#was the 10 days of vision issue NOT ENOUGH

[goldenbrowns]

somebody else || bucky barnes x reader || part two

proofread and cowritten with @d4nshyp3r ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

summary: on his 54th birthday, tony stark goes all out and chooses to take all of the avengers to one of his ridiculously many vacation houses, this one in hawaii. given that you're now seeing a guy, you choose to extend an invitation to him so you can spend these two weeks together, enjoying paradise. the only issue is how much bucky randomly despises this new guy, he considers him impossibly annoying, as well as your odd idea to take him on the vacation. after a few days, you notice buckys made it his mission to shoo the guy away...

authors note: really sorry for blue balling in part one :( this took so much longer than I expected, oh my god??

word count: 15k (wtf?)

warnings: 18 plus minors dni, alcohol consumption, swearing, implied sexual themes, dirty talking, smut, oral fem!receiving, oral male!receiving, throat fucking, hand job, fingering, sometimes sub soft bucky (??), bucky is soo desperate, mentions of cheating.

(PART ONE - PART TWO)

Bucky groaned as consciousness slowly crept in, dragging a pounding headache and a dry mouth with it. The morning sunlight was merciless, pouring through the half-open curtains and slicing across the bed. He shifted slightly, the heavy, unfamiliar warmth beside him anchoring him to the mattress. His heart stumbled in his chest as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Carefully, he cracked one eye open. His vision stung for a moment before settling on the face beside him — you, curled up under the sheets, your hair messy, and checking your phone. Panic lanced through him, overriding the ache in his skull. His mind scrambled for memories of last night, but everything after his third—maybe fourth—cup of mead was a hazy, disjointed blur.

"Morning, rockstar," you said, your voice rough from sleep but filled with unmistakable amusement.

Bucky winced, immediately sensing the teasing in your tone. He dragged a hand down his face, half-dreading the answer to the question clawing at his brain. "What... what did I do?"

Keep reading

You stretched languidly, propping your chin on your hand as you watched him with a spark in your eye. "You really don’t remember?"

He let out a miserable groan, throwing an arm over his face. "Depends. How bad was it?"

You grinned wider, absolutely savoring this. "You got up on a makeshift stage, grabbed a mic, and sang Jessie’s Girl to me. In front of the entire party. The entire song. Really loud. Really passionately. I can assure you you're on at least 10 different newspaper headlines, drunkenly singing Jessie's Girl. I can already see it, 'From Assassin to Rockstar: Barnes Belts Out Jessie's Girl'."

Bucky's entire body stiffened. He peeked at you through his fingers, horror dawning across his face. "No. No way."

"Oh, yes way," you said, your voice bubbling with laughter. "You even pointed dramatically at me every time you sang ‘Jessie's Girl.’ Like, dead serious. You looked heartbroken."

A strangled noise escaped him as he rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow. "Oh my God."

"And you did a little spin," you added gleefully. "You almost fell off the edge of the stage"

Bucky let out another pathetic groan, burying himself deeper in the sheets as if they could swallow him whole. He wasn’t sure if the pounding in his head was from the hangover or the soul-crushing embarrassment blooming inside his chest. "I’m never drinking again. Never."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over to poke his side. "You were adorable, though. Everyone loved it."

He turned his face just enough to glare at you, cheeks burning red. "I don’t do adorable. I do badass. I do- I do supersoldier. I do- ugh... " He placed the palms of his hands against his face as he sighed loudly. He looked so defeated.

You snorted. "Last night you definitely did adorable."

Bucky groaned again, rubbing his temples like he could erase the entire memory. But your voice grew softer then, a bit more hesitant.

"And... well... after your big concert, we kinda..." you trailed off, your cheeks heating.

He immediately sat up, the sheet falling to his lap, sudden dread gripping him. "Shit. Did we—? I really don't remember that. Are you okay? Did I—?"

You sat up too, placing a calming hand on his chest. "No, no, it’s okay. We didn’t really get to it... not really. We started kissing and all that, but... I was kind of off, with the whole Mark situation, so we just went to sleep"

Bucky stared at you, mortified beyond belief. “Oh"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the sheer misery on his face. "Out like a light. You were trying to tuck yourself in and you just... face planted into the mattress."

He groans again, this time with real frustration in his face, “Wait, what exactly is the situation with Mark?” Did he finally leave?”

Your heart softened at how genuinely confused he seemed. You scooted closer, tugging gently at his arm until he dropped his hands and looked at you, his blue eyes still clouded with shame.

You couldn't help but laugh. “Not exactly, yesterday at Tony's party, he ran off with some other chick.” 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah, and when we were going up to my room, we heard them in there. But it’s fine, I’m over it. I don’t care,” You continued, not letting him answer. You could see the worry on his face slightly turn to anger, which he thought he was doing a good job at hiding. Probably for your sake, wanting to be supportive and all.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. He really doesn’t deserve you.” He tried, and ended it there, clearly not good at comforting people. “His loss, poor bastard doesn't know what he's missing anyway…” He chuckles, trying to lighten up the mood-

"It’s okay, Buck," you said, voice quiet. "He wasn't a great guy either, your performance last night outdid his whole boyfriend career, if I can even call him that." You added with a teasing grin, "And for what it's worth, you were very absolutely adorable and so very enthusiastic before you passed out."

He groaned again, dropping his body onto the mattress, completely defeated. "I am also not that guy. Just kill me now. Please," he says, looking blankly at the ceiling, looking like he's debating on whether to keep speaking. "Yeah, uh... when I drink too much, I enter this really pathetic mode," he said, cringing. "Not 'Winter Soldier'. More like 'someone please tuck me in and tell me I'm doing a good job' mode. It's disgusting. Don’t look at me. It should be fucking illegal"

You keep quiet, admiring his frustration. He's still wincing at the idea of yesterday, you really can't blame him. Suddenly, he stands up and goes to the bathroom, and you can hear him from afar washing his face and brushing his teeth. "Next time," you can hear him say as he dries his face off with a towel, his voice low and certain. "I’m making it perfect. No embarrassing concerts. No drunken disasters."

Next time?

You try to ignore this and not let it get into your head. You shift on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest. "Well," you call out hesitantly, "there’s just one tiny problem."

Bucky steps back into the room, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt nowhere to be seen, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"

"I, uh... I don’t have any clothes," you admit, feeling your face warm. "They're all in my room. You know... the one where Mark is currently living out his worst choices."

Bucky blinks, his mouth tightening for a second like he’s imagining marching down the hall and gutting Mark with his metal arm. But he reins it in quickly, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Awesome," he mutters, then rakes a hand through his hair. "Alright. You’re not going back there right now. That's a given." His tone brooks no argument. "Just... wear something of mine. Closet’s open. Grab a T-shirt and some shorts or something, you know I don't mind. You can grab your stuff later when... the coast is clear."

You smile warmly at him, basking in how domestic this all feels. Bucky's protectiveness sends heat to your stomach, he doesn't know how easy it is to like him.

He tosses you a teasing smirk as he pulls open one of the drawers. "Fair warning, though. My shirts might drown you."

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You both step into the living room, and it's clear that the aftermath of the party still lingers. The living room is a bit of a disaster—empty cups on the coffee table, confetti in some corners, and the faint scent of spilled drinks in the air. The kitchen’s quiet, save for the clatter of silverware and the hum of the coffee machine. At the breakfast table, Steve and Thor are already there, with Peter sitting across from them, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Peter’s eyes are wide, his shoulders hunched, and he's clearly in full-on panic mode. Peter, for some reason, only has his boxers on and some sunglasses. He’s staring at his phone with a sense of dread, occasionally glancing up like he’s about to bolt. He's sitting there uncomfortably, his shoulders and face are red like a tomato. The sight makes Bucky raise an eyebrow, leaning casually against his chair with an amused smirk.

"Peter, buddy, what’s going on?" Bucky’s voice is smooth, and genuine concern for him is peeking through. He’s leaning against Peter's chair, trying to hide a grin as he watches Peter frantically swipe on his phone.

Peter doesn’t even look up, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I have a test in thirty minutes, okay?! I’ve been studying for weeks! Weeks! And I barely remember half of what I read. I've never been hungover before!" Ugh, poor guy, looks like yesterday was his first time being drunk.

"What do you mean, Pete? I didn't see you once at the party. I thought you were in your room studying." You ask with furrowed brows. You're right, Peter was nowhere to be seen yesterday, you hadn't questioned that up until now.

"Yeah, probably because I took two miserable shots and had the awesome idea of getting naked and throwing myself on the pool floatie. And for some unknown reason nobody thought it was a good idea to wake me up or tell me that the party was over, cause this morning I woke up floating on the goddamn pool with the shape of my sunglasses imprinted into my face" He rambles on without catching his breath, clearly very affected by this.

You stare at Peter, your brows furrowing further as his words sink in. “Wait, you what?” You blink in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or be concerned.

Peter awkwardly face palms, running a hand through his messy hair, his face red, not just from the burns but also from embarrassment. “Yeah, so, I might have gotten a little carried away... but I swear it seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, I’m a first-time drinker, okay? I didn’t know what I was doing. The floatie was... comfortable.”

You and Bucky sit down at the breakfast table, the sunlight pouring through the large windows, casting a warm glow over everything. You sit on one side of the table, facing the serene view of the pool and the compound’s lush outdoor landscape, while Bucky takes his seat across from you, facing the inside of the compound. It’s peaceful, too peaceful for what you can sense brewing in the air.

As you start to pour some coffee into your mug, you glance up at Bucky, and that’s when you notice it. There’s something off in his expression; he's looking right behind you. Almost like he's zoned off into the distance. But his jaw is unusually tense, the muscles moving beneath his skin, and his eyes are narrowed just slightly—like he's focusing on something, sizing it up. You’ve seen that look before. You know it’s the one he gives Mark whenever the two of them lock eyes. It's a look that says, I'm watching you. And sure enough, just as you turn your head, Mark is stepping into the kitchen.

Mark’s hair is still a bit messy, his shirt rumpled, and he looks half-asleep as he makes his way toward the table. But Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off him. The muscles in his jaw flex again, harder this time. The air seems to thicken as he stares, a hard glint in his eyes. There’s no mistaking it: Bucky’s pissed.

Mark finally notices, glancing around the room before his eyes land on you. “Hey,” he says, offering a hesitant smile as he makes his way toward the breakfast table.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off Mark. “What, you think you’re just going to walk around here like nothing happened?” he growls, voice low and venomous. “And you're... just here for the mess? Didn’t think you’d want to stick around for this.”

Mark’s face turns a deeper shade of red. "I—" He starts to speak but is cut off by Bucky's scornful laugh.

“You don’t get to talk, Mark,” Steve spits, eyes narrowing. “Not after what you did.”

Peter looks over at you, wide-eyed, and mutters, “This is definitely not how I imagined my first morning in Hawaii."

Mark was obviously taken aback by all of this. He starts conjuring up a comment, which, by the look on his face, is going to be shameless. "Look," he starts, his voice casual, as if he’s the one in control of the situation. "I get it, okay? You're upset. I was drunk, and I made a mistake. But honestly, it’s not like you were all that innocent either." He shrugs, clearly not understanding how wrong this whole situation is. "You were probably off doing your own thing last night, too. I didn’t see you glued to my side, did I?" He finishes off, looking at you.

"Let me make this clear to you, Mark," You start, your gaze fixed on the man like he's a piece of shit. "You didn’t just mess up once. You didn’t ‘get drunk and make a mistake.’ You intentionally decided to disrespect me. You’re not a victim here, so don’t even try to spin it like you are."

Bucky pushes himself off his chair and begins, “Don’t you dare stand there and act like we’re all supposed to feel sorry for you, Mark. You made a choice. You know what you did, and don’t you even think about trying to justify it? You were drunk? News flash, buddy, we all were."

The table stayed quiet, but somehow, even in that peacefulness, you knew everyone agreed with you two.

"No, Bucky, you’re right," you say, taking a deep breath. You turn to Mark, fury building in your chest. "I’ve had enough of this pathetic excuse for a man standing here, acting like he has some right to make this about anything else but him screwing up. I was trying to make things work, even when I knew deep down something felt off. I gave you trust."

Mark shakes his head rapidly and scoffs, like he still thinks this is all a game "Y/n, c’mon, you're exaggerating. You're blowing this out of proportion."

You roll your eyes at his comment."You’re not even good at being a scumbag. Sloppy and stupid? Sad combo." You snap, your voice dripping with venom. "And you know what? You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. And I sure as hell don’t owe you anything either. So take your pathetic excuses and get the hell out of here."

Steve chimes in from the other end of the table, trying to control his desire to punch the living daylight out of him.. "You don’t deserve to even say her name." Steve then stood up after saying this, his chair scraping sharply against the floor. He didn't raise his voice — he didn’t have to. The authority in his tone was enough. "That's enough. You’re not welcome here anymore."

Mark scoffed, attempting one last desperate smirk. "What, Cap? Gonna throw me out yourself?"

Thor, who had been quietly seething, stood as well, still chewing onto a piece of bread loudly. The temperature of the room seemed to shift when he moved.

"Nay, not just him," Thor said, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It will be our honor."

Mark squirmed and protested as they dragged him across the living room, probably screaming all types of curse words at me. His sneakers skidding awkwardly against the polished floors.

"You might wanna pick up some self-respect on the way out," Steve muttered under his breath.

Tony, seemingly out of nowhere, strolled in from the hallway, dressed in a rumpled AC/DC T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. "Oh, hi, Mark," he said casually, dropping the reference with a completely straight face.

Thor, ever dramatic, added, "And if you ever return, pray that I am not here to greet you." He punctuated the threat with a pat on Mark’s back — one that sent him stumbling toward the exit. You didn't really know what was gonna happen with him, where he was gonna go or what he was gonna do. To be honest, you didn't care, but knowing Tony, you knew he was already tapping away on his phone calling a car for the airport.

As Thor and Steve made their way back to the table, Bucky tapped Steve on his back with a grin and said "Well, looks like trash day came early"

Tony, looking up from his phone, analyzed the room once more — the furious faces, the empty spot where Mark had just been dragged out — and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead.

"Alright," Tony drawled, "which one of you divas broke the compound before I had my coffee?"

Steve shook his head, taking a long break between each word as if looking for the proper phrasing. "Handled a situation."

"Yeah, I saw," Tony deadpanned, glancing at the door. "If you threw him any harder, we’d be getting a noise complaint from space."

Thor grunted, still adjusting his sleeves. "A cheating worm has been exiled."

"Guy must’ve had a death wish," Tony muttered, sipping his coffee. "Honestly, Thor dragging him out is the nicest thing that's ever happened to him. If it were up to me, I would’ve dropped him off of Rockefeller Center."

Peter, still looking groggy, chimed in quietly, "Mr. Stark, it was kinda awesome, actually."

Tony smirked, ruffling Peter's hair as he passed him. "Kid were gonna have to work on your definitions of 'awesome' and 'legally questionable.'"

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A couple of hours later and a few drinks in, everyone seemed to have found their entertainment for the day. Tony was telling off Natasha and Wanda after Peter let it slip that they were the ones who slipped him a bottle at the party. Natasha is defending herself, saying something along the lines of helping him build character. Scott, Bruce, and Sam were in the kitchen trying to perfect a mystery drink so they could have everyone try it at dinner. 

Down at the beach, Pepper and Maria were having some drinks, while Steve and Bucky were running along the shore because they just couldn't afford to miss a couple days without exercising. They had been trying to dig the biggest hole possible in the sand with Tony before he decided to give a lecture to Natasha and Wanda. You stayed by the pool, rubbing some aloe vera on Peter. The poor kid would not stop complaining about how much it stinged, but it was necessary, if you didn’t want him walking around with his skin peeling off in chunks. Thor, who was next to you sunbathing, opened his eyes and took a bit of pity in Peter as well.

“You are now a man, young Parker. Stop wallowing and be proud!” He started, trying to distract Peter from the burning sensation. “Ah, I still remember my first drunken endeavour. I was at the blushing age of 14, and I couldn’t get out of bed for a week! Of course my brother Loki took every chance he could to try and stab me. Oh, how I miss those days…” He trailed off looking into the horizon.

“What?!” Peter tried turning around to see if Thor was joking or not. You turned him back around, still applying the refreshing aloe. 

“Ignore him, Pete, he’s joking.” You reassure him, looking back at Thor, and give him a look as if to tell him not helping. “Oh! How did your test go?” You say in hopes of distracting him, now from Thor’s horrifying childhood stories.

“Oh please don’t remind me, I’m so sure I failed” He kept beating himself up and you weren’t really sure how to help him. Thankfully he broke the silence again, “Hey Y/n, are you feeling okay? Y’know with the whole Mark situation.” He slightly turned so he could look at you, genuinely concerned since he saw you as an older sister. 

“I’m alright, Pete. I promise.” You assure him, not wanting to worry any longer or keep being reminded of the events that took over last night and at breakfast earlier. You could tell he didn’t want to drop it so you started talking again, “I just wish he didn’t have to be such an asshole, y’know? If he hated me that much, he could’ve dumped me before I even brought him here. But let’s not talk about him anymore. I just want to enjoy our time here.”

With that, Peter seemed satisfied and stood up, making his way to the buggies, promising he’d come back every two hours so you could reapply his sunscreen. He had planned to build a sandcastle with Tony, who was still disappointed in him for getting so drunk, threatening to tell his Aunt May.

You leaned back, watching Peter jog off into the distance, still moving a bit clumsily from his sunburns. You hoped Tony would go easy on him, but knowing him, that's a long shot. As you began to close your eyes to enjoy the sun, you heard Thor sigh dramatically next to you. You opened one eye and turned to meet his gaze, which was already set on you. 

“So, what is this thing you and Sergeant Barnes have going on?” He asks with a shameless grin, he's such a gossip. 

“Sorry?” You asked him, clearly caught off guard by this question. You'd definitely expect this kind of question from Tony or Nat, but surely not from Thor.

“Come on now, lady y/n. Even my brother, far away in some strange realm, planning some poor souls demise, can feel the tension between you two” He finishes with a booming belly laugh, he really enjoys hearing himself speak, doesn't he? 

“God. Well, I don't know if there's any tension there, Thor.” You wander off, chewing on your lip for a second, just to continue your rambling, “I mean… Do you think there's tension there? I really need a second opinion here, Thor.” You're very much aware of what happened yesterday after the party, but something deep in your mind tells you Bucky was acting that way because of all the alcohol in his system. You really don't know what to think or what to assume. Was there really tension? Could this be something more than a one-night stand?

“Well, yes! I thought it was obvious to all, is it not?” he declared with a booming voice. “I could strike the tension with Mjolnir itself! I'm pretty sure even young Peter sensed it, and he's still just a hatchling.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “God. I’m doomed.”

Thor just laughed—a big, hearty, Thor laugh—and clapped you on the shoulder so hard your entire chair wobbled.

“Nonsense, Ms y/n! It's a tale as old as time: Man gazes upon woman. A woman gazes upon a man. A fable so foolish, only the fires of fornication could set it in motion!” He basically screams in your face as he keeps his hand on your shoulder, massaging it a bit. 

You can't help but laugh with him at his wording of thoughts. “Alright, Thor, that's enough out of you.” I chuckle at him, sending him a friendly smile to let him know it's all in good fun.

You peeked at Bucky out of the corner of your eye — now grabbing a towel and running a hand through his damp hair — and you felt your stomach twist again in a way that was getting far too familiar.

Maybe, Thor wasn’t completely wrong.

Maybe.

“Subtlety is an art form, dear.” Thor side eyes you and smirks just before closing his eyes and lifting his face. “In Asgard, we call that sort of staring a battle challenge… do you plan on dueling him or bedding him?”

You chose to ignore his last question and close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. You lay there for God knows how long, probably falling asleep because next thing you know, your eyes are blinking open as you notice the loud music coming from somewhere and the lack of the previously unforgiving sun.

Finally locating where the disturbance emerged from, you look over to see Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Bucky all making their way towards the pool while Sam was connecting to one of the huge speakers in the pool area. 

Thor is nowhere to be seen, and you’re still becoming aware of your surroundings while Wanda is pulling you from the lounging chair and telling you to join them in the water. You notice Bucky and Steve were already inside, in the far end, looking towards the beach and sharing a drink.

You and Wanda get in, thankful that it wasn’t cold as you had expected it to be, soon getting splashed by Sam and Natasha who thought it would be a great idea to cannonball right in the middle of the pool. 

As you both flinched trying to not get water in your eyes, the sudden commotion made the two supersoldiers turn around to see who was the culprit. As they did, Bucky’s eyes landed on you and he immediately, but slowly, started making his way over to you. 

“Hey”, you tell him, realizing how you’ve barely seen each other all day, apart from breakfast.

“Hello Doll, finally stopped ignoring me? And here I thought you cared for me. I’m hurt, truly” He joked as soon as he reached you, putting a hand over his heart to show you how seriously devastated he was.

“Oh please, I was not ignoring you,” you wanted to add more in hopes of defending yourself, until you felt his hand snaking to your waist and settling there. Your thoughts died in your throat before you could even finish the sentence, so you opted to squint at him, trying to decipher what he was planning for tonight. If you knew him well enough, which you did, you could see the gears turning in his head, figuring out new ways to get under your skin.

He noticed the way your breath hitched — just barely, but enough for him to catch it — and his lips quirked into a cocky little smirk.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he teased, voice low enough that only you could hear. His hand gave a slow, deliberate squeeze at your waist, sending a shiver up your spine despite the warm water. “Cool breeze got you shivering already, or is it just me?” It’s comments like that — said so casually, so effortlessly — that remind you just how far gone he really is. And, honestly, how ridiculous he can really be.

“You can be really insufferable, you know that? It's a genuine talent you have” you mutter to him as you splash water on his chest. It didn't faze him – in fact, it only made him grin wider. Obviously, you weren't aware of the expression on your face when he smiled back at you because he went on to say, “You keep starin’ at me like that and I might get the wrong idea, Doll.” 

Whether it was the consistent teasing, your conversation with Thor or the alcohol flowing in your blood stream, you decided to play along and see how much you could push him. You wanted to see the same feelings and reactions he was provoking in you, etched onto his own face. Give him a taste of his own medicine and reach his tipping point.

You got even closer, flashing a coy smile, voice just above a whisper “Why are you holding back? If you want me so badly then what’s stopping you from taking me right here, right now? Hm?” You watch as his smirk slightly falters and grin a bit wider knowing you got him right where you wanted him. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? The big, scary Winter Soldier can’t handle a simple question. Interesting.” 

His answer wasn’t immediate, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as his eyes grew darker. “Careful what you wish for, Doll. Girls who play with fire get their little fingers burnt.” His voice had never been as slow and steady before, perhaps he was trying to keep his composure in front of his friends who kept belting out 80’s heart break lyrics.

The closeness of your body, the heat brewing between both of you was making him dizzy, just as much as you. Though neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, silently understanding this cat and mouse game, waiting for the other to break; trying as hard as it was not to be the first one. Pushing each other to the limit was not unknown between you, always training together and challenging the other was old news. But this was different; a personal milestone you both set for yourselves, seeing the other slowly give in seemed to be as sweet a victory as finding the Holy Grail itself.

“Good thing I’m not a little girl then.” and just as fast as it started, the trance you both found yourselves in was broken.

“Okay, that's enough. Towels. Clothes. Dignity. In that order.” The authoritative voice of the play boy himself caught everyone’s attention, reminding you that you were not alone in the pool, although no one else seemed to notice your interaction with Bucky; and if they did they made no mention of it thankfully.

You suddenly remembered you had a barbecue planned for tonight, Tony had invited a guest chef who was known worldwide but you couldn’t remember his name even if you tried. You felt a sudden cold where Bucky’s hand had left your side when you were rudely interrupted. You looked at each other and, without another word, exited the pool along with everyone else, who seemed drunker than they were five minutes ago. You made a mental note to continue the mind games between you and Bucky at dinner, or whenever the opportunity presented itself.  

You enter your room and quickly get dressed, checking yourself in the mirror before heading out the door. You wonder who was already at the table, given half the group was drunk in the pool with you mere minutes ago. As you get there, you’re surprised to see most of them there, pretty sure they hadn’t washed the salt and chlorine out of their heads, all of you dangerously aware that if you were late, Tony would have your heads for embarrassing him in front of the prestigious chef.

Bucky’s eyes find you in an instant, silently demanding you to sit across from him, given both seats next to him were taken by Bruce and Scott; who, according to them, had perfected their mystery cocktail and still refused to tell anyone what it contained. In the middle of the table sat two glass jugs with a glowing orange liquid, which they brought to have everyone else taste and give their opinions on.

Sam saw you walking towards the seat next to him and got up to pull out your chair. You thanked him as you sat down and he pushed the chair in behind you. You noticed instantly the grin on his face, a perfect match to Bruce and Scott, wondering what they were planning, other than possibly poisoning all of you with their strange concoction.  That’s when he joins the conversation he was previously in with the three men sitting in front of you. Steve, who was at the head of the table, briefly got up after complimenting your dress, going over to Tony and the chef to see what was being prepared.

You felt Bucky’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, as you got a hold of the conversation between them. While he hasn’t said anything since you got to the table, you discover the plan the three wannabe-bartenders had in mind. 

“C’mon man, y’know if you try it everyone else will! I swear. It’s our best creation yet.” Sam kept insisting, but nothing could convince the man who had a different agenda in mind.

“Yeah, and the only one you’ve ever made.” You felt the need to help the poor man, struggling to hold out on his own with the drunk men surrounding him. He looked at you in a thankful manner, but was still aggravated by the request of the men.

Scott piped up from beside Bucky, already drunk, almost pouncing over him, “Exactly! If you drink it first, everyone else will follow. We need a brave leader. Like Moses. But drunk, man.”

Bucky eyed the glass and he swore he could've seen the damn thing bubbling. He held it to the light, trying to figure out what was it these three were mixed in the drink. “Right… What is this radioactive Caprisun supposed to have? I swear to god it was just orange a minute ago…”

Scott pauses for a second. He really doesn't remember. Bruce was probably the right person to ask, considering he wasn't tipsy all the way through the drink's making. Obviously, Scott insisted on trying every single ingredient to give it the 'Certified not-poison by yours truly!' He groggily turns to Bucky and says, “Uh… love?”

Scott seemed too drunk to even try anymore, so Bruce chimed in, “Bucky, do you really not trust me? A professional scientist?”

Your smile suddenly faded as you remembered you wanted to get under his skin; see how far he got before giving in. You decided to back the men up, completely blindsiding the helpless man. “Yeah tough guy, give it a shot.” And just to make it more difficult for him, you had removed one shoe under the table and trailed it up his leg; smirking as you saw him, and felt him, stiffen at your touch.

His eyes hardened and he sat up, grabbing a glass. “Is that a dare, Doll?” He didn’t wait for you to answer as he poured himself some of that worryingly colorful beverage. He didn’t break eye contact once as he downed it in one go, your ears filled with cheers from the victorious men who got up to tell everyone that the Winter Soldier himself had tried their drink, finally convincing them to try for themselves. 

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Dinner was pretty much uneventful, with everyone trying the guy’s drink, and agreeing that it was actually pretty good, yet they still refused to tell anyone what it contained.  You would now definitely consider the drink endorsed by 3 out of 4 semi-sober Avengers. You felt the buzz before you even finished your first glass, and the food was incredible. Bucky made it his personal mission to distract you from your conversations, as your game of footsie went on the entirety of the dinner.

You didn’t speak much to each other, but enough was being said with the glances you shared more than enough times. You couldnt help but notice how low-lidded and dark his eyes had become since his first drink. So when you found yourself in the pool once again with Natasha, Maria and Wanda, it was no wonder that Bucky followed you; opting to stay outside by the edge so he could still talk to you and rile you up even more, without having touched you yet.

You weren't sure which one of the girls' ideas was to jump in the pool fully clothed but you couldn’t seem to mind as you let the alcohol take over long ago, enjoying the way your dress flowed in the water with your movements. Steve was desperately telling Natasha to get out before you all caught a cold, lending her a hand. It turned out to be a terrible mistake, as she pulled him in in an instant, followed by Peter and Thor who raced to jump in the pool.

You took advantage of the commotion, and Tony’s awful singing next to the speakers, to get closer to the edge and talk to Bucky who still hadn’t taken his eyes away from you.

“No way, Doll. Don’t even think about getting me wet.” He acted like he was pulling away, although you know that’s the last thing on his mind right now. 

Your smile only grew wider as you finally reached him.“See, now you’re paranoid. I wouldn’t ever think about doing such a thing. I’m just disappointed you're gonna leave me here all by myself.” You teased, batting your eyelashes before looking over at the God who was currently in a water fight with the spiderboy. 

Bucky rested his forearms on his knees, looking down at you with that infuriatingly smug little smirk. “You? Disappointed? In me?” he mocked, pretending to be hurt. “Now that’s just cruel.”

You swam a bit closer, hands trailing along the edge of the pool, resting your chin on your arms so you could look up at him properly. “Cruel would be throwing you in this pool in front of all your friends. But don’t worry,” you tilted your head, tone syrupy sweet, “I’d never do that.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” he said dryly, watching you like he already knew what you were about to do. “I mean, for the record... I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Loose. Happy. A little drunk. Wet.” His lips curved into that crooked smirk again, eyes gleaming. 

You flashed him one last passive aggressive smile before kicking up with both legs and splashing a wave of water straight at him.

It soaked the front of his shirt and a good part of his pants. He blinked once, slow and unimpressed, as the girls behind you broke into laughter.

“Oops,” you said, doing your best to feign surprise.

Bucky stood, wiping water from his chest, shirt clinging to his abs in a way that made it very clear he hadn’t skipped any workouts. “You wanna play dirty?” he said, voice low, eyes darkening in that way that made you grow hotter.

Before you could react, he tossed his shirt aside and crouched down, grabbing you by the wrist. You squealed, trying to swim back, but it was useless. With a sudden yank, he pulled you half out of the water — and then jumped in after you, crashing the both of you beneath the surface.

When you surfaced, gasping and laughing, you found Bucky already brushing hair from your face, his hand lingering just a second too long on your cheek. His grin was wide and playful, but his eyes searched yours like he was trying to find something underneath it all.

“You happy now? Was that what you wanted? To see me with my shirt off? You could’ve just asked, Darling.” He smirks and slightly tilts his head to the side, resting his hands on the curve of your hips. 

