#rocking in the corner with a thousand yard stare

[ninibeingdelulu]

Seeing you comforting a child…

ft. leon kennedy, cloud strife

Leon Kennedy would never dare admit it openly, but the stoic, badass exterior melted away ever so slightly at the sight of you tenderly comforting a lost child.

That time in the ransacked village, when the haunting wails of a youngster pierced the air amidst the carnage - Leon instinctively tensed, jaw setting grimly as his grip tightened on his rifle.

But then he spotted you already racing ahead unhesitatingly. Dropping to one knee, arms outstretched in a gentle beckoning posture as the little one startled then sprinted straight into your protective embrace.

Your soothing tones murmured comforting assurances while cradling their trembling form close against you. Fingers carding soothingly through tangled hair with the utmost tender care.

And Leon couldn't tear his widened eyes away from the tenderhearted display. Throat constricting over the unexpected lump suddenly materializing there.

That million-watt smile radiating from your features as you rocked them patiently until whimpering quieted was like the first vibrant blossom peeking through the ash after a nuclear winter.

An oasis of affectionate nurturing shining through the oppressive bleakness suffocating them both for far too painfully long.

Leon found his calloused finger-pads unconsciously drifting up to caress his own chapped lips as if wishing to physically absorb the tranquil serenity you effortlessly exuded.

Eyelids momentarily fluttering closed while permitting himself to just bask in the warmth emanating from your very presence like a soothing balm against all the harrowing darkness poisoning them both.

A tremulous sigh escaped between those parted lips as the barest ghost of a smile tugged at their corners for the first time in...Christ, had it really been years since he last felt anything even remotely resembling that fleeting glimmer of unguarded optimism blossoming in his chest?

The peaceful tableau you presented with the now-placid child tucked securely in your arms struck Leon deeper than any physical combat wound ever could.

Worming past every steel-plated layer of defenses, countermeasures and failsafes, straight down into the most vulnerable core of his humanity he'd sworn died an agonizing death ages ago.

It terrified yet entranced him in equal measure just drinking in the serene display. Eventually those narrowed steel-blue irises regained some of their piercing guardedness while surreptitiously cataloging every nuance etched upon your expressions and ministrations.

As if desperately searing the moment into his consciousness to be revisited and clung onto later through whatever hell awaited them next.

Thank Christ for your influence and the inexplicable balm it provided against the miasma of torment clouding Leon's withered soul more with every passing abyss they navigated together...

The uncompromising mask remained solidly affixed in place by the time you finally lifted your eyes to meet his guarded gaze, the child nestled peacefully into the crook of your neck.

Not a single flicker of that momentary softness penetrated the hauntingly chiseled granite of his features now.

Yet behind that shuttered and fortified thousand-yard stare, the barest ember pulsed with renewed tenacity suffusing Leon's frigid disposition with almost undetectable glimmers of warmth.

All because of your natural radiance and selfless compassion reminding him why they fought on through each grueling gauntlet.

Sure he'd never verbalize sentiments that unbearably raw and guileless aloud. But that infinitesimal spark continuing to miraculously smolder despite all efforts to smother it was enough to propel them onward through any escalating onslaught yet to come.

This time with a renewed fervor steeling Leon's adamantine determination from the inside out.

The desolate, mako-tainted wastes proved no place for a child's cries. Yet the haunting echoes still pierced straight through Cloud's calloused defenses when tiny lungs unleashed their heartrending wails upon the barren landscape.

His gloved grip instinctively clenched tighter around the battered Buster Sword's hilt, jaw tensing as those predatory ice-blue irises immediately snapped towards the source of the disturbance.

Fully prepared for whatever fresh horror emerged after the merc caught fleeting movement through his peripherals.

But the cautious sweep revealed only your slender form already hastening ahead. Moving with fluid grace directly towards the sobbing bundle tucked against a crumbling wall.

His firm chapped lips tightened into a grim line witnessing you unhesitatingly drop to one knee before the distressed child without any apparent armaments at the ready.

From this distance, Cloud glimpsed your gentle features soften with bottomless compassion wholly separate from the usual battlefield ferocity.

Small hands unfurled in placating gestures exuding profound warmth and sincerity instantly easing some of the fractures riddling his own battered soul simply by proximity.

While you deftly coaxed the tiny thing into your embrace with susurrant tones and infinitely patient ministrations, Cloud suddenly found himself robbed of breath altogether.

Those glacial spheres wide and stunned at the exquisitely tender vision you presented cradling their fragility so reverently. A profound ache lodged behind his breastbone at the maternal aura emanating from your whole being.

He swallowed convulsively over the sandpaper abrasions rasping along his windpipe.

Gloved fingers betraying the slightest tremor disturbing his usual uncompromising stoicism while still drinking in every indelible detail of the intimate scene unraveling.

