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loveyourownsmiilee · 1 year

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Talking Buddie Language: Ep 6.11

I want to start off by saying Oliver Stark truly blew me away with his acting in tonight's episode. He truly has main character energy in this episode and he did this storyline such justice. This coma!Buck dream was everything I envisioned and more. I know the big problem I'm seeing is the lack of Eddie. However, I hope after you have read my meta, you can understand why I believe the lack of Eddie was so damn loud in this episode and what it can mean going further. As always, thank you so much if you take the time to read this! With that being said, let's get into it.

The Firefam Rushes Buck To The Hospital

It was such a prominent moment where the entire firefam, Buck's literal chosen family, all rush him to the hospital. From the literal second Eddie is out of the driver's seat, he runs towards his partner and pushes Chimney out of the way. There is no way in hell Eddie isn't going to do whatever he can in his power to bring Buck back to life. You can even hear it in his voice when he says, "Chim I'll take over" that he is hurting but trying to mask that hurt to get what needs to be done. He made a promise to Buck that he would always have his back and he was not going to go back on that promise now.

The visual of Eddie on top of Buck's gurney, doing compressions, will be something I will never get over. It was such a deliberate choice having it be Eddie who got his heart beating again and I am side eyeing these writer's and directors for those choices.

There's something that needs to be said about how Eddie is the one who starts Buck's heart again. Out of everyone there, even the two most trained medics, it was Eddie of all people who got his pulse back. Something about how Buck entrusted Eddie with his heart back in 5.14, so Eddie felt wholly responsible for safekeeping it.

After Eddie gets Buck back to them, they wheel him away and we hear Bobby telling the doctors about Buck's allergies and the doctor telling them that they would do their best. What is Eddie's reaction through all of this? He is following behind Buck, almost as if he is tethered to him by a string. He gets the furthest and yells back "DO MORE!" Because that is his partner and he doesn't do too well without control. This is out of Eddie's hands and he can't sit there and trust that these doctors, who are doing their best, is enough for his Buck. They need to go above and beyond, they need to do more than their best because Eddie can simply not handle a world without his partner. The devastation and pure fear in Eddie’s eyes hurts to look at because it’s so rare that we see him like this. He’s so defeated and the camera focusing on his reactions really tells me there’s a reason for it.

After Buck is whisked away, everyone is devastated in their own ways. Chimney is catatonic, Hen is understandably sad, Bobby is in shock but trying to keep it together for everyone else. Eddie? Eddie is crying. You can see the single tear rolling down his face when he screams at the doctors to do more. You can tell this usually stoic man is barely keeping it together. He turns around, walks up to Chim and let's his tears fall as he embraces him. You hear the loud sniffle and you see he is not holding back any of his emotions.

Why is this important? Because it is such a massive difference to how he acted when his actual wife died in season 2. Going back to rewatch that scene, the differences are so distinct that I find it fascinating to see how he reacted to his wife dying vs how he reacted to his partner dying. With Shannon, Eddie is a soldier, he doesn't cry and he knows the severity of the situation. He goes into that ambulance fully knowing there is nothing he can do to prevent the inevitable. He holds her hand and tells her to "Just be silent" so she doesn't use up her remaining breath. This is such a difference to last episode where Eddie ran after Buck and kept calling his name, begging him to just talk to him. He also jumped in and did whatever he could to help save Buck's life even when he was dead. There was something he could do and he was going to do it.

When Shannon is wheeled into the hospital, he doesn't follow her. He stays where he is frozen in place. With Buck, it's a different story. He is almost pulled after him and if it were up to Eddie, he would have followed him behind those doors as well.

The final comparison is Eddie's crying. When his wife dies, he steps out and sees his team. He is containing those tears and walks up to Bobby. It's not until he embraces Bobby that he lets his tears fall. With Buck, he is already crying as they wheel him away. He turns around and lets his entire team see him at his most vulnerable because that's Buck. Buck is someone so dear to him and Eddie is a different person now than he was when Shannon passed. His reluctance to let others see him cry when Shannon died indicates heavy repression on his part. Now, thanks to therapy and a little to Buck, he is embracing those emotions and allowing himself to feel things. He is not repressing those emotions and that is a beautiful thing to remember for his storyline progression this season.

Buck’s Coma Dream Begins

I love love love how the first thing Buck remembered when he woke up in coma world was Eddie. He wakes up and sees a random doctor, who’s really his dead brother, and feels like things are weird around him. The conversation then prompts the idea of Eddie is what I’m holding on to for a few reasons.

D: Maybe the next time you decide to go up a ladder, you should have someone there to spot you.

B: I did.

Buck’s facial expression here indicates immediate disbelief. He can’t fathom the idea where he does something dangerous and there’s no one there to have his back. And not just any one but his specific someone. Since we know this coma dream is basically his subconscious, it just cements the fact that in any universe and in any world, Buck is content with the fact that there will always be someone who has his back. Even though he’s not saying Eddie’s name out loud, just showing that flashback to Eddie telling him “Alright cowboy go get em” proves that he’s thinking of him and only him.

Another thing to note during this moment with his siblings is the importance of who and what family means to Buck. When Maddie tells him about the family dinner, you once again can see it in his face that he’s confused, prompting him to question “what family?” Because he has three distinct families he can think of and consider just that.

(1.) His fire family which includes all the spouses and kids.

(2.) Maddie, Chim, Jee-Yun + Buckley’s???

(3.) Eddie and Christopher.

The last family dinner before he was in a coma was that weird Buckley/Han dinner. But what was the one before that?? Oh yeah the Buckley-Diaz family dinner back in 6.01, which was very significant and foreshadowed a lot in my honest opinion.

I most definitely think in another life (hah), if Buck wasn’t a firefighter, then he would have a career dealing with children. So a teacher makes sense for this alternate reality. I was really hoping for him being Christopher’s teacher but beggars can’t be choosers. I will say however, it’s so important that the second person he remembers in this coma world is Christopher. One look at that ferris wheel figurine in his loft and his thoughts immediately flood with the tsunami and Christopher yelling for help! That begs the question: why Christopher? Why is he so important to Buck that his subconscious is forcing that memory upon him?

Buck Knows Something Is Not Right

I want to reiterate something before I continue, and that is all of this coma dream was conjured up of Buck’s subconscious. These are not things that are true in real life and it’s just how he views certain things based off of information he’s received.

Seeing the Buckley’s trying to be a happy family is really troublesome because it’s not as natural and organic as you would think a real family interacting should be. Buck, from the beginning, knows that something is not right and he’s having difficulty trying to figure out what it is. It’s not until the introduction of Doug that he realizes he’s in some sort of weird alternate life.

I love that his first reaction was to seek Chimney because in every life, he will be the one person that will, undoubtedly believe Buck with anything he needs to say. As he tries to further convince Chimney that he knows him, you see him starting to really lose out on this hope that Chim will be the one that helps him get answers. I think Oliver’s acting was phenomenal because he just uses certain tactics where you see a slight tick of his breath or a slight downturn of his lip that changes how he’s feeling. That entire scene where he’s having a heart attack because Bobby is dead?! Holy hell terrific acting!!! But I don’t want to focus too much on his interactions with Chim or Hen because at the end of the day, this is meant to focus on the Buddie of it all, so apologies in advance friends.

Christopher Visits His Dad

I do not think I have fully recovered from the severity of this scene nor do I think I will for a really long time. The fact that it was Christopher's idea to go visit Buck in the hospital and he was so damn adamant reminds me of how he woke Buck up from his sleep so that he could talk to his father, who was also in a coma. If these two scenes are not meant to parallel one another and signify that both Eddie and Buck are seen as Christopher's fathers, then what is it meant to be?

Eddie, my sweet Eddie, was dressed in all black. I'm talking black shirt, black jeans, black button up. He was clearly meant to be in mourning with his grown out stubble and his dark circles. This is such a vast difference to the grieving Eddie we saw in 2.18 after the death of his wife. He was wearing a white henley and he was sad but not as devoid of all feelings as he was in this episode. But numb or not, one thing Eddie will always be is a wonderful father who loves his child and cannot say no to him. I think it was so sweet that Eddie had to put his own feelings aside and allow his son to see Buck, even if he had to sneak him in to do it.

Eddie in this entire scene was everything and more. I know a lot of people wanted a bit more from him. But this is Eddie Diaz we are talking about. The same Eddie Diaz that barely let Buck in last season and let him see him at his most vulnerable.

H: Christopher?

E: I couldn't tell him no.

C: Is he sleeping?

He is so very clearly devastated and trying to keep it together for his son's sake and it shows. He is avoiding eye contact with Chris because he doesn't want him to see the level of sadness he's holding in his eyes. He turns away and wipes his eyes because this is him trying to be strong but failing because it's Buck. He has to compose himself a bit before he can even answer his son. Ryan’s acting here was so amazing. The man really knows how to do broody and devastated haha.

(Gif by @agentoutofdiaz)

E: Something like that. He's resting. So the machines could do all the work. Make him feel better.

You can actually hear how broken he is by his voice. It sounds like someone who has been crying. Even his eyes are red and teary, which proves this man has been going through it. When Christopher asks him "What are all these tubes?" You can literally see Eddie in the back, closing his eyes and shaking his head. This is where he gives up. He is not strong enough to go on and explain to his son the severity of Buck's situation. He wants to wake up from this nightmare. You can see him struggling so hard when he closes his eyes and accepts defeat. This then prompts Hen to explain why the tubes are needed to Christopher.

Once again, this is how Eddie mourns. He is barely holding it together and you can clearly see the emotions on that man's face. It is the most difficult task in the world telling your child that their other parent is ill and may not wake up. So it goes to show how different it was when Buck had to break the bad news to Christopher vs how Eddie simply could not go into details on the severity of Buck's injuries. Another thing to remember is that Eddie didn't struggle this much when he told Chris about Shannon's death. They hugged while Chris cried, but he did not let Chris see him crying over Shannon. Instead, he went to the beach and cried by himself. It's such a massive turn of events because Eddie simply cannot even hide his tears from Christopher even if he wanted to. He is standing in the background, struggling to explain to his son what is happening with Buck, while having tears rolling down his face.

C: Hey Buck, it's Christopher, I know you're sick but it's only temporary. You're gonna be ok. That's what all the machines are doing, making you better. But wherever you are, you have to come back. Wherever you are right now, you have to come back.

(Gif by @matan4il)

I have no words, I am simply inconsolable. Christopher Diaz ripping out my heart with his words. Not only mine but you can clearly see how affected Eddie is in the background. He cannot look at his son talking to Buck like that. His eyes are diverted and he is openly wiping his tears while crying. Once again, that is a man grieving someone so fucking close to him. You cannot look at Eddie's reaction to Buck and compare it to the others’ because it just feels different. Yes everyone is emotional in their own ways, but none of them are acting like the love of their life is dying BUT Eddie. No one is wearing all black, no one is avoiding looking at him because the simple look of Buck so lifeless will break them, except Eddie. There is so much in his quiet mourning that screams volumes and people are just choosing not to focus on it. Especially when you go back and look at Eddie right after his wife actually died. The differences are night and day.

Christopher’s words to Buck also tie in two important events in the Buckley-Diaz family and that is the tsunami and Eddie being buried in that well. When he tells Buck “You’re gonna be ok”, that’s a direct callback to him telling Buck the same thing before the tsunami happened. That was ironically what saved Buck while he was in his little funk. Christopher saved Buck. Christopher’s “Wherever you are, you have to come back” is also a callback for when Eddie was buried and he was remembering his family. Sure that was what Shannon said to him but I think essentially, the idea of Chris and Buck is what saved Eddie. So here we have Chris once again saying a few choice words in the hope that it brings Buck home and I am too emotional about it all.

Buck Tries To Go Home

I’ve already written my thoughts on what the main purpose of this episode was, so if you’re interested in reading that, you can find it right here.

It’s clear as day that this whole coma dream was supposed to be a catalyst in Buck realizing who he is and that he doesn’t need a job or something else to be accepted and loved. Because the people who matter to him will always love him for being Buck.

One thing I do want to mention is that even in this coma world, he still knows and thinks about Christopher and Eddie. He literally runs into Chris in his coma dream and that small interaction killed me.

C: Can you help me find my dad?

B: Sorry but you're not real and I got to go. I'm really gonna feel guilty for that one.

At the end of the day, there’s a reason as to why Chris is asking for help finding his dad. Even though it breaks Buck’s heart to not help him, he knows to an extent that he will always be there helping Chris and Eddie if they need him. That this dream world doesn’t really exist and out there in the real world, he’ll help them every time.

I’m not thrilled about this weird parental redemption arc. It was too forced and not organic enough to be believable but that’s just my opinion.

When Daniel tries preventing Buck from going back, he throws it back in his face that he was literally made for spare parts that failed. That is literally Buck’s subconscious and his own issues being voiced. When he responds, “Wasn’t my fault”, it further proves that what Eddie has said to him resonated with him. So even though Eddie is missing in this coma world, the impact he in turn has had on Buck is extremely present.

At the end of it all, he finally realizes that he’s Buck and that his family who already love him, truly love him for the person he is. He doesn’t need to change anything about himself, doesn’t need to injure himself for that love because they already just do.

Buck Will Always Be Buck

I believe there’s definitely a long road to recocery ahead for Buck and I can’t wait to see him struggle with the after effects and the ptsd. I love the final team moment in which they all come to visit him in the hospital.

Eddie is clearly much happier than we’ve seen him all episode and he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Buck. His eyes still have dark circles but he looks a bit more put together. But the moment the camera zooms in on him, you can tell he once again checks him over with his eyes fully, before urging his son to hug Buck. You can hear the elation in his voice when he tells Chris to hug Buck. He sounds less broken and like he’s on the mend himself. He’s giggling and trying to enjoy the fact that Buck is alive.

The Buck and Christopher hug literally symbolizes a father and son reunited and no one can convince me otherwise!!! So wholesome and it really goes to show how different Christopher is to Buck. No one else’s kids came to visit, not even his own niece. And in an episode where the theme is, predominantly, fatherhood/parenthood, I think this is a huge choice to include their special bond.

Bobby and Buck: Father and Son

The ending scene with Bobby and Buck was very heartwarming. This episode really did highlight how close these two are and finally confirmed what we’ve all been saying for years and that is Buck is Bobby’s son. A few things that they said during their conversation really stood out to me.

B: You know you were still Bobby actually. You helped me figure some things out. Find my way home.

BN: Good. Though I still find it hard to believe that you voluntarily left a world where you could fix everything.

B: Not everything, uh trust me it's better here.

Once again, I am very convinced that there will be some kind of foreshadowing here in which Bobby helps Buck figure some things out. Like I mentioned in my last meta, I knew Bobby was going to help Buck figure some things out and in tonight's episode, he ultimately did. He helped him come home. But the way Buck is reserved and doesn't tell Bobby the whole truth tells me that he clearly still has some work to do in his life.

Yes he could have stayed in that world but at what cost? He wouldn't have Eddie or Christopher in his life, he wouldn't have Bobby in his life. So in his most ideal dreamt up world, he is missing the 3 most important people to him after his sister. He was unable to help fix things with Eddie, which lead to him losing his custody battle with his parents. He was unable to help fix Bobby's addiction, thus leading to his death. A world without the Diaz boys and Bobby is not a world in which Evan Buckley wants to be a part of and that speaks tremendous voices.

The Couch Conversation

I am still very annoyed at this weird parental redemption act and I don't know how much longer I can buy that those people have truly changed for the better. One thing that is very important to note is the couch conversation.

When his mother asks him if he plans on getting a couch, Buck is quick to reassure her that "Eventually. I'm good with the chair for now." That's his way of being fine being single for the time being. He doesn't need a relationship, especially since he just came back from a serious injury. Then his mother insists on pushing it further and tells him that she will be getting him a couch. Once again Buck reaffirms that he is "Good with the chair." His mother then seems very adamant on making his loft more homey and he seems ok to let her do it, going so far as calling it "nice."

Now if we all remember the conversation from 6.01, a couch symbolizes a relationship to Buck. He told Eddie and Christopher that he didn't want to pick the wrong couch again and here we have his mother just going out and choosing one for herself. This will backfire eventually because Buck stated multiple times he doesn't want a couch, that he's good with his armchair. So I think this foreshadows his parents, his fire family forcing their support and care to Buck after his recovery, where the man just wants to be left alone to recuperate. It would make sense in that way.

I don't foresee a new legitimate love interest appearing and having us focus on the development of that, especially knowing that there are good moments set to occur between Buck and Eddie. I say this because Buck is on a road to recovery and he will be suffering from some ptsd. Who do we know that just recently went through his own struggles with ptsd? Oh yeah the same person who turned to Buck for support: Eddie. So I strongly believe Eddie will be playing a more important role in Buck's recovery. I also think the couch of it all is very open ended and that it can symbolize many different things. For now, I am choosing to wait and see what the symbolism of this new couch is going to be. Surely it won't stick around forever since we all know who has Buck's perfect couch...

Once again, thank you so much if you read all of this. This one was a tough one for me considering how emotional this episode was for me. Thank you to @aa-lionheart for all the other wonderful gifs. All my love to you darlings 💜

#buddie #buddie meta #911 meta #911 spoilers #christopher diaz #911 on fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #chimney han #bobby nash

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ex0rin · 1 year

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Whumpcember 2022 - Day 8

@whumpcember - Day 8 ALT Lashing Out Brock Rumlow, The Soldier, Agent Cole, Jack Rollins - 580 words confusion, jealousy, a broken nose

ps: if anyone was ever wondering about what my sweet child Agent Cole actually looks like it's Orlando Bloom in Black Hawk Down:

(my gif, shout out to black and white for covering all manner of sins)

The soldier watches as the youngest and newest of his commander’s team, Agent Cole, sways intentionally to the side and nudges his shoulder up against Rumlow’s as they talk in the hallway of the safehouse - the agent is smiling and there’s the faint trace of red sitting high on his cheeks; the soldier doesn’t know why this makes his chest tighten and his mouth press into a firm line.

He doesn’t like the way his commander laughs under his breath and doesn’t shift away from how close the younger man gets.

There’s no reason for this level of closeness - the agent and Rumlow are already close enough that they can easily hear each other and if it wasn’t part of the soldier’s training to not listen into other conversations unless explicitly told, he would also be able to hear them.

The soldier must be making a noise from his throat because Rumlow glances up and away from the agent to look at him and raises an eyebrow before turning back to whatever Agent Cole is saying - that compression in his chest extends into his stomach and makes him feel uncomfortable all over; it twists up inside of him so tight that he should tell his commander that there’s something wrong with his functionality.

The younger man sets a hand on his commander’s shoulder and the soldier feels like his vision tilts to the side as fingertips press in hard enough that he can see the way Rumlow’s shirt dips around the pressure.

He doesn’t consciously make a decision to move - even if he could, he’s been given orders to stay where he is, orders from his commander that should override everything else but it’s too late to stop, he’s already moving; the soldier’s hands find purchase against Agent Cole’s back, pushing the younger man forward hard and fast enough that there’s no time for the agent to react.

The soldier follows the movement, crushing his body up along the agent’s back; he doesn’t remember putting a hand along the crown of the younger man’s head but it’s there, forcing the agent’s face back before shoving it up against the hallway wall with a startling, sickening crack - Agent Cole’s breath goes pained, sounding wet like there’s already blood in flooding into his mouth.

“Soldat.”

One word over the rushing sound of pounding in his ears.

He stumbles back, turning to face his commander and only peripherally noticing the way that the other agent’s body slumps down onto the hardwood floor.

The soldier hears the snap, loud over everything else and goes to his knees in front of Rumlow; his commander’s dark eyes are narrowed, mouth pulled into a frown and his insides twist up even more - there’s another sound in his throat, low and keening.

“Report.” Rumlow says and the soldier can hear the anger in his commander’s voice.

“Agent Cole was too close to the commander.” the soldier starts, his head struggles to make sense of the original cause of the violence he’d just done to Agent Cole - he feels his mouth open and close, his hand moves to his stomach, to where the tangled-up feeling lives, “Uncomfortable tightness here.”

“Uncomfortable tightness,” Rumlow repeats, saying the words slowly like the commander is testing them out, trying to understand and find the correct punishment for the way the soldier disobeyed.

“Jesuschrist,” the commander’s second starts and the soldier tenses along his shoulders - he hadn’t even noticed Agent Rollins moving to collect the younger agent from the floor, “it’s fucking jealous Brock.”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember day8 #cara writes #cara gifs #playing catch up again #bucky tag #rumlow tag #hydra agent cole tag #(my sweet smol bean)#rollins tag

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faux-ee · 1 year

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I posted 3,543 times in 2022

That's 2,736 more posts than 2021!

737 posts created (21%)

2,806 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kyouka-supremacy

@colourofthekites

@grishaverse-chaos

@chenechen

@akhlys-san

I tagged 1,669 of my posts in 2022

#fyolai - 51 posts

#dabihawks - 50 posts

#bsd - 33 posts

#bungo stray dogs - 19 posts

#personal - 18 posts

#spotify - 17 posts

#asks <3 - 16 posts

#bkdk - 14 posts

#soukoku - 13 posts

#sskk - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#it was so unfeeling and repetitive and like. sir. i can’t relate to ur experiences and u aren’t doing a very good job making me care abt it

My Top Posts in 2022:

bungo stray dogs is a piece of media thats so filled with tumblr energy. Its like a collective mass hallucination of famous author fanfiction with just the right amount of derangedness, mental illness, generational trauma and existential crisis. Each and every character gives major gender envy. Everything is enemies to lovers to enemies to freinds to lovers to enemies. Everything the characters do is high-key illegal and everyone agrees that old guys in the government r useless except for this one triple spy who's sleep deprived to a fault. There is a guy who is chronically online and absolutely cannot leave his futon. There's another guy who could write novels in days and is more attached to a racoon than the rest of the world. bram stoker listens to spotify. bsd is the true tumblr-esque media.

Edit: and as it often appears bsd characters become each other's blorbos. They wanna hug each other they wanna see them going through the undying pain of human existence they spin them around in a mental microwave or smth

Edit edit: also tumblrinas love literary analysis and bsd is full of literary motifs

420 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

ranpoe actually foils fyolai bcs when poe had his mind set on killing ranpo he had a moment of realization that he wouldn't know how to live in a world w/o him, and several chapters after he became besties w/ ranpo, but nikolai already knows that fyodor is his intimate friend, there will never be another person like fyodor for him, yet still decided to kill him, bcs he "wants freedom more than any kind of joy"

434 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

Kacchan is the only thing Izuku allows himself to have

and it's why Izuku’s always vague when it came to the intensity of his feelings about Kacchan & why Katsuki at first instinctively pushed Izuku away.

idk if anyone has done this before, but anyways here's my fav aspect abt BakuDeku's relationship: Izuku's possessiveness over Kacchan and Kacchan only.

So I've been thinking abt Kamino a lot, and specifically two scenes: a) Izuku shouting "Give him back to me!" to Mr. Compress, and b) Izuku's devastated scream after Bakugo was taken away.

Izuku is an extremely selfless person, with only the heart for "saving people". That was part of the reason why he was almost immune to Katsuki's bad attitude towards him: dude doesn't think about himself a whole lot, alright. He's just kind of out of it. An observer. He wants to focus on his own feelings much less than he cares about others.

When have you seen Izuku do something for himself? Sure, he wanted to become a hero, he wrote 13 notebooks' worth of hero analyses. But this may as well only be an exertion of his obsession abt quirks & strategies, because despite all the talk about his dream, he never actually thought to exercise and improve his body strength before he got the OFA.

Here's an idea: Izuku doesn't know how to do things for himself, unless given a larger purpose. He takes little care of his own ambition before taking the world's weight onto his shoulders.

And he is subconsciously avoiding any selfish thinking, especially any private feelings he has about Kacchan, platonic or otherwise.

He doesn't know what has triggered the blackwhip; can't remember what Kacchan told him before almost sacrificing himself to save him; doesn't remember whatever made him go berserk in battle. He acted like none of this emotional turmoil he experienced happened at all and went back to being this people-saving, smiling sunshine every. single. time. Even after Kamino, his first thought was Kouta, except that after Todoroki mentioned Katsuki, the light returned to his eyes and he finally broke down.

Izuku actively avoids thinking about anything that causes strong emotions to erupt in him, yes, but more importantly, even when he is recounting these experiences to others, he omits whatever part that concerns Kacchan (i.e. when he told his classmates “I couldn’t save what was in front of me” - right, but Izuku, why are you describing Kacchan as if he is just anyone else instead of the person you have looked up to for all your life?)

He doesn’t allow himself to be selfish, to be partial, to treat Kacchan as somone special even when that’s what he does (notice how he’s always going like “Kacchan and the others”).

Let’s look at what he said to Mr. Compress again: “Give him back to me!”

Didn’t he almost sound like a child who was robbed of his favorite toy?

Why would he feel such possessiveness over Kacchan, though?

Kacchan is Izuku’s Symbol of Victory, right? Izuku follows him, admires him, idolizes him (”closer to me than All Might, this amazing person in my life”). Here it is: Kacchan has been somewhat of an idol to Izuku, the incarnation of victory.

Kacchan was part of Izuku’s definition of heroism; and heroism, to Izuku, is almost like a religious belief. He draws strength from it, uses it to cope with the pain of being quirkless, and admires All Might as one might do any deity.

I’m going to go a little further here: when one prays to whatever deity one believes in, one is often praying to this concept inside one’s head, and taking what one needs from this private connection. Similarly, Izuku feels possessive over Kacchan because the latter to him is something of a god-like character, from the attachment to whom Izuku draws his desire to win. To Izuku, Kacchan is not just the Symbol of Victory. It’s his Symbol of Victory.

Katsuki is his. His sun, his god, his drive to win.

Izuku, who is so selfless that he rarely wants things for himself, doesn’t want to acknowledge that he can, in fact, be a little selfish when it comes to Kacchan.

Meanwhile, as Mr. Compress had stated, Bakugo doesn't belong to anybody. And with such a big ego Bakugo would hate to be anything but independent. Something about Izuku made him want to keep his childhood friend at arm's length; he felt as if Izuku was stronger than him, looking down on him - and where does he get this feeling? Because Izuku offered to help him once at four? Stood up to him a couple of times?

There is another dimension to it, I think: it was also because Izuku had always followed him. And Katsuki, being the kind to always over-think, could mistake Izuku's possessiveness for Izuku seeing himself above him.

If an independent person ever finds himself on the receiving end of such possessiveness, he would feel chained, scared, and pissed off. Don't come, Deku, I don't want anything to do with you because the way you stick with me as if I belong to you, it almost chains me down.

Thanks for bearing with my shipping brainrot xD

445 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

B-B-Boyfriend? Like a guy who your body moved on its own for when he was in danger? Who you've grown up with? Activated a whole new quirk for?

