a sea of many. "Thai for dinner?"

"Lemme check my calendar." Bucky takes a step back, feeling his heart constrict in a way that he's gotten used to craving. "I may have an opening."

"Please, don't try too hard."

"I'll have my secretary get back to you."

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. "I love you."

"So, that's a yes then?"

"Get on the plane, Bucky." You sigh. "You already know the answer."

"Love you more." He grins at you, bright and like he's never known sadness. "Catch you later."

____________

In the days that pass, he doesn’t know how to be.

His body leaves him no choice–  staying up all night, waiting for Wanda to show up at the door, fingers burning to take it all back. He keeps the doors locked and windows shut, as if ageing wood would provide any sort of a barrier when it came to her will.

Bucky walks around in a trance, eyes glossy and body stiff like he isn’t sure how much of what he’s seeing is real.

Your body, housed in his old clothes, looks three seconds away from death. He keeps a bucket by the bed from when you cough up dust, the last remainder of old organs. He massages leg spasms, and muscle cramps from your neck.

He keeps a towel close by for the nausea and anything in between as your body fights off the shock of a rebirth. Allopathy is useless when you're a God either way, so he resorts to herbs and roots to alleviate as much as he can.

Your lungs struggle for air at night. He’s already awake, propping you up to make sure you’re breathing better. He rubs at your back in circles the same way he used to do for Steve and finally takes a breath when the wheezing subsidies.

He fervently tells you he loves you every time you slip back under, and wipes at your forehead with a wet cloth to ease the warmth. He’s met with coughing fits and clenched eyes.

Exactly one week from your return, a trip downstairs to gather more firewood for the room and Bucky falters to a stop near the kitchen.

There's a note pinned to the dining table with no indication as to how it got there.

The debt is repaid. This was by your will. Whatever happens next will be by hers.

Every hour, he watches rotting flesh, dissolved muscles and clotted blood crawl out of your mouth. He forces himself to watch. It was his choice after all.

Bringing you back from the dead was never going to be easy.

_________

A week later, the remains of your old body stop exhuming itself. Perspiration beads line your forehead, and he thinks the salt of sweat is your first act of creation. 

Your breath steadies. Nights go smoother. He learns he can live off of two hours of sleep. 

He toys with the idea of telling someone. Sam. Thor, even.  But your lips are bluer than he’s ever seen, even more than when he’d introduced you to blueberry juice pops when the heat beat down on you both in July, and you’d kissed his red-stained ones. 

The longer he stares at you, he dismisses the idea. Something in him says that beyond being something they could accept, they could actively bring a stop to what he was doing right now. 

He couldn’t afford that. Not now, not ever; not when he’s let you down once before already. It’s a secret for now, then. For as long as it needs to be. 

__________

In the days later your nervous system seems to be rewiring itself. The first time he sees you with your eyes open, the plates he’s holding clatter to the floor. 

“Hey,” he whispers, fingers clutching the side of the bed, “Hey, honey. Can you hear me?”

But your eyes never meet his. He slowly follows your gaze to the closed window, eyes glassy and surrounded by strings of red. 

He sees you mouth something, and desperate as he is, he never truly understands what it is before you’re gone again.  

His exhale leaves staggering, head dipping to your arm as he clenches his eyes tight till he sees spots. 

_____________

Bucky starts leaving the windows open. The ones in your room, at least, and only when he's there to keep watch.

It becomes a mission then. The next time you opened your eyes couldn’t be to the desolation he lived in for months. He looks for flowers. Vines. Anything to make the place look less dreary and miserable. He cleans the blinds, and dusts the paintings in the room.

The cells in your body seem to be working overtime– every day there is a little bit less that reminds him of where you came from. Scabs fall away faster than they grow, leaving unbroken skin.

He notices it late. There is only one wound that remains-- a red, jagged scar along your stomach. It looks angry. Heals slower than the rest of them. It is the only place Bucky sees specks of gold instead of bronze when you exert yourself too much.

__________

It takes a good amount of time. He should have anticipated it— the next time you awake, and the next few times after that are only when the sun chases beyond the horizon. 

He drops to your side with questions of “can you hear me?” or “does something hurt?” but each time, something outside the widow holds your attention dear to its chest and unwilling to share.

The moon rays become an elixir more powerful than anything from this Earth. Light almost surrounds you like a cloak, sinking into your skin and drowning in your bones. 

He stays up at night, massaging your arms and your temples, but you are still so cold to the touch he isn’t sure the blood is circulating at all. So he gets more firewood. Makes sure the house is warm all the fucking time.  

Stagnant. Still. Some nights he thinks he can see you looking at him from the corner of your eye.

The second he turns, you lay unmoving as before.

________

He stands labouring over the stove. There's a batch of rich tomato soup, with bread toasting in a skillet nearby. He alternates between wiping down the bowl to serve you in, though you still haven’t eaten, and stirring the soup to stop it from sticking to the bottom of the pan. 

He makes note that he still has to get more gauze from the town, and proper tools to sand down the chairs before he can even think of--

But something interrupts his to-do list. It's so soft, he thinks for a second he's imagining it. But the ladle he's holding clangs against the pot, and he abandons the bowls with such hurry that he wouldn't be surprised if it's in shards.

He races up the stairs, three at a time, his heart is thumping louder than the floorboards creaking.

It’s silent. He can hear his own arm whirring quietly.

He lets out a breath when he sees you haven’t changed positions since he last saw you, and wordlessly turns to head back downstairs to an over-bubbling cauldron of soup. 

"Bucky?"

It’s almost like eternity whooshes past his ears when he realises that he wasn't imagining it.

“Hey.” He drops without a second thought to your bedside, knees scraping against the wood. “Hey. Hi sweetheart. What do you need?”

“Water,” your voice is hoarse and just above a whisper, but you’re looking at him.

You’re fucking looking at him, and your eyes are a share darker than he remembers them being.

He makes a grab for the jug by your bed and holds a full glass to your lips carefully, watching as water treacles in through chapped lips. 

"How are you feelin’?" He hates how shaky his voice sounds, as if he wasn't prepared. As if he hadn’t been waiting.

It takes a second for you to form the word. "Tired."

His fingers brush against your cheek. "What can I do for you?"

You don’t respond, and he watches your chest rise and fall heavily again. You were asleep again.

He bites into his lower lip so hard he can taste the rust of his blood. Moonlight filters in through your curtain and he runs his thumb over the corner of your eye, placing a kiss on your forehead.

It was a start.

___________

Bucky grew up with siblings he outlasted and an absolute wildfire of a friend. It was safe to say the man had more patience than most.

The same conversation repeats three more times over the next few days, and he answers each time with as much tender refrain as the first, begging to know where he can help and what he can do.

“Tired” turns to “I’m tired” turns to “I’m just tired”, and with each he is as proud and hopeful as he was when you talked the first time. 

You begin to eat finally, and he hopes his skills aren’t bad enough to send you to the other side again. Spoonfuls of soup. Bites of bread. A glass of water, and then two. 

“Buck,” you rasp.

And he’s as ready as he was the previous day, with a gentle, “Tell me, sweetheart.”

You’ve already gotten a slice of bread into you today, and you’ve slept through the night. He’s considering this one of the best days you’ve had so far, and that alone is triumph enough to ease the anxiety that pervades him. 

“I was dead.” But this was new. 

Bucky blinks, not sure if he heard you right. Your eyebrows knitted together tells him he did. 

“You were,” he confirms, not daring to breathe. 

“But now…” you trail off, as if you were expecting to wake up that minute. 

His Adam’s apple shifts up and down. “Things changed.”

“How?” you ask, eyebrows pulling together even tighter, and he worries it takes energy that could be used elsewhere.

The muscles in his jaw tighten anxiously. The floorboards press into his knees. 

"You did something?" your voice comes back quietly. 

His silence is enough of an answer.

"How long was I gone?"

"It’s been a while, honey," he replies, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your head turns to face the ceiling, a deep exhale working its way through you. Bucky's eyes drift to the scar on your stomach, hidden under the fabric. Thorny and broken.

"Who knows?"

His gaze shifts back to your face, but you aren't looking at him.

"Only me," he says, voice unwittingly dropping before adding, "and Wanda."

"Wanda," you repeat quietly. "It was magic."

Something familiar sets into Bucky's chest. Heavy, pressing down on his throat and making the bile rise.

"I'll get you more water," he says, pausing briefly to look at you, but you continue to stare at the roof. "I'll be right back."

You don’t have a response for him. As he makes his way to the door, it follows like a shadow. He pauses by the frame to look at you once again, but your eyes have closed.

Bucky watches for a second, swallowing thickly. It feels all too similar to guilt.

__________

Bucky dedicates himself even more vigorously to the house. He finally takes out the cutlery, cleans it up the best he can and wipes down the table every single day.  He spends the day collecting fruits for juices and vegetables for broth. Firewood. Making sure everything is sharp enough to use, and the traps he set up in his initial time here were still functional.

He checks to see if the trees can take the weight of the swing he’s hoping to fashion out of bark. How fast it would take to polish the porch chairs and flooring, and what exactly it would take to do that.

No matter how much he cleans, it isn’t enough to wipe the look on your face from where it was seared into his brain like hot iron.  

A week later he's in the garden, digging up the ground to plant seeds. It's January, and it's still fucking freezing, but he's gonna fucking try anyway.

He's got a hold of seeds of poppy, marigold, daisies and who knows what else, and plenty of fucking time.

"You garden now?"

He looks up in surprise. You lean against the backdoor, no winter coat on even though it's freezing. It flashes in his mind that you look paler than you used to, and he wonders if that will go in time. 

“I’ve always gardened,” Bucky defends weakly, and tries to keep his tone normal. “Just– not well.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you ask, “Has that changed?"

“Can’t say it has, sweetheart." He looks at the mess he's created on the ground. "'M tryin', though.”

The corner of your lip upturns into a faint smile. His stomach twists painfully.

"You're up," he says, a little too late. It came faster than he thought it would. Then again, you weren’t human. You didn’t always listen to the laws of nature. 

"Y'feeling cold?" he adds quickly. 

You shrug, pushing off from the door to slowly take a seat. Your legs dangle off the ledge of the porch, barefoot. Bucky waits for you to swing your legs like you always have but you stay still.

He dusts his hands on his jeans and stands, tugging his jacket off his shoulders and holding it out to you. "Can I?" 

"Go on," you allow, and he drapes it around your shoulders, making sure it isn't likely to slip off before stepping back.

A draft blows past you both without either of you saying a word. Discarding the little shovel on the ground, Bucky chooses to take a seat beside you instead.

"You will feel cold, won't you?" 

"I'll be fine, don't worry 'bout me," he reassures. 

"Seems like you have it covered already," you say, making a motion to imitate the shape of his beard. "Mighty fine mane you've got there, James. You could give Odin a run for his money."

He gives a short chuckle, threading his hands through his hair that reaches down to his shoulders.

He’s finding it hard to formulate words. He couldn’t even tell if his mind was racing or entirely blank.

"You've got grey in your beard now," you observe. It sounds wistful. Sad even, and all of a sudden he’s left realising that he doesn't know how long it has been for you.

"Been a while since I got a haircut." 

Christ, he was drier than a brick. His conversational skills and charm had deserted him along with the rest of his luck. 

You lift your eyes from his beard to his face, scanning from his hairline down to his chin. "You look as handsome as you always have," you say and his heart jumps. "Just a bit..."

Sadder. Tired. Mistrusting.

"Older," you settle on.

He'd grown more wrinkles than he could count, and his skin didn't bounce back as much as it used to.

Beyond that, he smiled a lot less. He spent more time thinking than verbalising.

“You need help?” He hears you ask faintly, head gesturing to the patch of dug-up mud.

“You need to get rest,” Bucky shakes himself out of it. “I’ll get you some–”

“I’ve rested long enough, Buck,” you say assertively. 

He wonders if you did. Bucky remembers what you told him of Asgardian funerals. How your body is set floating along a river, and your soul lifts towards the sky to rest. You never got to have that. He doesn’t even know if they sent an empty log along a cold river.

"Tomorrow?" he delays.  

You look at him briefly before nodding.The ground stays untouched and the sky still greys. Bucky sees you take a few deep breaths, shuddering when a draft of wind blows by. He silently shrugs off his scarf too, and wraps it around your neck loosely.

You simply let him. Minutes pass in silence, and neither of you make any motion to move. 

You bump your shoulder into his. "I see you haven't fixed the TV yet."

A swift exhale leaves him in the form of a laugh. He turns away so that you don't see how his eyes begin to burn.   

"Sorry, honey," he croaks out, "I've been distracted."

The smile you give him is melancholic, and that's enough to dissolve his red eyes from a warning into tears.

_________

Bucky buys every single streaming platform available, and every channel available on cable.

That night he takes apart every single component of the television, wipes it down and puts it back together better than before. He only rests when it's 2am and the sound of late night commercials softly flood the living room.

__________

Bucky takes the guest bedroom, initially, a floor away from you to give you the space you need. 

He then realises it's too far, it's too risky. Sheepishly, he shifts to the same room as you, but makes himself a place to sleep on the floor with blankets and a pillow.

You voice your protest, and even though he’s spent three years curled up beside your sleeping frame, he says his back could use the hard surface now. 

He gets you clothes from town. Sweaters and socks, scarves. Things he knew you used to like and things he always promised he'd get if he had another chance. You take them with a small smile and a thanks. He sees you wear them around the house, and while they're exactly the size they should be, and the colours he knows you love.

There's a nagging feeling in him that they don't sit right. They don't look right. Still, you wear them on the days you can leave the bed. He shows you around the house. The good parts, at least, and pretends like that’s how he’s always lived even though he can tell you see right through his facade. 

He’s there when you thrash around at night. Bucky's up before the minute is even over, at your side and gently calling your name till you jolt awake. He hands you glass after glass of chilled water, rubbing your back in circles till the wave passes. It’s entirely too reminiscent of what you used to do for him, and he hopes the familiarity would do you good. 

Sometimes you tell him what you saw. Darkness enveloping you for hours, holding you close and sliding its vines over you, binding your limbs like rope before you're shoved into blinding light.

“Last I remember was the fight," you say one night, as he wipes the sweat from your forehead. "I cannot tell how much of it was real, it's--"

And you pause and struggle, and he's at a loss for words because you never have been. You've always known what to say. You've always had a thought you wanted to share. 

"Thor told me a little bit," he offers quietly. "If you'd want, I'd tell ya."

You look at him, conflict raging behind drained irises. "I was fighting. I heard them say something about-- there was a building with civilians hiding."

"Yeah, there was," he confirms, voice tight.

"They wanted to-- do something to it." You close your eyes, brows furrowing in concentration. "I told Thor I would get them out before anything happens. We had done it so many times before."

"He said there was an explosion."

The sky explodes from the early azure of dawn to a blinding white to a blood-curdling crimson.

And Bucky was too slow to get you out.

"I don't remember that," you say and his eyebrows furrow. "I remember--"

Bucky watches you hesitate for a second before your hands nimbly move the fabric of your shirt slightly to reveal the outline of the scar, inhaling sharply. 

"I wasn't careful enough. There were civilians I was getting out and someone from behind--"

It dawns in a slow realisation the reason why the scar hadn’t healed yet. Why it stood out from the others that littered your skin. Bucky had thought for this long that you'd died in a blaze, trapped under bricks and mortar. That you had been left suffocating because he hadn't been fast enough, that he wasn't good enough.

"I knew I would not be awake for long. I just wanted to get rid of as many of them as I could."

"The building came down." He swallows the rock in his throat. "We spent days searching through it."

"I think I was gone before the explosion happened."

It makes sense-- the sky shifted all too quickly that day. You were gone before he even had the chance. Your fate had already been sealed. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have been there.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

"That's not–" his words come out in a rush, stumbling over each other, insistent. "If I was there--"

"There is no point in punishing yourself," you interrupt his spiral. "It was a choice I made. I would do it again. It was what had to be done."

He swallows thickly when he knows the conversation ends there. 

__________

Some nights Bucky settles on pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and lingers there for a second longer than he should. 

You turn to face him from your place on the bed, looking at him like you've known him for centuries. Some nights it feels like you have.

_________

Bucky builds you a swing. It's a little ridiculous, and it takes a whole week to do it.

But your face breaks into the biggest smile he's seen since you got here, and he can taste the sun on his tongue. The strange feeling in his stomach is alleviated for a moment, and replaced with something closer to pride.

You spend hours on it while he works on parts of the house. He makes sure you've got a blanket with you at all times, even though you’ve never once told him you feel cold.

You ask him questions about everything. Him, the world; like you’re trying to relearn what you’ve lost.

"How long ago did you buy this place?" 

"Nearly two years ago," he replies, paintbrush in hand as he swipes up and down the deck. "Owners hadn't come here in a while and they wanted it off their hands quick, so I made an offer."

You hum, using the balls of your feet to swing yourself higher. "I have always wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this."

Bucky’s painting halts for a second as he fights a smile, but he doesn't respond. The squeaking of the swing stops. He looks over to you, only to find you already looking at him.

"Is this why you bought it?" you accuse.

Bucky returns to painting the wood, face turned away.

"You are far more of a hopeless romantic than I ever remember you being."

He scoffs out a laugh. "You'd'a run away."

"I wouldn’t have." You narrow your eyes. "I have had suitors in the past who've done far worse. You are far from the most embarrassing."

"You laughed when we kissed for the first time," he points out, amused.

Your jaw drops. "That was because I wasn't expecting it. You'd been courting me for months, I thought you were never going to move beyond that."

"I was tryin' t'be a gentleman," he defends. "I didn't know how they do it in Asgard."

"Well, for starters, they don't kiss someone after dropping tiramisu all over them."

He cringes, but it doesn't escape him that memories of the both of you feel like they're accompanied by a light this time, instead of dread. "Could you blame a fella for bein' nervous?"

"I do not know why, you had no reason to be."

He wants to ask if you've seen yourself before. He was damn near pissing himself whenever you got too close to him. The tiramisu was just collateral damage from when you chose to wipe cream smudged at the corner of his lip that night. 

When he lifts his head to look at you, you're back to swinging. Back to your own world. A new one you seem to have constructed for yourself since you came back. Back then he was privy to all your thoughts, no matter how mundane they were.

Right before he goes back to painting the deck, his brain makes a small connection. It's a small detail, but one that holds a lot more weight the more he begins to notice.

Your back curves in on itself ever so slightly. No longer pin-straight. His grip on the brush grows a little tighter.  

__________

February rolls around. Bucky's only managed to work up the courage to hold your hand occasionally when you go for walks.

Fingers laced in yours, he shows you parts of the woods he's discovered that stray from the main path. The shrubs that look like they're alight when the sunset catches them. The trees that have a hole right through the centre, like they've taken a bullet.

You keep him out longer and longer, and by now he’s run out of things to show you. He ends up repeating a lot, but you look glad each time, like you’re learning something new about him each day even though he’s dredged you through the same mud path at least thrice now.

He wants to think that it’s because you like having longer to hold his hand. 

You listen intently, asking questions whenever you could. You let him know what parts you like better, and parts you’re glad he’s left behind, even if it was recent. 

Bucky blushes from head to toe when you pick a flower and tuck it into his hair, and you smile it away with a swing of your hand. 

"You get visitors?" Your mouth moves in tandem with your fingers that weave together a crown from stray leaves and blades of grass. You tell him, even though he remembers, that it was something you learnt from Sif growing up. 

"Sam drops by every now 'n then."

"Do you visit them?" you ask, hands twisting deftly and with skill of someone who’s done this all too many times. "How has everyone been?"

Should he tell you he's been sequestered? That he dropped everything and disappeared overnight because the questions of 'are you fine?' and 'do you want to talk?' became as suffocating as a thick cloud of smoke.

"Last I heard, they were doin' alright." He hopes it's enough.