From the tender flickering caresses smoothed across tangled russet locks to your honeyed vocals humming soothing melodies of consolation.

All suffusing the stale, mako-saturated atmosphere with vibrant healing essences Cloud found himself instinctively gravitating closer towards.

Feather-light brushes scritched lovingly along the whimpering child's back forming hypnotic ellipses mirroring your unguarded smile radiating all-encompassing warmth across those cherubic cheeks now drenched in tear tracks.

Until finally after an eternity, the miniature form stilled in your arms. Body unlocking from its terrified rigor mortis into the very picture of youthful tranquility tucked securely against your heartbeat.

Cloud hadn't even realized he'd been holding his own respiration captive until the soft sigh expelled in a shuddering rush between lax lips.

A full-bodied flinch rattled his broad shoulders at its sudden harsh volume intruding upon the sacred tableau before him.

But thankfully, your features remained beautifully serene, wholly undisturbed while continuing to rock the now-quieted bundle in gentle rhythms.

Only then did molten sapphire pools drift up to lock with his widened stare burning with intensity across the slender lacuna separating you. A tremor not wholly attributable to anxiety skittered down his whip-cord musculature watching your radiant smile intensify directed solely towards Cloud.

As if silently communicating your infinite gratitude for him bearing witness to such an intimate and precious moment blossoming in this scorched hellscape...

Whatever parched recesses comprising the haunted mercenary's core still retained the capacity for absorbing nurturing warmth - it suddenly flooded within the confines of his barrel chest when those infinitely compassionate irises shone their benediction upon him.

Unknotting every rigid sinew and ligament hardened into a battle-tempered carapace purely through the power of your tender, life-affirming essence.

Almost imperceptibly, Cloud's chapped lips softened around the faintest half-curved suggestions budding there.

Posture unconsciously opening to welcome your pure light into his long-shadowed world while holding your loving gaze in mesmerized thrall.

As if determined to thoroughly archive this oasis of serenity and unconditional love in his consciousness so it may fortify whatever grueling battles destiny demanded they wage next.

Then in a single blink and a slight dip of your chin, the spell abruptly dissolved back into hyper-vigilance.

Yet even with the mercenary's legendary ice reformed across those exquisite Nordic features, perpetually braced for the next onslaught - a spark continued flickering in the hooded caverns of his stare.

A faint ember of something intangible yet transcendent now eternally kindled behind his armored exterior.

All because you'd reminded Cloud one of his most precious intangible dreams had been manifested into cherished reality...even under the most desolate conditions.

[vienssunshine]

Don’t know how to feel

pairing: Choso x fem-coded!reader nsfw: sub!Choso, oral sex choso receiving word count: 3k description: while attempting to escape the chaos in Shibuya station, you run into a man dressed in a strange Halloween costume

Your friends said Shibuya was the place to be for Halloween, that they would just die if you didn’t join them for the party tonight. You surrendered to their begging, it’s not like you had other plans, and put on a more-slutty-than-tasteful vampire costume to accompany them for the festivities in the square. It should be a good time, you thought, the perfect opportunity to get buzzed and maybe laid. But as the screams got louder and you realized that no, someone hadn’t slipped something into your drink and that yes, the stampede coming towards you was real, your only concern became staying alive.

You’re torn away from your friends, elbows jabbing your sides, hands pushing you to keep moving or be trampled under frenzied feet. When you look to the sky, fighting to stay upright, you see that some kind of boundary has fallen over the surrounding area, keeping you all trapped. Despite this, the crowd still searches for escape, lurching in directionless surges and crushing you with pounds of body weight every time the current turns. So when you get to the edge of the mob, you take the chance to break free and run to the first shelter you can see: Shibuya station. You hurry inside, trying to not let the blood coating the stairs leading underground deter you. If you can’t escape whatever’s going on, you’ll have to hide until it blows over.

The bottom of the stairs is covered in rubble, the gaping hole in the ceiling above it the clear perpetrator. You clamber over the loose rock and steel to land on the tile of the train station. Behind you, strange noises from the world above begin to bellow through the staircase. You don't know what could be causing such unnatural sounds, but it's clear it would be best to put distance between you and their origin.

Your feet hit the ground hard, and you’re panting as you whip your head around, looking for anything to use as cover. You spot a small divot in the wall—maybe there’s a tunnel out of here—but when you approach it, you find it filled with the crouched form of a man. He’s in a Halloween costume too—though you’re not sure what he’s dressed up as—and leaning on the cracked wall, eyes wide in a thousand yard stare. It’s clear he’s not taking the situation at hand well, but if he wants to have any chance of surviving, he can’t stay out in the open like this.

A loud roar and a flurry of screams from the ground above echos through the station.

“Hey,” you whisper-shout, “Come with me.”

Unaffected, he mumbles something.