“How presumptuous of you. That abs-to-arrogance ratio is really something, huh?” You bite back with a proud expression on your face. To be real, you were really proud of that one. Somewhere, in the midst of looking into his eyes, you heard Thor’s roaring laugh from behind you get closer. As you turn around, you see the mighty God of Thunder make his way to you with a drink in hand, slowly but surely. Before you can go after Thor and eagerly greet him, Bucky's hands move swiftly to pull you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist in a firm grip. It's as if he's making sure you couldn't escape, like he's marking his territory. The move is intentional — calculated, even. He doesn't just hold you, he controls where you go. You feel your heart race as his chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body radiating through you, even through the cold water.

And just before Thor is close enough to hear you, Bucky pulls you in even closer and whispers "You're not getting away so easily this time," he says, voice low and hot against your neck. "You like to run, huh? I don't think so, Doll." His grip tightens slightly, and your breath hitches at the sudden intensity.

“Ah, I see the tension here!" Thor laughs, slapping Bucky's shoulder quickly as if the two of them were in some kind of camaraderie, which only makes the situation weirder. "But you know, the one thing you both should know is the real tension I’ve faced in my life…” He pauses dramatically, catching everyone's attention like he’s about to reveal some hidden truth.

Before Bucky, behind you, could protest “Thor-,” he launches into a full tale.

“Let me tell you of the time I fought the mighty Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent. This was no ordinary beast! Oh no, this creature was massive, huge, like a mountain with fangs! I had to climb its back as it thrashed through the ocean waves.” He gestures wildly, inadvertently bumping into Bucky, who looks less than impressed. Thor doesn’t notice, of course, continuing his story with all the flair of a man who’s had too much mead. 

People start gathering around the group to listen, in the light of this being one of the first genuinely interesting tales Thor’s told in a while, and soon, he has a crowd. Even Tony, who was immersed in his 80’s hits karaoke, had stopped singing and brought a stool to the edge of the pool to listen to the story.

Bucky on the other hand, probably as an excuse to get comfortable, took a few steps back to settle in one of the inner corners of the pool, nestling there with you still in his arms. You could feel him shuffling behind you, now feeling closer than ever. For a moment, only your back was pressed to his chest, but after a second, when he noticed this, he grabbed you by your hipbones and forced you onto his lap.

He didn’t ask, didn’t give you a chance to wriggle away — just guided you down with firm hands until you were perched right where he wanted you, legs between his, your back against his broad chest, and his arms loosely draped around your waist like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Much better,” Bucky murmured in your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction as he shifted slightly beneath you, settling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting distracted, not when I’m trying so hard to keep you entertained.” You just looked back at him over his shoulder, wanting to bite back, but you just side-eyed him while shaking your head. There is no way in hell hes so cocky. 

“You always get this quiet when you’re sitting on a lap, or is it just when you’re enjoying yourself?” Bucky was now making himself comfortable, resting his head against your shoulder.“I mean, if I knew this is what it took to get you to settle down and listen to a story, I would’ve offered my lap way sooner,” he added, smugness practically radiating off him.

You roll your eyes and sush him “Can you please? Im listening to a story here. Ever heard of common decency?” 

“Go on, keep pretending you’re here for Thor’s epic saga,” he murmured. “But I’ve got a better story for you, sweetheart. One with a little less lightning and a lot more tension.”

He taps you dangerously low on your abdomen, his voice smooth, “And I’m a real fan of happy endings.”

You can’t even hide your grin anymore. Thor, completely oblivious to any awkwardness, is now fully engrossed in his own story, surrounded by a group that’s all-too-happy to let him entertain them.

“...and there I was, in the finest gown of Asgard, about to deliver the most epic punch to the giant you’ve ever seen. No one else would dare…” he trails off, completely unaware that Bucky had started palpably growing harder.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when the last ripple in the pool finally began to settle, and the chaos of the night simmered down to something quieter, lazier. The music had been reduced to a mellow background hum, the once-bright string lights above now flickering faintly like they were tired too.

Tony had one arm around Peter, half-dragging, half-carrying him out of the water while muttering something about child labor laws and the next Avengers meeting being a pool-free event. Peter, clearly past the point of resistance, had his goggles askew on his forehead and was mumbling about how he definitely didn’t lose the underwater breath-holding contest to Thor.

Speaking of whom, the thunder god stumbled out of the pool, soaked and happy, with one arm slung over Vision’s shoulder and the other over Wanda’s, telling them he was fine and that he always walks sideways when he’s “this full of honor and mead.” Thor continued to walk lopsided, telling both of them how much he loves them, kissing Vision on the head. “Did you feel that? I'm well aware you're an android, but did you feel that?” Wanda looked ready to drop them both.

Sam, Bruce, and Scott had long disappeared. You suspected their mission to test the second batch of “extraterrestrial” cocktails had either knocked them out cold or led them to explore the stars themselves. Probably unconscious behind a bush somewhere, earning tomorrow’s hangover with scientific dedication. The mere thought of this made you shake your head. Those three were going to be the next ‘Parker catch-22 situation.’ 

Somewhere in the chaos, Steve and Natasha had vanished. Not an emergency-vanish, but a very telling, low-key one. Natasha had turned to you with her usual amused smirk just before she left and called, “You two planning to stay outside? You wanna catch a cold or something?” The wink she gave you at the end made it hard to tell if she meant a literal cold or something more... suspicious. Steve jumped at Nat's words as if he meant to say something similar but forgot amidst all the chaos. "Yeah, guys, please clean up and get ready for bed. And you two, come inside, it's getting cold. Don't want you sick on the boat tomorrow. No one here is willing to babysit." He punctuates the whole thing with a few claps to get everyone's attention, as if we were cadets.

Right, the boat. You had forgotten all about that. Tony dropped the bomb that he was taking the yacht out tomorrow, between rounds two or three of Scott's mystery drink. Of course, he was. Because why wouldn’t there be a yacht involved? Steve trailed behind Natasha not long after, visibly flustered when she whispered something in his ear. Were they flirting?

"Alright, yeah, old man," Bucky mutters from behind you in the water like they both aren't well over a hundred years old, rolling his eyes playfully at Steve's comment.

You sighed and finally peeled yourself away from the water, the soaked dress clinging to your skin with every step you took toward the towel rack. The hem of it slapped against your ankles with a sad little shhhk shhhk noise. It seemed a good idea at the time — jumping in fully clothed — and in your defense, it still kind of was. Until now.

Behind you, Bucky climbed out too, dripping from head to toe, his chest slick and shining under the soft garden lights. His pants were sticking to him in a way that made you momentarily forget how to walk in a straight line. He ran a hand through his hair, flipping the water from it in an almost rude display of hotness, and shot you a tired, lopsided grin.

“Not going inside like this,” you said, looking back at him, expecting an answer.

“Yeah, I’m not in the mood to hear Steve get into the ‘how pneumonia starts’ lecture,” Bucky replied, snatching a towel with one hand. With his metal arm, he started fidgeting with the pants belt buckle, trying to take it off. When he succeeded, he slung the towel over his shoulder to easily take his pants off, which were, from what you could tell, irksomely stuck to his skin by the moisture. Who would have thought Srg. James Buchanan Barnes wore boxer briefs? Huffing loudly, he swung the pants over the back of a lounge chair and wrapped the towel over his waist. The towel hugged his hips in a way that made it very hard not to look — especially when he looked so smug about you trying not to look.

“Not to sound like Steve or anything — and I swear this isn’t just an excuse to get you naked — but you really should ditch the wet clothes. That actually is how pneumonia starts” 

You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you folded your soaked dress over the back of a chair. “Wow. That’s the line we’re going with, huh? ‘Medical precaution’? What’s next, Bucky? You gonna tell me your towel and ducky boxer briefs keep slipping because of gravity?”

His lips quirked up instantly with a scoff like he cant believe youre making fun of him for that, the cocky glint in his eyes sharpening as he turned toward you with that maddening, slow smile. “Hey, I’ll have you know these duckies are very aerodynamic,” he points both of his index fingers in the shape of finger guns to his crotch, still completely gobsmacked you would say that. “Also, if you excuse me, your highness," he starts, with a distinguishable glint of sarcasm to his words, "Gravity is a very real thing. You’re gonna fight science now?” He scoffs at you, turning his back to you to hang his jeans properly off the chair.

"Whatever…” you muttered with a sigh, grabbing your towel and tossing it onto one of the nearby chairs. With as much discretion as you could manage, you began shimmying out of your soaked dress—assuming Bucky had the decency to keep his back turned.

He did not.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment you turned around and started slipping out of your clothes, he glanced over his shoulder—completely shameless, pants still half-folded in the air. His eyes lingered, taking you in with a familiarity that made his chest ache. He’d seen you like this before—of course he had. He remembered every second of that night, every curve and breath and sound burned into his memory. How could he possibly forget?

But this—this felt different. There was something about seeing you again like this, in the quiet aftermath of laughter and water and heat, that made it all feel undeniably real. Not a memory. Not a fantasy. Just you. Something he was not used to. As he snapped out of his trail of thought, he gave you a once-over, admiring the shape of your every curve. Tilting his head so very slightly at the sight of your ass, the shape of your thighs and the smooth arch of your waist. He couldn't help but think how awfully hard your little hops were making the whole situation.

And with all the pride of a man caught in the act of watching a woman secretly undress, he really hoped you'd stop—because, well, the situation wasn’t the only thing getting harder.

And still, he said nothing. The weight of his silence pressed against the space between you, daring you to acknowledge the heat of his gaze. Almost like he was testing how long you could pretend you didn’t notice. You finally slipped off your dress and grabbed your towel from the chair, wrapping it around your body and securing it with a twist. He almost kissed his teeth with disappointment at watching you covered up again.

Once the dress was off, you folded it over your arm and tightened the towel around yourself.

“There,” you said with a shrug, voice dry. “Happy now? I’ve officially joined the nudist squad.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away, just ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, eyes dragging over you with no shame at all. Then he smirked.

“Oh, very,” he drawled, leaning back against the lounger with his arms folded, the towel dipping just a bit lower on his hips than necessary. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty about staring.”

"Oh, please! Right, like you were guilty before. Don't act so innocent." You snort and turn around, gesturing for him to follow you.

The soft feel of grass under bare feet was oddly soothing as you and Bucky made your way down the narrow garden path, towels wrapped around your still-damp bodies. The compound behind you was finally quiet. You could hear the faint hum of music Tony had forgotten to turn off.

Ahead, a wooden gazebo lounged at the edge of the garden, half-shadowed by trees and glowing softly under warm hanging lights. You made a small noise of approval when you saw it—cozy, empty, and, most importantly, far from everyone else.

“This looks nice,” you murmured, glancing sideways at Bucky.

He grunted in agreement, adjusting the towel around his waist with one hand. “Bet Tony spent ten grand just on those fairy lights.”

You snorted. “They’re probably from Wakanda. Imported and blessed by some high priestess or something.”

He chuckled, and the sound came easy. The kind of laugh that only seemed to escape him when it was just the two of you. He only ever snorted like that when he was around you, a sound so innocent, so free of burden that it made your heart churn.

You climbed the short steps and plopped onto one of the cushioned loungers, the towel around you slipping slightly, revealing the bare line of your shoulder. Bucky followed and took the spot beside you, leaving only a breath of space between your legs, but you were way past all of that already, so you let your thigh rest on top of his. His torso still gleamed faintly from the water, arms draped across the back of the chair like he had no idea what that did to your ability to speak in full sentences.

“Y’know,” you said after a beat, tilting your head back to look up at the strings of light above you, “this whole night- well, these two days to be fair, have been weird. Good-weird. Like… weird in the way I kinda needed?”

Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding softly. “Yeah. I get that.”

You let the silence stretch comfortably for a moment, watching a few bugs flicker around one of the lights before continuing. “It’s been chaos lately. Nonstop missions, briefings, all that. So, just being here… with everyone being human for a change, it’s nice.”

He nodded, like it finally dawned on him, “We don’t get many nights like this. Where it feels like we’re not soldiers or Avengers—just people.”

You hummed in agreement, then gave him a sidelong glance. “Especially you. You’ve been…” You trailed off, searching for the word.

“Less broody?” he offered, smirking.

“I was gonna say ‘actually fun,’ but sure, that works too,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

He chuckled again, the sound a little rougher this time. “Yeah, well.. You make it easier.” giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile.

That made your stomach flip slightly—not just because of the compliment, but the way he said it. Quiet. Honest. You studied him for a second, the way the line of his jaw twitched under your gaze, the way the towel dipped slightly at his hip from where he leaned forward. Your fingers toyed with a loose thread on your towel before you cleared your throat.

“So… there’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

He raised a brow, head turning slightly toward you, almost sure he knew what you were about to say. “Yeah?” he said a bit hesitantly.

“That night,” you said, finally. “The… first one." You chuckle, noticing how strange that sounds. "The one-night stand that wasn’t really just a night.”

Bucky didn’t tense. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he sat a little straighter, like he’d been expecting it—maybe even waiting for it.

“What about it?”

You shrugged, looking ahead. “I guess I never asked how it felt for you. I mean… it wasn’t just sex. At least, it didn’t feel like that to me. But then we both just… pretended it didn’t happen. Which, looking back at it now, was probably the worst decision we ever made.” You sigh and your eyes flick over to his confused expression "Oh no, I meant the whole 'ignoring it ever happened' thing!"

"Oh, right," he nods with a forced smile. He was quiet for a beat. Then, “It didn’t feel like just sex to me either.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. He looked calm, but there was something in his eyes—something that made your chest ache.

“I didn’t know what to do after,” he admitted. “I woke up and thought, ‘Well, shit. This is gonna mess me up.’ Not because it was bad. But because it felt real. And real is... hard for me.”

You swallowed. ���Yeah. Same.”

“I tried to act like it didn’t mean something. Thought maybe you’d be better off if I stayed distant. Didn’t want to screw it up by wanting more.” Bucky pressed his palm against his beard as if he were combing it, looking very pensive. "The worst part of all of it was having to see you over and over at the compound, day in and day out. I remember having talked about it to Sam and Steve, but they weren't much help. I remember them saying something about whatever is meant to be will be." You thought about the last sentence, noticing how Sam and Steve weren't technically wrong. And it looks like he had the same exact thought because suddenly he paused the hand motion on his beard.

You gave him a small, sad smile.

He nodded slowly. “And honestly? I’m tired of pretending I don’t want more. Tired of pretending that night didn’t change things.”

You leaned back again, heart hammering against your ribs—not from nerves, but from relief. Because finally, finally, you both weren’t dancing around it anymore.

You didn’t answer right away.

Mostly because your brain had short-circuited.

“Now I’m stuck. And I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

Those words echoed in your head, bounced off the soft wood of the gazebo. You could feel the warmth of him beside you — the steadiness of his breathing, the calm strength radiating off of him like a space heater.

You swallowed, eyes flicking away briefly before glancing back at him with a half-smirk. “Okay,” you whispered, more to test the word on your tongue than anything else. “That was good. I’ll give you that. Kind of hard to top ‘I’m stuck and I don’t wanna go anywhere.’”

Bucky’s lips tugged into a grin. “Damn. Should’ve saved it for a more dramatic moment. Like mid-battle. Or during a heist.”

“Or on a rooftop in the rain,” you offered.

He laughed again — that rare, low, real laugh that always made your chest tighten just a little. “I’ll keep it in my pocket for the next dramatic rooftop situation.”

You hummed, leaning back on your elbows and staring at the sky. The stars above were faint with the glow of the compound lights, but still there — quiet, unmoving.

It wasn’t loud between you.

Just… comfortable.

Safe.

You could hear the gears in Buckys head turning and shifting, you could tell he wanted to say something by the way his eyes flickered all over the garden. “You know…” Bucky broke the silence, his voice low, “I’ve been trying not to bring it up, that night. Figured I’d just mess things up if I did.”

You turned to glance at him, head tilted, “Why? Because of the whole ‘teammates with benefits’ taboo?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “More like… I didn’t want you to think it was just about the sex." He paused as if gaining the confidence to say this next thing. "But... you remember how I touched you that night, right?” Bucky’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. He had turned to look at you, you could tell out of the corner of your eye.

You froze, suddenly aware of how close he was, of how the way the space between you felt so much tighter than it did minutes ago. You swallowed, your voice coming out a little shaky "You've really got to ask?” you chuckle trying to relieve some of the tension.

Bucky chuckled softly, snaking a hand up your thigh, just high enough to curl a finger on the bottom of the towel. “I don't know, Doll. I think about it a lot, actually. How responsive you were to my touch, how soft you felt under my hands.” As he spoke, his gaze flicked between his hand fidgeting with the towel and your eyes. That damn smirk, he really knew how to get under your skin.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice a little quieter. “I remember.”

He shuffled closer to you, and you could feel his breath against your neck, hot and shaky.  “Yeah?” You felt his hand move to the back of your neck, steady, turning your head to make you look at him. “Tell me about it, Doll.” 

Your brain turned to mush, thoughts scrambled and unable to form a coherent answer for him. You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, though, the memories of that night plagued your dreams every other night, making it impossible to forget how he sounded moaning your name, and the way the lightest of his touch made you come undone in ways you hadn’t experienced before or after him.

“I mean it's hard to forget, Barnes. Cumming 6 times in one night is kinda hard to compete with.” You answer truthfully, still relying on the drinks from earlier to loosen your tongue, although the effect had almost run its course.

Bucky looked at you in disbelief, either because of how crude you may have sounded or the confession that no one had ever been as good as him. “So you’re telling me that excuse of a man never left you craving more?” You couldn’t wipe the grin away from his face if you tried. “Geez, Doll, I mean I do feel bad for you. That’s probably the worst thing you’ve told me about him.” You couldn’t help but join him, laughing lightly at how bad it actually was.

“Well, he had enough trouble with making me come even once, if I didn’t fall asleep in the process; so asking him for more was the same as asking him to challenge Thor to a duel with nothing but a stick.” You felt at ease, so admitting this didn’t make you feel as miserable as it should’ve.

As the two of you laughed at your own banter, reveling in the ease of the moment, your eyes—traitorous as ever—flicked down to his lap. You’d really been trying not to look. Honestly. But the second he started talking like that, he made it ten times harder to keep your gaze in check.

The towel slung low over his hips wasn’t helping either. It clung to him in all the wrong ways—or right ways, depending on your self-control—and sat dangerously low on his pelvis, practically inviting your eyes to explore further. Even in the low light of the night, you could make out the sharp V of his hips, carved into his skin like some unfairly sculpted masterpiece.

And in the quiet stillness of it all, with him leaned back against the lounger, arms lazily draped along the top like he owned the whole damn night, looking at you through his lashes as if expecting your next move—his chest rising and falling in just a bit too much of a rhythm to pass for calm. 

When you kept scanning him, you caught it—the unmistakable bulge under the towel, the fabric doing absolutely nothing to cover it. You didn't mean to look that long, but… Has he always been that big? Although when you think about it, it makes sense. You could see the bulge resting to the left of his thigh, following the very base of his V line. Thick and daunting. And just as if to make it all the harder for you, resting under the two layers of fabric, you saw his cock twitch. It wasn't subtle or indistinct; it jerked completely unembarrassed and shameless. Obviously done on purpose after noticing you staring.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer, Doll." He chuckles, tilting his head forward." You barely had time to recover before he leaned in a little closer, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Unless... you want me to take the towel off,” he added, voice dropping an octave, slow and deliberate. “In that case, you won’t need a picture at all.”

You wanted to come up with something witty and funny, but all that came out of you was a meek nod. He was so dangerous.

"Yeah? And here I thought you were holding it together so well. Took one question and all that snark flew right out the window, huh?” He tilted his head with mock sympathy just after caressing your chin in an act of compassion.

Rolling your eyes at him, you stand up, containing a laugh, "You know I can just stand up and go back to bed, right?" but before you can even stabilize yourself on the ground, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you to sit so impossibly close to him.

"No, come on! Why would you do that when we were just starting to have fun, baby?" He says, a breath away from your face, scanning it and flicking his eyes all over your features, "Come here, Doll. I'll even let you do the honors, how about that? Does that sound okay?" He takes your hand —the same exact one he had pulled you down by earlier— and places it ever so lightly on his uncovered thigh, just below the edge of the towel. As if guiding you, he makes you caress the inside of his thighs while looking into your eyes with some unreadable, unblushing expression. Still holding onto your hand, he starts leading it upwards, making you feel your way above into the fabric of the towel, stopping just at the very beginning of his anterior thigh.

"Do you still need guidance for this?" he begins and chuckles. "Should I keep holding your hand all the way through it?" he says with a condescending tone, tilting his head with a little pout.

“You— God, no. Bucky, I don’t need your assistance. Calm down before I get up and leave before we even start.” Almost as if he had taken that seriously, he jumped a bit and looked at you from the corner of his eye, as if shooting a threat. “But don't worry, I won't do that to you. I'm not that evil.” Relishing your newfound confidence, you decide to take his advice and 'do the honors' as he said.

You change position right beside him in the lounge chair, your knees meeting the cushion under you. You look at him with hooded eyes, and he takes his hand off of yours, now pressing both of his hands to his sides. You reach the twist on the towel on the very far end of his hip and untie it, slowly but surely, making sure to let yourself enjoy the moment. You unfold the fabric once and then twice, being met once again with Buckys ducky boxers. You snort, shaking your head.

“Still can’t believe you own those,” you mutter, amused and almost fond.

Bucky catches your reaction and smirks, clearly amused by your disbelief. “What? You don’t like my fashion sense, Doll?” he teases, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know these are a limited edition. Real collector’s item.”

You ignore his comment, already feeling a coil in your stomach. There it was, still hidden by the fabric of his boxers, but there nonetheless. Even immersed in the darkness of the garden, you could see the dark spot, already wet from precum, just over his cock's head. The thought of him being needy enough to leave such a spot on his boxers without even being touched sent electric shocks to your very core. He had to have been thinking outright disgusting things all throughout the conversation to have been this hard already. You snapped out of your thoughts and leaned in, pressing soft pecks all over the length of his concealed cock.

"Fuck-" He muttered from above you, starting to take shaky breaths, sounding more desperate every passing second. You could feel his cock twitching against your lips in response to your every move and kiss.

“Oh- you think you’re real slick, huh?” he murmurs, voice dropping. “Teasin’ me like that, then acting all innocent? Keep pokin' me, sweetheart — just remember, I bite back.” He says, eyebrows furrowed into high heaven.

"Sure..."

Kiss...

"I'd really like to see you try, old man."

Kiss...

"Alright, that's enough.” He says, voice worryingly stern, grabbing you by the hair at the back of your head, interrupting you mid-kiss. “Keep callin’ me that, doll. See where it gets you.” As he held your head still, forcing you to stay in place, he swiftly shoved his thumb under the hem of his boxers and pulled them down completely uninterrupted. Now inches away from your face was his cock, bouncing from the motion, tapping you for a brief second on the nose. It was some sort of shade of coral pink, completely flushed and desperate, a clear difference to the skin on the rest of his body. Your eyes snapped from his shit-eating grin to his tip, still indecently dripping precum.

“What’s the matter?” he teases, voice low and smug. The hand that was once holding his boxers down snakes its way to the base of his cock, guiding it to tap against your lips. "Stick it out," He adds, tone stern like an order. As you pull your tongue out, expectant, he begins drawing slow, unhurried circles against the flat of it, “Cat got your tongue? Or did I finally find the off switch?” You look deeply into his eyes for a second, feeling the almost imperceptible salty taste on your tongue.

You pull away for a second, “You didn’t shut me up — I was just being generous. Letting the elderly speak, and all that. Although if shutting me up is what you want, there are a few ways to achieve that." All the while you were speaking, you could see Bucky looking at you mindfully, albeit you were still somehow unsure if he was listening to a word you were saying. Somewhere mid-sentence, he started shamelessly stroking himself, spitting into his hand, and moaning into it as he did, mere inches away from your face. You were so close you could hear the squelch of his hand against his shaft, so close you could smell his musky scent.

"Is that- Is that so?" He asks, clearly struggling to keep composure as he keeps working himself. Up and down. Up and down. "Oh yes, Sergeant Barnes. There is one way," As you finish saying this, you replace his hand with yours, continuing his exact motions. You make sure to stroke him, keeping a specific pace. The second you placed your hands back on his cock you fet how utterly wet he had achieved to be after spitting on himself. Looking back again into his eyes, you start to give him small kitten licks, watching him react almost instantly with a whimper.

“C’mon… stop bein’ mean. I’ve been good. Haven’t I been good?” And just as if you were agreeing or taking pity on him, one of the two, you took him into your mouth, slowly inching him to the back of your throat. The second you did, he let out a groan, not just any groan, one brimming with pure want, absolutely primitive.

"Fuuck..." He rasped, letting his head fall back and rest on the cushions on the head of the backrest. That was the encouragement you needed. After hearing him, you began to work yourself upwards on his shaft, keeping his cock still engulfed on your mouth, making sure to shelter all of your front teeth with your lips —we don't want any accidents here...

You continued doing the same exact thing, working your mouth and lips up and down his cock, hearing him gasp and sucking in ragged breaths from above you. At some point, he held the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair, and forcing you to look up at him. He looked so genuinely fucked out, lips parted into the shape of an 'o', brows furred and pupils dilated. As he looked at you, you took your mouth off of him and spat all the pent-up spit right on his tip, letting it drip in all directions. As you did, he watched you attentively, somehow looking even more needy than before. Blinking back at him innocently, you start stroking him once again, this time faster, trying to keep up with the pace your mouth had before.

“This isn’t fair," He whines, letting out a high-pitched noise in his throat. "You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, baby. No one else has ever had me like this,” He whimpers at you, making his grip on your hair even tighter.

"Yeah? That's alright, cause either way I'm not willing to let anyone see you like this ever again." To make your point be heard, you sped up your pace, not stopping for a second to look at anything else but his eyes. He, on the other hand, was seemingly tearing up. You could see his glassy sky blue eyes shining under the garden fairy lights.

Then all of a sudden, Bucky's head jerked backwards, eyes wide open. "Can’t take much more of this, baby…" You knew exactly what he meant, but there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to hear him say it. So you stroke him even faster, knowing exactly what was gonna happen. "Much more of what, Buck?" You blink up at him, taking the opportunity to use your tongue and play with the slit of his tip.

"Doll- You know what I meant. I'm gonna-" He grabs onto the cushions next to him, throwing his head back forwards to face you, now with a completely different expression. His mouth had fallen even more agape and his eyes were screwed shut.

"Yeah? gonna what?" You tease back at him, taking him back into your mouth. Something which apparently turned out to be his last straw, cause his legs tensed up under your forearms and his hips began to jolt forward. "Fuck baby, gonna- Im gonna cum-" He made you take him all the way with the hand he was still holding your head with, pushing you all the way down and making your nose bump against his pubic bone. You felt his tip touch the very back of your throat as he kept jerking his hips forward. He kept you like this for what felt like ages. He manually made you suck him off, each time making you gag from the force he was applying on you. "Doing so good, Doll. Oh- Oh my god?" You gagged on him, involuntarily letting spit drip all over him. He loved seeing you like this, teary-eyed and red in the face. At this point he didn't need to throat fuck you, he just wanted to hear the little noises you made a little longer, and as cynic as this sounds, he wanted to hear you gag.

It wasn’t long before you tasted it, that salty and strong taste relentlessly hitting the back of your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow it. You gladly did, passing your tongue over his cock, not wanting to miss a drop. He was writhing away, the sensation too much at once yet you wouldn’t let go that easily.

He had to pull you back by your hair, not harsh but quickly enough that it almost gave you whiplash. “God, darlin’, you gonna suck me dry on the first night?” He managed to get out between pants, as his legs were still twitching unconsciously from the aftermath. 

You only grinned in response, rising to his face and kissing him immediately, a primal hunger overcoming both of you once again. “Would that be so bad?” You giggle between kisses.

“You’re so mean, Doll,” He said softly as he pulled you into his lap, pressing you to him as much as physics allowed him to. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“Is that a complaint I hear, Sergeant?” Your words were muffled by his lips, still refusing to pull away just for a second. He didn’t answer, putting one arm around you, engulfing you completely while the other went under your thigh as he stood up. 

That only lasted a couple seconds though, because soon enough he was laying you down on the other end of the lounge sofa, soft cushions supporting your upper half. “For you? Never,” He pulled away, hovering over you. “Just wanna make this last as long as possible.”

He positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you with blown-out pupils, his left hand completely holding him up as his right hand traced the outline of your body. The kisses became hungry again, like the air out of each other's lungs was your only life source. The fire between you growing rapidly, wild and untamable. 

His hand trailed down, leaving you hot and begging for more wherever he touched. He grabbed the back of your thigh, going up where skin meets fabric. He groaned, and you felt him getting hard again, clearly the work of his superserum. He moved his hand again, pressing down just above your clothed cunt. With a thumb, he began to tease you. He ran it all along your slit, stopping just a moment to draw achingly slow circles on your clit. The sudden pressure had you whimpering, begging him to stop teasing; yet he paid you no mind, moving as if he had all the time in the world to undo your towel and remove your panties.

He stopped and stared at you, taking you in, eyes glossy and wondering as if had seen the light at the end of the tunnel. He stayed there staring directly into your pussy for a second, you were sure you almost sawy his mouth watering. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” You teased him,  knowingly smirking at the reactions you were pulling from him.

“No need,” He started as he leaned down and kissed your neck, getting closer to your ear. “I’ll have you like this every night for the rest of our lives.” The confession that he was planning to never let you go, and his hot breath combined with his open mouthed kisses at your neck had you moaning louder than intended. 

“Is that a promise, Barnes?” You said breathless, all composure you thought you had left had been thrown out the window a long while ago.

“Get me a bible and I’ll swear on it, sweetheart.” He went back to kissing you, making his way down your chest as his fingers danced along your inner thigh, itching closer but still not close enough to where you needed him most.

“Fuck, Bucky, stop teasing,” You pleaded, getting annoyed by the growing anticipation. 

“Patience, Doll, we have all night” He muttered, clearly forgetting that you, in fact did not, and that you had to be all packed and ready, cruising the ocean in about 5 hours. And before you could remind him yourself, ever so responsible, you felt his fingers slithering from your inner thigh, inevitably sliding along your slit, collecting all the wetness that had pooled there and spreading it around. 