"I tried talking to Thor," you tell him casually, but it feels like a cold fist clamps down on his chest. 

“And?”

“I couldn’t hear him,” you tell him, just as normally and he’s disgusted that he feels even the tiniest bit of relief. “I couldn’t hear Heimdall either. I know he’d respond if he could hear me, so I can only assume he hasn’t.” 

“You’re sayin’ you’re not able to talk to them?” His voice sounds small.

“I believe I lost the ability to communicate with them,” you tell him, tying the last bit of grass together. “I don’t think there is precedence for when someone comes back from the dead.”

You hand him the crown, and Bucky doesn't dare to meet your eyes. It’s too small for him. It’s closer to the size for a child. 

"'M sorry, honey," he mumbles. It returns to his stomach. The sick, gnawing feeling that he’s tried to obtain salvation for.

"I still have you,” you tell him, “But you were here for this long without anyone. It must have been lonely.”

Truth be told, he never really noticed. It almost seems like he’s forgotten how it felt.

"Hasn't been for a while, now." He squeezes your hand.

"I don't like the idea of you staying here alone.” Your eyes scan his face. "You deserve to be around others."

Bucky doesn't know what it is about the way you say it-- like you're not entirely sure you're here either. Like you aren't real. 

He calls your name, unsure, scared even. You answer with a hum. 

"Are you okay with being here?" It’s too late to be asking this. 

Your face pulls together thoughtfully, but he can't decipher what you're thinking.

"I like spending time with you. Always." 

Your head leans on his shoulder, and you resume the tune you’re humming. Bucky tries not to think about the fact that you haven't quite answered his question.

_________

He wakes up on the ground again, not to your muffled groans or bed sheets being thrown to the ground.

You're not in bed. The window is open. There's scattering downstairs, and it's followed by a strange scent, and for a second he panics.

He scrambles down the stairs, mind already conjuring pictures and images so vile and ghastly--

But all he sees is you in his biggest shirt, one that you yourself once got him as a joke for a punchline he can’t really remember right now.

And you're surrounded by broken pans, bent forks and an entirely indiscernible charred mass on the bottom of a skillet.

"I tried to cook," you admit, "like on TLC."

"And you broke the pan?" he asks, a little stunned, a lot more in love. 

"I did not realise your cookware would be so weak." You try so desperately to hide a smile. "Tried to scrape it off using the fork."

He looks at the misshapen piece of cutlery.

"And what's that?" He slowly makes his way into the kitchen towards you.

"The remnants of a frittata." You hold it out to him.

Bucky takes the handleless skillet from you and looks at the ashes.

"What do you think?" you ask.

Bucky holds it back out to you. "Could use a few more minutes on the stove."

The smile you try to hold back breaks into laughter and his face lights up in surprise. It's the first time since you've gotten here, and the first time in years since he's been graced with the sound.

He bites his lip when you take it back from him, all while still giggling, like he doesn't quite believe his ears.

"I do believe I would fare better at toas-- oof."

Bucky pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you like a weighted blanket. The pan drops to the counter as his head falls to your shoulders.

"I missed you so fuckin' much," he utters desperately into your neck, clenching his eyes closed so tight it hurts.  

"I missed you too," you say softly, arms circling his waist, pulling him closer.

___________

The days start to get warmer. Your skin still stays cool to the touch. It's something he's getting used to. For years he was used to waking up at night to turn down the thermostat, just so that he could stay under the covers with you without burning up.

But while good days increase, there are the ones you spend too feverish to get out of bed. You sleep the whole day, only waking when he brings you food.

March fades the dark circles around your eyes as much as it can, but they never truly go. The scar on your stomach doesn't heal beyond a certain point, and is always ready to turn garish and violent on days you can't get your head to lift.

Bucky wonders if you’ll ever get better. 

Fevers break when the mornings do. You tell him you dream of the same thing over and over. Darkness, holding onto you with the same tenacity as a mother stops a child from running into a flame.

You walk with your shoulders drooped, and always some sleep in your smile. Sometimes he hears you call for your parents, who he knows haven't been around for a few hundred years. He hears Thor's name, and Loki's during nights that are more peaceful.

On days that are good, you spend time helping with the garden and for once, the flowers start growing. Tree bark he can't break into two, you manage with one hand. You watch shows together on the couch, and he massages your head when it's in his lap.

And finally, Bucky shows you the lake when it thaws over. Crystal clear waters let you peer at the little plants growing on the bottom, and the sunlight glows in the ripples.

You notice the engraving on the boulder before he has the chance to divert your attention. When you ask, he tells you about the little memorial and the rain and the loss of the hair tie. 

Your hand squeezes his a bit tighter. He thinks no memorial can hold a candle to that.

You look at your reflection in the water a lot. Bucky sits beside you, skipping stones to see how far it can go, like he did in the harbour as a kid. Steve always used to win, no matter how much Bucky tried. 

"There was a lake by my school when I was child," you tell him. "When I was mad, I used to skip class to go sit there for hours."

“What made you mad?” He chuckles.

“A lot of things. I had too much energy to just sit there, and that was ‘unbecoming of a future leader of Asgard’.” Your face pulls into one of distaste. “I always thought there was more to learn about the world than what their books contained.”

Bucky collects a few pebbles from around him. "Did the lake make you feel better?"

"Always." You take a stone from him to skip across the surface. "Sometimes my friends used to join. Our elders said the water had the ability to remember. Loki used to make faces, and it would always linger for a few seconds before it disappeared. Even after we thought he was gone, I'd see his face there."

Bucky stays quiet, nodding at points to let you know he was listening.

"I used to see younger versions of myself sometimes," you continue, voice distant. "It always surprised me. I thought I used to know what I looked like. It was different each time."

You inch towards the shoreline, leaning forward on your knees. The clear water looks like an open sky underneath you. "I look different now, too," you say. "But I can't remember what I used to look like."

Bucky discards his stones to come join you, leaning down to where you were. The face staring back at him pulls a sick, twisted feeling in his gut. Deep in him, he knows what you're talking about extends beyond immediate impressions. Centuries of being intertwined with the universe had always given you lines and traces that transcended your physical appearance. 

You have always felt like the God of the Night.

Now you have been to the other side and returned, seen things others haven't and still kept intact. While he doesn't have the courage to admit it, he knows in his blood what you feel like. 

He's scheduled an appointment with him many times, but always just missed it.

Now, you feel closer to the God of Death.

"You've always been beautiful. Still are." It's a band aid on a gaping, festering wound.

Even still, you look at him with a smile. "So are you."

Bucky makes the mistake of looking at his visage in the water, and immediately recoils.

"Christ," he grunts at the difference between the both of you. "What a fuckin' mess."

"Oh, it isn't that bad," you laugh, watching him contort his face.

"Easy for you to say, you look stunning." He points to your reflection. "I look like I was raised by wolves."

"You just need a shave," you hum.

"I need a new face."

You leave aside his last comment to propose something entirely new instead, "I could do that for you."

"What? Give me a new face?" he asks and you give him a pointed look. "Oh. Shave my beard?"

"Same thing, no?"

He supposes so. "Alright," he agrees, with a certainty reserved for no one else. 

A small smile appears on your face, even though you aren't really looking at him.

Bucky watches you lean forward. Your fingers dip into the water, disturbing the reflection.

_____

Late evening finds you settled on the counter, armed and ready. "Lot of trust you're putting in me."

"I'd trust you with anything," he says, looking in the mirror to check once again that foam covers every inch of hair on his jaw. "You know this."

"Still," you note, watching him tilt his chin up. "I could do this with a dagger, if you'd like."

"This works fine, thanks."

You let out a laugh, and he finally steps in front of you, satisfied with his part. You swish the razor into water once again just in case, before leaning forward.

The first swipe goes agonisingly slow. Bucky watches your face screw up in concentration as you scrape down his left cheek.

You pull back and make a face. He raises his eyebrow in question.

"You are too far away," you declare, wrapping an arm around his bicep and tugging him closer.

Your legs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, locking behind his back. His breath hitches in his throat the proximity but you appear entirely unfazed, washing the razor again.

"Are you okay?" you ask, keeping one hand on his neck for balance as you get a much better go at his face.

"Yep," he thinks he says. It may just have been a sound.

You could have spent hours there for all he cares. He's too focused on the pressure of your legs on the small of his back and the way he's basically melted into your hand.

"Your eyes have always been my favourite feature," you tell him, blade carefully running down the curve of his jaw. "When you smile hard, there are these lines in the corner. It's like you can't handle being that happy."

He can't tear his sight from you, and from the fact that this is the closest you’ve been in years. You may as well have been telling him utter nonsense, and he'd still find it hard to control his breathing.

"But I have a soft spot for this." You lightly tap the bridge of his nose. He knows immediately what you're talking about. "I will never forget how stupid you were. Throwing yourself in front of danger like that."

"Couldn't let that guy touch you," his voice comes out an octave lower than what it was. "I'd gladly take a few more punches."

"That's why they stopped pairing us up on missions." The corner of your lip upturns, and you swish the razor around in water again. "You were being reckless."

"I'd do it again."

"One scar is enough." You tilt his jaw to see if you'd gotten everything. "I don't enjoy you getting hurt on my account."

Bucky exhales deeply when you get started on the other side. His hands itch to hold your waist, pull you closer like it’s been carved into the strands of his being, but they stay by his side. 

"I tried for so long after you were gone," he tells you instead, to gain a sense of control. "I went to the therapist. I tried talkin' about it. No one got it. It was the same thing over, and over."

How do you explain that it wasn't simply a person. He thought that that was where it ended-- everything in his life had finally culminated. And that was taken too.

"Went back to the roof a month after everything happened," he continues, studying your reaction. "It was s'ppsed to be a clear night. There was nothing in the sky. I couldn't see the constellations. I couldn't see your family-- I couldn't see you."

You listen intently, but never stop working at him. The longer you spent there, the more of his old face revealed itself to you. Worn, and aged a thousand years in a few months, but it was still the still face you swore to love and cherish for aeons. 

"They took all your stuff. Said it belonged to Asgard, they couldn't keep it here. Thor went off grid. All I had was pictures of us and the hair tie you gave me."

You clean the razor off in water, eyebrows furrowing at the information.

"It felt like you were never here. Like I'd just made you up all those years." You can hear the faint trembling in his voice. "But I had memories of you in all these places-- and I couldn't stay. It was easier to move here and start again."

Looking back at him, you realise you've already finished. There was nothing left on his face to clear.

"Was it hard?" you ask finally, letting go of the razor in the water. 

He looks at you, and you know he's struggling to form the right words. He looked like he wanted to scream, rip the hair out of his scalp, punch a hole through the mirror. 

"More than anything.” His voice comes out raw and peeling. 

Bucky watches you look at him for a long moment, and he wonders if he’s said too much too soon.

But instead you kiss him.

His arms find its way back home around your waist, and he feels you sigh against his mouth before your body relaxes, tilting your head to deepen it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there,” you breathe, forehead leaning against his. 

"Don't," he begs.

You search his eyes for any kind of a message.

He kisses you harder, pulling you flush against him.

__________

Bucky moves into your bed after you threaten him well and good, and he knows you intend to keep your promises.

For the first time since he can remember, he keeps the windows open throughout the night and throughout the day.

It’s foolish, to think he was invincible. That what you had had finally cemented itself as final.  

You both stay in as long as you want. There is no hurry, nothing to get to. You talk a lot more. You begin to tell him sometimes at night that you see glimpses of what seemed like beyond the end.

Gold. Blood of ichor. Warriors fallen in battle go to Valhalla. Trees that kissed the skies, and valleys so green it hurt. Sometimes, in the corner of your eyes, you could see those you'd lost over the years waiting for you, hand outstretched.

No matter how hard he tries, Bucky doesn’t seem to get it. Every time he thought he was dead, there was only jet black silence and crushing pain. Then again, he never truly died.

But he isn’t ignorant. Fevers and fatigue that initially lasted a day, now knock you out for a week. There are times you throw up more than you've eaten, and the dark circles look like abysses.

He worries to the point of his stomach churning. You look like you don't have the energy to be here, even though you kiss him like you do. 

Bucky runs his hands over your scalp and tells you stories of his childhood. What he felt when you moved in with him, how anxiety made space for comfort. He reads you tales from other mythologies and marks the similarities in the stories you've told him over the years.

Each time you come around your smile gets more tired. Your shoulders grow heavier and your skin loses colour.

You still cook breakfast together. You still watch TLC together to figure out the culture on earth because even after all this while, you still maintain that's the best way to do it.

Things could still be good. But more often than not, Bucky wonders if he’s unknowingly surrendered you to a life you do not wish to live. 

_______

"Sweetheart?"

You continue to drag your finger through the water, oblivious to what he's saying. 

He calls your name, and there's still no response. April sees this happening more often, and Bucky's learnt that no matter what he does, it only seems to worsen.

He touches your shoulder lightly and you almost jump.

"It's getting late. Wanna head back?" he asks, because you’ve skipped out on lunch to stay by the shore the whole day. It seems like it’s the only place you want to be. 

"Yeah." You give him a small smile, wiping your hands on your pants.

"Want a hand?" he asks, holding out his.

You grab it, and pull yourself up, giving him a small peck on the lips along the way.

It feels comically normal. He wants to pretend that it is.

"Pasta tonight?" you ask breezily, slipping your hand into his.

Your fingers are ice cold to the touch. He forces back a shudder.

"Anything you want," he promises.

__________

He catches you humming as you water the plants, when you walk with him, while you read from the end of the bed. 

It's the song of my people, you tell him. They used to sing it when everyone was together.

He listens to the tune and tries to commit it to memory, but it changes far too often.

May catches you staring a lot more often. At walls. The trees. The lake is the worst.

On what would have been the fifth anniversary of the both of you being together, he brings you a cake. The both of you share it over a glass of wine, even though it clashes terribly and leaves an aftertaste.

You laugh harder than you have in the last few weeks and he gets to feel triumphant for an evening. 

You chase the frosting on his lips with a searing kiss, and that's that.

“What do you suppose it means?” you ask later that night, arm wrapped around his middle.

“What?” he mumbles, drowsy from a full stomach and good time.

“That I got a second chance and others didn’t?” your voice sounds distant.

Bucky is suddenly very awake.

“It couldn’t be that they weren’t as loved," you continue. "So then what made me different?"

He doesn’t have an answer.

He rolls over to look at you. But you are staring at the ceiling once again.

_________

His unwavering faith that he can learn to live with it feels like it’s eroding. 

Death changes everyone. He knows that before Steve left a few years ago, he wasn't the same Brooklyn-born spitfire. Steve's died a dozen or so times. He was reborn into a different soul each time.

Spring bounds towards you with warmth and life. The grass is greener, and Bucky's learnt there's more to life than just casseroles and toast.

You bring him more flowers to tuck into his hair. He wears them dutifully, and then learns to press them in between pages of books you both buy from old bookshops.

You give him wider smiles. You talk a lot less. 

Bucky learns that silence doesn't have to be filled. He's loved you in the winter, and he loves you in spring.

But there is always a tension simmering under the surface, just out of reach, like the sky reflecting in the lake. 

Sometimes you say things that he can't quite make sense of. Sometimes it's a lot more obvious, and the same feeling of guilt returns to his chest and flowers under his ribs.

So he asks you one day. You're on the couch, head in his lap while he reads a book you've annotated the week before. The only disturbances are when he stops occasionally to ask you why you liked a line, or why you drew a heart next to another.

You're humming the tune he can’t catch. 

There's nothing really wrong, but he knows. He can feel it in his marrow.

“Sweetheart," he calls gently. 

You look up at him. 

"Are you– are you happy?” And he leaves his heart, raw and unprotected on the line.  

You don’t look surprised. Not entirely knowing either.

A beat passes before you open your mouth to speak. 

“I like being here with you. I love you, I always have, and I will always love being here with you,” you choose your words carefully. “But I don’t know if I can feel that anymore. Happiness, I mean. Or sadness.”

Bucky keeps the book down. You don't lift your head from his lap.

“I feel like there’s a void where my body should be,” you continue in a chance to explain, “I feel like I'm made of air.”

“Are you feeling under the weather?” Bucky tries to find a rationalisation. Anything, that he can fix. That he can control.

You slight him a smile. “Not since the last bout.”

He doesn't know. He doesn't want to get it. He’s always felt that he was selfish, that that was ultimately what led to his punishments. This was a whole new level.

“I was born on Asgard. I have always felt like I was a part of the mud and the riverbed. They were a part of me as much as I was, them. I don’t know if that’s still…”

You pause, and Bucky feels time come to a standstill around him. 

“I’ve been reborn here,” you continue. “I don’t feel like anything is mine. I don’t feel like… I am a part of something. Even the night.”

He knew. Though he knows in his dreams he can still feel traces of Brooklyn carved into his bones, it had jaded over time, been eroded by years of waking up in places he couldn't place.

You sit up to look at him. Your eyes have an intensity to it that even the universe couldn't mask. 

“Do you really like who I am now?” you ask finally.

“I love all of you. Every one.” Ever changing, transient.

“How?” you ask softly. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He swallows thickly and wills himself to ignore the chill creeping into his body. In truth there is so much he wants to say. He doesn't think that as a war-fractured man from the thirties who grew up in bloodshed will really have the sufficient words.

“I just do. Can’t help it.”

Even if you aren’t satisfied with his answer, he will never know it. He has known for a while now that he's been letting you down since the day he walked into Wanda's cabin.

You give him a slight smile. Lay your head back down on his lap. His book remains unread.

It felt like the beginning of the end.

It's a simple decision then. It would have been, for anyone who wasn’t born with a soul as corrupt as his.

One more week that is hard for you to get up from bed, turns into two. One more week that your face morphs into something he can’t quite recognise. He's never wanted to harm someone he loves, but he seems to do a fine job at it.

It's a simple decision, really. But simple didn't mean easy-- God knows he is anything but a saint.

When you see it finally, the fruits of a labour that took far too less time to manifest than justified the time he spent putting it off, the smile that appears on your face is blinding, he wonders how the sun even has the gall to shine.

“Thor,” you breathe out, only seconds before being engulfed in the most bone-crushing hug you’ve ever received.

Bucky watches from the sidelines, fingers wringing and entirely ready to be smithed to ashes.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he breathes into your shoulder. "I cannot believe this."

You pull back, and standing next to Thor gives Bucky a new frame of reference. One that isn't dependent on how you looked the week prior. He doesn't know how it slipped past him, how he hadn't noticed that you looked so different.

“You look wonderful." You grin at the behemoth of a man. "Your hair has grown out once more."

"They can try cutting it off my dead body," he replies defiantly, arms clasping at your shoulders to keep enough distance to study you from head to toe. "You'll have to give me a second. I didn't think this would be true, when Heimdall gave me James' message."

You look over at Bucky whose lips pull together in a tight line. 

He looks embarrassed. Unsure. Afraid. Guilty, and prepared to be berated for how long it took him. 

"It's true," you reply instead, giving him a smile. "Here, in the flesh."

Thor squeezes your shoulder once more, and laughs the same laugh he's always had around you. Loud, boisterous and entirely free. 

"The others will be thrilled. Sif, Hogun-- you have no idea how the past two years have been. There is so much to catch you up on."

Bucky knows. The fact that you're standing there today is living proof that he knows so well.

“I cannot wait to meet them." The corner of your lips upturn wider at his enthusiasm. "I've missed them terribly."

"We did not get to give you a proper farewell. Your welcome back will be a thousand times better," Thor says brightly. "We can return as soon as you say the word."

You look to Bucky, not for permission, but as a question he's known has been awaiting him a long time.

"Ready?" you ask softly.

He knows you didn't have to ask. That if you'd left him there and never returned, he'd deserve it and worse.

But you're you-- patient and kind. And he thinks that he can try to start redeeming himself.