You try again, the urgency in your voice unhidden, but are interrupted by footsteps rumbling down the steps of the train station—though it doesn't sound like a crowd of humans, rather a parade of zoo animals. You’ve got to go, now. Still, you reach down and grab his forearm, offering the poor man one more chance to come with you and save himself. He must've had a moment of clarity because because he allows you to get him to his feet and drag him behind you.

The stampede is reaching the bottom of the stairs when you turn the corner and pull the man through the first door you see, slamming it behind you. An emergency light overhead casts a dim, yellow haze over what you recognize as a closet, allowing you to spy a tall shelf of cleaning supplies—a janitor's closet.

“Help me move this in front of the door,” you command.

You get behind the shelf and begin pushing, digging your feet into the cement ground and pressing your weight against it. Fuck, it’s too heavy. The weird sounds are getting closer. You push even harder.

The shelf flies forward, causing you to stumble and steady yourself with the wall to your side. Though you wish it had been, it wasn't your strength that moved it.

You turn around to see that the man is right behind you, having joined in the effort to barricade the door, and from his extended arm, had only used one hand to do so.

He drops his arm down by his side and looks down at you. For the first time since you’ve met, he makes eye contact. There’s a horizontal line drawn across his face, just under his eyes, with what you assume is make-up, but you’re only able to study it up close for a second before his expression crumples. He backs up, pressing his back flat against the furthest wall—which doesn’t get him very far in such a cramped closet—while his eyes frantically dart over your tattered costume. Then he looks down, staring at the dirty floor beneath his feet. It doesn’t appear that his mental state has improved since you found him.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask softly, speaking as if you were trying to not spook a stray animal. His hands are gripping the sides of his pants. He must’ve seen something terrible in the commotion above ground.

You try something else. “What’s your name?” you whisper. Hopefully this question is easier to answer and you can work on calming the poor man down.

He doesn’t meet your gaze as he mutters once again.

“What was that?” you say, taking a minuscule step forward.

Thankfully, the movement doesn't startle him, but he stays curled into himself when he answers. “Choso Kamo,” he says.

You introduce yourself, and though he gives you a few quick looks, he can’t keep his eyes on you as you speak. He must be really freaked out. “I know this is a traumatic situation, Choso,” you say, “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel better.”

Choso shifts his weight, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. “You’re making me feel weird,” he replies.

You furrow your brow. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the one acting the most normal. “I’m sorry,” you say, folding your arms over your black corset—it's a miracle it stayed up after all that running. “We’ll only have to be here until everything dies down. Then you won’t have to see me again.”

“It’s not like that,” he says, fidgeting with the sleeve of his costume. He glances at you. His pale face is flushed pink. “The feeling feels…good.”

Now you’re puzzled. “…okay?”

“Can I…can I try something?” he asks.

Well, at least he’s talking now. And he seems to have calmed down, making him less likely to do something stupid and get both of you killed. It's a good idea to keep him this way, make sure he stays relaxed and reassured.

So you agree. “Um…sure,” you respond.

The yellow light flickers.

Choso takes a step forward, a step that crosses the entirety of the small closet, and lays a big hand on your shoulder. You lost the cape of your ‘sexy vampire costume’ in the commotion, so your shoulder is bare; it can directly feel the roughness and warmth of his hands.

“It feels good to…touch you,” he breathes. He turns his attention from your shoulder to your eyes, “and look at you, too.”

You shudder; his gaze is heavy. This…isn’t what you expected.

“I thought I was scaring you,” you say, looking down. There's a few bottles of cleaning supplies scattered on the floor.

“A little bit,” he says, working it out as he speaks, “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s so intense.”

That’s when you notice how strong his grip on your shoulder is, not tight enough to bruise, but enough to communicate a possessiveness. A desire for more. You flick your eyes back up to him, evaluating. He is good-looking, and the expression he has on his face as he waits for your response—cheeks flushed and mouth slightly ajar in gentle pants—is stirring up something warm in your stomach.

You place your hand on his chest. Oh, how his heart is pounding. “You really don’t know what’s going on?” you ask.

He looks down at your hand, then back to you. “I-I don’t, just that…your hand feels so warm and nice.”

You smile a little, tilting your head. “It seems that you’re attracted to me.”

“I didn’t know that was possible–for me to be attracted to someone,” Choso responds. You laugh to yourself, is this guy an alien or something? Maybe that’s what his costume is. Alien or not, he’s still cute.

“Congrats on the revelation,” you say, dropping your hand.

Choso takes a moment to ponder, and you watch with amusement. This interaction doesn’t seem real. Well, this whole situation doesn’t seem real. You hope everything will blow over soon. You’re trying not to catastrophize, to think worse case scenario. And this—

“Are you…attracted to me?” Choso asks.

—is a good distraction.