"So wet..." He says almost with disbelief, a tinge of surprise to his words "Did sucking my cock really get you this wet, angel?" You could only gasp, all thoughts interrupted and words caught in your throat. You felt him smirk against your skin, before sucking your nipple into his mouth. “Yeah? That feel good, Doll? Would’ve been so very mean of me to not repay you after the stunt you pulled back there”

He didn’t stay there for long, getting close to your face, purposefully making his lips hover right above yours. Before you could complain, two of his fingers entered you swiftly, making you gasp and arch your back involuntarily. Unlike you, his pace was fast and deliberate, as if watching you squirm was his one and only mission. All the while he hammered his fingers into you, palm of his hand slapping against your clit, he was glaring at you menacingly. “Fuck…” You whispered, all you managed to get out.

“Yeah? What’s that, Doll?” Getting closer to your face and pressing kisses all around the corner of your mouth, as if framing your face. His smirk only grew wider as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slightly curling them before almost taking them out completely, and entering them again. “Did Mark ever do this for you? Hm? Fingering you until you were a sticky mess? Tell me, please, tell me-” He pulled away from your face, not once pulling out his fingers. He shimmied his way down your torso, stopping just above your pelvis, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. He licked and mouthed words of reassurance to the inside of your thighs, so irritatingly close to where you actually wanted him.

“No! He never did, never…” You managed to spit out. You wanted to beat him with a stick, the sly bastard knew the effect he had on you and you hated how cocky and insufferable it made him. The problem was that your thoughts were completely wiped from your brain and you couldn’t form a single coherent sentence other than the meek pleas and whimpers escaping your lips with every thrust of his hands. The moment you said that, as if to reward you for being so honest, he pressed his mouth to your clit, instantly feeling like he's air sealing it. He flicked his tongue notably quick, if you hadn't been completely overtaken by pleasure, you probably would've been surprised by his speed.

“You look gorgeous, darling, letting yourself go so easily.” He mouthed into your cunt, inaudible. You could hear the vulgar wet slapping of his tongue, and the filthy squelch of him licking you into his mouth.

That’s when he picked up the pace, holding on to the roots of his hair, steering his face closer into you, “Oh my God…” You really tried being as quiet as possible, knowing the compound was full of trained agents and spies who were always alert, even during their sleep. That proved to be impossible as he smirked and looked into your eyes, reveling in the way he made you feel and how tight you were.

You had to ground yourself somehow, so you gripped his forearm, guiding his hand as deep as he could. That familiar coil started to form in the pit of your stomach, making him grin even wider against you. “Thaaat’s it, Doll. God, you’re doin’ so well for me.” Bucky, looking for your pleasure, pulled out his tongue and began shaking his head from side to side.

That’s all it took for the coil to snap, strong, intense and completely blindsiding you. His movements gradually slowed down as he kissed his way up your neck, going up to your cheek and lastly on your forehead. “So pretty, y’know that? Did so well for me. Prettiest girl ever...” He laid with you for a minute there, basking in your presence and feeling the motion of your chest as you breathed. He pressed kisses to your nose, forehead and side of your jaw, making sure to not miss a single spot. You could only smile back at him when you noticed that all through pecking your face he was quietly chuckling against your skin. “I really do like you, you know that? This was unbelievable, don't get me wrong, but I really need you to know that you are so much more than just this” 

Damn it. He really makes it so incredibly hard not to love him.

“I know… I know Bucky, you are so much more than just mind blowing sex to me too”  You both can't help but giggle at your comment. “You were right, you know? You and me… were always gonna happen.” You continue. He looks at you almost in disbelief. You don't know how long he's been meaning to hear that from you. “Don't worry, angel. I'll make sure that we do. Always” Just as he finished his sentence, he collapsed his body onto  yours, crashing both of your lips together. He was hungry, desperate, almost primitive with the ways he kissed you. You couldn't help but wonder the reason as to why Bucky was so pent up. Had he hooked up with any women after you? Had he been waiting for you this whole time?  The thought must’ve been clearly eating at your brain, because at some point you weren't able to contain yourself and you let the question fly. 

“Buck- Wait…” You tried to begin but he kept stealing kisses from you, just as starved as before “Buck, did you ever fuck anyone after me? Just pure curiosity” You pulled him away from your lips to look into his eyes, but he only stayed there for a second. He went back to biting and licking your lips the way only a famished man knew how to. “No..” He muttered into your lips, not pulling away for a fraction of a second. “How- How could i? The second I got a taste of you I couldn't erase it from my lips” He said, grabbing onto the back of your neck to pull you into his mouth even harder, his words coming out almost indistinguishable against the wetness of both of your mouths. “I tried for a while y’know? Tried to find other women attractive, even Sam helped for a while. But I just couldn't, Doll. You're the only one who knows how to work me” He finally finishes the sentence with a quiet groan. To some extent, you felt pity for him. He deserved to have been happy. But to be honest, you were more glad than anything, cause then it wouldn't have led you both to this.

As you kept kissing him you couldn't help but to look down towards his painfully hard cock. You had started feeling it a few moments back, rubbing against your belly, swinging and slapping against you with his every move. You reach down to grab it. 

“Already?” you ask, commenting about his hard on. “What can I say? That super serum works wonders” He replies with snark. Holding himself up by his hands – which were laying to both of your sides– he began to look towards your hand  as you worked it up and down. “Is that so? How about we test that out, soldier?” You shot your eyes open in faux surprise.

He laughed, finally looking back up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we do?” His smile disappeared from his face instantly after he said this, making his expression one of concentration rather than anything else. He grabbed the base of his cock swiftly with one hand, keeping himself upright with his other arm, and with one languid motion he pressed the length of it to your cunt. He slapped it against you, looking at you with some sort of expression that whispered ‘and what are you gonna do about it?’ 

“Do you want this?” he whispers in your ear looking back down towards his hand, watching himself sliding his cock against the length of your slit. You can only moan back at him “Now’s really not the time to ask, Buck” He scoffs at your desperation and with one harsh motion he pounds his hips into you. You let out a guttural sound, forgetting completely that everyone else was asleep and if you were heard you could be both found here, laying naked. Bucky’s pace began to pick up, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where you too were meeting, you couldn’t look away from such a sight. 

Bucky leveled himself out and straightened his back, now grabbing you by your thighs instead of being propped up by his arms like he was earlier. You grabbed onto the cushions behind you as your eyes began to screw shut, feeling so completely overpowered by the feeling of him inside you. He hadn’t looked away from your cunt for one single second. He watched you swallow his cock easily with disbelief, shaking his head from side to side. 

“Fuck, missed this pussy so much. Feels so good…”  He grabbed you by the neck as he pushed you up to make you touch foreheads. 

“God, i missed you too Buck”  you close your eyes, trying to ignore the coil in your stomach. Bucky then tightens his grip on the back of your head and pulls you a few inches back, looking directly into your eyes crudely barefaced. 

“Hm? I bet. That deadbeat couldn’t make my baby cum, could he?” He whispered into your face, his voice cracking and shaking after every thrust into you.  

And as if to prove himself something, he let go of your neck gently, letting you fall into the cushions behind you. He grabbed you by the back of your knees and harshly pulled them to your shoulders, bending you in a way that only seemed vulgar. You —insecure and maybe a little ashamed of the position he had twisted you into—grab a pillow from beside your head and cover your face. As soon as he noticed you had done this, you felt the cushion being ripped from your face as he sent it flying into the darkness of the garden. 

“Uh uh” he tuts at you, giving you a few taps on the cheek “I wanna see your face when you cum, baby. I want you to see me fucking into you. Can’t have your pretty face covered up, can we?” He taunts with a face of very obvious sarcastic disappointment. You couldn’t do anything but nod at him; all the snark you had in you before had left you along with your ability to speak words.

Bucky, still as desperate as ever, began to thrust his hips even faster. You were able to hear and feel the wetness between your legs, although very sure it wasn’t completely your doing. You looked down, trying to understand Bucky's fixation. As soon as you did you saw him ramming himself into you, his cock slick and shiny under the glow of the fairy lights.

“Y’like the view?”He smirked down at you, eyes dark with want. The room seemed to blur around you as your bodies moved in tandem, hips meeting in a desperate rhythm, each thrust pulling you both deeper into the frenzy. The air was thick with heat, every breath shared, every sound echoing in your ears.

Bucky was grunting now — raw, guttural — like a man undone, clinging to control by a thread. One of his hands cradled your face, holding you close, his gaze locked on yours as if he didn’t want to miss a single flicker of pleasure in your expression.

The pressure inside you coiled tighter with every movement, building to something you couldn’t outrun. You were burning up — flushed, breathless, slick with sweat. Every sensation hit at once, crashing into you like a wave: the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, the sounds falling from his lips.

It was too much — too good — and not nearly enough all at once.

“M’ gonna cum, Bucky” You barely managed to get the words out — a breathless whisper, trembling on your lips. Bucky didn’t respond right away. He just nodded, eyes heavy with heat, his jaw slack like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The tension in him was palpable. You clung to his bicep with one hand, the other clawing at the muscles of his back, searching for something to ground you through the storm inside you.

Every nerve ending was on fire — like always, like only with him.

“You’re gonna drive me outta my damn mind,” he whimpered, his voice breaking as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His hips never faltered, moving with a determined rhythm that pushed you both closer to the edge.

“I’m so close, Doll. Just let go,” he panted against your skin. “I’m not askin’ for much — just that.”

And just like that, it hit you both — like lightning through the spine. A chorus of tangled moans filled the air as the wave crested, pulling you under together. Bucky wrapped his arms tight around you, chest pressed flush to yours as if afraid you'd slip away. You felt the frantic pounding of his heart, the sweat and heat clinging between you.

That blinding rush hadn’t even fully passed, but it still pulsed through your limbs, keeping you shivering beneath him. And Bucky — breathless, trembling — stayed there, arms locked around your body like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The world felt suspended for a moment — like time had bent to give you this small pocket of quiet, right here in each other’s arms.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath Bucky’s as he lay half-draped over you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, lips brushing your skin with each steadying breath. The sweat-slick warmth of his body was comforting rather than suffocating now, the burn of passion replaced by a slow, grounding calm.

Neither of you said anything at first. There was no need. He simply let out a soft sigh, the sound almost content, and then shifted slightly to cradle you better — his metal arm slipping under your back, warm from your shared heat, pulling you in. His other hand ran gently down your side, fingers tracing soft shapes on your hip as if to remind himself you were really there.

"You okay, Doll?" he finally murmured, voice rough around the edges, but tender. His nose nudged against your cheek as he looked down at you, eyes softer now. "Did I hurt you at all?"

You shook your head, offering him a lazy, hazy smile. “Not even close. That was... incredible.”

He chuckled quietly, that low, affectionate sound that made your chest flutter more than anything else. “Yeah,” he whispered, brushing some damp hair away from your face, “you just about killed me.”

You laughed, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead — slow, deliberate, like it meant something more than the ones before it. It did.

After a moment, he leaned back just enough to reach for a throw blanket at the end of the lounger, draping it over both of you with surprising care. You curled into his side instinctively, your leg tangling with his, hand resting against his chest — right over the heartbeat that hadn’t yet settled down.

“We gotta be up in, like… four hours,” he muttered, his forehead thunking lightly against your shoulder. “Stark’s stupid yacht leaves at sunrise. Something about ‘golden hour content’ and 'champagne breakfast'."

You groaned too, your voice muffled into his chest. “Ugh. If he plays that ‘I’m on a Boat’ song one more time, I’m throwing myself overboard.”

Bucky snorted. “I’ll jump with you. We'll go down together like Jack and Rose.”

“I get the door this time.”

“Deal.”

A sleepy silence settled again, his hand absentmindedly brushing up and down your back. Then, just as your eyes started to drift shut, he whispered, a quiet grin in his voice, “Y’know… if someone told me a year ago I’d end up half-naked, wrapped around you like this, under the stars, after sneaking into a pool party... I’d say they were full of shit.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, nuzzling into his warmth. “Yeah,” you murmured, “but I think I always hoped you would.”

And in the stillness of the night, with only your shared heartbeat and the far-off sound of waves crashing in the distance, Bucky held you a little tighter — as if, finally, he understood what it meant to be home.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 03/10/2024 Daniel Ricciardo- Hate Sex

Plot: You and Daniel get into a massive argument when he comes home after a race in a pissy mood for the 3rd time in a row.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, eating out, oral (f-receiving), arguments between reader and Daniel, hate sex etc 18+ Minors DNI

The first time, it was a DNF where he’d collided on track in a fight for 3rd place with Perez. He’d come home, ignored you and the meal you’d cooked for him, got changed and went straight back out. You guys didn’t talk until the next morning, where things were a little tense until he cracked a joke and all was forgiven.

After that race you came with him and it was one of his best races, he was so happy and cheerful celebrating with you and all his friends at a points finish and with the podium sitters of the day. It was very fun.

The second time, it was the team giving him wrong orders and ending up with a cooling issue on the car that set him all the way back in 18th place. This time he didn’t even bother coming home and went out with Lando and Max for a week before coming back and acting like everything was okay. Of course you were a little hurt, but decided against bringing it up to him as you guys were okay!

The third time and it was a rookie mistake on his part, he went into a corner car to quick and didn’t break quick enough meaning his car was in the wall and his race was over.

He come home instantly this time, getting into Max’s jet with him on the Sunday straight after the race and ending up home at a decent hour.

He came stomping in through the door, his suitcase hauled through and left in the entrance way as he started to walk straight past you. You step in his way managing to stop him now that he was in your line of vision.

“Mmmmm yeah no way, not happening” you say to him crossing your arms.

“Please get out of my way” he says looking over you with an unimpressed look as to why you were actively stoping him from getting to your guys room.

“No Daniel, I’m sick of this! Everytime you have a shit race for whatever reason you become … I dunno Elsa or some shit. I’m sick of you running out on me when you can’t man up and fucking talk to me about this and think it’s better to run away, making me feel like ass and then come back the next day and act like nothing is wrong. It’s exhausting and I’m not doing this again. So we’re talking right here right now” you say pointing to the floor with your hands that had helped you embellish your points as you were speaking.

“That’s what you think this all is?” He asks his head cocking to the side, frustration still evident on his face but with who or what you are none the wiser.

“Well it’s fucking clear it is. When I have a bad day at work, you’re quite literally the first and only person I want to interact with. I get being angry but I can’t keep going on like this if you keep having bad races!” You explain trying to remain calm.

“Are you saying I’m not going to improve? Maybe this is why I don’t come to you, because you could never ever understand something as complex as Formula One and how much pressure there is from the team and other drivers. You could never understand what I deal with every day” he shouts at you an angry look in his face.

“You know what, maybe I don’t. But I won’t because you never seem to talk to me anymore. It’s so frustrating Daniel because I’m trying to be there for you but you won’t let me!” You shouts back, tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

“Maybe I don’t want you too! Maybe I’m so sick of your constant nagging and preening seeing if I’m okay and shit and maybe just maybe I don’t want that” he says, his face like thunder. Your eyes are so wet that you actually cannot see the instant look of regret on his face as he says that.

To you that was like he’d basically just said he no longer loved you. Daniel was the centre of your world and it revolved around him, Daniel was your everything and for him not to appreciate all you do for him and reciprocate those feeling was hurtful.

“I hate you so much right now” you cry turning away and running up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Daniel follows storming after you, he pushes you against the wall, anger evident on his face.

“Don’t walk away from me, and don’t fucking say that” he says almost glaring at you.

“Well, I wouldn’t lie to you. You’ve exhausted me these last few weeks and I cannot do it anymore” you cry looking at him with a frown, your brows furrowing in disgust.

You both just stare at each other for a little until Daniel leans forward and kisses you roughly. You are shocked for a second trying to push him away but his arms encase you against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go.

You guys eventually go into an intense make out session. Daniels tongue exploiting every cavern of your mouth while all you can do is lean your head against the wall and let him.

As much as you were irritated with him right now, and hated how he was acting, you couldn’t deny that you’d missed his close contact and the intimacy.

“I still hate you” you say looking at him with a fierce look in his eyes, almost like a challenge to see just how far he would go. And without a word he lifts you up chucking you into the bed. He crawls up to you, spreading your legs open, pulling your shorts and panties down in one and he leans down to kiss and bite your inner thighs.

A hand comes across to cover your mouth, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how good he was making you feel just from light contact on your inner thighs.

The minute he started to lick strips up your slit you were done for, his large nose bumping your clit making you squirm and a breathy gasp leaving your lips.

“You still hate me gorgeous? Because you don’t sound like you do?” He smirks diving back in and eating you out like a 5 course meal in a 3 star Michelin restaurant.

“Danny” you cry and he just laughs into your creating more incredible vibrations.

“Still hate me? I dare you to say it” he asks and there was still a petty part of you that was so upset be annoyed with him that you couldn’t even understand your own emotions right now?

Was it hate?

“Yes I do” you answered, but Daniel could here the confusion in your voice.

“Maybe I just need to fuck the hate out of you huh?” He asks coming up from your clit, his fingers dipping in making your gasp and grab his wrist making eye contact as he come up to kiss you on the lips, making you able to taste yourself in his lips.

“How does that sound? Letting me take all my frustrations out on you” he says as he speeds up his fingers inside you. He takes them out, licking them clean before pulling his own jeans and boxers down letting his dick spring free.

“Or how about I take MY frustrations out on you” you say flipping his round and straddling him. Holding him down by his shoulders.

He just smirks up at you, hands going behind his head as he relaxes with your weight on top of him.

“Gone if then baby girl. Do your worst” he says and before he can say anymore your mounting him, slipping down onto him bouncing up and down. Your hands find their way to his hair as you grip his curls and his find their way to your exposed boobs, letting them fill his hands as he starts to tweak and play with your peaked nipples.

“Fuck Dan, why’d you have to ignore me” you all but moan as you speed up and Daniel starts to thrust up to meet your bounces.

“I didn’t wanna fucking hurt you, I knew I’d say something nasty to you coz I was hacked off” he gasps out as he grips your hips, helping you bounce.

“You’re so stupid” you cry, out looking at him as you clench round him and fall into him having no more energy. Daniels thrusts become sloppy and he eventually slows down, with one big thrust before emptying himself inside you.

“Still hate me?” He smiles as he pulls you into him for a hug, his breathing ragged as he looks down at you.

“Always” you smile, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

“Damn, we need to have more sex when your angry” he sighs, wiping the sweat away from his forehead.

“No way had my sexiness bested a high performance athlete” you laugh, looking over at him. And he can’t help but laugh too.

“Mmmmm of course you have” he answers.

“But next time, you talk to me okay? I swear I’m not doing this again Daniel” you say seriously and he rolls his eyes with a small pout.

“But your so hot and sexy when you hate me” he pouts making you shake your head laughing before lightly slapping his shoulder.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[vrystalius]

sniff sniff I SMELL AN AMAZING BLOG!1!1! I REALLY LOVE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE KEEP UP THIS AMAZING MASTERPIECE!1!1! Also can i request the first 3 uppermoons with a female reader human who likes to bite them a lot? Like imagine training and you feel a bite on your shoulder or talking and then! BOOM! reader cutely bites their nose and cheek :3

Biting the Upper Moons

How will the Upper Moons react to their human biting different areas of their body?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x reader

Biting areas included: Ear, nose, cheek, bicep, arm

Kokushibo

Ear: 3/10

To reach his ear, you first have to brush some hair away, meaning Kokushibo will be aware of your intentions. You don’t whisper into his ear out of nowhere, but you do like to bite him there. So, most of the time, he’s simply dodging your attack before you could come any closer. He’s very hyperaware of his senses, meaning he doesn’t want anything to disturb them. Especially his vision and hearing.

“Do not even try.”

Nose: 3/10

Your face rapidly approaching his might suggest a kiss at first, but your mischievous grin told a different story. Similar with ears, Kokushibo simply dodges you. If you annoy him further with attempts to bite him, he’ll threaten to bite you first, flashing his sharp teeth at you. That usually shuts you down and leave him to meditate in peace. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness, he lets you bite his nose. His whole face would scrunch up in dissatisfaction and will remain like that for the rest of the day.

“Why are you so insistent of biting me? Did you have issues during childhood?”

Cheek: 4/10

He barely has any cheeks to bite onto, so you’ll resolve to biting his chin. Again, Kokushibo mistakes you leaning in for you wanting a simple kiss, so he obliged and parts his lips slightly in anticipation. He truly is too trusting with you, he learned that the moment you bit his chin and then scrambled away to hide. He didn’t bother to chase you, it was his fault that he’s letting his guard down like that. Perhaps he’s too lenient and loving with you.

“How foolish of me to think that you, my spouse, wanted affection from me.” (Is he even capable of sarcasm? Everything he says sounds to serious.)

Bicep: 8/10

Feeling you bite his bicep makes him feel oddly proud of his muscles. Is this your way of complimenting his body? Or a way to seduce him? Because weirdly enough, Kokushibo gets aroused when you bite him there. It reminds him of other moments where you desperately hold onto his bicep and shoulders and the way your face contorted into pure ecstasy. Perhaps you biting his bicep like that is your way to invite him into your bedroom? He’ll have to ask you why exactly you chose to bite his bicep out of all places.

“Are you trying to court me, dear? Just say the word and I’m yours tonight.”

Arm: 6/10

You biting his arm randomly during certain tasks amuses him slightly. It’s kind of fascinating to him why you are doing this. Do you crave his attention this badly? Once your teeth sink into his skin, his muscles would tense and Kokushibo might pull you around a little, like how someone would do with a puppy or energetic toddler. But do not expect him to look enthusiastic. His face will remain stone cold while playing tug-war with you. You have to be beware of how easily he gets fed up with the games though.

“Release my arm. Now.”

Douma

Ear: 6/10

It’s amusing to him how you continue to find ways to catch his attention. If Douma is busy preparing for another sermon, cleaning himself off after a feeding or just simply lounging around, you come up to him and bite his ear. He giggles loudly and would try to bite you back in any way. One time, he snuck up on you. As a payback for biting his ear very harshly that day, Douma wanted to bite yours in return! You jumped very violently once he pounced onto you and bit down onto your ear. From that day on, you now have an additional earhole in your ear for even more jewrely! That was his plan all along! Totally!

“How about I bite your other ear so you have symmetrical ear holes? That way, I can get you even more earrings! Wouldn’t you like that, lotus? …No? Okay.”

Nose: 7/10

It’s so cute to him! You mostly do it when you two nuzzle your noses together affectionately when you chomp down onto his. It surprised him, yes, but it’s so so cute! You being so adorable and just biting him stirs some kind of cuteness-aggression within him. Douma would trap you in his strong and large arms, squeaking and nuzzling his face against you. He’ll probably bite you in all kinds of areas himself during this fit, kicking his feet and grinning brightly.

“You’re so cute! My adorable little human! I could just eat you right up!! Lemme have a taste, hm? May I?”

Cheek: 5/10

Out of all the ways you bit him before, cheek bites are his least favourite. Not that Douma hates it, he just prefers to be bitten in other ways. Cheek bites remind him of cheek pulling, wich reminds him of a way a mother would scold her child. No mother ever bit her child’s cheek as a form of punishment (as far as Douma is aware of), but just feels like it. Gentle nibbles make him grin and pepper your face in kisses, but a whole bite and pull makes him whine loudly. He’d rather not get them.

“Mhh, don’t do that! Ouch… Give me a kiss on the cheek instead!”

Bicep: 8/10

Douma grins at your antics again, but this time, his smile is much more darker. You really are a brave one, aren’t you? Did you forget that he is still a demon? He only lets you bite him because you stir such strong emotions inside of him. Oh if only he can bite you back and taste your flesh on his tongue… You must taste like a heavenly feast, your blood rivalling those of marechi in taste and sacredness. Perhaps if Douma asks nicely you’ll let him try a droplet your blood. But for now, he’ll let you bite his bicep as you please. You look cute while doing it and he can barely feel it tickle, so why not?

“Dear Lotus, how about a little deal? I’ll let you bite down as hard as you like in exchange for a teeny tiny droplet of your blood?”

Arm: 7/10

Aren’t you just adorable! Douma’ll let you bite his arm and maybe even pull some flesh out if you like, as long as you’re enjoying yourself. He likes watching you entertain yourself like this with his body, it’s a great opportunity to observe some human emotions on your face. Seeing you so happy and excited about something simple like biting down onto his arm makes him wonder if you want to bite other areas in his body as well. Douma wonders if you’ll have different reactions to different firmness or taste of his skin. For example, will you bite him more often if he rubs some sugar onto his skin? Or how will you react if you bite his flexed thigh? Oh the opportunities! He might have to write down a list of reactions and behaviours he wants to test out on you!

“Lotus, how about you bite my chest? I can flex them a little and- hm? No, it’s one of my kinks, I’m just curious about something!… No, not like that! My, what a filthy mind you have.”

Akaza

Ear: 1/10

It sounds weird to him when you nibble his ear. It makes his whole body shiver, and not in a very good way. Akaza will side eye you in slight disgust whenever you even attempt to bite his earlobe. Playing it off and feigning innocence doesn’t help either and he’ll avoid you for the rest of the day/night. He doesn’t want to risk you even thinking about it.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Nose: 3/10

Nibbling his nose makes his whole face scrunch up in uncomfortableness. It tickles when you bite his nose and Akaza doesn’t like the way it makes him feel childish. He hates being tickled overall and almost always fights back as gently as he could against your tickle-assault, but you only biting his nose and immediately backing off feels like some kind of way to cheese his reaction. You get to see how his face scrunches together and how much he hates being tickled while also not feeling or seeing the consequences of doing so. Biting and running off is too fast for Akaza to process immediately since he almost always lets his guard down around you to show how much he trusts you. Yet, you prove to him how untrustworthy you truly are, you minx.

“Come back! You don’t get away with this again!”

Cheek: 6/10

Tolerates it at best, pushed you away at worst. Akaza doesn’t really mind you nibbling onto his cheek, as long as you don’t disturb him during something. He’ll actually welcome it when you two are cuddling, for example. He’ll even grin a little at your adorableness when you do, but if you draw his attention away from his training just to nibble against his cheek, Akaza will glare at you. Also, he doesn’t like to admit it, but he also likes to nibble a little on your cheek as well. Especially when Akaza is cuddling you and you blush. Your cheeks are very warm and nice to bite onto!

“Can we do that later? I’m busy right now.”

Bicep: 8/10

Akaza would also feel very prideful when you bite down onto his bicep. He doesn’t want to appear weak in front of you, so he’ll try to figure out when you’re planning to bite him. That way, he’ll flex his whole arm as a way of showing off. But also, that way, you started biting him more less. It’s not so nice to chew onto a boulder-like muscle, so you preferred softer areas in his body (like his cheek). But Akaza wanted you to bite his bicep! He wants you to feel how strong and powerful he is! So, he started offering his not-flexed bicep to bite onto. Now, it’s one of your favourite areas to nibble!

“You’re a really odd one. I chose the weirdest human to love.”

Arm: 7/10

Similar to his bicep, Akaza wants to flex his forearm in order to demonstrate how powerful he is! But after noticing how you preferred softer areas, he reluctantly offered his softened arm to you to bite down onto. Once you start biting down hard, he’ll notify you to stop immediately by flexing his muscle. It’s not like he feels any pain when you bite down as hard as you can, it just… tickles.

“Let go. Let go now. Hey! No! Let go of my damn arm!!”

💠

I am thinking about posting some sort of NSFW drabble for Douma I’ve been thinking about the oast few days… Maybe during Oktober. But anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you’ll continue to enjoy my blog!! Also, I have now written three fics that include biting in some form… does that say something about me or you guys? XD But keep requesting anything you like!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[tsukii0002]

A young adult Yuu II

Yuu is isekaied into twisted wonnderlar, but they are a "independent" adult in their 20's, college ended and who is fighting for finding a job and survive.

[Previous] [Next]

Having the vision about the queen of hearts

Yuu: *waking up all of a sudden* I think I should put down that herbal tea…..

Ace: *after almost knocking the door down* I need you to let me stay here.

Yuu: *with squinted eyes* If you wake me up again at this hour you'll stay out, I'm in an age and if I don't sleep I don't yield.

Ace: Ah! whatever, from today on I'm part of this dorm!

Yuu: I don't feel ready and I'm not old enough to have a teenager in my charge. ….

Ace: *wearing Riddle's collar*

Yuu: What weird discipline methods are used in the magical world.

Ace: This was done to me by my housewarden!!!!

Yuu: …

Yuu: What weird bullying methods you guys use in the magic world.

Ace: NO IT IS NOT!!!

Deuce and Ace discussing about Riddle

Yuu: *to Grim* I think this Riddle guy is going to be a problem child.

Grim: Technically he's our superior.

Yuu: ...

Yuu: There goes what little authority I had left….

Entering Heartslabyul dorm.

Grim: This place is incredible!

Ace: *smiling* This is much better than that dump you call a dorm.

Deuce: What do you think Yuu?

Yuu: My gosh to clean all this… so much ornamentation, what a lot of dust that has to accumulate…

Ace and Deuce: …

Yuu: And so many rosebushes, damn, how much water has to be spent on watering.

Deuce: Looks like we're all going to the same class.

Grim: I'm going to outdo all of you.

Yuu: I'm practically your legal guardian already, no one can convince me otherwise at this point.

Crewel: …

Yuu: …

Crewel: You-

Yuu: Don't say another word, I've got enough on my plate.

Crewel: Let's get together once in a while after class, it'll be good for you.

Yuu: Thank you, I could really use someone who isn't a mess of hormones.

Crewel: *putting a hand on their shoulder* My condolences.

In the cafeteria.

Yuu: The food is good!

Ace: Of course this a prestigious school!

Yuu: And it's free!

Deuce: A-are you ok?

Yuu: *almost crying* I won't have to break my head thinking about what to eat every day.

Yuu: So the students are separated into dorms according to their abilities?

Cater: That is.

Yuu: My 10 year old self is shaking.

Cater: ?

Yuu: I'm in a magical school separated by houses, suck on that reality!!!

Riddle: Rules must always be obeyed!

Yuu: *sarcastic* Yes, of course, because people in positions of power always follow the rules.

Riddle: The world works because of the rules!

Yuu: Oh my boy, what a beating you're going to get when you leave school *sighing*

In the botanical garden

Grim: Are you the gardener?

Yuu: Grim!! this kind of work is very hard, *to Leona* you must be very tired, I apologize.

Leona: Tsk, I'm a student.

