#the streets were crawling with wooks

[teddymoon06]

Oneshot

Sweet Home: Yeong-hu x Y/N Fanfiction

The air inside the building was thick with tension. It had been weeks since they had taken refuge here, away from the relentless horrors that had transformed the world outside. Amid the chaos, though, Yeong-hu had managed to keep his group alive, protecting those under his command, including his wife, Y/N. They had been married long before the outbreak — a bond forged through love and tested by fire. In the apocalypse, it only grew stronger, and Yeong-hu had become fiercely protective of her, especially now when every step outside was a risk.

Y/N was the light in his life, the one thing that kept him grounded in the madness. As the leader of the group, Yeong-hu had to make tough decisions daily, and often those choices weighed heavy on him. But he always found comfort in knowing she was safe, always by his side.

It had been a long day when one of his men, Jin-soo, approached him. Jin-soo's girl, Min-ah, had been sick for days, the infection spreading fast. The situation was desperate. Jin-soo had come to Yeong-hu to beg for permission to go out and search for medicine.

"Captain, please. If we don’t get it… she won’t make it," Jin-soo pleaded, his voice shaking with fear and hope intertwined.

Yeong-hu ran a hand over his tired face, his jaw clenched as he weighed the options. The world outside was crawling with monsters, each more dangerous than the last. Sending Jin-soo out was dangerous enough. And yet, Yeong-hu couldn’t deny the man a chance to save the person he loved. He understood that feeling better than anyone.

“Fine,” Yeong-hu finally agreed, his voice firm. “But you’re not going alone. Take Dong-wook and Seung-ho with you. You’ll need backup.”

Jin-soo’s face brightened with gratitude. "Thank you, Captain."

Yeong-hu nodded. “Get in and out fast. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Hours passed after the group had left. The tension in the building only grew with their absence. Y/N had been quiet most of the day, something that hadn't escaped Yeong-hu’s notice, though he figured it was the stress of their current reality. He kept a close eye on her, always making sure she was safe.

But then… she was gone.

It happened too fast. One moment, she was with him, and the next, she had disappeared without a word. Panic surged through Yeong-hu’s veins. He combed through the building, shouting her name, his voice growing raw with each call.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?!”

The other survivors exchanged worried glances as they heard his frantic cries. No one had seen her leave. His heart raced, dread settling in his gut like a stone. She had always been stubborn, always wanting to help, even when the world was normal. But this? Going outside? Alone?

Dong-wook, one of his men, rushed up to him, his face pale. "Captain, Jin-soo's girl said something before she passed out… She told Y/N about a safe route to the pharmacy. Y/N said she was going to help get the medicine."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"No," Yeong-hu growled, his fists clenched. "No, no, no…"

Without wasting another second, Yeong-hu grabbed his gear, his eyes burning with anger and fear. "We’re going after her. Now."

His men moved quickly, understanding the gravity of the situation. They had seen Yeong-hu in action before, but this was different. This wasn’t just a leader protecting his people. This was a man desperate to protect the love of his life.

As they stepped out into the night, the silence was eerie. The streets were empty, but the threat of the monsters lurked in every shadow. Yeong-hu moved quickly, his instincts razor-sharp. His mind raced with images of Y/N — alone, scared, vulnerable.

If anything happened to her…

He couldn’t even finish the thought.

The pharmacy wasn’t far, but it felt like an eternity before they reached it. When they finally arrived, his heart stopped for a moment. The front door was slightly ajar, a sign that someone had been there.

He stormed in, gun raised, his breath ragged. "Y/N?!"

A weak cough echoed from behind the counter. Yeong-hu’s chest tightened as he rushed over, his heart pounding in his ears. There, huddled on the floor, was Y/N, pale and trembling. Beside her was Jin-soo, barely conscious, clutching a bag of medicine.

“Yeong-hu…” Y/N’s voice was weak, but she smiled when she saw him. “I… I got the medicine.”

Yeong-hu dropped to his knees beside her, his hands shaking as he touched her face, inspecting her for injuries. “You’re hurt,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What were you thinking?”

“I couldn’t let Jin-soo go alone. Min-ah… she’s dying,” Y/N said, her breath shallow. “I had to help.”

Yeong-hu’s jaw tightened, his anger momentarily eclipsed by the overwhelming relief that she was alive. “You could’ve died out here. Don’t you understand that?” His voice cracked, his emotions getting the better of him. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as if letting go would make her disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, burying her face in his chest. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

"You scared the hell out of me," he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "You don’t ever do that again. Ever."

Before Y/N could respond, a low growl reverberated through the air. Yeong-hu's body tensed immediately. His grip on her tightened as he glanced at his men, signaling them to prepare for a fight. One of the creatures — the ones they had tried so hard to avoid — appeared at the pharmacy’s entrance, its grotesque form casting a long shadow over them.

The monster’s bloodshot eyes locked onto them, and in a split second, it charged. Yeong-hu barely had time to react, pushing Y/N behind him as he raised his gun, firing a shot at the creature’s head. It stumbled but didn’t go down, its gnarled limbs dragging it closer with terrifying speed.

"Get back!" Yeong-hu shouted, his body moving between Y/N and the monster.

His men sprang into action, firing in unison, trying to bring the creature down. The battle was quick but brutal, the sound of gunfire echoing through the deserted streets until finally, the monster lay still, a lifeless heap on the ground.