“You’re handsome,” you say. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think we are getting off to a good start.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless. He’s trying not to, but his gaze is roaming what he can make out of your body in the dim light. There’s probably a lot to see due to how much your vampire costume already reveals and that parts of it were lost in the scramble for safety.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” you ask, coy. His breath hitches at the idea.

“If…if it feels good for you too,” Choso responds.

“It does,” you say, taking the final step to have your chest pressing against his. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hovering your lips just a millimeter away from a kiss. “It feels really good to me.”

He leans forward, not able to bear another second without, but just before he can get that release, you lean back.

He voices his frustration wordlessly and you giggle. “So desperate, aren’t you?”

“You’re teasing me,” he says, a whine in his voice.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, bringing your lips to the side of his neck. Choso gasps, a sweet sound, and when you open your mouth, licking a stripe on his skin, his fingers squeeze your waist.

“Fuck,” he says, breath shaky. Enjoying his reactions, you begin to suck on his skin, earning another swear and no doubt leaving a mark. You push yourself into him, and his back hits the wall, his chin raised, exposing more of his neck to be kissed.

With your body flat against his, it’s easy to feel the hardness beneath his waist. He's so eager; you only kissed him a few times. You slide your hand past his collarbone, down his chest, slender but strong, down to just above his aching erection.

Choso is caught off guard. “What are you”—you palm it—“ngh…shit, that feels so…”

“You like it?” you ask, proud because you already know the answer. His eyes are pressed shut as he nods.

“Use your words,” you say, squeezing his erection—he winces—“and I’ll make you feel even better.”

You continue to rub your hand over the erection pushing through his robe in slow, circular strokes as he forces himself to speak. “Yes, I—ah—like it—a lot.”

“So good,” you tell him. The simple praise makes his dick twitch against your palm.

Your eyes flick down to his white pants, billowing in fabric. You tug at it, but it doesn’t move.

“It’s–uh–all one thing.” He blushes, the color prominent on his pale cheeks. “Do you want me to take it off?”

You nod, and he clumsily pulls off his purple and white robe. You still haven’t been able to place what he’s dressed up as, but you don’t offer that thought another second when Choso stands in front of you, naked and impatiently waiting for whatever it is you'll do to him next.

You don’t deprive him long, stepping forward and running your fingers over his bare chest. Yes, you were able to feel how strong he was when you had your body pressed against his, but being able to see the defined ridges of his torso makes his strength unquestionable. He shivers under your fingers, needing more, needing you to touch him lower than you are.

“Can you…?” He’s squirming against the wall, looking down at you with needy eyes. “Sorry, it just feels so,” he exhales, the breath uneven, “so good.”

“Yeah?” you say, wrapping your hand around his length. It’s hot and throbbing. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, “There. Please.”

You begin to move your hand up and down his erection in a loose fist, spreading the precum dripping from his tip down his length, and adding some of your spit to coat it completely. Choso’s head falls back against the wall and he meets your hand with shallow thrusts of his hips.

“You’re so sensitive,” you notice. He’s reacting so sweetly to your every movement, every soft swipe of your thumb over his tip, every kiss you press to his neck as you stroke him. “I like it.”

You like it enough to get on your knees on the cold, hard closet floor, and position his length in front of your mouth, just so you can get even more of a reaction from him.

“What?” Choso gasps, “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you coo, pumping him a few more times—which quickly stops the questions and starts the moans—and then take him into your mouth.

He spasms, hand tangling in your hair, unsure of whether he should pull you away or push you further down on him.

“You’re so warm…and wet,” Choso gets out.

You hum your response, something that only makes him tighten the strong fingers knotted into your hair, and keep going, working your mouth around his dick. You wrap your hands around the backs of his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him in deeper with every bob of your head. He fills your throat significantly, so you take a few breaks, kissing and sucking on his tip as you catch your breath.

Choso doesn’t seem to mind that it’s hard to take his full length, he’s too busy writhing from the sensation of your mouth on him. He's new to all this, not able to process or understand what you're doing and why it feels so fucking good. But explanations don't matter, not when the pretty girl in the outfit that made him hot just from looking at it is on her knees for him, dedicated to blessing him with a pleasure that doesn't belong to this universe.

“Fuck, please–ah–keep going, feels so good.”

Choso's moans are filling the closet and he’s holding onto you for dear life. His thighs are shaking enough to make you worry his legs will give out. “Feel like I’m gonna die,” he murmurs, lost in pleasure.

You’d smile in victory if you weren’t so focused on getting him there, and with the way he’s tensing up, he’s close. It’s funny, how he’s gonna cum already; he must’ve been worked up from the beginning.

You dig your fingers into the thick muscle of his thighs, holding on as he takes over, placing his hands on the side of your head to keep you still, and sloppily slipping his length in and out of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it’s obvious that you’re taking him well because he’s choking on his own moans, incoherent as he slurs his words.