Yuu: *confused* And shouldn't you be in class?

Leona: And shouldn't you be out of school and working?

Yuu: Ouch.

Trey: You're pretty good at cooking.

Yuu: Ha, ha, ha, I've been living on my own for a long time, although this sweets thing is new.

Trey: Why?

Yuu: I didn't have the time or money for that many ingredients.

Deuce: *believing that chicks can born from any egg*

Yuu: My maternal instinct is getting triggered again?

Yuu: *seeing Cater's ability* I could really use that ability, fuck magic with fire and lights, I want to do several things at the same time.

Riddle rejecting the cake

Ace: All our work!

Yuu: Ha ha, how nostalgic…. this reminds me of my first job, the exploitation….

Deuce: What ??

Yuu: *with an empty stare* Yeah, you know, all your hard work and dedication thrown away, like this cake.

Ace: *to Deuce* Are we going to become like this when we grow up ???

Deuce: React yuu!!!

Yuu: *come to their senses* How can you throw food away? I can tell you've never been hungry!

Ace: Aaaand back to "responsible" adult mode.

Trey after explaining Riddle's past

Yuu: So mommy issues? Ha, ha, welcome to the club.

Yuu: Do you think it's okay to have students fighting with magic in this way?

Crowley: It's a healthy duel.

Yuu: How can you still be the director of a place full of minors?

Yuu: Today's teenagers are scary!

Crowlwy: Not all our students are like that!!!

Yuu: Are you implying that you're scared of Riddle too?

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Today's teenagers are scary.

Yuu: Please, somebody stop him, the kid is going to get a stroke, he won't make it to 20 if he keeps going like this.

Deuce: Do something Yuu!!!

Yuu: And what do you want me to do? I haven't inherited my mother's chancla ability yet.

Riddle overblot

Yuu: This change can only mean one thing… I don't know if I'm ready for this... but as an adult I have to take care of it…

Grim: ??

Yuu: * to Riddle* I know you're going through a difficult time, it's normal, but it's also natural. We all go through these changes in our body

Ace and Deuce: That's not !!!!

Yuu: Isn't that puberty in the magical world?!?!!!!

Trey and Cater: NOOO!!!!

Yuu: *after seeing Riddle's flashback* Someone please bring the little boy a strawberry cake.

Riddle: *apologizing and saying everything he wanted to do*

Yuu: That's it, get me on that mother, let's have an adult to adult talk.

Crowley: Yuu no.

Yuu: I'll show her what respectful parenting is NOT.

Riddle: I want to apologize for what happened.

Yuu: Oh, don't worry, it's okay, although I still don't get that magic thing.

Riddle: It was childish behavior.

Yuu: …

Riddle: I wish I could be as mature as you.

Yuu: Hey, don't be in a hurry to grow up. That adulthood thing is a scam, you never feel mature enough.

Riddle: But-

Yuu: What matters is not to be more grown up in certain situations, it's to learn from them and take a note for the next one. And even if I seem more mature as you say, I'm just as lost as you are in some things, don't let anyone fool you, adults don't have everything under control.

Riddle: Thank you…

Yuu: And let me give you some advice, the family tree can also be pruned.

.

.

[anki-of-beleriand]

A Heart Made Of Glass ch.15

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Reader has some decisions to make, Wanda is just confused, and things are finally looking up for the both of them.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 15

From Kamar-Taj

Time didn't stop after Wanda left.

Days and nights came by without any significant changes, the different agencies that had come to help during the dome incident had long gone and you were left alone once more. 

Tony had stayed behind long enough to ensure you and the others would be fine. And Monica had stayed to keep Carol company before going back to her normal duties; life in general went back to what it was.

Like the waters of the ocean surrounding Ulsteinvik, there was only calmness and the people in the city had forgotten and forgiven the small disruption in their lives. You were still as welcome, as the first time you got into the city to help those in need. 

The holidays had been welcomed by the inhabitants of the city with fireworks and a party that lasted a full weekend. You had enjoyed the admiration and sheer happiness on America's face whenever she went from one stand of food to the other, when she got in contact with teens her age and soon found herself living a life she hadn't enjoyed so far.

A bell sounded to your left, the door of the restaurant opened with a twirl of cold wind sneaking inside the place. You shifted on the chair leaning against the wall, your eyes following with amusement the discussion America started with Yelena. 

“She is unbelievable, you would think she is the same age as America.” Natasha snorted when Yelena slapped the table pointing to the street, soon the both of them left to prove a point missed by you and Natasha.

“I think they like to mess with one another far too much.” You shrugged, grabbing the glass of wine you had been drinking and taking another ling sip. 

It wasn't until then you noticed you had been left alone with Natasha. The Widow smirked, quivering a brow at you, her hands placing themselves on the table with her eyes never leaving yours, you knew what was about to come. For more than two weeks everyone had been trying to get a hold of you and the letter and know exactly what the young witch had said to you.

So far, you had been successful in pretending that letter never happened, making sure you were never alone with Natasha or Yelena.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Natasha asked, leaning back on the chair, her clear eyes studying you. “Whatever it was, it really had an effect on you. Should I be worried?”

You exhaled placing your closed hands on the table, the steam coming from your mug covering your chin. Natasha scrutinised your posture and your facial expressions, it was something she had been doing in the last couple of weeks knowing that whatever had happened with Wanda was still affecting you in ways you didn't want to. You had been standing on the outlines, trying to disappear behind your shadows while zoning out whenever everyone was sharing light conversation at the dinner table or a mission was being shared. 

“Wanda told me what she did after the funeral,” you started the story, your head tilting to the side while your hand made a gesture to the waitress for the woman to bring another round of coffee.

“It is a rather long story, Tasha.” You smiled when the other woman raised a single eyebrow at you.

“So I see, I'm going to finally get the full story? The real one?”

You chuckled, shrugging while taking a long sip from the cup.

“She went back to the compound, went through my room until she came across the small trunk I kept in the wardrobe.”

You could see as realisation hit Natasha in a second, her eyes went wide with a slack jaw marked by the disbelief of what Wanda found inside that place. You nodded smiling bitterly at her 

“Yeah, she found everything and then, she just wanted to see Westview and the area where the place was supposed to be.”

From there you told Natasha everything you heard from Wanda and whatever blank spaces you filled in with some digging. You knew Tony had helped Wanda at some point, then she was contacted by Strange to help with the case of America which led her to your doorstep. Even after that, it was obvious something had happened, and that was the moment in which Agatha entered the story.

Agatha had worked in the shadows lurking Wanda to the spot she had been looking for I'm Westview. She had made it possible for Wanda to break down, with the enchantment she had placed before Wanda's arrival, she had worked her way into the fantasy guaranteeing that she could control some aspects of the fantasy.

Pietro and Vision had been some of them.

“Do you believe them?” Natasha finally asked, she squinted her eyes reading your reaction at her question. “It sounds convenient that Agatha could only bring dead people, so Visions being there was a coincidence meant to manipulate you. Convenient.”

The door of the café opened and closed again, the conversation around your table was suddenly louder than it had been moments ago. You scolded thinking over what Natasha was just saying, it was something you had thought but it was far too elaborate for Wanda to just make it up.

Right?

Besides, Agatha did admit to the manipulation. Your eyes hardened, you clenched your jaw tilting your head until your eyes focused on the world outside. Whatever doubts growing in your mind stopped when you remember childish laughter and then non-stop babbling from the twins.

“They look like me.” You mumbled turning to Natasha. “You should have seen them, Tasha. Billy and Tommy have some resemblance to me and Wanda, their eyes, the colour of the hair, the smile, some mannerisms…”

“Is this why you have been acting weird since you came back?” Natasha leaned over the table, she didn't miss your behaviour in the last couple of weeks her concern for you had been latent at all times but she had always respected your space allowing you to just come to her to talk.

You purse your lips grabbing a napkin, the frown deepened with your eyes flickering between confusion and nostalgia.

“Partially.” 

It was so easy to pretend you were still angry at hurt by what happened ten years ago, to just turn your back on the young woman you had met on a mission angry and scared that ended up becoming your life. Never before or after her did you feel the same for anyone, not even Carol. And when Wanda came back, hurt, scared, tired and asking for help your heart trembled with the same love you thought you had buried in the past. 

But love was not enough.

“She is still in love with you.” It was a statement, Natasha drank her tea glancing out of the window. “I don't think she never stopped loving you.”

“Love is for children.” You smirked amused by the roll of Natasha's eyes.

“True, but sometimes love should be enough.”

“It's never enough.” You leaned back scratching the back of your neck. “I could experience first hand what it would be like to be with her.”

Natasha softened at your words, she heard as you narrated every single detail of what you lived in the other universe. How you became a parent to the children that seemed to love you even though you were a different mom to them. How your other self would glance at Wanda and how that Wanda would look at you.

For the first time ever since everything happened you opened up about your fears, your hopes, and your wishes. It hadn't been easy to come to the conclusion of what you really desired, of what you really needed. But, here you were, pouring your heart out to Natasha, the only woman apart from Yelena that could beat some sense into you.

“What did the letter say?” Natasha finally asked, you hesitated before putting the letter from your pocket and handing it to the other woman.

“That love should be enough to start again.” You replied, focusing your attention on the people walking down the street. Natasha concentrated,reading the letter left by Wanda on the day she went away. 

Dear Y/N,

I’m not good with words, and I don't even know how to say everything I wish to tell you. My words had been trapped inside my head for over a decade, and I wasn't sure if approaching you with them was a wise thing to do. I knew of your anger towards me, and I knew you were probably feeling a hatred I didn't want to see in your eyes. I just couldn't deal with you not looking at me with love and happiness, the way it used to be.

I made many mistakes. But the biggest one was to let you go.

I asked for forgiveness once, but I wanted to say it once more.

Please, my love, forgive my weakness and my indecision. I should have never acceded to what was easy, to what my parents would have wanted, to what everyone was expecting of me. I know this doesn't make it any less stupid or hurtful, and that I should have never hurt you in such a way.

You are my world, and ever since you’ve been gone I have been so lost.

But I push myself to continue because I cannot give up, I have to discover my worth to be able to reach out to you once more.

I don't want to keep going knowing you are out there and that I am not with you, and I don't want to live with the past above my shoulders afraid of at least tried to be with you. After what we lived in these last week's I realized, I don't want to.

I understand if you are no longer interested, and that you already have someone else in your life. If that's the case, I would step aside but be there for you as a friend.

If not, then…I won't give up on you. I love you, I am still so much in love with you that sometimes it is hard to breathe and my chest twisted painfully knowing you and I could be…in another time, in another universe.

I will leave, not because I want to, but because I need to.

But I will wait for you, if this is what you want.

Love should be enough for now, right? This time around I promise you I won't let you go without a fight, my heart is already yours, Y/N, it has been for more than a decade. Please, just…give us a chance.

With love,

Wanda M.

Silence followed Natasha just as she placed the letter on the table. The only sounds breaking into their shared space were those of cutlery and low conversation in other tables, everyone was oblivious to what the two women had been sharing and even the weight of the circumstances leading them to the situation they were in at the moment.

You rested your chin on the back of your hand, your eyes dancing around the streets following patterns with your mind going back to the letter. You had learnt it's contents a long time ago, ever since Yelena gave you the letter. 

“The only one that can do something about this is you, you know that, right?”

“I know.” You faced Natasha, your lips curving upwards. 

“I've been with you all this time, Y/N.” Natasha chose her words with care, never once letting go of your stare. “I've seen the good and the bad, I've seen you fighting against your own pain and becoming the woman you are right now…and I have seen Wanda as well, she wasn't as lucky as you were.”

“I know.” You whispered, Natasha offered a tender smile placing a hand on top of yours. 

“I want you to be happy.” Natasha squeezed your hand winking. “I think it will take time but, perhaps, a friendship is not a bad idea.”

You opened your eyes at those words, your heart leaping inside your chest.

“You think…it is possible?”

“It's what you want, isn't it?”

You didn't answer, but if you were honest with yourself, it was what you wanted and what you had already decided to do. You were still afraid, going back to Wanda would it mean to face a past that was not completely erased and buried, and it was also a chance of falling harder than ever and not being able to go back from these emotions anymore. But, now that you knew what could happen, you couldn't say no to just give her and yourself a chance.

Before anything else could be done or said a tap on the window called your attention, Yelena and America were grinning through the window pointing to some bags they had on their hands. You snorted turning to Natasha who was still looking at you with tenderness.

“I guess we should go.”

“Let's go, the .”

Natasha didn't ask, and you didn't elaborate, but the both of you had come to the same conclusion and now it was a matter of time for you to step into the road leading to Wanda Maximoff.

________

She could hear the shower running, the sound of your voice singing a random song from your playlist. Carol smiled, closing the door of the room behind her, her footsteps taking her to the bed where she saw your clothes scattered around the bed. The blond-haired woman went to pick them up, thinking about the domesticity of her life in recent weeks.

The whole fiasco with Wanda had made her feel insecure, Carol had seen the conflict in your eyes but as soon as the other woman had been out of the picture it was easier for you to go back to Carol. It had not been easy, and Carol had been patient enough to know that it was time for her to make the proposal.

It was something the both of you had talked about before, Carol still had a duty to the Galaxy and she would be more than happy to share her travels with you.

Carol grabbed your jacket, her eyes flickering around until they fell on the white envelope inside your pocket. Without thinking too much about it, she grabbed the envelope looking at its contests before sitting down to read the letter.

The warm water rolling down your back felt heavenly, you lifted your face to the shower while letting the notes of the song overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long day, America was about to start school once more and Yelena was supposed to leave for New York the following week 

Your conversation with Natasha left your soul lighter, while your heart trembled with anticipation of what you would do. A part of you knew what should be your next action, while another part dread the conversation you needed to have with Carol Danvers.

When the both of you started the relationship, you never left space for romance. It was physical more than emotional, yet Carol had become a close friend and someone you could trust with your life, it was only fair for you to be honest with Carol. You didn't know what would happen with Wanda, but Carol was too emotionally involved with you for you to just leave things the way they were.

You excited the bathroom with a towel covering your body, your hands stopped midair just as your eyes fell on the woman sitting on your bed. 

“Carol! Hey, I didn't expect you here so soon, I thought you were with Monica.”

Carol winced, lowering her gaze, she pressed her lips together before facing you. You cocked your head, blinking slowly at the seriousness from the other woman.

“She had an important meeting, it didn't make sense for me to stay behind.” Carol stood up, her hand holding a familiar envelope.

Your eyes opened slightly, your eyebrows shooting upwards while the other woman stretched her hand in your direction.

“I never have a chance with you,” she stated, you opened your mouth ready to say something but the other woman shook her head. Tears welling up in her eyes.

“No, don't say anything, I know.” Carol shook her head looking away, “you told me, hell even Natasha told me, but I just thought she had hurt you enough for you to stop feeling anything for her.”

The conversation was turning out to be something uncomfortable with you dressed only on a towel. You tried to hold onto it, while trying to be as serious and as clear as possible.

“Carol, this has nothing to do with Wanda.” You started almost wincing when Carol narrowed her eyes at you nodding to the letter.

“I think it has everything to do with her.”

Silence followed such declaration, you stood there undecided as to what to do or how to proceed. The hand holding the letter was heavy, while the one holding the towel had been shaking all this time. You could see the hurt in Carol's eyes, how lost and really brokenhearted she was feeling at the moment.

It was something you had lived once that you wouldn't want anyone experiencing the same situation as you did. 

“Yes and no.” You stated trying to look for the right words. “I have been running from my emotions for a very long time, from my past and this mission…I never thought I would be facing everything I thought I didn't need or even want.”

“So now you're going back to her?” Carol couldn't help but press the subject, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not sure as to what do I want to do or what it is exactly that I am looking for,” this time around you stepped forward, your hand left the towel to grab Carol's hand. “I just know that I have to do something about it and…see what will happen.”

Carol wanted to add something else, she wanted to say something but whatever she might say would sound hurtful and resentful. You stepped closer waiting to see if she rejected your proximity but if anything Carol seemed to give in. 

“I'm sorry.” Your voice was above a whisper, her hands soon wrapped around your waist and you could feel her warm breath on your neck.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Carol.”

“I know, I just wish I was enough for you.”

Without thinking too much, or actually planning on doing something different your cupped her face leaning in to share a goodbye kiss. Carol sighed, kissing you harder, pressing you against the closest wall trying to imprint in her mind the last memory she would have of you.

______________

Three months later

The rain was falling on the roof with constant tapping breaking the silence in the room.

The heavy aroma of incense and myrrh impregnated the air in the room, the placed was decorated with earthly colours and there was a single chair that had been occupied by a strange man wearing a dark orange Kasaya. The man had been there ever since you arrived at the temple, his eyes dancing around a book he was reading with attention.

Your feet took you to the closest window, the world right outside was a full range forest that was being clouded by the falling rain and the darkening sky. Thunder broke into the valley, and you winced hearing the rumbling sky right above your head echoing its rage with nothing to quiet down the sound. Your eyes flickered to the sky, and for that moment, your mind drifted to the last couple of weeks in which your life had change so drastically.

After Carol found Wanda’s letter in your pocket, she decided to leave for good.

It was a tough decision, and a part of you regrated the way she had to leave and how things ended up between the both of you. It hadn’t been fair with the other woman, but you never made any promises that you couldn’t keep. In the end, Carol understood this and after one last goodbye, she left to comply with her mission to the Galaxy.

You always thought you would go looking for Wanda after that, but you didn’t.

Instead of just going where your heart was telling you to go, you stayed behind to fix and organise your life the best way you could. Natasha and Yelena kept up with their mission, the brought former Widows and some hurt powered individuals that you helped to go back on their feet while teaching America about her powers while giving her a taste of a normal life.

It had been working just fine, America had been getting used to her life with you and she was getting into the whole high-school adventure the best way she could. Life in Norway had always been a quiet experience, and something that you had fallen in loved with ever since you got there; that was the reason you never left. But in the midst of all of this, and life going back to what it was you found yourself going back to the letter and to Wanda.

It became quite the habit for you to just sit outside or go to the lighthouse to think and overthink about Wanda, the letter, and what you should do next.

“Why do you keep pretending to think about what you’re going to do when you already know?”

Yelena had been the first one to question you, and you didn’t have a complete answer to that. You just gave a vague answer dismissing the young woman before going back to ignore the tug at your heart, and the memory of Wanda inside your head.

“I talk to Wanda yesterday, she wants me to tell you that she really is grateful for the book you send over, help with the boredom.” That time it had been America, and the teen had come at you with a frown and narrowed eyes. “Did you really send her a book? Why didn’t you go to her? Or wrote to her? Or even call her?”

You didn’t have an answer for those questions, so you just shrugged and proceed to ask America about the girl you saw her talking to the other day. America had blushed and soon had forgotten her questioning of your actions, you merely smirked keeping the words Wanda had sent to you closed to your heart.

“Everyone is tired of you being an idiot, so Tony sent his jet that it is waiting for you. You’ll leave at midnight, go pack your stuff.”

Natasha had not been as subtle as the others, and she had gone on full commanding mode before setting everything up for your departure. That was how you ended up at the other side of the world, with just a single backpack and waiting in the lobby with a storm happening right outside the window.

Ever since you went into the plane your heart had been leaping inside your chest, shivering while awakening a hoard of butterflies in your lower abdomen. You had been trying to control your nervousness, and your thoughts had been protected by a dark cloud ever since you arrived at Nepal. You didn’t know what you were going to say, but you did know that the time to fix everything had arrived.

“Y/N, this is really a surprised.”

You turned around to see a smirking Strange standing by the door, you returned the smirk walking towards him with your hand stretched out.

“Strange, I have to say I was forced to make up my bag and come here.” You shrugged making a face, “didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And yet, this is the place you want to be, right?” Strange chuckled tilting his head, “took you long enough.”

“Is there everyone talking about me behind my back?” You grumbled shaking your head, Strange shrugged stepping aside to show a long hallway.

“We were merely speculating and hoping.”

“Hoping?”

Strange walked beside you, his face a mask of complete peace. The man had not age that much, and yet he seemed to carry with him the weight of the world and a duty that came to him when he needed it the most.

“We were hoping for you to make the right decision.” Strange stopped at another door, this time around those eyes of his hardened while they pinned you to the spot. “Wanda has made great progress here, you know? I know things between the both of you were not easy when you were younger but things are different now.”

“I know that.” You scowled lifting your chin, “that’s the reason I’m here, things are different now and I think it is time for me to just…”

You waved your hands around, the gesture trying to replace the words you didn’t dare to say to this man. Whatever you had come to Kathmandu for, it was something you would discuss with Wanda alone. For a moment, Strange gave you an odd quizzical stare before his face relaxed again and he opened the door.

You opened your eyes impressed by the sight, right in front of you there was a huge yard filled with training grounds that were completely empty under the rain. In each corner of the squared Yard there was a fountain decorated with mythological animals pouring water with a melodic fall. Your eyes went from the yard to the ceilings and the sky, then they finally focused on a young man standing by the closest column waiting patiently for something.

Strange cleared his throat presenting the young man to you.

“I have set up a room for you, Carlos will take you there.” Strange dedicated you along stare before speaking again. “Everything had been set up, and when you’re ready you will know where to go.”

“Thank you for having me here, Strange.”

“Don’t mention it, as I said, I think this is necessary and I think it would be beneficial for you and her.” Strange waved at you, turning around. “Just…don’t break her heart.”

Those words shoot a cold, sharp pain through your heart, your eyes opened and your mouth was already formulating a retort to such words. However, you stopped yourself when the sky ignited into a bluish-silvery light and thunder growled through the valley.

You jumped startle turning your eyes to the sky.

“Sometimes silence is better than no silence at all.” Carlos smiled gently at you; he bowed showing the opposite side of the hall to you. “Shall we, Mrs. Y/L/N?”

The young man led you a room in the far corner of the compound, it was under the shadow of a mountain while facing the forest and the far-away city of Kathmandu. The room was quite simple, with a single bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bathroom and a wardrobe it was something that reminded you of your younger days.

“I hope this is of your liking, Mrs. Y/L/N, dinner usually is served at 7pm, and breakfast at 6am, after those hours you are very welcome to use the kitchen at your own discretion.” Carlos explained while allowing you to se the room. “If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am in charge of you for as long as you stay here.”

“Thank you, Carlos, you are very kind.” You offered a single smile; Carlos bowed his head but before he could go you called out to him. “Carlos, wait.”

The young man turned around tilting his head with a frown on his face.

“Do you know…where can I find Wanda Maximoff?”

Carlos frown deepened and it looked to you as if he didn’t know for certain where the woman was or who you were asking for. Then, his eyes opened slightly with a glint of understanding in them.

“She usually spends her time in the Meditation Chamber, it is located it on the left wing of the compound. Near the pass to the mountain range.” Carlos hesitated before bowing again. “No one likes to go there when she is using the small chamber, Y/L/N, so please be advised of this.”

“Thank you, Carlos, I will be careful.”

The young man nodded and finally left.

You stood in the middle of the room for a while before dropping your backpack to the ground and falling to the bed. You closed your eyes, your heart beating a tad bit faster while your hands got all sweaty; there was a tingling void in the pit of your stomach making you tensed around the shoulders.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I even here? What if…what if this doesn’t work?

These thoughts danced around your head, your body regulating your breathing until you finally fall asleep. The last thought that crossed your mind was that Wanda would be in for a great surprised, and you just hoped that love really was enough.

You woke up with a start.

The room was submerged in darkness, not a single sound could be heard inside or outside your room. You sat down noticing the clothes you had arrived on, and the unmade backpack on the floor. You had fallen asleep, tired for the trip and the emotional rollercoaster you had been as of late.

You were also running from what was to come.

With a quick glance to the watch on your wrist, it was past four in the morning. You stood up and made your way to the bathroom, your mind going over the dream that had woken you up abruptly. The memories mixed with the dream of what could be, the anxiousness of a meeting you were not sure how it would turn out to be.

You took a deep breath enjoying the morning breeze that caressed your skin. The rays of light sneaking through the heavy clouds gliding above your head, it was a cold morning with little light following your stroll down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. All around you the morning routine for the inhabitants of the temple had started, with one single thought in mind, you went straight to the kitchens for a coffee before meeting with the woman you had come to see. Your lower abdomen was already filling up with butterflies, and your body tingled in anticipation.

*****

There was a small cabin located at the outskirts of the compound.

Wanda had chosen this place because it was the only place in which she could hide from the judging stare of the rest of the inhabitants in Kamar-Taj. In the last couple of months, she had been focusing on learning more about her powers and about herself, she had tried to reach out for some sort of peace while getting her powers under control.

It had worked, to some degree.

What she really found difficult to overcome, or to actually face with a cold heart was her past. And more exactly, her feelings for you. The memories mixed inside her head, the possibilities along with her desires and her hopes brought a new kind of longing to her heart. The letter she left behind had been her fighting effort to be a part of your live, she was conscious of your anger but also of your willingness to forgive. 

Wanda had hoped that perhaps…

The sun raised on the horizon, this time around the yellowish light broke into the sky bathing that ground with light. Wanda rested her elbows on her knees, her eyes lost on the mountain chains spreading through the valley. She had found peace in Kamar-Taj, and after three months of uncertainty, she had given up seeking to heal her broken heart.

“You surely know how to pick these places.” Your voice broke any silence spreading through the house, Wanda jerked awake turning sharply to the source.

You stood rather awkwardly at the door leading to the yard, your hand scratching the back of your head but your eyes completely set on Wanda.

“Y/N?” Wanda whispered in disbelief; with heavy limbs she turned completely standing up. “You…what…”

The words went missing in her mind, she was dumbfounded never thinking it was possible to see you once more. To actually have you there, standing casually in front of her. You raised a brow, lips curling in amusement, you stepped closer observing as all defenses broke and Wanda stood vulnerable in front of you. Why didn't you see it before that day?

There was some hesitation on your part but, after a brief moment, you stepped closer hugging Wanda, holding her closer to your chest. 

“Hey there, little witch.” The nickname rolled out of your lips with a  familiarity you hadn’t lost and Wanda wrapped her arms around you tightly hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

This moment crossed your mind several times, each scenario had been different every time and sometimes the outcome had not been pleasant. But at that moment, it was everything you were looking for and Wanda was needing.

The sunny morning had changed rapidly into a snowy one, the sky darkened with cold breezes breaking into the temple forcing its inhabitants to seek refuge inside the quarters of the temple.. 

Wanda had been talking non-stop, it was unusual of her to just make small conversation but she had been nervous enough to have you there to just stay quiet and not say anything at all. Her hand grabbed the teapot, pouring the warm water into the small mugs she had fixed on a tray.

“Strange thought this could be good for me, he told me the offer had been on the table by the time Thanos was defeated but…” Wanda lifted the tray making her way to makeshift living room.

“But America and Westview happened.” You finished helping her out, Wanda smiled nervisouly shrugging while locking her eyes to yours. “You never have a rest, haven't you? I mean, as far as I know, you have been facing difficulties from day one and…”

“Losing you left me lost.” She mumbled sitting down, conscious that your eyes were on her. 

This was the first time she referred to that moment, Wanda grabbed the mug with both hands frowning lightly.

“I was afraid of everything I was feeling, everything I was experiencing with you.” She whispered only for you to hear. “You were everything I wanted and I was…I wasn't no one, Y/N, why would you want to be with me?”

You pierced together every single moment surrounding the break up, the treason before and after, the happiness and the heartbreak. At that time, Wanda had been completely alone, having lost Pietro had been difficult and then she was trusted into a life she hardly understood, and people that were more afraid of her than anything. It was not an excuse, but you understood what Wanda was saying.

“You broke my heart so bad, Wanda.” You spoke, noticing the hardening of your voice, Wanda winced but you didn't stop there. “I was in love with you, ready to give you the world, ready to help you with the weight you were carrying…but I never saw how hard it was for you.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “did I ever tell you about the beginning of the war?”

The question caught you by surprise, the change of topic was so sudden you were tempted to press further into questions about the cheating and the reasoning behind it. It was the shadows crossing Wanda's face that made you rethink your options, and the fact this was the first time she spoke about Sokovia.

“You never spoke about Sokovia, or your family. Not really.” You replied, earning a simple nod.

“My family was complicated, mom lost dad when we were children and she married soon after.” Wanda spoke with the weight of memory in her voice, her eyes drifting away until the found yours once more. “My stepfather was a religious man, and mom was a school teacher that had never forced her beliefs on us until then.”

You fixed your position on the sofa, your eyes never leaving Wanda. It was the first time Wanda really opened up to you, a story and a background you didn't know and that was showing a side of Wanda that had been unknown to you.How many times did you really talk to her? How many stories had she told you about herself?

Why did you fall in love with her?

Why were you still in love with her?

“He was really tough on me, Pietro would get away with almost anything until the first bombs were heard in the outskirts of the city.” This time around she softened the corner of her eyes, her lips twitching upwards, “he was so mad he wasn't allow to go to the soccer match, that he dragged me out of the house and we both tried to get to the field. We almost died that day.”

You straightened up leaning in with eyes wide open.

“You did?”

“Yes, one of the first conflicts broke out in the neighbourhood where the field was located.” Wanda made a face, “I had never been so afraid as I was at that moment.”

“What do you miss the most about Sokovia?”

The question caught Wanda by surprise, whatever shadow of war and memory dropped for a moment giving way to a different expression. 

“I loved the libraries.” 

“You did?” You chuckled watching as Wanda leaned forward all giddy telling you about the public library near her home, how the books were organised on different shelves and the sight of so many books she could get her hands on had always been so tempting she found peace and happiness in these places.

“After my parents died, I was so busy trying to survive and to make my way through the world with Pietro I just forgot about it.” Wanda lowered her face, her eyes on the floor. “I was angry, lost and afraid…then, Hydra came and I didn't want to be a victim anymore.”

You purse your lips remembering those first days in which you met Wanda. An angry and dark teenager that was angry at the world for everything that had happened to her.

“I guess it must have been hard to see Pietro again.” You said all of a sudden, Wanda nodded curtly tears forming in her eyes.

“It was hard seeing everyone, everything I could have but…”

“We don't know if we could have.” You finished placing the mug on the table, tilting your head, your eyes focused on the window, glancing at the world outside. “I guess things could have been different, perhaps worse…”

“Or better.” Wanda followed your eyes to the window, it was raining with some snowflakes swirling around.