__________

Turns out he wasn't wrong. Asgard really is too grand for a fella like him.

It is opulence-- gold and towering heights that bleed the love of its citizens and a history richer than words can contain.

Thor is smart. Aside from Heimdall, who greets you with the hug a father gives a child who's been away for too long, no one knows of your appearance until you are ready.

You get a few days in the tower to yourself, to breathe in the air that grew your lungs and touch the marble you've split your head open against in the past. The help are sworn to secrecy, and no one knows who Bucky is anyway except as the man who has been specifically allotted to the same room as you upon your request.

It doesn't take long for your face to pick up. Your skin comes alive with a vibrancy he didn't think he'd see again. You sleep sounder at night, and you eat more than you've had the appetite for in the last few months.

He trails behind you and Thor initially, not wanting to eavesdrop into conversations he has no place being a part of.

But you grab his hand, lace your fingers in his and tug him along as if to say that this is his home too.

He sees what you mean when you say that you are connected to the land. Clothes on Earth have never fit you right. Silks from Asgard decorate you like you are one in the same, like it flows from you.

_________

Reunions are a tearful affair. Lots of hugs are exchanged, punches to the shoulder, and kisses to various parts of your face.

“You have been alive for months, and we are just now learning of it,” Sif holds your hands in hers. 

“It took me a while to recover.” You give her a small smile. 

“We would have come as soon as you called,” she continues. “You did not have to heal alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

Eyes turn over to Bucky, and he’s suddenly very aware that the clothes he’s been given are too rich for him, too grand. He feels small, like they drown him out.

Despite what he’s saying, he feels as though he has deprived you. He knows that he has, and he has no one else to blame but himself. 

“Thank you,” Sif says instead, taking him by surprise. “We will remember this.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies weakly.  

__________

It takes days to meet the closest of your friends, until they decide they had their fill. Bucky is slowly introduced to all of them. Boisterous and loud, most greet him with a wide appreciation. Others are less quick to warm, and he gives himself no room to blame them either. 

Upon insistence, he joins you for your welcome back dinner, and gets a seat right beside you. 

Your hand holds his the entire night, squeezing tighter when something makes you laugh, or when someone is particularly embarrassing.

When there is a lull in the conversation after hours, sly grins are exchanged.

"So, this is the one you raved on and on about." 

His eyebrows quirk in amusement.

"I did not rave," you huff. "I simply informed you--"

"For hours. Days even,” they drag on. “A great warrior from earth with eyes that could rival storms--"

Bucky chokes on his wine. You award your friends with several curses and glares.

"Long hair past his shoulders. Oh, and arms to die for--"

You take in the way his face has gone red, all the way up to his ears. You laugh and grip his hand tightly with an unabashed shrug.

"I am only glad that that's all you remember," you joke.

He thinks he should be buried in the garden for his sanity.

_________

Walks around the castle become increasingly common at night. You are mostly left undisturbed, and you take the opportunity to show him everything you've ached to.

Where you've learnt, where you first scraped your knee. The first arrow you shot. Where your parents met. The first and last time you cried over a friend gone astray.

He can't fathom why he ever thought he wouldn't be ready to know this. As if knowing more about you would cement the fact that he was lesser than.

“You look ethereal,” Bucky tells you one night, honest and true.

You look at him, a bit taken aback. There was nothing particularly different about you this evening. In fact, you’d chosen to stay away from festivities today to lie around the gardens with him, citing a headache.

“I should have said yes earlier,” he continues. “You belong here. It shows.”

A laugh leaves you as an exhale. “It feels different.” You run your fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if it would be the same if I brought you here years ago.”

“Different how?” Bucky closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your touch.

“I don’t know,” you tell him. “I am not sure it is what I remember it to be.”

You don’t say anymore. Bucky doesn’t ask. 

He lays with you under a clear night sky, and your fingers deftly move the faint lights in the sky to mimic shapes of fishes and hunters. 

He notices the sky here, too, has taken the same fate as it has on earth. Not as full as it could be, always just a little less bright.

He assumed it would change when you came back. He assumed it would change when you came to Asgard.

The sinking feeling in his stomach reminds him of what he already knows is going to come.

_____________

There are nights you are dragged off by your friends for things that don't include him.

You shoot him a sorry smile and he tells you to just go with steady reassurance.

Bucky takes to exploring. He's been given robes to blend in. They always fit in a way that's too soft.

He looks at statues erected, memorials in place for those who've given up their lives for a bigger cause. He spots your name in there as well, as if they've not yet entirely sure that you're back. He spends hours at the library, reading up on things he couldn't find on Earth. Where heroes slain in battle actually go, what it's like over there. Stories of when they are brought back. None of them end well.

Thor finds him, and introduces Bucky to Asgardian mead that he swears got Steve tipsy. Bucky’s had a rough couple of years. He’s in no place to turn down a drink. 

He remembers what it's like to be 21 and drunk again and like nothing bad can ever happen.  When you choose to join in with them, Bucky finds he’s a lot braver and a lot smoother with liquor flowing through his veins. 

Stumbling through tower hallways, giggling and stealing open-mouthed kisses in the shadows like a bunch of teenagers until he has your back pressed up against the bedroom door. 

“Eager?” you breathe out when he nips at your neck, hands scouring every inch of you he can find. 

“What gave it away?” he mutters, pulling away to look you. 

Wild eyes and equally untamed hair, and there is a light in his eyes that outshines supernovae. 

“I love you,” you tell him, and it’s a startling moment of clarity in the middle of a juvenile hour. “I hope that always remains with you.”

Before he can respond, you thread your hands behind his neck and steer him towards the bed, mouth never once leaving his. 

________

Another solitary night, and it's by pure accident that he ends up retracing his steps to the first place he was introduced to in Asgard. He wonders how much of it was intentional, his conscience forcing him to a reckoning long awaiting him. 

Heimdall is there as always, standing tall with a grace that is still threatening. Bucky is not a fool-- he knows he can sense his presence.

Still, he looks only for a moment before making leave. 

"I hear it was magic that brought her back," Heimdall voices.

Bucky pauses in his tracks.

"Yes," he says, like he’s forced to respond.

"Are you aware of what it takes to bring a body back from the dead?" Heimdall asks, tone still. "Cells are broken and reattached if they do not malfunction. The brain is attacked with sensation after being dormant for months. The heart pumps degraded blood through vessels that have collapsed."

Bucky feels bile rise to his mouth at a memory that seems so far away. Enough has happened since.

Heimdall looks at him, steel cut eyes boring into his. “Our ancestors have tried this for centuries,” he says slowly. “It has always ended the same way.”

Bucky keeps silent. Wonders if the God can hear him swallow the lump in his throat– probably can.

“Tempering with fate has never fared well.”

“I’m not trying to play with fate,” Bucky finds himself moving on its own accord. “If this wasn’t supposed to happen, it wouldn’t have. I am not a God.”

Heimdall stares into his soul and Bucky feels suffocatingly exposed. “The separation between divinity and mortals is thinner than you may imagine.”

“I have no interest in crossing it.”

“Haven’t you?” Heimdall’s eyes flicker over to the direction you were last going in. “When your will supersedes reality– what else do you call it?”

“Luck.” His voice comes back stonily.

Heimdall gives him a wry smile. “No such thing.”

Bucky’s palms feel clammy, his stomach twisting into knots.

“Your grief is natural. But do not let it overpower your love,” Heimdall adds. “I am sorry you had to go through this. I'm afraid sooner or later you will have to see that you cannot disrupt the natural order of things.”

"Why?" His voice cracks and he curses himself.

Heimdall's eyes soften. "There comes a point where your love for someone becomes indistinguishable from hurting them. Your intentions are noble, but you already know where you stand."

Bucky quietly turns on his heel and leaves, but the conversation remains heavy on his mind for days to come.

_________

The first time you fall sick, really sick, like you used to be on Earth, Bucky watches from the sidelines as various people tend to you. Those with divinity at their fingertips, those with herbs and concoctions he’d never heard of, others with tools and prayers and everything. 

They try everything. It takes you a full week to recover.

Bucky sits, emotionless by your bedside, and feeds you from a spoon, food that your friends swore you grew up loving. 

Asgard was supposed to work. Being here was supposed to work. No one knows what to do, except to wait it out. As your fever quells and Bucky watches you open your eyes for the first time in a few days, everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says quietly from your bedside. “How can I help?”

The smile you give him is tired. He gives you a small one in return, and leaves a kiss on your forehead. 

It feels all too familiar. 

God of the Night and the Devil of Cursed Fates.

_________

Thor teaches him the song, the one he caught you humming for months. It sounds different to what he remembers you singing.

He watches you thumb through titles in the Asgardian library, looking for a book of wildlife to show him. It only takes a few seconds for you to hum under your breath again, but Bucky is quick to ask this time. 

“Oh.” You blink. “I may have remembered it wrong.”

He tilts his head at you, but you go back to browsing through library books.

___________

Nights in bed, he spends tracing up and down your arm. He's full from a feast, and he's watched you dance around a courtyard with spirit and joy, and for the first time in years he feels like he can breathe.

You drag him along with you, and while he may have been quick on his feet in the thirties, Bucky was significantly older. You don't seem to care. You laugh like nothing has ever worried you before, and he finds it infectious.  

"D'you s'ppose we'd have been married by now?" he asks, breaking the quiet.

"I remember turning down your offer," you say, the corners of your mouth pulling upwards. "So, who's to say?"

Bucky's face breaks into a smile, one that looks particularly incredible in the moonlight. "You said I knew what the answer was already. Looks like that leaves the ball in my court."

You look at him, a little endearingly, and as he's come to expect, a little sad.

"I think we would have," you hum. "But you wouldn't have survived wedding festivities here."

He scoffs, rolling onto his back and feels his stomach ache dully. "Barely holdin' on now as it is."

You pull closer to him, fingers dancing across his chest. "Why didn't you try to find someone else?"

He exhales, sharper than he intends. "Didn't wan'to," he mumbles.

"I'd hate to think you didn't try to find others who loved you," you tell him, brows pulled together, "You have so much of it to give. It'd be a shame."

"Didn't see the point." Bucky hopes he doesn't sound as sharp as he does in his head.

"If something were to happen tomorrow, and I am no longer here," you begin and he wants to beg you to stop talking about this, "It would break my heart if you didn't go on with life as you were meant to live it."

"This is how I'm meant to live." He sounds pathetic-- obsessed, and entirely dependent but he isn't sure you know. "This is it. This is the best it's ever gonna get for me."

You look at him, eyebrows knitted. Your thumb caresses his jaw, running across the sharp curve.

"You deserve more," you say gently. "You do. Life has been unkind, but you will always deserve more."

You’re doing it again. Preparing him. For the inevitable he knows is looming on the horizon. The one he saw in Heimdall's eyes.

Still, you notice that it is too much for him, and you break the tension with a smile.

Outside the window, the sounds of a party continue on. You would be out there too, if he hadn't noticed the slow in your movements and the dip in your energy. He instead gave his lack of stamania as a reason and asked if you would join him in the room, for which you shot him a grateful look.

"You never gave me a ring," you remind instead, voice teasing.

Bucky looks at you wearily before silently getting up from the bed. 

You sit up in confusion, watching him trail across to the wardrobe and pull out the clothes he was wearing on his first day here.

He shuffles back into bed and turns to you, holding out his hand in a request.

It takes a second but you give him yours, and he silently slides a ring onto your finger. Even in the darkness it glitters like it’s made of light.

"I've had it for ages," he tells you. "Woulda given it to you quicker if you'd just said yes the first time."

You laugh loudly, and hold his face in yours before kissing him hard to the sounds of a fading party.

__________

The effect wears off gradually. It goes the same as it does in the cabin. 

You begin to space out visits. Stay in for a day or two, which increases as time passes. Though the castle help are ever gracious and at your beck and call, you send them away in exchange for quiet nights in.

Bucky wipes your forehead with cool cloth. Feeds you nectar by hand and tells you of everything he's learnt since the time you've arrived there.

You begin to look sick again, and miserably, he does not know what to do. You've been attended to by the best of medicine that the nine realms have to offer. You've spent nights with your friends, drinking in joy and embodying love.

But you are dying. You have been since you came back, and he can no longer choose to look past it in hopes for a remedy.

He looks at you like you've given the world the light it bathes in, and wipes your perspiration with his thumb.

You smile back at him in your sleep, and he lets that slow the march towards the end.

_________

One of the good days, you lead him to the lake. The one where water remembers. You point out faces. He discerns them to be some of your friends a couple of hundred years ago.

He follows as you walk along the banks, letting you show him yourself through the years. Some streaked with tears, others with joy so infectious it has his stomach doing flips.

"That is the last time I came here," you point at the last one. "Two months before it happened."

He remembers the trip. He thought he remembered how you were back then, that he'd etched into the crevices of your mind.

When he looks down, he sees a different person. Your face is light. The weight of circumstance does not weigh you down.

You were right when you said you did not recognise the person you were.

That night in bed, he holds onto you tighter than he has, no longer afraid of causing more damage. He has already done the worst, and you've taken it without a word.

“Bucky,” you call.

He doesn’t trust his voice to answer, so he just makes a noise.

Your eyes meet his intently and he knows. You do not have to say a single word to him. 

You’ve made a decision. It was your will, as Wanda had told him all those months ago.

“I'm sorry,” his voice cracks. “I'm so sorry. It was so selfish.”

“It's okay,” you press a palm against his cheek and shudders from the cold.

“I love you.” His eyes burn, but he forces himself to take more of you in. “I love you so much, I'm sorry. I just wanted a second chance.”

“I know.” You smile but your voice is sad. “I know. I understand.”

“I don't know how you aren’t angry at me." I don’t know why you stayed.

You look him in his eye, giving him no space to run. "I would have done the same. If I could, I would have done the very same thing."

He chooses to believe that, despite what Heimdall has told him. If he tries, he can find heat in the frigid veins.

"But we are simply delaying the inevitable, my love." You press a kiss to his forehead. "I no longer belong here. I am not who I was. I doubt I will ever be."

He loves every version of you. He already loved, and he will always learn to love whoever you change to be.

"I know it is hard, but I have to go," you tell him softly.

His eyes burn and his head stings.

"I grew up with friends I loved, and a family that loved me. My life was good," you tell him. "I didn't realise how much I wanted to give that forward until you happened. I will always love you for that."

Bucky kisses you till you can't breathe and his tears mix with yours.

Till the morning breaks and you have to tell everyone of your decision, he tells you over and over again a tale you already know. Everything he's ever felt. Everything that’s happened in the last few months– his revolving door of therapists and all the movies he’s watched and all the bakery foods he thought you'd like.

You listen, and you tell him stories he memorises to heart. You are still dying. 

But this time he is there, and in that lies his true second chance. 

________

A month later, and not a day before that.

You pass away quietly, surrounded by people instead of rubble. He holds your hand throughout, and for long after even once your chest stops rising.

The Asgardians let him stay for as long as he wants, still and quiet. No one says a word as he presses a kiss to the crown, leaning his forehead against yours for as long as the universe permits.

The funeral goes by in a haze. Everyone gathers, even after such short notice. No matter how much time he had to prepare, the air was thick, and he swallows down his discomfort.

A gentle breeze whispers through the columns of the great hall, carrying with it the soft, mournful melodies of Asgardian lyres and flutes.

In the center of the pyre, you lay, ethereal even in repose. Around you, night-blooming flowers bloom alongside, as if the sky itself was paying its respects.

Thor recites the ancient eulogies. With reverent hands, they guide the vessel into the river that flows through Asgard.

As the vessel drifts away, a hush falls over the assembly. Just before reaching the edge of the waterfall, arrows shoot fire onto the wood, letting the flames consume the casket. Bucky holds back a cry. 

Thor hits the staff, and the casket continues onward instead of falling off the edge. Within a flash Bucky sees an orb rise above you and shoot off towards the sky.

Thousands of lights are let loose into the sky. He closes his eyes, says a few words no one will know except you, and lets go of the soul orb given to him.

And that was it.

________

Bucky looks at the last of his belongings, tied tightly together. 

There were a few things he was allowed to take with him, things that belonged to you while you lived here. He's grateful more than anything, that he's not relegated to photos.

He was made to stay a few more days in Asgard while everything was completed. Though the people were lovely, and he's more than glad he came, he knows that this was where this ended.

He exhales, looking back at the place where he spent the better part of three months.

"You will be alright?" Thor asks, walking with him to the courtyard.

He shrugs. It was still fresh, but the utter despair he had felt the last time had been replaced with a quietness.

"You?" he asks in return.

Thor smiles, and claps his back and Bucky is forced to take a step forward.

"It will be an honour to remember her," he says, and for a moment, Bucky feels a sense of peace at his words. "You are always welcome here."

A small laugh leaves Bucky in the form of an exhale. "Don't be a stranger, Thor."

The God summons the Bifrost and the force is enough to make Bucky hold his hands up to his face.

"I'll see you around. Thanks for everything." His lips pull together in a tight smile.

Thor takes a second, but then says, “You will be alright, James.”

It’s reassuring, he thinks. Bucky nods and turns, taking a step towards the bridge.

"Wait," Thor calls loudly, "I almost forgot."

He turns to him in confusion, and a list of possibilities running through his head.

"She told me to give you this," he says, "She used to carry them around for us."

From around his wrist, he pulls off a hair tie and holds it out to him.

Bucky takes it, a little stunned.

________

Two months pass.

Bucky stands on the threshold of a door that is foreign to him.

His head falls, but his arms raise either way. Two swift knocks and he takes a step back. He looks around nervously, hands stuffing into his pocket. His car lays at the end of the long driveway, ready to leave at any given moment.

For a second, he thinks about making a run for it. But the door swings open and Bucky's eyes quickly dart up.

"Hey," he says, voice coarse. "You got space for one more?"

Sam looks at him in initial surprise, but it fades to softness when he notices the shape the man is in.

“C’mon, Buck,” Sam says softly. “We’ve got you.”

Bucky lets out a staggered breath, and leans over to pick up his backpack that Sam's already beaten him to.

He takes one good look at the sky. Dark, clear and finally returned to the way it had been for centuries.

But he swears that a single star in the corner of his eye shines a little brighter than the rest.

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

The Hunt

Shouma Toriashi X reader ( chapter 1)

Word count: 1163

TW: not really just so strong language…

Summary: life as we know it can change in an instant, and so do feelings and the people you meet.

MASTERLIST

chapter 2

A/N: HEY GUYS this is just a small project I wanted to start! I just got done reading the manga so I’m going to re-read it and hopefully I can better depict the characters better!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY ( p.s. DONT WORRY IM GOING TO HOP BACK ONTO MY OLD STORIES OF L AND LEVI! )

It was another day of school and homework on homework that’s been passed out.. I never understood why they bombard us like we don’t have other classes to work on.i look over to see Yoshino already walking towards my desk, with that I sit up straight ready to hear what she has to say .

“ hey Y/N do you want to come over? Shouma and I are going to study together?” Yoshino asks while putting both her palms flat against my desk and looks down at me.

“ oh yeah sure..” I nod in agreement. Behind me is shouma but he’s usually in his own world .

“Great, well I guess this is where we part ways, we’ll meet at the school entrance after this period.” With a firm nod Yoshino walks away and out of the once shared classroom we had. I stare at the class room door watch as students walk out together all looking the same as the other. Ever since I was younger I saw majority of everyone the same. Bland and simple, each face the same as the last.

At first glance people might look at us and think what an Odd group, then again we are really only each others friends. But it was for the first time that I saw people. I saw character in both Yoshino and Shouma. Deep in thought I shake out of it, and With that I get up and gather my things getting ready for the next class, physical education.

Oh how I dreaded that class, simply because it’s where both shouma and I lose our cool.

“ Hey” you kick Shouma’s chair to grab his attention. “ get up before we miss our last class.” With a look that could kill Shouma glared at me but gets up to follow.