Yeong-hu stood there, panting, his heart still racing from the adrenaline. His first thought was Y/N. He turned to her, his eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping her face in his hands.

She nodded, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m fine, Yeong-hu. I’m sorry…”

But he didn’t let her finish. Instead, he pulled her into his arms again, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. His voice was raw with emotion. “You can’t do this to me, Y/N. I can’t lose you. Not in this world. Not ever.”

She rested her head against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, a reminder that, despite everything, they were still here. Together.

“I promise,” she whispered. “I won’t leave your side again.”

Yeong-hu closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Good. Because wherever I go, you go. From now on."

The world outside might have fallen apart, but as long as they had each other, there was still hope.

[jacksdinonuggets]

Luz and Amity Playdate

basically the title. its shorter than my usual ones because i didn't get a lot of plot to work with. sorry. requested by anon

While in the human realm, Luz and Amity decided to have sort of a playdate. The other members of the hexsquad were in the cabin so they wouldn't stress out the two. Camila would be watching over them so everything was okay.

Luz was watching sesame Street in the living room, next to Amity, who was playing with blocks. She was feeling a bit younger and wasn't interested in the tv. 

"Ami! Ami! Wook, it's elmo!" Luz excitedly pointed to the screen. Amity looked up but didn't get as excited as Luz. 

Camila came in a few moments later with snacks. 

"Hey, girls, I got snackies for you," she singsonged, setting the plate of fruits and veggies on the ground in front of them. 

Amity kind of curled in on herself and tried to back away. She was feeling very shy because of how young she had managed to slip to. 

"Hey, sweetie, do you want any snacks?" Camila asked her as Luz dug into the apple slices.

Amity shook her head. She wasn’t feeling hungry and was nervous. It was hard for her to trust adults while vulnerable. Being little makes her extremely vulnerable as her big side has barely any control over her little actions and sometimes bodily functions. She also wasn’t exactly feeling big enough to exactly eat by herself and would require help.

“That's alright, little one, I’ll bring you something smaller later,” Camila smiled warmly.

Once Luz was finished eating, she was feeling extra hyper. Her snacks came with some HOMEMADE COOKIES. Homemade cookies were the best. Especially from a mother. They were warm and soft with melting chocolate chips (i could go on forever. I love chocolate chip cookies)

“Ami, Ami! Can we play pretend?!” Luz bounced up excitedly. 

“Mija, remember, Amity’s feeling a lot younger than you, she might not be able to play certain things,” Camila told her. Luz looked a little sad but tried to brainstorm some other thing they could play.

“Hmmmmss… how abouts we…draws!” Luz decided on. It was perfect since Amity could barely even walk. She mostly crawled too. Amity nodded her head excitedly.

Camila brought over crayons and paper to them. Luz took some crayons and began drawing Azura scenes, while Amity drew small things like flowers, clouds, suns, and trees. Luz looked over at the smaller girl’s drawings.

“Wowza, Ami! Those awe really good!” she complimented. Amity was smiling happily behind her pacifier at it. She then drew a smiley face and showed it to Luz, showing her, her thanks’.

“Yous welcomes!” she replied to the drawing.

The day went on with multiple and fun activities. Camila made sure they were staying hydrated, taking breaks, and having fun. Amity got a little cranky when she got tired but didn’t want Camilia to help. Her big side nervousness came in contact with her little side and made her try and hide her grumpy pants emotion but was unsuccessful. Camila noticed her acting a little differently and put her down for a nap, knowing from Luz and her other parent friends that baby’s act grumpy if tired.

All in all, the day was great and relaxing. It was perfect to de-stress from everything that happened during the day of unity.

[touchmycoat]

Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

At 25, Shi Wudu was on top of the world. Great job, rich friends, influence as far as the eye could see. His family was often the target of jealous attentions, deserved or not, and one of the tales people most loved tongue-wagging about was how his baby brother, Shi Qingxuan, was a whole 20 years younger than him. Same mother, same father. She gave birth young, people whispered with meaningful looks, but Shi Wudu paid them no mind. (Well, he paid them enough mind to remember their names; he’d ruin their lives later, methodically and thoroughly.) Shi Qingxuan was family, and family protected their own.

At 25, Shi Wudu disappeared one rainy evening. He’d been returning home from work alone, as he did any other day. Nobody knew what happened, and the Shi family compelled an enormous global search for their golden eldest. Police at all levels, private detectives, even militaries got involved, but to absolutely no avail.

On the one year anniversary of Shi Wudu’s disappearance, a lone figure infiltrated Shi Manor and slaughtered every single member of the family, except six-year-old Qingxuan, who was reportedly only injured. There was blood matching every victim at Shi Manor, plus one extra set. DNA testing confirmed Shi Wudu’s blood, and the manhunt for the prodigal, treacherous son resumed.

It went cold after another three years though. Four years. Five.

Six seven eight nine ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Fifteen years after he was kidnapped off a rainy street, Shi Wudu was three bricks away from digging himself out of the room he’d been imprisoned in.

(**Contains major spoilers for TGCF Book 3 and Oldboy by Park Chan-wook**)

At first, he’d thought it was for ransom. For four months, he waited for the other shoe to drop, for the police to burst through the door or for the ransom to be paid. For four months, he boiled in resentment for his family, because why haven’t they paid the ransom yet, what price could his kidnappers have possibly proposed that the Shi family, with their bank accounts that he’d stuffed full, couldn’t pay?