You shrugged, lowering your eyes to the watch on your wrist. It was past midday, lunch was already being served back in the main temple and your stomach was protesting from the lack of food. 

“You could stay.” Wanda proposed following your stare to the outside, you teared your eyes from the window glancing at Wanda that was blushing lightly. “I mean, it is raining and the main temple must be full, and it is so far and…”

Wanda gasped tensing when your hand fell upon yours, your lips broke into an easy smile. 

“I was thinking the same, but perhaps you have something to eat? I'm starving.”

The change Wanda had was almost surprising, her whole face lit up and she stood right away stretching her hand towards you. You glanced at her hand, then at the grin adorning her face before taking her hand in yours standing up and letting her guide you through the small cabin.

“Oh, you're in for a huge surprise, I've been dying to show these new recipes to someone but…” Wanda trailed off, her enthusiasm almost diminishing until you squeezed her hand smiling encouragingly at her.

“I've been on my own in this place ever since I came here. Not many are very open to share a conversation with me.”

“Why's that?” You inquired frowning lightly, Wanda shrugged looking away from you.

“They are afraid of my powers and…how powerful I am.”

Silence followed her words, but soon there was no more conversation needed it as you two reached a small kitchenette located at the back of the cabin. Wanda pointed to a dinning chair near the island counter, her happy smile was back on making sure you were seated before she started working around.

“You really are excited about this.” You commented chuckling lightly, your cheeks burning when the other woman winked at you, carefree and grinning.

“I just…” she bit her lower lip, her eyes glancing everywhere but at you, “I'm just happy I'm not alone, that I have someone to cook for.”

Wanda turned quickly busying herself with the past and the knives putting the food from a cupboard and a fridge.

“When did you learn to cook?” You asked resting your elbows on the counter, your eyes never left the form of Wanda observing the tension on her shoulders, or listening to the trembling on her voice.

“When we have to go on the run…after Lagos.” 

“Those were difficult times,” you recalled the conflict and the drama, Natasha trying to balance her public life with her life as a spy, then Steve and Tony arguing like children while the world divided itself without any reason.

“You signed the treaty, though.” 

“I did but it didn't matter.” You cocked your head, smiling as the other woman scowled openly at your words. “They needed the idea of control, and that's what we did. But they never got a chance to actually controlled us, our abilities and the danger that has always lurked in the dark wouldn't allow them to actually have any control. Or power.”

Wanda opened her mouth ready to argue your position, she had been at the other end of the conflict being accused of horrible crimes while being called names that had broken her at some point.

You softened your stance, sympathy showing in your eyes.

“It was different for you, wasn't it?”

“Everyone thinks I'm a monster.” She replied flatly, “I'm starting to think they are right.”

It was not only Lagos, it was Edinburgh and Sokovia, it was her working for Hydra and then coming back from the snap with anger and sadness in her heart. It wasn't easy for her, and you were just taking noticed of the external factors that had pushed Wanda over the edge on more than one occasion.

“You're not a monster.” Your replied was supposed to be encouraging but your voice hardened this statement, you winced noticing the hurt flash crossing her green eyes.

“I guess it doesn't matter anymore.” Wanda turned around busying herself with the food. “I'm here now, away from everyone I could ever hurt, trying to just control myself and learn more about my powers.

Alone.

She didn't say it, but for you the word resounded perfectly after her statement. Soon after all conversation died and the only sounds were those of Wanda moving around the kitchen preparing the lunch she had been so eager to show you moments ago.

A little restlessly, you stood up walking around the kitchenette taking noticed of the appliances as well as the actual construction of the cabin. The place was at the outskirts of a temple that had exist before any civilization had a chance to flourish. Your sight lifted to the mountain chains hovering above the valley, the dark clouds of a storm along with the drops of water covered the plain making the resto of the world invisible to prying eyes. The cabin was on the perfect spot for anyone to disappear for a while.

You turned around observing the furniture and the few things that were Wanda's. You took notice of the books, and the notebooks, her clothes and her blankets, the shoes on the floor and the pictures on the coffee table. With some trepidation, you approached the table, your eyes going wide open as they fell on the picture right on the top.

It was a picture of you and her.

You two were younger, the smiles and the closeness were evidence of what was starting to happen between the both of you. It had been a happy moment, right before the both of you escaped the watchful eye of Tony, Steve and Natasha and went out of your way to have fun and find so much needed love.

“I love that picture.” Wanda appeared out of nowhere, you jerked around finding her standing by a cabinet, her eyes far away submerged in memories. “That day you went out of your way to make me laugh, to try and make me happy…it was…”

“After your birthday.” You mumbled, smiling softly while approaching her. “I remembered.”

You stood right in front of her, the heat from her body comforting the cold ess in yours. Her eyes filled with uncertainty and hopefulness, your heart shrank at the scene wanting nothing more than to give in. Wanda wrapped her left hand around her right forearm, tension growing around you two…waiting…

“Lunch is ready.” Wanda was the first one to break the silence, the tension broke with a splash of cold water and soon there was only awkwardness.

“Good, I'm starving.” You declared touching your abdomen, Wanda smiled nodding to the kitchen.

“I…I hope you like it.” She stated stepping back an dreading you back, whatever was happening, whatever was about to happen put to a rest while you and Wanda tricked yourselves into denial.

—-----------------------

The rest of the afternoon went by without any major incident, Wanda was afraid to ask about your life but you didn't need any questions since the silence was becoming unbearable. With some select stories, you told Wanda what you had done ever since you left the Avengers, you told her about the many adventures and those tragic events that had surrounded your life. She had filled in the spaces with her own stories, but the strained that had been growing since lunch was still there lurking and waiting to explode.

You stretched out tilting your head to see the rain had stopped and the night was filled with stars and a bright, silver moon. 

“I think I should go.” You mumbled but did not make any attempt to move from your spot.

Wanda followed your eyes, biting her lower lip.

“It's late.” She stated with some hesitation, “you could…you could stay the night. I mean, the walk to the main temple is long and in this darkness could be dangerous, and it was raining so …”

“You do know that I can moved through the shadows once I know where I am going, right?” You replied amusedly, Wanda blushed opening and closing her mouth.

“Yes, yes of course I know, I…” Wanda trailed off, lowering her gaze.

I don't want you to go.

You nodded briefly standing up and completing your stretching routine. Your eyes never once leaving the form of Wanda.

“Then, I'll leave. We can continue this tomorrow, if you're up to it.”

“Yes!” Wanda stood up rather fast almost falling on you, she couldn't stop blushing cursing her own inadequacy and cowardice. “I mean, that would be nice.”

“We could train and you can show me what you have learnt in here so far “

“Sure, that would be…nice.” Wanda bounced lightly wanting to say something else but unable to do so.

You turned around but, right before you were consumed by your shadows you leaned in placing a single kiss on Wanda's cheeks.

“Have a good night, Little Witch.”

You left and Wanda was left frozen on the spot, her face warm with a single hand brushing against the spot you had just kissed. With some hesitation, she wrapped her arms around herself and went to bed, thoughts of you dancing inside her head. There was just a single thought tormenting her, and it was the question that kept her most of the night awake.

What was going on with you and that sudden visit?

_____________

What Wanda thought would be a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks.

The questions tormenting her mind never stopped, but she didn't dare to voice any of them for fear of breaking the status quo of her relationship with you. Idhe was happy with what she could get, even if that meant she would think about it at night unable to sleep wondering just what the hell was happening or why you were there. She would remember your smile, your words, the conversations that made her laughed or know the Y/N she had missed all those years; and then she would turn around put her knees to her chest and let herself feel the twist of her heart thinking of the cruel torture that was seeing you and not being able to be with you.

It was difficult, but Wanda was just happy with what she could get from you. 

“You have to lift your arm…yes, just like that.” 

Your voice and the soft touch of your arms broke Wanda's thoughts, she felt her cheeks colouring red at the closeness of your body, the sweet torment of your warm breath on her ear.

“There you go, let's do it slowly. First learn this form before channelling the energy.”

You smiled satisfied when the young woman followed your instructions, Wanda had been distracted in the last couple of days and her frustration had grown to the point she was always tense when trying to follow up your instructions. You stepped back watching before joining her with your own exercises, taking a deep breath while enjoying the silence that echoed through the valley.

“When did you learn all of this?” Wanda huffed tiredly, she turned around to see the teasing smirk dancing on your lips. “This is…difficult.”

You shrugged, finishing the final movement before scratching the back of your head, you step closer to Wanda standing right in front of her. It was easy to see when her breath caught in her throat, how her eyes dilated and the muscles of her body tense completely. Your heart shivered lightly, your arms stretching with the palms of your hands turned to her, Wanda furrowed her brows watching as you joined her hands with yours.

“I was angry at the world, violent and a little confused when Natasha first took me in,” you explained, never looking away from Wanda while your hands alongside hers lifted and started a new form of Tai Chi. 

“This technique gave me peace, but it wasn't until I left the Avengers that I realised I need to really learn about my powers.” You furrowed your brows, the memories breaking inside your mind, Wanda couldn't look away her heart leaping intensely while her body submitted herself to you.

“This helps me understand the shadows and the darkness inside my heart, besides…” your smirk grew, your eyes gleaming mischievously, “it is giving me an opportunity to be close to you, right?”

Wanda couldn't help the blush growing on her face, nor the smile that showed on her lips. You chuckled, leading her for at least fifteen more minutes before the training session was over. 

The morning had been cold, and the rain had become a constant occurrence in the time you had been in Nepal. That morning had been not an exception, and by the time the training had been over your clothes were completely drenched; you made a face grabbing your jacket and the boots while looking around for your backpack. The downside of coming all the wat to where Wanda was staying was precisely that your stuff was all in the room up in the main building.

Wanda could see your hesitation and annoyance, your eyes going from one piece of clothing to the other while your hand massaged the back of your neck. The young witch chewed on her lower lip, thinking on how to proceed before stepping closer her hand placing tenderly on your shoulder.

You turned around tilting your head while furrowing your eyes, Wanda offered a tentative smile nodding to the cabin.

“I have hot water and some spare clothes, it you don’t mind.” She said tentatively, “that way you don’t have to go all the way to the temple and…well, you…you can finally take my offer of staying here.”

You pressed your lips together thinking over the offer, you hadn’t dared to tell Wanda that night would be the last one you would stay in Nepal. That day you had planned to finally have a serious conversation with her right before leaving; the last couple of weeks had been amazing and you had given in normality instead of facing the real issue that had brought you all the way to Kamar-Taj.

“I mean, you don’t have to and if you want…” Wand started babbling waving her hands while trying to hide her nervousness, you realised you had taken far too long to answer her and she was now trying to cover up for something that might not be what you wanted.

“Hey, that’s okay I was just…” You hesitated straightening up, the same nervous gesture of your hand at the nape of your neck present, “look…I just think we must talk.”

“Oh.” Wanda stepped back placing her left hand on her right elbow, her face fell only to change into a grimace that she tried to make look natural, “right, I mean you have Natasha and Yelena, and America is there and…and Carol. Right I just, I thought…”

Whatever Wanda thought got tangle in her throat as she found herself mere inches away from you, your hands had been placed tenderly on her hips and you were trying to catch her eyes in your to make sure that whatever you were going to say was not lost in misunderstanding.

“I have to go back, yes.” You started taking care of the words you were using, “Natasha and Yelena got news of something unusual happening in France and wanted my help, America is still at school so I have to make sure everything is arranged and Carol…”

A swift breeze formed around them, Wanda was frowning crunching up her nose while her eyes gleamed a single flash of red. She stepped back lifting her hand when you tried to approach her.

“I know, I get it. I never expected you to stay longer than…than what you should, I mean I don’t even know why you came here.” Wanda finally said looking away from you not really understanding what was happening, but hating the fact she was feeling so heartbroken.

“Wanda…” you started but the redhead shook her head breaking into a sad smile.

“Go take a bath and I will prepare the clothes and something to eat then, we can talk.”

You opened your mouth only to close it again nodding curtly.

“Okay.”

Without looking back at you or saying anything else Wanda turned around and left you alone feeling the coldness of the morning now more than ever.

_________________________

The sound of the shower filled your ears while the warm contact of the water heated your skin. You closed your eyes, your hands working on the knots on your back and arms moving through your shoulders and your neck whatever place you could reach. Your body was letting go of the tension, but your mind and heart were deeply tormented by what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You had come to Nepal with a single goal in mind.

Seeing Wanda after almost five months had brought back all the love you thought you had stopped feeling for her. On that first day you had thought of just talk about what had happened and her letter, but things didn’t turn out the way you expected them and, as the days passed by you realised the conversation could wait as long as you had a chance to pretend that Wanda and you were okay.

Wanda had set up the food in the small living room, she had a laptop set up while a mug of hot chocolate rested in her hands. Her face lifted in your direction, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were red, the smile she gave you was one of pure sadness and the sight alone broke your heart.

You approached her taking the spot beside her on the sofa, the table had been filled with another cup of hot chocolate, bread and some cheese.

“I thought you may be hungry as well, and I just thought well you told me you haven’t watched this movie and Strange got it for me under illegal circumstances.”

It was a silent offering that you took with a smile, you sat down grabbing the chocolate.

“I bet he did, don’t worry Tony has a specific program for this kind of activities as well,” You fixed your position on the sofa.

Wanda pulled on her blanket, a huge dark blue fleece she had bought on her way out of Norway. She stretched out making sure your legs were covered, her warm breath so close to your face that it sent shivers down your back.

“I just thought if this is going to be my last day with you, I would love to spend it like this.” She whispered, chewing on her lower lip before sitting closer to you.

“It is not your last day with me, Wanda.” You replied lowering your gaze furrowing your brows. “You left with a goodbye and a letter that left me confused.”

“It was not my intention.” Wanda leaned back, she was hoping for the conversation to not take place to perhaps evade the inevitable heartbreak but it seemed as if you were decided to continue without any consideration.

“I wrote that because…” Wanda brushed her hair shrugging, “I never thought I will meet with you again, Y/N, and the circumstances of this meeting make me face my past, and what I lost, what I could have.”

“You weren’t the only one, Wanda.” Your voice dropped shaking your head, “I never thought I will see you again, but when I did…”

“Why did you come here, Y/N?” Wanda finally dared to ask afraid of the answer but far to eager to know, to finally understand what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You were looking straight ahead, your thoughts twirling around in a maze of uncertainties. Leaning to your right, you found Wanda was just as confused and nervous as you were feeling at the moment.

“I never stopped loving you.” You confessed unable to look away from those green eyes, “I tried several times to just forget and ripped away my love for you.”

Wand winced her heart clenching inside her chest at those words.

“But I couldn’t and then…” You snorted shaking your head. “Then everything happened, you come back and I just…”

“I love you.” Wanda whispered, her lips quivering and her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I never stopped and it hurts so much knowing that I messed up so big that you…I don’t pretend you want to be with me, and I know after everything things are…”

“Confusing.” You cut in; you took a deep breath before glancing back at Wanda.

Silence fell afterwards, the tension built like an invisible force that was threatening to explode in the outcomes Wanda was afraid of. It wasn’t until that moment that she understood she had been afraid to know the answer to her question, why were you there could have many responses, but Wanda had only written two possibilities: a possible friendship, or give Wanda a chance.

Both outcomes were equally terrifying, and the silence coming from you was the most disturbing thing for her.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but the words tangled in her throat, you had shifted your position coming closer to her the back of your hand caressing her face and your eyes, those eyes that months ago had looked at her with hatred and anger, were now looking at her with tenderness and confusion. There was something else in there but Wanda was afraid to put a label on it, hope could be such a fragile emotion.

“I thought about your words, Wanda, I haven’t been able to rest since you left.” You furrowed your brows your hand moving away but your face coming closer to Wanda’s. “Tell me, what should I do?”

Wanda found herself lost in your eyes; her throat completely dry while her heart leaped painfully on her chest. Her abdomen filled with butterflies while she tried to find the right words to answer your question.

“I came here because I needed to see you, because I missed you.” You confessed your words hitting Wanda straight in her heart. “But the real reason, Little Witch, is because I don’t want to lose you. Not again. Not anymore. So, tell me, Little Witch, what should I do?”

Time stood still.

Wanda was still trying to process your words, her heart beating really fast with her mind wrapping around what you just said. She could feel your warm breath on her face, the smell of her shampoo on your hair and the sweet scent of chocolate on your breath. Wanda had waited far too long for to give her a chance and now that the opportunity was here she was afraid.

“You…You could stay with me.” Wanda whispered cringing at her response, thinking herself an idiot for not being straightforward.

You snorted shaking your head, Wanda was afraid to see anger or disappointment, but when you put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face slowly all she could see was amusement and…love.

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

The nickname rolled out of you sending shivers down Wanda’s back, something shifted at that moment but Wanda wasn’t sure what it was; but even though she was afraid and unsure, she leaned in closing the distance melting as soon as her lips touched yours.

It was like the first time you two kissed.

Tentative and timid, a single touch of lips moulding to the other with trembling hands holding you to Wanda. You missed this feeling so much, her soft lips, the taste that was purely Wanda, how she just gave in without thinking too much; the world fade away and the only person that existed was Wanda.

The kiss broke too fast for you liking, Wanda rested her forehead against yours tears rolling down her cheeks.

“What so you want, Wands?” you asked softly, your hand caressing her cheek and face.

Wanda fluttered her eyes closed leaning into your touch.

“If this is our last day, I just want to be with you.” Wanda’s eyes opened wide, her cheeks burn an intense red while you wiggle your brows teasingly.

“My, Wanda, but give us at least another cup of chocolate.” You chuckled when she slapped you playfully on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean… I just …ugh, would you stop it?” Wanda tried to hold back her laughter, but with you looking at her amused was kind of difficult.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“You’re the one with the dirty mind, I just said I want to be with you.” She retorted rolling her eyes but without getting away from your closeness.

“So movie and some snuggles?” You inquired fixing your position on the sofa, Wanda nodded playing the movie while crawling to you.

“This is not going to be our last day, Little Witch.”

“I know.” Wanda said with a flash of doubt crossing her green eyes, you wished there was something else you could tell her but for now your words should be enough. “Can we…watch the movie?”

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

You moved on your back, putting the movie while letting Wanda decided where she would rest. It didn’t take her took long to crawl to you resting her weight on your body cuddling closer with her eyes turned to the screen her ear placed tenderly on your chest hearing the beatings of your heart. Wanda sighed contentedly when your own arms wrapped protectively around her, and at that moment she knew she was falling in love with you again and this time around things would be different.

______________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: You meet with Wanda once more, this time around a different place and a different, as the world continues its existance you and Wanda are finally giving one another a chance to live. America gets in some trouble, Yelena brings back up, and Natasha can believe she is ready for retirement.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 26) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Chapter 26

The mingled scents of disinfectant and antiseptic rouse you from unconsciousness, and your mind comes back online in pieces. The room you’re in is fluorescent-bright, like a hospital. The air smells like a hospital. You’re not lying flat, but reclining, the same as you’d be in a hospital bed. The evidence suggests you’re in a hospital. Whose hospital?

You open your eyes, but they’re blurry and crusted, and when you raise one hand to rub them, it stops halfway. You pull a few times, confused, before the answer occurs to you. You’re in the heroes’ custody. You might have gotten away from Hawks, destroyed Hawks’s quirk, but you didn’t escape after all.

How long have you been here? You blink until your vision clears and sit up as far as you can go, looking around the room you’re in. You’re alone in a room with white, featureless walls, the kind most hospitals have been phasing out because they make patients feel like they’re in an asylum. There’s a door in one wall and a window next to it, but you can’t see out of it, so either it’s specially treated or there’s no one there. It’s quiet in the room other than your breathing and the hum of the machines they’ve hooked you up to.

The door opens, and someone steps through. Or rolls through. The man is in a wheelchair, and his face looks familiar. You know he’s a hero, but he wasn’t at the battle, and there’s a reason — he’s one of Stain’s victims. “You’re awake,” he says. No kidding. “As you might have guessed, you’re in custody. I’m not here to ask you questions, just to explain your medical condition.”

You nod, and the man reads off a tablet, stumbling over some of the phrasing and terminology. “You came in with a spiral fracture of the right radius and ulna, as well as a superficial laceration to your throat. In addition, you sustained whiplash injuries when your fall was broken. You’re consistently tachycardic, and your blood oxygen level is hovering at eighty-nine percent, which is why you’ve got that thing on your face.”

You can’t see it or touch it, but you’ll bet it’s a cannula. It won’t matter. As long as Tenko’s out there fighting, getting injured, your quirk will sap your energy to keep him healthy. “You’re also anemic, deficient in vitamins D and B12, and experiencing the effects of severe sleep deprivation. We took you off of sedation three days ago. You’ve been asleep ever since.”

“I’ve been here for four days?”

The hero grimaces. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to tell you that. “Because of all of the above issues, you can expect your healing process to move at a slower rate than a healthy person’s would,” he continues. He glances down at the tablet again and an awkward, uncomfortable expression crosses his face. “Finally, you, uh — you had a miscarriage. It says you were four to six weeks, er, along.”

Your mind goes completely and totally blank. The hero looks even more awkward than before. “Sorry,” he says. “Anyway, that’s it. Somebody will be by to read you your rights soon.”

He turns and wheels out the door, and you slump back against the bed. You’re in custody. You’ve been here for at least four days, and somewhere out there, Tenko is still alive. The heroes have you, but they didn’t win — but you don’t know who else they captured, and you don’t know how whatever is happening is going. You’re not badly injured, but you’re not in great shape, and until recently, you were pregnant.

You’re not going to think about that. It’s not even slightly important. What’s important is figuring out where you are, how long you’ve actually been here, what’s going on outside — and more important than the rest of it, figuring out how to get out of here, so you can get back to Tenko, where you belong.

The hero said someone would come to read you your rights, but instead of that, a quartet of armed guards comes in. One drops a set of clothes on the end of the bed while another uncuffs your wrists, and then three of them turn their backs while the fourth one — a woman — watches you change out of the hospital gown. Out of the hospital gown, and into an orange jumpsuit, which tells you exactly where you are. You wonder what you’re being charged with. At this point, they probably have a list of things.

Once you’re changed, they don’t cuff you — just surround you, shepherding you down the hall. You do your best to orient to your surroundings, peering over the guards’ shoulders and trying not to trip over your own feet. The more you look around, the weirder things get. You might be wearing a prison jumpsuit, but you aren’t in a prison. You’re in a school.

You’re in a school, and the room the guards hustle you into used to be a classroom. There’s a chalkboard at the front of the room and a blond man you don’t recognize sitting behind the desk. He looks like he’s barely awake, but when you step through the door, he sits up, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “Over there,” he says, and the guards direct you into a chair on one side of the room, then set up a chair directly across the from you. “Thanks. You all can wait outside.”

The guards file out, and the man comes from behind the desk to sit across from you. “Under ordinary circumstances, we’d be able to hold you for twenty-three days without filing a charge or reading you your rights. Under martial law, however, we can hold enemies of the state indefinitely. Want to guess what kind of law we’re operating under, Saintess?”

You don’t need to. If Hawks was right, if the country’s descending into civil war, then you know exactly how bad your situation is. “Still,” the man says, “at times like these we ought to be civilized, so I’ll inform you that you have the right to remain silent, as well as the right to an attorney at trial. If you can’t afford an attorney, the government will appoint one for you. Do you understand these rights?”

You nod. “Now, in the interest of transparency, I’m going to show you just a few of the cards in my hand,” the man says. “This is what we know about you.”

He starts with your name, then your age, then your birthplace. The schools you went to, the jobs you held in high school before starting your apprenticeship, your friends. “A bunch of delinquents, but given who you associate with now, these guys might as well have been angels,” the man says. You grit your teeth and keep quiet. “I already know you dragged one of them down with you. Kiyohara Kazuo. You know he used to be a hero?”

“It’s not my fault he isn’t one.” You won’t let a lie like that stand. “He didn’t drop out of UA because of me. That was on you.”

“You know what wasn’t on us? Convincing him to pass classified intel on to his ex-girlfriend who’s screwing Shigaraki Tomura.” The blond man’s mouth twists around Tenko’s name. “You’re listed as quirkless since birth, but you must have something pretty special going on to convince a hero to switch sides like that.”

“Or maybe you didn’t give him a good enough reason to side with you.”

The blond man scoffs but doesn’t challenge you. “Here’s the thing, though — our records have you living your perfectly boring little life until a year and a half ago. Then you show up at the ER with some weird injuries. Nine months later your clinic gets stuck handling casualties from Kamino, and three weeks later you blow up on a crisis counselor. She called it a case of PTSD. I’d buy that, maybe — except then a yakuza thug posing as a delivery driver collapses from radiation poisoning on your doorstep, and later that same day you drop off a kid the League of Villains kidnapped at the police station. The day after that, you vanish off the face of the earth. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, we started hearing about a member of the League of Villains none of us had ever seen. Or at least, we thought we’d never seen. Turns out you were right under our noses the whole time.”

He shouldn’t be surprised by that. You aren’t. Your quirklessness took care of everything — part shield, part invisibility cloak, ensuring that no one with the power to stop you would ever see you as a threat. “But I don’t want to talk about that,” the blond man says. “I want to talk about this.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic bag containing one of your quirk-canceling bullets, needle exposed, already spent. “We’ve seen quirk-canceling bullets before. But we know damn well that these are manufactured differently than the previous versions we’ve encountered. Who made them?”

“I did.”

“Cute. Who made them?”

“I did,” you repeat. The blond man scoffs. “I made them. It was me.”

“Sure. And I bet you made all the Nomus too, right? And you’re the one who Frankensteined Shigaraki into the juiced-up psychopath he is today.” The blond man shakes his head. “Don’t make me laugh. Who made the bullets?”

“I made them,” you snap. Is this really where you’re going to lose your cool? Yes. You have to vent it somewhere, and nothing you say about this will damage Tenko’s position, whatever it is, wherever he is. “What, you think being quirkless means I’m brain-dead or something? I made the bullets. If you think about it, doesn’t it make more sense that a quirkless person would create something like this? The rest of you are too obsessed with quirks to even think about taking away someone else’s.”

The blond man laughs bitterly. “When you put it like that, it does make sense,” he says. “Most of us rely heavily on our quirks. Take them away and most of us are a lot easier to defeat. Leveling the playing field really is your only move. Tell me how you did it.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” you say again. You cross your arms over your chest. They haven’t restrained you at all. There’s nothing to stop you from launching yourself at your interrogator and clawing out his eyes. “Is that really what you want to ask me?”

The blond man raises his eyebrows. “What else could I possibly ask you?”

You’re not going to give him ideas, but if you were in his spot, you can think of a few things. Anything about the League’s vulnerabilities. Anything about their quirks. Anything about the PLF’s strategy, capabilities, or ultimate goal. Based on the man’s response, he’s thinking along similar lines. “You mean, about what your friends are up to? Sorry to disappoint you, but we have other prisoners to talk to about strategy. We’re really not interested in Shigaraki’s pillow talk.”

He’s trying to bait you, you think. He wants you to blow up at him and reveal something useful. Your siblings used to do the same thing — needle you until you got mad, then use your anger as an excuse to try their quirks on you. “If you had anything useful going on, Hawks would have told us about it,” the blond man continues. “So you can either tell us who makes the bullets or I can put you back in your cell.”

“I told you who makes the bullets.”

“Then you’re going back to your cell.” The blond man summons the guards, and you get to your feet. “I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Saintess, but it wasn’t. We’ll see each other again when you’re ready to be honest.”

“I was honest,” you say, but the man turns his back, and the guards hustle you out of the classroom again.

You weren’t in a cell before, but you’re clearly headed for one. The guards take you down a different hallway this time. One side of this hallway is made up of windows, and when you peer out, you can see columns of smoke rising across an unfamiliar skyline. The sky itself is cloudy, roiling, purplish-grey shot through with orange. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it looked like the end of the world.

You don’t know what kind of room your cell used to be, but whatever it is, it’s split in half. The other side of the room is full of fog, so thick that you can’t see through it. The longer you look at it, the more ominous it seems. “Who’s over there?”

“A friend of yours.” The guard who watched you change clothes tosses a blanket at you. “Have fun.”

A friend? Your mind goes instantly to Kazuo, who you know is in police custody, but it could just as easily be Mitsuko or Ryuhei. Or maybe it’s one of your new friends — someone from the PLF, someone from the League? Or they could have been sarcastic, and it’s one of your enemies. The door shuts behind you, and the fog begins to shift. You back away until you’re against the far wall, which doesn’t feel even close to far enough, and watch as an all too familiar figure emerges from within it. Your jaw drops. “Kurogiri?”

Kurogiri’s wearing an orange jumpsuit, same as you. Something about him looks odd, and the longer you look at him, the clearer you can see the outline of a face within the mist. His footsteps are unsteady. He looks disoriented, and when he speaks, it’s in the cadence you recognize as belonging to the older brother. “Where’s Tomura?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was he captured?”

“No,” you say. You’re sure of that. “He’s still out there.”

“Is he safe?”

“I don’t know,” you say again. “I’m sorry, Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri shakes his head. “I’m — not. Not —” he grimaces, eyes narrowing to slits. You’re not used to seeing him with facial features. It’s weird. “Not Kurogiri. Shirakumo.”

“Shirakumo,” you repeat, puzzled. “Who’s Shirakumo?”

“I’m the one who protects Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri or Shirakumo or whoever he is says. “Like you.”

You remember him saying that once, a long time ago. “I tried,” you say. “I’m sorry.”

Shirakumo’s expression shifts. It looks like he feels bad, or something. It’s hard to say. “How long?” he asks. “Since they took me?”

“Months.” You think back. It was before you left Yokohama, during the League’s involvement with the Shie Hassaikai. The last time you remember seeing Kurogiri, it was when he brought you and Tomura back to your apartment from the crashed plane. “Six months. What have they been doing to you?”

“They’re helping me.”

That doesn’t sound right. “What?”

“My friends.” What little you can see of Kurogiri’s expression through the mist softens. “They want to help him, too.”

No, they don’t. If the friends Kurogiri is talking about are heroes, they want to kill Tomura. Heroes aren’t against killing people. Hawks was fine with killing you. “Who are your friends?”

“Shōta and Hizashi.”

That tells you nothing. “Are they heroes?”

“Teachers.” Shirakumo almost looks proud of them, even as his features shift, trying to settle into neutrality. “They teach here.”

You knew you were in a school. “Which school?”