“I can’t–fuck–oh–please–please–”

A final thrust into your mouth and his hot cum is pouring down your throat. It’s salty, but you’re able to swallow it, coughing a little as he pulls himself out of you. Then his strong arms come down under your armpits and lift you to your feet as if you weighed nothing. He pulls you into his body, gasping and shuddering as he recovers from the orgasm. Poor thing.

You press gentle kisses on his collarbone, soothing him. “You’re okay, Choso. You did so good.”

“Really?” Choso responds, his face nuzzled in your shoulder. He presses a small kiss there.

“Mhmm,” you affirm, smoothing his tied-up hair.

A rumble shakes the ground beneath you.

You swear, taking a step back to see the makeshift barricade you set up come crashing to the ground. Someone enters the closet.

You hold Choso’s arm tight. Surely you're dead now. Who the fuck is this dude? He’s in a weird costume too, possibly a movie villain because he has stitches all along his skin, even all over his face.

“Ah, Choso! There you are!” The patch-faced man is indifferent to Choso’s lack of clothing. He regards you, his grin unsettling. “And you have a friend.”

Choso’s face darkens, “She’s mine.”

“So territorial!” The intruder leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t gonna do anything…not to a friend of yours.” His words are lined with a playful deceit. “I’ll find someone else to have fun with.”

He turns on his heel, but before he leaves he says, “One more thing! Does this mean you’re out of our little game? Occupied with”—his slimy gaze oozes over you—“something else?”

“You’re not to lay a hand on Yuji Itadori,” Choso states, narrowing his eyes.

“No way! Guess you'll have to stop me then!” the man jeers, grinning like a bratty child as he disappears from the doorframe.

Choso turns to you. “I need to go help my brother…but not before I get you somewhere safe,” he says. Choso dresses quickly as you watch in a dumbfounded silence. What the fuck is going on?

He wraps a heavy arm around you and leads you out of the closet into the destroyed Shibuya station.

“Trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

Unable to make sense of anything that’s going on, you have no choice but to believe him.

[ohtoseni]

like real people do

chapter three

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x OFC

read it on ao3

the government forces soulmates to be together, no matter what it takes.

it just so happens that eve's soulmates are two bisexual super soldiers.

or,

steve and bucky struggle with their eighteen-year-old soulmate who refuses to settle into her new life after being kidnapped by the government.

tags/warnings: soulmate mark au, forced throuple/poly relationship (f/m/m), extreme age gap, kidnapping, slow burn, dub con, mental health issues (ptsd, audhd, ocd, bipolar, ed), found family, emotional hurt/comfort, sensory overload and meltdowns, eventual smut, tooth-rotting fluff, power imbalance, domestic discipline (spanking as punishment), general teenage angst, daddy dom energy, oral fixation, praise kink, implied/referenced child abuse/csa, kink exploration, p in v sex, oral sex, non sexual age regression, lots of cuddles and snuggles and crying

<- previous | ch 1

Another empty bottle of beer hit the hardwood floor with a rattling thud. It rolled its way toward where Eve sat in the corner, coming to a stop at her naked foot. She gently kicked it, sending it rolling back at the pile of fellow empty bottles. A loud crash and an aggravated yell made the young girl jump, now sitting up straight against the corner of the wall.

“I told you, not a sound!” A freshly opened bottle was hurled at her, hitting and breaking against the wall next to her head. It soaked her body in its content, leaving her a wet puddle of piss and cheap beer. “I got a fucking headache because of you, and you just make everything worse.”

“Sorry…” Eve whispered an apology, averting her eyes back down to the dirty floor. The figure stood up from the armchair, stomping unsteadily toward the young girl.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” A foot collided with Eve’s chest. All the air left her lungs while she tried to hug her body as if to protect it from another blow. Calloused hands gripped her matted brown hair, pulling her head forward before slamming it back violently into the corner of the wall.

“First you piss the bed, then you don’t fucking listen. What good are you? Can’t you tell I’m having a bad day because of you?” A harsh laugh broke through to Eve, drawing her back to the coarse voice. “You’re twelve years old and still wetting the bed. Really, what good are you?”

Tears prickled around her eyes as Eve rocked back and forth, still hugging her body in a tight grip. She tried to mentally leave the scene, regress into her head and thoughts, away from the abuse. But, as long as the figure loomed over her, she wasn’t safe to check out mentally. “I-I’m fifteen-“

“That’s what I fucking said.” Another beer bottle broke, this time above her head. The glass and alcohol showered her head, letting the tears finally flow free. “Did I give you permission to talk? Did I give you permission to cry?”

A soft noise drew Eve out of her thoughts.

“… Eve, baby?” Bucky gently shook the girl’s shoulder. Her eyes were trained on her cell phone, but nothing but a black screen was on the device. She stared at her reflection in the black void, lost deep in her head. The phone was taken out of her grasp, flinging her back into reality. She looked in the direction her phone went off in; Bucky’s hand to the very left of her. When did he get so close?