Six months in, he began thinking maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe this was more personal.

One year in, he knew for a fact that this was personal, as he watched the news of his family’s slaughter on the single television in the room and yelled his throat bloody. Then he’d punched things until his hands were bloody.

Four years in, Shi Wudu attempted suicide for the very first time. The people who came in every time the music started, and gas poured through the vents, didn’t let him succeed.

Five years in, he got an extra chopstick in his daily delivery of dumplings.

Six years in, he began tattooing himself. One tally for every year, right there on his wrist beneath the thick ropy scars left behind by the mirror shards. So he didn’t try to do it again. Shi Wudu had never been a weak man, and he had purpose now—he wouldn’t die before he thoroughly fucked up whoever was behind this.

Six years in, he began training.

Ten years in, he’d filled four notebooks. With names, mostly, of people he’d wronged. Large chunks in the middle were passages he’d written trying to puzzle out reasons for revenge for some of the names. These were confessions, were prison diaries, and Shi Wudu had more to write.

Fourteen years in, his metal chopstick was running short, but he’d hit the last layer of brick. Once he was through this, he could get out. Whatever floor his prison was on, he would get out. In whatever way he could manage.

Fifteen years in, Shi Wudu touched rain for the first time in, well, fifteen years.

One more month. One more month one more month one more month one more month one more—

Year fifteen, Shi Wudu peeled himself out of a giant suitcase, his mind still hazy from the knockout gas, and tumbled into grass. Grass that grew on soil. Soil that was piled on concrete and concrete that was a building and there were electrical fans and wind and air and sky—

At 40, Shi Wudu was released from captivity on the exact same spot he’d been kidnapped from. What had once been a wide, somewhat desolate street off city center, was now populated with high-rises. The corner Shi Wudu had gotten out of his car on was gone, so his kidnapper dumped him on the corresponding rooftop.

Fifteen years older and a wanted murderer, at age 40, Shi Wudu walked out of the building craving something live between his teeth. He followed the streets until fishtanks caught his eye. His kidnapper had left him well-dressed, and a beggar who claimed to know nothing had come up to him and handed him a wallet full of cash, along with a cellphone.

With nothing else to do, Shi Wudu entered the sushi restaurant for which the fishtanks were installed. Sat down, he was greeted by a young, cheery-looking server who tapped all the orders into her phone one-handed, then hobbled into the kitchen more or less one-legged.

After the server introduced herself as Xiao Feng, the phone that had been handed to Shi Wudu suddenly began to ring. Shi Wudu picked it up, trembling with rage.

“Who are you.”

A smooth chuckle came from the other end. Shi Wudu did not recognize the voice.

“Only a messenger. I was the one responsible for your clothes though—like them?”

“Messenger. So what’s the message.”

Xiao Feng looked over in concern at his tone of voice.

“Let’s see, what was the message... Ah, ‘be in a grain of sand or rock, in water they sink the same.’ Got that? I won’t be repeating it, how trite.”

“Who did this,” Shi Wudu hissed, pale and forehead dotted with sweat. Xiao Feng’s hand was on his shoulder, trying to get him to settle down. “Tell me who imprisoned me.”

“Oh him? Hm, I suppose you could say he’s a sort of scholar. A scholar studying Shi Wudu. An expert on Shi Wudu. Hm, this is all dragging a bit, isn’t it, shall I interpret his meaning for you? ‘Hey, Shi Wudu, I miss you. Come find me.’”

The person hung up. Shi Wudu slammed the phone down.

“Hey, hey mister?” Ducking her head into Shi Wudu’s line of sight, Xiao Feng was grinning, looking somewhat abashed. “You seem distressed. Was that someone you don’t like on the line?”

Shi Wudu didn’t reply, just snarled and slammed his fist on the table.

“Okay alright, don’t get so worked up now, here, I got your order! That what you wanted? Something alive, right?”

A live octopus was crawling across the plate.

“I’ll go slice it up for you now— Hey!”

Shi Wudu grabbed the octopus in a rough fist and bit into its head, squirming and raw. This was it, he thought. This was the sensation he craved. The viciousness. A feral power.

Xiao Feng was watching him tear into the octopus with a peculiar light in her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak. Then she reached out as if to touch—with her left arm, left hand hanging at the end, pale and lifeless from the wrist down.

But before she could make any decision, a darkness sliced over Shi Wudu’s eyes.

Shi Wudu passed out onto the restaurant table.

[alitheamateur]

Daddy-Daughter Duty

(Giphy)

Have some fluff.

P.S. This tortured hottie should have smiled more in the movie. Simply for fact that it’s impossible to find even a slightly joyous gif to use for fiction as such. Good enough reason, right?

Another Saturday morning with a toe nearly jammed into the cavity of your ear, and very little hours of restless sleep the night before. You stressed and insisted to Tommy that it was crucial you train Ella to her own bed just one door down the hall, but the big brute just didn’t have it in him to turn his only baby girl away.