“UA.”

You’re at UA. Since when is UA a prison for captured villains? Shirakumo is studying you, head tilted, concern breaking through the mist. “How did they get you? Tomura wouldn’t have let anyone hurt you.”

“He didn’t let anybody hurt me.” You feel your chest grow tight, feel your eyes begin to sting. “I’m the one who messed up.”

You did. You couldn’t get away from Hawks without winding up captured. You couldn’t keep Tomura from getting distracted during the fight — and getting hurt right now, if your slowed healing and symptoms of physical stress are anything to go by. You couldn’t convince the hero who was interrogating you that you were the one who made the bullets, which means they’re still looking for the doctor and his lab, which means access to the Nomus and the means to make them could be lost at any second. You fucked all of that up, and you got Kazuo in trouble, and maybe Mitsuko and Ryuhei, too. And then there’s the other thing, the smallest, stupidest mistake, the one that would have been so easy to avoid. You were stupid about sex, so you got pregnant, and you didn’t know it, and now you’re not pregnant anymore.

It’s not what you’re upset about, not really, but it’s the easiest thing to be upset about. Easier than thinking about how you might never see Tomura again. Your eyes well up, and when Kurogiri or Shirakumo or whoever’s in charge of the mind and body at the moment asks if you’re okay, you ignore him. You sit down with your back against the wall, draw your knees up to your chest, and rest your forehead against them as the tears drip down your face.

“No.”

You know, just from the voice, that Kurogiri is back in the driver’s seat. You look up and find him watching you from the far side of the glass. “No,” he says again. “They are watching. Do not let them see even a hint of weakness.”

Right. They’re treating you like a villain. You are a villain. Villains don’t cry. You wipe your eyes and sit up straight in a hurry. “Besides,” Kurogiri says, “you cannot believe that Shigaraki Tomura will leave you here. Which will be more beneficial to him once he has liberated you — your tears, or any information you might gather about your surroundings?”

Kurogiri’s right. Tenko won’t leave you here. He’ll come to find you, and when he does, you want to be ready to help him as much as you can. Crying won’t help at all. You make eye contact with Kurogiri and nod once. He nods in response. “We are the ones who protect Shigaraki Tomura,” he says. “Welcome back, Saintess.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There aren’t windows in the room they’re keeping you and Kurogiri in. Kurogiri gets to leave more often than you do, and he always sounds like Shirakumo when he comes back — and because he sounds like Shirakumo, he’s a lot more willing to talk to you about what’s going on out there. Shōta and Hizashi tell him a lot more than your interrogator tells you, at least. You spend hours staring up at the ceiling, turning it over and over in your head, watching the picture of what’s happening in Japan come together slowly. It’s not pretty.

You never expected it to be pretty. You weren’t that naive. But the scale of the destruction you’re hearing about is horrifying. Every time Shirakumo comes back, it’s with the report of something else that’s gone. Shiroiwa — gone. Musutafu — gone. Morioka — gone. Nagano — gone. Civilian casualties are lighter than expected, courtesy of the PLF giving mountains of advance warning of where they’re headed next, but heroic casualties are sky-high. No matter who they throw at the situation, the heroes don’t have a good way to stop Gigantomachia. And if what Shirakumo says is true, most battles end the instant Tomura sets foot on the field.

You and he had talked about ways to destroy the old world, and you’d agreed on wanting at least something left to work from, but it sounds like Tomura is leveling cities to the ground every other day, leaving nothing there but dust — or, in the case of the city the two of you were born in, leaving a crater in the earth two miles wide. You can always tell when there’s been a heroic counterattack, because you can always tell when he’s being hurt. You get nauseous, lightheaded, tachycardic, short of breath, as your body strains to match whatever punishment Tomura is taking. The vast majority of the times you’ve been allowed to leave your cell, it’s to receive medical treatment for a condition no one can diagnose, a condition whose origin you wouldn’t admit to even under torture. They might have a way to erase quirks. You can’t breathe a word without risking Tomura.  

Even with Super-Regeneration, he’s suffering. You’re starting to think that the injuries he takes during each battle are the only reason Japan hasn’t been completely laid to waste already.

Your interrogator is getting frustrated with you. Frustrated with Shirakumo, too. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he explodes, after you ask him about the rumor that more heroes than civilians have died in the fighting. “Does he just run to you with everything?”

“There’s not much else to talk about in there,” you say. “If you don’t want him to talk to me, put one of us in a different cell.”

“See, we can’t do that,” the blond man says bitterly. “We have to keep Shirakumo on the straight and narrow. Part of his rehabilitation is giving him someone to look after.”

“And you picked me?”

“Yeah. He knows you, you look pathetic as all hell, and you’re the closest he’s going to get to Shigaraki in this lifetime.” The blond man rolls his eyes. “Somebody who’s not me decided that the constant information leakage is less important than helping him feel like himself again.”

You agree with them, whoever they are. It’s not like you have anyone to tell. “Who’s himself?”

“Shirakumo?” The blond man raises his eyebrows. “Why should I tell you that?”

“There’s not much else to talk about in here,” you say. “You ask me about the bullets every time. My answer doesn’t change.”

“Because it’s true.” The blond man rolls his eyes, like he does every time, then hits you with the last thing you were expecting him to say. “It is true. The bullets haven’t made an appearance in any battle but the first one, and nobody we’ve captured from your side has known the first thing about them. Even the highest-ranking creep we bagged — silver hair, blue eyes, bad attitude —”

“Ice bitch.”

Your interrogator wheezes. “What?”

If you ever see Dabi again, you’re going to tell him about this. You clam up, and after a few seconds of poorly muffled laughter, your interrogator sobers up. “Even he doesn’t know about where the bullets came from,” he says. “So either it’s somebody we’ve never heard of making them, who’s suddenly stopped in spite of the fact that they’d be an invaluable weapon in this war, or you’re a mad scientist in addition to being Shigaraki’s quirkless arm candy. Which is it?”

“I answered you the first time we talked,” you say. “The answer hasn’t changed.”

“Well, the questions are about to. How’d you do it?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Things will maybe go a little easier for you once this is over if I can tell the prosecution that you cooperated,” your interrogator says. “And since we just found out you haven’t been lying to us the entire time, your case for being a trustworthy source is pretty good.”

You are a trustworthy source. You haven’t lied at all. But you don’t buy your interrogator’s change of tune for a second. “Are you hoping to make some of the bullets yourself?”

“Are you joking? We’re not all savages like you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “I know the charges you’re holding me on. There’s some serious stuff in there. But it’s taking quirks away that makes me a savage? Those are some messed-up priorities you’ve got there.”

“Someone who��s quirkless wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand just fine,” you say. “I understand that you’re asking me how I made them to see if you can reverse the process.”

Your interrogator stays quiet for once. You can’t tell if you’ve thrown him or not, but you can’t resist taking a final potshot. “You’re at war. You aren’t winning. And you’re here questioning me about how to get four people their quirks back. Like I said — your priorities are really messed up.”

“Four people,” your interrogator repeats. “You hit five.”

“Four confirmed quirk cancelations. I’m pretty sure Eraserhead cut his hand off in time, and I didn’t get a chance to shoot him again.”

“Oh, so you would have?” A spark of anger flares in your interrogator’s face. “It wasn’t enough to end two students’ careers before they began? You had to take out a hero, too?”

“I’m not the one who brought kids to fight a war,” you say. You’ve triggered something here. You don’t know what it is. “Targeting Eraserhead wasn’t personal. It was strategy.”

“You just said you were going to shoot him again. Didn’t you trust your bullets to work on the first shot?”

No, you didn’t. You didn’t end up adding All For One to the mix inside them, which means there was a time lag of about four seconds before the cancelation occurred. Eraserhead almost certainly cut his hand off in time. “I wanted to make sure.”

“You disgust me.” The interrogator laughs. It’s an awful sound. “You’re quirkless. The world you live in would be hell if it wasn’t for heroes. Your life has probably been saved by heroes more times than you can count. And how do you repay us? By quite literally hopping into bed with the villains and —”

“Repay you?” You can’t lose your temper. You can’t. “Being a hero is a choice you made. I didn’t ask you to do it. And I’m going to take a wild guess that you didn’t choose to become a hero just out of the goodness of your heart. There’s big money in being a hero, isn’t there, Present Mic?”

You weren’t quite sure when you said the name, but Present Mic makes a mocking bow. You keep talking. “The government takes my taxes and pays you to be a hero, and you make money off your radio show and sponsorships, but that’s not enough, is it? I’m supposed to kiss the ground you walk on, too?”

“Given where your mouth has been, I don’t want you kissing anything I’m going to touch.” Present Mic’s mouth distorts into a sneer. “Lifting the Hero Killer’s talking points now, are we? Have you ever had an original thought in your life?”

“Have you?” you fire back. “Villains don’t just fall from the sky. Society creates them. You have to, or else you and Eraserhead would both be out of a job.”

“And now we get to it,” Present Mic says. “I’ve been wondering how somebody who looks like the dictionary definition of civilian could justify siding with Shigaraki. You’re going with the “it’s our fault for not saving him” defense? Really?”

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit.” That should be enough, but the words slip out of your mouth anyway. “It’s my fault, too.”

Present Mic gives you a weird look, opens his mouth — and then his phone pings. He glances down at it, and when he looks up, his expression is full of rage. “That abomination you’re defending just obliterated Yokohama. Why don’t you stop pontificating and start telling me exactly how to get the heroes you crippled back into the field?”

Yokohama’s gone. Your apartment’s gone, the clinic’s gone, your friends’ houses are gone. Are your friends gone, too? Did they get out? You sink your fingernails into your palm and try not to let it show. “You’re a hero. You’re fighting a war, and you’re losing. Why are you wasting time talking to me?”

Present Mic’s eyes flash. A low hum travels through the air, and for a moment, you’re certain he’s about to unleash his quirk on you. Then the air stills. “You’re right, Saintess. You are a waste of time.” He turns to leave the room, throwing the words back over his shoulder. “Midoriya should have let you fall.”

You’ve been wondering who caught you. Which of the heroes would see a falling villain, a villain who’d just crippled a beloved hero, and decide it was worth it to catch her. You’d assumed it was someone who was thinking of your strategic value — if Hawks saw you as important enough to use, then clearly you were worth keeping around. But somehow you don’t think that was Midoriya’s reasoning. Everything you know about Midoriya Izuku, everything you’ve heard Toga swoon over or listened to Tenko bitch about, tells you that Midoriya Izuku acts on instinct. He wasn’t thinking about strategy when he saved you. He saw someone in trouble and wanted to help.

That reminds you of someone else, too. Someone who’s just wiped the city you found each other in off the map. You dig your nails deeper into your palm and wait for the guards to bring you back to your cell.

But they don’t come back. You sit there for ten minutes. Half an hour. Two hours. No one comes for you. You aren’t chained to your chair — you can move around — but when you try the door, it’s locked. There’s nothing in the room but your chair and the one Present Mic usually sits in. Four hours. There aren’t windows, either. Five. Six. Seven.

You’re hungry, and thirsty. Something must have happened to Tenko in the battle for Yokohama, because your heart is racing at a hundred and forty beats per minute, and no matter what you do, you can’t catch your breath. You lie down on the floor as spots fill your vision, elevating your legs to try to keep some blood flowing to your head, and stare up at the ceiling. The connection between you and Tenko is omnipresent, but blind. You can’t see where he is, feel what he feels, know what he’s thinking. All you have are memories.

Tenko didn’t use to have nightmares. Not as a kid, not when you met him as an adult — but after he came back from receiving the quirks, he did. You always knew when he had one, because he’d lie there shaking in the dark for long moments before he turned to you. It felt like he was trying to drown himself in you afterwards, sometimes with sex, sometimes through kissing, sometimes just by crawling into your arms and holding you tightly enough to make your bones ache. If he stayed awake long enough, he’d tell you what he dreamed about. Never the whole dream. You knew that by the way he hesitated. But enough of it to give you nightmares, too, if you didn’t already have your own.

It was the quirks. Even the copied quirks carried imprints of the last moments their owners possessed them, and sometimes a little more than that — and the last moments before a person’s quirk was stolen by All For One were terrifying. You remember holding Tenko close in the dark, your body folded around his, trying to soothe him. “It didn’t happen to you,” you remember saying. “You’re safe.”

“It happened to them.” Tenko sunk back into your arms, pressing even closer. “When this is over. Promise.”

“Promise what?”

“You’ll take them away.” Tenko’s voice caught for a split second, then blurred almost into incoherence. “I don’t want them anymore.”

You didn’t even know where you’d start. “Tenko —”

“Promise.”

“I promise,” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Tenko settled even closer, already falling asleep. You were glad he could sleep. At least one of you needed to rest.

You didn’t know how, but you started thinking about it. You’re still thinking about it now — how to remove the quirks the doctor transplanted into Tenko, which ones you’d leave, which ones he’d let you leave. Would he want Decay gone, too? How would you get rid of something that’s in his hands? You don’t know. But there has to be a way. As the hours tick past, you let it consume you, the question of how you’ll bring Tenko back to himself, how you’ll make sure the nightmares leave him for good. He’s winning the war. You’ll find each other again. Everything will be fine. If you tell yourself that enough times, maybe it’ll come true.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but when you wake up again, you aren’t in the classroom anymore. You aren’t in your cell, either, or in the room where you first woke up after you were captured. You’re in what looks like a proper infirmary, with softly painted walls and multiple beds. The ones that are occupied have curtains drawn around them, and you can hear the soft hum of life support machines. You’re not on life support, are you? You raise your hand to your face, surprised to find that you aren’t being restrained, and find a cannula tucked under your nose, again. That’s not great. But it’s not life support, either.

“You’re in our medical bay,” a weirdly familiar voice says from next to you. You glance over at the chair next to your bed and nearly jump out of your skin.

It’s All Might. All Might is sitting there, looking like a skeleton with a mop of blond hair, eyes sunken and shadowed, with a file and a tablet folded in his lap and what looks like a nurse’s call button in his hand.

<- Chapter 25

taglist: @frog-fans-unite @enyaaa2222 @tannyr98 @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69 @f3r4lfr0gg3r @lvtuss @issaortiz @evilcookie5 @aslutforfictionalmen @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @koohiii @cheeseonatower @shikiblessed @warxhammer @agente707 @handumb @boogiemansbitch @baking-ghoul @atspiss

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Asurenda

CR 20

Lawful Evil Huge Outsider

Bestiary 3, pg. 24-25

As one may guess from its name, the Asurenda is the paragon of the Asura, creatures who are quite literally the mistakes of the gods given form and mind. Every time a god made a mistake of hideous enough consequence, it was akin to carving a wound into the universe, and something spilled from that mistake as surely as blood would flow from cut flesh, closing the wound but leaving behind a living reminder of the folly. In a twisted way, the asura represent the scars left on the universe from the careless damage done by the divine, something that can never be removed, only hidden and hopefully forgotten... but some mistakes refuse to be buried.

One could consider the asura to be a living punishment, a monument to the sins of the divine, because the asura certainly see themselves that way! There are few beings in the Great Beyond who can walk the walk of such an intimidating boast, but the asura can, and above the rest of their kind stands the Asurenda, below only the Asura Rana in terms of power and influence. A glance at an Asurenda's statblock reveals a truly anomalous amount of power, even compared to other CR 20 "capstone" Outsiders like the Akvan or the Pit Fiends, a--holy crap is that really all I wrote on Pit Fiends? I was so succinct back then. Anyway, even compared to the likes of their fellow capstone bosses the Asurenda is loaded, with a spell list straight out of a sadistic GMs notebook (and the superhuman intelligence needed to utilize them like a sadistic GM), enough attacks for the players to take a snack break while they resolve, more skill ranks than some parties put together, AND whopping six bonus feats to shore up some of their extremely few weaknesses!

Thankfully, Asurenda spend the majority of their existence sitting inside of abandoned temples to lost or forgotten gods, meditating upon the mysteries of the universe (and how best to unravel it) for decades or centuries at a time, but even this is dangerous for the world as they issue telepathic commands (or use their 3/day Demand) to direct and/or manipulate their mortal agents. In statuesque solemnity, an Asurenda may literally not have to lift a finger to destroy a city, and that suits them just fine; they're saving their energy to enact truly apocalyptic displays of disdain for the divine. Anything less than this can be delegated to dregs and drudges. For any cults that rise around one of these meditating malefactors, their figurehead doing as little as opening an eye is a sign that something dramatic is about to happen... to say nothing of what happens when it stands up, and the players responsible for stirring it into motion have its destructive musings put into practice upon their sorry carcasses.

We'll start with a few of the Asurenda's defenses. At their most basic, they're protected from many weapons with DR 15/Chaotic and Good, and weapon capable of piercing this DR is absolutely necessary, because their Regeneration 10 can only be shut off from a Good-aligned weapon or a spell with the [Good] descriptor. Spells, however, must contend with the "Capstone Standard" 31 Spell Resistance (all of the capstone outsiders have it!). Their size means they actually have less AC than most of their fellow capstones at 35, but they don't need it quite as much due to their offense putting their foes on the defensive. We'll get to that in a moment, because we still have a few defenses to talk about!

Though the pictured example doesn't make it immediately obvious, Asurenda tend to have faces encircling their head. This grants them All-Around Vision, rendering it immune to being flanked and denying the easy burst damage most Sneak Attackers rely on (though flat damage from Guys With Swords still applies as easily as one can beat its AC). They have a glaring weakness to elemental damage, with their only defense a meager 10 Resistance to Acid and Electricity and no elemental immunities at all, but they are immune to being cursed or polymorphed, and any Enchantment effects making it past their 31 SR have to contend with their additional +2 to saves versus Enchantments. It's not much, but their saves are ALREADY high (+25/+17/+20), so the extra +2 may be just the edge they need.

As all asura, they are protected by an Elusive Aura, a 100ft-wide barrier that bars all forms of detection and divination, preventing any curious party from pulling a Scry and Die on them... not that it would work anyway, since Asurenda specifically also project a 20ft bubble of Dimensional Lock, which prevents all forms of teleportation and magical displacement from working and prevents the normally-reliable Gates and Mazes from functioning... while also canceling out reliable defensive spells like Blink, and escape or engagement tools like Dimension Door. No, once you're in melee with this thing, there's no magical way out of it. Also, this lock only affects the Asurenda's enemies; IT can freely teleport (via Greater Teleport) and call for aid (via 1/day Summon Asura), as can its allies.

With a permanent True Seeing effect on itself, an Asurenda is free to drop its 3/day Deeper Darkness right into its own space to confound any party that can't pierce the supernatural dark, leaving them open to getting trapped in its frightening melee radius of 30ft (15 space, 15 reach). An Asurenda's numerous arms aren't for show: all six of them can hit for 2d6+13 damage a round, and each blow threatens to stick the victim with a Curse of False Wisdom, a curse that causes the afflicted to believe they've uncovered some deep and meaningful truth in the universe even as it drains 1d6 Wisdom from them each day. While unlikely to mean much in the battle, it's an inconvenience once the battle ends, one way or another. With a DC 31 Will save needed to avoid it and the ability to fling it out up to six times a round, an Asurenda can afflict the entire team with its curse and its damage at the same time, assuring its presence harms them here and now, AND later if they manage to survive!

But it's a big "if." Asurenda don't just have claws, they can rear down and bite someone for 2d6+13 damage. The damage is no higher than their claws, but the bite also injects a poison into the victim that deals 1d6 Con damage each round for up to 6 rounds if the target fails their DC 33 Fortitude save. Worse than the poison, however, is that the bite Grabs anyone it hits, and if you thought these monks of desolation were above dirty tricks, you're sorely mistaken. Anyone who can't break the Asurenda's grapple before the horror's next turn can be swallowed into a gut where profane forces batter and bludgeon them each round, dealing 4d6+19 bludgeoning and 4d8+12 Acid damage, assuring there's no true loss of damage if it takes a moment to gulp down a foe before getting back to mauling the rest of the party.

Giving up a moment to swallow a foe still doesn't mean safety for everyone else, nor does somehow escaping its massive melee radius, as it can still wander up to a cluster of foes and use Great Cleave to spread damage, curses, and poisons around, AND finish off a cleaving bite by Grabbing someone else. Even funnier is that Asurenda have Spring Attack as a bonus feat, letting them skitter up to someone on their nightmare of limbs, bite and Grab them, and then skitter away, dragging them along. This is even more dangerous than you'd think, because they have a decent 50ft of speed... in every movement mode but burrowing, making them TRULY all-terrain but also meaning a Grabbed victim may be pulled up a wall, underwater, or even straight into the air, making it more difficult to rescue them and more painful to actually escape.

While the party should have a way to take to the skies by the time they can expect to fight an Asurenda, the monks still have more tricks. Like many capstone Outsiders, they can use Greater Dispel Magic at-will to strip their foes of any flight-granting magic, and all the while their superior size and reach allows them to rain blows down from above. Firing at them from a range is an exercise in frustration, because Paizo took one look at their numerous limbs and decided to put them to work by granting them Deflect Arrows and Snatch Arrows as bonus feats, allowing them to block one ranged attack a round and even throw it right back if they feel like it. ONE ranged attack may not seem like much when a dedicated archer can fire six to eight attacks a round, but it's a frustrating drop in damage when the boss' AC keeps every attack from hitting and its DR keeps many from doing meaningful damage, and the first one that does BOTH gets blocked... to say nothing of the poor Alchemists throwing their Bombs, because if one of THOSE gets grabbed and hurled back into the party, it's going to hurt everyone.

And all this time, I haven't really gotten into the meatiest part of the Asurenda's kit! The REAL reasons that they're so dangerous. No, no, their melee is impressive and scary, but it's not the true reason they're final-boss-worthy! The impressive thing is that the Asurenda are excellent multitaskers with a bunch of spells that let them engage multiple party members at once... with Time Stop available 1/day to give them the time they need to set it all up. In stopped time, the Asurenda is free to set up all the darkness it needs, pop in a bunch of its 3/day Quickened Blade Barriers along the battlefield (it COULD do it outside of stopped time, but it's more efficient this way), get its Summon Asura (one CR 19 or below Asura) out of the way, and then finally conjure its menagerie of Spirit Blades.

Upwards to six of these blades can be conjured as a swift action, but the Asurenda must sacrifice either its standard action to direct one blade, or its full-round action to direct all of them at once, something a little too punishing to do outside of Time Stop but still possible if it begins combat outside the party's reach. Once these blades have been directed at a target, they relentlessly attack that target once a round with a +29 to hit, dealing 3d6+7 damage per hit. Each blade CAN be directed at a different target, but the way the ability is worded suggests that multiple blades can also attack a single target, allowing the fiend to focus down a single enemy with all six if it feels like it. The blades cannot be interacted with unless hit with Disintegrate or a similarly powerful effect that can destroy force constructs, so they're going to be constant in the battle, slowly cutting down whoever they're assigned to unless the victim takes the time to move more than 50ft away from the Asurenda to dissolve the blade.

You know! Just move out of its melee, through its Blade Barriers, and pray it doesn't just follow you to keep the blade going. Easy!

With the ability to keep the DPS up and engage the entire party at once with a single action, the Asurenda are already powerful enough, but what if I told you that it gets worse? Because there's still three spells I haven't talked about: Quickened Death Knell at 3/day, Quickened Baleful Polymorph at 3/day, and finally a 1/day Power Word Stun. Asurenda are directly noted in the book to assure the total destruction of their foes, and will take a moment in combat to swallow unconscious enemies whole, but if they're pressed for time, they can simply use their Quickened Death Knell to instantly kill someone hovering on the border of death AND empower themselves in one fell swoop. It's even worse if the thing drops someone with its Full-Attack and THEN uses Knell, because it gives the party no chance to respond to the sudden loss! If there's a particularly annoying low-Fort fool around, the malicious monks lose nothing but a spell-like by trying to target them with Quickened Baleful Polymorph; at worst they can still attack, and at best they've completely removed an enemy from combat until the affliction is reversed.

But then there's Power Word Stun. It's no Kill, but it still has a chance of shutting someone out of their turns for anywhere from 1 to 16 rounds if their HP is low enough with no offer of a saving throw and no way to dodge it unless the target is immune to compulsion or mind-affecting effects. Not even the reliable Freedom of Movement can protect someone from the stun! Only being above the HP threshold works to prevent it and only Enchantment-breaking effects remove it, and the Asurenda are both smart and wise enough to hold back until it can be used for its maximum impact.

So, let's see here: Can fight the entire party at once, can control the shape of the battlefield and deny the party coordination, can move unrestricted across any obstacle, or terrain, can instantly kill someone who thought "the only HP that matters is the last one," cannot be magically fled from, has a potent Save-or-Suck that takes a swift action AND ALSO it has a powerful Full-Attack? AND it even poisons? The universe is quite lucky that so many of these Wise Ones are content to spend their time meditating on the perfect plan rather than enacting it, because once they start to move, there are few forces in creation that can stop them.

... except Dominate Monster, all death effects, sleep effects, being stunned... There are a few ways a party can stand up to them, but that requires A) getting through their SR and saves, and B) surviving the retaliation when these attempts fail. Good luck!

You can read more about them here.

[sevenpoyo]

MILES G. MORALES CURRENT STUDENT INVOLVEMENT FILE

>LOG IN CONFIRMED >LOG IN TIME RECORDED >HELLO . >GUEST STAFF!< Notes for new office staff• •OOD- out of dorm. •All updated files will appear italicized until the new information can be confirmed and encrypted properly! Let’s all work hard to have a good year! —————————————————————— Let’s work as a team to keep our files and records secure and up to date! Double encrypt ALL files not related to regulatory procedures. Thank you! —Your Visions Brooklyn branch office staff♡!

Miles G. Morales

Currently a student of Future Visions Private Academy for the preparation of the practically and speculatively advanced, or, the last light of Brooklyn as some call it.

Miles doesn’t call it that.

Miles G. Morales, is a student at Future Visions Private Academy that some teachers don’t particularly enjoy having.

In true clarity, the majority of his instructor at Visions Academy for the Technically and Practically skilled do not like Miles Morales. 

And in their very socially esteemed opinion, he doesn’t make himself easy for them to like,

not when his uncle picks him up from a class of checks him out of his dorm at least twice a week, for reasons only cited as, “bonding activities”

or when he’s ahead in his work, but distracted or even disinterested in their classes, like he has something better to do.

or when the head of the English department is convinced that he’s sneaking out and his roommate and best friend is covering for him, though, he has no conclusive proof.

Still, it’s a point to be mentioned.

or when, most offensive of all, when desperate all this he’s easily outclassing their best, their legacy students, 

These students whose families have oh so generously donated club rooms and gyms to the school.

It’s absurd really, these students have been training to be the best, training to keep people like him in their proper place in the social order. he’s supposed to be one of those people that are smart enough to use, 

but for some reason it’s as if he’s read that version of his story, carved in stone, created from the day he was born or the day he became who he are, or whenever, and in some insane, incalculable bid of rebellion, he’s spray painted over it.

But, the words are still on the stone under his colorful, creative rebellion,

And maybe his fate can’t be changed.

maybe no ones can be.

FILE UNLOCKED!

GENERAL STUDENT INFO

NAME- Miles G. Morales

CURENT GRADE LEVEL- 10

CLASS SCHEDULE- currently unentered due to re-enrollment issues.

BEHAVIORAL RECORDS - N/A

TRUANCY RECORDS - Chronically absent, not currently a candidate for any teacher/guardian involvement.

VISIONS SCHOLAR LOG

Enrolled as one of Brooklyn’s 2022 lottery students. 

maintained grades to hold lottery enrollment 

Currently dormmed part time, should be making plans to transfer full time.

FRESHMAN YEAR EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES- N/A

SOPHOMORE YEAR EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES- Engineering and Technology/ Robotics Comp • mandatory OOD student participation

GUARDIAN SIGN IN/OUT LIST

Rio Morales— mother PRIMARY CONTACT

cell-********** work-**********-4221 (hospital extension)

Aaron Davis—paternal uncle

OTHER/PERSONAL NOTES

Nothing of note personal

some transfer files incorrectly marked as Wiles, please disregard.

FILE END

make sure to save updates and inform I.T.!

BYE BYE!!-☆♪

I know Miles G. Probably doesn’t go to visions bc the whole burning and overrun city thing but I like school settings in fics and visions is such an underused setting for e-42 world building. I swear someone could cook with this and it’s gonna have to be me because if no one else will I’m gonna write what I wanna read. Haven’t decided 100% when I’ll introduce a reader but if I do it’ll switch between being centered on miles and the reader.

[aesterblaster]

Bad Dogs Can Learn New Tricks

Which Blue Lock Characters Have Gone To Therapy, In My Humble Opinion. (+ Who Desperately Needs To But Hasn't + Who Might In The Future)

Warnings: Some spoilers for way past the U-20 Arc, also not an extensive list of characters, honestly kind of funny. I wasn't trying to be TOO serious

Songs: Falling Behind / Laufey , The Main Character / Will Wood , Nothing's New / Rio Romeo

Has Gone To Therapy And Loves Their Therapist Gang

-Anri, There is no way she is able to have that much patience and take that much shit from corporate without having a therapist. I think she uses like 1/5th of her paycheck on books about improving your life and stuff like that LMAO. Her therapist is also a woman so it helps her to have someone who understands her frustrations with not really getting credit despite being one of the founders of Blue Lock. Also sometimes she gets worried she's unethical towards the boys so that weighs on her.

-Kenyu, Look it's still in progress ok? He was just starting before he came to Blue Lock. Once he realized he was going to lose his vision he started working with a professional and found it really helpful. In fact they were the one who encouraged him to go after Blue Lock in the first place. One of the reasons he was so quick to say sorry to Isagi is because he has those #coping skills.

-Gagumaru, After having a run in with a bear in the woods he kept having nightmares and his parents made him go to therapy. Well it was kindddd of therapy..it was a hippie who's a family friend. That doesn't mean he doesn't know grounding techniques. He even taught Naruhaya how to calm down from a panic attack once. But yeah, he doesn't really tell people that he went to therapy

-Snuffy, After his best friend's death he went to therapy ASAP. The type to only call his therapist once every 5 months and still have a rock solid relationship with them. His therapist helped him break his womanizing habit and realize that he's enough all on his own. 100% did some soul searching and stepped away from the scene. He also combined the therapist with a personal trainer to really max out his healing process. 100/10 dude for it.