“Oh- Um- Sorry…” Embarrassed, Eve tried to sink further into the couch. She wasn’t sure just how long she was out of it for; she hoped it wasn’t too long.

“Are you feeling okay?” Steve asked as Bucky handed Eve her phone back. Her absence episode worried both of them, her thousand-yard stare into her phone wasn’t a normal state of being. As expected, Eve only nodded in confirmation, burrowing further in on herself. Steve looked toward Bucky, coming to a mutual agreement not to push it too far.

Bucky stood up slowly so as not to spook the ball of anxiety on the couch. Her eyes briefly flashed over to him, curious about his sudden movements, before falling back down to her lap. “We were talking about going shopping soon. You need clothes and stuff.”

Nodding, Eve remained silent, picking at a spot on the knee of her sweatpants. She wanted out. If Steve and Bucky took her shopping, she had an easy way to escape into the city. Sneaking off while they weren’t looking sounded like the best way to go about it. They were much faster than her, so outright running away from them seemed like a dumb idea. The point of running away was to not get caught.

The two men excused themselves to get dressed for the day, making sure to let Eve know if she needed anything, they would be in their bedroom. Eve remained seated until she heard a faint click of the door closing. She cautiously stood up, her eyes locked in on the hallway. Walking backward toward the door, she made sure to keep her steps light and slow, not wanting to alert Steve or Bucky about her movement.

The door was heavily locked- there had to be at least three methods of keeping the damn thing locked. Eve fiddled with all of them, unsure which ones were and weren’t locked. She kept twisting the doorknob, hoping that one combination was the correct one. When the door finally gave way, Eve gave one last look down the hall before slipping on her shoes hastily, making her great escape out the door.

Eve’s heart pounded in her chest as she bolted through the door, not bothering to close it behind her. She ran down the building’s steps, from the third floor to the ground floor, briefly tripping on the final step. Using the door to catch her balance, she pushed hard on the metal until she could slip out of the stairway.

The apartment building disappeared as she ran, taking random corners and alleys she was unfamiliar with. She had no destination in mind, no plan, just the instinct to put as much space between her and the suffocating walls of that apartment.

The streets of Brooklyn blurred past her; all she could focus on was running and her ragged gasps of air. Eventually, she could no longer ignore the sharpness in her muscles, the weight of the cold breeze on her face, and the pulsing of her ears to each of her rapid heartbeats. She slowed down as she turned one final corner into an empty alley, taking a moment to lean against the cool brick wall of some building.

The city seemed endless, and Eve honestly didn’t know why so chose now to run. She didn’t know anything about New York, or better yet the city layout. But now, she couldn’t find a way back to the apartment even if she wanted to. She sank to the ground, realizing she was lost and powerless.

Tears finally fell with loud, wrenching sobs. Eve continued to gasp for air from running too hard, with sobs and hiccups intertwined. She felt like she would puke from the combination of adrenaline, exercise, and crying. Now she was truly alone, with nothing but the world to face. No plan, no safety, just the endless, confusing unknown. And somehow, that felt worse than Steve and Bucky.

She wasn’t sure exactly how long she sat there, sobbing into her hands, but it felt like an eternity on her cold, aching body.

“Shit,” Steve mumbled as he did a double take down a nearby alley. Lo and behold, there sat Eve, curled up into a ball, sobbing and shuddering from the cold wind. He didn’t hesitate in running to her, kneeling and holding her in his arms. The tightness of the hug was more to lessen his own anxieties about losing his girl.

“Shh, honey. You’re safe, I’ve got you,” Steve kept repeating the words over and over to try and calm the young woman down as she choked on her sobs. Steve feared she would get sick as she dry heaved against his shoulder. Leaning back for a brief moment, he slid his black jacket off before placing it around Eve’s shoulder. She swam in the damned thing, looking even smaller than normal. Once her sobs died down to a more manageable level, Steve pulled his phone out of the jacket pocket to send Bucky a quick text.

‘Got her. Heading back now.’

Steve carried her the entire half mile back to the apartment, his hands locked together under her thighs. She would sniffle, rubbing her head back and forth on his shoulder to wipe away the tears and snot that built up on her face. He didn’t mind one bit. Occasional apologies fled from her lips, quiet enough that only Steve could hear. Of course, he immediately tried to put an end to the string of ‘sorry’s, reminding her it’s okay, she’s safe now, he’s here for her. Eve grew quieter, her breath evening out, falling into an exhausted sleep.

Turning the final corner, Steve saw his partner standing outside the building, pacing back and forth in worry. Once Bucky’s frantic eyes met his own, the brunette came running over to the duo.