550 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

being invested in bsd is such a unique experience bcs u watch the anime and think oh theres mafia and detectives and terrorists this shit's so hardcore and then u open bsd wan and they r kindergarteners and magical girls and princesses and ur just like. look at my cute little uwus <3 and then u read the manga and was hit with like three different schools of philosophical thoughts and suddenly become interested in classical novels with rlly deep themes and start to develop an existential crisis. its like yeah i watched an anime abt super powers and it all went downhill from there lol

993 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

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29pageshomestuckeveryday · 1 year

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Homestuck, page 2,003

Karkat: Leave your room.

You step outside your respiteblock, onto one of your hive's numerous extraterraneal landing slats. You were allowed to design this hive when you were young, after you emerged victorious from your trials deep in the brooding caverns. You have lived here with your CUSTODIAN ever since. It's almost as if your people have placed great cultural importance on teaching children to become architecturally adept while very young. It has been this way since ancient times. No one seems to know why that is. Getting to build your own hive at a young age using whatever meandering design you chose likely has left you jaded to the notion of customizing your abode. You certainly wouldn't get all that worked up about a game that happened to allow you to do such a thing. At least not for that reason.

Author commentary: Hivebent comes at you fast. It throws so much at you in such compressed narrative spaces. There are a few reasons for this. First, we're plot-rebooting, as I've already pointed out a couple times, so we necessarily have to move through some pedestrian beats very swiftly. Much more so than we did in Act I, or else it would turn the pacing syrup we're already somewhat mucking with here into pacing cement. Second, we're getting an absolute MEGADOSE of alien worldbuilding so we can familiarize ourselves with the terms and culture of this planet, in order to better understand an actual story that originates there. The one we're about to read. So all this stuff comes in pretty hot for a couple hundred pages. In this instance we learn that the kids get to build their own houses. That's neat! Also that troll babies come out of caves, guardians are custodians, whatever that means, and the planet's customs appear to be oriented around knowledge of Sburb. Keeping up???

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imagination-is-key-in-my-world · 3 years

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Awkward Encounters

Authors Note: At first, I was going to write this as the reader being in Tessa’s perspective but then I thought that it would be too much of a copyright. There may be some similarities to the story but I have written Tessa in as a separate party. Tessa is still with Noah in this. Also, I will be referencing parts from both the movie and the novels. In this particular fanfiction Tristan is a girl, like the movie.

Summary: You are a freshman at college and your life there started pretty normally. Your best friend is Tristan who is dating Steph who is roommates with Tessa. That was until you went to a party with Tristan and the girls. You had no idea that the mysterious British boy was going to intervene when you come face to face with the Bitch that is Molly.

Warning: Swearing

Pairing: Reader x Hardin Scott

Word Count: 4,423

“Come on Tristan, I told you.” I moan. “I can’t go to another party; I am still recovering from the last one.” I cling to a cold compress, trying my best to shield my eyes from the light that is seeping in through the open door.

Tristan threw a pack of Ibuprofen onto my lap that she snooped around in my bag for. “If it’s that bad, take one of these and get your butt out of that bed.” I groan at the impact from the small box just for the effect. “Don’t be a baby and get up.”

I roll over on the bed to face the wall. “Can’t you just go with Steph?”

“No!” She abruptly spat out. “I want to go with you. Steph is bringing Tessa and I don’t want to show up alone.”

“But you will be with her when you’re there. What’s the point in me getting out of this lovely cocoon that I have made, just to walk you to the party?”

Tristan had her head bent over, pulling her hair into a high ponytail on the top of her head. “You know that what you just said was the whole point.” She sighed. “Everyone is going to stare at me when I walk in there all on my lonesome.”

I eyed the short revealing dress that she was pulling onto her petite and envious body. “You know everyone will be staring at you no matter what if you wear that.” I laugh. “Those legs are going to be the headliner for that party.”

Tristan winked at me and continued adding more accessories to her ever-growing ensemble. “That my dear naïve British friend is the goal of this outfit.” She dropped to her knees faster than I could pry open the antibiotic wrapper. Gripping onto my hand she pulled me away from my mission to rid the world of the swirling furniture before my very eyes. “Y/N, if you do not go, I will literally never talk to you ever again.”

I raised my eyebrow at the sight before me. “Is that a promise.” I bravely say.

“Y/N! Please!”

“Fine alright. Give me five minutes.” I surrender, using every ounce of strength that I had left to lift myself from my comfy nest. “But you owe me, big time.” Tristan’s arms were around my neck faster than I could respond. Her soft lips that I am sure Steph adores, pressed against my forehead.

“I love you so much Miss Y/L/N!” She squealed.

I let out a stiff laugh as I saunter off to the bathroom to sort whatever state I currently appeared to be in.

***

“You know, when you said that this was going to be a cool night for us both? When did I factor into the equation?” I scoff, lifting the red solo cup to my lips. The bitter taste made my stomach curl, but what was worse was not drinking around all these over-the-top drunk people.

Tristan was straddling Steph on the sofa by the side of me. These two did not understand the true definition of PDA and why some people may find it uncomfortable. Including myself.

I inch further down the sofa that was unsurprisingly very sticky. If I wasn’t feeling queasy when I turned up, I certainly felt it now. I try to distract myself from the fact that I had to peel my legs from the leather material just to cross them. The sound was very unflattering.

“Why are you in my seat?” I roll my eyes the minute I recognised the irritating voice that filled me with angst and hatred from across the room. Molly Samuels. Her whole presence just irritates me, and it appears that I am not the only one with this response. I gaze over to my left to see Tessa shaking her head at the general distaste she had for the girl. I lift my cup up to Tessa who shyly mimics. ‘To stuck up bitches, ay?’ I say to myself, quietly so that she couldn’t hear.

Molly pushed Zed Evans and his girlfriend for the night out of her shitty throne causing his date to land hard on her arse. I am sure it wasn’t the first time that Molly has done this to declare her ‘power’ to the whole room. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The blonde cried as Zed attempted to pick her up from the floor which was soaked in alcohol.

“Does this brat literally think she can talk to me right now?” Molly scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Turning to her so-called friends for approval of her comment and actions.

“What did you just call me?” The poor young girl shook off Zed’s protective arm and stepped right in front of Molly’s nose. Probably not the best move, but I have always found that Molly needed taking down a peg or two.

“You heard me, loud and clear” She popped her tongue on the letter ‘l’ in loud. “A little slutty brat who thinks for a second that Zed will call her back after he fucks her tonight.” Molly’s teeth were snarling almost like a wild animal.

“At least I’m not a bitchy whore who thinks that everyone here is her friend.” There were a couple ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ almost as if we were at a panto and not a college party after Zed’s girl’s response.

The second Molly let the words register her hand was leaving that poor girl’s cheek, along with a bright red handprint in its place.

“What the fuck, Molly!” I heard the words clear as day, but I never in a million years imagined that they would come from my mouth. But there I was, standing right in front of Molly, shielding the young girl from another blast to the face.

I could hear people whispering behind my back. ‘What is she doing?’ ‘Is she stupid or something?’ ‘Does she not know what Molly is like?’ Despite being close friends with Tristan, I never would have expected her to step up to defend me, especially when Molly Samuels was involved. She stayed on Steph’s lap; eyes bugged open. Utterly frozen.

“Wow Y/N? Get involved in other people’s business much? Just because your life is too sad, you feel like you can insert yourself into other people’s.” I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt to rattle me. “You’re just a sad little virgin that no body wants around. Tristan only invited you tonight for her own benefit. Just look around, you don’t fit in here.”

I stay silent. I may have only spoken up once tonight, but that was enough for me. Frat parties are my least favourite place to be. The only reason I came here tonight was for Tristan. I should have left the minute she started making out with the red-haired beauty.

“Cat got your tongue now, bitch.” Molly’s face was inches from mine and I choked on the strong aroma of alcohol on her breath. “Oh, wait I forgot, the girl doesn’t own a backbone.” There were a few stifled laughs here and there. Zed stayed silent, as did Tristan and Steph. None of them making the effort to stand up for me. “Let me guess. Tristan batted her big eyes at you and begged you to come tonight, didn’t she? Then ditched you the moment someone prettier came into the picture.”

I gulp back the bile that I knew had risen to the back of my throat. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm. Oh, better yet, get on a fucking plane and fly back to shitty England. We could only get lucky and hope the thing crashes with you inside it.”

“That’s enough Molly!” The voice behind me held a British twang similar to my own. A voice I had only heard about but never actually seen. The bad boy, Hardin Scott.

Hardin Scott was attractive. Since I got here, I knew he was the talk of the college. Everybody knew who he was and that he wasn’t good news. His white shirt displayed his various tattoos clearly through the thin and tight fabric. His black hair was pushed back to show his piercing eyes and anger set eyebrows. His eyes never left Molly who was stood behind me.

“Oh, Hardin you know I am only messing with the virgin.” She forces a small laugh. “It’s not like I can control the planes is it.” Her head tilts to the side as her gaze locks onto mine, only to intimidate. “I mean I wish I could.” She muttered so that only the people stood around her could hear.

“Do you ever know when to stop!” Hardin barks, not acknowledging me physically. “Do you ever think that you’re the one that people don’t want around?” He questions, moving slowly across the room. I hadn’t noticed but the volume of the once booming music had been lowered to a slight hum in the background.

Hardin was now stood right beside me glaring down at Molly who mimicked his stance. “Ding Ding. Come on guys let’s just drop it!” Nate calls over when he noticed their glares on each other were far from breaking.

Molly was the first to move. “You’re right Nate.” She coos. “Let’s play a game.” She scans the room of her so-called posy who all appeared to be done with her shit for the night. “It’s Friday night. We need to play a game. I will even let the little virgin here play along, too.”

I am very aware that all the eyes were now back on me.

This wasn’t something that I wanted to be a part of. It took me what felt like an eternity to move my feet across the room to where Tristan was sitting. “I am going to head back to the dorms.” I declare quietly to her, but I can tell that they are all listening.

“No please stay, it won’t be the same if you go.” Tristan reaches for my hand which I pull away.

I don’t know why I am letting Molly’s words sink in so much. Everybody who knows her knows that she is full of herself and couldn’t give a shit who she hurts.

“No, it’s late.” It was only nine. “And I have assignments that are due.” I lie, they are all finished. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

I start towards the door but I can hear Tristan calling after me to stay.

As I reach the front door to the frat house, I hear Molly’s voice loud and clear. “So, Hardin truth or dare?”

***

The walk back to the dorms was anything but peaceful. The cars were loud and honking at me as they passed. Classy.

I reach for my phone in my bag. I could do with tuning out the world for this half hour walk back in the dark. But my fingers only find a vibrant red lipstick that I couldn’t pull off in a million years.

I stop dead in my tracks. This was Steph’s bag; I grabbed the wrong one during my never-ending embarrassment.

I couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t go further either. Where was I supposed to go, Steph’s key wasn’t in here so it’s not like I could sleep in her room for the night. No cash, key or phone meant that I had no other choice. I had to suck it up and go back.

“Fuuuck!” I shout, not caring that I startled an elderly woman who was placing a rubbish bag in her bin just outside her front door.

“Not a very ladylike thing to say.” I hear a mocking chuckle behind me causing me to jump out of my skin.

When I turn around, I am greeted by the tall British bad boy covered in ink standing about 6 foot in front of me.

His head cocks to the side when I don’t answer him. “You don’t say much, do you?” My eyes scan over his attire, black ripped jeans, white top, and a jet-black leather jacket. “But you do stare a lot, don’t you?” That British chuckle makes it’s second appearance tonight.

“What do you want?” I blurt out, shaking my head at the fact that I was indeed caught staring at the boy.

He steps a little closer to me, closing the gap between us ever so slowly. I watch in amazement at how sexy he makes walking look. “You left this at the party.” I hadn’t realised that he had extended his hand to reveal a clutch bag. My clutch bag.

“Oh!” I speak. “Thanks.” I take the bag from him and prepare myself for the walk back.

“Don’t take any notice of Molly. She is a bitch.”

“Yep.” I chip in, turning to walk back towards the college dorm rooms.

I only get a few steps ahead when I feel a cold sensation wrap around my bare arm. Why the fuck didn’t I bring a coat? I gaze down at the hand that is pressed to my skin. “Where are you going?” He softly says. His tone and action were not at all forceful but something about him made me shiver with fear deep inside the pit of my stomach. I was warned about Hardin Scott. Tristan said that he wasn’t exactly good news around her group of friends. Acting with his fists before connecting his words, that’s what she said at least.

“H-Home.” I stutter, half from the interaction, half from how fucking cold it was. I straighten up. “I am going home.”

“Alone?” He jumps in straight away.

I don’t answer. I just look back at his hand around my arm.

“S-sorry.” He stutters, removing his hand from my arm. “It’s just it’s a long way back to the dorms and it is late.”

I shrug my shoulders at his declaration. “I know.” I simply say and start to walk again but I am blocked by the gorgeous boy standing in front of me. “Oh fuck, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No of course not!” He blurts.

“Good! Now could you” I gesture to the fact that he is stood directly in my path. He catches on to my hint and steps aside.

“You’re not going to walk there alone, are you?” His voice sounding desperate.

I spin and mockingly look around for people, lifting my hand to shield my eyes as I continue my search. This provokes a choked sigh from Hardin. Once I am satisfied with my ‘search’ I say “yep” and continue to walk.

“But it is late.” He chimes in again walking backwards trying desperately not to break my gaze as I try desperately to avoid his. “And you’re alone.”

“Yes, we have established this.” I mock, glaring at the stoned pavement or sidewalk ahead of me.

Hardin reaches both hands out in front of himself creating a wall which stops me from taking another step. “What is your problem?”

I take a step back, alarmed at his outburst. “My problem. You’re the one who has continuously blocked my way for the past ten minutes.” I bark. I try to move around him but he doesn’t budge, copying my actions to stay ahead of me.

“I am trying to offer my services.” Hardin exclaimed but then scowled at his choice of words. I too have a hard time accepting the word ‘services.’ Just as I go to argue he opens his mouth. “Fuck that’s not what I meant to say.” His hands instantly dart to push his hair back out of his face. A nervous tick I assume. What did he have to be nervous about? He is the one stalking after college girls at half 9 at night.

“Look can we start over?” He offers shoving his hands into his jacket. My arms promptly raise to cover my bare arms where goosebumps have started to form. Why didn’t I bring a jacket? “Could I possibly walk you back to the dorms?” His eyes dropped to the ground to stare at a pebble that he toyed with his shoe. Was he anxious?

“Why?” I question fairly quickly.

“I just want to make sure that you get back safe!” His tone wasn’t very friendly. I cock my head to one side. “Sorry, that came out bad.” His tone softening. “I just didn’t like the way that Molly spoke to you earlier and I also hate the fact that you would be walking back in this sketchy neighbourhood alone.”

“Fine.”

***

We walk all the way back to the dorms in silence. Hardin looked uncomfortable the entire time as if he were being forced to be here. I sure as hell did not make him.

I pull the key from my bag and slot it into the lock on the door. Pushing the door slightly open I stand with my arms still draped across my shivering body in the doorway. “Well, thanks for walking me back and bringing me my bag.”

Hardin didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on my body, traveling from my legs to my face. His face turned a shade of white when his eyes caught up to mine. “Fuck!” He announced.

“What!” I jump at his sudden change in demeaner.

“Your lips.” He gestures to my trembling lips that haven’t stopped shaking since I stepped outside of the frat house. “They are fucking blue!” Panic surges over him as he rakes his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” He started passing back and fourth in front of me.

“There wasn’t much you could do.” I counter. “My own stupid fault for not bringing a coat.”

I walk inside the room and grab a jacket and throw it on over my shaking body. Hardin enters after me and grabs my hand carefully. “Fuck lot that will do.” He picks up a towel and drags me back down the hallway.

I try to pull my arm back but it is no use. “Where the hell are you taking me?” I say a little too loud. Silently cursing myself if I may have woken up any of the other students living down this dorm.

“The showers now come on.” He tugs a little harder as his feet guide me towards the shared bathroom just a few floors down from my own.

As we reach the bathroom, Hardin throws the towel over the railing and reaches in to turn on the water. I couldn’t help but watch his every move. “Get in!” He cries. Gesturing to the box that was filling with tempting hot steam.

I hesitate. “Y/N, get in the fucking shower.” I jump, not at his tone. But at the fact that he used my name. How did he even know it? Oh right, he was at the party when Molly was insulting me. “If you don’t start undressing now, I will have to start doing it for you.”

I raise an eyebrow but decline his offer, stepping into the box and pulling the curtain across to shield my naked body.

***

Hardin was right, I needed that shower. I hadn’t realised how cold I had gotten from that walk home. I stood in that shower for what felt like half the evening.

I shut off the water and begin to pull the curtain slightly across so that I could reach for the towel that Hardin had placed on the rail when Hardin’s hand slips through holding the towel between his fingers.

“Thanks.” I mutter, draping it around my soaking body.

I step out to find that Hardin’s hair has dropped and started to stick to his forehead in places from the steam. His eyes dart up and down my body, quietly.

I am the first one to break the silence as we stand there in the shared bathroom. “So, I should um, probably get back to my room.”

I watch as Hardin lets my words break him from his still stance. “Yeah, um, after you.” He holds his arm out and follows me out of the bathroom. Something has shifted in Hardin. Tonight, I have seen him; angry, intimidating, shy, solemness and lost for words. It was a lot to take in during a short period of time.

I open the dorm door and step inside. When I hear the door shut, I jump and almost drop the towel. “Shit, sorry I didn’t mean for the door to shut so loudly.” He curses under his breath.

“It’s okay.” I mutter. I cling to the towel as I stare back at Hardin who hasn’t moved or made any effort to leave.

“Y/N?” Hardin’s voice softer than ever tonight, bringing my eyes to meet his. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?” My words coming out slowly. His head dropped to face the floor. Was he trying to count the flecks of glitter on the carpet from Tristan’s body butter or something?

“Why didn’t you say that you were cold?” I roll my eyes, this again. Crossing my arms over my stomach.

“Like I said, there wasn’t anything you could have-”

“I could have given you my jacket.” He interjects. Taking a step closer to me. His body was merely a foot away from mine.

“But then you would have been the one with the blue lips.” I counter. Tilting my head to the side in a modest challenging manner.

This stirred something within Hardin, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know that he isn’t used to a woman not agreeing with every word that comes out of his mouth.

I suddenly shake my head as I feel a slight chill spread up my back. I am still in my towel and now I am very much aware of that. Quickly I turn away from his locked-on gaze.

“Can I have some privacy please.” I mumble, not able to turn around to face him. “I need to, uh, get changed.” I add.

Hardin lets out a small grunt but eventually I do hear the click of my dorm-room door close. I don’t know why but I feel a shed of disappointment at the fact that he listened and actually left.

It takes my hands what feels like hours to release the tight grip that I held on to the towel. Allowing it to fall onto the floor.

“You know what-” I hear the click of the door and his voice fill my ears. I jump from my spot in the middle of the room. He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead Hardin slams the door behind him. “Fuck!” His eyes firm but glued on my body.

I quickly try to grab the towel up off the floor, but it is no use. Hardin instantly placed his foot over the soggy material. “Don’t.” He lets that one word fall from his lips as he slowly continues to decrease the distance between us.

“Hardin!” I shout. “Give-” I can’t finish my argument as I find his finger is placed over the top of my lips.

Hardin doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head. His soft hand moves from my lips and trails off to my cheek, holding me in place. My eyes locked onto his own, frozen in place. I watch as his eyes bounce from my own to my lips, seeking permission. His other hand snaked its way around and laid itself on the small of my back, pulling my naked body closer to his.

I was completely thrown off by the audacity of my body responding to his touch, bringing me to him. Everything happened in slow motion from the second we were back in my room. I knew that Hardin was trouble, everybody did. But no one actually prepares you for a moment like this. Where you are stood in front of a gorgeous guy whose whole attention you own. Did I say he was gorgeous?

I shake my head breaking the eye contact trance I was in. “Har-”

“You’re so beautiful.” He interrupts, breaking right through the barrier I was desperately trying to build. Correction, he shattered the wall to pieces and I find myself pushing my lips aggressively against his, hungry for the contact.

It takes him a second to return the haste in my actions within his own. Moving his lips to mimic the speed that I had set for him. It took no time at all for that jacket that he kept holding over me for not taking since we got back to the room to be thrown onto the floor, revealing the crisp white T-shirt underneath.

His hand wandered lower to lay slightly above my bare arse. While my hands slithered up underneath his shirt. Desperate to feel the skin underneath and to trace the ink that it held. The hand that rested on my cheek now held tightly to the back of my neck making it impossible to break the kiss, not that I wanted to.

I could stay like this forever, kissing Hardin has awoken something inside me that I didn’t even know existed. This overwhelming hunger for his contact. I tug a little on the hair on the back of his head which in response summoned a deep growl from Hardin that I didn’t think I was prepared to hear. Any sense of doubt that we should stop kissing left my mind the second I heard that sound.

“Y/N? You would not believe what you missed after-” Tristan stood in the open doorway, her mouth held open just as wide.

Fuck. I jump back from Hardin and scramble for the towel, concealing my naked form from my roommate. I look over to Hardin who didn’t look at all affected by the events in the last ten seconds.

“I can tell your busy so I will just, yeah.” Tristan steps back and shuts the door behind her.

I run into the closet and quickly throw on a set of underwear and a long-oversized shirt that came down to lie just beneath my arse. “I think it’s about time I start locking that door.” I joke as I step through the closet door.

My eyes roam the room for the handsome boy I was just making out with only to be greeted with an empty room. My shoulders fall, “I guess that’s goodbye.” I mumble, trying my best to hold myself together. Locking the door before falling onto my bed.

Part 2?

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applesontheground · 2 years

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close for comfort 💉

remember like three months ago when i said i was going to be posting a poly fic soon? soon has come. i got a little shy about posting it at the last second for whatever reason, but then i decided to just power through and throw it out here anyways ;;

this was my very self indulgent way of realizing i had a crush on both dan and herbert. i like them together, but i also can’t stop thinking about wedging in between them either...idk, they just make me happy haha.

also, if you like this, i have another thing for these two that i plan to finish up in the next week, as well. i hope you guys like it!!

NSFW | Word Count: 2,117 | Herbert West x AFAB Reader (GN pronouns) x Daniel Cain

contains: polyamory/threesome, fingering, hickeys, slightly unstable relationship feels but i gave it a happy ending (you know me 😊 )

🎼: x, x

You blinked, a deep shiver going up your back but straining your expression to stay rigid even as it reached the top of your spine. It was impossible not to look at Dan with him knee to knee with you, taking all angles of your vision as he caught his breath, running his wrist over his mouth.

His body jolted slightly, shoulders rolling in a giggle from behind his arm at the shocked expression plastered on your face. It was all you could manage after he had been mouthing along your neck, a couple choice marks pooling the blood beneath the surface. One rested on your collarbone, and then another had been planted further up under your ear. It took everything in you not to wince while he worked, but in turn it cost you your critical thinking. You weren’t even considering what you would have to do in order to conceal them in the morning, still reliving the feeling of his tongue against your pulse with a far off stare.

If you could get him to do that again, you just might give him the satisfaction of letting yourself come.

With vicious stirring in your gut, you locked eyes with him again, the only part of your face that gave away just how close you were to cracking. Everything else stayed still, even tried to relax now that he was done. Ghosts of breath against your skin coupled with saliva that lingered was making your vision swim; the man had enough body heat to make the room feel like it was holding you in place with intense waves brushing over your body even after he pulled away.

Your inner muscles twisted again, heat alongside pleasure making you have to swallow another groan. A cold front prodding within your walls made you suck in a breath, trying not to cross your eyes or pick up into panting. Dan’s close contact had only made Herbert’s frigid hands all the more impossible to ignore. His middle finger gave another experimental prod upwards, hitting the sensitive spot deep inside a second time and making you flinch, even deterring on constricting your breath entirely to keep something from clawing its way out. When you clenched around him, his free hand braced you from behind, settled on your shoulder and providing a mere space of reprieve to the flustered skin.

Your faltering expression was something impossible for him to catch with your back to him, but Dan muttered, “Maybe we should stop, [he/she looks / they look] like [he’s/she’s/they’re] about to fall over.”

You grit your teeth at him, and Herbert muttered, “Really now? [Y/N], you’ve been doing so well with keeping composure as far as I’ve observed. How close are you, really?” His middle finger had been inside you, but the questioning was only a distraction as he took his index with it now, stretching you even more and making your fists twist at the covers around your knees. An impossible pressure was seizing your body, but still you remained quiet. You gave Dan a silent ‘fuck you’ in the form of a knotted brow as the goosebumps sprang up from your bare thighs and arms, and you let the exhale out in a slow compression of your chest.

“Don’t be so stubborn, it is your turn.” Herbert reminded you, craning his neck so that he was speaking directly in your ear. You retorted in a voice that had fallen a shade huskier since you had last spoke, “It’s not necessary.”

Dan tilted his head at you and hummed, “Bullshit, you’re staring at me like a beaten dog. Come on,” His hand ran over the marks on your neck, making you clench your jaw again as you willed back another sigh, closing your eyes to hide their want. The tracing of your veins by his careful movements were immediately coupled by the cold digit pulling out of your cunt in favor of your clit, rubbing with trained precision.

“Were those necessary, Dan?” Herbert questioned, swinging his head around your shoulder length to stare at you from the other side, tracing the hickeys as he chided, “Everyone’s going to be seeing those tomorrow, and I believe you were the one that said…” He paused, and the man in front of you gave him a testy glance. When he settled his chin close to your pulse on the other side again, and the silence pressed against your core from meticulous movements between your legs, you started to shake slightly as Dan muttered, “At one point, I cared about people knowing. If you don’t think it’s an issue, neither do I. I don’t mind that people know we’re close.”

“Close?” Herbert pressed down on you again until his hand was trembling from the exertion, taking hold of your hip instead of your shoulder to keep you planted and making your teeth clamp on your bottom lip with the same force. Somehow, you still felt the chill from his skin despite it working against all the heat, forcing a breath through your nostrils. He prodded, “Is that what we call this?”

“Herbert-“

“Close is rather chaste word choice when you’re coming all over [Y/N]’s stomach.”

Dan cupped your jaw, distracted now as he glared at your second head. He muttered, “Don’t make [him/her/them] feel off about this. You’re the one who acts like you want nothing to do with it,” His eyes flickered back to yours for a beat, “and then turn around and stick your fingers in both of us.”

“I’m making [Y/N] feel off? Hm.” The murmur in your ear made another wave fall over you, and finally your mouth fell open.

“If you two keep touching me, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You startled both of them out of the banter, caving in multiple aspects as their eyes snapped to your twitching expression. You rolled your shoulders, unable to look at either of them as you let the silence choke you into submission again, but it was no use: you were huffing rapidly, having a hard time reigning yourself in as your eyes flickered from the body in front of you to what you could see of the hand between your thighs. Every breath came out as a strained hum in your chest, sputtering in the way you tried to fight it.