I finally changed into the PE outfit but as always the bottoms are just too short. “ are you kidding Me I literally got then in a bigger size to hopefully be longer!! CURSE YOU ABNORMALLY LONG LEGS!”

You and Yoshino are one of the tallest girls in your class, in the whole school in fact and everything you’ve come to wear has always been an issue with length. With a sigh I muster up the courage to leave the changing room, and to my disappointment none other than Toriashi Shouma is waiting outside the female dressing room.

“Couldn’t find any shorter shorts Y/N?”

“Shut up Toriashi, these are the longest pair I have.” I huff walking away from him.

Today was a game of volleyball, not my favorite but one that i can stand. That is until I found out Shouma is on my team! Ugh I swear if I lose because of him, he’s dead meat.

“ better not fuck this up Shouma.”

“ Don’t worry, maybe if you had a bigger ass I’d be distracted.”

How dare he… that’s it he’s dead. I try to ignore his comment and walk to my center position like the team agreed on, waiting for the game to start.

During the whole game I could feel someone’s eyes on me, analyzing every movement. I should be used to it, considering being friends with Yoshino, she has hundreds of eyes watching her every move anytime we go out in public. But this gaze is different .. much different.

As the game continues on, And like always Shouma and I are fighting for dominance on our side of the court.

“ you idiot, I said it was mine! Why did you jump forward!”

“ because it was clearly in my side Y/N”

“ no it was not Shouma and you know it! You did it on purpose, there was no reason for you to be that close to my back!”

Mid game while we were taking the 3 min break trying to switch sides of the court, Shouma comes up wrapping something around my hips.

“ what are you doing?” I look down at what’s around my hips and up to the person who’s hands are tying The Jacket into a knot.

“ just keep it on”

“ Shouma you’re supposed to keep your arms covered” I whisper yell at him, I swear he never used his brain.

“Just keep it on.” He mumbles before walking away, with a sigh I just brush it off and try to focus on the game. Shouma has always been so annoying like my brother. Always trying to boss me around and oh does it make my blood boil. What makes me more upset is i always try my best to make sure he’s always covered at all times and no tattoos peak through, but he just doesn’t care.

The game finally ends and I walk up to him ready to hand him his jacket back.

“ here take it ba—.”

“ I said keep it on Y/A.”

“ the game is over, I’m giving it back to you now.”

“ No, go change, once you are changed you can give it back.” He grabs the sleeves of the jacket and ties it back firmly around my hips. I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m just going to listen to him.

“ I said take your damn jacket bastard!” I untie the jacket and chunk it at him and walk away back into the changing room. This man infuriates me, it’s not like I wasn’t Thankful but I will not be bossed around, especially by him! Who does he think he is , my father?

I quickly change out of my outfit and back to my regular uniform once I’m showered and clean. With that I grab my bag and belongings and walk out the changing room, that is until I see what looks like a fight about to happen.

“ Keep your eyes and comments to yourself.” Shouma is holding one of our male classmates against a wall. I can only imagine why this is happening.

“ Shouma that’s enough, let's go.” I grab his other hand that was free and pull him away from the poor boy. The thing about Shouma, he’s well behaved for the most part, but there are times where he’s a ticking time bomb.

“ This is why I tell you to cover up your tattoos, if you don’t want people looking Listen to me.”

“ and the next time I tell you to keep the jacket ,listen to me. There won’t be a next time actually, next time you’re wearing my jogging pants.” He fights back with an attitude in his tone.

“ Like hell I am, they are too big on me.”

“ i don’t care.”

“ I’m not going to wear them, focus on covering your tattoos and stop focusing on me.” I bite back with the same attitude.

“ and rather they focus on my tattoos and not on your whole legs!”

“ Hey, what’s going on guys? You guys can be heard miles away.” Yashino walks up to where I and Shouma are standing .

“ He’s blaming me that my shorts are too short. That’s what he’s complaining about Yashino .”

“ Excuse me ? Shouma do you think we want to be this tall where nothing fits!” Yoshino jumps into the argument.

“ I’m not blaming anyone, both you and Y/N need to just wear pants instead during physical education.” Shouma closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“ you don’t tell us what to do!” Both Yoshino and I yell in unison.

“ you know what… I don’t give a fuck , lets just go home for fuck sakes.” Shouma pushed through, leading the way back to both him and Yoshino’s place.

[crossbowwwdotcom]

camilo's blue lock ff reccs ^_−☆ (as of december 25, 2023; may be updated):

- a shiver i cant shake by lockedskies .., 4k words and 1/1 chapters. a tabiori ff where they carpool on their way to bluelock from kansai which turns into a sort of roadtrip ff that lowkey had me kicking my legs

- behind the mask by kae_karo ... 6k words and 1/1 chapters. tabieita assasin au where theyre trying to kill each other but theyre pining!

- white tea and blackberry pie by juryrouge ... 12k words and 2/2 chapters. a kaisagi future ff from an outsiders pov of them slowly getting set up! its just rly cute

- electric blue by ithildin_23 ... 13k words and 4/? chapters. ANOTHER kaisagi ff where theyre all content creators! isagi is a gamer whos RLLY good at valo and kaiser is a blogger. unfortunately discontinued but still one of my favs!

- and if you flow with me (i hope it goes slow) by xshieru .., 18k words and 1/1 chapters. RLLLY cute bachisagi ff where they slowly get together over the course of blue lock. just generally rlly cute ^^

- im scared you wont be waiting on the other side by jumpinginmuddypuddles ... 7k words and 2/6 chapters. bachisagi where isagi is being hunted down and bachira is his bodyguard. very good but it hasnt been updated in so long so 😔

- like staccatos by rinksskii ... 18k words and 3/? chapters. rinsagi orchestra au with a very interesting plot that im very curious about!! sadly has not been updated in a while

- customer service by amazing__gracie ... 3k words and 1/1 chapters (but is the second work of a two work series!). very funny rinsagi where rin is a racer and isagi is an awesome mechanic. from the tags: "rin likes isagi" "isagi likes rin's car"

- no mountain too high, no river too wide by miyaeruisa .,, 36k words and two work series. featuring: figure skating kaisagi. GODDD ITS SO GOOD!! rivals to lovers with great amounts of balance of focus on the individual chars and their relationship and one of my favs to reread (esp the second work)

- go together by heartbeatrelics ... 3k words and 1/1 chapters. nagireo ff where nagi is searching for an apartment for him and reo to live in while reo has no idea theyre gonna live together...theyre so domestic and ughhhh yeah!

- kintsugi kids by retrosas ... 10k words and 1/1 chapters. rare chigisagi ff where theyre childhood friends and chigiri is healing from his knee injury (+ an isagi injury). really good!

- got me feeling like damn! by retrosas ... 11k words and 2/2 chapters. allsagi ff with just. everyone simping over each other while at a bllk party. SOOO rereadable!! staged in the future

- apricot scones by orphan account ... 4k words and 1/1 chapters. soft coffee shop bachisagi EXCEPT a secret someone is actually spiderman!!!! sooo cute

- sights worth seeing by mxmasochist ... 15k words and 6/6 chapters. 5 + 1 ff featuring yukki's injury!! just some plain old good hurt/comfort

- rhythm only you can follow by katlov ... 8k words and 1/1 chapters. kurosagi in bastard munchen where theyre just. soft. real cute and kurona gets hit in the face

- and they were roomates by chameleonardodicaprio .., 17k words and 2/2 chapters. nagireo stuff that had me TAKING LAPS. this is so!!! nrhdkdvj!!!! just nagireo being gay and everyone speculating in the nel

- the third time by anonymous .., 66k 12/? chapters! rinsagi stuff where isagi is a super famous idol and rin is training to be his backup dancer!! realllly good stuff with both of them being good at what they do and. yeah!

- the universe thinks we should kiss or something by misstresssleepless ... 4k words and 1/1 chapters. AWESOME tabieita soulmate au where theyre just a little funky. figuring things out for 4k words basically

- im working on it by orphan account ... 52k words and 10/10 chapters. LAST CHAPTER IS SMUT beware!!! really good slow burn tabieita in blue lock with great character plot!! theyre so cute

- the little things by meemawz ... 1k words and 1/1 chapters. just a gen fic of isagis senses being way too strong. very cute hurt/comfort and fluff (i also love this trope so much plspls write more for this)

- streamer nagi cinematic universe by okwa ... 12k words and 4 works. what it says on the tin! js lots of cute stuff with nagireo!

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Got this idea while in the shower and an au where Jack and Maddie didn’t actually care about ghosts anymore. It was all a front. An act they put on to hide what they are really after.

They used to care back in collage but once they realised the government was getting on the bandwagon they decided they didn’t care anymore. (Gov probably asked for something from them that was just the worst).

Anyway this happens when Jazz and Danny are still pretty little. These kids couldnt get along for anything. Jazz a once only child now has to make way for Danny. Danny who doesn’t understand why Jazz doesn’t like him decided it’s only fair to be mean back and try to pull as much “im smaller than her” crap as he can. Their parents just don’t know what to do. And are at their wits end.

One day everything changes when the kids come home from school. Jack and Maddie are to busy being destraut over not getting as much government funding cause they just realised how crappy and insane their government is. They don’t notice that for the first time the kids didn’t come into the house bickering after the bus ride. The house is quite for a change so they can be lost in their heads imagining the worst the government has done with their inventions.

Anyway Jazz and Danny are in Jazzes room looking at a picture book and Jazz is reading to Danny when the parents finally realise something is up. Shell shocked (thats a good handsoap) they stand their frozen as Jazz patiently reads to Danny and even holds out the book to him for him to see the pictures. Turns out it’s a book about unicorns…. All thru dinner Jazz and Danny happily tell their parents about how amazing unicorns are. No fighting or anything. Not even talking over one another. They stare in awe at how Danny is smiling at his sister waiting for his chance to speak. Or how Jazz is helping Danny find some of his words by encouraging him in the conversation. It’s a miracle they think.

Then it hits them. This is what they can do. They will find a unicorn for their children. How hard can it be to hunt down another mythical creature. It will be a surprise for their kids too! Nothing too good for them after all. Wanting to keep it a secret they keep up the ghost hunting act. Making a few crappy inventions for the government here and there but all of them are for a different target. As the years go by they lean to much into the crazy ghost hunter act and even their kids think they are craY. Even making a ghost portal by mistake. It was supposed to be a window. Viewing the location of a unicorn smh. But all their ghost talk was hollow and even kinda fun. It was a great game for them. Hey dear how do you wanna look insane today. How long till someone cracked and actually tried to get them tried for insanity. I guess it was kinda like LARPing. Maybe it was too fun to just let loose and say some crazy shit ok. But no matter how much work they put into their ghost huntersonas they never lost soght of their true goal. A unicorn for their children.

Anyway it’s an au where jack and maddie just pretend to give a shit about ghosts but danny is in the back having the most stressful time possible for basically nothing. I mean with how often jack and maddie miss phantom when shooting it’s hard to believe they miss that much. Plus jack works with phantom. Imagine this reveal. Danny is probably so relieved hes crying and with how much tension just left his body I wouldnt be surprised if he doesn’t become a puddle on the floor. Jazz on the other hand is like “finally proof I was right. You fuckers are insane” who puts up that act that long and doesn’t tell their kids. Or even goes so far as to actually neglect their kids. (To be fair jack and maddie where still inventing just unicorn finding stuff)

[hunted-moth]

Just Like Him: The Before Times 

Word count // 7k

Summary // Y/n is just a normal girl who loves to hunt with her dad. She has a loving and attentive mom. Her relationship with her brother is rocky at best but she still loves her small little life. That is until it's all turned upside down after she gets into an accident, with her dad passing away and her mom flushing her life down the toilet how is she supposed to manage when the world ends with it?

Warning // Language, character death(not twd cast), Talks of death, violence, the killing of walkers, 

Special Thanks to @catbunblue302 and my friend for editing/proofreading this with me, it would be a disaster if they didn't lol

OTHER STUFF// This is just the prologue, it's kind of important but you don't have to read it. But I gave Y/n the nickname Bear, idk why but I love it so im keeping it. She also has shorter hair in the beginning and in my mind is Biracial but her race isn't brought up very much. But things like hair texture, skin color, and eye color aren't mentioned or described so it is up to you how Y/n looks to you

A/N // its in gods hands now. this is like half edited by someone who knows what they're doing and the other half done by me at like 11:00 at night.

***: Major time Skip/scene change

*: small time skip/scene change

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     ~~~2005~~~

             It was early in the morning, maybe five or six. You were fast asleep dreaming about nothing and everything, but while you lay sleeping, a figure crept into the room being careful not to wake you.

When he got to your bed, he hovered over it ready to pounce on you. You were snoring into the night, unaware of what was about to happen as he snaked his hands under the cover skillfully and-

“Wake up, bear! We got lots to do kid.” Your Dad tickled your sides as you yelped and writhed from joy. 

“Dad! Sto-stop I can't brea-breathe,” you laughed. 

He smiled down at you before he got up, releasing that classic dad grunt while laughing quietly.

“Alright, get dressed, then get something to eat.” 

You smirked up at him and flung your cover off yourself. 

“Already one step ahead of you,”you say, revealing to him that you were already dressed in your hunting clothes, minus your boots. 

He chuckled quietly, careful not to wake up his wife and stepson. He nodded his head, telling you to get up and go to the kitchen. You rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and had some fruity pebbles. Your dad just had a pop-tart that he popped in the toaster. 

While he was waiting for it to ding, he looked at you. He saw you scarf down your food as fast as you could.

“You know you can enjoy it, right?” he teased, but you just looked up at him while the spoon was still in your mouth. 

“I know, just eager to leave.” Your mouth was full and milk streamed out of your mouth. 

Your dad just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

POP!

He grabbed his food and went to sit with you. Looking up, you asked him a question. “So what are we doing today?” 

Your dad took a bite of his pop-tart. “Hmm, well I was thinking about going into town and getting some more snacks for the trip. Maybe some extra bug spray.” 

You nodded at that. “Yeah, they love me for some reason.” 

He smirked. “Yeah, it's ‘cause you got sweet blood, they like it.” 

Your eyes widened. “WHAT!” You practically yelled. 

You covered your mouth hoping not to awaken your half-brother and mom.

But it didn't help. 

“The hell’s all this racket!?” Your older brother, Jason, stormed in with an annoyed and tired look on his face. 

You looked at your brother when he walked over. He was three years older which made it easier for him to ignore you. He was indifferent towards you, like you didn't matter to him. The only time he gave you any attention was when you irritated him, like you were bothering him with your existence. 

Jason and your dad had a hard relationship. For some reason, Jason was always rude to him. Whenever your mom wanted to tease Jason she would explain how when she and Dad had started dating Jason would throw fits when Dad came over. And how Jason would stare at your dad with a mean glare. Jason had the meanest glare, it could put the old judgy ladies at church to shame.

“Sorry, son, me and your sister were just talking about our trip.”

Jason seemed to glare at the word ‘son’. Your brother looked at the clock on the wall with a sleepy stare. “It's five in the mornin', so stop yellin' in the house, Y/n.'' He looked down at you as he walked over and made a bowl of cereal, the same as you. 

“O-okay, sorry.” You looked down meekly at your nearly empty bowl. 

Your dad sighed, “Well, we're about to leave.”He looked at Jason. “You sure you don't want to come with us, Jason? Wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

He responded with a quick “No.”

Relief washed over you. 

“I’d rather shoot by myself than with her.” He glared at you. 

You looked away from his glare and shrank into yourself.

Your Dad sighed and got up. You copied him and went to put your bowl in the sink. You rushed to your room and went to get your bag and put your boots on. By the time you left, it was about five-thirty in the morning, and the sun was already starting to rise as you and your dad got into his truck and started driving to town.

Looking out the window, you could see the familiar trees and a few birds flying by. You always loved the woods. It was quiet, yet the singing of birds could still be heard in the distance. Looking into the rearview mirror, you could see your cabin disappearing in the distance. 

“You excited, kid?”

Turning your head, you looked at your dad with a smile, “Yes!” you exclaimed excitedly.

Your dad chuckled. “Oh, I bet, bear, but uhh, been wanting to talk to ya ‘bout something.”

You tilted your head with curiosity. “What, Dad?” 

He sighed lightly. “Yer teacher called your Momma and me yesterday to discuss your schooling. They said you were falling behind in yer work, withdrawing from other kids, and advised me to talk to you. Can you tell me why, bear?”

You looked out the window without answering. 

“I won't push you right now, but if you ever want to talk,” he trailed off and rubbed your shoulder the best he could while driving.

***

              By the time the truck made it to town, the sun was up. The truck pulled into the mini-mart. You jumped out of the truck and waited for your dad, before sprinting into the mart and grabbing different snacks you liked. You had an armful by the time you returned to your dad at the counter.

He looked down and his eyes widened at your selection. “Jeez, Bear, you going into hibernation?” He let out a hearty laugh. Grinning at him, you put your snacks on the checkout counter.

“One thing I love about you two coming in here-” The owner started to ring up your stuff, “I always make money.” 

Your dad waved his hand at them dismissively before grabbing the bags and handing them to you.

“Let's get a move on, don't want to miss any of the good spots.” Hopping into the truck, Dad started it and headed out to your campsite.

***

             A few hours had passed by the time you made it to the site. Hopping out of the truck, you went around back to the truck bed and grabbed your bag and bow. Your dad set up the tents and you set up the fire pit, gathering some rocks and stacking them, then went to find some sticks.

When it all was done, your dad came over and patted you on the shoulder. “Ready, Bear?” 

You looked up at him. “Yeah!” 

You grabbed your bow and followed him into the woods. Stopping at a clearing, your dad put his stuff down and stood next to you.

“All right, Y/n, you remember what I taught you?” He knelt as you grabbed an arrow and drew your bow back. 

“Where do you want me to shoot?” You looked at him. 

He thought for a moment, looking around, till he stopped his gaze at a certain tree with a unique-looking branch that hung low on the ground. He pointed. “See the knot in the tree? Shoot that.” 

You nodded your head and tightened the bow once more. 

You held your breath and focused on the knot on the branch, taking a second before you released your arrow. You heard a thunk as it hit the tree and you looked to see if you had hit the knot, but sadly your aim was a little off. It was a few inches to the right. “Aww, I missed it.” You kicked the dirt slightly.

Your dad stood up and went to retrieve the arrow. “It’s ok, sweetheart, you're getting better just remember that.” He tried to cheer you up. “Remember when I first took you out here? Your arrow would be two or three feet away from the target.” 

You smiled to yourself.“Thanks, Dad.”

He walked over and crouched down to your height. “Now let's try again.”

He handed you your arrow and ruffled your hair. You smiled to yourself. Regaining your stance, you drew back your bow and released another arrow. You hit it closer every time. And when you finally manage to hit it after your third time, you jumped up and down in joy. 

“Good job, Bear, why don't we try something harder hmm?”

You nodded, and he took your quiver, put it over his shoulder, and took your hand, leading you deeper into the woods.

***

             It took hours before you returned to your camp, the whole time spent practicing your aim on things besides the normal target. By the time the sun was down, your dad decided it was time to head back.

*

             Your dad had started the fire and was cooking some hot dogs for the two of you. “You have fun, Bear?” 

You look at him. “Yeah, I got better at my aim I think. What about you Dad?” You ask, tilting your head at him. 

“Hmm, it was amusing to see you miss sometimes.” He pulled out your food from the fire while you groaned with embarrassment. 

You ate your food while looking up at the stars. “Hey Dad, what's that one called?” You pointed up at the sky. 

“Hmm, I think it's Orion. He was a skilled hunter who used a bow, and some say he managed to woo the heart of the virgin archer. He even claimed that he ‘could hunt any and every animal’, but Momma Gaia heard this and sent a mighty scorpion after him, which is why–” he lead your head to another part of the sky. “–If you can find him, you’ll see Scorpius, the very same scorpion that killed him.” 