“She’s out right now,” Steve said in warning, not wanting Bucky to accidentally disturb her slumber. “Poor thing is exhausted and freezing.”

Bucky reached a shaking hand out, brushing gently through Eve’s short matted hair, trying to calm his heart beating rapidly from pure adrenaline. Together, the two men sandwiched in the girl, causing her to squirm slightly in her sleep at the sudden new body heat. Steve and he shared a quick kiss, giving each other a silent look that said ‘Get Eve inside and safe’.

Walking up the stairs made Eve stir on Steve’s chest until the irregular movement woke her up. The first thing she noticed was that her head hurt, badly. It pulsated with her heartbeat, creating a ferocious tension in her temples. She pushed her face further into Steve’s shoulder until she saw colors, liking the light feeling it brought her. For now, she can forget where she is.

A hand brushing her hair back from her face broke her out of her trance. Eve turned her head slightly, looking face to face with Bucky with heavy, painful eyes. He looked sad but had a soft smile on his face. He asked if she wanted something, but Eve wasn’t listening to anything besides the pulsing of her head. Wanting to make him go away, she nodded her head just to appease him.

Eve was torn from her warmth as Steve set her down on the couch, wrapping her tightly in a quilt that normally rested on the back of the sectional. The blanket was warm and silky smooth, allowing her to melt into it. Resting her head against the back of the couch, she wiggled her cold toes that rested on the plush couch opposite her. They started to hurt from running in the cold and Eve tried her best to get blood recirculating to them.

Bucky returned with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He sat down next to Eve, carefully lifting her legs up to not disturb her too much before placing them on his lap. Eve’s eyes were still heavy, blinking slowly as if every second she remained awake was a battle. Her focus shifted from Bucky to the white mug being offered to her, weakly lifting her arms to accept the warm offering. Bucky said nothing, too scared to startle her out of the gentle comfort she found.

Holding the cup in her hands, she didn’t even try to take a sip. The mug served as a hand warmer of sorts, Eve savoring the warmth radiating to her palms. She cradled it to her chest like a lifeline, smiling softly like a child.

Seeing how accepting Eve was to Bucky’s touch, Steve shuffled closer to her on the couch, allowing her to lean back onto his shoulder in silent comfort. Without thinking, Eve leaned her head back into him, exposing her neck. She felt safe for once. Reaching a hand up, Steve gently stroked her cheek, watching her heavy eyes flutter close as he touched her cool pale skin. Eve looked so vulnerable, yet so peaceful, cuddled in between her soulmates. Her head wasn’t entirely there, but she liked it that way.

Bucky gave the two of them a soft reassuring smile. As Eve's breathing evened out, he reached over to grab the full mug. The hot chocolate was now lukewarm, having served its purpose. Her breathing became more rhythmic and slow, falling asleep in her cozy soulmate cocoon.

———

They decided to take Eve shopping later in the day when there would be fewer people in the store. Very few people did their shopping at this hour, Steve and Bucky included, which is why they chose it. They didn’t mind staying up later to make Eve more comfortable.

Eve wouldn’t take their hands to hold, opting to hold onto the side of the cart. She looked adorable holding on while Steve pushed it, her free hand playing with her bottom lip. After her two-hour-long nap, she had spent the rest of the day wound tight with her shoulders hunched, biting the skin around her nails raw. Bucky, walking behind Eve, reached over her shoulder to gently pull her hand away from her mouth. That lasted all of about ten seconds with her deciding to chew on her sweatshirt sleeve instead.

“Go crazy, doll,” Bucky said as they approached the women’s clothing section. Eve, however, didn’t make any indication of wanting to look at the clothes. She looked rather intimidated by them. Her eyes darted in between the various racks, never quite looking directly at the clothes. She tightened her grip on the cart as if its sole purpose was to keep her grounded. Eve wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do, the uncertainty gnawing at her with each passing second.

The overhead lights buzzed softly, dousing the store in an uncomfortable white light. It was too bright against the endless rows of fabric, too open, too exposed. The racks watched Eve, waiting for her to make the wrong move.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance, silently deciding to take the reins on this shopping trip. Bucky placed a gentle hand on the small of Eve’s back, guiding her toward a nearby rack. He felt her breath hitch, almost as if the very act of choosing something would kill her.

“Oh, this shirt is nice,” Steve said, pulling out a white top from a rack. “It has cute bows and stuff.”

“Very insightful fashion advice, babe,” Bucky deadpanned as he browsed around with Eve. It was more like they walked the aisles together, Bucky looking at the various clothes while Eve stared at her feet. Bucky felt her breathing grow more and more uneven, not missing her frantic eye movements between the floor, the cart, Steve, and the exit. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

Bucky quickly guided her back to Steve. The blonde looked up to see her teary eyes and shaking frame, immediately leaving the clothes behind to comfort her. Steve ran a hand through Eve’s hair, she seemed the like that kind of touch the most. The girl closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She was trying so hard to be good, to keep calm, but everything was too much. The options, the bright lights, the static mixed in with the music.