The hand that wasn’t holding your jaw was now trailing down your stomach, Dan locked in with an awed expression to the way you fought against a moan, and you couldn’t help but give him an honest sigh as your own hands finally rose from their sides, tracing between the valley of his pecs before settling over where you’d think his heart to be, searching for the unquestionably human thud.

“…Thought so.” Herbert spoke delicately but in a quick sleight of hand barred his arm around your shoulders. You were pulled into his chest as he suddenly began to move his wrist under you, fingers sliding in and out with ease. Startled, you nearly lost your balance as you rested the back of your head against his collarbone. Your fingers were curled, inadvertently clawing at Dan’s chest as you were jostled slightly.

The pressure snapped harshly in your core, and anyone listening from the outside the room might think they were raising you from the dead.

It wasn’t every night you got them both in bed like this. It should have been all the reason to enjoy it, but something was making you hesitate. Like it wasn’t right, or even that you weren’t meant to be there. That was a mislead sentiment, you tried to assure yourself, but each time you closed your eyes to settle it would persist, and your stare shot right at the ceiling again. The fact that you had ended up in the middle of the bed wasn’t helping, stuck on your back unless you wanted to turn towards someone on either side.

Still coming down from the high of being thrown into an orgasm after they had dragged their feet with it, caught up in some undertone neither of them were quite sure of that had slid from the dark in their conversation, you kept the covers over your chest with a weak clench. Every blink was a gentle wash of the tide over your mind.

We’re close. The very recollection found one hand on your side, feeling the spot on your body that had been missed in cleaning up. One day, all three of you were onboard with the idea. Other days, Dan would refuse to talk about anything besides what he did at work that day, or Herbert felt more like a mere word on your tongue instead of a physical body in the house. He was always just out of sight; that was how it started, and despite these developments giving him more reason to be around you two, there was still something in the way.

There had to be, you told yourself. It could very well be you. These thoughts weren’t often, your schedule just as prominent and preoccupying as theirs. It was in times like this, where you were the only one awake, that an uncertain weight sat on your chest.

“Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night, [Y/N]?”

Your hand that had been feeling your side came back up to rub the ache out of one of your eyes, and you replied quietly, “Sure hope not.” Dan’s undeniable warmth was settled over one shoulder, and he murmured, “Well, you can talk to me if you want. Can’t really sleep either.”

With that being said, you found it easier to turn and look at him, meeting those curious eyes and trying to assure them with a slight smirk. “You go first. Why are you still up?”

He looked down at your chest, bringing the side of his head down to rest comfortably on the curve of your shoulder, a warm reminder with the way he nudged against the chill of your skin. “I know you’re probably thinking about what we were saying.”

You attempted to bite the words back, but they couldn’t help themselves with how you revered the way his hair was tickling your skin, driving the need from you in a pang from your voice. You hummed, “Is close really what you want to call it? You can be honest, even if it’s something I...”

Don’t want to hear. You couldn’t say it, shrugging as you broke away to look at the eternity laying in the ceiling again. Even with the conversation being between the two of you, there was a shift on your other shoulder. It was a common sensation to feel as though the two of them were in either ear, but you were never quite sure who was the devil and who was the angel in that metaphor. Sometimes you weren’t even sure if there was a sliver of moral influence left between the three of you.

When Dan seemed to fall flat, staring at the side of your face while he tried to find the words to answer what he knew you were thinking, Herbert stepped in almost immediately. If you hadn’t already felt him hovering, he would’ve startled you.

“[Y/N] doesn’t just come up with these ideas.” Even his voice fell to an edgeless murmur, something different from what you usually heard when he spoke, “If we’re going to continue with these sorts of things, we may need to call it what it is.”

The hand curled over your ribcage, and in the face of uncertainty your breath hitched. It was enough of a sign to get you to slide back, rolling against his chest to allow his arm to pull fully around your torso. Both of you were looking at Dan, and you swallowed before asking, “What is this, Dan? I think I know the answer, but…I’m not saying it unless you do first.”

With no hesitance, Dan’s forehead was against yours, his hands running over Herbert’s to pull you in from the other side. “It’s love.” He breathed, not being shy with closing you in on either side. You settled your head in the crook of his shoulder, utterly protected by both of them as he repeated himself, lips on your temple. “What would this be without love?”

You looked up at him, smiling as you muttered, “A really unprofessional relationship between lab assistants, I guess.” The chuckle from over your shoulder was enough to finally put your qualms to bed, and make the two feel less like pressure from both sides – but rather some sort of barrier from the rest of the world.

#herbert west x reader x daniel cain #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #(THEY'RE SLASHERS TO ME DAMMIT)#notsfw #✏️#💉#idk why i got such cold feet about this one but!! i'm ready to be finished with it #i've been fighting with it in the drafts since the beginning of this year on top of other things ;;#sorry for the lack of tags too i didn't want to put it in the lone pairing tags tbh ;;#just in case that would make people mad ya feel me?

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 3 years

Text

Talking to the moon

The rumors and trauma lived inside his head in fact it ate him alive. Each and everyday lifeless and a black cloud hung over his head. Except when he received and a test message from an unknown number. He knew it was unknown for three reasons. 1) Everyone knew to not text him or disturb him unless he contacted them first. 2) He could recite his entire list of contacts over anything else in his life. And the third was that he didn’t know that this unknown message would change him forever.

Word count: 15,000 *im so sorryyyy*

This is another dreaded Bucky Barnes x reader fic.

Viewers beware you are in for a scare with the: fluff, Bucky is a wanna be alcoholic, blood, angst, cheesy tropes *wrong number,etc*, bad jokes, one liners, awkwardness, sexual innuendos, mentioned sexual harassment, suicidal thoughts, depression, murder, slight dark Bucky who’s just trying to get through life, Sam Wilson mentioned, astrology and planets, knifes, ptsd, nightmares and terrors, flashbacks, sad bitch Bucky missing Steven and using the reader as a better therapist then the certified one, she/her pronouns used for the reader, mostly from Buckys POV, she/you referring to the reader JOHN WALKER SLANDER NO HATE TO THE ACTOR, glass.

(This is dedicated to my friend, tiny adjustments to buckys story and I am dearly sorry if I didn’t write bucky true to his character!)

He choked awake on the air that never left his cold lungs, meanwhile, his skin was afire. A coat of sweat coated him, he slept shirtless since this occurred so often. Always waking in the depth of night to little to no light, only the low gleam of the moon shone through his window near his kitchen along with the soft luminosity of the television sat in front of the sofa. One that he refused to sleep on. He couldn't even sleep on the soft bed tucked in the back corner of the room down the hall in his apartment. He debated why he just wouldn't move into a studio apartment instead of the one he resides in.

He huffed staggeringly and his eyes falling to the ground, searching for something that was never there. Tranquility. His brain trying to calm itself in some form, it never worked it took hours for it to. Even then it never lasted. He suffers another day's trauma trying to sort the world back into order. Sam would often notice but knew to never ask him about it. He knew from the months working together asking and attempting to comfort Bucky often led to arguments. Bucky strongly knew this was nothing and that others were just blowing it out of proportion.

That also led to bias work and Bucky not doing his best, since Sam put him in a bad mood beforehand. Bucky went to therapy. He was more forced than offered, the government felt he was more of a ticking bomb than anything else. Bucky thought of it as more of a joke than anything.

There was no sense in for him to go to the sessions. He often found himself trying to find excuses to skip sessions. He thought that the past is the past and trying to fix it wasn't a possibility. Bucky dealt with it the way he could. He pushed it deep, deep, down in the roaring sea of his mind and dealt with it later. Only in his dreams did it resurface to haunt him. Always making him uptight and tired from the lack of sleep.

However, at this point, he was use to the torture of it all. His brain is his worst enemy. Through shaky breath fanned on his arm, he was crouched over his left leg up his metal arm resting over his knee his other arm holding his weight. He watched the glow of the tv, his chest heaved in exasperation.

Nothing piqued his interest in broadcasting. It was all the same mumbo jumbo of stereotypical things like romance, the reality that was depicting the species as inhumane, the comedy he didn't understand, only one channel did hold his interest.

Perhaps it worsened his mental state but he didn't care and it was the news. It was all the current disasters of the world and the avengers trying to stabilize the circumstances and the best part of it all how disturbing the world is. Even if his bringing was normal to where he is now, he'd most likely be a deeply tormented individual.

He nearly had heart failure when a banner at the bottom of the screen read "John Walker elected as the new Captain America." In blinding letters. Above the banner was John Walker himself standing in front of the podium a hand raised in a gesture to recognize the audience's howl.

Buckys head burst with memories of Hydra and the way it evoked him. The way of how Hydra forced him to be something he wasn't. John Walker was the perfect example of an alternate reality with a substitute Steve. Everything Steve was for John Walker was against.

Images flashed in his head. He put his hands on his head his natural one warm and clammy, in contrast to the bitter cold one. It just gave his flashbacks even more fuel. Living with a constant reminder of who he is. A monster.

He grabbed tightly onto his hair the strands were being plucked as this was being written. He felt small patches of balding from this happening so regularly. His legs parted and creased by the knees. His face strained into pain. His extensive wrinkles from age, noticeable, and worsened from him doing so.

His blanket thrown away to the side with disregard, he started to rock softly front and back. The wood floor burned his tailbone from him sitting on it for so long. Suddenly he felt a different pain. A killer one.

The beige cabinets thrown open papers and documents scattered everywhere. The dark grey of a ceiling of the shelter peered over him judgingly. His arm pushed down into the metal of the chair burned from the uncomfortable position. The bolts leaving deep indentions in his skin. The helmet pressed tightly to his skull leaving him render less against the horror of hearing the words. So many times he had to go through this routine, the monitors loud and buzzing. He bit down strenuously onto the guard in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. The electricity drumming into his head, his brain setting fire to its system, he feels it in his muscles, in his blood, the veins that pop in his neck. The tubes behind his head generated and pumped large amounts which umped higher and higher in velocity each time an activation word was spoken loud and clearly. Spat carelessly not in his mother's tongue, he would never think of the language to be beautiful only to be a monstrosity of the world one of the greatest. His dull fingernails dug into the chair it did nothing other than to give him some sort of balance. He screamed but it was muffled to an extent of the guard doing its purpose. "Daybreak."

The announcer spoke into the fuzzy black microphone that's the only word he made out to hear. The daily news report drone on for what of which he came back into reality.

He opened his azure eyes and looked to the left the window that sat in the middle of a pale white wall and his kitchen showed the red bloom of the sun and the tall buildings of the city.

He felt resentful towards the time of day since his flashbacks usually only lasted a minute or so.

Lately, they've grown in duration and that stroke dread into him. He was horrified that someone would say or do an act that would put him in a state of mind. One that he wished to not be in.

Somedays he just yearned to be left for dead in the snowfall of the forest. Notably, so far from the arm that was taken from him that it would be hidden to the world for eons. And from the pessimism of the clouds above him.

He grew irritably hot and damp from the excessive sweat he did to himself, he felt everything was his fault, enlisting, going on the train, helping Steve.

He hated himself for a moment realizing what he thought, he felt selfish for thinking that Steve did this to punish him. He sighed and laid his head tilted to the plastered ceiling.

His neck outstretched. His legs and his arm, limp from the compression of him tensing them for so long. His muscles trying their hardest to relax. His figure seeming to be the equivalent of a sack of potatoes.

He didn't care about how he presented, perhaps it was his past with being a soldier the constant thriving to be the strongest and the son of Hercules. He pushed so far that his body couldn't endure the strength he put it through.

Super soldier serum and all, he was still just a man. He was still human deep into the last atom of his DNA. His eyes nonchalantly examined his ceiling a soft pale white like the rest of his apartment, it reminded him of the moon outside.

If he were to take out his ceiling it'd be right above him. He was enamored by how it seemed to have an ever-lasting glow. He let out a shaky huff then fell ever quiet. Until the day grew old.

Yori had scheduled a lunch meeting earlier that week, they had a routine. Yori attended and Bucky paid. This happened every Wednesday they would meet up and discuss whatever they wished. Yori was just an old decaying man who lived in Chinatown, he lived across from Bucky's building. Yori was kind to the ones he knew.

It was otherwise to people he didn't. After Yori's son died it was hard to, if he only knew who Bucky was entirely he'd die out of shock. Bucky swore to tell him but honestly, Yori was his only friend he had out of work, and even that he couldn't let himself go and confide in Sam.

So here he was in a plain-back leather jacket, some jeans and the same pair of boots he had since the war. He didn't understand the fashion trends of late. Last week he and Yori saw a woman in a bright suit, it looked like a second skin from how tight it was.

Yori was simple-minded as he was and had similar morals and interests. It was disheartening to say that Bucky had a sort of envy for Yori, Bucky wished to have lived a normal life of maybe dying in the war or growing old and gray like Yori.

Get married, have a couple of kids, live a normal life. He understood greatly why Steve went back but he never fully forgave him for it. He felt like Steve was selfish for doing so, but isn't everyone? Steve got a normal life while Bucky had to rot in the world alone and was terrorized by his brain.

He crossed his arms, the leather making a strange sound since he gripped himself so tightly. He sat up straight, his shoulders back, his face set with a profound scowl. It forever imprinted on his face the dark scruff of a new beard growing in.

He hated how it meant uncleanliness, but he didn't have the motivation to shave it off, there wasn't a reason to anyway. He hadn't been on a date in years, centuries even.

He poked and played with his sushi that Yori said was great to try at least once. Bucky felt bad and tried a bite, he had to give credit for a thing so small having to be so spicy. That was about the first and last bite Bucky had. Since then he just jabbed at it with one of the sticks.

The other laid across the small complimentary plate with the rest of the remains of the sushi he failed to eat, he lost his appetite a few weeks ago.

He's been nursing a strong drink called Shōchū. Every time Bucky ordered it Yori said that he put an accent on it and that it made him sound like a foreigner. Although Bucky didn't know how since he was fluent but that was an argument for another day.

The employees there grew to know that they should just leave the bottle there since he usually drinks half their supply on each visit.

He just simply didn't think eating was something he needed. Recently things just seemed to bore him to the point where things that he needed to do he couldn't.

All because his brain tells him this doesn't matter. He's just lived so long from numerous life-ending things and he'd be damned if he'd kick the bucket from starvation.

"That scowl of yours is going to scare the women away," Yori spoke, breaking Bucky out of his trance. Bucky only saw the select few people around them and the women that Yori was referring to were a few older women with smiles and when Bucky turned to look they suggestively waved their fingers.

When Bucky looked back Yori smiled and waved and went back to inhaling noodles. Bucky looked at the man across from him in the small sushi restaurant he grew to know too well, they always sat in the same place a small table near the front of the glass doors.

Some posters and decorations were scattered throughout the small building. The dim lanterns gleam radiantly against the cryptic night. It rained before and the droplets of rain still reside on the windows behind Yori.

Yori slurped pounds of noodles into his mouth at a time, the residue of it was left behind on Yori's pale-white mustache. Bucky was surprised that the stick didn't break from the weight of it. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, his posture relaxing.

He laughed inside his shoulders coming up and the side of his lips curved in a smirk. The demeanor he held was appealing from afar, (specifically to the cougars adjacent from where they were.)The conversation always breaking Bucky's previous mood, Yori was very light-hearted when he wasn't in a mood. Especially when he had food and good company. He decided to further it:

"What do you know about the ladies here that I don't?" Yori swallowed a big round lump in his throat slowly going down to his stomach, he must've had a pile of noodles in it by now.

"Well first off all, don't test my ways of making them swoon over me," Yori stated it more of a threat than a declaration. He used his chopsticks and pointed them at Bucky and a warning manner.

His eyebrows perked up and the wrinkles on his forehead worsened similar to the ones that grew on Bucky. His eyes became wide at the thought of being disrespected like the way Bucky just did.

"Second of all, you don't understand how to look without your eyes." And with that Yori chowed down once again on his bucket of noodles. Bucky couldn't perceive Yori's advice, what does seeing without your eyes even could mean?

His smirk faltered into his normal resting face which Yori liked to remark and say was the equivalent to people putting the trash into his garbage can. There was no rhyme or reason for people to do so but they just did.

Just like the way Bucky was always in a sour mood it reminded him of himself always being angry at the world because of other people.

"Have you been seeing anyone lately, if not that might be the cause of your problems," Yori spoke as if he knew everything about Bucky and maybe he could Truth it since Hydra and after being the winter soldier and Steve passing.

Bucky hadn't really been ready to mingle. He just knew he had too much baggage for a partner to put on deal with him. Every now and then when he felt completely alone he downloaded some dating app he didn't actually want and deleted it on the same night.

He had flings here and there and since he met Yori he had been setting him up on dates whether Bucky liked it or not. None of them worked out since Bucky didn't try; he was too wrapped up in his own problems to be listening to hers.

Bucky's gloved metal hand wrapped behind his neck and scratched his stubble coming back down.

"You know Yori surprisingly enough I haven't," Bucky spoke grimly and clutched his teeth. He knew Yori was going to tell him off. He winced when he heard Yori's chopsticks fall into the cup of noodles. Yori sat back into his wooden chair, his arms crossed and a displeased look came across his face.

"And why is that?" Bucky began to open his mouth "Don't give me some excuse that you always give me or this will be our last meeting." Yori stated in a harsh manner with his face twisted in that fatherly manner. "I don't understand why it's a great value to you, to know about my love life,"

Bucky spoke of it as a statement but it came out more as a question. Yori quieted and thought for a moment thinking of the proper words to say. "The stars are aligned in your favor, in which that means you should try and put effort into those small details in what is grief, if not love persevering."

Bucky sat there thinking over the things Yori told him. Bucky stretched his arm out to sip on the Shōchū. He was about a quarter way through. They'd only been there for two hours.

Since Yori met Bucky he learned that people can't always be that bad. Unless of course, you're the type who knocks over his trash can and the men don't pick it up and so it rots to hell when he fills it.

Bucky sighed and reached for the half-full glass of Shōchū. Yori never favored seeing him drink. It was too similar to him drinking when his son passed.

So Yori being Yori he made a little catapult with his chopsticks and put a small piece of noodle into his device and flicked it at Bucky. Bucky glared at him and touched the spot where it hit. Right in the middle of his creased eyebrows. The residue of the noodle followed his fingers Yori went back to eating but before he did so he gave a word to Bucky

"You're not supposed to think about how to see without your eyes. It defeats the purpose entirely if you think about it as strongly as you do, I may have some years under my belt of practicing but you are going to go nowhere soon with the troubles that live in your scowl."

He paused searching into Bucky's storm-driven eyes, Yori saw nothing that lived behind them other than sorrow. It pained Yori to see his friend in such a state.

Yori rested his hands on the table interlaced in front of him, trying to find anything worth reviving if it wasn't already killed behind Bucky's aurora. But then all of a sudden a glimmer, a spark you could say flitted inside the fellow in front of him.

Yori leaned back in his chair and smiled softly, his eyes creasing. "Ah, there it is," Yori spoke softly. Bucky confused more than he had ever been in his life questioned everything.

He had no idea what Yori was doing or as to why he endured the unwanted staring contest they just had. Then his answers were spoken by the one who created the questions.

"The way you see without your eyes is simply to be at peace with yourself, look at the moon and the stars.

They have no troubles or worries and they are the most looked at things in the entire universe no matter where you are. They see everything, yet they still choose to have no regard for the ones that judge them. For you young sir, for them to have that happiness you take that amount doubled."

Bucky scoffed that he didn't intend to be disrespectful, but how in the world was he supposed to be calm when he knew Yori's speech was literal. Yori never made jokes or metaphors, he learned that the hard way.

He uncrossed his arms for the first time since they sat down, and rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward in the wooden chair. He squinted his eyes, questioning Yori's statement.

He knew Yori hated to be questioned and tested, they always led to night and day-long arguments that never fully were resolved. Maybe it was the half bottle of Shōchū he drank that made him confident. He spoke rough and dry from it taking over his throat and liver.

"So let me get this straight. the only way I can find peace and happiness is if I talk to the stars and the moon? Yori, you've got to be joking." Yori grew agitated but his composure remained ever the slightest of relaxation.

Yori reached towards the back of his pants to retrieve something while glaring at Bucky and the staring contest resumed. Bucky thought for a moment that Yori was going to shoot him in point-blank range in front of the small company that was set at different tables all over the place.

Instead, Yori pulled out a small crumbling paperback book with the cover filled with stars and galaxy-type depictions and inscribed above it was

"Talking to the moon, and other astronomic casualties"

Yori sat the book gently on the side of the table he got up and before he left he looked at Bucky for a long while before turning and walking out the door. Not another word was spoken between them until the next Wednesday.

Bucky walked home that night by himself. Usually, he would walk with Yori but what happened at the sushi place he felt disturbed by. He lost his temper and he never should've.

He's been put in worse situations than thinking that Yori made him out to be a fool for believing that the stars could talk. Who knows if they do. He should've been more open-minded, he's just been riled up from the flashbacks.

Shōchū seemed to make things worse but he'd forget about things for a while. He wanted to apologize to Yori;

he severely drowned the urge. With the rest of the bottle. Yes, the restaurant let him take the rest. He had to pay handsomely. He thought it was worth it until he had to walk up the stairs to get into his apartment. He swayed back and forth mostly to the left. The arm weighed more when he was like this.

He had not a thought in mind about the world other than seeing the bottom of the clear bottle made of glass.

He tried to walk up the stairs he really did but his chunky boots made it hard to judge the height of the stairs. He got about halfway up them and then he fell. He smashed his chin against the wood and his chin started to bleed. He didn't try to stop the fall.

His right hand was occupied with the bottle. His thick scarred fingers tied around the neck of it securely. He'd kill anything that would try to take it away from him. He pushed himself up off the stair and he winced in pain when his right hand was now in the pile of glass. It fell and broke when he did.

His back burned with being indented from laying on the stairs. His chin seeped down onto the pit of his neck where his jaw formed.

He pushed slowly up off the stairs entirely putting his damaged hand behind his back. How ironic that his normal flesh is the damaged one.

He lifted off with the metal one. He clutched his wrist and pinched it tightly with the metal one.

Trying to cut off blood flow so it won't get more infected than it already had. He walked to his apartment shamefully. His head hung down low, too insecure and awkward about what happened. His jaw stern and gritted he was embarrassed.

The alcohol dimmed it but it was still a major event. He'd hit the rock bottom of an endless pit.

He dug out his key in his pocket and went inside. When he entered he always felt worse than he had left. Yet he never had a problem leaving. It always felt like he was welcomed back into a deep aurora of depression.

He stepped on the back of his boots and left them by the door. He walked to the bathroom but he stopped and turned to look at the tv. There he was again in all his glory. John Walker.

Although this time in his clutches was Steve's shield. He grew saddened by the fact Sam gave it over. He felt betrayed. Sam was the only one he knew other than him how valuable that was and John Walker out of all people had it in his possession.

He'd have a long discussion with Sam in the near future about this. He was always infuriated by John but now he couldn't put it into words. Except for the word imposterous.

Bucky felt a sharp pain in his wrist and when he looked down. He soon found that he was nearly fracturing his wrist with his metal modeled fingers. He also took into mind how deep the glass shard was. Some tiny, some huge. He cursed under his breath a soft and crude

"Fuck."

He quickly loosened his grip and shook his head in regret when he looked down to his wood floor. He realized that blood trickled from him since he opened the door.

He hastily shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom trying his hardest to not make more of a mess than he already had. He walked with long strides and his white socks dirtied from blood.

The bathroom was small, with half tiled walls and a tiled floor, beige paint covered the rest of the wall. A shower shoved to the left of him, an off-white bulb accentuated the room.

He swore to change it but he never did. A mirror and sink in front of him, the mirror was a small white rectangular one, matching the shape of the sink. Sandwiched in between the shower and sink was the smallest white toilet imaginable.

He hated going into the bathroom for this reason alone. He saw how weak he was in the mirror.

A busted bleeding wound. That crept close to the imprint that marked the middle of his chin, dark drunk eyes, shaded pink lips, sharp cheekbones accompanied with a keen jawline, scars littered across his body. His face had a few abrasions, and cheeks hidden in the scruff that continued to grow.

His hair tousled and strewn every way it pleased. He never cared about it; he never tried to style it since he'd just put his hands in it. His shoulders were clad in leather and a beige henley that matched the walls. The calmness after getting pounded reminded him of when hydra made him fight the other soldiers. Then suddenly he was there.

It was a day that Bucky would think about for the rest of his life. Bucky had a lot of those days but this one, in particular, was one that made him feel excruciating pain. The fight he was trained to lose. The compound was a dimly lit walkway in between the cells. Two would fight momentarily continuously one was declared the winner and fight the champion. Bucky or the soldier.

The commanders of hydra love to evoke fear. Seeing the men riddled with fear. Some vomit, others beg. Some are like Bucky. Ruthless. They don't care who they are or what they want to be. All they strive to be or do is fight and the blood splatter after winning against the enemy, releases stress so sometimes it's a release unless you have a guilty conscience. For Bucky, it's the latter. He has nightmares, sure, but everyone does.

Bucky had perfect posture, his head tilted into the way hydra trained him to do or to be brainwashed until he was complicit. Bright ocean eyes were unknowingly dead. The thunder of the other candidates to fight by the cells on the sidelines until it was their time to fight.

Although before they went to fight they would have a fistfight with Bucky to higher their combat skills. Bucky was the best soldier they had to let them practice on. That being said Bucky wasn't being used to his full potential. Bucky hadn't fought anyone to his skill level, everyone was either at a lower or average level. They were put into groups of two in fighting whoever won would fight either Bucky or another soldier even crueler than Bucky. Bucky had some remorse and would hold back. He still deep down was a person but the other soldier killed many from going too far. And today was the day that Bucky had to fight that soldier. Bucky had three other men for the soldier to fight until it was him, all skinny and small, scrappy.

The soldier was big and unruly. He was undefeated, sure Bucky was scared but at the compound, it's kill or be killed.

No one knew the soldier's true name, just the series of numbers he was given. His confidence may be the death of him. Bucky believed-knew that he was more than the average man. He had courage, a heart of gold, and the endurance of a bull and here he was amping himself up and nervously fidgeting wondering what would happen if he won this fight. He wondered if everyone would think of him as superior or if he'd be more of a black sheep.

He heard a crack of a hydra man yelling to start. The man in front of him was next and the one that lost had gashes to the bone and blood oozing out of places where he didn't know could.

Bucky felt exposed when the man in front of him went to fight, there was still a very long list behind him to fight but he was next up. The soldier looked at him, his demeanor felt like the grim reaper and Bucky was fixing to pay his toll.

The soldier had muscles upon muscles and as broad as one can ever be. The word powerful couldn't even describe him in the lightest.

Bucky chewed on the inside his cheek he was nervous.

The soldier was known to put the others in the infirmary for days on end and those he hurt abnormally bad gotta not fight for a while and rot in their cell until. More often than none they'd put you back out in the field.