 Since her very strained birth, Tommy’s hand hasn’t left that little girls’ side. She was making trips to the gym with him at 2 months old just because he couldn’t bare to leave the house without her, despite his desperate need to train for an upcoming match. He’d caudle and swear he was only taking her along so you could finally steal a nap. But, all parties involved knew it all stemmed from his swelling heart, bursting with fatherly pride. Not that you’d complain for a second at the dutiful way he took care of his little family for a single second. But these days, you needed a few hours alone with your always handsome husband.

 “Tommy, honey. Tommy. Hey, you awake?” You whispered across the span of your crowded bed, praying not to wake the snoring little girl between the pair of you.

His lips pouted and bubbled in sleep, just like the tinier set nuzzled into the feather pillow in the middle of your bed. God help you, the child was more beautiful than a 3-year-old need be, and with Tommy’s genes, how could you be surprised? Finally, with a tickle to his hear, your slumbering man roused. Shaking and twitching at the strange alarm clock.

“Sneak down for a cup of coffee with me in the kitchen before she wakes up?” You proposed. You’d get your kicks where you could, no matter how small, with a very active toddler roaming the house 24/7.

The idea suited him evidently, said his lazy, yawning smile. He carefully took a grunting stretch and sank one foot to the floor mindful not to wake Ella, but all for naught.

She puckered a lip, squinting her wrinkly, sleepy eyelids tighter, and latched on to Tommy’s wide, shirtless back like a needy chimpanzee.  He was trapped now, and she would hold on for dear life if he tried to so much as wriggle free from her tiny little clenches. Tommy looked to you, his eyes full of internal warfare, silently apologizing for the inconvenience. The little angel was truly a wonderful child, and gave you no real trouble whatsoever. But, her deep-rooted cling to her father was becoming a bit inopportune.

Ella adored you, you were her mother for God sakes. The woman who shared her lipstick, and let you brush her hair and tie lots of bows in it. But, there was no denying the infatuation she had with the only man in her life. She wanted Tommy to feed her, Tommy to play dolls with her, Tommy to help brush her teeth twice a day. And as a matter of fact, the hellion refused to go to bed at night unless Tommy was following up the stairs to retreat in sleep behind her. It was sickeningly adorable, and you couldn’t blame the precious girl for being so in love with him, because you sincerely felt the exact way. But, she was becoming a tad snarky, and a bit defensive towards you when you tried to step into a kiss with Tommy in the mornings, or laughed hysterically in the kitchen alone with him as she sat on the living room rug watching her cartoons before bed. Ella and her “terrible three’s” were struggling painfully with the concept of sharing. Especially when it came to her daddy.

“She’s got to sleep in her own room tonight, Tommy. This can’t keep up! We’ll never get her through the doors of preschool if she doesn’t learn to part ways from you soon. We’ll have a talk with her before bedtime. Deal?”

……

You spent the day prepping the little princess’ room for her first solo sleeping night. The tiny Victorian, canopy bed had never been slept in, and the frill of her rosy pink comforter was still crisp from the package. You left she and Tommy alone at the park after a picnic so you could make a shopping run and gather some extra special last-minute touches. A nightlight shaped like a bright yellow star, a fluffy white bunny nearly triple the size of her to snuggle up next to, and a very specific doll she had begged for since seeing its advertisement on television. That was only if she made it successfully through the entire night in her own pink bedroom.

When your family of three returned home after a day of playgrounds, ice cream, and feeding the ducks, Ella was sticky with sugar and in desperate need of a bath. She requested bubbles, and you accommodated filling the tub to its rim with bubblegum scented suds. Tommy manned the grill while you bathed the chipper tot, allowing her to give you her famous soapsuds beard. She hysterically snorted and caught a case of the hiccups from her incontrollable laughter. While you were drying her off, and combing through her tangled, chocolate hair, she squeezed her soft little paws to your face and thanked you for her playday at the park. Her ‘I love you’ kisses were your greatest fulfillment.

The three of you grubbed on the healthy, summertime dinner at the kitchen table, and Ella caught lightening bugs with the neighbor girl across the street while Tommy held you on the porch swing as you warmed yourself with a buzzing glass of Chardonnay. She appeared to have used every fiber of bouncing energy throughout the day, so you prayed maybe she wouldn’t have much fight left in her to oppose parting ways with your bed, and crawling into her own.

She climbed the stairs with her favorite sippy cup, and took a familiar left down the hall towards her parents room for some shut eye.

“Ella, baby. Come with mommy. I have a surprise for you!” You scooped her up, kissing her damp hair smelling of ripe strawberries. Tommy was locking up, and flicking off light switches as he made his way behind his girls.

When you stepped through the opened door, her already vivid eyes twinkled all the more at the sight of her new furry friend resting under her turned down sheets. The nightlight was plugged next to the seat of her windowsill, and the fluorescent glow of her little fish tank lit up the bedside table.

“Baby, why don’t you let me handle this one?” Tommy kneaded into the small of your back, kissing the back of your head where the loose braid rested.

You placed Ella’s feet to the floor, and she ran directly for the rabbit tucked into her railed bed. Your husband yanked onto your arm as you passed him in exit so he could snatch a wet kiss. You stood only just outside the door, one thin wall separating you, so you were able to listen in.

“Daddy, oh daddy! Wook, my doodness! Wook at this cute ‘ittle wabbit!”

Tommy ran to her side, seating to the floor with his legs crossed beneath him. She climbed one foot in front of the other upon the bed, trying to wrap her tiny grasp around the stuffed animals neck.