Plus, the thought of her body and her size made her want to puke or pass out, she couldn’t quite place the feeling.

“I’m going to pick out some stuff here. You two can take a walk around for a bit until she calms down.” Bucky organized a game plan for the shopping trip. While Eve was distracted by Steve’s calming touches, Bucky subtly lifted the back collar of her shirt, checking the size on the tag. Small, not unexpected, but the shirt seemed too big on her tiny frame. He would have to eyeball the size apparently.

Steve nodded, slipping his hand from Eve’s hair to take her hand in his. She didn’t push back this time- they were making progress. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go check out the books or something.”

Eve let herself be led away, giving one look back at Bucky. He already had some clothes piled in the cart- more than Eve herself had put in. Steve gently pulled her along, walking along the main path of the store, stopping to look at whatever caught Eve’s attention. Steve was a patient man, letting her look around curiously and lead him down random aisles.

They passed the home goods section and Eve made a beeline for the display of fluffy throw blankets. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, watching her touch and stroke every blanket folded neatly on the shelf.

“You like those?” He asked gently. Eve hesitated slightly before responding with a tiny ‘yeah’. Without a second thought, Steve grabbed the one Eve was currently stroking- a baby pink blanket with strawberries- and draped it over his arm. “Alright, we’re getting it,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if there was no room for arguments.

Eve blinked up at him, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t something she asked for, but Steve just smiled down at her like it was the most normal thing in the world. She looked away, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It felt… nice.

They wandered further, eventually making their way back to the book section. Steve let go of her hand, trusting her enough to let her move at her own pace now. She hovered by a display of new releases, trailing her finger over the spines without actually showing interest in any of them.

“You can get a book, too, y’know,” Steve encouraged, “Or a couple.”

Eve bit her lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I don’t…. I don’t have any money.”

Steve’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not something you need to worry about, honey. We’ve got it covered.”

She glanced up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. She wasn’t used to people just buying her things. It made her chest feel tight- she wondered what Steve would want in return for it.

Seeing her hesitation, Steve decided to take a different approach. “Tell you what,” he said, running his hand through Eve’s hair again, pulling slightly to make her eyes meet his. “You pick a book, and I’ll pick one too. Then we can read together.”

That caught her attention. Reading had always been her quiet escape from reality, a comforting safety net. And the thought of reading with Steve, of having that shared moment, made the thought of picking something out a little less daunting. Eve looked at him, a smile spreading across her face, probably the first real, genuine smile Steve had seen from her.

She turned on her heels, going into the next aisle of books. Steve grinned, looking after her.

“That’s my girl.”

[sangelune]

“Drink some water. It has ice.” / @ofauroradreams

  knock  it  from  her  hands. 

   the  thought  is  intrusive  and violent.  a  single  twitch  to  his  right  eye  is  all  that's  given  toward  it,  toward  her.  gloved  hands  curl  in  his  lap,  tight  fists  that  grip  at  his  pants. god  -  what  does  anyone  know  what  it's  like?  his  chest  heaves  with  heavy  breaths. 

   it  was  a  late  timing.  that  much  he  stands  by.  he'd  spent  the  better  of  the  time  his  facade  came  crumbling  down  on  his  own.  he  doesn't  remeber  stumbling  into  the  safehouse,  coated  in  blood,  giving  the  entire  group  the  thousand  yard  stare. 

   it  scares  people  -  when  he  gets  like  that.  to  him;  it  feels  normal.  reaching  into  this mix  that  is simon  and ghost.  trying  to  separate  his  selves  from  each  other,  bring  himself  from  the  violent  brink. 

   he'd  sat  to  a  far  corner  of  the  safehouse,  letting  the  rest  of  the  team  quietly  mutter  amongst  themselves.  no  one  really  wanted  to  accost  him  like  this.  he'd  get  himself  together,  wouldn't  he?  he  always  did.  he  was  a  fucking rock.  there were  no  cracks. 

   if  only  it  were  so  easy  to  convince  himself  of  that  fact. 

   yet  -  now  he  stares  her  in  the  face.  offering  him  something.  he  stares  at  it,  blankly.  doesn't  feel  right.  at  all.  for  a  moment,  it's  not  her  face  he  sees.  it's  his  mothers.  a  blink.  it's  beth's  face.  a  blink.  it's  hers  again.  his  mind  swims,  and  his  muscles  tense;  he's  ready  to  lash  out. 

   but  he  doesn't. 

   he  takes  the  offered  cup  silently  instead,  staring  into  it.  maybe  he'll  drink  it.  eventually.  right  then?  might  just  be  better  to  have  something  other  than  bloodied  far  too  familiar  gear  to  stare  at.