The stories of this soldier were the type you'd tell sitting at a campfire to scare kids, instead, it was grown, men. Even if Bucky was the bravest out there he wasn't like the soldier.

Bucky observed all of his techniques and styles over the weeks. Preparing himself for his scheduled fight. It was an algorithm for the soldier to react to specific hits and counter them with the same thing over and over. The hydra men taught all of the soldiers the same moves except the one Bucky was going to go against. They knew Bucky was their best soldier so they had to at least put him in a good fight. Bucky caught on to this pattern and that made him think that he could win.

The man in front of him laid in a fetal position with mud and red splatter across his pale form, the boisterous crowd making the shame feel unbearable.

Then all of a sudden Bucky felt a harsh shove on his back. One of the hydra men shoving him into the pit with the soldier. Bucky nearly fell face forward on the cement. A burst of loud booming laughter deafened him more than the crowd on the sidelines.

The soldier crouched low and Bucky knew what he was going to do. He took out the legs then beat his component to a pulp like a gorilla. Bucky did the same stance. He looked foolish, his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat-soaked his clothes which were already tightened to his skin from the excessive working out he did. Courtesy of Hydra wanting him to be in top shape. The other soldiers grew restless as they psyched one out. They went into circles staring at one other like vultures testing who was the quickest. Whoever blinks first wouldn't blink for weeks after.

A screech came from the soldier and he came after Bucky.

Now imagine a vicious lion combined with a cyclops coming at you. Bucky psyched him out and pivoted. That just angered him more since the battles never lasted more than a couple of minutes. This one was already the longest. The soldier turned slightly and looked over his shoulder and before he could do so Bucky had gotten close enough to kick the left of his knee in and he fell. It was as loud as the thunder when he did.

Although Bucky wasn't watching his feet and the soldier took his left foot and grabbed Bucky. He fell. The roar of the other soldiers boomed. His ears went out painfully, a ringing sound, and the rain flew harshly against his face.

He couldn't move, the wind knocked out of him that he couldn't breathe. He felt ashamed to have even thought that he could win. The black ceiling littered with golden beams.

The gold reminded him of the stars behind them, how someday he could be out of this dungeon to see them again. Abruptly all the ringing in his ears came back. He heard a low hum of breathing; he thought it was his own until he saw the beast above him. The soldier grabbed his arms and Bucky struggled even through his stupor. Bucky wiggled and tried to get out from his grasp but he was a god amongst men. Bucky then thought of how Steve felt when he'd get cornered in an alley and he'd come and save Steve from being killed. But Bucky didn't get saved. The barbarian struck Bucky over and over. The nurse would later tell him that she was surprised that he didn't have any brain damage. Bucky waved in and out of reality. Every time he tried to open his eyes it'd be welcomed with a fist. Bucky spat the blood out of his mouth onto the soldier. The soldier was just too strong. He was impossible to win against. The soldier rubbed the blood into his face and laughed. He leaned to Bucky's ear only so he could hear "puny."

Bucky screamed loud. Loud enough that the neighbors awoke from their sleep and he'd sure have a lot of complaints to address in the morning. In a split second, he found himself with his fist through the mirror, the glass falling every way onto the tile into the sink and toilet. Into the already damaged hand of his, the glass poked through his palm, and through the other side, the previous glass dug deeper into his flesh.

Severing the tendons. All he could think about was the pain of having to clean everything up. He didn't feel the pain he caused himself because that didn't matter. It made him feel the least bit human. Pain. Everything living thing felt alive and once he lost that. He'd feel like a complete and utter monstrosity.

He looked up from his hand and to the mirror. Shards still hung and it displayed a perfect depiction of what Bucky was. Damaged.

Bucky spent the rest of the night with a bandaged chin that kept bleeding like a waterfall. Hw picking out pieces of glass with the smallest tweezers known to man, that too ruby red water ran down the sides of his hand onto his bare beefy thighs and pooled in the middle of his palm.

He had calmed down after a couple of hours by sitting on the bumped-out window.

He often likes sitting there and watching the city. The cars zooming past the bright casinos.

The one thing he enjoyed the most was watching the constellations and making them out to be the things he liked. Often he'd see a star in the moon and he saw the shield.

He hated that one since it put him in the pain of remembering Steve and how he had no one.

He didn't need anyone. That's what he told himself but he was very wrong. His jacket was thrown over a wooden chair in the dining area. The sleeves of his henley rolled around his elbows showing the veins in his forearms.

He changed out his jeans for a random pair of dark shorts, he threw off his dirtied socks.

To say the least, he was at comfort for the first time this week. He started to read the book a little, the pages were torn and faded. Yori must've read this multiple times.

Bucky wondered why. The book was small and petite and was only a hundred or so pages. It was interesting, it was all about philosophy, it was written as if it was a big life poem.

He hated a lot of it but here and there were a few good points. He was about halfway through the book when a paragraph struck him.

Heart. Mind. Body. Soul. Great beings of life and they can only communicate by stars. Life and everything between can be carried through them. So if you speak to the sky of night. You will often hear a reply.

He thought of it as silly but then his brain began to wonder. What if he could talk to whoever he wished dead or alive. Just from talking to the stars. It seemed too easy and childish.

Although what did he have to lose the majority of the world hated him and the other half tolerated him.

He put the tweezers down and wrapped his hand with the bandage used to box. He had leftover wrappings since he used to do dirty street fighting when he got dumped from S.H.E.I.L.D's payroll.

He picked up the book that was under his thigh, holding the book open. He held it there since that was where the most light surfaced. He didn't exactly have the expenses to pay the electric bill so he always kept it off.

His eyebrows furrowed ever close as he came across a sentence he seemed to not understand.

The book looked like it shrunk in the size of his hand. His fingers twisted and ran over the cover and the letters on the page fell off onto his lap. The shorts rode up about mid-thigh and engraved their way into his skin.

He couldn't read anymore. He sighed when he read the same paragraph twice over.

All he could think about was being able to talk to Steve. He pushed it into the back of his mind, he carried the book carelessly in his hand, the feeling an odd one since he hadn't read anything for ages.

He walked over to his little place where he slept and laid down.

The news wasn't showing anything interesting. He became quite bored. He wondered if Yori was doing okay.

Maybe he should check up on him even if they weren't on the best of terms. He drifted in and out of consciousness, he played with the wrapping of his hand to try and keep him entertained.

He sat up against his wall observing everything around him how bland and monotone everything was.

He felt a buzz in the pocket of his shorts. He begrudgingly went to grab it. He didn't know who or why they were messaging him. Whoever it knew that it was just for emergencies.

He swears that he was going to murder Sam if he sent him one of the pictures with a caption that never related to the image. Sam said that supposedly there was a joke in the caption but that just made Bucky even more confused.

Bucky didn't know why he kept the phone. He never answers it and usually, he finds out everything he needs to know by watching the news.

When Bucky did finally open his phone to see the lock screen. He stared at it in bewilderment for a long while trying to make sense as to why someone messaged him.

He noticed that it was from an unknown number. That being said there was a one in a million chance for someone to know what his number was. He sighed he was going to have to change his number again. He was surprised what the message was.

"Hey! I had a wonderful time on our date today, I was wondering if we could go on another this week? If not I completely understand I'm new to this..um..blind dating thing. I really enjoyed meeting you instead of talking to a screen! Lol! Anyway, Ttyl!"

Bucky didn’t know how or what to feel. What date? Why was she (he assumed so since the person seemed vibrant and bubbly.) So happy to see him? He didn’t even know who this person was! A thought crossed Bucky’s mind.

Perhaps he could initiate the partner she went on a date with. He wasn’t exactly busy and had a girl on his arm. He realized that if he were to go on this hypothetical date that it would be very obvious that he wasn’t the man she was interested in.

He subconsciously stood up and paced his living room to his kitchen to and fro. The soft glow of his phone illuminated his face in the dark. It was wrapped tight in his metal fingers. The yellow stripes that were like a snake coiling around his arm grew more visible.

He threw his right hand into his hair, his henley slightly rising and showing a patch of skin between the waistband of his shorts and where the sweater laid. It allowed a drooling sight of a teasing view of his defined “V” of his hip bone that flowed below his shorts.

It's been a while since he felt any blood circulate under his shorts. He didn’t understand what this girl did to him but it got him going and that was certainly uncommon under his circumstances of life.

Don’t get him wrong back in his day he was a player. Now it's lessened to nothing. Not even dates, so this could be big for him. He stopped when he concluded. What the hell did ttyl and lol mean? It took an embarrassing text to Sam and Sam merely laughed at him and told Bucky to google it. That just made things worse.

What was google? He went through every single thing on his phone until he found the icon labeled google and he did google it. ‘Talk to you later and 'laugh out loud' Oh. Bucky was embarrassed how long it took him to figure that out.

He sloppily used both of his thumbs and stood in the middle of his living room texting out a reply.

'I'm totally down to go on another date with you, sweetheart."

He was proud of himself since he remembered Sam using the word totally in a sentence before. He was confident that the confidence and the suaveness from his past never left. And then the regret started to hit him with a bat.

Why’d he called her sweetheart? What if she didn’t like to be called that. God how could he be so stupid?! He started to give up after he didn’t seem to have a reply in his future.

He sat down, crisscrossed in front of his tv and his couch, and began to swim ever so quietly in his mind. His eyes burned with strain as he watched the bright screen in front of him. A festival celebrating the new captain he nearly lost his mind until he felt a buzz against his thigh and when he looked down he saw that the mysterious girl messaged him again.

He opened his phone to find three little dots appearing and disappearing continuously. He wondered what she was writing that required that attention to thinking of what she was writing to him. He wasn’t anyone special. He was a natural disaster but that was about the unique thing about him.

He grew impatient and shifted his weight every few seconds. He was very nervous about what she was going to say. He felt like a schoolboy asking out his crush and being afraid of rejection. Lord help him because he missed feeling something other than pain. Then another buzz ran up his arm and under his spine, it was the message she sent. It was short and simple of the lines of what remembered to be:

"..."

Bucky nearly threw his phone across his apartment. But then sucked a huge breath through his teeth when another buzz went through.

"It's just no one has ever called me 'sweetheart' before."

That made Bucky feel like he wanted to crawl into the deepest darkest ice chamber and live there for the rest of his life. This was it he destroyed his life by trying to flirt with someone hundreds of years younger than him. He exposed himself and he could never redo it. He should've known that this was a bad idea.

Technically he did but he just ignored it. How could he be so idiotic to spoil his chances of getting out of this cage of death. This was the epitome of a fish drowning. He was overreacting and hyperventilating solely because he doesn't know how to flirt like the modern age. He was doomed.

His fingers resisting the strength of his mind telling him not to type out sent her the message reading:

"Do you like being called sweetheart or do you prefer doll?"

He swore he died when he saw that he sent that. SWEETHEART AND NOW DOLL? He wanted to take a steaming hot bath and maybe splurge with bubbles and fall asleep and hey maybe he'd drown.

At this point, he didn't think it wasn't that bad of an idea. He put his palms on his forehead, his knees on his thighs staring at the pitch-black rectangle below him. Impatiently waiting for her response.

An on-set headache developing from all the stress he's had under the last thirty minutes. His heart jumped at the sight of the glow lighting up his screen. He quite literally jumped out of his sin to read it:

"You have no idea. It's way better than getting called mama and shawty by the fuck boys. Lol!"

Bucky was now in the crisis of not knowing what was a shawty and an *ahem* fuck boy. It was so worrying the amount of googling Bucky has done just talking to this girl. He noted to never call her..shawty or mama and to never be a fuck boy.

When he did figure out what those things were he wasn't exactly surprised. He was jealous and angry that she'd been called things that she didn't want. The feeling was common but never this strongly. It was an odd feeling it rose from his stomach to his throat and made it dry and hard to speak.

It made him clutch the sides of his phone so harshly that webs started to hatch from within the glass. His eyes cold and dead staring at the screen reading over her sentence once, then ten times over.

A little buzz came from his phone gasping for air from Bucky choking it out with his metal hand. (You wish that was you, huh?)

"I do love how polite and gentlemanly you are tho. It's hard to find guys like you."

Such short sentences made his heart gallop so fast in minutes. The logical side of his brain kept telling him that her compliments weren't for him but the attention for someone was much louder.

Maybe his old ways of flirting were beneficial, which caused him to be more at ease. His tensed shoulders relaxed along with his metal arm. Although his body felt he was burning alive. His free hand pulled his collar off his velcro skin, letting his structured collar bones come breathable. His breathing became shallow.

"It's hard not to be when you meet someone so radiant."

He didn't even know who this girl was but all he knew is that he didn't want to lose her and become utterly alone again. Not this time. His hair stuck to his face. He was going to have to take the coldest shower ever to get rid of her and even that he won't.

"LOL, Speak for yourself, I'm nothing compared to you."

He scoffed and typed furiously, how could she think such things about herself. He was deeply frustrated he didn't know why but he felt very drawn to her. He'd do anything in his power to just want her to promise him that she'd never leave him.

God, he sounded like a psycho and maybe he was. Maybe this was his last straw and when she'd break off he would too. He was so afraid of going back to the way things were to going back to being the winter soldier that he felt like he lost his mind trying to prevent it.

"Alright doll, how about this, we meet up this Friday for dinner and a movie at nine o'clock?"

He was scared that she would reject him. Fuck. She didn't even know what he looked like. What if she took one look at him and saw past his facade and into how broken he was and decided that no. All these feelings are what drew Bucky to stop searching and to think that he was a burden to everyone. Maybe that's why he felt the only place he could be himself was when he knew that he was 100% alone.

He huffed softly and threw his head back against the couch staring up at the ceiling once again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he listened to the soft murmur of the tv. All the world's troubles put onto Steve's back for years and he gets a little tongue-tied and that was it for him.

He needed help. He needed to get better. He laughed softly, his face breaking out into creases of his tanned skin, his lips parting and his teeth glowing against the white flush. He was insane and there was no going back. He laughed at himself for what seemed like an hour until he felt the familiar buzz against his heated skin.

"Hell yes man as long as we watch sharknado!"

Bucky's smile grew more and stretched his face into a radiance that made him look like he did when he was young.

Bucky didn't know what the hell sharknado was but he was glad to know she liked him enough to go on a date with him. Bucky Barnes had a date to go on Friday and he couldn't be happier. He didn't have any nightmares that night but he'd rather have a life-ending one than what he told Yori in the morning.

It was a couple of days after the fight with Yori. Bucky finished the book the day after he read it that's why he was here along with wanting to apologize for his actions at the restaurant. He was currently sat on the wise man's couch. His son's shrine right on the small table in front of him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and let his eyes fall elsewhere. He was ashamed to have kept this secret for so long but he couldn't find a way to tell Yori.

"Yeah, hey I murdered your son but it was fine since I was brainwashed by wanna-be nazis?" He let out a small nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Yori was going to find out somehow sooner or later. Bucky just hoped it was later. He didn't want what he had with Yori to end because of his past.

"What's worrying you?" Yori said softly as he walked briskly into the living room with a cup of green tea. He sat down on the couch on the right side of the Bucky. Nearest to the door. Bucky couldn't but think Yori was in some form afraid of him since he tested him that night at the restaurant. No one ever tried to test Yori.

Bucky was different. A way that Yori wanted to understand. But Yori saw the trouble of the glass downstairs when he went to put the trash away. The brand was still visible and Yori only knew one person who drank that. Bucky. Yori figured bad things came from it.

Partly the reason since he knew what came after from drunken mishappenings. Yori sat the green tea on the brown coffee table in front of them by Bucky and put his focus back onto Bucky.

"I asked a question," Yori said softly. It seemed that Bucky was in a trance his head downward and his eyes shifting searching for something maybe an answer to Yori's question but there were so many things going through Buckys mind that it'd take months for Bucky to explain to Yori everything.

Bucky looked up to Yori with a smile but in his eyes were nothing but disaster. Yori sat uncomfortably. He was disturbed not once in the few months of knowing Bucky did not smile.

Bucky ignored the question instead "I finished the book you gave me," Bucky spoke with a waver in his voice making him sound unsure. While he reached into his pocket to grab it Yori pursed his lips.

"I didn't want you to read it I wanted you to return it to the library," Bucky's smile faltered and his eyes dimmed even darker than the way they did before. "Oh" is all Bucky said before he put the book back into his jacket pocket. He messed with the wrapping on his hand that Yori took notice of. Bucky was acting odder than usual and Yori couldn't put his finger on it.

Yori took out a scratch piece of paper and handed it to Bucky. In scratchy handwriting, Bucky assumed it was another book 'life on mars.' Then Yori spoke up "Are you going to drink your tea if not I will," Yori jabbed a finger pointing to the white cup. Bucky cleared his throat "I'm not that thirsty,"

Bucky handed over the glass cup to Yori and he glared over to Bucky and he glared back. Yori smacked his lips together after he finished. "If you're here just to have a staring contest with me, then I'm afraid you'll be here for a very long time,"

Bucky readjusted his posture and breathed roughly. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at the restaurant. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper at something so minor."

Bucky stopped thinking of words to say he gave up. Yori got up and left the kitchen uninterested in Bucky's apology. His son's portrait started yearning to be alive again. He stared brutally into Bucky's existence. It asked to switch position with Bucky and Bucky swore that he was out of his body and then sucked back in when Yori started to swirl a spoon around the top of the lip of the cup.

"Sugar makes green tea flavorful," Yori sat down when he was finished he swirled it into the now full cup. Bucky guessed he made a few more for later. Yori came back up to the lip and dampened it with tea it made and a remarkably loud song.

Around and around it went putting Bucky into a trance his posture regained to straight and his shoulder back head high with eyes dead. "When my son, RJ, was one he used to sing this song 'a longing rusted freight car coming to an end where it went when the furnace descended.' it was quite a beautiful song when he sang it,"

Bucky heard bits and pieces before his brain went to a mush of the activation words being said in his head. "When he was nine had a tumor and we took him to the doctor but we found out it was benign."

Bucky couldn't hear. He couldn't see. The sky was filled to the brim with stars. The moon brightened and removed his appearance from the trace of a normal eye. He stepped carefully on the roof of the building. His suit blending him into the shadows. His hair stuck to his face closing him in and disguising him more than he already is. He saw RJ through the roof's window. This couldn't have gone more perfectly. He slipped behind one of the paintings and was quiet, his breathing irregular. He heard footsteps and assumed it was RJ and punched through the painting and grabbed tightly onto the neck of the man he mistakenly thought was RJ and tossed him back into the debris of the painting. A man came after him and he quickly threw the knife from the back of his belt and plunged it into the neck of his victim. Another man slammed into the stairway when he flew out of the painting the rest of the men flew down the stairs in pursuit of fleeing the winter soldier. As they shot at him he was faster and killed them first he jumped off the stairs and threw the other spare knife at the man in front of him. An old man grey in the green leather jacket he smashed against the wall even threw metal Bucky could feel the man's heartbeat quickening and then faltering to nothingness. "Hail Hydra'' The last words the man heard as he dropped from Buckys grip to a heap of a corpse in a matter of seconds. Bucky turned to his right and watched the RJ struggle to put the key to escape Bucky. Bucky wanted to laugh at how weak and puny his attempt was to get away; he was constantly looking behind him at Bucky. Closer and closer Bucky's strides were to capture his life. Bucky's shoulder swayed a demeanor threatened with authority and anyone who dared to test it would feel the stupidity of their choice. When RJ started to beg Bucky thought that was all he had in him. Bucky didn't care. He raised his hand and straightened it perfectly matching the hilt to the RJs head.

"I KILLED RJ!" Bucky yelled standing upright. Saliva flew onto Yori when he screamed. Bucky's metal arm was tightly tied around Yori's throat. Yori was in pure terror, his eyes wide, his hands in front of him wrapped around the metal as he leaned back to get away from Bucky as he confessed to him who killed his son.

His mouth was wide in shock gasping for air. Bucky's eyes widened in horror, his mind running thousands of thoughts per second he took his hand off Yori's throat and choked on air. Bucky stared down at his metallic pitch-black hand and then Bucky ran. He ran to his apartment. Hands in his hair pacing kitchen to the living room.

What the actual fuck did he just do? He felt tears brim his eyes and he couldn't believe what he just did. He ruined everything he worked for since Wakanda. His reputation was obliterated just like that in a matter of seconds. His breathing became ragged; he managed to take off his dark black leather jacket and tossed it to the couch.

The black t-shirt he had on raised slightly from his arms being on his head. His wrapped hand tore into his skin making him even more upset from the broken mirror in his bathroom that he still didn't clean up. The memory just kept running itself over in his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. Yori's reaction.

There's no way he'd be able to repair what he did to Yori and he'd had to live the rest of his life knowing how badly he fucked up. He wanted to so badly tear this goddamn arm off with everything he had. He remembered trying the old one off that Hydra gave him it never worked. He still had the deep gashes from his nails where they latched onto his shoulder.

The scars never really healed right, instead of being in the skin, they rose like mountains from it. Bucky clutched his head tightly, his form shaking with tremors. He just kept thinking of the word stupid.

"I, John Walker. Captain America has taken the super-soldier serum and in my disregard, I feel as if there are no consequences and it should be open to the public. And in retrospect of the world, I personally think that Steve Rogers was too soft on his components and since I have taken the serum I will no longer be tolerating the life of the terrorists. That being said I will in no regard will hold back. I will do everything in my power to rid this Earth of the monsters we know until their last god-ridden breath."

Bucky lifted his head from its place hanging down into his hands, his jaw gritted tight, his nose flared, and his eyes full of fury. John Walker. He was going to kill that man one way or another. Bucky was pissed so beyond natural anger that he stood up and walked straight in front of the tv.

This man was beyond no right in having that televised. What he said could destroy the world in an instant. Who or why did he get the serum from? And Bucky was the time bomb? Bucky closed his eyes, his hands turned into tight fists, and let the image of John Walker in an interview with a lady sat across from him at John's old school burn in his mind. The white noise of the crowd cheering John's opinion made Bucky's blood boil.

Bucky thought he had calmed himself until he opened his eyes he saw John look into the camera and point.

"The world would be a better place if there were more brave soldiers like me."

Bucky reared his metal fist back and pounded the tv until the screen was ridden of John Walker's face. Bucky came to the idea that when he got another tv maybe he shouldn't watch the news for a while. Glass fell on the table and pieces on the wood floor by his feet.

He fell to his knees. His knees cracked from all his weight on them with no support. His knees being crushed by the glass. His hands hiding his face from the world.

His cheeks and face grew warm from how he felt. His nose burned when tears started to fall ever so gently down his cheeks. Grey eyes becoming the most vibrant of blues. He choked softly, his throat closing as he sat there in the middle of his destroyed living room. His apartment is the greatest amphitheater in the world.

His shoulders rising and falling and stuttering when he gagged on air. He parted his hands from his face and sat upright. His hands fell into fists, his arms tensed and the veins in his neck pulsed when he let out a blood curdling scream. It was a long screech filled with his voice cracking his vocal cords giving upon him.

His tears despite his yelling still fell and stained his cheeks. He thought so many things at once and everything involved him being a monster. He was hurt and this was the worst self-harm. The arm was given to him and the brain that wasn't his own.

He decided that he needed to go on a walk to calm himself down. Maybe he'd go and return Yori's book. All he knew is that the world for Bucky Barnes was getting darker and worse by the day. Who knows how long until he loses who he is. But one thing was for sure. It wasn't going to be for long until he does.

He stayed home for the rest of that day. It was in the evening when he had gotten home from Yori's. He was still greatly upset by what happened. He couldn't think about it until he grew angry with a suicidal rage. He was alone. All over again the monster that kids are scared to go to sleep over.

He sat by the window again just in the same random shorts and no shirt out of fear of coating it in sweat. It was the least of his problems but it was still a burden. He wished he had something to listen to, his thoughts were so loud that he was surprised that mind readers didn't go deaf from it. He watched the people below him walk past the building complex.

Not batting an eye at the monster in the window above them. He wanted to laugh at how normal people were and how he was once like them but now turned into this creature. His shoulders broad and held his form up by the sides of his sculpted waist.

His legs crossed over another he leaned against the wall that joined the window in the corner. He sat across from the kitchen. His stomach growled at the thought of food, the last time he could remember eating something was at the restaurant and that was just a nibble. It wasn't like he could eat something. He never splurged on food, all the food he had was fruit sitting in a white complimentary bowl on the middle of the island.

He pushed his head against the wall swallowing thickly debating whether he should or not. He decided he didn't deserve it after what he's done. Disrupted from his thoughts he felt a buzz on his thigh in the pocket of his shorts.

He fished out the stupid little box and saw that it once again another text from Sam. He's been ignoring them since he's had Sam's contact; he deemed them not worthy of a response. They were all on the lines of are you okay? Bucky smiled at something so incredulous. He started typing out

Yeah. Just losing my mind but other than that I'm just fine. But went against it. When he read more of the missed messages one did pique his interest. Did you hear about the rumor of Steve being on the moon? Bucky's eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted. What? How could Steve be on the moon? Sam and he literally watched Steve grow old in front of them. How absurd to say that Steve was on the moon. But when Bucky thought more of it, it reminded him of what he read in the book.

Talk to the stars and they'll talk back. Bucky groaned in annoyance. Was this what he was resorting to in a desperate measure for interaction? Talking to inanimate things. He let out a deep breath his chest rose then fell shortly after. He closed his eyes imagining Steve back in Brooklyn and all the mischievous things they did.

He remembered the day Steve got rejected and then Bucky being deployed the next day. The day that started it all. The downfall of Bucky's life. Bucky didn't know what he would say to Steve but he thought he started out well enough.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we'd always have to act like we were soldiers because of you. God Steve even when we were kids you had your mind made up. Always wanting to be something when I couldn't even choose what cereal I wanted,"

Bucky stopped and thought over the words he said. It was true. Steve was always headstrong about everything he wanted. Bucky remembered that Steve was going to create this comic of this monkey who shot bananas out of a bazooka. And Steve did.

It never took off or anything it was just the thought of if anything Steve wanted he would never stop until he got it.

While Bucky always had his priorities elsewhere, the majority of the time he made Steve do his homework so he wouldn't fail. Two opposite people were the best of friends, who knew that one of them would turn out to be the villain.

"You know Steve I enlisted because I felt like I had to prove something, I had to prove that I was better at something than you. Just that one thing I ended up not even being better than you at."

Bucky's voice was dry and raspy when he spoke. The screaming fried his throat when he talked. It burned like a good bottle of Shōchū.

He'd kill for a bottle right now. He was starting to understand that this wouldn't work but he grew angrier at the thought of Steve trading him out for some girl. Bucky knew how much Peggy mattered to Steve but he still never got why he'd trade him out for her. He was jealous in a sense over the life Steve got.

"If I could I would change places with you in an instant, to be at peace. You got to live your life and I had to decay for years without my best friend. Maybe this was for the best so you couldn't see me become who I am now. Someone that we swore to never be ever since we were kids, the bad guy."