Looking at the stars, your mouth was agape. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath and rested your head on his shoulder.

After a few hours, you and your dad went to bed. 

***

              The end of your weekend trip went by fast, and before you knew it, you were on your way home eating a bag of chips while listening to the radio. 

Your dad was focused on the road, but the conversation about your schooling was still playing in his head. "Bear, we still need to talk." He said. You paused for a moment, not wanting to have this conversation. Since starting school, you've had trouble keeping up with the other kids. Since you were behind, your classmates would treat you differently.

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, looking down at the floor. 

Your Dad looked over, sadly. "Can you tell me about it? You don't have to tell me everything."  

"The others treat me differently, and I don't know why.” You looked out the window again, trying to focus on the songs the birds were singing.

Stopping the truck, your dad pulled you into an embrace. “It’s ok, Y/n, I'll tell your Momma and we’ll talk to your teacher, okay?” He looked down and rubbed your shoulder, waiting for an answer. 

“O-okay.” Your voice was muffled

The truck started again and you both drove off toward your cabin. 

***

              When you got home, it was around dinner time. Since it was a Sunday your mom was making your favorite for dinner. Your truck pulled up, and you ran out of the cab and into the arms of your momma.

“MOMMA!” You tackled her, sending her stumbling back a bit. 

“Hey, baby, how was your trip?” she asked with a loving smile.

Looking up at her, you gave her a big grin. “It went awesome! I got better on my aim and distance.” 

She smiled down at you. “Well, that's amazing, maybe one day you’ll be better than yer daddy.” She ruffled your hair. “Now come on, supper’s cooking, want you and yer daddy to get washed up.” She shooed you away into the house.

Running to your room, you grabbed some shorts, a T-shirt, and other stuff and ran to the bathroom, but your brother was walking by and had a sour look on his face. 

“Yer back.”

You looked down. “Yeah, how was it here?”

He glared down at you. “Peaceful, shoulda stayed that way.” He walked past you and bumped your shoulder.

***

              When you got out of your shower, you went to the kitchen to help your mom cook but just ended up sitting on the counter and telling her about your trip with your dad.

“Then Dad told me to shoot an apple that was still on the tree.” You told her excitedly. 

“Wow, baby, did ya hit it?” 

You nodded. “Yep, it fell and knocked down some apples with it. Dad and I ate them on our walk back to camp.” 

“Sounds like you two had quite the adventure.” Your mom said as she stirred the pot.

She took the pot off the burner and walked to the dinner table. You followed her and sat down. 

“Yep, it was.” While your mom grabbed other things for dinner, you helped set the table.

            “BOYS, DINNERS READY!” she called.

Dad came out of the garage and Jason came out of his room. You sat next to Mom, across from Jason, and Dad across from Mom. After everyone was seated, Mom said grace and you all ate dinner. You ate yours quickly while Jason picked and prodded at his. 

When you finished dinner, you kissed your Mom and Dad good night and went to bed. You lay under your blanket, looking at your glow-in-the-dark stars, and drifted off to sleep. 