“So cool, bug! What should we name him?” Tommy asked the young one.

“Elsa!” She yelped without hesitation. Everything in your life these days revolved around the particular famous princess.

“That’s perfect! You know what, Elsa looks comfy up there in your bed. Climb up next to her, baby!”

Her innocent, unsuspecting mind did just as she was told, and you heard the squeaks of the mattress when she floundered around to slide into the covers. An airy yawn followed, along with the sloshing of her lidded cup as she took a gulp.

“Seepy, daddy. Go bed?”

It was all too good to be true. Just as promptly as she had seemingly settled herself next to the newly crowned Elsa rabbit, she was crawling back to the floor in retreat to her usual sleep site.

“But, Ella Bella! You can’t leave Elsa all alone. She needs you to cuddle her tonight.” Tommy was so slick, even with white lies to his almost 4-year-old.

Your intelligent, quick-witted daughter agreed, so she simply grabs the fluffy companion by the arm and drags it toward the door, her little gown crooked around her neck.

“No, no, no. Elsa likes your room. She told daddy she likes it much better here than mine and mommas’ bed. You’ll sleep with her tonight, okay? Climb up and get under, sweetheart.” He fluffed the covers, raising up the warm blankets.

“Daddy in.” Ella demanded pulling on the collar of his gray t-shirt. The rattle of her raspy little tone gave away she was swiftly connecting the dots of this ploy, and tears waited in the wings.

“Daddy has to sleep with mommy, Ella. She gets sad without daddy! I have to give her bedtime hugs all night, just like you have to do the same with Elsa. It’s our job to love our friends, baby.”

You wanted to burst in and latch around the man and his broad shoulders. Tommy Conlon was a story book father. He may all too much enjoy the feel of someone’s nose shattering under his fist in the cage, but fatherhood was one aspect of life that he took to so… ordinarily. You knew he’d be a responsible supplier of needs, and certainly love the child you birthed, but his role went far beyond. Tommy was meant to be the daddy to a daughter, no doubt in your mind.

Ella sniffled, and you peeked stealthily around the corner to survey the room. Her little eyes drooped as a tear tickled her round cheek.

“I’ll just be down the hall, pumpkin. Mommy and I will see you first thing in the morning, and I bet she’ll let us have Cheerios, too!”

He cleaned the wetness from her face, brushing some wild curls behind her ears. His substantially sized mitt could’ve palmed her whole tiny head like a basketball. Ella blinked as if her poor eyelids were just impossible to hold open, and you could tell she wasn’t in full understanding of all Tommy was explaining to her. But nonetheless, she laid her head to the pillow, offering up her drink of water to him. Her weak little fist was massaging on the floppy ear of the bunny when Tommy finally stood up to neatly tuck her in properly.

“I love you, champ. Sleep tight.” He kissed her forehead, and his full lashes swept over her forehead.

“Goodnight, angel. Mommy loves you.” You blew a kiss to her from the doorway, shutting off the light, but her restless eyes had already sealed.

Leaving the door open, you reached for Tommy’s hand when he kidnapped you into an embrace with his arm curved over your shoulders. The pair of you watched wordlessly from the darkness of the hallway, appreciating the sleeping beauty calm in her own bed.

“Now, I believe that very empty bed is calling our names, momma. And most definitely, not for sleep.” Tommy dipped his hand into the waist of your pants, palming your backside.

“Finally, it’s mommy’s’ turn for some bonding with daddy.”

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[barnesaintdead]

Pandora's Box Prologue

Summary: Times have changed, great heroes were gone and all that remained was wreckage and lives to star over. After an alleged terrorist stack, Bucky is taken back to the past. With nightmares still vivid in his mind, he must choose between succumbing to fear of standing before it.

Warnings: smut, angst, mentions!abuse/rape/torture, +18

Word count: +1400

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Mutant!OC

A/N: This fic is being edited and reposted.

The bad dreams were not gone yet, no matter how much time passed. He squirmed on the bed, still unconscious, stirring in the dawn as if the weight of the world fell upon him. A shrill and terribly familiar scream filled the air, so close that even though it couldn't be identified, it made him cringe intead of waking up. His breath came in heavy puffs when panic enveloped him, his hands deperately searching on something — anything — to hold onto while he felt the ground tilting, threatening to throw him into the abyss the he knew it was just inched away. But there was nothing to cling but the soft fabric of the sheets beneath him that were already almost on the floor. And then, as suddenly as it started, the hooks that were hissing from the weight stopped, being replaced by slight click-clack sounds.

He was on that damned train once again. The next second, an explosion and the fire engulfed everything around him.

His eyes darted open to the cold darkness and he rolled back to the middle of the bed, his arm going up to cover his eyes as he tried to let that fucking nightmare aside. His pulse started to slow and the blood pumping in his ears were giving him the worst headache. His chest heaved for oxygen as he tried to control his anxiety, remembering that it wasn't the first time he had panicked during a dream, let alone would be the last. His head spun with the vivid details still fresh under his eyelids: the sound of metal scraping metal, the wind roaring agaist the wagon sides. The ground disappearing and giving way to an icy chasm.