Bucky chewed on his lip after that. Til the end of the line his ass. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, the strands comforting his hand. He got up from the window and walked over to his little bed and went to sleep. The night's toll took everything out of him.

The only thing he currently wanted was this thing he had with this girl to be good. How wrong he was.

He decided that he was going to go and return the book Yori gave him. He still hated what happened and he knew trying to fix it would make it worse. The least he could do is get him the book he wanted. So Bucky put on his washed-out jeans, his shirt he wore yesterday, shrugged on his jackets and slipped his feet into his boots, and a black glove to hide his metallic arm, and went to the Library.

The library was a little old place with the roof caving in not far from the complex building. He wondered why Yori didn't just go and get it himself, Bucky didn't really care about having to go but he just wanted to know if Yori was okay and doing well.

Bucky went down the stairs and found a few remaining pieces of the glass bottle he broke last week. The memory of him falling and breaking it etched in his mind vividly. He felt a chill run up his spine at the feeling of someone seeing him like that.

He hurried down the last of the stairs and opened the glass door and went outside. The warm air wafted itself around him in a soft summer breeze. It was warm but not hot enough for him to go without a jacket and the chilly breeze lightened it up. It felt relaxing since he forgot how long it's been outside of his apartment.

He took long strides on his walk. But he couldn't shake the paranoia of being stalked. He was about halfway when he saw a shadow mock him. He walked faster not wanting to have to deal with this today.

The other person's shadow grew larger and bigger as Bucky walked further. When Bucky saw the library and a few he nearly bolted to the building. When he was inside he saw that it was just a lost dog. He was losing it. He sighed his mind relaxing and then jolting when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay mister?"

A warm voice made his heart pump faster than it already was he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. When he turned around he was met by easily the most beautiful girl. It was you. He thought in that instant that everything about you was perfect the way your eyes looked at him, the way your face was adorable, the way your hair fell behind your ears, the way your lips looked the most perfect shade along with your eyes. He promised himself when he got home that he'd paint his whole apartment that color.

He went cross-eyed from staring at the shape of your lips and how they shaped around the words he couldn't hear from being so entranced by you. He started to feel his heartbeat out of his chest. When he thought of how you'd look with pretty lips wrapped around him and dull bedroom eyes looking up at him through thick eyelashes. He needed to stop, he just met you and now he's so hard against his jeans that he was sure that he was bruised.

And your hands on his shoulders shaking him wasn't helping him. His trance was broken when he realized what was happening. "Huh?" That is all he managed to make out through his lust-clouded mind. You did this face that made him die, it was when your eyebrows furrowed and your lips went to one side pursed together. Your eyes were cut at him and he knew he was in trouble but he just couldn't help being enticed by you.

"I asked if you needed help," You stopped and wagged a finger in his way "You're all sweaty." He looked down at himself and you were right, his hair stuck down and his shirt showed pools. Shit. Way to embarrass yourself, Buck. You're sweaty, you're horny for some girl you just met. He was a trainwreck embodied. "I'm okay, it's just the heat," Bucky spoke with uncertainty. He had no idea what was happening why he was acting like this. He usually never felt like this around a girl, especially one he just met.

Your face was still cut, your lips went back into the fullness of how they are naturally. "Weird but okay." You spoke under your breath since it wasn't sweating weather outside. You were going to be the death of him and thankfully there were only a couple of other people in the library since it was the morning of a weekday.

"There's a cool spot where the ac is over there." She turned and pointed towards the left somewhere. He couldn't concentrate in the slightest even if he tried. And god your body from just the standard shirt and jeans you wore he felt his turn into skinny jeans.

"But anyway if you need me just yell, its y/n." And you left and when you walked away to assist someone else he got the perfect view of your ass. He scurried into the thick of the bookshelves and triple-checked if anyone was around him and adjusted himself.

It was so painful to not jump your bones right there. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Get it together Buck. He realizes that he was going to have to go and talk to you again since he had to check the book in. He mentally stabs himself in the neck.

He calms himself down enough so that he could talk to you again. He feels like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. Bucky guessed that he lost his cool with talking to girls over the years since he stopped. This was hell. You were at the front desk, the one in front of the door. You were reading some book that he didn't know.

He took a moment to admire the way your hair frames your face, the way your ass jutted out so you could lean over the desk on your forearms. Your free hand, the one not holding your page was used as a support beam for your face under your chin. God you were so beautiful, he hooked his finger under the collar of his shirt and started to flick it back and forth to generate air.

He was the human-dog drooling over a mate. He hated himself for not getting to know you and he already felt like this towards you. He was a monster but he wasn't impolite; he drew the line there. He was in the clouds that he didn't notice you staring at him with squinted eyes. "Can I help you, sir?" Your voice hung on sir in his mind.

He couldn't help but envision you beneath him moaning sir. "Uh, yeah, there's this book" He startled himself when his voice croaked out a response. He patted the pocket of his jacket and had a crisis when he thought he left it at home. But when he shoved his hands into his pocket he let out a smile of relief and grabbed it and slid it over to you on the other side of the desk.

"I need you to check that in and then" He stopped and searched for the piece of paper Yori gave him. He found it crumpled as lint in the bottom of his other pocket and the words faded. "Shit, uh, and check out this." He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at his feet afraid of confrontation. You silently grabbed the book and checked it in and grabbed the note. You couldn't make out a single letter. Your eyebrows pinched together and when he looked up quickly and then darted his eyes away. He knew that you couldn't.

He wanted a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole. You scratched the back of your neck trying to decipher the note "I can recommend something similar to the book you turned in, I'm sorry but I can't read this." You spoke with sincerity. And walked out behind the desk and poor Bucky followed you like a lovesick puppy.

You cursed Jordan, another employee for putting the desired book on the top shelf. The bookshelves were very tall and you weren't short but you weren't 7' foot either. You pinched your nose shutting your eyes and put a hand on your hip. "Do you see the book at the very top with the red back?" You muttered and Bucky looked up and saw the issue. "Do you want me to grab it for you?" Bucky looked at you with the softest eyes and you couldn't help but admire them.

You shook your head and lord you were about to melt. His body was brushed up against yours, you could've moved but you really didn't. You could feel the texture of his jacket against your soft skin and you cursed yourself for blushing. He took notice and let a small smile creep on his face when he handed you the book and your head was hung low when you walked back behind the desk.

Bucky guessed that he didn't completely lose his effect on girls. When you were checking out the book he noticed the book you were reading. It was The hobbit. He actually enjoyed the book when he read it when it first came out. He didn't take an interest in fantasy and so he shrugged it off until he actually read it.

When you stamped the books inside the page and slid it back. Bucky smirked "You know they all die in the end." The pure confusion on your face was amusing and with that, he left.

When he got home he started to feel the metal of his arm become rusted and thinking back it had been a while since the last time he cleaned it. He was wanting it to fall off so bad that he forgot he actually needed it.

He wondered where the girl went that texted him before. He didn't want to bother her by texting her first that to him was unnatural. It didn't bother him that much since he used to. And that the date was tomorrow so she would either show up or not and he'd suffer the consequences either way.

He went to the bathroom to grab the grease and a rag he uses every time in the cabinet under the sink.

He stopped shortly catching himself in the shattered mirror. The bandage on his chin began to fall off God forbid it started to at the library. He took it off slowly, the hair of his stubble getting caught in the crossfire. There was a bright pink little scar where the gash was. His skin healed relatively fast but it never cured the scars. He figured if his chin was healed that his hand should be.

He unwrapped his hand slowly for some reason he was scared of what it looked like. When he finally finished unwrapping his palm was littered with scars ranging in size. He touched the scars to see if they hurt with his metal hand and nothing.

Just a scar.

Bucky grabbed the grease and took off his jacket and boots and the first time he moved in he sat on the couch.

It was stiff as ever and it never got out of the store phase. He poured some grease on the white rag and it turned brown and he started to put it in the creases where he noticed it too slow. His mind ran back to you that never happened to him. God he was caught red-handed too, he'd have to take a very long and cold shower when he was done cleaning his arm. The rest of the evening all he could think about was what would happen tomorrow and how he'd destroy the girl of his dreams.

Bucky spent Friday constantly checking his phone for two reasons.

1) to see if his admirer would message him and

2) always checking the time.

He honestly couldn't wait; it's been forever and he was excited about something new. For change. The only source of entertainment he had was the book he checked out earlier. It wasn't the book he was supposed to get. The book in contrast was called American Psycho.

Bucky was about halfway and he fairly enjoyed it. Although it disturbed him since he found similarities in himself with Patrick Bateman. Bucky laughed at all the dark jokes and liked all the points where Patrick lost all sanity; it was the highlight of the book.

Bucky flipped one of the knives carelessly in the hand that wasn't occupied by the book. Bucky loved the power a single knife had. A single slip of the wrist could end something as fast as it began. Time flew by when simple hobbies turned into jobs. He cursed himself because it was seven o clock and he had only an hour to go to the restaurant which was the sushi place that he and Yori used to eat at.

He texted the directions to the girl, he grabbed his glove and jacket and shoved the knife in the back of his belt and fled down the stairs and out the door, and ran the rest of the way.

You sat at the small petite table, your phone clutched in your hand carefully watching the time. When it turned to 8:55 your gut twisted. Maybe he didn't like you as much as you liked him.

The waitress came by once again asking if everything was okay and if you'd like to eat and each time and you'd have to politely decline. You crossed and uncrossed your legs, they grew numb from you sitting in the wooden chair for the past hour. You didn't know what to wear so you opted for a sleek white dress and some heels.

You hoped you didn't overdress and make the wrong impression. You sipped on your water looking through the window to find any hint of your lover boy. You knew what to look for since you knew who it was. But maybe he didn't come and you were set up. How embarrassing this was. Yori told you that he was stubborn but he seemed pretty into you at the library. You know Yori through Leah, an employee at the restaurant who was a friend of yours.

She promised you that she would pay for your meal every time you ate there. How could you refuse? You sighed and began to get up and leave since you thought Bucky gave up on wanting to go on the date. You quickly sat down when you heard the bell of the door ring open and then there he was in all his glory.

Bucky Barnes, in the same leather jacket but you couldn't believe how good he looked underneath the dim light. His bandages were now gone and his face was sullen and structured from the shadows that made his face deepen. You smiled your ruby lips catching Bucky's attention and he hadn't seen something so pleasing to the eye in ages. Although he was confused since he didn't know that it was you who he was texting was there something going on that he didn't know about?

He pulled out the chair and sat across from you with his face stern. "Why didn't you tell me it was you that I was talking to?" He spoke slowly and his head tilted in question like a puppy's. "Yori told me about how you are with dating and he was afraid of you always being alone, and he gave me your number, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

You fiddled with your fingers when you talked you were nervous about his reaction. You knew all about Bucky's reputation and embarrassing enough growing up you developed a crush on him, so you jumped for this opportunity.

You loved how strong and brave he was and even though he was brainwashed you thought of him as a good person. He chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking of what were the right words to say. "Just no more secrets from now on." With that, he waved down the waitress for a bottle of Shōchū.

After the half, the bottle was gone you couldn't help but be in wonder from how he managed to be able to drink all that meanwhile you were still sipping on your first shot. Every sip you took you gagged and your face turned into a kid who took their first sip of alcohol which made Bucky laugh.

Dinner was going along nicely there were many jokes and stories shared but Bucky couldn't help but be skeptical of how this could work. Bucky was severely messed up and couldn't care for another. He wanted to but he was just incapable, maybe he could just live this lie and things could be normal.

When they called for closure Bucky finished laughing at some remark you made, you and he were sat there talking for a couple of hours. It was just so easy to talk to him. Although you did notice a few times he would wince in pain and put his face in his hands. You thought it was odd but shrugged it off from his excessive drinking. Speaking of the devil he asked

"Do you want to go to my place. There have been complications with my tv so we can't watch a movie, but I can keep you company." You smiled a drunken buzz of Shōchū. Not nearly did you drink as much as Bucky but it was still written across your features. Your face flushed pink and your body made of jello hung off of Bucky's arm the whole walk to his house and Bucky every now and then had to pick you up.

Bucky didn't want to do anything rash to you but in the back of his mind, something kept itching it made it so painful that he couldn't ignore it. It kept making him shake his head and wince it was like a headache but much more painful. When he got into his apartment you took notice of what he meant by complications of a totaled tv. You shed off your heels and sat on the tv nervous to be in Bucky's house, your form off-putting to Bucky.

He sat down across the couch from you and he became hurt by you sitting so far away from him. "Are you scared of me or something?" He spoke grimly staring at the floor, his face holding no emotion to his words. "What? no!" You were shocked by his words. How could he assume that you were scared of him? Bucky looked your way and a strange look appeared in his eyes.

"Then why are you sitting so far away from me?" He gritted his teeth and his hands turned into fists, they were clamped tightly together on his thighs and this side of Bucky did scare you. He wasn't Bucky, he looked like him but his whole persona changed in the span of minutes. You wondered if it was something you said or did.

You became fearful when he fell off the couch onto his knees his head clutched in his hands. He started to scream not like the ones before this one was full of pain and torment. The moon's light made this scene unfold a lot more sinister. What was happening to him, why was he acting this way? Then all of a sudden he grew very quiet nothing could be heard other than your breathing.

You were confused and scared but you did care for Bucky and in his position, you assumed he was in serious need of help. You walked carefully taking notice to not step loudly to provoke him. You crouched down your dress falling over your feet, you reached your right hand out hesitant towards Bucky.

You stayed with your hand on his shoulder

"Bucky?"

You whispered softly, scared to disturb him. Everything was at ease at a calm one that felt too unrealistic.

That was true because a few seconds later Bucky grumbled out

"Who the hell is Bucky."

He slung around his body twisted and grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and stabbed you straight into the heart with it. Before you could even have time to run it was over.

The white of your dress now became a soaking deep red. The way your eyes forever open to the moon the way the moon took your life. And that day was when Bucky Barnes lost his sanity and forever came the winter soldier.

*A few months later*

She sat with her legs crossed, her hair tied up perfectly.

Her posture evenly to the ceiling while sitting. The only one that a soldier would perfect. She read over his portfolio over and over to get every last detail to stick in her mind so she wouldn't forget.

She breathed heavily finishing the last sentence. She took off her glasses and shut the case file on her lap, and put her right elbow up on the white seat, her glasses in the same hand.

She pursed her lips staring at the man in front of her and sat on the white couch in front of a forest mural. He was in all black a blank face, his hair a little longer and his stubble now thicker.

He played with the pink protruding scar on his right hand. Pushing and watching the blood rush to it. She wrote that in the notebook.

When he caught notice he stopped and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her.

He was convicted of third-degree murder and numerous accounts of other convictions.

She thought over all the things that were stated in the portfolio but what struck her the most was that he drank excessively and faked being drunk just to feel

"more human."

She thought of a way to form a sentence to not upset him about what he's telling her to see if what he recollected matched what was in the documents but there was no easy way to do that.

She listened to him finish the last of what he was telling her:

"And that's how the story ended."

Fin.

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 4

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild)

Word count: 6K

Warnings: Explicit Smut, dark themes, male/female masturbation, bodily fluids, mentions of sexual encounters, dirty words, sexual threats. It’s August, he’s the baddest of bad boys!

A/N: Soooooo this chapter was fun to write, I hope you guys like it :)! Thanks @agniavateira for being my editor and my emotional support!

Title: Memento Mori

Funny, he’s never seen someone drown in icy water before. With her injury and massive blood loss, the struggle doesn’t last longer than a minute. This is beyond her natural survival instincts, gradually her muscles give up, running stiff as the blood in her veins chills.

August stares with rapt. Not once did the Valkyrie scream for help, or even begged him to save her.

Truth be told, it kinda pisses him off as much as he finds it admirable.

‘Such a strong-willed girl. Would be a shame to rid the world of her so soon.’

“Whatever,” he mutters and carefully steps toward the crack in the ice. His hands hoist the body up before she sinks below the surface. With water in her lungs and her muscles rigid, she’s impossibly heavier.

A red path of blood tarnishes the ice as he drags her body toward the edge of the lake. There is no urgency in his behaviour, relaxed he kneels to stare at the lifeless woman and wonders if in her hubris this is how she believed this day will end.

Her skin is pale blue, lips dark purple. Drained out of wit and life, those delicate Scandinavian features look like something out of a fairytale and he muses whether a kiss will wake her up.

It won’t make any difference to the world if she’s dead or alive, it certainly won’t make any to August Walker.

His digits stroke her frozen cheek, sensing the skin is stretched over the hardened muscles. He tilts her head up and presses at the hollows of her cheeks to force her lips open. For some reason, he thinks of a different dead girl, though they are nothing alike.

Planting his mouth over hers, he breathes oxygen into her lungs. Her chest rises, filling with the air he breathes into her. He repeats the process four times and then begins compressing her heart, watching her corpse lie peacefully on the snow.

Never in his years of service had he needed to perform CPR on another person. It’s not as melodramatic as shown in the bullshit movies he’s seen; no one’s shouting “C’mon girl! Breathe!!!” and hits her chest in despair. The owls and bats that chant between the large trees and the wolves howling at the moon from a distance couldn’t care less if Ingvild, whatever her-last-name-is lives or dies.

On the contrary, they’ll be thrilled to eat her eyes out.

He pauses on his attempt to resuscitate her and watches as no change appears in her face. His hands rest in the air, hovering above her for less than a second, considering if to give her another chance. He leans to capture her mouth again when Ingvild suddenly twitches, gagging as water seeps through her mouth and nose like some decorative fountain.

August observes quietly. Her eyes are shut, her body is only reacting instinctively, coughing out the water in her lungs. He nudges her to the side, draining the water out until she stops coughing and lays unconscious on the ground.

He moves his ear closer, listening to her soft breaths. He wonders how long will she survive in such a condition, suffering from hypothermia and massive blood loss. Letting her drown might have been a favour, he might have just granted her a cruller death.

Blackness surrounds her, chaining her to the ground. An excruciating pain blossoms in her lungs, as if someone placed a massive weight that smothers her while her throat and her nose sear with pain. The rest of her body feels numb, someone might as well leave her limbless.

The image in front of her appears blurry as she attempts to open her eyes and hang on to the tendrils of reality, uncertain when and where she is and what happened at all. Was life just a dream?

Or was it a nightmare?

‘Liam?’

No voice is produced from her lips, she is not even sure they’re moving.

The face that greets her is certainly not Liam. It’s the man who granted her this agonizing death. He looks at her with silent curiosity, not saying a word as her glassy eyes become more and more vibrant.

Her hands suddenly reach to his throat, clutching him with all the energy left in her traumatized body. As battered as she is, he still has to use force to peel her claws off of him. She struggles, grunting and hissing, her nails leave bleeding scratches over his cheek.

“Remember you are only alive for as long as I permit it.” August speaks to her calmly, impressed by her stubborn will to kill him even when she’s hanging by the last thread of her pathetic life.

The struggle takes no longer than a few seconds as her eyes roll back and she falls to the ground, unconscious again.

August collects her in his arms and rises, carrying her through the woods. “Better this way, princess,” he whispers to the sleeping beauty in his arms. The temperature of the water has slowed the bleeding, causing the blood vessels to clot and reduce the pace of her heartbeat. It benefits in keeping her alive, but it’s also slowly killing her.

He returns to the bed and breakfast to be greeted by the receptionist who stares at him, baffled.

“Too much to drink,” he explains, offering her a charming smile as he continues marching toward his room with the unconscious girl in his arms.

~*~

“Fucking mess,” he mutters as he enters the room and shuts the door behind him with his leg. That stab wound may be bleeding slower now, he hasn’t ruptured any viable organs. However, the gash in her flesh is large and still needs to be dressed.

He drags her to the bath and puts her on her feet, letting her limp body lean onto his while he unzips her suit and boots, stripping her to her undergarments. A crescent-like slit gushes blood at the side of her abdomen.

August places her in the empty bathtub before grabbing the first aid kit he bought at the hunters’ shop. Being a wanted man now, he had to be prepared for everything.

It was nearly him tonight that needed that first aid kit.

The scent of alcohol fills the room as he pours it onto her open wound. He waits for a response from her, maybe a twitch from the excruciating pain, yet Ingvild is so far gone she doesn’t react whatsoever. His finger presses to the tendon in her neck, only to make sure he is not taking care of a dead girl.

A faint pulse is there; her heart still beats. Yet her body is as cold as ice, and he knows that if he won’t take care of her soon her systems will begin to shut down one organ after the other. He sews her wound shut quickly, making unfashionable stitches across the wound.

“Sorry love, no more bikini for you.” he mocks the sleeping girl. “Although porn sites must be filled with scar-porn, so you’re good.”

After stitching her up and dressing the wound, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her on the bed. Her skin is shivering, frozen and pale as death itself. She has hypothermia and needs to have her body temperature stabilized before every one of her major organs will go into failure.

“Not how I pictured us getting into bed naked,” August jokes without humour while beginning to peel off his clothes until he is completely bare. He towers over her trembling form and watches how helpless she appears. His hands run down her spine, reaching to find the hooks of her bra. It takes no effort to unclasp the flimsy soaked fabric and discard it on the floor. Next, he coldly and methodically slips her underwear off.

He takes no pleasure in stripping an unconscious woman who can’t defend herself or struggle, yet he cannot resist observing what’s laid right in front of his eyes.

The sight is indeed pleasing.

‘Hate me later, princess. I am just a man.’

August climbs onto the bed and lies in front of her. He pulls her toward the warmth of his body until her forehead is pressed against his chest and every inch of her skin is covered by his own. With a clenched jaw, he holds her close.

In his arms she trembles, teeth chattering, while her heartbeat is feeble and can be hardly felt against his chest.

He thinks of nothing while holding the cold, half-dead girl against him.

Nothing at all.

Not the memory of another dead girl.

~*~

Ingvild scratches a scab on her knee, watching the other girls as they play without her. They stick their tongue at her and call her a freak. She doesn’t cry, only sniffles gently while her small fingers pry at the itchy skin.

“Ingvild,” Sister Marja walks toward her, making a sour face as she sees the girl. She never liked her either. “Someone is here to pick you up, finally.”

Little Ingvild jumps from the dirty log she is sitting on, brushing her skirt and arranging her braided pigtails before joining Sister Marja. ‘That uptight crone, all she needs is a good fuck.’

The sister hurries toward the orphanage while Ingvild runs after to keep up. Her heels echo on the floor through the arched hallway of the facility.

A man waits for them in the office of the Mother Superior, Yet another crone who looks like she never had a good fuck. But there is a smile on her face, making her loose skin become all creases and wrinkles like a dried rotten potato.

Ingvild looks at the man who stands with his hands behind his back. His hair is black with few threads of silver. She is uncertain if he is smiling or not; the expression on his face is of a person who’s trying to appear pleasant but in a very contained way.

“Ingvild, this is Liam.” Mother Superior speaks in her terrible heavy smoker voice. “He is your new adoptive father.”

~*~

Warm light strokes her face, forcing her eyes to blink open slowly. A basic function that suddenly feels oddly painful. Her eyelids are too heavy as if she never opened her eyes before in her life. The scenery around her is still too vague; she doesn’t recognize the room at all, wondering if she is in another dream.

A word in her own language blurts out of her mouth as she tries to sit up, accompanied by a small groan. Everything feels out of place as if her limbs have been misplaced and her internal organs exploded inside her body. Pain begins to course through her body, starting with the muscle of her right forearm which now feels extremely strained.

“Ah…” she grunts out, tugging at her arm which is in an odd position.. But for some reason, her arm won’t budge. It’s tied to the bedpost above her head by a tight rope.

‘This is hilarious. Like watching a dog wake up from anaesthesia.’

“Hva?” she asks in her mother’s tongue. “What?”

She gives the bind a few good moments of struggling before giving up. It’s when the heavy blanket that covers her slightly descends from her chest. She realizes she’s been completely stripped of her clothes.

Panicked, she hugs the cover to her chest with her free hand. Her eyes were looking around with slight anxiety while she continues to pull her right hand in an attempt to free herself.

The scent of coffee tickles at her nose, alerting her that she is not alone.

August appears in front of her with a red cup of coffee in his hand. He wears that familiar arrogant look with a hint of a smile, so vicious and cold it makes her feel she wasn’t only stripped off her clothes but of her skin and muscles as well.

Would have been better if I was stripped and bound to the devil’s bed.

He takes the wooden chair, dragging it on the floor which makes her cringe at the screeching sound. Fragments of the night before begin to fill the gaps in her memory. She tied him to this chair.

Placing it in front of her, he sits down, legs spread widely with confidence she can only describe to herself as irritating as fuck.

She hugs the cover tightly to her chest, her legs curling toward her torso to shelter herself which suddenly inflicts an excruciating pain in her lower abdomen making her moan involuntarily . Peeking beneath the thick blanket, she finds the large bandage on her torso, stained with a few drops of brownish-red blood.

“Good morning, love, we’ve had quite the night.”

More shards of memory begin to cut through her mind. Like remembering an event that happened so long ago, it almost feels like a dream. Her mind fights to make sense, to grasp at the fuller image. She recalls gasping through the woods at night with weak limbs and a hand full of blood. Then a shot that ripped through the night. Bats were flying everywhere and then her body was cold for some reason.

No, she was freezing.

Like a videotape that’s cut off and glitches in the middle, her memory stops there. Making her stare at the Scandinavian pattern on the blanket as if she will find any answers there.

“Who is Liam?” August asks, taking a long sip from his coffee. There is much amusement in seeing her cowering before him looking so helpless right now. Stripped, unarmed, and bound to his bed after he took her life and gave it back.

He licks his lips at her which only makes the alarmed look on her face become more distinguished.

“You’ve undressed me?” she asks, finding out her voice is aching and hoarse, as if something seared her throat. “And tied me to the bed?”

August’s teeth are exposed to her as his smile widens. She makes a note of two sharp fangs, it makes him look like a vampire. “Perceptive, aren’t we? Wasn’t for any personal interest, you were in hypothermia.”

He gives a small pause, his eyes travelling across her covered body, unable to deny how nice it was to wake up with a naked woman in his arms. “Not that I didn’t enjoy having your tits pressed to me for an entire night.”

Even as lost as she is, she can’t help but roll her eyes at him and groan with hatred.

‘If anyone in Icarus hears of this, I’m done for.’

Was the stinging pain in her chest failure or sepsis? Either way, it stung. This was far from how she imagined this mission going along. Ending up as a captive of psychotic target, tied to his bed as a future sex slave or heaven knows what.

‘How the fuck did I end up here? Like this? Why?’

August watches as she frowns with deep concentration, forcefully trying to evoke some memory of all the lost hours from last night. He wonders if she knows he killed her. He’d very much like to remind her of that, of how she was at his mercy and the only reason she’s alive right now is because he allowed it.

‘And still she tried to kill me right after I gave her back her life. What a woman.’

“Who is Liam? And please don’t make me ask again, given the poor situation you’re at right now, princess.”

More echoes begin to float in her mind. It’s the look of superiority on his face, the piercing gaze that threatens to cut right through her.