   ~~~ 2005, A few weeks later~~~

              It all happened in a blur. You and Dad were driving back from your trip in the forest, and you even managed to bag a rabbit all on your own. One minute you were on your way to register what you had, then you were waking up in a hospital with your Momma by your side, crying and a local sheriff on your other side gearing up to ask you a few questions

“Momma…” Your voice was weak. “What happened?”

 She grabbed your hand and kissed it. “You were in an accident, baby.” 

Your eyes widened the best they could but you were still loopy. “What?” You looked around the room, your heartbeat picking up. “Where’s Dad?” Your voice was starting to hurt.

Your Momma cried, her tears falling on your hospital bed. “He-He didn't make it, baby.” 

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cried with your Momma.

“Mrs Myers, I’d like to speak with your daughter alone, to get her account of the story.” The sheriff gently led her out of the room, then sat next to you and asked you a series of questions.

“Now, Y/n, I understand you and your dad were driving, do you know where?” 

You choked back a sob before you answered. “The a- the game warden's office.”

He wrote that down. “Can you tell me what you and your daddy were doing before then?”

Licking your lips, you replied, “We were out camping like- like we always do. He was showing me how to hunt.”

He nodded and wrote that down too.“Do you remember anything while you were driving to the game office?”

You thought for a moment. “I was talking to Dad when suddenly he threw his hand in front of me then…everything went black.” You started to cry, all your emotions catching up with you. 

The sheriff looked down at you with sympathy and leaned over you to rest his hand on your head. “Just get some rest, Y/n, we’ll talk later, ‘kay?” 

You nodded, and he took his leave, and your mom rushed to your side once again.

***

              The day you were discharged from the hospital was bittersweet. You were leaving and going home, to sleep in your own bed. But you were leaving without your dad, and in a few days, you would be giving him a send-off for his funeral in Oklahoma. 

The drive home in Mom's car was different. It didn't have that old dusty truck smell, and it didn't rumble as it drove down the dirt road. No, Mom's car was clean, quiet, and smelled like pine. You hated it.

The drive was quiet, only the sound of the radio filling the car, but that quickly got turned off, much to the displeasure of Jason, who quickly turned it back on, which upset Mom.

“Quit it.” She turned it off again. 

“I want to listen to the radio,” Jason protested. 

“NO, Jason, stop it!” Silent tears were running down her cheeks, but Jason just scoffed and looked out the window

*

              When you got home, Jason went to his room and you sat on the couch and curled yourself into a ball. Your mom went straight to the kitchen and came back out with the champagne bottle that had been saved for their anniversary. 

Her dark green eyes were dull and wet with her tears. She took a good look at the bottle before she took a swig and sobbed. You didn't know how else to comfort her, so you just crawled over and cuddled under her arm.

“It’s ok, Momma.” You whispered to her.

That just made her cry harder– the fact that her baby had to comfort her. 

She took another drink while the two of you just sat on the couch and watched TV.

It wasn't long before she passed out. The bottle she'd been drinking fell to the ground and the rest of the contents spilled out, the sound of the bottle hitting the ground woke you up. You looked up at your mom and kissed her good night, before you cleaned up the mess she'd made, and went to bed.

Laying in your bed, you looked up at your fake stars.  You turned over to look at a photo of you and your dad, It was taken when you were five, first learning how to use a bow.

You smiled sadly and went to sleep.

***

              It was just like that for years. You would wake up, go and eat whatever Jason made, and find your momma on the couch, passed out with a bottle of some kind in her hand or on the floor. And as always, you would clean it up before you went to school. 

Sometimes she would wake up and tell you to have a good day. You always said you would but you never did.

When you went to school, some would be nicer. You didn't know whether it was because they felt bad or because they'd been told to. It didn't matter ‘cause the alienation continued and you were still by yourself. The boys still asked mean questions, but now they were about your dad, questions like “Did you see his mangled corpses in the road?” Others would reply with “Yes.” or “It was disgusting.” 

Some of the nastier ones started to say that you should’ve died. One group even cut a chunk of your hair off. It was a choppy pixie cut. Your poor teacher tried her best to make it look nice.

But it didn't matter, ‘cause when you got home, you would put on a smile for your mom and tell her you had an amazing day. Your hair? Well, you got gum in it, that's why it was short. 

Your momma cried a bit when she saw your hair. It was exactly like your Dad's, long and beautiful, but now it was cropped short. Just one more thing she had loved and lost.

***

              You supposed your Momma must have been feeling lonely. Instead of drinking on the couch, she started to go out to drink, sometimes with her coworkers or sometimes just alone. 

And when she was out late at night it was Jason who had to take care of you. He would make you dinner, and make sure you did your homework. He wasn't nice about it but he did it. He also started to take you hunting, and in Jason's fashion, he was harsh and rude with his remarks unlike your Dad had been.

“Y/n, shoot the squirrel over there, you see it?” You roughly pointed in the direction.

You nodded and aimed your arrow at it. You released it, but you missed and it scurried away.

“DAMNIT!” He shot up to his full, towering height. “Can't ya do anything! Jeez, a rock has better aim than ya!” He went to retrieve the arrow. You followed him to find more quarry.

“Ya know, what if som’ happens and we got to provide for mom, huh? What if I can't hunt and you have to hunt fer us, and ya can't hunt shit and we die?” He liked to be overly dramatic with his lectures.

But his “lecture” did nothing but stab your already bruised ego, but to prove him wrong you had to get better.

When you saw a rabbit, you both got down low on the ground. You drew back your arrow and aimed, making sure it was perfect before shooting. The arrow flew past different branches before it finally sunk into the rabbit's abdomen. The rabbit kicked, using up whatever strength it had left before it finally died. 

You ran towards the rabbit and picked it up to show Jason. “Look I got it, it's big too!” You showed him proudly.

He caught up to you and scoffed. “Jus’ a rabbit, nothing to get worked up over,” he said, giving you an unimpressed look. “Itz big though,” he admitted under his breath as he walked away. It was a small comment, but it brought a smile to your face. 

He looked down at the ground, looking for any tracks that could lead to bigger animals. You took the arrow out and put the rabbit in your animal satchel, and followed him.

It was the same cycle that lasted for three years, but then your momma did what you thought she never could. Something that rocked your world, and made you look at her a bit differently.

              Remarry.

        ~~~ 2008 ~~~

              It was late, really late at night, maybe three in the morning. You and Jason were up watching movies and eating what was left in the kitchen. Your mom had the car most of the time so Jason couldn't go out and buy more food.

You were currently watching an old zombie movie called Dawn of the Dead, one that your dad and Jason both seemed to like. The only thing they could agree on was movies.

It was almost over when you heard a rapid knock on the front door. The suddenness surprised you, making you jump a bit, spilling the remaining popcorn. 

“BABIES! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!” Some smaller knocks could be heard. “PLEASE, I FORGOT MY KEYS! AND WE’RE COLD!” 

You and Jason looked at each other before he got up to open the door for your Momma. Her hair was messy, along with her makeup. And behind her was a man with blonde shaggy hair and a beard. He wore a blue button-up and was shivering. 

Your Momma walked past your brother and so did the man. You and Jason gave him a strange look, almost like he had a second head.

Your Momma seemed to notice the looks and stopped to introduce him on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh um, guys this is my fiance, Steven.” She looked at him with puppy eyes.

“Ah, Steven these are my kids, Jason and Y/n, but we call her Bear.” She had a goofy grin on her face as if she didn’t realize she'd dropped a bombshell on you and your brother.

Your brother just huffed and went to his room to sleep. 

“I wonder what that was about” your Momma uttered his breath “Hi baby! What were you two just doing?” she rushed to your side and sat on the floor with you.

You looked up at her “Just watching a movie with Jason” you glazed at the awkward and clearly drunk Steven before watching the movie again. 

“Ooo looks scary, think im gonna make me and Steven some drinks” She kissed your cheek and got up “ooo Stevie why don't you sit and talk with Bear Bear?”

His head shot up in confusion “Wha-what oh um yea of course baby” he walked to the couch and sat down nervously. He looked around the room and then landed on some old photos of you and your dad hunting.

“So, you uh hunt?” you turned your head towards the man you may call ‘dad’, his eyes dart to yours than back to the TV.

“Uhh, yea, my Dad taught me, but haven't caught anything ‘sides som’ rodents” You glanced at him and he just looked somewhere else, he looked so out of place in your small home.

You decided to try and “bond” with him “What about you? You hunt?” His head shot towards you in surprise.

“Ah no, no I don’t hunt. I find it uh too much, to be honest” he laughed awkwardly, you looked away and at your mom who walked back into the living room

“Hey guys! Whatcha talking about!” she said in her drunk cherry, In one hand, she had some snacks and some beers “Sorry we don’t get much, we don't have a lot in the house” She laughed. 

You shifted awkwardly, cause she was the reason for no food “Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow Mom?” she stood there thinking,

“yea-yeah sure, me and you. Ya know just a girl's day!” You smiled and got to kiss your mom's cheek and went to bed Hopefull she’ll get better with this new guy around and fulfill a promise to you.

        ~~~ 2010 ~~~

              You woke up rather late one morning. You walked out of your room to see the TV was on and some trash around the living room, you went to clean it up but your eyes grew when your mom past out on the couch with Steven, in a rather awkward position. You turned around to go to your room when Jason came out too. He seemed to notice the mess to and went to clean it up

“You don't wanna be in the livin' room” You stopped him, and he gave you a weird look. 

“The hell do you mean?” you cleaned your throat. 

“Umm, ste-steven and momma were gettin’ comfortable if ya know what I mean” he just shook his head and went to the kitchen.

“Whatever, im going to get food, you coming?” He grabbed the keys and walked to the garage doors.

You nodded your head and went to get dressed and were quickly out the door to the car. The sun was up, it was a warm day in August, a week before school started. You looked out the window while the radio played, some news guy was mouthing off about some world problem, it was enough for your brother to turn the radio to something else. 

When Jason pulled into the parking lot you could see it was packed but was dead silent. You got out of the car when another car whizzed by almost hitting you. 

You and Jason walked into the store questioning what happened when you noticed the store was dead quiet. You could see carts abandoned some of them being tipped over with groceries all over the floor.

“What tha” Jason looked at the scene in front of you. Jason looked at his watch and half decided to leave but you needed food he just pushed it to the back of his mind.

You grabbed the basket and walked to the food aisle grabbing milk, bread, eggs, and other stuff you needed. But your brother stopped you, grabbing your shoulder roughly

“Wait” you turned to him.

“What? What's wrong?” he pointed down the clothing aisle, it was destroyed and the clothes were everywhere. “Th-the hell happened there? And why hasn't anyone fixed it yet” You started to walk over to investigate but Jason grabbed your arm to stop you 

“Don't, I don't like this” he pushed you forward to the front of the store. Jason grabbed your arms as he speed walked passed the alise of food thrown around the floor. But one alise made you stop in your tracks, making you drop the basket to cover your mouth. 

There in the middle of the floor was a dead body, what was worse was that it looked like it was gored on. Her face was eaten, her abdomen was torn open and her intestines and blood were all over the floor. 

You could see blood tracks near the body, leading away to the next aisle. Your brother pushed you down to the ground, telling you to keep quiet. He looked over to the next aisle and went back quickly.

He dropped down to the floor as well, he gestured you over to him while putting a finger up to his lips. You rushed to him.

“What's going on?” you asked panicked.

“I don’t know, but there's someone over in the next aisle with blood ‘n shit all over 'em” You looked at him with scared eyes.

“Wha-what do we do Jason” you looked to your brother for protection.

“We're gonna slowly and quietly leave the store, don't want to attract the cra-” He shot up, pushing you out of the way and kicking the woman's head out of the way. She flew back giving you and your brother time to run as fast as you could out of the store. While you were running you saw more and more blood and gore, you just didn't seem to notice. 

You got to the car and speed home. The radio was still on, with it blasting the current news:

“IT APPEARS THAT A VIRUS IS SPREADING THROUGHOUT THE WORLD, KILLING THE INFECTED, AND BRING THEM BACK TO LIFE AND ATTACKING OTHERS! 

THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE AGGRESSIVE AND IF YOU COME ACROSS THEM EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY AND CALL LOCAL OFFICERS!”

“What- what does this mean” Your eyes started to water “What are we gonna do Jaso-” you were cut off-

“JUST BE QUITE and let me think” his grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white as he stopped the car to think,

“Here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna go home, then pack our shit and leave! Head into the woods and wait this shit out” You nodded and jumped when a hand slammed on the window on your side, you shrieked causing Jason to jump when he saw the thing he floored the car.

Not once did he stop the car, not even when other cars were around. When you turned into the driveway of your home you hopped out and ran in to see your mom and Steven watching the TV. She leaped off the couch and hugged you tight.

“Oh baby, baby are you okay where were you guys!” she was crying, her already smudged makeup rubbing off.

 “We were at-at the sto-store and w-we saw this woman all-all over the palace” you cried in her arms and hugged her arms

Jason busted in the door “Ma pack yer shit we’re leavin’ NOW! Y/n get our bow stuff, I'll get the campin’ stuff, Steven gets as much food as you can, Ma get essentials and anythin’ else we need”. 

You ran to your room, grabbing your bear bow, quiver, and arrows. Doing the same and grabbing Jason's hunting bow and equipment. You grabbed your school bag and some clothes.

You were about done when you thought of something. You rushed to your mom's room and grabbed your dad's coat, you loved your dad's coat. It was a bit big but it'd be good in the winter or as a blanket.

By the time you were done, everybody was running out the door. Jason and Mom were packing the food and camping gear in the trunk of the car. Steven was “the lookout”, he was holding your dad's old shotgun when he saw a figure walking down the driveway,

“H-hey there’s someone comin'” Jason turned his head to see someone limping down the drive way. The man had half his arm ripped off.

“Shit, shoot it” Steven looked at Jason like he was crazy.

“Th-the hell you mean to shoot it? THATS A DAMN PERSON!” Jason slammed the trunk closed, and stormed over to Steven, and snatched the gun from him. 

“Those things aren't people! They won't hesitate to eat ya!” he turned to you and your mom “Get in the car and start it, we’ll leave soon” 

Your mom ushered you to the back seat furthest away from the thing as your brother called them. Your mom got in next and started the car. She looked panicked, gripping the stirring wheel out of nerves. 

You heard the crack of a gunshot not that far away 

“SHIT!” Jason yelled.You turned to look at the commotion, to see the figure with a giant hole in his chest, but he was still walking as if nothing happened.

“Sh-shoot it in the he-head Ja-Jason”  Steven could barely talk but he tried to help the best he could. Jason re-aimed the gun and shot the head, well the best he could.

The thing finally went down and Steven and Jason hopped in the car, Jason in the front and Steven in the back. Your mom started the car and drove into the city, taking the path to the local campgrounds. 

It seems that while your family was getting ready to leave, things got crazier. There were crashes everywhere, fire, smoke, and screams could be heard, and these, groans or moans could be heard if the things were close to the car.

When you got to the campsite it was quiet. Nothing could really be heard, not even the birds in the trees. Silent, just like the store.

***

             “THE CDC HAS ISSUED A NATIONWIDE QUARANTINE ALL CIVILIANS ARE ORDERED TO STAY INSIDE OR  GO TO THE ATLANTA REFUGE CAMP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE ARE IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA

FOOD, MEDICAL SUPPLY, SHELTER, AND MILITARY PROTECTION WILL BE SUPPLIED” 

The radio chatter went on and on, spouting the same things. It's been a week since the “outbreak”, as they’re calling it, happened. And in that small little window, your family and Steven have had to move twice, going deeper and deeper into the woods.

“D-do you think we should go to Atlanta? It's not that far from here” Your mom had been suggesting it, but your brother always dismissed it.

“Naw, too risky” he poked the fire “Eaters be everywhere and we’d be sitin’ ducks” You were torn on where to go, staying here you'd be by yourselves but at the same time you didn't have to worry if your neighbor was crazy enough to kill you for bread. But if you went to Atlanta you wouldn't have to worry about eaters –the new name for them– attacking you.

“We’re low on food, Y/n grab yer bow, were goin’ hunting” You nodded and hopped off the opened trunk. Running to your tent and grabbed your bow and quiver and hurried to your brother who was already leaving. 

When you went hunting Jason made a rule that you couldn't make too much noise, not since he spotted an eater while he was hunting. You kept your eyes down on the forest floor to keep an eye on any tracks, while Jason kept an eye out for eaters and any animals. 

When you found some faint deer tracks you tugged on his shirt and pointed to them. He kneeled down to inspect them and shook his head “Too old, probably dead by now” nodding your head you continued, but stopped in your tracks when you saw a doe looking at you. 

She was beautiful, her eyes hadn't noticed you yet, but you had. Jason got up behind you “Guess ya were right, why don't ya bag it” he nudged you forward and you drew the bow back. The bow itself was new, you bought it yourself after cleaning your neighbor's yard for her, she was old frail, and couldn't do it herself.

You released the bow and it landed in her abdomen. She ran off deeper into the woods with whatever strength she had left. You and Jason chased after her, her blood leading her to you.

She was stronger than she looked because it took about twenty minutes before you caught up with her. Jason loaded his bow and shot it and hit her just below her shoulder blade killing her. 

“Common, let's go get her and bring her back” You shouldered your bow and walked up to her with Jason. Since he was bigger he took up the grunt work and shouldered her while you carried his bow. 

“Now, ya need to find our tracks” he huffed while trying to position her right “Should be easy enough since we were running” You nodded and glued your eyes down looking up when ever you heard something in the distance.

It took about an hour before you got back to your camp. You ran to your mom and hugged her “We bagged a doe, Jason gonna clean ‘er up the we’ll eat it” Jason dropped her by Steven “ya know how to clean a Doe Steven?” Steven looked from Jason to the Doe, back to Jason. 

He swallowed deeply before answering “I-uhh I've never done it no” Joson rolled his eyes then sat down next to him and started to show him how. 

It was one of the little things your dad never taught you. You've seen him do it, but he never shown you how. Jason had to teach you, and he did that in your kitchen, if your mom was there and sober she would've freaked out. 

You sat next to your mom who was still paying attention to the radio. All it did was worry her as she bit her nails with her legs pulled into her chest. 

“You okay momma?” you put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped a bit but eased up a bit when she saw you.

“O-oh ye-yea baby, im good” she smiled “How’d your hunt go with Jason?” you pulled your knees up to your chest 

“it went fine, I found really old tracks and Jason brushed them off and when we looked up BAMB there she was!” you told the story of how you found the Doe.

Your mom softly clapped for you “Wow, you're a real Orion aren't you bear?” you smiled, your Momma loved Greek Mythology, and she always said if she could be a professor, teaching students about the great tales of the Greek gods and heroes. 

“Ya know where your nickname comes from?” you shook your head, but you knew why, this was the closest you got to your old momma from before the accident, plus you loveed the story.

 “Artimiss was the goddess of the hunt, and she swore off marriage—one of three goddesses to be exact– she would hunt on the earthly grounds with other women and nymphs. One of these women was a woman named Callisto, she was a hunter who was sadly assaulted and fell pregnant at the hands of Zues.” 

you had a sad expression as if this was the first time you heard this “and Hera and Artemis found them. Artemis cast Callisto out and Hera turned her into a bear.” you gasped playfully, and she smirked.

“well she gave birth and Artemis guided the baby to civilization, and he grew to be a mighty hunter. And he came across his bear Momma and went to kill her, but Zeus saw this and before he could kill her, he put Callisto and her sun the stars” You rested your head on her shoulder and she hugged you. You sat there for a while as you looked at the stars.

 “Well it looks like you brother is about done with the deer, shall we go sit by the fire?” you nodded and grabbed your bag which had your remaining books and sat by the fire

Jason started to put some meat on the fire. The blaze reflected in his dark green eyes, he looked like he was thinking about something. He checked his watch and figured it was time to take the venison off the grill. He gave it to you.

“She found it, she gets to eat it first” was his reasoning when Steven asked why you got it. Steven was very whiney, you suspect he’d be dead if he was alone.

***

              It was deep into the night, and you just finished your comic book. Your Momma was looking for batteries for the radio, it had died about an hour ago and your Momma had been going crazy looking for them. When she finally found them she cheered with triumph and put the new ones in the radio. The radio roared to life with the same news as before. 

Jason was poking the fire a bit while Steven was getting something from his tent. You got up and went sit by Jason. He gave you an odd look which you ignored and picked up your bow and began fiddling with it 

“What are ya doin’ Y/n” he stopped what he was doing and looked at you.

“Jus’ sittin’ is all” you fiddle some more “and wondering” he went back to the fire 

“about what?” you looked around your makeshift camp.

“if all of this will be over soon, and when we can go back” you looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

Jason stayed quiet, he didn't know. But if he was honest, he didn't mind it all that much–could go without the living dead though– it was like an extended camping trip. 

              SNAP

Your blood ran cold when you heard the groans and snarls coming closer. You shot up when you saw them closing in on the car. Your mom was running towards you as you held your stuff. 

She grabbed your arm and ran to the woods as Jason and Steven stayed behind to fight them off. Your Momma dragged you into the woods further and further. You kept looking back to see other eaters staggering toward you

“Mo-momma, they’re behind us!” your mom just ran faster “I-I know baby but we just need ru-” Out of nowhere an eater came and attacked her. 

She let go of your hand when another one latched its dirty maw on her shoulder. Her screams were horrid, you imagine it was the same scream she let out when the love of her life and baby were in the hospital. Just filled with horror and dread.

“Y/n, Y/n YOU NEED TO RUN!” you shook your head with tears in your eyes “NO LISTEN AND RUN NOW!” hearing the groans of another eater behind you made you run off into the woods. Crying as you heard the cries of your momma. 

                                ~~~ 2010, A few weeks later~~~

              You had been on your own for a few weeks since your camp had been overrun. You thought about going back to it, to see if Jason or Steven got out okay. Well if Jason got out, you were sure Steven did. And you knew if he got out safe then Steven was safe–probably. 

But you were on your own, so you had rules now: Always move, Stay in the trees at night, And NEVER stay if it's too quiet.

That's how you made it all these weeks alone. You rationed the food you managed to hunt on your own. It was small, with rabbits, birds, and a raccoon once. It was odd but it kept you fed. 

At night you'd find a tree with a sturdy branch, climb it, ruffle in your bag for something to tie around you and the branch, and sleep. And repeat the cycle again the next morning.

*

              You were currently in a tree, just waking up from sleep. The denim jeans you used to keep you tied to the tree were a little loose. You gathered your things, putting your bow around your torso, same with your bag. 

You nimbly climbed down the tree and leaped out on the last branch and landed on the forest floor, you fumbled a bit but were fine nonetheless. 

You made a small fire and cooked the last of the rabbit meat you had. After that, you put the fire out and continued on your way to nowhere. 

You suppose you were in a good part of the woods, cause you could hear the birds singing some little tune they came up with. You humed along to it while walking on a fallen tree, balancing on it like a tightrope walker. 

You stopped walking when you noticed deer tracks and debated on following them or not, but decided to just do it anyway, no set direction and all.

You followed them to a clearing, there wasn't anything there though so you just sat on a log. You figured it was safe enough to relax a bit. With an arrow, you start drawing random things in the dirt. You liked drawing, it was a pastime you did before.

You started drawing hearts, butterflies, and flowers, pretty things really. Then you drew your Momma, she was beautiful in your eyes, with long hair that reached her midback, and her beautiful green eyes. 

You stopped what you were doing when you heard something in the distance, it sounded like something talking. You quickly loaded your bow and stood up aiming your bow at the noise.

There you saw two men. One was old, with short-cropped grey hair. He was bigger than the other one. The other guy was younger and more scrawny, he had squirrels tied around a rope,  he had a crossbow, also aimed at you, and the old guy had a hunting rifle

   “Well well well, what do we have here baby brother,” Old Guy said with the meanest grin on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next // I Met Two Old Guys In The Woods

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[jaehyunsprincesspeach]

awh!!! the love at first sight is too cute that i had to request a little something...

anyways, you know this like trope (does it even count as one?), where like person A keeps on dreaming / thinking this particular "imaginary" person not knowing that that person actually exist?!? and then they just like run into them at somewhere where there isn't much time to like plan i guess? example, person A is about to miss the last train or something when they just walk past this person and be like, wait a minute, isn't that person who i kept dreaming / thinking about??? :0 and then person B is just confused cause why is person A acting like they've met before ykwim? so like that but it's the scenario where skz members keeps dreaming/ thinking about this person they don't even know existed and then actually running into them one day in a really "rushed" scenario lol

so so sorry for the lengthy word vomit, i got carried away :( and remember to take your time and take veryyyy good care of yourself otherwise i'll hunt you down >:( /hj

i’m obsessed with this !! thank you so much for the request , i’m sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy !!