"I Have Gone To Therapy And It Didn't Work" Crew

-Chigiri, Similar to Kenyu, his parents thought he might need some mental health help after the trauma of thinking he'd never be an athlete again. But he was one of those cold shoulder my mom is forcing me to do this cases. He never actually worked through what he might do if this whole thing falls through. Also snarkiness 100, his therapist almost quit because he was so insulting to them. Chigiri just felt ashamed that his parents even thought he should go in the first place and convinced his sister to also beg them to stop taking him lmao.

-Isagi, Okay at some point his parents realize he takes faliure wayyy too hard and tried to get him in therapy. When he talked to the therapist though the dude was like "Yeah, he's just competitive. Nothing wrong here." Alas, he's been masking for so long that he's incapable of revealing his issues to anyone who hasn't known him for 3 years or plays sports with him. Also, he convinced himself he doesn't need it and then idly imagines just going apeshit and killing his enemies to cope with stress...like bro...

-Noa, Why do you think he gets along with Isagi? All jokes aside, his PR people probably asked him to do it and he went and then secretly never went back. It honestly didn't work because he wasn't willing to give it a chance. And still isn't!!!! Would rather backflip off of a yacht than tell someone in a lounge chair about how growing up in intense poverty still haunts him sometimes, makes him question his worth and avoid conflict in day to day life. Sometimes he wonders if one day he'll wake up and find out it was all a dream....But nah he doesn't need therapy!

-Oliver, He was soooo close to actually getting his mental health in check but then his therapist retired. After that he got another really seasoned one and saw the amount of case files in his desk and just felt like a straight up burden. One of those "other people have it worse" and "it is what it is" guys. He's very open about his emotions and feelings so he just talks to his friends when he's really struggling. (Even though Sendou never says the right things-) Like yeah it's their job but why bug these nice people when sex?? Why talk about issues in sessions when he can get drunk or go train for 4 hours??? Riddle him that?

The "I Need Therapy And I Know It" Team

-Ness, He has so many fucking issues. Honestly, despite his devout worship of Kaiser he does realize that his behavior isn't quite healthy or normal. Dude tries to show you a funny video on his phone and all of his ads are for Betterhelp. Genuinely trying to figure out a diagnosis. Yes he has looked up all sorts of personality disorders and no he doesn't think he has any of them (He has at least two). But again, Ness is self aware enough to know that some help or someone to talk to who sees him as an actual human being would be nice.

-Niko, He cannonicaly describes himself as very very introverted and nerdy, also he hides his face. Tell me you were bullied in school or at least had an extremely traumatizing incident without telling me. Kind of never had anyone, just people who hung around because of his soccer skill or avoided him like the plague. He is that guy who will rant about "society" online for hours and fantasize about moving to a different country thinking he'd get better treatment there. Cripplingly lonely and self conscious at the end of the day, in all honesty. Also he genuinely wants a therapist but just can't afford one.

-Hiori, Obviously his parents are the ones who stop him. He tries to go and his mom realizes where he's making her drive him and swerves off. Even when he gets his license, you just know they're tracking everywhere he goes. He doesn't have enough privacy to really get better like that, Hiori has to wait until he moves out. Still genuinely fucked up by the fact that Gagumaru has gotten therapy and he hasn't. Just listens to emo music and plays video games and pretends that that fixes everything. He's totally releasing a top-selling book about his horrible childhood after Blue Lock.

-Bachira, Is he outgoing and silly? Yes. Does he need better coping skills? Also yes. Men will tell you the most horrible and traumatizing childhood memories about getting jumped and then laugh it off, and it's him, Bachira is men. He ties to brush off his trauma with humor but it never really works. He knows that he genuinely needs to talk to someone other than Isagi or his mom about the Monster and how it was by his side for so long. But also never goes through with getting professional help, just thinks about it sometimes.

The "What's Therapy? Fuck You!" Group

-Kaiser, Oh god, don't even suggest it to him. I headcannon that mental illness kind of runs in his family. He's watched family members be taken away for being too out there and openly mentally ill so he has a reason to not trust doctors. Just associates therapy and things like it with abusive institutions. If he told a therapist all of his issues, he'd probably be sent to a psyche ward. Just the threat of being sent there single handedly kept him from killing himself or talking about his feelings when he was younger. He will continue to just be slightly abusive to the people around him thank you very much.

-Ego, Bro's got the government banning him from soccer and you think he's thinking of therapy? When Anri tells him he needs it offhand, he's like, revenge is my therapy. Insane as fuck but thinks that it's a good thing. He is not willing to talk about his issues to anyone, but especially not someone who will write it all down. Genuinely ruined a few relationships in his past because the main people he attracts are the "I Can Fix Him" people and it just never works. Suprisingly unself aware for how much he analyzes others.

-Barou, His main issue is just shame and failed gifted kid syndrome. But as soon as he's back up he's convinced he doesn't need help. Barou suffers from really high highs and really low lows but he also has the mental fortitude to handle it. He is a well adjusted and kind enough person outside of the soccer field so he never considers that he needs therapy. When he feels bad about himself he hits the gym but he's never really opened up to anyone and he sure isn't going to start once he gets more famous. Especially when he's seen as one of the best right now, can't risk his reputation.

-Rin, He's would rather gut himself with a sword than admit that his mental illness doesn't make him a cool loner wolf and just a lonely person who hasn't healed his inner child. Kind of just wants someone to baby him and tell him everything's going to be alright but in the mean time his barriers are up 24/7. He disdains therapy, thinks that he'd just be seen as a pay check and he kind of isn't wrong. Rin would rather pay money for expensive cleats than spend it for someone to suggest him breathing exercises. He also had a traumacore phase, but he'd rather not talk about it.

[dayntee]

So I finished Veilguard a while back, and of course I have thoughts. I'm sure none of them are original and have been plenty stated, but hey, we all need to mourn a game when we're done with it for better or worse, so here's mine.

Note: I wrote and queued this before I was aware of the layoffs at Bioware today. This is, in no way, meant to rub salt in the wound or point fingers. If anything, I'm gutted for the people who poured their heart into this game only to be found jobless today. I'm in the exact same position myself, and have nothing but empathy for the situation. To spoil what's below - I enjoyed my time with Veilguard. It could have been better, and if you're a dev that worked on it, you probably know that. I'm sorry it's turned out the way it has, but thank you for the experience regardless. It was a fun game.

Spoilers after the break, obviously. Be aware there will be discourse, but I'm not here specifically to bash. If anything, I'm actually still grateful for the experience.

Overall, I did enjoy my time with Veilguard. After all, my final save file was around the 85 hour mark, so clearly I had no issues continuing to sink time into the game. I itched to play when I wasn't, and I got my Solavellan ending I've been waiting 10 years for, and I damn near 100%'d the whole thing (including getting the hidden cinematic after the credits). So what went wrong? What did I not like? Why do I feel so… empty now that it's over?

If I were to summarize my issues and feelings with Veilguard, it's that it felt like it gave just enough to be passable content, but never committed to being a truly exemplary experience. In every way, from system design to companion design to overarching story to itemization, everything is fine… but not great.

Knowing that DAV went through development hell contextualizes a lot of these issues. If the art book is to be believed, the project had two full blown restart buttons pushed and many leadership handoffs. I've been in conversations, though, where folks ask "Why on earth could DA2 pull off a great storytelling experience, but DAV couldn't?"

There's something else at play, and after my own experiences in the game industry and squinting between the lines to try to glean what I think may have gone wrong, I have a hunch. Pure speculation ahead: I don't think leadership ever fully agreed on a committed vision.

The broad strokes are there, and they are strong:

The Lighthouse is a cool fucking hub. It grows with your group, responds to their needs, and shapes itself around you as you experience the world. The concept of this is dope AF.

The goal is closure on all the questions left unanswered after DAI. It does get to most of these, even if not as fully and as satisfying as some of us lore nerds would have liked.

Combat is fluid and pretty engaging (at least at first). It's simple, fun, and generally fulfills power fantasies well (for context, I specialized as a full Veil Jumper Archery Rogue).

WE GET TO EXPLORE NORTHERN THEDAS. This is so cool and a place we've all wanted to go for ages. TEVINTER. NEVARRA. WEISSHAUPT. All exciting prospects.

Level design and map design are pretty A+, imo. Landscapes and set dressings are beautiful and artfully crafted. Even if there are aspects of the visual design you disagree with, they committed to it and fulfilled it well.

Exploration is fun. I rarely hunt down every chest in a game. I could not stop treasure hunting for the life of me, and some of those hidden treasures felt really special and rewarding to uncover.

The cast of characters and factions you interact with are interesting and very different - from one another and from previous casts. It's nice to see some new tropes that either haven't been used or have been out of rotation for a while.

Solas is a good antagonist. He was before, and he still is, and biased Solasmancing aside - I always looked forward to the breaks in the game where I got to banter with the Egg.

Voice over cast is fantastic. I know some folks were less fond of non-British/American accents, but honestly, I was very fine with it. It reinforced that this part of Thedas, and this time in the overall storyline, is new and different. Thedas is changing, and so are its people.

All these things said - every single positive I have above feels like they were baseline requirements for a AAA Bioware RPG. That they don't go above and beyond these bare minimums is where the game feels like it fails, especially as a payoff for a critically acclaimed entry that's 10 years old and has a passionately dedicated fanbase.

A phrase I've been using a lot with folks is that DAV feels like the Lacroix of Dragon Age games. It's got the branding, it looks like Dragon Age, and it kind of tastes like Dragon Age, but… just barely. It leaves you feeling like it's lacking. It's a hint of it, and going back to drink it again doesn't quite satisfy you.

What we call this in game development is minimum viable product (MVP), which is usually trotted out at the point by production and/or leadership when you realize you've meandered on the project for so long that you just gotta ship something. This works if you're actually going to commit to polishing it up and continuing to make it better after launch for a live service game; fix it later is fine when that's a reasonable expectation.

But Veilguard walked back on that concept. It no longer was going to be live service, but a one-and-done, and the final, late pivot meant it just had less time to cook in its final form and likely a ton of wasted work that got chucked out. There are so many places where the experience feels like an alpha or beta version of what they actually wanted to do. The Lighthouse and Companions as a whole both exemplify this; they feel and look cool, but the experience of both are shallow and underdeveloped. They felt like they were missing something.

The most egregious issues, in my opinion, in no particular order:

Apologies in advance if they're your favorite, but Rook is probably the worst protagonist we've ever been given. Not because their concept is inherently bad, but because I couldn't really make them mine. Rook has no arc, makes few decisions that truly matter, and no moral conundrums barring maybe the Treviso/Minrathous decision. Even then—it feels like there's a right answer to that decision.

To explain: Minrathous gets fucked at the end of the game anyway. If you pick to save Minrathous, you've just doomed two metropolis level cities to excessive death and destruction AND locked yourself out of a potential romance option for no particular reason.

Rook's actions in Thedas also matter the least. The end state of the game is the same no matter what: the Evanuris fall, and the Veil is preserved. How you do it is largely immaterial. In every other game entry, shit can seriously go sideways and it's always directly because of your decisions.

Companion arcs are largely shallow and so reliant on Rook, they fail to feel real. Some of these arcs are more egregious in this manner than others, and some of them have truly excellent stories to tell (oh, hi there Emmrich). But even with the best arcs, this person asks you to make utterly life-altering decisions for them and you've probably known them for like a month or two at best. It just doesn't feel like I, as the PC, have the right to make that call, or that I've earned it. There's not enough time nor enough high stakes prior to those moment.

I won't beat this one to death, but the limited amount of previous choices not mattering in this entry hurts, and I know how complicated it would have been to explore all of them. That said, there were a few that had a ton of specific investment that deserved better resolution: Kieran in particular would have mattered so fucking much if he existed as canon. I understand that's the crux of the problem, but it makes it so that if he was part of your world state in both DAO and DAI, his absence is all the more noticeable.

The South being destroyed off-screen through text will never not bother me. The Inquisitor is apparently faffing about doing fuck all with the resources they've built over time, especially if they chose not to disband the Inquisition. They didn't chase after Solas, who they knew was going to be a problem, and then they ALSO let the South fall? I'm sorry - it does a hero that the majority of this fandom is most likely heavily invested in the worst service no matter which way you look at it.

Veilguard feels like a game that couldn't get out of its own way. The part that has me grieving the most is that you can see under the surface a great game was there, but just not fully realized.

Without being one of the people who made the game, we can only speculate and can't presume the cause for why we got what we did. Hell, as someone who works in game development, sometimes you never get the answer yourself as to why things went so horribly sideways. The larger the game and studio, the more blind spots you're likely going to have on the overall project.  That said, I have nothing but empathy for the Veilguard team. It's very clear that at least the majority of folks working on it poured in a ton of work and cared a lot about it.

It's not my place to blame anyone in particular for it, because I don't have the first-hand knowledge necessary to cast that judgement. I hope the folks who worked on this don't let it get them too down; you still made a fun game. And I'm sure you're just as disappointed it wasn't the love letter to Dragon Age that you probably wanted it to be, as much as any of us fans who feel it didn't meet the bar.

You had an impossible job to do; the expectations here were so high, and you had more obstacles than any dev team should reasonably have during their project, regardless of the expected fires we all run into during development. Despite that, I still had fun, and I still care quite a bit about these characters.

That's worth something. Thank you for the experience.

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Predictions

So we’ve been speculating wildly what the remainder of The Sandman might look like on here and in our community (join us!) for a while.

And I thought it would be fun to put my predictions to paper (so to speak) so I can be embarrassed about them later and laugh at how wrong they were 🙈

Taking all the casting announcements and BTS in consideration I’ve collected like a magpie (check out my #sandman S2 tag), I will have a stab at it…

Only 12 Episodes or Aiming for Renewal?

Both is possible, but I am more and more leaning we’ll get the whole thing in twelve episodes in two batches of five each with two wraparound episodes (one will be AGoY/THCoL in the middle, one the last three issues of The Wake).

We know the episode names for six episodes that are directed by Jamie Childs. That doesn’t mean they were in order, or that there won’t be other directors involved. It wouldn’t surprise me if they at least went for female writers/directors for AGoY/THCoL, and if that’ll be the episode that separates (or rather connects) SoM and Brief Lives. So here comes my totally unhinged prediction for 12 episodes, including the titles we know (mind you, they might also be working titles). The chapters from the comics are to be seen as fluid and not absolute, because there are a lot of scenes that are not linear in chronological terms and will probably be shuffled around a bit:

Batch One

“More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold” (that title is a direct quote from AMND): A Midsummer Night’s Dream, SoM Prologue & Tales in the Sand flashback

“Season of Mists”: SoM ch. 1-3, ch. 4 is getting dropped

“The Ruler of Hell”: SoM ch. 5 through Epilogue

TBA: AGoY & THCoL “Brief Lives”: Brief Lives ch. 1-3. Maybe the first parts of Thermidor (could also be ep. 5).

“Brief Lives”: Brief Lives ch. 1-5 “The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 4-6 and The Song of Orpheus segueing into

“The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 6. Bast is an excellent cut to SoO. “Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9. Parts of Thermidor will also be in there.

Batch Two

“Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9 TBA: TKO ch. 1-4

TBA: TKO ch. 1-4 TBA: TKO ch. 5-7

TBA: TKO ch. 5-8 TBA: TKO ch. 8-10

TBA: TKO ch. 11-13

TBA: The Wake (all of it apart from…)

TBA: Sunday Mourning/Exiles/The Tempest

Edit 19/09:

[strikeouts in text done on same day]

So I’ve read The High Cost of Living again over the past few days because it didn’t want to leave me alone, and I’ve now convinced myself we’ll get it as a side-plot to Brief Lives in episodes 4-6, and that we’ll get tiny bits of AGoY, (mostly to set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives and Hazel/Foxglove for THCoL) as a side plot to SoM in episodes 1-3. Spoilers ahead, so skip if that’s not your thing:

Both Sexton and Orpheus have a death wish. I don’t want to drag this out too much because the post is long enough as it is, but suffice it to say, Sexton rethinks after spending a day with Didi/Death, while Orpheus is granted his wish. And this is what ultimately sets Morpheus on his own path. The meaning of “So live” would be beautifully contrasted that way because it has different meaning to different people, depending on their own experience. Add to that Death spending a “brief life” for one day herself, and I can somewhat see the vision.

Failing this, THCoL could also be a special in episode 13 that hasn’t been announced yet (I’d rather have Overture though if I’m honest).

In more detail:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest will be bookends, one before SoM, one after The Wake (they don’t necessarily have to be full episodes, they could be half each and make up roughly an hour combined. It really depends on overall runtime).

We’ll kick off batch one with Season of Mists (maybe the prologue and will also be in episode 1–there are several points in AMND that would make good cuts into SoM), and Tales in the Sand won’t be a full episode but incorporated as flashbacks (maybe around the family dinner). After we conclude SoM, we’ll get one episode of AGoY will be a side-plot to SoM, as per above (if it happens at all), and leads into THCoL as a side-plot to Brief Lives as per my edit above, because there’s a through-line in there for Fox and Hazel, plus we can set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives.

Bonus 1:

Johanna will be somehow involved in SoM (she’s the Hellblazer after all), and we’ll get her to hook up with Murphy. No need for a longwinded introduction of Thessaly. Or, failing that, we just cut out the love interest completely, Morpheus does his moping session because Nada rebuffs him again, but Jo will still take Thessaly’s place as the crone.

We’ll move into roughly three episodes of Song of Orpheus/Thermidor and Brief Lives from there. Wanda will die in Brief Lives like Ruby, not in AGoY.

We finish the first batch with Morpheus alone on his chair after you-know-what 😩

Second batch: TKO and The Wake. Little bits of World’s End will be woven in where it fits, maybe already in the first batch as well. Same goes for little bits of standalone issues from Fables and Reflections.

Jo will take Thessaly’s place and protect Lyta because she’d just believe it’s the right thing to do (she also sympathises because she lost Astra). Whether she also holds a deeper grudge depends on if they set them up as having an affair or not.

My guess is four episodes TKO and one for the Wake. Sunday Mourning and Exiles will be done in one episode. The movie concept art that Jill Thompson did ages ago showed Daniel in the distance on the beach with the other three, and I think that’s a good tie-in point to lead into Exiles. Even the Tempest might fit in there if they make the last episode more feature-length. And you’ve got your two Shakespeare bookends.

Bonus 2:

Hob will be reinstalled to his narrative purpose because at least half the fandom will drop him like a hot potato and ship Morpheus x Cluracan instead. Because:

If you think 12 episodes are tight: Yes, if you want to see every detail and issue of the comics. But not everything you see in a graphic novel translates well to screen, plus you don’t perceive time the same way. What takes ages to read can be something like 30 seconds in a film. Add to this that the movie that never happened was conceptualised as a trilogy if I’m not mistaken, so probably 6-8 hours planned runtime in total. So they always had a definite idea how to streamline it, and they were planning for it before. 12 episodes with 45 to 60min each give us more to play with than a movie-trilogy (plus we can already take the time off that we spent on S1). I think it’s doable, but of course it means tightening arcs and dropping stuff.

However, I’ll be honest with you: With all that’s been going on, and having seen that they filmed right through until the end, I’d rather have them wrap up now. Because I honestly can’t see a S3 happening after all that’s already been cancelled and put on hold because of you-know-what (I’m thinking of Disney shelving The Graveyard Book and Amazon putting GO on hold and sitting on the Audible despite it being finished).

But also: These decisions have likely been made long before these considerations even became an issue: Renewal was on a knife’s edge, and choices were made back then we can only guess at. Scripts aren’t written over night, neither are sets changed around wildly on a whim (plus actors aren’t just tied to one project and can’t just willy-nilly change their schedules). And some sets for TKO were already confirmed and booked in May. So they were always going to do what we’ve seen in BTS shots. It’s not a sudden development.

In any case: If they aimed for more seasons than two, I think this prediction could still hold in general, we’ll just get it more fleshed out. In that case, I’d say 10 episodes of SoM and Brief Lives (5 each), and A Midsummer Night’s Dream and THCoL as standalones with the rest as side-plots woven in (that includes AGoY). Then S3 comprising TKO and The Wake with more space for standalone episodes and World’s End. Maybe even Overture as a special. I very much doubt they would go for more than three seasons in total though.

So these are my predictions, now I’d love to hear yours…

[brumiramybeloathed]

A brumira idea I've had is, what if Bruno actually left the Encanto after Mirabel's ceremony and then Mirabel left the Encanto after Antonio's?

I've seen both of those floating around, and I've even seen a Brumira story where Bruno left the Encanto and then Mirabel decides to leave when she's 17/18 and they meet up at a bar.

But. I'm thinking something that sort of combines the two.

When Bruno leaves, he takes very little with him. Some changes of clothes, some food he pilfers, and that last vision. He hikes over the mountain and settles in the first town he comes across, not wanting to be too far, but not willing to stay. As a Madrigal, he helped the community in a variety of different ways, so he is skilled enough to make a living. So he does. Eventually, he settles on wood working, carpentry. He gets to be artistic and he gets to make things that actually help people, unlike his visions.

Mirabel, 10 years later, pushed aside by her family over concerns of the magic and her lack of gift and other issues, leaves. No one besides Abuela Alma knows he had a vision, as he took it with him and met no one on the way out. So. The day after Isabella's engagement to Mariano, two days after Antonio's birthday, Mirabel packs a bag with a change of clothes, some food, and some of her sewing supplies. She'll need to support herself after all.

So she walks to the next town over and talks to the tailors and seamstresses about someone hiring her on as an assistant or apprentice. Mirabel shows them her work on her clothes, offers to demo her skills, and most turn her away except one. This one calls Bruno over, as Bruno is good at reading people, even after all this time of not using his gift.

Bruno puts down his tools, comes over and talks to her. About her home life, where she's from, why this town, etc. And he recognizes her as Mirabel, his niece. But she says her name is Veronica Mortize.

So. Two weeks after she arrived at the town and she became the apprentice for one of the seamstresses, Bruno finally finds time to talk to her in private.

So she spills that, yes, her name is not Veronica Mortize, it's Mirabel Madrigal. She talks of her family's gifts, how she didn't get one, how things just got worse and worse for her as everyone grew tired of her being in the way and in the middle of things and she grew tired of everyone leaving her behind. So she left to make a name for herself.

Then Bruno tells her his story. His name, his gift, how everyone treated him. They commiserate over food Mirabel makes that reminds them both of Julieta's cooking.

3 Years go by. The two are busy, providing for themselves and holding down jobs in a town far busier than Encanto, but they meet up every month or so and catch up. Then it moves to meeting every two weeks. Then once a week.

Mirabel tosses out the idea of them living together first.

"We are family after all. That wouldn't be weird, and we would both save a lot of money and be far less lonely."

And. Well. Who is Bruno to argue with saving money?

But he also notices that they sit close together on the couch. That they sit next to each other at the table. That everyone around them thinks they are in a romantic relationship and most don't even know the two live together.

Bruno then notices the odd touches they give each other, across the shoulders, down the back, on the arms and legs. Bruno notices that Mirabel will sometimes look at him longer than perhaps a niece should look at her uncle. And he catches himself on more than one occasion looking at her longer than an uncle should look at his niece.

So they talk about it. It is an awkward, stilted conversation of uncomfortable realizations and begrudging agreement to not go further. They don't look each other in the eye for weeks afterwards. They try to keep their distance from each other. Meal times are quiet and suffocating. People and neighbors and coworkers wonder if they're fighting.

No. Not really. Just trying to reestablish the normal boundaries that family members should have between each other.

They break down three months after The Conversation. They cling to each other, the only comfort they have in a (not so) foreign land, the only comfort they have away from home, away from family. They agree that distance was not helping and that a certain amount of damage has already been done. So long as they don't cross more boundaries, they should be fine.

They keep this up for over a year. Soon, Mirabel is 20. Bruno is 55.

And both are done with the boundaries they upheld for several years now.

They get married with a small ceremony at the local church, using Mirabel's fake name and Veronica Mortize becomes Veronica Madrigal.

3 years later, a rider comes from over the mountain in search for Bruno Madrigal and Mirabel Madrigal. Alma Madrigal is dying and has requested that someone send news to them so she can see them in her final days.

Bruno and Mirabel have a serious conversation about the family, how they would react, was it wise to return as a married couple or should they hide it?

"Mirabel, neither of us are good pretenders, and both of us are already outcasts in that village. What good would hiding do?"

They decide to brave the backlash, Mirabel talks to the lead seamstress about a leave of absence, and Bruno closes his shop. Neighbors and friends wave them goodbye as they head to a mountain that has split down the middle, back to a place neither thought they would ever see again.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Ao3 | 3.6k Words | Freelancer's POV

Gabriel Shaw raised his son in this fire house, in this office as Captain. And Asher’s dad was his lieutenant. And Milo’s dad was the beat cop who would divert his route to clear a scene when he heard the 10-19 was on a call. The house was fill of lineage, full of families of firefighters and their sons.

It was a lineage that you weren’t a part of.

_

Firefighter/EMT au. Darlin is still the black sheep. Quinn is still a problem. Sam is still a healer, of sorts. He still heals them, in a way.

TW: blood and injury, medical talk, burn out, passing out from exhaustion, generally dissatisfaction when receiving medical care, refusal of medical care

It was the winter after you flunked out of medical school and you were buttoning up the starched, navy EMT uniform shirt that you’d received a few hours before. Gavin thought that this was a good idea when you’d pitched it, but not for the reasons you’d brought up. You originally wanted to be an EMT as an appeal to your mother, who had, upon your withdrawal from school, languished that her youngest was as much of a disappointment as their older siblings. 

Your sister was a school teacher. Your brother was an artist. By ‘disappointment ,’ Mom meant ‘ not a doctor or lawyer .’

But you couldn’t stay in med school. You tried, you did. You took yourself as far as you could go. You pushed, pushed, tried so fucking hard. You didn’t sleep, skipped meals and social hour and ignored your phone when your friends called. And you were perfect. Straight A’s right up until the end. 

And then Damien found you on the floor of your kitchen at the end of finals week. You’d burned as long and as bright as you could, but by the end, all you were was burnt out. 

Your boys dragged you kicking and screaming to unenrollment. 

Two months later, Gavin insisted that you do something. Not for the money, that wasn’t an issue. What he’d already earned off of his OnlyFans could carry you two for the rest of your lives, let alone what he was yet to make. When you two got serious, Gavin made it clear that you didn’t have to work, that you could leave school and chase a passion, chase a dream. But all you had was medical textbooks and the hazy vision of being a surgeon of some type some day. You wanted to put that prefix in front of your name, hang up your diploma in the living room so everybody could see it. 

You didn’t know if you loved medicine. You thought that you probably just loved a job well done. 

Your hair was a mess. You smoothed it down in the little mirror affixed to the door of your locker. You caught sight of your surname embroidered in gold on the breast of your uniform shirt. Sam had gotten it done the day after your interview. Vincent said that he’d never seen Sam be so sure of something so fast. 

It was no use staring at your reflection. You’d always find something to tweak if you squinted hard enough. You shut your locker and made your way out of the bunk room. 

Station 10-19 was nice, very nice. A huge locker room, individual shower stalls, full sized beds with pressed white sheets. The kitchen had two ovens, a huge fridge, and the biggest pantry you’d ever seen. The firehouses you’d visited while getting certified were much smaller, much less impressive. All of this must have cost a fortune. 

“Shaw’s a master of budget balancing,” Vincent had told you that afternoon during your tour. “I swear, the dude spends hours sitting in his office crunching numbers. It’s honestly a little worrying.” 

You’d met David Shaw in your interview, but Sam Collins was your direct report. Shaw was a big dude, but after meeting a few of the other firefighters, you just started considering yourself scrawny. The whole firehouse was full of mutant giants.

Everybody was nice, but Vincent acted like he’d just gained a new best friend when he’d introduced himself that afternoon. He was a tall, slender man with bright gray eyes and a sharp smile. You recognized his last name, Solaire. His dad was the chief of surgery at Daliah General, the only level one trauma center in the area. It was your top pick for your residency. 

Solaire wasn’t a common name, but if Vincent was the son of a two time Harper-Avery winner, he didn’t show it. He moved with a cool confidence, and seemed to have that same confidence in you. He spoke to you like you knew what you were doing. Which, to be fair, you did. You just weren’t used to people treating you like it. 

“Don’t let Sam’s grumpy attitude fool you,” Vincent grinned as he led you towards the ambulance. “He’s a softy. A bit rough around the edges, but soft for sure.” 

You couldn’t imagine Sam Collins being soft, but you smiled and nodded anyway. Vincent showed you where everything was on the bus, and then reiterated the few things that you would likely actually use. The compression machine, the heart monitor, the AMBU bag. 

When the first code blared in your ears just as Vincent finished shoving everything back into their assigned cubbies. He grinned and patted you on the back, jumping up to the front and hopping on the radio as he revved the bus’s engine. 

Sam made his appearance a few seconds later, hopping into the bus and pointing you towards one of the two passenger seats in the back, strapping himself in. He nodded for you to do the same. 

It was quiet for a long time. Vincent called a few things into the radio before shouting back to Sam. 

“Single vic, third story apartment. Not sure the extent of the injuries. Landlord just found a blood trail.” 

“Let’s prep for a GSW and a laceration.” Sam replied. He grabbed for a few things within reach and threw them into his jump bag. “BleedStop’s over your head, Probie, grab me a few.” He held out his hand. It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. You jerked and reached up blindly, coming back with a few red and white packages. 

“Are these standard issue?” You asked softly, flipping one over in your hand. You heard Vincent laughing from up front. Sam grinned. 

“You were in medical school?” Sam asked after a few minutes. You nodded. “Internal medicine, peds…”

“Surgical.” You answered his unasked question. You ducked your head, looked away. Sam was quiet for a long moment. “I was four years into my residency when I called it quits.” He said. When you looked up, he was focused on the computer output, a pinch in his brow. You didn’t dare ask a question, break his concentration, but something in your chest eased. 

After roughly three minutes of sirens wailing and lights flashing, Vincent pulled up outside of a dilapidated, five story apartment building. This was the sort of street that you would refuse to let Gavin walk down alone, the sort of area you wanted Huxley next to you in. You shivered and kept close to Vincent as he loaded a jump bag on each of your shoulders. 

“It’ll be bloody.” Sam cracked his neck in anticipation. “Just keep your cool. You don’t gotta do much this time around, Probie. Watch the two of us closely and try to keep up.” You nodded sharply and followed him into the building. 