“You tried to kill me!”

“No. I have killed you,” he corrects her.

“You were dead for at least 5 or 7 minutes.”

She stares at him completely bemused, her eyes seeking answers on the lines of his chiselled face. There is no remorse, no care, no mercy in it. She doesn’t even bother to look for affection, whatever that looks like. He is as cold as Helheim.

“But you saved me. Why?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face straining as he remembers that idiotic idea he had last night, that mistake that’s now lying naked on his bed. For a man who plans ahead, he hasn’t thought this one through, not even for a second.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I only need you for intel. One wrong move and I’d be glad to put you back to the bottom of that lake.”

“You know who sent me, CIA, Erica Sloane.” She shrugs, staring at him oddly.

He leans forward in his chair looking deeper into her eyes, trying to invoke fear in her. Yet she remains stoic, only her eyes glaring at him like two icicles.

“How did you know I was here? Who else knows?”

“I’m a good tracker,” she answers, doing her best attempt to shrug her shoulders with one hand latched above her head. “And you are not as smart as you think you are, August Walker.”

August offers her a dangerous stare, crossing his arms around the wooden backseat while his feet push from the ground to lean closer to her. He doesn’t like to be challenged, especially not by silly little girls.

“Why is that?”

A small smile spreads on her face. “From all the vehicles you could have taken, you stole my bike.”

A hiss of disbelief leaves his nose but the answer doesn’t please him. He leans back on his chair until it lands forcefully on the ground, making a loud thud through the moderate silence in the room. His hand reaches toward her, grabbing her jaw and cupping it crudely.

“No, how did you know I was in Norway?”

She clenches her jaw, trying to escape his touch but his grip becomes firmer, his fingertips painting red marks on her sickly pale skin. “Answer me.”

“I didn’t-”

“Bullshit.” he challenges her, now closer to her face than she would have ever wanted. His hot breath is a breeze on her skin. Her natural instinct to learn details kicks in, forcing her to pay attention to every freckle s on his nose, his bottom lip, and the lines and small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

‘So much anger’, she analyzes. He is not even furious yet it seems he keeps so much bottled up.

‘Does he ever get tired?’

“I didn’t know,” she finally answers, both sincerity and scorn in her voice. Then, a small provoking smirk appears on her lips. “It was destiny that brought you to me.”

He snorts, shaking his head at her with disbelief, recalling their little flirtatious run-in 2 days ago. His eyes observe her while a smug smirk spreads across his face. He allows his gaze to travel further down her neck and her chest, attempting to peer beneath the blanket to get a reminder of what was pressed to his body the night before.

“Telling you the truth, August Walker, would have killed you then in the ladies room,” she provokes, aware of the fact that he’s staring at her chest even though she keeps it covered.

“Oh?” he returns his gaze back to her, a single finger now takes a hold of her chin, tilting her head up violently. “How would you have done that? I’m intrigued.”

Ingvild licks her lips, drawing attention to her mouth. It’s seduction that she offers but with that same cold, now vicious smile.

“Slicing your throat, while you’re were washing your stupid hair below the tap. I’d then shove a tampon up your ass and send a photo to everyone in Icarus and to Sloane so they can have a good laugh.”

‘My phone, shit.’

The mobile device is traceable, if Liam hasn’t heard from her in a few days he could find her. But now August has it, with the rest of the stuff he confiscated from her. She looks around, trying to find where he placed her items.

August interrupts her inspection, his hand wrapping around her sore throat with a menacing gaze. “Don’t give me any ideas, princess. I’m not the one tied up and naked here.”

“I need to go to the girls’ room,”

She ignores his threat, remaining calm despite the hand that can easily snap her neck.

He looks at her dumbfounded, clenching his jaw once more. “What?”

“I need to go…”

“I heard you.” he frowns, letting go of her throat forcefully and then shoving the chair back, making it screech against the wooden floor while pacing the room, irritated.

‘Great, now I’m a fucking babysitter?’

He begins to regret ever saving her pathetic little life. What is there to gain anyway? A guy named Liam? Whoever that is to her. She mumbled that name in her dreams when her body was struggling to fight for survival.

August finds the bathrobe in the shower room and throws it on the bed next to her, before hovering above her chest to cut her bindings with the same knife he used to stab her last night.

She tries to remain as relaxed and brave as she can, wanting him to think she is not intimidated by him and what she believes to be his empty threats. But every time he makes sudden movements. the intimidation shows in her beautiful grey eyes. Her body flinches and squirms helplessly.

If only she knew how aroused it made him, she’d be terrified.

“Try anything and I’ll unstitch you and let you bleed to death.”

Her wrist burns, the narrow rope has chafed her skin so badly there are deep purple marks on her flesh. She rubs it gently, trying to soothe the pain before grabbing the white cotton robe and staring at August with hatred.

He stares back at her while playing with the knife between his large hands. He slides a finger carefully on the edge of the sharp blade, making a harsh statement. No, he is not going to turn around.

Rolling her eyes she hides beneath the cover, pulling the bathrobe beneath and wearing it quickly, the relief of having something other than a blanket covering her feels almost astonishing.

At last, she throws the heavy blanket away and kicks her legs out of bed while wearing his oversized bathrobe. August remains silent, his eyes fixed upon her while the knife is pressed between his teeth.

Trying anything like killing him or escaping is far from realistic as she finds her legs hardly able to hold her own weight. The hardwood floor beneath her feet feels soft and mushy, if someone would have told her she’s stepping onto marshmallows she might have believed them.

She only manages to make two feeble steps before black spots appear in her sight and she falls forward with a pained grunt. She never makes it to the ground. Odd, she hasn’t noticed how big and strong he is when wrestling him on the floor. It seems that August has doubled in size.

“Who was it that didn’t love you, August?” she provokes coldly, grunting as she tries to lift her torso from his elbow. “Was it your mother? Or your dad?”

Silence and indifference is his answer to her query, with only a muscle that twitches in his cheek. He observes quietly as her hands grasp his biceps desperately and pathetically, trying to stabilize herself. It must make her hate him even more right now, to need him as much as she does.

He recalls how much he hated himself when he needed someone.

“Both then…” she answers, slightly panting.

“Did anyone ever loved you at all? Ingvild?” he taunts her back while helping her get to the toilet. He notices how her eyes look around while they move through the room, looking for her things, no doubt. She is smart, he’ll give her that, she is cunning and calculated even in her weakest moment.

But he’ll always be a step ahead.

“More than they loved you, I am sure.”

He lets her into the small room and shuts the door, leaning against it and patiently waits with his arms crossed. The sudden silence and her short absence begin to cloud his thoughts. It’s almost as if he’s dreaming awake, seeing her again, her hair falling from her decaying scalp like leaves falling from a tree.

‘Not more than you.’

The crude vibration of his phone snaps him back into reality. A message from one of the apostles, stating nothing but a location and an hour. He smirks to himself, glad to be soon away from this freezing hell. Now the question left is, what he should do with the little problem he created for himself?

Snap her little neck? Strangle her to death? Make it intimate, she deserves as much. He can already see his body hovering on top of hers, his hands wrapped around her, tight like a lover’s embrace. The robe opens as she struggles, exposing much of her naked flesh.

The thought makes him hum with delight but once again he is interrupted. This time it’s by her face that stares at him, blank of emotion, with eyes like two empty crystals. She leans against the door frame, her face tilted up to meet his gaze. “I need to shower. I smell like you.”

He wonders at all why he should fulfil her request. She’s a prisoner, not a guest, and far from being someone, he’d care for. His eyes run up and down her body and finally at the cold unreadable expression on her face.

“Whatever.”

The bathroom is rather large, surrounded by cream-coloured marble tiles that adorn both the walls and the flooring. There is a large, fancy bathtub in the middle of the room, one that is made to look old and classy with golden taps. An additional shower is placed at the other side of the room, surrounded by a thin wall of glass.

The bath looks so tempting, her eyes fixate upon it, fantasizing about slipping into a warm bubble bath with one of those pink and purple bath bombs.

August notices her fascination and snorts, edging her toward the shower instead. “You should’ve taken my offer back then, princess. Be thankful that I am allowing you the luxury of showering at all.”

For all, he cares she can die of infection, who knows what bacteria these lake water she bled into had.

“I’d take the shower over-sharing anything with you,” she spits back, her hand grasping the golden handle of the glass door. August remains facing, leaning against the marble tile with ease while sucking on his bottom lip with anticipation.

“Aren’t you going to at least turn away?” she asks naively, crooking her eyebrow up, bewildered by the large man who’s standing there with sheer confidence on his face, not bothering to give her an inch of privacy.

“No,” he smirks cockily, licking that small freckle on his lips. “You tried to kill me, I don’t trust you. But don’t worry, won’t be anything I haven’t seen before, princess.” he shrugs and tilts his head. His eyes gesture at the robe as he awaits for her to slip it off her body.

Ingvild chews the inside of her cheek with the fury that courses through her veins. He seeks to humiliate her even more, to show her again how little power she has.

But men are fools, a woman has more power over a man, especially when she is naked. She doesn’t mind what he sees and if he likes it or not anyway. Also, nervousness is not in her spectrum of emotions.

The white cotton robe falls off her body, landing at her feet with a soft thud. There she is standing completely bare before the man who tried to murdered her and who for some sick, twisted, megalomaniac reason nurtured her back to life.

Unlike last night, he has the freedom to linger on what stands in his sight. Milky white skin, stretched taut over an apt figure. Athletic; formed by years of whatever combat training she has endured. There are no scars on her body save for the new one he gave her which is hidden behind gauze. The thought of letting her survive just so she can curse him every time she sees the hideous crescent scar is quite the temptation.

He further inspects her body, imagining cupping her small breasts in his large hands, they will not fill his palms completely, but it will suffice. He was always more into women’s behind and the rounded shape of her tight ass is indeed pleasing.

“As I said, nothing I haven’t seen before,” he speaks out, letting his gaze travel back to meet her face again.

She hisses through her nose, rolling her eyes as she walks inside the translucent room and turns the stream of the water to wash over her body.

The heat of the water immediately makes her groan loudly with pleasure; it echoes through the entire room. Her body is far more battered than she even realized, it feels as almost as if she is being redeemed, baptized, or whatever other religious allegories she could think of.

She leans against the wall for support with both her palms flat against the surface. Her back arches and she lets her head tilt back with her eyes tightly shut. The damp hair sticks to her spine, while she lets the droplets of water slide between her perky breasts and down her torso.

Sweet moans escape between her lips with every second, accompanying the water that soothe her aching muscles.

August can feel the fabric of his trousers tightening as blood stirs through the veins of his cock. She squirms beneath the stream, moving so sensually while making these “fuck me” noises all too clear. It’s meant to tease and provoke him. He is tempted to march in there and fuck the living hell out of her.

Fucking her to death, now that one I haven’t tried before.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, turning to face him while the water trickles down her back. She can see the hardness in his groin, growing larger and larger with every second she stands there wet and naked.

“I am, actually,” he answers, not bothering to hide his desire.

She turns to face the shower tap, one hand plastered to the wall while the other leisurely runs down her chest. Smooth and slick, she allows it to circle her breast, making sure August can see how her finger brushes the hardening peachy nipple before descending along her flat torso.

His breath becomes rigid, his eyes furiously focusing on how she praises her own body. Her lids are half-hooded, hazy with lust and her mouth is reddening and slight swelling as she bites into her plush lips with delight. He dares, taking a step closer, allowing himself to have a better view of the show.

It is for him after all, is it not?

Tender and slow like honey, she lets her fingers creep between her thighs. In her mind, she fancies larger hands taking control over her body. A man’s hands, hands that are rough and callous, counter to how she is built, yet they caress her gently, working their way up between her inner thighs and spreading her open.

A feverish moan escapes her tightened lips as her fingers rub against her clit. She opens her eyes with her head thrown to the side. Giving August a lustful stare, cruel and full of snide she begins working herself with sensual strokes. She can feel her own wetness, thick and oily against her delicate fingers.

August’s nostrils flare, the bulge in his groin now enormous and aching for release.

Does she think she is torturing him? Does she even know men?

He inches closer toward the shower, close enough until so his hand can touch the glass which is now covered with tiny droplets of water and a thin layer of steam. His hand falls toward the zipper of his trousers, letting it sink before reaching out to pull his erect cock.

There is a smitten look upon her face, and an unpleasant chill runs through her spine as if she is intimidated by the sheer sight of him. Obviously, he is very much aware of how impossibly large he is. She gathers he is used to the look she is giving him, knowing exactly what’s going through her mind.

“Why are you stopping then, princess?” he asks with a cocky smile, his large hand wraps around the base of his hard cock, immediately beginning to stroke while eliciting deep, low groans.

Ingvild finds it surprisingly arousing, unable to help herself but stare at how his fingers engulf the fleshy shaft, feeling herself throb at the sight of the thick bulging veins and the ridges that run across his erection. When she started this little game it was in order to abuse him. But now, there is a certain desperation in her spiteful urge.

Looking at him as if driven to insanity, she lets her fingers massage her mound with increasing force, hard yet slow while her thumb traces the engorged nub. With every intent to let him see what he cannot take, she leans against the wall and parts her legs wide for him, letting him see her pink cunt and how her fingers play and tease while her other hand moves to squeeze her breast.

Her mind escapes into fantasies again, to urge the tingling sensation that burns between her thighs. Betrayed by lust, it’s him that she sees, holding her down as he did the night before, only that instead of trying to kill her he tears off her panties and splits her flesh open with his enormous cock.

The yelp that escapes her mouth is barely human, the image triggering something dark and unfamiliar and despite its wrongness now all she can think of is him.

August, on the other hand, is anything but inclined to indulge this. Pumping his cock urgently, he imagines pounding the little valkyrie against the wall, his grunts so low and loud he is certain the neighbours renting the room nearby can hear.

‘Have you ever fucked an undead girl? Imagine how sweet that wet little cunt must be after coming back to life… milking around you as if you are her saviour, your cock a gift sent from heaven…’

‘Or hell.’

Leaning his forehead against the glass, his breath leaves a veil of steam against the surface while he glances at Ingvild climbing toward her climax.

“Fuck!” She shudders, trying to fight the burning image of him in her mind, but these forbidden fantasies continue to assail her; all the different ways he could take her, exploit and humiliate her. How his body would feel atop of hers while he holds her down and hammer her into the floor.

Her battle wanes, heat spills between her legs as she falls into dark euphoria.

Seeing her arch against the tiles, naked and showered by ecstasy, his control finally snaps. August slams a hand against the glass, spourting white ribbons of cum all over the surface.

‘Oh to see her die and then burst with life…’

They stand in front of one another, both with heaving chests and frowning faces.

Finally, she turns the stream off and opens the glass door while August tucks himself back in. Apparent sweat covers his forehead while his chest is still heaving. She crouches to grab the robe, wearing it again while moving next to him with a teasing look on her face.

Although her legs feel feeble, the adrenaline made the blood kickstart her body again, her heart pumping with excitement as life returned to her system. She pushes past August scornfully, letting him follow her as she walks out of the bathroom.

He grabs her elbow, shooting her a warning glare. “Where do you think you are going?”

She tries to fight him but his grip is fierce and she is too weak.

“You are still a prisoner here,” he warns her and begins to lead her back to the bedroom and toward the bed while grabbing more rope on the way. He notices once again how she desperately seeks her personal belongings, gun, and phone.

“Don’t bother, angel, it’s all in the bottom of the lake.”

______________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible or August Walker

#Henry Cavill #August Walker #August Walker Fanfic #August Walker Fic #August Walker x ofc #Henry Cavill x ofc #Henry Cavill fanfiction #mission impossible fallout #mi6

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soranihimawari · 3 years

Text

Miracles on the Court

I had stumbled upon this rough draft for a MSBY!Sakusa x reporter!yn recently & I have decided to post it here. I did use fem!pronouns here as well. I cannot stress this enough that this piece is post-timeskip...

Warnings: SFW with Sakusa

Rating: SKF [Sakusa Kiyoomi Fluff]

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: 'Senshu'-a honorific term used when addressing professional athletes.

>> the gray frame>>

Your journal sits by the radio in the living room. There is a collection of oddly placed kit-kat wrappers next to the melted candles adjacent to the stacks of sports magazines. You sit cross-legged on the paisley printed carpet in your house clothes consisting of an old jersey with his faded name stitched on the back and gray compression shorts. The name brand shoes that lined the hallway behind you in your lover’s home seem to be aligning themselves with the path of least resistance to your resting quarters. It’s been a long time since both of you were home, even longer judging by the stacks of takeout bento boxes and pizza containers thus making the kitchen area seem more like a college dorm than an expensive mini-mansion in Tokyo.

Tonight, after changing from the formal attire to attract potential business partners (and sponsors), you allowed your lover to lead the way back to his place where you have come and gone more frequently than either of you had liked to admit. Thus this leads you to his teammates to coerce him into making a spare key for you. Granted, you had toyed with the idea of you moving in permanently, yet the discussion was to be tabled after garnering a few more approval e-mails from your employer. The work from home paperwork had been submitted since you were in charge of renewing photo copyrights for the small neighborhood sports magazine you helped found back in your senior year of obtaining your bachelor’s of mass communication. Around this time, you had heard of your acquaintance being signed on to be part of the MSBY team due to his astounding performance in the collegiate leagues for volleyball. You weren’t that surprised given his skill set being an opposite hitter nonetheless. From the formalities of the signing onward, you seemed to have witnessed your acquaintance shed his gloomy demeanor as he learned to spread his wings and literally reprogram himself to run with jackals.

A few years later, post his debut and among the buzz of the season standings right before the 2021 Olympics, you are spotted by one of his teammates in a press-junket sporting a “casual” reporter outfit: pinstriped pants, Nike running shoes, and a dry-fit black and gold turtleneck. Your editor-in-chief thought it would be a great idea sending you to interview members of the MSBY team shortly after their win against the Adlers after reviewing your personnel file where the name of the university you attended matched one of the predominant players. However, the weather was less than favorable, so there you stood in a crowded room with other reporters, with your hair slightly undone in a loose braid (thank you wind) and a notebook in your hand. A lot of the older reporters who were familiar with the athletics clubs had their questions asked and answered in a rather efficient manner. Your notebook was filled with shorthand notes of each of the responses while also drawing up questions of your own.

“And we have time for one or two more questions,” the PR-rep from the team had announced. For whatever reason, your hand shot up first and the suit nodded. You cleared your throat first before stepping a bit forward, eyes shining like a trickster god about to stir something up. Your presence makes one of the players stiffen even more so than before. His teammates notice this, but he is the first one to answer the question you asked.

“Do you believe in miracles?”

“I believe in my own abilities and in provoking the rest of my team to perform their best,” his usual strict tone is clouded with a sort of coyness.

Three and a half years later, you stare back at the notebook in the living room where you wrote down his response. The torn corner of the bottom right of the next page where you scribbled your phone number along with attaching a ‘you were really cool out there sakusa,’ has yellowed over time. Your mind replays a highlight reel of when you kept receiving requests from the PR-team for MSBY asking you to at least attend a few more games shortly after creating quite a buzz with making one of their most intimidating members speak more so than necessary.

Your presence had garnered attention from other players on the team: Miya, Bokuto, and Hinata. Those three would tease their teammate relentlessly at formal dinner parties where your cohorts in the press room were enjoying the festivities. It was the nature of the business where more powerful and prestigious magazines and sports columnists within news reporting were wildly accepting invitations left and right.

“She didn’t come?” Hinata asked after finding Sakusa stepping outside the banquet hall for some much needed air. The rustling of the leaves in the breeze was one way to confirm your absence much like Sakusa’s silent response to his teammate’s question.

“Ya know Omi-kun, you should just invite her as a plus one to the next one!” Hinata suggests.

“And why would I do that?” Sakusa inquired.

“Because ya have a crush on that reporter,” Atsumu teases. Bokuto lets out an audible gasp the moment the truth is seen on the furrow of their stoic teammates brow.

“Whatever,” Sakusa mumbles.

That is exactly what happened a month later from this past shing-dig. One month of making final fittings and arrangements; one month of tabloid photographers snapping photos of you with sunshades the size of cicadas when you were spotted heading into the rear entrance of gyms where the team practiced; a month’s salary went to trying on different outfits, etc. You didn’t seem nervous or anxious when your rideshare was coming around the corner of the garden party. Your light strawberry pink romper and ruby blazer went well with the rose colored pumps. What you did not expect was to see was one old collegiate acquaintance be reduced to a flustered young adult in front of you; you see his onyx eyes constrict and relax as Hinata waves you toward the table furthest away from the clumps of supporters surrounding Miya and Bokuto. A waiter hands you a champagne flute with mixed berries and you casually maneuver to where the sunshine child and the perpetual brooder stood.

“You made it!” Hinata greeted you by flagging you down with his arms.

You hummed prior to taking a sip of the cocktail from the glass in your hand. Minutes later, Hinata is pulled away to talk to one of the representatives from Bouncing Ball Corp thus leaving you two alone.

“Thank you for the invitation,” you say cooly.

Your champagne flute is nearly finished by the time you think of something coherent to say. Your eyes dance around the room before settling on the profile of the statuesque athlete next to you. He was hoping you didn’t hear or see the invisible firefly from his stomach fall out of his lips behind his mask. The glow from the heavens above having you near him caused him to grip the tablecloth slightly stronger.

“Even if it wasn’t your idea, Sakusa-senshu,” your voice teased his ears just enough to elicit a soft pink halo under the exposed apples of his cheek. “The formal attire is a bonus though.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see how well an all ebony ensemble highlights his skin tone making him look more menacing as a wolf in sheep's clothing than a human adonis (or at least in hindsight, a former classmate).

“Likewise.”

One word out of him confirmed his own feelings for the first time in a little over five years. This one word caused your head to turn in surprise because you didn’t think that was where this was going and as the cliche goes, the rest is history as Hinata would say.

The journal in your hands now has been filled with all the rough drafts and revisions of articles cataloging the career of one of Japan’s best volleyball teams starting from the Monster Generation onward. However, that was another story for some other time as you hear the chime on the front door signaling the arrival of the man whose last name will be yours in a few weeks time.

#©️himawaripapers #🌻.txt #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora sribbles #msby!sakusa x reporter!yn #sakusa fluff #haikyu!! fiction #sora after hours

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gukiee · 7 years

Photo

Jungkook Smile Series: 3rd Muster DVD

#armiesnet #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan boys #bangtan #mygif #jk smile series #:((((( i love him so #fucking #much #oh my god #it took me 24 hours to watch this dvd because i had to pause it every time he smiled wtf #im so whipped i would d*e fo ru #also for whatever reason that one gif is like??? compressed ???#idk why it's like that #n just pretend the colouring isn't #a mess I tried ok

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tinysaurus-rex · 4 years

Text

Oops.

I wasn’t very careful between being busy and good ol’ winter depression, and had a surprise from the aviary last month.

Four baby squabs hatched December 16th 2019...two big white babies from Al and Yuki, two little blues from local lesbians Danny and Carrie. Er, well, I guess Danny and Carrie aren’t actually lesbians, they’re bi pigeons. This is what I get for making assumptions, four children. LUCKILY I don’t have six, since Danny lays two eggs and Carrie lays two eggs, only one of each hens’ eggs hatched!

Uh, my excuses are as followed: last time Carrie and Danny had a clutch, their eggs didn’t develop at all because they are both hens and hadn’t gotten down with any of the cocks in the aviary. I assumed this would be the case again and just left their four eggs in the nest, checked them about a week in and didn’t see any development so I didn’t bother replacing them. As for Yuki and Al, I didn’t even know they were nesting since they decided to nest BEHIND the nestbox instead of in it, I just noticed after I discovered Carrie and Danny’s babs, huh, where’s Yuki? Spent 5 minutes looking for her, panick growing- did she escape??? How??? then found her in the forbidden nest.

TLDR; pigeon rescuer is dumbass, outsmarted by pigeons.

Bad news is I don’t have room in the aviary for more pidgies, good news is-

they’re wonderful pidgies! Parents raised them up until they were 3 weeks, then I took them inside to finish the job with Rex. I love these babies, they’re absolutely lovely little gremlins, I would LOVE to keep them, especially the dark one in that upper left pic with the spotted chest. But no space, and can only have 1 adult pidge in the house due to brother’s allergies. Weirdly enough, all four babies ended up being hens. What are the odds, right? Well, usually the odds are 50/50. All other clutches I’ve had have been 1 cock and 1 hen.

Two of the four babies already have lovely homes lined up, so that means two still need a home. The splotchy white one (Magpie) is going to a very dear friend, the tiniest blue bar (Squeaks) is going to a wonderful friend of a friend. So that leaves the solid white and the darkest one. Here’s a little bit about them:

On the left, this little baby is HUGE! She’s very sweet, but also kind of a dumb baby. It took her forever to learn to self feed, she still has a hard time with it and I have to help her. Oddly enough she’s the most physically developed, little-to-no down left and just gorgeous, solid white feathers which she keeps very clean. She’s the boss, despite being the least mentally developed, and very pushy. Her cloaca “smiled” indicated a cock for 3 weeks of her life, but has changed to a frown consistently the last week, indicating a hen. She’s very cuddly and eager to interact with humans and pigeons alike, Rex is kinda a dick to her but that doesn’t stop her from tryinf to be friends with Rex. Her favorite thing is to have her head covered by your hand and be gently compressed like the marshmallow she is. She would make a good companion pidge or a good pair with the other baby available, who she gets along with quite well.

Like I said, this one is my favorite. The daughter of Danny (clearly, you can tell by that striking dark color) and I think the dad is Jon since even though Danny is mean to baby boy Jon, she presented to him the other day but then got agitated and chased him before he get it done...they probably did is siccessfully at one point to produce this angel. So I been calling her “Rook,” but you can of course name her whatever you want (my brother named the big white one “Moby” but these guys don’t know their names yet). She was SO much like her mom was, just a ball of anxiety and fear. It didn’t take too much extra work to turn that anxiety into a gentle, calm demeanor. She’s still really quiet, kinda spooked by new things easily. Gets this real worried look in her eye when something she’s not familiar with happens. She is extremely intelligent, learned how to eat first, come out of the baby cage on her own first, hop onto my hand first, drink first...basically anything that I’ve taught them she’s learned first. I can’t see her doing well as a companion pidge, she needs to have another pigeon as her mate. She is sweet and friendly, but would much rather be with her own kind. I ask that either she goes with the big white hen as a pair, or that you already have pigeons she can live with.

They’re $20 each and I can ship anywhere in the continental United States. They’re $30 together if you take both of them as a pair. Shipping is dependent on your address.

They’ll be ready to go to you January 25th, and I can hold them for a month after that before they start producing dust that could put my brother in danger, so of you aren’t ready for them by February 25th then I’ll have to find someone else (I’d refund your money if you paid ahead).

It’s really not urgent as I can find a home for these guys really easily, but thought I’d see if any of Rex’s followers were interested first! They’re very cute babies, I wanna keep ‘em so bad. Rex only likes the blue ones this time for whatever reason, idk she’s weird.