apologies in advance, this is a bit lengthy, but i hope it fits each member !! feedback is always appreciated 🤍

all the love ~ lunar

Am I Dreaming?

skz ot8 x reader

warnings : super fluff

scenario: he can’t stop thinking about you, and the worst part is, he doesn’t even know if you truly exist. with the number if people he sees everyday, its hard to remember names or faces, but out of nowhere, you appeared in his dreams. weeks have gone by, and you are there every night, a face without a name, without a voice, still, a face that he longs to meet. a face that he longs to memorize and learn more about. a face of someone he thinks would change his life, if you truly exist. for weeks, you are in his dreams, to the point that now wherever he goes, he looks for you. in crowded rooms, in quiet coffee shops, even in the crowds at his concerts, he’s always looking for you. after a few months his hope slowly drifts away, leading him to believe you are simply part of his imagination. one random day, he’s rushing around with the rest of his team, Stray Kids, trying to get through the crowd of fans outside of their show, and back to their hotel. fans swarmed the front doors of the hotel, and they are pushed inside, where you are waiting to simply leave for a meal, which proves to be impossible with the number of screaming fans outside. how you managed to book a room at the same hotel as Stray Kids is a shock to you, but seeing what they are going through right now, you quietly sit in the lobby, not wanting to make them more stressed than they already must be. finally, the group manages to burst through the doors, practically stumbling through the lobby, as the hotel security does their best to keep the fans outside. that’s when he sees you.

Bang Chan

Chan would be counting his children, when he sees you sitting in the lobby. you are reading something on your phone, trying to ignore the curiosity of the commotion that is unfolding right in front of you. he would finish what he needed to do before approaching you, shyness evident in every movement, but confident enough to approach a complete stranger.

“excuse me, im sorry to interrupt you, but have we met before? this may be weird, you just look very familiar…” he would say, trying not to startle you, or make you uncomfortable.

“I dont think we have… im y/n.” you say with a gentle smile.

its the smile that makes him realize you are the person from his dreams. he would introduce himself, and try to have a conversation with you, before being pulled away. before he leaves, he would make sure to get your phone number, saying that he would love to get to know you more over a cup of coffee. i feel like he would want to text you right away, but he waits till a few hours passed before asking for your room number, emphasizing that its not what you think it is, but five minutes later there is a knock at the door, and when you open it, you are greeted with chocolate covered strawberries, and a note that says “surprise, I hope you enjoy, can’t wait to talk with you more”. I think it’s safe to say, you were swept off your feet immediately, even after the rather rushed introductions.

Lee Know

oh goodness, this man is upset. he loves his fans with his entire heart, but after a long day, he wants to simply enjoy a quiet area, reading a book that he has been putting off for a while now. when he stumbles through the door, he keeps his composure very well, though it is evident that he is not in the greatest mood with all of the commotion that he just had to make his way through. he sees you as Chan is doing a head count, making sure that everyone is accounted for, and he simply cannot take his eyes away from you. I don't think he would approach you right away, but when you catch him staring, and give him a smile, he might finally walk over and start talking.

"Im sorry, I don't mean to stare, you just look really familiar."

"That's okay, im y/n"

the two of you would have a very light conversation, mostly him explaining what was happening outside, and what all the commotion is, and then Chan would drag him away. Lee Know would ask the person at the front desk to send chocolates or some sort of dessert to your room, with a note that tells you to meet in a specific area of the lobby to talk some more. hes really not sure what this feeling is, but he simply cannot bring himself to stay away from you. from the first interaction, he wants to talk with you for as long as he possibly can, even if he has to risk getting into trouble.

Changbin

Changbin would simply stop functioning the second he sees you, but contrary to Lee Know, I think he would approach you rather quickly. he knows you are the person he has been dreaming about, but he doesn't want to come off as weird, so he would gently ask if he has met you before.

"excuse me, have we met before?"

"I don't think so, but im y/n! its nice to meet you!"

he wouldn't have too much trouble, and lucky for him, he happened to be wearing a shirt that accentuated his muscles (hehehe hes totally trying to flex without being obvious about it). rather than being dragged away, he would ask why you're in the lobby in the first place, and would offer to escort you wherever you are going. when he finds out you are trying to go get food, he immediately takes you to the concierge to order, and goes on his way, leaving with your number of course.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin gets so nervous omg !! you would catch his eye, and he would just stare at you for a minute trying to connect the dots. when he does, he refuses to make eye contact, though you've already caught him staring. you would probably have to initiate any sort of conversation with him, but once the two of you start talking, he would get even more nervous.

"are you okay? your cheeks are flushed.."

"y-yeah im fine, just feels like we've met before..."

"i don't think we have, but maybe in a past life"

the two of you would start talking about theories about past lives before Chan walks over and pulls Hyunjin out of the conversation. he would ask for your number very shyly, but would spend the rest of the night texting with you about anything and everything (cute !!)

Han

Han completely stops functioning, but unlike Changbin, he wouldnt approach you at all. he would be a nervous wreck the entire time, even after you start a conversation with him, cause honestly you would have to approach him first.

"are you okay? youre staring quite a bit..."

"y-yeah"

"are you sure?"

"y-yeah"

poor baby, he really doesnt know what to do.... Chan has to literally drag him away… once he comes to terms with everything he would probably freak out about not getting your number and totally embarrassing himself… creds to Channie for getting your contact info for him, cause if not he probably would have never had the chance to speak to you again…

Felix

Felix would have no issues walking up to you. he’s sociable, but there’s no doubt that he’s nervous !! he does a fairly good job at hiding it, but the blush that dusts his cheeks, and the shy tone he speaks with totally gives it away…

“hi, i’m so sorry to bother you, but could you tell me your name? i feel like we’ve met before…”

“i don’t believe we have, but im y/n!”

please give him a gentle smile, it’ll warm his heart and calm his nerves a little bit. honestly he might not approach you immediately, as he wouldn’t want to bother you in any way, but once he decides, he sticks to it, and carries out a very gentle conversation, ending up with your number before anyone has the chance to pull him away. 100% sends you some sort of dessert with a super sweet message on it, while texting you for the rest of the night.

Seungmin

when Seungmin sees you, he would be so shocked … like big puppy eyes activated, as he tries to remember where he has seen you before. once he finally makes the connection, he would approach you. on the outside he looks confident, but honestly he’s freaking out on the inside.

“hi, this might sound weird but i think ive seen you before… can you tell me your name?”

“oh, i’m y/n! i don’t think we’ve met before though…”

he would want to get as much information about you in the short time that he has, and wouldn’t have any troubles asking for your number, but as soon as he walks away, his breath becomes heavy like he was holding it the entire time… fake it till you make it right ?

I.N.

sweet baby angel would NOT approach you. he would pull one of his hyungs aside and point you out like “hyung, she’s the girl that’s i’ve been dreaming about!” would do his best not to stare but he just finds you so mesmerizing. whoever he pulled aside would probably be the one to walk up to you first.

“hi, my friend over there thinks he knows you from somewhere … could we get your name by chance?”

“my name? y/n… but why doesn’t he come talk to me if he thinks he knows me?”

with that, his hyung would convince him to go talk to you, and as nervous and shy as he might be, the two of you would hit it off pretty well !! as he gets more comfortable, before being pulled away, he would get your contact info. i think like Chan he would wait a little bit before messaging you, so that he doesn’t come off as weird or anything like that, but the two of you would talk about literally anything and everything for the rest of the night !!

[killerandhealerqueen]

Heyyyy

*taps mic* we saw the post you made about coming up with another fic, a spn au to be exact. Would you like to elaborate on that, your majesty?

*gives the mic to you and runs off to the corner*

(im veryyy normal about you wanting to write this)

Haha, thank you my darling. *takes mic and clears throat*

Alright, so, I kind of already word vomited this to @ahhhnorealnamesallowed (Bills, my beloved, thank you for listening) but here we go, a little bit more...fleshed out and coherent. Also, this will probably be a 2025 fic, just cuz I'm trying to finish other fics that I have on my roster. This is also gonna be very long, so it's going under the cut

So, Jiang Yuelou is a hunter. Who doesn't believe in the supernatural. I mean, he does, like the demons and the monsters and what not but what he doesn't believe in...are angels. Doesn't believe them. And why doesn't he believe in them, you ask? Because well, he prayed to the angels and to God whenever things were bad with his parents (yes, I am keeping up with Jiang Yuelou's hella tragic backstory from the drama) and they...did nothing. Didn't answer his prayers, didn't do shit. So he doesn't believe in them. Cuz if they were real, like every other supernatural being on the fucking planet, they would have done something. Would have saved him. But they didn't.

Anyways. So, Jiang Yuelou has a case. Some weird shit is going down in a small town, so he goes to investigate, right? And whatever this big supernatural bad is (please give me an idea, I beg), he tries to take on, but it's strong. A lot fucking stronger than anything he's ever faced. And of course the fucker decides to attack passersby (a kid), when so Jiang Yuelou dives to protect the child and the monster attacks, it's suddenly like...blasted away. Jiang Yuelou turns to see this...strange looking dude in a three-piece cream suit just standing there and then he turns and smiles at them, and the smile is kind. Jiang Yuelou demands to know who he is, and the stranger just smiles and says that he's an angel. At his answer, Jiang Yuelou is fucking livid cuz now an angel steps in to save someone? However, he doesn't say anything and just makes sure that the kid is safe before he starts walking away, the "angel" soon following after him.

They walk in silence (or just walk, idk, we'll see when I start actually writing the damn thing) before Jiang Yuelou demands to know the angel's name, if it even has one, and who's vessel it's using because well...angels have to use people as vessels (if we're going off of supernatural's logic. If we're going off of say...Good Omens, then the body is completely Chen Yuzhi's. I think we're gonna use GO's version). The angel says that he's not using a vessel, it's his own body, and his name is Chen Yuzhi. Jiang Yuelou grumbles, says a very brief "thanks for your help" and then leaves, leaving Chen Yuzhi behind.

Next time there's a case/monster, Jiang Yuelou heads out, only to find Chen Yuzhi already there, a kind/gentle smile on his face and Jiang Yuelou is not happy, cuz he works alone, damn it. And he doesn't need any help. Especially not from some angel. So, he opts to ignore Chen Yuzhi, but Chen Yuzhi is right at his side and surprisingly plays along with all of his disguises and what not. So he lets him stay and assist with his hunt. And the hunt goes surprisingly well, if he does say so himself, and he thanks Chen Yuzhi for the help, which Chen Yuzhi replies that he was happy to be of assistance.

Later, when they go to dinner (Jiang Yuelou does ask if Chen Yuzhi can eat, which he does), they like overhear some people talking about angels and how to find them and the signs of what to look for and Jiang Yuelou, being curious, is like "why are you asking/talking about that?" and the person replies that people have been looking for angels for ages for their feathers and their grace and what not for "religious" (aka cult) purposes and like how to "kill" the angel to get those different things and Chen Yuzhi is sitting there listening and he's getting angry and the power starts to surge and the ground begins to shake and starts drawing attention to himself, so Jiang Yuelou quickly pays before grabbing him and dragging him out so that no one can ask any questions about himself.

As they're driving, Jiang Yuelou demands to know what the hell that was back there and Chen Yuzhi is quiet before he explains that angels have been going missing and now he knows why and he's both furious and hurt. Jiang Yuelou is quiet before he says he's sorry, he knows what it's like to lose people. Chen Yuzhi looks at him curiously and waits but Jiang Yuelou doesn't say anything and just stares ahead before he clears his throat and says that they should probably get out of town so that people don't start asking questions. They then go to find a hotel to get some rest. While they're laying in bed (separate beds mind you), Jiang Yuelou asks if Chen Yuzhi is sleeping and when he replies that he's not, Jiang Yuelou sighs and asks if he can trust him, which he replies that he can. Silence then follows before Jiang Yuelou explains his disbelief of angels/higher beings and his backstory with his parents (yes just like the drama). By the time he finishes his story, he's in tears and the room is silent before Chen Yuzhi slips out of bed and walks over to him and thanks him for telling him and for trusting him.

After that, Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi travel searching for more cases and when they find one, they go to investigate only to get kidnapped by weirdos who are obsessed with everything angel. There's someone among them who can sense angels/heavenly beings and they realize that Chen Yuzhi is one of them and they are elated. Jiang Yuelou, of course, starts throwing a fit and tells them to fuck off and leave Chen Yuzhi alone, but the people sock him in the face and basically just starting whaling on him. Chen Yuzhi, of course, fights them as well, but then they start torturing him, you know, stabbing him to get his grace, etc.

As he listens to Chen Yuzhi's screams, Jiang Yuelou can't take it, and he fights and fights, finally breaking free before he practically goes apeshit on the people who have kidnapped them. He either kills or knocks them out before he rushes over to Chen Yuzhi and frees him, just as one of the kidnappers who he knocked unconscious wakes up and grabs him before he starts whaling on him, again, before finally stabbing him. As he cries out, a shot rings out before the kidnapper drops dead, making Jiang Yuelou look up to see Chen Yuzhi holding a sawed off shot gun, dishevled, panting and bloody, and he's probably the most gorgeous thing Jiang Yuelou has ever seen before he passes out from the stab wound.

As he faints, Chen Yuzhi drops the gun, runs over to him, and does his best to try and heal him with his grace but he's so weak that it's not working so he prays and pleads to his father and the others to help him, to save him, and God (who like in my other demon x angel fic, is Bai Jinbo) comes down to assist. Jiang Yuelou is healed, so is Chen Yuzhi, happy endings for all, may or may not be a kiss in there somewhere, and then Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi become a hunting duo, and are something close to the Boogeymen for the supernatural beings.

Wow this was a lot longer than what I had told Billie earlier but like I said, this is more fleshed out and oh fuck this fic is gonna be good

[butmakeitgayblog]

I would like to run over Lexa, resurrect her, kiss her better and run over her again.

She loved (loves) you for fuck sake, she told you that and you broke up with her?!

Listen.

I know she had reasons, and I know Clarke is not entirely innocent here (even though until now she's just a babe but I trust you), but I would be so furious if I was Clarke when Lexa will eventually confess her feelings.

Can you imagine feeling not enough for someone you love? To know to be not enough because even though you are indeed soulmates, the person you are sure to be THE one, broke up with you? And you know why, or maybe you think you do, but she's still rejected you.

I'm so mad.

I know Lexa comes from a place of survival instinct and pain, but I'm so furious.

SHE TOLD HER SHE LOVES HER.

SHE SHOWS YOU THAT.

I'm... I'm so sad for the both of them, but because I was once in Clarke shoes, it's so sad I want to hug her.

In most of the ff Lexa is the one portrait as tough and still fragile, strong and delicate, but to observe Clarke being put aside (I know they still keep seeing each other, and being cute to each other and loving but it's... Not... You know? Enough?).

And to marry someone that you know, you KNOW is not the one for you but you do it anyway because you gave up on your soulmate, you chose the second best option... I really wanna run over Lexa.

I want to hug her really tight and punch her with love until she understands.

And then I want to hug Clarke and push their faces together while I whisper "And now... Kith... AND STAY TOGETHER OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN."

Sorry.

My doctor would be a little bit disappointed about my heart rate right now.

I read this 3 times cackling 😭 (not the part about you, that im very sorry for and I'm sorry you can relate 😔 if you ever wanna send asks aboit Clarke's perspective you can! It help balance this out a bit because so far everything has been filtered through Lexa's pov)

Listen these are all valid things to feel. Lexa is very stupid in some ways, but those ways are indeed born out of insecurity and problems with accepting her self-worth.

I do want to point tho, just as a possible way to kind of... console the anger we all feel here, Clarke was not at all alone in how much she threw herself into this relationship. Lexa absolutely, 100%, just melted herself into Clarke. This 19 year old kid went from having no stability beyond her own work ethic, and no one who she felt cared about her, to having this sarcastic, mouthy, and genuinely weird little blonde lady who was very pretty and very much in love with her. And she did devote herself and her time and every ounce of her disgustingly robust affections to Clarke whenever they were together. Lexa forgot the world just to be near her, because that was obviously the only place she was meant to be.

But that was the problem.

Just how much she actually devoted herself and her time to Clarke became the problem. I mean it did more than that, there are other thoughts and emotions and insecurities at play that Lexa will word-vomit out eventually, bUT the crux of it all came down to her not having the emotional maturity to know how to balance a love that big, along with everything else.

But she never stopped loving Clarke. Not once. And while, no, she wasn't entirely truthful with Clarke or herself about what kind of love for years, and while it certainly wasn't "enough" (i know, for lack of a better word here), it was still incredibly palpable to anyone around her. It was tangible and demonstrative enough that it kept Clarke right there with her for almost a decade. It was intense enough and blatant enough that Costia gave up even trying to compete in under a year. There is just no questioning it when they're together. Everyone sees it pretty much immediately: Lexa is head over heels in love with that girl.

And that was the thing... Clarke saw it too. She felt it every single day.

She's just kinda stupid too 🥴

So I hear you, I do. Breathe lol. Check the pulse bby it's ok I promise. Just distract yourself with thoughts of them married with lil Griffin babies that Lexa cooks up herself simply because she loves Clarke that much

[quirkle2]

Id looooove to see your take on the mogami arc…. you write so well :’] Your fics are some of the few I’ll continuously go back to reread and gush over from how well it’s written.

WAUGHHH TY ,, ur actually in luck bc im writing a fic about the direct aftermath of mogami arc Right Now <3 has my own interpretation of it in there to give it a lil spice. here's some fun wip snippets if u want em (animal death mention!):

His father unravels his arms around him when he moves away, and Shigeo all but dives for his brother. Arms dart underneath to catch him, to gather him up when he spills through the gaps of his fingers like water, and Shigeo pours into Ritsu’s arms and ripples there, unsteady and whirlpooling.

-

She needs to let go of his wrist. It hurts—he knows she’s not pressing hard, or pulling at all, or doing anything to make it hurt, but it hurts, and it goes beyond the flesh and hits bone marrow with its density. He thinks of getting tugged by the wrist against his will, shoved down the sidewalk, forced down an alleyway that smelled like copper and cat urine. He thinks of getting manhandled over the edge of the school roof, his life and his body dangling over the precipice by nothing but his arm and one of the stronger kids who’s laugh sounded like wasps buzzing. She needs to let go of his wrist. He stares at where their skin touches and swallows down the bile rising in his throat. “Please—” “I don’t know how I feel about you keeping that job, honey. Reigen’s been testing your curfew and now this—” "Please let go of me,” he whispers.

-

He’d felt bad trying to eavesdrop, but his brother had been crying—had been sobbing—for the first time in five years, and his aura felt hunted. It had pulled his heartstrings to see somebody that was so okay just that morning suddenly come home hours later, desperate for comfort, with an aura that felt like it’d been mangled by teeth. He wanted to study the teeth marks, and identify the animal. He wanted to know what could’ve possibly occurred to make his brother look at him and crumble like that. He wanted to know what could’ve possibly occurred to make his brother say I missed you like that, when they’d seen each other just that morning.

-

"Those kids don’t actually care about you at all, understand?! They’re just having fun mocking someone as wimpy as you!” He’s familiar with rage. He’s felt it plenty, and volcanically. But this is something different. This is something cold, and still. Still is not a word he associates with rage, and yet it works perfectly here—the cells in his mind feel numb with how much of it there is, overdosed beyond functioning and flat on the seabed of his pressurized skull. It feels like he’s sinking his canines into ice, the way an ugly slate grey shoots up the nerves in his face. His knuckles ache with his chest, and it takes everything in him to not snarl his response. “Nobody’s mocking me. And I’m not as gullible as you think.”

[samwinchesterswifu]

Contagious pt. 2 (Sam Winchester x Read Smut Series)

Requested: No

Season 2 x Episode 1

Warnings: slow burn, slight kink if you squint your eyes.

Song Inspiration: This series is going to have a lot of song inspo, but the main one is "Contagious" by Trapt

MINORS DNI

A/N: I thought this would be a good way to continue the series. I may end up doing little episodes here and there, but honestly not sure how far im gunna take this. Would love some feed back on this!

Word Count: 2500

Summary: All four of them just had gotten into a car wreck, Deans in a medical coma, Sam is all over the place, but finally, he gives her a taste of what she wants.

  It has been an extremely long year. Joining the boys on a man hunt for their father John. Encountering everything they could think of. From almost dying to a wendigo, to playing guess who with a shapeshifter, bugs, a spooky dead doctor, and being reminded why people are truly just terrible. Watching Dean help an old lover, only to watch him make the same mistake Sam made just a few years ago. It was exhausting. On top the constant killing of the bad guys, Sam gave her major whiplash. There’d be moments where he would show his younger self again. Show her signs that maybe he was ready to experience all the love the two of them shared again. Only to be gone in an instant whenever the demon was brought up. Sam wanted revenge. She couldn’t blame him. Hell, if something tried to kill Sam, her dagger would be through the monster’s heart within minutes. She just felt like a second choice. A back up plan. That was until they had gotten into a wreck.

Her and Sam were sitting in the front seat. While the two of them were left uninjured, just a few cuts and bruises. Dean was in a coma. John was recovering in a separate hospital room. Sam was obviously distant. Worried and pacing back and forth between John’s room and Dean’s. She sat and kept John company. To help distract her from the possibility of potentially losing someone she called her family. 

Sam had come to check up on John once again before disappearing down the hall. She was looking down at her hands. Going over the small scar that Sam had accidentally created during their first kiss. His pocketknife had slipped from his pocket where her hands were placed. Making a clean cut through her skin. John cleared his throat, making her look up at him. He smiled.

“I remember that cut,” Johns deep voice rumbled through his empty room.

“Sam was so worried you would get an infection and was so scared of getting in trouble with Hank.” He chuckled lowly.

“That boy is terrified of your father.”

She grinned at his statement. But was quickly replaced.

“He’s still in love with you kid,” sincerity was behind his voice, but it was hard to believe.

“I doubt that John.” She sighed.

“Every time he comes in here, checking on me, he’s also clocking you.” John had a grin on his face that made it seem like he was proud of Sam.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“He’s checking up on you to make sure you don’t also randomly collapse. He’s worried enough about Dean, but if you went under? He’d freak.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. Hopefully John was right. Suddenly, Sam was at John’s room, tears brimming his eyes and he looked panicked.

“It’s Dean!” He practically yelled.

She quickly got up from her chair and rushed with Sam to Dean’s room where the machine was beeping and the doctors were trying to save him. His heart had stopped, and she could see Sam was close to ripping apart in stress. Finally, the doctors were able to save him. She dared not lay a hand on Sam. After what happened prior, she was afraid.

They both returned to John’s room. He asks questions about what happened. Reassuring Sam that things where gunna be okay. Sam twiddles with his fingers nervously. A deep sigh left his lips. There was clearly something on his mind.

“Dad?” Sam pipes up. 

John grunted in response.

“It felt like Dean was there.” Sam’s eyes kept darting between her and John. Like he was a scared kid about to be ridiculed by John.

Huh?

“What are you talking about kid?” John’s attention was attracted.

“Like, Dean was there. Out of ear shot. Is that possible?” Sam was still twiddling with his thumbs.

“Anything’s possible son.” John looked at her as if to say, “Has this kid gone insane?”

Sam shook his head. Another few minutes of silence Sam stood up. His head peaked down to look at her. There was hope in his eyes.

“Can I talk to you?” Sam was nervous again. His voice quivered like he was cold.

All she could do was muster up a nod.

Getting up, she gave John a quick glance, him grinning back at her.

Sam pulls her away from John’s room. His fingers felt like hot stones on her skin. Her heart rate increased rapidly to the point she could practically hear it in her ears. Sam had pulled her away into a small little hallway. Making it seem as if he didn’t want anyone to bother them.

“You think I’m crazy,” he sighs.

“What?” She was completely confused.

“You didn’t say anything. You typically have some witty response to shoot back at me.” Sam returned to a scared puppy. That’s all he ever was. A scared puppy.

“I’m just trying to process everything right now Sam. It’s been a hell of a year.” Her voice was laced with bitterness. It was enough to make Sam cowardly.

“I know.” His eyes looked glossy as if he was getting ready to cry.

“Sammy,” she sighed.

It was like it was a repeated event of when they first “got back” together.

“It’s highly possible that Dean’s spirit is running around. I just don’t know how we would communicate with him.” Sam’s gaze softened; it was a similar look when he was thinking.

“That’s it!” Sam exclaimed. Making her jump at this sudden boom of his voice.

“What?” Again, she was lost.

“A Ouija board!” Sam was practically bouncing on his heels.

She groaned at his words.

“Sam come on. You know we don’t mess with those things! Dean would be furious!” She shook her head. She truly couldn’t believe his words.

Sam started to walk away from her. Not uttering a word.

“Where are you going!” She shouts after him.

“Keep dad company!” Sam responded.

She scoffed. Winchesters.