He remembered being fallen in the snow, almost passing out by the ache that pulsed throug his body when his ears captured the sound of footsteps dragging trough the snow. He sighed in relief for thinking that it was Steve coming to his rescue. Only to find out that it wasn't Steve. There were more than three guys, all of them speaking a foreign language. And only when it came to him what language was that the tears flooded his eyes and he cried like a baby. Bucky Barnes has never been so terrified in his life. And he had a reason. Although, that explosion was something very new. That fire was never there before.

His vision was still a bit blurred, but he could make out Sam's silhouette, dressed and equipped, screaming at his door.

"Bombs. Not far. Fury thinks is a terrorist attack. Let's go!"

Bucky rubbed his eyes hard and yawned, his hands roaming the bed after the shirt he wore last night before going to bed. It was a little too late when they received a notification from the local cops. A small residential building was on fire, three explosions did the job and now the firefighters could not contain it. Bucky is frowning, both from the nightmare and the selfish tought that the police could have handled a smal fire on it's own that he knew he shouldn't be having.

However, his expression shifted quickly when he saw the red-orange glow and the dark smoke filling the sky from afar.

The choices we made are the ones that leads us to different paths, each decision is a curve, they can bring us closer or farther away from the end. The fate, still, works within its own rules. It has always been like that, fate is traced since our birth.

The fire department chief explained in details what happened since the beginning and what they needed to do, but Bucky wasn 't paying any attention. His heart was throbbing against his ribcage, not quite undertanding what was that and why his legs were moving towards the bulding on they own. The place was the enbodiment of hell itself. Hot, red and suffocating; flames licking the walls and turning to ash everything in its path. He wrinkled his nose when the unmistakable scent from burnt human flesh reached him. Approaching the main hall where a small group tried to fight the fire, he looke up and then to the base of the stairs. On the floor, some debris fell on bodies that were already charred.

"Buck!" Sam yells from the door when he realizes that his partner is running up the stairs without looking back, like he was hypnotized. "Fuck, Barnes!".

Bucky is now surrounded by the fire, the estructure giving in under his feat faster and faster as he approaches the top floor. The crackling of the flames are the only other sound beside his heart pounding in his ears. It is so hot he can barely breathe and the air is so toxic he can feel the smoke clinging into his lungs.

Finally, he finds it. What his heart — or instinct — is looking for. The last door in the hallway, the one that has been in his head since he set foot in that street, who knows why. Without hesitation, he kicks the door open, splitting the weak wook in two halfs. The smoke is so concentrated on those four walls he could barely see two feet ahead. The kitchen and living room were empty, the roof lining left no room from anyone to hide in the bathroom. And then he hears it. A low sob coming from the remaining room.

The girl was sitting in the corner beside the bed, the fire almost reaching her, but she seemed to be ignoring everything around her. Her eyes staring at a fixed point on the opposite wall, they don't move when Bucky enter the room and comes closer, but thick tears spill out like waterfall in her sooty cheeks. She was hugging her knees, rocking her body back and forth, shaking compulsively. Bucky dropped to his knees and crawled close to her. He knew that the smaller he seemed, the less chance he had to frighten her even more.

Now, face to face, his expression lit up in recognition. His heart skipped a beat when the girl's eyes strayed from the wall to face his, making him fall back with the sudden movement.

Somewhere outside her window, Sam was observing, not undertanding what was all that about. "Come on, Barnes! Get her outta there!" He screams.

As if his brain clicked back to reality, the Soldier realizes what is happening around them and uses a blanked he found on the ground to wrap the girl's small body and move it more carefully. She does not refure, nor does she tries to resist. She just let herself be carried away by him.

Bucky sixth sense comes to realization when is already too late. They hadn't even get to the window when the fourth explosion came. The entire top floor went down. Sam was launched into the air and Bucky has flied all the way to the ground, out of breath and coughing blood. The girl was on the other sidewalk, next to the remaining residents, covered in dirt and her own blood. She was looking dead into the sky with a faint smile on her bruised lips.

Sam rushes to his friend, taking off his head gears to get a better view of Bucky's wounds up close. He put his head against his tights and tried to keep the Soldier awake.

"What the fuck was that, Barnes?!" He asks, desperately calling for help. Wanda and Clint were already on their way. Bucky stared at him with unfocused eyes, his face covered in soot and drops of blood.

The sun behind them was rising at a lazy pace, but was strong enough for Sam to get a look at his partner's face better. Bucky was smirking.

"I... I know... Her" He says. Is hard to breathe when you can't feel your own lungs, you know?

"What?"

Sam was more concearned about the huge piece of rusty metal that is burried deep in Bucky's stomach. He pulls San by the collar.

"I know her" He says loudly and a bit harsh, then falls down, completely exhausted. His hole body ached.

"You'll be fine, pal" Sam murmurs softly.

...

Later that morning, after all that ruckus, the fire was extinguished. Residents were relocated and the injuried were transportated to local hospitals. Bucky had used his body as a shield to protect the girl, in addition to hitting his head against the glass and getting a face full of shards, the huge cut in his belly, minor burns and superficial scratches, he also had fractured his collarbone. Sam and Fury were watching the two of them from the bedroom window. Both slept soundly.

"What are we going to do with her?" Sam asks and hand Fury a huge file. "The cops gave me her data and I found this little baby in the wreckage of her room", then handled over a thick folder, full of notes and reports. The red figure in the front made Fury sigh loudly.