One more thing, please keep in mind that while the parents are healthy, and they themselves are healthy, they come from rescue pigeons. Idk what those genes got in ‘em. Yuki is an ex-racer who was a japanese import, Al is a dog training survivior, Danny is a tiny feral from Syracuse, Carrie’s mom (Piper) is a feral from NYC and her dad (Oliver) was a feral from near Canada. These babies are extremely genetically diverse if anything, but I can’t guarantee longterm health because of that, and I apologize. They’re super healthy right now, and while I don’t foresee any issues please keep that in mind. If you want predictability please find a good breeder. These guys are just lil genetic gachapons.

Post made 01/09/20

#pigeons #pigeon #12/16/19

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

Why Do You Struggle In Silence?

Hotch x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: For some reason, the case they just finished is getting to her. Hotch decides to talk to her about it on the jet. Story three.

Category: Some angst, I guess.

Warnings: Cussing. Quick mention of normal CM stuff and sexual abuse.

Word Count: 2.1k

I had always had a talent for shutting people up. Whether that was a threat, a look, or some other uncomfortable comment I made, usually regarding myself, I found I could always get people to shut the hell up. Ever since I announced to the whole team that I’d killed people, that’s the reaction I received, which was fantastic considering they all already didn’t like me. Except for Emily who was the only one willing to even talk to me, but that information just reverted her back to thinking like everyone else, as it should for any normal person.

We boarded the jet, and I took my usual spot in the back, everyone else sitting or sleeping together in the front. Everyone had something they could do on the plane. Morgan and his music, Reid and his books, Prentiss and Jareau sleeping together, Aaron and Rossi talking to each other. I would listen to music but they refused to give me a phone (which was fair enough) and I would read but I guess they’re worried that I’d be inclined to give others papercuts? It was ridiculous. I had to sit there with my thoughts (something I’d grown way too accustomed to) or look through another case file. I opted for the latter.

Usually what other people did or said to me didn’t bother me. What other people did or said to other people didn’t particularly bother me either. But for some reason, this last case bothered me. These young women, who were the same age as me and looked a lot like me, were found exsanguinated in a ditch. They were all perfect students with perfect families and perfect friends. They were going places.

And then they weren’t.

Which especially pissed me off. Then I was pissed off that I was especially pissed off. So I decided that I needed to keep my mind occupied. That’s the funny thing about this job, looking at a new serial killer case is actually better than contemplating other disturbing thoughts.

I had just opened the next case file when someone sat down in the seat across from me.

“Aundreya,” Aaron said.

“Aaron,” I replied. “Uh I mean, Hotchner.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Correct yourself like that, calling me Hotchner?” I could see the sincerity in his eyes. He always looked so stone cold, but in that moment I could see something different. It worried me.

“I don’t know. I guess I realized the people you consider family aren’t even on a first name basis with you, so why should I be?”

“You don’t even use nicknames. I’m Hotchner, JJ is Jareau, Spencer is Dr. Reid …”

Because I haven’t earned them yet. I haven’t gotten to the point where they’d be okay with me calling them anything else. I’d be impeding on your guys’ territory. Any of these explanations would fit, but I didn’t feel like admitting any of them.

“Look, Hotchner-”

“You can call me Aaron,” he cut me off. My mouth hung open midsentece, the words evaporating from my tongue. My confusion must have been painted on my face because he quickly followed with, “You’ve always called me Aaron. It’s weird to hear you call me something different. Plus, sometimes I need someone other than Dave to remind me what my first name is.”

Was that … a joke? From Aaron Hotchner? I really must be losing it.

“Okay … Aaron,” I emphasized, “Why are you really here? I’m fairly certain you didn’t make the treacherous trip all the way over to the opposite end of the plane just to ask me about nicknames.”

“True. I actually wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“So are you going to?” I asked. Even when he was trying to be nice I couldn’t override my instinct to be an ass.

“Going to what?”

“Ask how I’m doing?” There were those unamused, dagger eyes I know and love.

“You’re stalling.”

“In fact I am, sir,” I responded. There were plenty of things in the world I disliked, but the thing I hated above all else, was talking about myself and those things called emotions. It all just felt so foreign.

Aaron looked at me for a while before speaking. It’s like I could physically see the ice melting around his eyes, softening them back up. And profiling. Always profiling.

Finally, he came out with it. “Why do you struggle in silence?”

Those six words hit me like a brick from a skyscraper. No one had ever cared enough to ask, not even Deen or Sydney. It sent an entire shock wave through my system.

Struggling in silence was the only real way I’d learned how to cope with everything over the years. No one on the streets wanted to hear about what was going wrong in your life and why it sucked because theirs’ always sucked more. Better yet, you brought it upon yourself and it was somehow your fault. Oh your mom and sister died in a fire? My dad killed my mom then committed suicide. Oh you’re out here on the streets at 14? Try 12. Oh you’re being sexually abused in a gang? You joined it.

Once I got thrown in prison, there was no time for feelings. Adapt or die. Either you shoved it all down, proved your worth, and reacted on instinct, or you went soft and got eaten alive. Not like anyone going to prison is necessarily ‘soft’ to begin with.

The only thing I could think to do was deflect. “What do you mean?”

“You insist on sitting here alone with your thoughts and they’re tearing you apart. Instead of talking about them, you compress them and turn them into rage that comes out in random bursts. Usually you can keep it in check, but I saw something different this week, especially today. So how are you doing?” The concern was swimming in his eyes. There was something soothing about the way he could keep his voice calm and quiet when relaying any sort of information. He could convince me the year was 1872 and unicorns existed.

“I’m doing a whole hell of a lot better than those girls, I’ll tell you that. I’m not bleeding out in a ditch, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well,” I said more harshly than I intended.

“Is that what this is about? The case we just worked?”

I sighed and looked down. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Of course it matters. The work we do matters and each team member matters,” he replied. We sat there in silence for a while before he spoke again. “If you aren’t going to tell me what’s going on, which I figured you wouldn’t, at least tell me why you choose to struggle in silence.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s what I’ve always done, and it’s not like I have any other options.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that no one wants to hear my problems. I don’t even want to hear my problems. There’s not a single person on the planet that wants to listen to a street rat gang criminal complain about what’s bothering her,” I answered. It’s true. I bet the nicest shrink out there would roll their eyes at the idea of me complaining. “Anything that’s an issue for me I’ve probably brought upon myself anyway and if I haven’t, I’m sure I deserve it.”

“You know that’s not true. Each person deserves to-”

“Not me, Aaron, not me. I’m not deserving of whatever it was you were about to say. I’m much more deserving to swap places with those girls because they definitely didn’t deserve to die like that,” I said. I wanted to hit myself for saying anything at all. He didn’t actually want to hear what I had to say, he probably just asked so that he still seemed like a good unit chief. Aaron just looked at me, realization forming on his face. “And I don’t deserve to be complaining. Especially not to you.”

“Especially not to me?”

“Especially not to any of you. Every single person on this plane has their fair share of issues and is doing just fine. You don’t need my problems being spread around on top of that. So yeah, I choose to struggle in silence.”

“So you think that just because you have a troubled past, you don’t deserve to have a weight lifted off your shoulders?” he prompted.

“You could say that,” I responded. His eyes were still questioning and he let the air hang between us, waiting for me to fill the void. “It just doesn’t make sense to me, you know? Like why were those smart, pure women who had good things going for them cut short at 23 while I’ve made just about every bad decision in the book and I’m still kicking?”

Hotch was incredible at giving intense eye contact and not breaking it. Yet right when I finished talking, I saw his eyes flick to the side in the direction where I assumed everyone else was sitting. It was only for a millisecond, but it was just enough to alert me that not everyone was preoccupied or sleeping like I’d initially thought when I first sat down, turning my back to the rest of the team. I tried not to let on that I’d seen it.

“Trust me, everyone who has ever worked for the FBI has asked that same question. My best answer is that we still have work to do,” he offered. It was a valid enough answer, but I was still irritated. Irritated that I’d let on I was bothered, irritated that I’d just admitted it out loud, irritated that he was so level headed about it. I was determined not to share any more about myself and my feelings. It made me feel gross.

Apparently among Hotch’s many talents was also mind reading, because he followed with, “Just so you know, in case you ever decide to stop struggling in silence, the team and I are here for you.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at him. “No. They’re not. But I appreciate you saying that and I appreciate you being here. Even though I know you still don’t fully trust or respect me.” He looked at me with a combination of shock, betrayal, and wonder. He immediately reverted back to stone, which he did whenever he felt like he was being read too easily, like a defense mechanism. Like I’d seen something I shouldn’t have.

“Oh, come on, Aaron. I know it’s taking every fiber in your body not to just slap handcuffs on me right here right now and keep it that way. Don’t worry, I’m not offended by it. It makes sense considering you’ve spent over twelve years dedicated to putting handcuffs on people like me. That’s why I especially appreciate your efforts to fight that very same instinct you’ve been fine-tuning all these years.” I didn’t think it was possible, but I had rendered the great Aaron Hotchner speechless. He looked at me with that blank expression, but his eyes spoke volumes. They told me that I was right, that he never intended for me to know that, and that he was not used to being on the receiving end of being profiled.

I gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “But don’t worry. If I ever get tired of it, or decide my method of coping is no longer working for me, you will be the first to know.”

Still not knowing exactly what to do, Aaron nodded, got up from his place across from me, and started walking back to where he was sitting before. I caught him just before he got out of arm's reach.

“Oh and Aaron,” I stopped him with a slight smirk, “I think it’d do you some good to remind your children that eavesdropping is supposedly rude.”

I received a single nod and the beginnings of a smirk as he turned to walk away.

From behind me I heard Rossi whisper, “Supposedly rude, huh?”

“I guess because she’s the master at it,” Morgan whispered.

“I knew she’d know we were listening,” Prentiss joined.

“Your children?” Reid asked. I allowed myself a slight smile when he said that.

“She’s not completely wrong, though,” Aaron answered. I could basically feel the teasing and silent laughs radiating from behind me.

I shook my head, slightly amused at how on-edge I could make six FBI profilers. I directed my attention back to the case file in front of me, grateful to finally let the irritated feeling looming over me dissipate.

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spideyy-girl · 5 years

Text

Hope ~ Peter Parker (pt. III)

Summary: Y/N gears up and gets ready to go into battle, determined as ever to get her best friend and the love of her life, Peter Parker, back to her after 5 long years without him.

Fandom: MCU

Warnings: bit of swearing as per usual, depictions of violence, fighting, blood, death, and other gory scenes, angst and fluffy at the end. THIS DOES NOT FOLLOW MCU CANON! EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN SNAPPED WAS AGED THE SAME AS THOSE WHO WEREN’T, SO PETER IS STILL THE SAME AGE OF Y/N, AND THEY ARE BOTH AROUND 21!!!!

Word Count: 10100 (28 pages wOAh)

A/N: finally, the long-awaited finale for Hope is here! Thanks to everyone who showed so much support for this series I love every single one of you honestly! Lmk if you guys want an epilogue? cause I don't wanna be done with this series yet lol

If you haven’t read the first two parts, I would suggest looking through them before reading this!

PART 1 ~ PART 2 ~ MASTERLIST

~~~

Y/N walked towards the large platform in the middle of the room with the remaining of the Avengers, all in their rather cool looking matching time heist suits. She had to admit that she felt pretty badass, walking alongside the world's mightiest heroes, going off to save the world like it was any other Tuesday for them.

After the young girl found out the formula of time travel and showed it to Tony, they had created a steady device and explained the idea to the team, which everyone quickly agreed with. They had been split up into three teams to go back in time and gather all six infinity stones before Thanos could find or use them. The teams were split up into Natasha, Clint, Nebula and Rhodey to get the soul and power stones, Thor, and Rocket to get the reality stone (or ether I guess), and Scott, Bruce, Tony, Steve and Y/N to get the Time, Mind, and Space stones.

The team now stood on the platform, putting their hands together as Steve performed his motivational speech, Y/N clung onto every word, still shocked that she got to suit up with them, and also a bit nervous. But she knew that she had the proper training if it came to it and if worse comes to worst, she has a quick solution handy in her pocket, one that she's been carrying around for years.

"One round trip each. No mistakes, no do-overs," Cap spoke as he looked around at everyone in the circle. "Most of us are going to a place we know; that doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful, look out for each other." Y/N looked beside her up at Tony, who smiled reassuringly at her. "This is the fight of our lives, and we're gonna win. Whatever it takes." Steve finished his speech as they separated hands. Y/N looked over at Nat and gave her a smile, to which she returned.

"See you in a minute," she says winking over at her mentee. She rolled her eyes but laughed. Suddenly the machine above them started to whir and spin around, and the mask on Y/N's suit came up to cover her face. She felt her breathing start to go heavy but soon relaxed as Tony gave her hand a squeeze. She felt her body being compressed down into the size of an atom and swept away into the quantum realm, trying to control herself and following the lead of Tony just in front of her.

Before she knew it her feet hit the ground below her and her knees buckled from underneath her. As she regained her balance and looked up, her eyes went wide as she took in the scene in front of her. Just a few feet away, she saw the original Avengers, formed in a circle and gearing up for the infamous battle of 2012 against Loki. Y/N almost let out a squeal, remembering watching them do their work on the news when she was younger.

"You alright there?" Tony asked as he gave the girl a teasing smile. "You look like you're about to explode." Y/N shook her head but smiled back.

"Yeah I just, wow I was such a fan of you guys when I was younger," she said as she watched on as they parted ways and did their own thing to take down as many aliens as possible. She then looked back up at Tony and smirked, one that reminded him of himself. "You guys were so much cooler back then. Now you're all like, big old grampa's."

"Woah!" Tony said, giving her a playful look of pain as he grabbed his heart as if she had stabbed him with her comment. "Ouch, you know I understand why you would say that for Cap, cause he's literally like, 100 years old but for me?"

"Guys we have to focus here," Bruce caught their attention before Y/N could come back with another snarky comeback. "God sometimes I wonder how the two of you arent's related, you're like the same person nowadays." Tony rolled his eyes, looking back out onto the street.

Before they could try and cross the street to get to the Stark Tower, a giant and raging green Hulk came down from the ground, pounding robots into the ground and flinging them around like ragdolls. As the group looked back at Bruce he covered his face, embarrassed of what he used to be. Steve told Bruce and Scott to find Dr. Strange and the time stone while he, Tony, and Y/N went up to the Stark tower to get the mind and space stone. As they got in and saw the past Avengers, Steve departed to get Loki's staff, containing the mind stone, while Tony and Y/N worked on getting the Tesseract.

Y/N hid out in a small conference room out of sight, since Tony didn't want her directly participating in the mission, much to her demise. She opened her laptop, which she disguised as a briefcase. She quickly typed in the password before pulling up multiple programs on the small screen, including a camera view from Tony's glasses and a controller for a small robotic device she'd use to slip around without being realized.

"You sure this is gonna work, kid?" Tony asked quietly through the comm, causing Y/N to roll her eyes.

"Yes, Tony. I've been working on this model forever, I know what I'm doing," she sassed back, looking through a small camera on the spider-shaped device she originally created with Peter. "Just remember I'm the reason we're all here. I'm not just a pretty face, Stark."

"Yeah yeah," he mumbled as he watched his past self pack up the Tesseract in a briefcase. "Ok, spider-girl, release your little spiderling." He says dramatically as the spider crawls from his pocket and makes its way onto the roof. Y/N chuckled at the nickname before focusing on controlling the spider-robot, the decoy lowering itself onto past Tony's shoulder without anyone noticing. She couldn't help but let out a little squeal at her excellent work. She watched through the small cam as the Avengers (excluding Hulk, who was told to take the stairs) made their way into the foyer of the building.

Tony watched along as his past self walks along with the other original Avengers and Loki. Alexander Pierce and his crew walked towards them as present-day Tony gave Y/N the signal to drop down. Y/N dropped the spider drone into Tony's beard and then down onto his chest, the almost microscopic robot slipping through and into his arc reactor. She explores for a while until she finds what Tony had told her would cause the distraction.

"Is this really a good idea, Stark?" Y/N asked worriedly, not thinking of the consequences until then.

"Yeah, sure. It'll only cause me to go into a tiny cardiac distract," Tony stated casually, and Y/N's eyes widened immediately, stopping the robot.

"What?!" She says, shaking her head. "Okay, no. No no no no no. I'm not gonna do this, we can figure out something else it'll be fine."

"Y/N, hey, calm down," Tony says, his voice going lower. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I mean I'm still here, so that's gotta mean something right? If I died I wouldn't be here." Y/N scoffed at his words, but still, her hands were shaking, not wanting to hurt someone she had gotten so close to. She couldn't bear if anything happened to him.

"No shit, Sherlock," she whispers back into the comm, but loud enough for him to hear it. He rolled his eyes and continued to watch as Pierce tried to snatch the case away from his hands. "Time's running out, Y/N. Pull my pin!"

"Okay, okay, give me a second." She said as she maneuvered the tiny device to the said area with a small pin that helped keep everything in the arc reactor together. "But if you die, Tony, it'll be your funeral. Literally." She comments back to try and defuse the tension she felt. He quietly gave her another reassurance before giving the signal. With the small metal pinchers, Y/N pulled the cord in the arc reactor and through the other camera through Tony's glasses she saw past Tony fall to the floor just as Pierce was taking the case containing the Tesseract from his hands.

The metal case fell to the floor with a hard clank and 2012 Tony followed soon after it, shaking slightly on the floor. Pierce and his crew members, as well as the other Avengers there, kneeled down beside him and tried to figure out what was wrong.

The small metallic robot climbed out from Tony's reactor and pushed the case over to Tony, who was disguised as a staff of security. He discreetly picked it up and began walking away from the scene as medics began rushing to help the famous billionaire on the floor. What they didn't know was that they weren't as discreet as they thought.

"Good job, kid. Meet me in the alley, I'm gonna-" but was cut off as a big green angry hulk burst through the door, knocking down Tony and flinging the tesseract out of its case and down the hallway. The bright blue square landed right at the feet of Loki, who looked down and quickly picked it up, using its powers to teleport him out of the tower as people were too distracted running in terror.

Thor tapped his hammer against Tony's chest, causing him to stop shaking and blink frantically, looking at his surroundings. "Where's the case?" Y/N heard him ask. Her face dropped as she moved to drone to look all around the room, finding no clue where the Tesseract or Loki himself was.

"Fuck this," she mumbled, working her computers to try and get into the security tapes, looking for what might've happened to either of them. "That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?"

Tony sat himself up on his elbows looking around to see people screaming and running away from the Hulk, who was screaming about no stairs, and to his other side, officers looking for Loki and the Tesseract. “Shit.”

Y/N quickly packed up her computers and put them back into her bag, running out to meet Tony at the alleyway where they had come in. She found an abandoned car parked beside it and saw Tony already sitting in its head in his hand as he observed the destruction outside.

“What the hell happened, Stark?” She said as she got into the back seat. “We had the Tesseract, where did it go?” Tony sighed, closing his eyes as he responded, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t know what happened, Y/N,” he said tensely. “I know we had it but now we don’t, okay? Something happened, I don’t know what.”

“Well, you better fucking figure it out!” She yelled, her ears going red as she got more angry by him not seeming to care. “Did you not hear what Cap said? No do-overs! We fucked up so what are we gonna do now!”

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do!” He screamed back turning to face her. He sighed, running a hand down his face and closed his eyes. He stayed silent for a bit, using the silence to calm himself down. He knew she was only acting like this because she was scared. And honestly, he was too. “But we’ll figure something out. I promise. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N gulped to hold back her screaming, not wanting to rant to him about every little thing that had already gone wrong, and how she was starting to lose hope. Then Cap jumped down from a balcony, one hand propping up the shield while the other gripped Loki’s staff.

“Cap,” Tony caught his attention. Steve saw them in the dirt-covered car as he walked towards them. “We’ve got a bit of a problem here.” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she let her stress get the better of her again.

“A bit of a problem?” She asked sarcastically. “More like we’re in deep shit!” She said getting out of the car and slamming the door shut with surprising force. Tony rolled his eyes. Steve looked between the two, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

“What happened?” he asked, looking at Y/N. She laughed ironically, starting to pace along the alleyway.

“We lost the goddamn Tesseract is what happened!” She said as she aggressively kicked a piece of debris on the ground. “It’s gone and now the plan isn’t gonna work. We don’t have enough Pym particles to go back again. It’s over, we’re done.” She leaned down and sat against the wall, leaning her head back.

“Are there any other options with the Tesseract,” Steve asked, causing Y/N to roll her eyes at his always enthusiastic goody-two-shoes energy.

“No. No there’s not,” she said annoyed as she stood up and walking over to him. “You said it yourself, there are no do-overs. If we use that last Pym particle, we’re never getting home.”

“Well, if we don’t try, no one else is going home either,” he stated. Y/N sighed, squeezing her eyes shut as she leaned against the car. She knew he was right. But what was the use of going back again to get the stone if they couldn’t get back in the present to put it in the gauntlet?

“I got it,” Tony said suddenly, getting out of the car. Y/N’s head shot up as she stood up and followed him as he got out of the car himself. “There’s another way to get the Tesseract and acquire new particles. We’ll take a stroll down memory lane. Military installation Garden State.”

“Why were they both there?” Steve asked, causing Y/N to look between the two as they continued their conversation. Tony shrugged.

“They were both there for a…” he trailed off as he thought. “I have a vaguely exact idea,” he defended himself. Cap gave him a look, the same one he gave Y/N when he caught her doing something she shouldn’t have around the compound or when she sasses one of the other team members a bit too much.

“How vague,” he asked.

“Woah, okay, what’s going on?” Y/ finally butted in. “What are you guys talking about? Where are we going?” She asked eagerly as they started entering in the time date and coordinates.

“Correction, we’re going. You’re travelling back to the present to give this to the others,” Tony said as he handed her Loki’s staff. Her eyes bulged out as she stood up straighter.

“Tony, I can help. I’m not letting you guys go alone, I’m coming with you,” she stated strongly as she put her suit up. Tony shook his head.

"I trust you with this, kid, okay? get back to home base, we'll be there by the time you get back." He said as he and Steve put up their own suits. He took her hand and entered in the present-day coordinates to get back home as she looked at him like he was crazy, which she currently felt he was.

"What?! But Tony-!" She started, but before Y/N could argue, she felt the ground sweep from under her feet and she was being sent back to the present day, Loki's staff still held tightly in her hand.

As she regained her balance, she looked around the room, seeing that everyone had their respective stone's, including Tony with the Tesseract. But something seemed off. She did another swift headcount of everyone and realized someone had to be missing.

"Where's Nat?" She asked, looking around at everyone's confused faces before looking at Clint, whose eyes were red and glassy. She watched as he looked up at her, shaking his head slightly as a fresh tear rolled down his face. Y/N felt her chest tighten as her mouth opened slightly, letting out a shuttering breath. She knew that face, she wore the same expression five years ago.

She felt tears well up into her eyes, not even thinking of losing a mentor, someone she considered family during the process of getting those who were snapped away back. She felt tears starting to form in her own eyes as regret and sadness took over the whole team.

~~~

The team had taken a quick break to take a moment to mourn their friend, to some even their family. It was odd to not have Natasha around, making small sarcastic quips at any person in the room when you’d least expect it. Y/N quickly splashed her face with water, making the tears on her face earlier vanish as she went back into the room where Tony had just completed the infinity gauntlet 2.0 and everyone was arguing over who should snap their fingers.

“What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?” She heard as she exited the ladies bathroom just beside the room. She leaned against the doorframe as she answered.

“Cheez Whiz?” she asked sarcastically as she came up to stand in between the god and Tony. Thor looked down, confusion on his face as he pointed at her and she, in return, gave him a sly smile.

“Lightning,” he emphasized. Y/N sucked in a breath and averted her gaze as he looked expectantly at Tony, who let out a sigh as he pinched his eyebrows together in concentration.

“Lightning won’t help you, pal. It’s gotta be me,” she heard Bruce say from behind her as he walked to the group. She listened intently as he continued. “You saw what those stones did to Thanos; it almost killed him. None of you would survive.”

“Well, how will we know if you will?” Cap said seriously. Y/N looked at Tony, who looked down at her and gave her a knowing glance, that showed he knew it was true. Y/N nodded slightly as Bruce continued.

“We don’t. But the radiation is mostly gamma. It’s… it’s like I was made for this.” The team looked around before Tony stepped out and started explaining the rules of the stones.

“Remember, everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, we’re just bringing them back to now. Don’t change anything from the past five years,” he said and Bruce nodded, looking at his arm which he prepared to hold the gauntlet in.

The team around him suited up. Y/N felt the cool nanotech of her newly modelled suit slide over her skin, occasionally catching a thin hair. The spiderman-inspired outfit was of the colours white, black, and magenta, with fine reflective webbing details along the side of her arms, legs and torso. She stood behind Tony as he created a protective shield in front of them and Clint on the other side of him.

Metallic barn doors shut around all doors and windows in the room and around the compound. Bruce put on the glove holding the infinity stones and immediately began to scream in pain, doubling down to the ground as he struggled to push his fingers together to snap.

“Take it off! Take it off!” Thor said as he stepped towards Banner, who was still struggling to stay upright. Steve held out his hand to Thor as a sign to stop.

“No, wait! Bruce, are you okay?” Steve asked as he looked at the green giant. Bruce continued to moan but nodded slightly. Y/N stood back further as she heard Banner scream loudly and saw his fingers coming closer together and finally the sound of the metal hitting metal in the snap.

There was a surge of power that almost knocked her over, stumbling to catch her balance. She heard a loud thump as Bruce’s body finally collided with the floor, unconscious. Many people ran towards him to help but Y/N just looked around. She felt her feet carry her to the window as they opened again, seeing birds chirping happily outside.

"D-did it work?" Y/N mumbled as the mask of her suit disappeared from around her face. Everyone turned to look at where she was, seeing multiple new birds coming into sight, planting themselves on a nearby sapling. A phone started to ring, and Clint walked over to his cell vibrating on the glass table, a picture of his beloved wife displayed on the screen. He picked it up and started talking to her.

Tony walked over to Y/N, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, bringing her attention over to him. He wore a giant smile and even looked like he was in tears. He squeezed her shoulder as she let out a gasp, hand covering her mouth as the biggest smile spread across her soft features. She laughed softly, in disbelief but so happy. Tony matched her actions and pulled her into the biggest hug, and she felt comfortable as she placed her head on his chest.

"We did it, kid," he mumbled into her messy hair, feeling her locks dampen with his tears. "We finally did it. They're back." Y/N laughed again into his suit as she pulled him closer and hugged him tighter, closing her eyes as she felt true relief finally wash over her entire being. But of course, that wouldn't last for long.

Next thing she knew she was being flung across the compound while a missile hit just outside the window. She felt herself fly through multiple layers of brick and glass, piercing her skin and knocking the breath from her lungs. She coughed heavily as the dust from the rubble entered her system, trying to balance herself enough to stand up and analyze the situation.