The landlord was waiting for you in the lobby (if this could be called a lobby). He was a short, round man with more bald spot than hair. He was tapping something out on his phone, the font blown up to such a big size you could read his message from this distance. You politely avoided looking at it, instead planting your gaze between his bushy eyebrows and trying to carry an air of confidence about you. 

“Finally,” he huffed, attaching his phone to the little plastic holster on his belt, “took you guys long enough. It’s upstairs, third floor.” He slammed a set of keys into Sam’s hand and turned on his heel, retreating through an office door. You heard the lock slide in place before any of you could say anything. 

“We’ve got the fastest response times in Dahlia.” Sam shouted after him, his face twisted up with annoyance. “Come on,” he turned towards the elevator and took a deep, calming breath. His rugged features somehow looked more handsome when pinched with frustration. The line between his eyebrows was present even as his face relaxed. 

The elevator doors opened to a pool of drying, congealing blood. Vincent whistled, shaking his head. 

“Dude,” he had the nerve to laugh, “these people really don’t like being alive. Whoever this is should have gone straight to the hospital.” The three of you piled in, stepping carefully around the blood. It resulted in you being awkwardly pressed against three separate walls. Vincent stretched to press the button for the third floor. 

“Look at where we are.” You waved your hand around the concerningly rickety elevator. “If they can only afford to live here, I’d bet they don’t have health insurance either.” 

Vincent’s face slackened in confusion, as though that thought had never occurred to him. 

“Dahlia Gen has a free clinic for that very reason.” Sam said. The elevator groaned and he caught the handrail nervously.

The blood trail continued when the doors opened, leading you straight to the vic’s apartment. The door was painted a sloppy brown color, the latest in a long line of landlord-specials. It was peeling around the corners, revealing white, beige, yellow, green…

Sam inspected the door for a few seconds before leaning into his radio. 

“Engine Two to Dispatch, confirm no PD?” He kept his voice low. His radio crackled as a voice called back. 

“Confirmed, Engine Two.” Dispatch replied. “Paramedics were the only ones called to the scene.” Sam sighed softly and scratched his head. 

“Cap?” Vincent asked. 

“Proceed with caution.” Sam replied. “You two stay behind me. We don’t make any moves until we see what we’re dealing with.” 

Sam stepped up to the door and knocked hard, three times, with the side of his fist. “DFD,” he shouted, “Paramedics, open up!”

There was no reply. 

“Hello!” Sam called again. “Paramedics!” 

Something shifted behind the door. You heard a curse, a stumble. Sam backed up and herded you and Vincent away from the door. 

It swung open wide. The apartment inside was dark and barren, like somebody had just moved in. A slumped figure was leaning against the doorway. You could see where the bloodtrail was coming from. Their hand was pressed firmly against their side. The steady drip of their blood against the floor made your stomach turn.

Were you really ready for this? Maybe medical school wasn’t so bad. 

“What?” They growled. Their shoulders were tensed and drawn up to their ears. 

“Jesus.” Sam breathed. He was stunned into silence for a moment, but only a moment. He jerked and then moved slow, indicating his movements boldly, so as not to surprise them. 

Even hunched over and bleeding, they cut an intimidating figure. Clad in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a muscle tee, you could see every inch of lean muscle and scar tissue that made them up. They were as tall as most of the firefighters in the 10-19. You thought they’d fit right in against Lieutenant Talbot’s frame, that they could hold their own in a fist fight against Captain Shaw. 

“You can leave.” They spat, their teeth lined with blood. They had something wild in their eyes, and you were concerned for a moment that they would lash out at Sam to get him away. He held strong, though, didn’t back down or look away. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re bleeding.” He pointed to their hand and cocked his head to the side. 

“This is private property.” They gritted out, close to a growl. 

“Private property owned by your landlord.” Sam nodded. “Who called us. You gonna bleed out on your feet or are you gonna let us in?” He put a hand out to steady them as they listed to the side. They jerked away from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” They snapped, curling in on themself. 

“Well, excuse me for trying to help you!” He held his hands up in surrender, telegraphing his movements even as he griped. “Keep barkin’ at me like that and I’ll let you bleed out.” 

“Yeah well, my bite’s much worse.” They managed. They had gone a bit green and, when Sam reached for them again, they didn’t protest. 

“Well, ain’t you just darlin’.” Sam drawled. His face had gone serious, his focus pulled to the blood dripping down their side and the leg of their pants. “Come on, let’s get you sat down before you fall out.” 

Sam started steering them towards the patch-covered couch that sat in the center of the room. The apartment was a studio, although even that felt like a generous description. It was, really, a dingy, gray box. A sink sat dry in one corner next to a mini fridge and a poor excuse for a counter space. There was no bed, just the dirty, brown couch that looked as though it had been pulled from off the curb. A large section of the lumpy middle cushion was darkened with blood. There was one window that you didn’t think even you could fit out of, let alone your hulking patient. A shadeless lamp sat on the floor in the corner opposite the sink, casting the room in stark, dramatic shadow. 

Sam deposited your patient on the couch, where they collapsed in a heap of muscle and blood. He snapped on a pair of white gloves and held a hand out to Vincent, who snagged a jump bag from your shoulder and supplied him with the gauze he was apparently reaching for. It would be difficult, you thought, to keep up with them at first. These two seemed to be so familiar, so connected that they didn’t have to talk to know what the other needed. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Sam asked, raising his voice to try and cut through the buzz that blood loss left in the ear. “And where you are?” 

“I’m fine,” your patient groaned, shoving at Sam as they tried to sit up again. 

“Hold still .” Sam used his forearms to press them back into their couch without contaminating his gloves. “You’re gonna tear your stomach right open if you don’t ease back.”

“You need to work on your bedside manner, Doctor.” The patient grinned. Their face had gone sheet white. 

“Well, good thing I’m not a doctor, Darlin’.” He replied. Actually, you thought, he was. If he had been in his residency, he would’ve had to have a medical degree. He was a doctor, license or not. 

You reached for the BleedStop you’d stashed in the bus just as Sam’s hand swung back again. When you clapped the pack down in his palm, he turned, surprised. Vincent bumped your shoulder with his, smiling broadly.

“This is gonna sting.” Sam informed them before dumping the BleedStop over the wound and packing it with gauze. They shouted, short and hard, as they clamped a hand down on Sam’s shoulder. Vincent jerked as though to pull them off, but Sam shook his head sharply. Vincent backed off. “Saline,” He said, holding his hand back to you. You dug through your bag quickly before finding a pint of it. Vincent supplied a large syringe. 

Watching Sam work on a patient was like watching an artist paint. He had an intense air of focus about him, and his whole face lit up when he bent over the wound. He watched with rapt attention as the bleeding slowed and clotted. After a few minutes, he pulled a syringe full of saline from the bag and rinsed out the BleedStop. 

It was a stab wound, surrounded by ugly, red and purple bruising. It looked as though someone had punched the blade into them. 

“Can I lift this up?” Sam asked, indicating their shredded and blood-blackened shirt. They nodded sharply once. You watched as their steely face crumbled a bit as Sam touched them. Their bottom lip trembled. “Hey,” Sam said softly, freezing until they met his eye, “it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He said it like it was true, like there was no doubt about it. 

In the end, despite the stab wound and the slash on their thigh and the obviously broken ribs and their split lip and their bloodied knuckles, they refused to go to the hospital. Sam spent fifteen odd minutes arguing with them. Honest-to-God arguing, shouting, cursing, lecturing. You thought that was probably against protocol, but he was right, so you weren’t going to snitch to Captain Shaw about it. The stab wound was concerning enough. The broken ribs were dangerous. One bone fragment, one twist of the skin to make it a compound fracture, one stutter of their lungs in just the wrong way. It could all prove deadly. They let Sam use suture glue on the stab wound and the cut, let him dab anesthetic against their knuckles, let him press a cold compact into their ribs. They didn’t let anybody else touch them. 

“There is a free clinic at Dahlia Gen.” Sam reiterated one last time as they hurried you out of the door. “If you start bleeding or have trouble breathing,” he patted around his uniform until he supplied a scrap of paper and pen from his breast pocket. He scrawled out a phone number and handed it over. Their fingers spread red across the crumpled, white paper. “Please call me.” 

The door shut hard in your faces. 

You made your way back through the blood stained halls. Sam turned the keys in to the landlord. You walked out into the crisp, winter air. 

“Are they all like that?” You asked as you took several deep breaths, free from the iron tang of blood that had permeated their apartment. 

“No.” Sam shook his head sharply. 

“It’s mostly drunk people.” Vincent assured you. 

“And kitchen knife incidents.” Sam chimed in. 

“And cardiac events.” Vincent nodded, hopping into the driver’s seat. You settled into the back of the ambulance with Sam and studied your hands. There was blood on the cuff of your uniform. Sam huffed and reached under his seat, pulling out a fresh uniform shirt. 

“Here, Probie.” He said. 

“Does it get easier?” You asked all of a sudden as you took the shirt from him. Sam smiled. 

“The blood?” He asked. “Yeah. Yeah, the blood gets easier. But not much else.” 

The two of them were right. Somewhere along your drive back to the 10-19, you got a call for a possible cardiac event that turned out to be an anxiety attack. You held the hyperventilating kid’s hand, walked them through breathing exercises you’d learned for Lasko while Sam assured their mom it was nothing to worry about. Straight from there, you got a call for an older woman, Mrs. Henrick, who claimed she fell and broke her hip. She was apparently a widow and a frequent caller. She just wanted Sam to put her kettle on and to ogle at Vincent for a while. He was impressively obliging, and matched her flirting one for one. It was a few more hours of just that; bouncing from call to call, emergency to emergency, but nothing quite like that first one. 

It was nearing dawn by the time Engine Two was finally cleared to return to the 10-19. You were just this side of exhausted, the adrenaline that kept you pushing through the night long worn off. Vincent walked you through the breakdown of the bus. Checking off the medical supplies one by one on your little inventory sheet was almost meditative. It lulled you towards the rest you knew was coming. You were on call for the next twelve hours, and then you’d be off for another twelve. You longed for that plush bunk room and the reprieve a few hours of rest would give you. 

Captain Shaw was in the kitchen when you and Vincent clambered in. He had looked so severe when you met him in your interview, clad in the navy button down of his daily uniform. He must have been getting on duty, because now he was wearing a tight, heather gray t-shirt with the Dahlia Fire Department logo emblazoned across his back. The shirt was stretched across his chest and arms, giving you a full view of his musculature. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting his dark features in warm, welcoming light. He was handsome. You couldn’t wait until you had an excuse to introduce him to Gavin. He’d have a field day with a man like David Shaw. 

“There can’t be that much blood in the human body,” he rumbled into his coffee cup. Sam laughed from his spot across the large, family style dining table that filled up most of the floor space in the room. There were pans out near the six burner stove; sausage, bacon, some weird looking strips of what must have been a vegetarian substitute. There was a plate stacked with pancakes, another stacked with waffles, and a bowl filled with sliced fruit. Two cartons of eggs were waiting, untouched, next to the stove. 

“You would be surprised how much a person can bleed and keep going if they have the will power.” Sam shrugged. He was flipping through a pile of paperwork, probably the releases from their calls tonight.

“Captain Shaw cooks every morning.” Vincent indicated towards the feast on the kitchen counter. “You should eat. Once morning shift gets in, it’ll be gone.” 

“And they refused transport to the hospital?” Shaw scoffed. 

“Yup.” Sam popped the ‘p’ in his mouth, shaking his head. He handed over a file from the top of his pile to Shaw, who flipped through their release form with only a bit of interest. 

His dark eyes flicked over the page once, and then widened. He sat up straighter, bending to get a better look at it. His eyes landed on the bottom of it, where your patient had printed their name next to their sloppy signature. 

Shaw’s coffee cup shattered in his hand, sending shards of ceramics and hot coffee all over him, the table, and the offending report.

[vithe-potato]

1st, 2nd, and 3rd

Wrecker x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fem!reader, hurt/comfort?, First kiss, Making out-ish, kind of one bed trope.

Summary: Reader gets hurt so she can no longer sleep on the small couch, meaning she'll have to share a bed with Wrecker for the night. Will this result in a confession of feelings? (Duh)

Words: 2,297

Your eyes strained against strong fluorescent lights, the smell of disinfectants causing your nose to scrunch. You took in a deep breath, heavily moving your hand against the rough medical blanket. A droid was in your face as soon as you came to your senses, spewing information which was quickly cut off after being smacked away and replaced by one of your favorite people. “Mesh’la are you feelin’ okay?!” Wrecker's face enveloped your entire vision, not like you minded. 

Hunter's gruff voice came from the bottom of the bed. “Give her some space Wrecker, she just opened her eyes.” You carefully titled your head to look at him.

“How long have I been out?” The words slid out of your mouth, it felt odd, like you hadn’t said them. Your eyelids grew heavy again, memories of getting hit… stabbed? started to come back blurrily. “Did they give me drugs?” You whined out, frustrated with the off sensations.

“No? Just bacta…” Wrecker questioned, bringing his palm to cradle your face gently moving it towards him, “Are you sure they said she was okay?” He worryingly turned to his brothers while you faded in and out of consciousness. 

At the ready, Tech’s eyes look up from his data pad, “Her vital signs are within acceptable ranges, despite the blood loss. Typically individuals can survive losing up to 10-15% of their total blood volume without any major issues. She has lost 30% of her blood volume and is having trouble transporting oxygen.” Tech stares, waiting for a response. 

Wrecker was lost for a moment, “So she’s lost too much blood?”

“That is correct” Tech gave a curt nod.

“Y’know Tech, you could jus’ say that.” Wrecker’s nose scrunched up as he gave his little brother a sidelong glance, you couldn’t help but smile and let out a soft giggle at the interaction.

“Kriff, she is acting like she’s high” Echo sighs.

Omega looks up at him confused, “What does that mean?” Everyone looks at each other.

“Maker” Hunter whispered with his head in his hands, slumping back into his chair near the end of the hospital bed.

“She might have to stay another night here.” Echo said, crossing his arms and examining your state.

Tech looked up from his data pad where he was leaning against a wall near the door. “Incorrect, she has already recovered, we only have to wait for the medics to discontinue blood transfusion.” 

I face contorted in confusion “Where is here?... How many nights have I already stayed?”

“We had to take you to a hospital, there wasn’t a way to treat you with our resources.” Tech offered, typing away.

Echo noticed the unanswered questions on your face, “The mission Cid sent us on was… eventually a success. You ended up getting stabbed and nearly sliced open from your hip down to your thigh. You-”

“Wrecker had to carry you back to the ship.” Omega interrupted, you blushed at the fact. Trying to conceal it you glanced at Wrecker with a raised brow. He only nodded with pursed lips.

The silence was loud as you put your head back on the pillow with a soft grunt. Wrecker sighed, his hand still near you on the bed, “You gave us all a good scare, being here 4 days unconscious and all.” My eyes didn't widen, with the damage that supposedly happened, it sounds about the right amount of time to have been sleeping.

Hunter rose from his seat, ruffling Omega's hair who protested and shoved his hand off of her with a giggle. “We should head back to the ship for the night when you get enough blood back in you.” You nodded in agreement, You hoped the drowsiness would start to wear off as soon as you woke up little by little.

“Go back to sleep cyare, i’ll tell ya when we’re leavin’ okay?” Wrecker stroked your hair and with a whispered “Okay”, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift shut again.

⸺

The trek back to the ship wasn’t horrible with Wrecker by your side, supporting you with an arm under yours and a hand around your waist. The contact made you blush, though you played it off as strain from attempting to walk. That wasn’t even half true with Wrecker practically lifting you off the ground, you didn’t really have any weight on your feet.

You made your way up the ramp onto the ship, one look at the too small couch that you usually slept on had both you and Wrecker cringing  on the position it would put your leg in. “uhm…” I looked around the ship as if something would randomly click into place and reveal a perfect place for me to sleep.

“You can sleep in my bunk?” My heart skipped a beat at his offer. My head started to shake in decline, but one more glance at the small couch forced me to reconsider.

“Okay..” I said, I swore I saw his eyes brighten for a split second. Wrecker Gently led me to get settled in his bed, and tucked strand of hair behind my hair. He picked up Lula and walked over to the couch I usually slept on, my heart clenched at his show of selflessness. “Wrecker?” I questioned, he hummed in response and stomach fluttered thinking about what I was going to say.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch…” He raised a brow, “We can share, I’m cold anyway.” I gave him a reassuring smile, he gave one back. Wrecker was a big boy but tech had slightly modified Wreckers bunk to be slightly bigger anyway. He removed his armor and when he was down to his blacks, you felt his warmth seep into the sheets as he slipped into the bed.

“We’re going to run some errands.” Hunter said in the doorway, startling you. “We are down to nothing and you’ll need food to fully heal.” He explained, answering your questioning gaze.

“Meg’s going with?” I asked. 

Hunter chuckled, “Yeah, she insists it’s not her bedtime yet and she and the others want to stretch their legs after sitting in that hospital for so long.” He lifted from his lean against the door, slipping out. 

“Take care of her, Wreck!” Echo shouted from the front of the ship.

“Will do!” Wrecker shouted back with a chuckle, and they were gone, leaving you and Wrecker alone. You turned to face the wall, and closed your eyes to let sleep envelop you once more.

⸺

You woke to a tickle on the small of your waist from his hand coming into contact with it. You shifted a bit, his palm ⸺rough and warm⸺ half on your skin from the sleep shirt riding up slightly. It sent a tremor of nerves through your body. You didn’t know what he felt, was he touching an imperfection? You cringed. He whispered your name and you froze.

“Hey uh, are you okay?” His voice was gruff with sleep. You ignored how it sent a shiver down your spine and turned to face him, his hand didn’t move, now resting on the other hip.

Your breath hitched, his face was only a few inches away, “Yeah.” Your voice was quieter than you had hoped. Your eyes traced the lines of his scar to see how it blended into the corner of his soft-looking lips. You wanted to kiss him, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought.

“It was a tough day, r’ you still hurting?” You tried not to flinch as his fingertips gently traced over the bandage wrapped around your hip, down to your thigh.

You decided to brush it off, “I’ll live.” 

“S’ not what I asked.” His large hand moved from your leg to run the back of his fingers over your warm cheek. You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing as your eyes flicked up to meet his. Even laying down, he towers over you, his beautiful brown eyes ⸺one glazed over with white⸺ already on yours as he looked down at you. You were mesmerized by him, how sweet and caring he was, how strong and handsome and-

“Your eyes looked really pretty up close.” You blurted. Wincing, you quickly lowered your head to look down at your hands, twisting and pulling at the fingers. Wrecker didn't move an inch, he was frozen, like you had been a few moments ago, you’d hoped it was a good thing.

“Mesh’la…” He spoke so softly, like he was afraid you would run away. He dipped his head down, bringing his curled pointer finger under your chin to lift your gaze back to his.

Then you saw it, Wreckers beautiful, eye crinkling and contagious smile. A giggle started to bubble up in your chest out of embarrassment, bringing your hands up to attempt to cover your blushing cheeks. He let out a breathy chuckle which died into a sigh, his hands pushed yours away to reveal your face, he’s too strong for you to protest. He slyly slipped his hand into yours, bringing your intertwined fingers to your side.

You stared into his eyes again, but this time, they were focused on your lips. He leaned closer and your entire body buzzed. Your breath was starting to become heavy and your palms sweaty. Your mind blazed through every holodrama scene you could think of trying to pick your next move. You took a deep breath ⸺as quietly as you could manage⸺ and pushed off your shoulder to move up towards his lips, letting your eyelids flutter closed. 

Then his lips were on yours. Everything about him was warm and soft, his muscles relaxed as he leaned into the kiss. Your whole body was ridged and borderline shaking with nerves. You moved your free hand to run across the side of his head, but the constant nagging of your brain was reminding you that you didn’t know what you were doing.

He broke the kiss only for a second before he swiftly pulled you on top of him, making you feel absolutely weightless. You straddled his large thighs and sighed into his mouth when you felt his hand gripping the back of your un-injured thigh. He chuckled in response, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head. He was taking the lead and you were grateful. Both of your hands splayed out on his pectorals, not sure what else to do with him. You let him kiss you and it felt unbelievably wonderful. But it was still odd, and you were still quivering with nerves.

The both of you broke apart slowly⸺ he was perfectly happy, but his face contorted in confusion as he took in your expression. You looked like you were just struck by lightning, eyes a bit wide when they opened, eyebrows furrowed, lips pouted, and still trying to get a handle on your heartbeat and breath. He removed his hand from your hair, bringing it to rub the back of his neck. “That was okay right? Sorry ‘forgot to ask, I should’ve- it’s just- ‘thought you-” You interrupted him with another soft peck on the lips, sending a thrill through you. 

You smiled sheepishly at him, willing yourself to say something. “Nono, yeah, I-uh- I liked it.” You chewed at the inside of your lip, he moved his hand back to your face to gently pull it away. Your cheeks felt impossibly warm from his touch.

“Is somth’n wrong?” He asked softly.

“No! no. It’s just that- well-” You cleared your throat, scooting back to sit down on the bunk. “It’s just that I haven’t- It was my first kiss and all…” Your voice withered while his eyes grew. His expression quickly morphed from surprise to smugness. 

“I’m your first kiss, Mesh’la?” He wore a confident smirk that made it hard for you to hold back a smile. You nodded, knowing your words would probably fail.

“And technically second too…” You joked.

He paused to sit up, contemplating something before saying lowly, “Well, do you want me to be your third?” 

I swallowed, trying to clear my throat, yes, that’s exactly what I wanted. “If I wasn’t clear enough already… yes." I said with a small breathless chuckle. And with that confirmation, Wrecker leaned up to push hair behind your ear and with a gentle smile, he re-twined his hand into your hair and brought your lips back to his. Your stomach flipped when he broke the kiss to lay you onto your back under him, you flushed when you saw the muscles in his arm bulge as he braced it beside your head. 

He brought himself closer again, lips locking with yours. He was careful not to crush you with his leg between yours, slowly bringing all of the points of your bodies to touch. He felt like a warm weighted blanket on top of you, yet his lips and hands made you feel like you were floating. He nipped at your bottom lip and slipped his tongue through them when you gasped at the touch, you felt his smile against your lips as you gripped his bicep, your other hands nails digging into his shoulder. You felt the vibration of his grunt against your lips, only adding to the amazing sensation of everything. 

He broke away once more, staring into my eyes and sliding to the side of me. Wrecker maneuvered me to rest my head on his chest, I giggled at the ease in his movements. “Wrecker?” I asked softly, eyes drifting low from exhaustion. 

“Mesh’la?” He responded, only making my smile and blush more apparent. I rested my chin on his built, soft, chest to look into his eyes when I told him…

“I Love you.”

Guys any tips on making story's less shallow? Lmao i feel like I just loose patience and want to finish them. Anyway, I loveee this piece so much and I hope you did too! Please Like, Reblog, and/or Comment to support my writing! <3

Masterlist ~ Requests: Open

[beauty-4-thebeast]

COMMISSIONS CLOSED

I may them open them again later this year. Feel free to DM me if you'd like to be notified when commissions are open again.

Problematic ships like Ghoulcy, Beetlebabes, Sareth, Darling Hook, Tomione/Voldimione etc are very welcome.🖤

Full Terms of Service:

Commission is a digital artwork for non-commercial personal use only, not for sale in any form. Using as a social media icon, web illustration for a fanfic or printing out a physical copy as a gift for friends is fine.

You will get:

1) a full-size PNG file (ask for other types if needed)

2) a short timelapse recording of my painting process.

By default I paint on A5-A4 canvas (the exact aspect ratio depends on the composition of the artwork) in 300dpi. If you need exact size with exact aspect ratio, let me know before I start work.

Extremely detailed props and clothes, as well as complex backgrounds, are subject to extra fee. Everything you see in the examples is basic price.

Will do:

✔️fanart, real people and OCs (a clear reference image of your character is needed), fanfic illustrations

✔️villain x heroine aka problematic ships (both parties being adult)

Can’t do:

❌explicit NSFW, gore, kinks, furries, nfts/crypto

I may decline your commission if I feel my art style is unsuitable for the subject.

🕐Turnaround time: 14-28 days after the sketch is approved and payment received.

Payment: payment via Lavatop (cards, Paypal and Stripe are accepted), $10 upfront, the rest after you’ve approved the composition sketch.

📌 If I'm unable to finish the work, I will inform you at once and you will get a full refund. For any other reasons refunds are not issued.

You can see more of my art at Deviantart Katarina-Mor.

My art style is a blend and balance between two styles:

1) Disneyish 2D animation style (great for characters from animation and comics) 2) digital oil leaning towards semi-realism (great for characters based on real-live actors and video games).

You can point at one of my existing artworks for reference of the style you'd like to see in your commission.

📌Choosing to commission me means you like my style and trust my vision, and everything that has not been specified in your order is left to my artistic interpretation.

EDIT POLICY: I accept and encourage major edits at the sketch stage I don’t accept edits at the progress stage I only accept 3 minor edits at the finished stage (usually it’s enough to make everyone happy with the result).

I reserve the right to post the final image and the timelapse process video on my social media accounts and in my portfolio. I can credit you as commissioner and link back to your social media whenever possible, if desired. If you post the commission somewhere, please link it back to any of my social media whenever possible.

Questions? DM me or email me at katkatmor @gmail.com with any questions, reference images and the description of the commission you have in mind.

END

[imagineanime2022]

My Time

Shota Aizawa X Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1161

Requested: Anon

Request: Hellooo

I was wondering if you could please write a Aizawa scenario in which he has a daughter but she gets sick with a strange illness. Thankss 🌻

You had always been your father’s focus. From the day you were born he did everything for you. Even his decision to become a night hero was based on the best way to look after you. He did have to admit that Hisashi helped him out a lot.

You were healthy for a long time before the illness started, you had been around 10 when you first started showing signs, your eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing and you’d sometime lose sight completely, when the doctors looked at your eyes, they couldn’t see anything wrong with the structure of your eyes but figured that it could have something to do with your quirk which much like your father was based on your vision. The doctors theorised that they may not be able to see any of the issues occurring in or around your eyes until your symptoms become more frequent or severe so the only advice that they had was to limit the use of your quirk, have regular check ups and note any new symptoms that you see.

He still remembered the day that you woke up and your eyes wouldn’t clear, the first time that you needed glasses to help correct your sight “Dad!” You yelled, he could hear the distress in your voice. “What happened!?” He asked as appeared in your room, and he came over to sit with you. “Everything is blurry, it won’t get better.” You answered, panicked and he picked you up, placing you on his lap. “It’s okay, don't panic, let's get you dressed and we’ll go see the doctor.” He said softly. “Okay.” You said softly.

A couple of hours later and the hospital had completed all of the tests that they could. “It seems that her eyes have gotten worse, we can see some changes when looking at our images from her last visit.” The doctor explained. “What does that mean?” Aizawa asked. “It means that she will need glasses, for the moment it will be normal glasses, however now that he had an image showing the way that he eyes are being affected, there is someone here with a quirk that can help us visual worse case and we may even be able to create a few different option to help her sight last.” The doctor explained. “For now you can take her home, keep her home for a few days while we sort her glasses and once they are done we get her back on track for normal.” “Thank you.” Aizawa sighed as he looked over at you, at least you could be normal for a little while longer.

Aizawa kept you close after that when you were old enough you moved to UA, you weren’t training to be a hero given your physical limitations but they had allowed you to be a part of 1A with separate work. You fit in well with everyone by this point it was clear that there was something different about you given the specialised glasses that you wore to help with your sight. The girls invited you to everything that they did and the boys looked out for you like you were their little sister, even Bakugo made sure that no one laid a hand on you.

The first time that anything happened to you, it wasn’t anything too serious just Monoma being his truest self but his teasing was directed at you. “What are you even doing in 1A?” He asked, looking down at you. “None of your business.” You glared at him and he only chuckled. “Well surely it was a mistake.” He sneered, you opened your mouth to answer but someone else spoke up before you could. “Hey! What did you say!?” You recognised the voice as Bakugo’s, you glanced behind you as he approached with the rest of his friends trailing behind him. “You know it’s not very manly to pick on a girl.” Kirishima added as he stepped in front of you, Mina took your hand as she stood next to you. “Hey! What’s going on over here?” You jumped at the sound of your dad’s voice, you looked over at him, he could see the pleading in your eyes for him to break everything up. “Just taking care of this idiot.” Bakugo answered. “Mm.” Aizawa hummed as he gestured for you to go over to him, it took you no time at all make your way over to your father. “Thank you for looking out for her, you can go now.” He gestured for the group to disperse. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, just didn’t want the others getting in trouble for me.” You answered. “What started all that?” Aizawa asked. “I had an episode, I bumped into him.” You answered. “Mm and now how are your eyes now?” He asked. “Fine, back to normal, nothing to worry about.” You answered.

Aizawa had a harder time with your illness then you were, you seemed to be getting on with your life just fine, while he worried about everything that you did, never showed it on the outside but every morning that you woke up okay he breathed a sigh of relief. He tried not to be overbearing but he wondered if he was failing but it was only when he brought home Eri that he realised just how capable you were.

Eri was terrified when she came back with him, you had been living mostly on your own with Hisashi checking in to make sure that you were okay and that you didn’t need anything. You had been cooking for yourself, cleaning the apartment and getting yourself to school. Eri latched onto you immediately “you wanna help me?” You asked, you had been in the middle of cooking, Aizawa watching you from the dining table where he was marking something that 1A handed in. “I don’t know how.” Eri answered honestly and you shrugged. “Do you want to learn?” You asked. “Yeah.” She answered. “Alright then.” You nodded as you looked around the kitchen, your dad had gotten you a stool when you were little to stand on when you were helping him, you brought it over and placed it in front of the oven “climb up.” You bracketed her small body, muttering warnings as she balanced herself. “Have you ever had a cake before?” “They gave me one at the hospital.” She answered. “Did you like it?” You asked. “Yeah.” She answered. “Well that’s what we’re making.” You informed her and her eyes widened. “You can make those?” She asked. “I can, Dad taught me how.” You answered. “You taught yourself, you give me too much credit.” Aizawa waved you off with a smile, seeing you with Eri, watching you as you showed her how to measure things and mix everything up he realised that there was still so much that you could do with your life, he hoped that you realised it too.

Request Here!!