Instead of returning to John’s room, she heads to Dean’s. Her heart hurt seeing him hooked to all the wires. She sits in the chair next to his bed, just studying him. A long sigh left her lips and her head fell into her hands. Taking a deep breath, she began speaking. Hoping that Dean wouldn’t actually be able to hear what she had to say, even though he was right behind her in his ghostly form. 

“Dean,” her voice cracked and was close to tears. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this with Sam.” She shook her head, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. 

“I love him, I love your brother so damn much, I always have,” She took another pause as footsteps approached. 

Sam rounded the corner into Dean’s room, a bit taken aback that she was present. Holding a paper bag, he overall just looked confused. 

“Are you okay?” He asked as he began to sit on the floor in front of Dean’s bed. 

“Fine,” she was sharp with her words, and the younger Winchester flinched at her tone. 

She rose from her chair, joining beside him. He pulled out the board and another groan left her lips.

“Dean is going to kill you.” He let out a small laugh and nodded in agreement. 

Quickly setting up the board, he looked at her for a second. A wave of concern and sincerity washed over his eyes. His hand began to raise, but was put down almost as fast. He seemed hesitant, which has become more often these days.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Sam's voice was sweet, laced with honey enough to get her drunk off of it, but she had to remain composure. 

All she could do was muster up a nod. He sighed in response as he turned his attention towards the board. 

Sam placed his fingers on the planchette, looking at her and waiting for her to do the same. She mirrorod his movements, nodding that she was ready. Sam took another deep breath.

“Dean, are you with us?” Sam asked, a few moments of silence, then the planchette started to move towards ‘yes’. 

He let out an excited squeak. Which was too cute beyond words. 

“What is keeping you away, is there a case?” Sam asked, and the planchette moved back to ‘yes’. 

“Do you know what it is?” Sam asked. 

The planchette began to move over the letters REAP. 

A small ‘huh’ left Sam’s lips. 

The planchette began to move again, without a question asked. Her heart rate began to increase, afraid of what Dean had in mind. The planchette moved over the letters LOVE. Both her and Sam’s heads snapped towards another. A look of confusion falling over both of them. 

“What are you saying Dean?” She asked. 

LOVEBIRDS.

A wave of heat rose to her cheeks. He was listening to her rant after all. Sam shuffled in his place awkwardly. It was one of the things she loved about him. He’s been awkward ever since he was a kid. Another grunt left Sam and he turned back to the planchette. 

“Is the reaper after you?” Sam asked, trying to get rid of the tension. 

The planchette moved back to ‘yes’. 

Sam rose from his position, and began to pace back and forth. 

“Sam, Dean will be fine,” she says as she rises to meet him. 

“I know, I’m just worried.” He stopped pacing and his eyes raised in the way he got about when having a bright idea in his head. 

“Wait! I’ll go ask Dad, stay here,” Sam says leaving the room. 

Completely lost into what was going on, she sat back down in the chair next to Dean’s bed. Cursing at the old brother for the trick he pulled. Sam returned back to Dean’s room, holding John’s infamous journal in his hands. He begins reading aloud the page about reapers. 

“Can I sit next to him?” Sam asks through his puppy dog eyes. 

She nods, standing toe to toe to Sam. Before switching spots, Sam reaches out to her. Hesitantly grabbing her hand, and lacing his fingers with her. He gives it a tight squeeze, as if he was afraid that she was gonna slip away from him. Slowly, Sam lowers his face towards her. Panic arose in her heart. Why was he doing this now? When Dean was in a coma? Before Sam’s lips connected with hers, Dean jolted up from his drug induced coma. The two pulled apart, trying to act like nothing was about to happen. 

“What happened?” Dean asked, his brows furrowed as his eyes darted between the two.

Sam looked at her pleadingly, as if to tell her not to say anything. She gives him a small grin. 

“I uhm, I need to go uhm, do something really fast.” She says, darting out of the room.

Walking towards the courtyard of the hospital looking to get some fresh air, She finds a wooden bench to sit at, and takes a few moments to breathe. Thoughts were rushing through her head as tears welled in her eyes. There was no warning, Sam has such a mind of his own that it was whiplash all the time. Her heart stung at his actions. While yes, it felt like he was getting better, that he was trusting her again, leaning on her again, it just felt manufactured. 

The door to the courtyard opened, and John walked out. A concerned smile tight on his face. He joins her, placing a hand on her that rested on her thigh. All of the emotions became too much. John pulled her into his side as the tears began to flow. Her sobs echoed off the brick walls. John rubs the side of her arm in the hopes of bringing comfort. After a few moments, and she was able to recollect herself, John excuses himself, explaining that he needed to go see the boys. She wasn’t able to really respond. 

She takes at least a bit to gather herself and prepare to see Sam again. Walking towards the area where their rooms were, She is pushed aside by rushing nurses and a doctor. Following them back towards Dean’s room. Sam stood out in the hallway, his fingers deep in his hair. He looked up for a moment, eyes connecting with hers. His eyes were saying more than what he was able to mumble. She rushes to his side as he begins to fall apart. Catching his slumped body in attempts to help console. She was able to finally see what was going on. John laid still in the hallway, hearing them call out the time of death. She knew then that things were definitely going to change between them. Not only did she have to help pick up the pieces after Jess, but now the same with the death of his father.  But it wasn’t a burden to her. 

Things finally settled down and they were preparing to leave the hospital. A hunter's funeral was in the plans for John. Before leaving the hospital, Sam pulls her off into another side corridor, away from the eyes of Dean. 

Within a swift movement, a hand was placed on her hip, another came up to caress her cheek. Sam applies enough pressure on her hip to push her flat against the wall. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She watched Sam’s eyes as they darted between her own eyes and lips. A small ‘fuck it’ fell from Sam and he crashed his lips with hers. The kiss was harmonious. His lips felt smooth like he still took care of his hygiene just how he did when they were kids. The hand that was placed on her hip came to engulf her other cheek. As he did this, Sam became more aggressive with his kiss. Their bodies became completely flushed together. He broke their contact, and dipped his head to her neck. Placing small kisses and nibbling softly, he reaches a certain spot that he knows drives her crazy. He bites down hard on that area, sucking slightly. A small gasp of pleasure escapes her lips and she could feel Sam’s hard-on bulge against her thigh. Suddenly, a small knock attracted both of their attention, only to realize it was a doctor going into a patient’s room. Looking back at each other, they held a smile. She wasn’t sure what was going through his brain. His dad just died for christ sake. But maybe he was looking for familiarity with what was unknown right now. 

Dean calls out their name, making both of them sigh. Rounding the corners, Dean stops looking through the other rooms as soon as he spots them. 

“Come on you too,” Dean motions towards him. 

Nodding, they both begin to follow him. Sam places his hand on the little bit of her back, guiding her through the halls. Hopefully, Sammy was coming back to her.

[lazaruspiss]

Ok I’m gonna shoot my question here while you are in a analysis red hood mode (??): what do you think about his mommy issues (and fandom’s making it a trope)?

ooooo oh ok ok. this ones touchy. while i dont think its that present in canon i do think its there and worth the however many fics there are about it. like obvi theres probably a lot of boring and/or bad takes about it but the concept itself isnt running contradictory to canon or anything. i reread aditf a bit for this and had some tangents ill put in another post, but back to mommy issues.

jason had very little parental presence in his life at all. dads in prison, moms sick, he has no one looking out for him. probably why he and bruce seem to have bonded fairly quickly and jason accepted him as a father figure faster than any of the others. jasons bar for what makes a decent parent was nonexistent bc hed never really had someone dedicated to taking care of him. (even damian was hesitant, bc bruce being his dad would create distance between him and dick bc dick would no longer be his mentor, and hed gotten a bit attached)

jason accepted bruce as a father, but still missed his parents. he loved and grieved for both of them and most likely missed the idea of having normal parents in general in addition to missing his parents themselves. his love for his mom is still there when he realizes shes his step-mom instead, but it's accompanied by the hope that he still has living family out there.

the fact that jason went on a mom hunt in the first place is already enough that im like, yeah, i see where the mommy issues talk comes from. but i think you can go a few different directions with it

so theres catherine todd, who we only really know as being sick and a substance user throughout jasons childhood up until her death. iirc she died while willis was either already dead or in prison and so theres a period of time where jason (10-12ish?) would be taking care of his mother alone. being your mother's caretaker when you're still in elementary school does not make for a normal relationship.

and sheila haywood was uh. an illegal surgeon of sorts who fled the country and started a new life. apparently had an existing connection to the joker when she lived in gotham. he knows who she is and he knows how to blackmail her. while sheila describes it to jason as an operation gone wrong, joker calls it an "illegal surgery that killed a teenage girl" and sheila didnt seem to dispute that. probably watered down a lot of details in her explanation to jason. (the combination of 'illegal' and 'teenage girl' feels like it could imply an abortion? but it's left vague) and THEN it turns out she was stealing money meant to be used to save starving refugees before the joker even showed up. she sure is something. she still tries to help jason after he helps her, but don't skip over the part where she helps him after he helps her. she is still a person, but she is a fundamentally selfish person in every way. her final words include her commenting on how jason was a good kid who loved his mother. ive seen people take her final moments as a show that she still loved him, but i don't see it. one of those "a person doing a fraction of a good thing doesnt absolve them of everything else" kind of deals.

in both cases jasons mother(s) were relying on him. he never had an opportunity to be cared for and treated like a child. i don't think jason would have specific "mommy issues" about either of them, i think that he'd have some heavy feelings about the concept of a mother itself. what's it like to have a mom? does he still have a chance to be cared for and nurtured? his childhood was over before he had even met batman. becoming robin and being murdered is just tripling the issues he would've already had about his childhood regardless.

this is starting to veer off topic but

yes im finding a way to make this about Brothers in Blood. bite me. but even the first time i read this something that really stuck out is how jasons imaginary version of dick refers to him as a kid. dick doesnt really... do that. he did back when jason really was a kid, but this page says a lot about jasons self perception. he still wants to be taken care of, even if its not specifically "mommy issues" he definitely yearns for a chance to be treated like a kid again, after having rarely gotten that kind of care when he was a kid. (this page in particular is the first page of nightwing (1996) #121, which is one that i have a physical copy of <3)

[theslay3d]

Hey! If it’s not a bother could I possibly request Jason x reader he met at camp Jupiter when they were younger? Maybe she went through Lupa’s training with him too???? For the plot maybe it could be him proposing and like he’s nervous so he asks his big sis Thalia for advice and she teases him before eventually telling him to basically just go for it and then he proposes and it’s just super cute and sweet?

Jason Grace x reader

Gender: Neutral im pretty sure

Warnings: none

Word count: 1088

Part 2

A/N his i hope you like!! there's not much on jasons backstory like how much time he spent with Lupa or anything so sorry if im wrong.

Jason was nervous. He knows he probably shouldn't be this nervous as you guys have known each other for many many years. Ever since Lupa’s training really. You guys just started to date before he disappeared. 

He sighed at how long ago that was. So many years have gone by since that time. He stares at the open box in which the ring was in before closing it and stuffing it into his pocket. How was he supposed to ask you this? 

He got up and walked outside only to notice how much sound there was and how many extra kids were around. He looked around until his eyes connected with his sisters, Thalia. 

He smiled and she walked up to him. “Hey blonde boy” He rolled his eyes at the nicknames Thalia used each time she came to visit. 

“Why are you and the hunters here?” He asked as he stared at all the hunters walking into Artemis’s cabin. 

“What I can't just come by for a visit?” 

“That's not what i meant and you know it” He laughed. 

She sighed and said “Lady Artemis is hunting something near here so she thought it was best we stay here for a night or two” 

He nodded “Well since you're here maybe i can get your advice on something?” 

She narrows her eyes but agrees. He motions for her to go into Zeus’s cabin. She shudders as she walks in “This place still gives me the creeps but i like how you made it more…homely” 

“Thank you?” He questions but sits on the couch he placed in there Thalia follows him and sits besides him. 

“Sooo what did you need?” 

Instead of replying he pulls out the box, opens it then hands it to her. Thalia lets out a small little gasp. “Is this real? Are you proposing to them?” 

He nodded. “Wowww little bro stepping up” They both laughed and Jason said. “I just- I don't know when to do it or how. I bought the ring and thought i had a plan but i dont and im scared” 

“Son of Jupiter all scared” Thalia teases before getting serious. “You want my advice so my advice is to go for it. You may want the “perfect” moment but truthfully there isn't one you just have to go for it. No point in waiting especially for people like us” 

Jason knew she was referring to being a demigod. She was right to. This life there might never be a perfect moment. “Thank you Thalia” 

“Of course Jason” 

They both said goodbye and she walked to the Artemis cabin. Maybe now it was the time to do it. 

***Time Skip***

It was a few days later and time for the date that Jason had planned. He called in a favor with Apollo who got him reservations at a fancy restaurant plus other things. He fixed his collar and breathed in. He got you to come to Camp Half Blood as he said that he would have to stay there for a few days because he was doing something there. 

Someone then knocked on his cabin door. He knew it was you so he made sure he had the ring in his pocket and fixed his hair in the mirror. He breathed in to try and calm his anxiety and opened the door. 

You were standing right there. “Hi” You beamed at him with your bright smile. 

“Hi” he breathed out and shut the door behind him after grabbing his jacket. “You look amazing” 

“Thank you” 

He started to lead you to the edge of camp where he parked the car. Another favor from Apollo. 

He opened your door and you sat down. He smiled at you again before closing your door and walking to the driver's side. He got in and asked “Ready to go?” 

“Yep” 

He started to drive and after many minutes of traffic you made it to the restaurant right on time. 

Jason smiled at the waiter and said “Hi i have a reservation under the name Grace” 

The waiter checked the computer then nodded “Right this way” 

He took you to a table that was overlooking a gorgeous view. You both sat down. 

Jason was still nervous and he kept wiping his palms on his pants before he sighed in an attempt to get rid of his nerves. 

You both ordered and ate dinner. Jason is glad he called in that favor as the food here was amazing. Finally it was time for you both leave and instead of taking you to where the car was he got you to follow him into another direction. 

“Where are we going?” You asked as he dragged you by the hand. 

“It's a surprise” He pulled you in front of him and covered your eyes with his hands. “No peeking” 

You laughed but didn't peek. 

He continued to guide you until the path you were on turned more earthy. The scent hit you. It smelled amazing wherever he was taking you. Lots of flowery scents. 

He finally took his hands off of your eyes and revealed a beautiful garden. You let out a breath “It's gorgeous” 

You turned around in a circle after Jason backed off a little. So many different flowers everywhere with a little fountain in the middle. 

You stared at the fountain that was in front of you before you heard Jason clear his throat behind you. You turned and gasped as you saw him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. 

“I uh had a speech but it seems i forgot it now that i'm here” 

You breathed out a laugh and your hands went to your face. 

“I think i've loved you from the first time i saw you even though you tripped me and pushed me down the stairs the first time we met” 

You both laughed and Jason continued. “I'm gonna try to not make this a long speech but honestly you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I'm glad I met you. Thank you for sticking with me through everything in our crazy life. So Y/n Y/l/n Will you marry me?” 

You nodded as tears escaped your eyes and Jason grabbed your hand and put the ring on. 

You dragged him up and hugged him “I love you so much” “I love you too” 

Thalia was right there wouldn't be the perfect moment but this felt pretty perfect to Jason. 

[mlovesstories]

Read and Right Part 2

Read and Right Part 1 HERE 

Summary: Dean tries to salvage his relationship with YN after their big fight. 

Words: 1000ish

Warnings: cussing 

“Chop, chop, boy!” Bobby snapped at Dean. 

“I can’t do this!” He threw his pencil on the table. 

“Fine. Don’t get her back, then. Your choice.” 

Bobby stood from the kitchen table and walked into the living room. Dean heard the screen door slam. 

“I need to go for a drive.” Dean twirled his keys and left Bobby’s as quickly as he could. He drove by Jody’s but he knew not to stop. Dean saw YN’s car there and hated that she didn’t want to be around him. It had been three months, and the situation of her finding out he was her father still wrecked him. Dean wanted to walk right into Jody’s house, sit YN down, and have a conversation. Jody told him she wasn’t ready, so he needed to respect that. But he REALLY didn’t want to. 

Dean day-dreamed for a moment before slamming on the brakes. He saw someone running, not watching where she was going. He honked, and she jumped, pulling out her headphones. When she looked up at him, YN’s jaw dropped. She was right in front of him. Of his car. Dean opened his mouth to say something out the window, but she sprinted toward Jody’s before he could get anything out. 

DAMMIT. 

“JODY!” YN cried, letting the door slam behind her. The woman rushed into the living room. YN reached for her and squeezed her tight. 

After calming down enough to explain what happened, she took a deep breath.

“I’m not ready!” YN screamed.

“And you don't have to be… yet. You’ll have to face this eventually.” Jody offered a reluctant smile. 

“I know…” YN huffed.  

“Sam!” Dean slammed Bobby’s door.  He ran down the steps. 

The younger brother walked in with urgency in his eyes.  

“What?” 

“I just saw her!” 

“Huh?” 

“YN! She was running and I almost ran over her!” 

“Okay? She lives with Jody, and she lives not far from us.  It’s not weird you saw her somewhere.”

“Whatever.”  Dean rolled his eyes and went to his room. 

“FINISH THE DAMN LETTER!” Sam yelled up the stairs to his brother. “YN said once you finished it, she would talk with you.” 

Dean struggled to finish learning sounds and combinations of letters. Bobby was of almost zero help, feeling for YN. 

YN,

Im sory. I did’nt mean too hurt you. I tied to proteckt you. 

Love, Dean. 

“No.” Bobby looked over his shoulder.  “You’re not even trying.  I know you can do better than that.” 

“You’re just up my ass because you’re mad at me!” Dean turned around and stood from the chair.

“Yeah, but I also know that you can do better,” Bobby crossed his arms, face full of disdain.  

“Whatever,” Dean groaned. He swiped the paper off the table and threw it in the trash.  

“One sentence is not an apology letter.” Bobby stated plainly.  “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”  Bobby took a lined piece of paper and the pencil out of Dean’s hand.  The younger one huffed. “Don’t worry about the sounds and spelling right now.  Think about what you want to say.  Dean, what do you want to tell her?”

“I did what I had to do.  YN could not grow up in the life.  IT wasn’t safe. I’m not ashamed of what I did for her.  Although maybe we could have told her and explained it earlier on when she was a kid.” 

“You’ve messed around too much with this letter business. You and I will work together to complete it, but by the end of this, you will know how to spell every word in it and you’ll be able to read it. Got it?” 

“Bobby,” Dean sighed.  He rubbed his temples.  

“No, here.” Bobby tossed the pencil his way.  He grabbed an extra one from the counter and adjusted in his seat.  “Pretend we are writing the letter to her right now.  What are you going to tell her?”  Dean huffed, giving in to Bobby’s request. 

“Dear YNN, 

If I were to go back and make the choice again, I would have made the same one.  Hunting was not something you needed to be exposed to…..”

THREE WEEKS LATER

“...I wanted wha- what’s best for you.  If you become a parent, you’ll un- uh.” Dean took a deep breath. “Understand.  Your dad and I did it be- because it made sense, and he fell in love with you as he became friends with our family.  I don’t expect you to forgive me or whatever, but I wanted you to know that I do really love you. I’m sorry that it hap- happened the way that it did.  I hope you will forgive me eventually because you are every… everything to me.  Love, Dean.” 

He looked up at her to notice crossed arms but a smirk on her face.  

“Bobby done GOOD.” YN dropped her arms to her sides.  “I think I understand.  I just need you to know that I’m still processing.  But I do love you too, Dean. And Sammy.” She winked at her uncle as he, Jody, and Bobby looked on.  

“What about me and Jody? I put up with his sorry butt for the last four months, and Jody did the same for you.” Bobby said gruffly, but YN knew it was a facade.  

“Thank you all.” She grinned and looked at her hunter crew.  “You did really well, Dean.  I’m so proud of you.  You read that entire thing!” 

“I’m surprised, myself.” Dean shrugged.  “Hug? Please?” 

“Fine,” YN sighed, silly.  

“Thank you!” He rushed into her arms, excited that he had completed his task and was able to connect with her again.  Dean hugged her tightly as she felt a sense of calm rush over her.  

“I can read and write.  And it’s all because of you, kiddo.  I hope that you want to hang around more, but I will continue to respect your space, okay?”  He backed away so that he could read her face.  

“Actually… about that.” 

He raised a brow.  

“Can I move into the bunker? I’m done hunting, and Jody deserves her house back.” YN looked over at the other female hunter.  

“Really?  I mean,” he cleared his throat.  “As long as you keep your room clean, of course.” 

“Idjit.”

Forevers: 

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl

@super100012  @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@seality​​​​​ @jaycc7983​​​ @luci-in-trenchcoats​​​

@cherryblossomflowers​​ @because-you-never-know-when​

@sleepylunarwolf​ @choosemyname​

@internationalmusicteacher​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​

@encounterthepast​  @torn-and-frayed​

@giggles1026​ @xiumin-girl99​

@mangueweaschester​

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[gaybestie01]

HoO meme dump bc i say so

Leo: *crying softly(

Piper: Leo, what's wrong

Leo: i just realized we can never know if a T-Rex is happy cause bc they can't clap there hands

Piper: *facepalms*

Leo: *singing if your happy and you know it softly*

Annabeth: Whats the worst thing you guys have done?

Piper: Rickrolled my teacher in 4th grade

Percy: Kicked Jason in the shin-

Jason: -so I kicked Percy in between the legs

Leo: I burned a town down

Annabeth: What?!?

Hazel: what the hell is wrong with you?

Leo: alot of things

Frank: well no shit

When it's cold on the Argo II they just sit in a circle and Leo is and makes Leo sit in the middle bc he emits heat therefore he is a furnace

Jason: *going wolf-boy feral and tearing the absolute shit out a some monster*

Leo and Piper in the background cheering and hyping him up: GO, WHITE BOY, GO

Hazel: who the fuck added me to this group chat

Frank: Language!

Leo: yeah, watch your fucking language

Percy: OK WHO TAUGHT HAZEL THE FUCK WORD

Annabeth: "the fuck word"?

Jason: are you stupid? you guys use the f word all the time

Piper: oh my gosh he censored it

Leo: say fuck, Jason

Percy: do it, Jason, say fuck

Piper: I saw Leo spill his coffee

Piper: it's been 30 minutes but he's just staring at the puddle int silence, with ears streaming down his face

Piper: at this point I'm afraid to help

Jason:

Reyna: we can't tell you bc you're not a member of the club

Leo: what club?

Frank: the hating Leo club

Leo: ...The fuck? I should be the leader of that club!

The seven + nico, will and reyna on a airplane

Percy: doesn't fly but if he does he is freaking the heck out

Annabeth: works on her computer the whole time

Piper: charmspeaks the flight attendants into giveing her free snacks and drinks

Leo: the kid who kicks the backs of your seat, can’t sit still, and just walks around the cabin

Jason: sits there is a smug look on his face because he can control the whole plane with the wind

Frank: sleeps the whole time

Hazel: in the bathroom throwing up and just motion sick the whole way, poor thing

Nico: the one person who has their music too loud you can hear through his headphones

Will: watches love drama tv shows on his phone and bothers Nico

Reyna: rather be any where else

To Percy- Fav song?

Percy: Under the Sea

Annabeth: percy your 17

Percy- i saved the world i should be able to pick my fav song

Annabeth: whatever Seaweed brain, anyway mine is-

Leo: *barges in through the door*

Leo: you guys know what mine is

Piper: no leo this question wasn’t for you

Leo: too bad *sets hand on fire*

Leo, off key: this girl is on fire

Annabeth: Leo no!!

Percy: SHE GOT HER HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

Leo: AND SHES NOT BACKING DOWN

Percy and Leo off key: THIS GIRL IS ON FIIIRRREEEE

Annabeth and Calypso:

Thalia: it's never too late to join the Hunt

Leo: what's the difference from snowmen and snowomen

Annabeth: don't

Leo: snow balls

Annabeth: percy, please bring me my dagger

Percy: look, I have a sister now i'm not risking it

Nico: are you saying my life matters less because i don't conform societies heteronormative, child-centric ideals

Percy: are you really playing the gay card right now?!?

Nico, in a monotone voice: Yaass queen

Nico: looking right because you left

Percy: looking left because you don’t treat me right

Will: looking up because you let me down

Leo: looking down because you messed up

Frank: what is wrong with you guys

Will: *shoves nico onto a chair*

Will: sit you need to rest and you lost a lot of blood

Nico: im fine

Will: no ur not you need blood, what's your type

Nico: what

Will: what is your blood type

Percy, from the halfway across camp: WELL IT AIN'T ME

Nico: *face palms*

Percy: I hate Octavin

Reyna: hate is a strong word

Reyna: in this case not strong enough

Baby Artemis: dad how long can a person breath in a washer machine while its one

Zeus, chuckles: well why would you want do know that

Zeus:

Zeus:

Zeus: wait where's Apollo!!!

Me: *standing outside of a burning school*

Me: someone said they hated Percy Jackson

Me: so i called leo

To Annabeth: can you talk to olives?

Annabeth: PERCY CAN CONTROL WATER

Annabeth: JASON CAN FLY AND MAKE IT STORM

Annabeth: PIPER CAN CHARMSPEAK AND TALK FRENCH

Annabeth: FRANK CAN TURN TO ANY ANIMAL

Annabeth: HAZEL CAN EARTHBEND AND SUMMON PRECIOUS MEDALS FROM THE GROUND

Annabeth: NICO CAN FREAKING RAISE THE DEAD AND CONTROL IT

Annabeth: LEO CAN BURST INTO FLAMES AND BUILD WAR SHIPS

Annabeth: WILL CAN HEAL ANYBODY AND CONTROL LIGHT

Annabeth: AND YOUR ASKING IF I CAN TALK TO OLIVES!!!

Annabeth:

Annabeth:

Annabeth:

Annabeth: yes, yes i can

Nico: *shutting Snow White *

Nico: the moral of the story is that apples are bad for you and you should only eat McDonalds ice cream

Will: nico nO-

Police Officer: ok where do you live

Percy: with my mom

Police Officer: where does your mom live

Percy: with me

Police Officer: where do you guys live by

Percy: by my neighbors

Police Officer: where does your neighbor live

Percy: you're not going to believe me

Police Officer: tell me

Percy: by me