"Tony?!" She screamed, looking for the older man that she was just in contact with. "Tony?! Cap?! Thor?!" She screamed any name that came to mind, hoping for someone to hear her, and possibly give her an explanation. She was limping, pain shooting through her ankle whenever she out the slightest pressure on it. It was definitely broken. She felt the metallic taste of blood entering her mouth, and she was scared to say she didn't know where it came from, her now bleeding nose or the small cuts that littered her cheeks and lips.

"Y/N?" She heard a voice say and sighed with relief. From the dust came Clint, holding something in his arms, the Infinity Gauntlet. "Hey, I got you, you're okay," He reassures her as he puts an arm across her back and under her arms, supporting her weight so she can walk. "Tony, I'm with the kid, she seems okay."

"Is he okay?" she asked quietly when Clint found a safe spot. He looked at her and nodded.

"yeah he's fine, but almost had a heart attack when he couldn't find you," he says, offering her a smile before his face went stoic again. "But he's here. Thanos. He found us." Y/N's eyes went wide, her eyebrows furrowing into a line of confusion. She blinked a couple of times as she processed the new information.

"What? But-- but Thanos i-is dead? He's dead! You said he was dead!" She screams as she feels her heart rate quicken, her breath refusing to meet her lips as if it was stuck inside her throat. Clint reached down and held her hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hands as a calming method he has seen Tony use on her before.

"I know, I thought he was gone too," he whispered, looking back at the dark tunnel before turning back to her. "But this is a different Thanos, he followed us from the past." Y/N felt her throat close up, dark thoughts filling her mind. Fuck. This was all her fault.

There was a sound that came from down the tunnel, almost like a snarl. The pair went quiet, looking towards the source. Clint slowly took out an arrow from the collection he kept on his back, placing it in his bow and shooting it straight down the line, the end glowing up-- revealing about ten or twelve alien-looking dogs. Y/N let out a breath as the two scurried to get up. Clint held up her weight as they ran, eventually settling to pick her up as he ran from the dogs.

As they came to a split in the road, Clint threw her to a different path, signalling for her to run and hide as he continued to run down the other path, provoking the dogs to follow him and leave her. Y/N limped down the path, using the wall to support her as she hopped along. Soon she came across a mop of messy hair frantically looking around the rubble.

"Tony," she tried to say but found that her voice was scratchy and weak. "Tony, I'm right here." The said man turned around the stress on his face leaving as he saw the girl he was looking for. He quickly wrapped an arm around as Clint had earlier and walked her away from the scene.

"God, hey kid. You hanging in there?" He said, checking the area before leading her to a small space of coverage under a piece of rubble that looked like it used to be the floor. She nodded in reassurance before grabbing his arm and pulling him back up.

“I need you to take me to our lab, now,” she said urgently and he obliged, not even thinking of asking why. He directed her to a small metal door attached to a broken piece of wall, typing in a code on the damaged keyboard before pushing the heavy doors open.

She rushed over to her part of the lab, the barely working glass screen table popping up and she quickly punched in a few passwords before looking in a locked drawer for one of the small viles kept safely there. Tony looked from her face to the small tube, confusion painting his face as he watched her pop the lid, hesitating before bringing it to her lips and gulping down the small amount of dark red liquid.

Y/N felt the iron tasting liquid slid down her throat as she swallowed it uncomfortably, immediately feeling the effects. Her eyesight went black and her head started to spin. She went to grab the nearest object her hold herself up, the dizziness and broken ankle not being the best combination. Tony rushed to her side, grabbing her other arm.

"Y/N, what the hell was that," Tony said, concern laced his voice as he watched the girl groan, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back. She gulped before answering in short breaths.

"That answer may vary between poison and what I like to call a spider-serum," she replied, sarcasm still in use through her pain. Tony looked at her with bewilderment in his eyes, as this was not a project approved by him or not even one they've talked about. She gritted her teeth together, continuing to moan out in pain as she collapsed to the floor, Tony calling out her name.

As Y/N got her self together, she placed both hands on the desk in front of her nailed into the floor, using it to pull herself back on her feet. She felt everything in her body changing, she could hear the blood rushing through her veins, she could smell the smoke from across the battlefield outside the reinforced metal door, she could feel the small hairs on Tony's arms tickling her own as he tried to shake her out of her trance.

"Y/N! Kid come on, snap out of it. What the hell was that?" He said as he continued to shake her. She was going to bring a hand up to slap his own away but instead found them stuck to the table. As she tried tugging again, the steal table breaking off the floor while still sticking to her hands. Y/N and Tony looked in shock.

Y/N then began to laugh, her eyes wide in disbelief. She widened her hands and the desk fell from her palms, crashing against the floor. "Holy shit," she whispered as she looked at Tony, who was looking from the now broken table to her. "It worked! Oh god, I can't believe it actually worked!" She screamed as she jumped up and down and headed towards the door.

"No no no, what the hell was that?!" Tony asked. Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling as she impatiently grabbing his arm and dragged him outside towards the fight. She smiled at him, a great look of success overgoing her as she showed him the potion she had been perfecting for the last couple of years.

“Well, I took a blood sample of Peter’s and checked it to see what kind of stuff the spider had injected into him,” she said as Tony gave her a weird look. “Don’t ask how I got it, I don’t really know either. But as I analyzed it further, I had an idea to take the sample and separate the effects of the injection, and used it to create a serum that would give me powers similar to Peter’s, using the poison of his spider to create powers of my own.”

Tony looked at her mesmerized, then looked at the stash of dark red vials in the drawer. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded, impressed beyond words of the young girl's discovery. Then he paused and looked back at her. “Wait, so you technically drank spiderboy’s blood?” He asked suspiciously. Y/N opened her mouth to respond but didn’t quite know how.

“I-” she paused, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Okay, no, we don’t have time for this conversation right now. There’s a giant purple grape out that waiting to be slain.” Tony nodded and soon the two headed out the door without any further questions, saluting each other before Y/N darted off at an irregularly fast tempo.

She felt the wind blow rapidly against her hair as she ran through the bad guys, dodging hits with swiftness. Of course, she wasn't fast like Pietro but definitely was faster than she usually was, which proved to be a great advantage while on the battlefield. Y/N saw Tony, Thor and Steve fighting against Thanos in the background as she thwiped out a web and flew into the air, grabbing one of the Chiari and slamming it into another group coming towards her.

She continued to fight when suddenly she felt a tingly sense that made her head shoot towards Steve, watching as he stood up by himself, his shield broken in his hand, as he prepared to single-handedly fight the titan. Y/N ran towards him when she heard a voice in her comm, that definitely wasn't from anyone on their battlefield.

"On your left..."

She seemed to distantly recognize the voice but couldn't quite place it. That is until a portal appeared beside Steve, made of orange sparks that she had remembered. There, the king of Wakanda, T'Challa, his younger sister, Shuri she thought her name was, and another girl who was dressed in a warriors uniform and a shaved head, holding a golden spear stood beside the king.

After that, portal after portal began to form around the atmosphere, with more battleships, superheroes and warriors of all kinds of countries and galaxies appearing through them and getting into their battle positions. Y/N smiled proudly before running up to the giant team and taking her place next to the Wakandian princess, lunging down into the iconic spidey stance and getting ready to avenge the rest of the universe. She looked at Steve as he watched everyone take their places among him.

"Avengers..." he starts as he holds out his hand and Mjolner flies into his grip. "Assemble!"

Battle cries and the sound of machines whirring and flying filled the atmosphere as they ran towards the alien army opposite of them. Y/N flicked out her wrist and grabbed onto one of the giants floating motherships and swung low to the ground, knocking out multiple enemies at once. Once she landed on the ground she continued to fist fight them off of her one by one, like Natasha had taught her for so many years.

But as good as she was doing at the moment, it wasn't hard for her to get overpowered when a bunch jumped on her back at once, knocking her down to the floor, struggling to keep them from ripping out her skin. She tried to push them off, and successfully webbed some to the ground to keep them off of her, but it wasn't enough to handle them all.

"Hey, watch out!" A boyish voice sounded through her comms as all the aliens were kicked right off of her, giving her a chance to stand up and fight off the rest, her rescuer standing behind her, back to back, as they both slung down the dogs and threw them across the battlefield. Y/N stabbed some with her pincer things Tony put on her back.

Once they were gone, Y/N grabbed the boy behind her and pulled him into a quieter place as she unmasked herself, looking expectantly at the boy. "Peter?" She said, her voice breaking as she looked at the Iron Spider suit, which disappeared from his face, revealing his unruly curls and a just as shocked look on his face.

"Y/N?" He whispered, disbelief in his eyes as she saw a single tear escape his brown orbs and gently slide down his cheek. He looked the same, but at the same time looked more mature, and she was relieved that he had seemed to grow while he was gone, or else the near future situation would be a bit awkward. "W-what are you doing here?" Y/N giggled a bit, feeling her own hot tears sliding down her dirt and blood covered cheek as her delicate hand went up to grab his own, wiping his tears.

"I came to save you, dummy," she joked. Peter smiled at her, placing his hands on her waist. Although it wasn't as long for Peter in the soul stone as it was for Y/N while on Earth since he was in a coma-like state pretty much the whole time, he had missed her honey-coated voice and sickly sweet smile. He had waited too long for this.

They watched each other for a little longer, analyzing the small details that had changed around their faces since the years passed before Peter leaned down and attached their lips together for a very long-awaited kiss. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as her hands trailed back to rest on the back of his neck, playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck as she felt the cold metal of his suit brush against her fingertips.

As they parted, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, her sweat mixing with his as they kept their eyes closed and smiled at the feeling. Even though they were in the middle of a war, Y/N has never felt more at peace than that moment while she was in his arms.

Suddenly she felt the fine hairs on the back of her arm and the back of her neck stand up, and without thinking she extended her arms and traps the alien running towards them in one of her webs, throwing it up before pulling it back down to the ground, crushing it.

Apparently, Peter felt it too because when she looked back to him he was already looking back at the now-dead dog. His head turned back towards her, his mouth hanging open a bit as he let out a breath, a beautiful smile painting his lips as he grabbed her face, looking her in the eye.

'God, I love you so much," he mumbles as he brings her mouth up to his again, this kiss a bit more passionate than the last. Y/N laughed into the kiss as she brought her arms around his neck and played with his hair. She pulled him back a bit, their noses still brushing against one another as she pecked him on the lips.

"I love you too," she whispered, looking into his eyes with such adoration he almost exploded right there with the adrenaline he was feeling just having her this close to him. He smiled wider as he pecked her on the lips; once, twice, and a third time brought her into a proper kiss.

"Y'know as heartwarming as this moment is, you lovebirds realize we're still fighting a war," someone said from behind them. They quickly pulled away, stepping back from one another to face Tony Stark, a smirk on his lips as he examined the blush on the young adult's faces, bashfully looking away from one another.

"Oh shut it, Tony. I deserve this at least," she shook her head as she looked at the perfect boy beside her, someone she had known pretty much her whole life and had been in love with for just as long. Peter smiled at Tony and walked over to greet him, excited to see his mentor again after so long.

"Mr. Stark! Holy cow you will not believe what has happened to me," Peter began to ramble as he walked up to him and started to do his usual over-exaggerated hand gestures. "Do you remember when we were in space? Right? And I got all dusty? Well I must have passed out and Dr. Strange said we went to the Soul Stone and we were in like a coma for like five years, and when I woke up, Dr. Strange was there too and he was like 'it's been five years we have to go', and then he started doing that yellow sparkly thingy, uh, that he does and... what are you doing? ...oh." Peter stopped when Tony wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Tony felt such a great sense of relief as he hugged Peter, never realizing that the kid was like his first son until it was too late and having to wait so many years to hear his voice again. He placed a kiss on his cheek, in a fatherly way, and opened his eyes, smiling at Y/N who looked so happy.

"This is nice," Peter said before they pulled away, Peter turned back at Y/N and smiled at her, his grin reaching his sparkling eyes. Tony patted his shoulder.

"I think it's time we get back into battle," he stated, his mask going back over his face as he got his repulsors ready. "You two don't take too long, and NO funny business." The pair nodded as he flew back into the air, going to help Banner or the Hulk. Peter turned back to Y/N.

"Wow, this is so awesome," he said as he walked back to her, holding her arms as he admired her suit, which looked similar to his. "You're like, my spider-girl sidekick." Y/N laughed and pushed his chest playfully.

"I'm nobody's sidekick, Parker," she said. "But I can be your... partner?" Peter smiled and blushed. He bit his lip as he looked her over again, his grin contagious.

"In what way?" He asked, trying to sound sly but sounding more scared of the answer. Y/N laughed and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"In whatever way you want me to be," she said, kissing his cheek before putting her mask back on and saluting him before swinging of back into battle. Peter stood there with a red blush crawling up his neck and feeling breathless, his smile growing wider if that was even possible.

"Awesome," he muttered before his mask also went over his face and he went to go help as well.

Y/N was swinging over the battle, occasionally knocking out an airborne enemy in her way if she had to. She scanned through the people fighting, looking for anyone who needed help. But then her web was seemed to be disintegrated as she fell hard onto the floor, another lazer like beam hit right beside her just barely grazing her shoulder. She saw the witch people? (that’s what Tony called them at least) started to make barriers which she quickly ran under. She looked around for Tony and Peter, but couldn’t see them. Until she heard the latter’s voice through her comm.

“Help! Somebody help!” He said, sounding panicked and she heard his grunts as he tried to fight off the aliens. Without thinking of the possible dangers she ran out to help him, her spider-senses helping her locate him. She saw him under a bunch of the aliens and shot a web up.

“Peter, duck!” She said as she rammed through the enemies, knocking them over like bowling pins. She grabbed Peter around the waist and tugged him into her as she shot a web and took them out, grabbing onto Mjloner which had flown right above.

“Aw, thanks, Y/N,” Peter said as he put his head into her neck, which she couldn’t help but blush at. She thought it was cute how their roles were sort of reversed and he was just so baby.

Y/N continued to ride onto the hammer until she saw that it was heading straight towards one of the flying motherships. Her eyes went wide as she looked for a way to get off. She saw Valkerye, one of Thor’s friends, and called out for her as a warning before throwing Peter up so he could get the gauntlet back to Scott.

Y/N then stood on the small handle of the hammer before using her web to fling herself forward, jumping up to get on top of the ship as the hammer continued to destroy it from the inside. As she jumped off and landed surprisingly gracefully on the ground, she looked up to realize that the ships were no longer firing at them, but at something in the atmosphere above.

Y/N squinted before watching a figure move at lightning speed straight through one of the ships firing at them, exploding the whole thing. Y/N smiled, knowing who it was as she ran down to help Peter up, who had just almost been hit by one of the beams.

“Hey, you alright?” She asked softly as she grabbed his arm and helped him get up, him going to get the gauntlet which had escaped his grip after falling. He nodded, his mask going back as hers did.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” he reassured as he held onto her shoulder for support. “That was so badass, by the way. When I was like, stuck, you know, under those aliens. And then you came and was like wham! and like kicked them off and then you just sorta like picked me up and then you just like threw me onto that flying horse, which is crazy. But you like saved me and that was so cool. Like really cool. Thanks.” Peter rambled as he looked at her in awe, which she gave a sweet smile in return.

Before he could comment any more someone landed right in front of them. Captain Marvel smiled and nodded at Y/N, as she returned the gesture, and looked at Peter, who was still holding tightly onto the infinity stones. Peter looked at her with wide eyes and in awe.

“Hi I-I’m Peter.. Parker,” he said shyly. Captain Marvel smiled at him, looking between the two teenagers.

“I know,” she said as she gave Y/N a knowing glance. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?” Peter looked at the gauntlet before looking out at the army that was racing towards them, feeling scared at the moment.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get through that,” he said as he delicately handed the glove to Carol as the other female Avengers and superheroes gathered together around her. Y/N felt immediately at home and looked over at Peter reassuringly as Wanda landed by her side.

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said with a smile as her mask got on and Okoye, T’Challa’s head of king’s guard, finished her sentence for her.

“She’s got help,” she said, and the group of them began to run like hell towards the growing army, all doing their own thing to slam through and take down the enemy. Y/N webbed them down as they tried to attack her sisters and knocked them over as she swung by. She saw one of the bigger monsters making its way towards her, and effortlessly picked it up and threw it into the rest of the aliens making their way towards her at a fast rate.

As she continued to fight off the enemy, she felt a strong surge of energy pass through her, making her stumble slightly. As she regained her balance, she watched as the aliens that were once running straight for her turned into dust, disappearing into the wind. She squinted her eyebrows, looking around for who had snapped before she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, warning her that something was wrong.

She followed her senses to find Tony sitting against a piece of debris, extremely pale and barely moving, his arm and part of his face burnt off. She felt her breathing stop as she stumbled towards him, muttering his name as she collapsed in front of him in front of all the other Avengers.

“T-Tony? Tony! No!” She said as fell in front of him, going to grab his hand with both of hers. She hadn’t felt this type of heartbreak since 2018 when she had lost Peter, her mom, and the rest of her friends. But this time she was losing her father.

“Hey, kid,” he said so quietly she wouldn’t have heard him, but she was practically hugging him by now, clinging onto him as a silent way of asking not to leave her. As she heard his voice, an ugly sob ripped through her as she buried her head in his chest as a form of comfort.

“Tony, please not you too,” she asked quietly, squeezing his hand so tight that the metal surrounding it had started to cut into her palms, but she could care less. “Not you too, please. We need you, Tony. I need you, and Morgan, please.” She couldn’t even finish before breaking down.

“Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter.” Peter asked from behind her, shocked to see Y/N holding onto him and crying into him. Tony weakly looked up and brought his attention to the original web-slinging spider. “We won, Mr. Stark. You did it. You did it, sir.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N finally looked up towards Peter, and he felt his heart shatter looking at her already bloodshot red eyes and the tear tracks that were a bright contrast against the rest of her face, which was covered in dust and blood. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her off and into his own arms.

“No, No! Let go, please! I need to help him. Please. No.” Her voice got quieter as Peter held her closely, her back pressed against his chest as they both watched him. Tony looked between the pair, and although it hurt him to see the tears in their eyes, he was happy that they would be able to work through it together. He looked up at Peter and nodded his chin towards Y/N.

“Take… take care of… of her,” he whispered, causing a sob to come over Peter as well as he nodded vigorously, holding her tighter against him if that was even possible at this point.

“Of course, yes always,” he said as he felt salty tears run down at a rapid pace. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tony.” Tony tried to give him a smile, tried to give him a sign that everything would be okay, but found that he couldn’t.

Then Tony looked at Y/N. He remembered the last time she was like this, and it hurt him that he had to cause her the same pain. But he cared for her and knew that this was what had to happen to keep both of his daughters safe. “I love you.”

Y/N’s head fell as she heard the three simple words come from his mouth, leaning into Peter as she tries to control herself, trying to look strong in front of him, knowing who worried he must be already. “I love you, too, dad.” She whispered and nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand one more time before Pepper came to his side. Peter carefully pulled Y/N back, her collapsing into his lap and crying into his shoulder as he rubbed her back tried to keep in his own tears to be strong for her but ended up letting go and crying into her soft hair.

“Friday?” Pepper asked, her hand on Tony’s chest as Tony’s hand was placed gently on top of hers.

“Life functions critical,” the AI responded. Y/N felt like she was gonna be sick. She couldn’t think she could breathe, how do you even breathe again? Because she couldn’t quite remember at the moment. She listened to Peter’s heartbeat and used his rising and falling chest as a model.

“Tony? Look at me,” Pepper managed a smile at Tony as he groaned while turning to look towards her. “You’re gonna be okay, you can rest now,” she said as she put a hand on his cheek, gently caressing it before placing a soft kiss to it. And after that, the light on his chest went dim, and it took everything in Y/N not to scream like the day she found out Peter wasn’t coming home for dinner that night.

She felt Peter shaking around her, choking on sobs. She knew he would try and act as a support base for her, and he always liked to put others before himself. But she just held onto him, her hands going up to his messy hair and carting her fingers through the strands as a silent way to tell him that she was there for him too.

The Avengers and other heroes and warriors who had teamed up together to fight kneeled down, showing their respect to another beautiful life taken. The chaos in the warzone had gone quiet, a moment of silence taken in honour of Tony Stark.

And just like that, he was gone, just another figure of history in the textbooks. But to others he was a friend, he was a teammate, he was an idol, he was family. And God knows that he wouldn’t be forgotten for what he was, a hero.

~~~

The funeral occurred a couple of weeks later, only close friends and family were invited at the small gathering at the lake house where he lived with his family. It was odd, walking into the house and feeling so much dread in a place she considered a getaway just days before, a place that brought her such a feeling of happiness and relief.

She sat quietly in a soft chair in the corner, trying to process everything that was happening and everything that would come with it afterwards. She had just finished watching Tony’s video to his family, which Pepper insisted included her, and felt heartbroken at the thought that it would truly be the last time she saw him, ever again.

“Hey,” his soft voice said as Peter crouched down next to her, a hand on her knee as he gently squeezed. His eyes were red and puffy, just as hers were, and he wore a black and white suit that looked nice on him, though it seemed an inappropriate time to comment on it. “They’re starting the service soon, um, by the lake. I think we should go.” Y/N nodded, standing up from her chair and taking his hand in her own, finding comfort in his warm and soft grip.

The two walked out to the deck, one that she had so many memories on with the rest of the Stark family. Peter brought her to stand beside him and his aunt May, who smiled at Y/N and squeezed her hand. Y/N smiled back, but it came out as more of a grimace. They stood just behind Happy, Pepper and Morgan, as Pepper leaned down and set the wreath onto the lake, in the middle it had Tony’s original arc reactor from 2008, with words engraved into it.

‘Proof Tony Stark has a heart’

She found humour in the words but also wondered why anyone had ever thought otherwise. Sure he was a bit egotistical and petty sometimes, and often took to bragging when it came to being one of the smartest people on earth. But if you had known him like I had, she thought to herself, you’d know that he was one of the most caring people ever.

She watched as it floated away down through the calm river, eventually turning into a speck in the distant, covered by trees and the glistening light reflected off the water. Y/N gulped harshly as she tried to keep her tears in, not trying to break the strong personality she had set in stone for the past five years, but nonetheless couldn’t help a few of them slip from her eyes.

When the funeral had ended Y/N went to greet the others that had attended, wearing her best fake smile as people commented on how sorry they were for her loss and she did the same for them. She had gotten many embraces from people she did and didn’t know, and shared small laughs and memories with them.

After Y/N got tired of talking to everyone she tapped Peter, who had stayed by her side through the whole day, and told him she was going to get a drink of water. Peter had insisted on coming and held her hand as they walked away from the crowd and to the cute lakeside cottage, Y/N had considered home for so many years. On the small bench beside the door sat Happy with little Morgan in his lap, who sprung off and ran towards the girl with a bright smile on her face.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Morgan chanted happily as she ran closer, arms stretched out. Y/N smiled genuinely at the young girl and crouched down, picked her up as she ran into her chest and resting her on her hip. She brushed her nose against her soft cheek and placed a kiss upon it.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N said as she bounced Morgan. Peter looked at Morgan with a grin as well, since it was honestly astounding how similar she was to her father. Morgan giggled and played with Y/N’s hair as they had a small conversation and Peter could only watch on in awe. Then Y/N turned Morgan to face Peter. “You remember who this is, don’t you? It’s uncle Peter!” Y/N said, looking at Morgan and then smiling up at Peter, who felt like he was about to cry again just hearing those words.

“Spidey! Spidey!” Morgan screeched happily as she leaned over and made grabbing hands towards Peter, asking him to pick her up. Peter smiled widely before taking her from Y/N’s grip and holding her on his own hip now.

“Hey there, nice to finally meet you,” he said as he rocked slightly and Morgan placed her head on his shoulder, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Peter felt like he might explode from cuteness overload.

“Yeah. Daddy and Y/N says that-that you is the bestest,” she says as she played with the collar of Peter’s shirt. “You’re my favourite superhero! But after daddy.” She says as she smiled up at him. Peter raises his eyebrows and nods, letting out a laugh as he continued to talk with her. Soon the girl was falling asleep on Peter’s shoulder and the two walked inside to put her down for a nap.

Peter gently placed her down on her bed as he put a few stuffed animals by her side and covered her with the pink, fluffy blanket at the end of the bed. He kissed her forehead as Y/N went to place another on her cheek.

“Love you 3000,” she mumbled in her half-asleep state, and Y/N smiled, feeling tears brimming in her eyes as she replied.

“Love you infinity,” she says as she kissed her head. Morgan smiled in her sleepy state as the two stood up and exited the room, closing the door as quietly as they could to not stir her. Peter pulled Y/N into a hug, rocking them from side to side as he felt her tears start to make his shirt wet, but he didn’t seem to care. He kissed her temple and gently grabbed her chin, guiding her to look up at him as he smiled down at her.

“You know, I love you infinity,” he mumbled as he leaned down to brush against her lips. She laughed, his presence making her feel so much better since he really was her saviour. She shook her head, scoffing.

“You’re such a dork, Parker,” she said as she looked up at him, smiling for what felt like the first time in forever. She didn’t know how he had that effect on her, but then again she wasn’t complaining. God knows she needs a bit of relief. “I love you infinity too,” she replied after leaving him hanging for a while, and she stood up on her toes to press her lips to his, the kiss soft and short but still full of emotion.

As they broke apart, he pressed another kiss on her forehead and pulled her into his embrace. “You know what would make you feel better?” He said into her ear, which she replied with a ‘hm?’, asking for him to continue. “If we went home and binge-watched that Shane Dawson conspiracy theory video you told me about the other day.” Y/N scrunched up her eyebrows and looked up at him, a soft laugh passing her lips.

“Right now? Are you serious?” she said, shaking her head as she jokingly pushed his chest. He also chuckled a bit.

“What?” He asked, taking her hand and backing down the hallway. “C’mon, Y/N, you know how long I’ve waited for this video! You can’t just tease me with it!” Y/N raised her eyebrow as she watched Peter bounce a bit, begging her with his adorable brown puppy eyes to come with him.

“Well, you know what? There’s actually two, and they’re an hour and a half each” she whispered, causing Peter to groan and throw his head back. As he looked back up he was smirking, his tongue swiping over his teeth as he looked at her.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as he tugged on her hand and pulled her away, Y/N following a giggling mess as he brought her to Aunt May’s car and drove them back home, both excitedly discussing different videos and movies and other events that Peter had missed while he was gone.

Even though it meant sacrificing a lot, and even though she was still devastated about Tony and Nat’s death, Y/N felt as if everything would be okay as she lied on Peter’s chest, his strong arms wrapped securely around her as they watched the movie long conspiracy videos together. They exchanged small kisses and soft words, and even feeding popcorn to each other cause they were that grossly sweet kind of couple. And Y/N had finally found her hope.

~~~

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