"It seems that we have a very big problem at hand", Fury says, rubbing the crease that formed between his brows. "I'll analyze these files. You keep an eye on them until they wake up".

[fairy-ganj-mother]

looking thru the g jones, griz, and dosio tags and following most ppl who mentioned made text posts about being at the get down in Asheville last night bc now we're grizfam~

[shimmershaewrites]

Fireworks (a Walking Dead One Shot, Caryl).

Title:  Fireworks

Rating:   T, if that. 

Warnings:  Mild language, unnamed character death(s)--originally posted as post Season 6/future Season 7 fic, so. 

Characters/Pairings:  Carol Peletier/Daryl Dixon, Carl Grimes/Enid, hints of Michonne/Rick Grimes, Judith Grimes

                                                      Fireworks

   It's late, and a blanket of stars dots the navy sky, high and bright. Up and down the street, candles wink behind loosely drawn curtains and shadows dance upon velvet lawns. The air is sticky thick like warm molasses, not even a whisper of a breeze stirring, and the crickets sing a lazy summer song that drowns out the distant discontent of the dead.

  At least Daryl thinks it's a summer song. Could be Spring, back home in Georgia, but Virginia's a bit of a different animal. The whole damn world quit making sense to him 'round about the same time it stopped spinning—you can't really take anything for granted any more, not that he ever could, growing up a dirt-poor Dixon, and he's been trying to make heads or tails of it ever since, surviving the best way he knows how. Most days he does alright. Today? Well, the day's not over yet, he thinks as he sits down on the steps, settles in with his forearms draped carelessly across his bent legs. His bones pop, and he winces, swears beneath his breath, and he's still rubbing at the aching joints when he hears the faint creak of the door opening somewhere behind him.

  Carol doesn't join him on the steps. No, not at first. She briefly considers the rocking chair, braces her hands on the porch railing instead as she stares out at the small patch of grass stretching before them for a while, watches the children play.

  She doesn't say anything, not one single word, and Daryl's not one for many words anyway. She's been like this since he and Aaron returned from their run, two days late but no worse for wear, their meager haul a strange collection of odds and ends. Even in the darkness, her blue eyes glow soft and shiny, and the small smile that pulls at her lips is thin. The desire to ask her what's bothering her is a dull ache beneath Daryl's skin, but patience is a learned virtue she taught him a long time ago now, and he knows she'll talk when she's good and ready. So he lets his attention be drawn back to Carl and Ass Kicker and the girl the boy follows like a lovesick puppy.

  Carl chases his sister in circles, dizzy and tight, a shower of sparks trailing behind him like a comet's tail. Judith's happy squeals are swallowed by the night as she's scooped up by her brother. Enid observes it all, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her usually sour mouth.

  Daryl's own smile is a revelation even to himself. He ducks his head, hides his eyes beneath the damp fringe of his hair when he feels the warmth of Carol at his side. The smothering heat aside, it's a welcome feeling, having her so close, and he doesn't even flinch when her arm brushes against his own. These past few months, with everything that's happened, losing family like they have, the distance between them has been slow to close, but they're getting there. Slow but sure, even if Daryl's in the rare position of wanting to hurry things along. He straightens a bit when she speaks, darts a careful glance her way.

  "I still can't believe you and Aaron risked your lives for a bunch of fireworks."

  Her mouth is doing that cute little Cupid's pucker it does sometimes when she teases him, and the memory of another night, just the two of them on top of a bus beneath a midnight sky fills Daryl with a warmth that has little to do with the heady humidity that hovers and lingers even now. It seems so far away now, so far removed from where they are, in this moment. But he remembers it. Just like it was yesterday. "Good distraction," he offers. And it's true. He's learned a few things here and there, from Terminus, from that prick Jesus, hell. From the woman beside him. Any way he could throw those mindless fucks off their trail, well, he'd take it. Ass Kicker's current source of entertainment? He's not even going to try to explain that one away. He knows she'll see right through any excuses he makes. So why bother? He chances another look at her, and his throat threatens to close up on him at the way her eyes sparkle at him, this time soft and sweet with amusement. That sweetness turns bittersweet with her next words.

 "Sophia used to love sparklers."

  "Yeah?" he asks, and he traces the silver path of her silent tears with lover's eyes. He doesn't know who is more surprised, Carol or himself, when his hand reaches out and cradles her jaw. She captures it in her own when he tries to pull it away, and it's a strange sensation, but Daryl can't shake the feeling he's holding her heart in his hands in that moment. Her lips brush against his skin with every softly murmured word, and Ass Kicker's giggles fade away beneath the roar of his own pounding pulse.

  "Ed refused to buy any of the rest of them. Said they made too much noise. But sparklers? He didn't mind so much. And she loved them."

  She rubs her cheek against his palm like a kitten seeking affection, and Daryl forgets what it feels like to breath, all the oxygen seeming to evaporate from his struggling lungs like mist. Unconsciously, his eyes drift downward to her mouth, and he's leaning forward, closing the distance between them inch by mile-long inch when she pulls his hand from her cheek and drops a kiss to his scarred knuckles, scooting back just a fraction and placing his hand back in his lap.

  "Know who else loves sparklers?"

  "Judith, come back!"

  The toddler ignores her brother, stumbling forward in a clumsy, uncoordinated sprint that leads her right to them. She waves her stolen prize in front of her like a magic wand, and in the shimmer of falling sparks, her cheeks are round and ruddy. She smiles at them both, her mother's eyes glowing from her little face, her stubby brown pigtails escaping their ribbons. "Caro, Dar…wook. Pwetty."

  "Very pretty." Carol agrees. She gently removes the sputtering sparkler from the tiny girl's sweaty little hands, draws shapes in the air before the tired child can even muster up a protest, and Ass Kicker squeezes in between the pair of them, resting her cheek against the worn material of Daryl's pants as she lets Carol lull her into a sleepy, trancelike state.

  With little more than a nod in their direction, Carl slips away to walk Enid home.

  Silence gradually settles over them, and Daryl smiles slightly when he realizes Carol and the crickets' lullaby have soothed the little girl to sleep. He cards calloused fingers through the fine hair spilling into his lap. When he looks up, the tenderness in Carol's blue eyes starts a slow unraveling in him that Daryl feels down to his very marrow. Before he can act, though, a throat clears, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away. "'Chonne," he greets.

  Michonne gazes at the child nestled between them with a mother's soft eyes, and Carol smiles when she bends to scoop Judith into her embrace with the gentlest of hands. "C'mon, baby girl. Shh," she croons when the little girl whines against her breastbone. "Time to get you to bed."

  "It quiet out there?" Daryl asks, feeling oddly exposed when his friend rakes a knowing gaze over the two of them. He breathes a sigh of relief when Michonne allows the distraction, answers him with only a nod of her head and a few quiet words. "Barely a peep. Rick won't be long."

  Carol nods and climbs to her feet. "It's getting late."

  Disappointment courses through Daryl's blood like a steady, building wave, but he grunts in agreement. He doesn't trust himself to look at her when she pauses at the door, just behind Michonne.

  "You coming?"

  "In a bit. Gonna wait on the boy."

  Something in her eyes flickers and her smile grows small again. "You sure?"

  Daryl feels it like a punch to the gut, hates himself for putting that expression on her face again, but he nods, stands slowly and crosses to the railing she'd braced herself against earlier, looks out into the night. He doesn't look back. It holds him up as he mutters, "M'sure." After a while, the door closes with a quiet snick and his weight sags forward. Sweat beads and crawls through his hair, slips down his neck and travels over his broad shoulders. Those damn crickets continue to sing, mock him with their cheerful boldness. His frustration boils over, and he slaps his palms against the pristine rails, pushes back. He whirls around, poised to attack when he collides with a warm body. His mouth falls open in surprise when he finds himself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes.

  "Thought you were going to wait on Carl."

  There's just a tiny spark of accusation in her gaze, just enough to strike a match to the heated jumble of his emotions, and he barks out his own complaint. "Thought you said it was getting late. Thought you was headed to bed." His flustered state seems to amuse her. The revelation just makes him more defensive. "Ain't you got better things to do than sneak up on me?" The question doesn't have the desired effect. Daryl groans when she giggles, that happy sound making the tightly wound coil inside of him snap. She's doing that thing with her mouth again, and dammit, if he doesn't want to…

  Carol's arms snake around his neck, and all her soft parts press up against him as her lips cut off the rest of any words he might have said.

  His brain short circuits, and Daryl reacts on instinct alone, pulling her impossibly closer and slanting his mouth over hers, messy and eager, and he whimpers. He goddamn whimpers when he feels the tentative touch of her shy tongue. One of his hands hooks around her waist, and the other finds its way beneath her shirt, his thumb dipping into the well of her belly button. His heart feels like it's doing a countdown for liftoff, and he's panting harshly against her lips when she rocks back on her heels, pulls back. "The hell was that?"

  Carol bites her lip and shrugs a tiny shrug, but her eyes are as bright as the stars up above, hopeful. More hopeful than he's seen her look in a damn long time. "Depends. What do you want it to be?"

  "'Member when I said we get to start over?" The words fight their way past old hurts and disappointments. They're soft and gruff and it's a wonder she even understands him at all, but if the fucking heart eyes she gives him are any indication, she does. Oh, she understands him alright. "I want to start over." Tears stain her cheeks again, happy tears, and he's never seen a sight more pretty.

  "Both of us? Me and you?"

  "Together," Daryl affirms. "Trying. What you got to say 'bout that?" He swears he stops breathing when she kisses him again, soft and sweet and reluctant to part. He lets her weave their hands together when she pulls back this time, and he uses that grip to hold on to her when she starts backing away, but she's not leaving him. No, she's coaxing him toward the door, and he feels a lightness he's never felt in his whole fucking life fill him from the inside out.

  "I still want to, if you…"

  She melts into his kiss, and they fall against the door with a soft thud, but Daryl doesn't care. His rough hands slide over her throat, into her hair, pull her impossibly closer still, and yet she still isn't close enough. He wants to crawl into her, share the same body, the same soul. He only hopes she feels the same way, only hopes she can read the depth of his feelings in the way his hands touch her, in the way he kisses her as if he never wants to stop kissing her, because he knows no words are enough to tell her how he feels. He presses his forehead against hers, tears his lips away, and searches her eyes one more time. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." She smiles at him, and she reaches out to open the door at her back. "What do you say to some real fireworks, Pookie?"